#then he finally said it had a grey door so i was like w/e lets go on | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eupheme · 2 years ago

Text

Sweet Summer Lemonade

Jim Hopper x F!Reader

Rated E - 7.8k

Tags: dub-con (because of sex pollen) (but with very mutual attraction), use of alcohol and cigarettes, age gap, mentions of death, fingering, oral sex (f rec.), size kink, PiV, mult. orgasms, grump + sunshine, mutual pining, loose pov

Summary:

“So… you and the chief, huh?”

“Oh!” You clear your throat, fingers covering your mouth, “No, not really. I don’t think he sees me that way.”

“Uh huh.” Murray answers dryly, his legs crossing neatly at the ankles as he leans next to you, “Are you sure about that?”

(Or - when you go to Murray’s for some help, you end up with a little more than you bargained for)

Your nose crinkles as the truck finally slows to a halt on the packed-dirt path, just outside the industrial-sized garage door. Debris lines the concrete building, a busted office chair, turned on its side - mechanical parts cushioned against the tall, barbed-wire fence by overgrown tufts of knee-high grass.

“You sure this is the right place?” Your words are directed slowly at Hopper, throwing your shoulder into the door as you open it - the old hinges creaking with the effort.

He’s already out of the truck, the piece of paper crumpled in his hand, shoving it into the back pocket of his light jeans, “This is it.”

Here goes, you think, making for the door, but a hand is catching your elbow, dragging you back. Glancing back at the frown on Hopper’s face, as he leans down to your level, letting you go so his hands can brace on his thick thighs.

“You stick close to me,” His voice is low and hushed, a rough edge to it, “And don’t touch anything inside unless I say so. Got that?”

Annoyance prickles at you - you were in the tunnels last year, same as the rest, and you had come out just fine. Whoever this man was had to be a cakewalk in comparison. He didn’t need to pull the macho-cop act, you weren’t a teenager like the others.

“Nancy said he was nice.” You counter, lifting your sunglasses, perching them on top of your head as you fix him with a look.

The crease between his forehead deepens, the edges of his lips turning down, “Just do what I tell you, okay?”

Your head tilts, his eyebrow raises in response. And fuck - the way he’s seeming to loom over you, big and broad, prickles at you in a different kind of way.

“Fine.” You blink, averting your eyes.

“Good.” He straightens, giving you one last weary look before heading to the front door.

Secretly, you had been hoping this trip would be a little more... interesting. For weeks now, the two of you have been exchanging lingering looks, finding half-hearted excuses to move just a little bit closer.

And when this short trip had come up, you had jumped at the opportunity. Because of the reason it was being taken, of course - and selfishly, for the chance to spend a little more time with him.

But so far today... nothing.

Unless you count the brush of an elbow against yours as it sat on the armrest. Not exactly the steamy encounter you had daydreamed about.

His fist raps a pattern on the rusted metal door, once - twice. Finally, a face peeking out as it cracks open, the room behind dim, curtains pulled tight.

The man’s face pulling downward when he sees who it is, eyes narrowing behind glasses, mouth twisting, "Oh, not you.”

Hopper's foot quickly jamming in the space, preventing it from shutting all the way, “We need to talk to you. It’s about what happened.”

There’s a long pause before the man nods - Hopper’s foot pulling back so the door can shut, the chain latch undone before it opens again.

You follow behind into the house, the inside not a far cry from the outside. But it’s fascinating in a way, the wall of televisions, the man himself - an old robe worn open like a cardigan over a tight white tank, grey sweats.

“Thank you, Mr. Bauman.” You step around Hopper, your hand extended, “We’re hoping you might be able to help us, please.”

Murray’s eyebrows lift when he sees you, the downturned edge of his lip kicking up, “And who is this?”

His handshake is firm, and you smile as you give your name, explaining, “One of Hopper’s friends.”

“Hm. Didn’t think the old grump had any friends,” He gives Hopper a sidelong look, Hopper’s hands jamming in his pockets as he scowls back.

“Just in case you were wondering, that is how you ask for help,” Murray tells him, amusing himself, before he turns back to you, “What can I do for you, sunshine?”

Throwing a look at Hopper for confirmation, you start, “Well, we wanted to see if you still had the original copy of the tape Nancy and Jonathan brought you.”

“Something is happening again,” Hopper cuts in, easing himself into the circle of conversation, arms crossed over his chest. “Maybe with the gate, maybe with El. We wanted to see exactly what they said.”

Murray shoots both of you a puzzled look, “Why’d you come out this way? Can’t you just ask them?”

You fidget, the same thing already discussed in the car. Hopper handles this one again, ”We don’t want to cause any… unnecessary panic. If we ask either, it’s going to spread. We want to do our own digging first.”

Murray thinks about that, plucking the glasses from his face, polishing them slowly on the edge of his robe.

“Please Mr. Bauman?” You ask, your hands clasped in front of you, the sound of your words drowning out Hopper’s annoyed grunt.

“God, please - Mr. Bauman was my father. It’s just Murray.” He looks back up after a long pause, slowly nodding, “But, fine. I can make you a copy. Have to find it first, but I will.”

Your answering smile is relieved - how long could that possibly take?

———

The three of you have been searching for hours now, sifting through beat-up boxes of hastily-labeled tapes in one of the side rooms, taking turns checking possibilities.

It’s slow going - you were quickly relieved of checking duty after you found a tape that leaned towards the illicit. Gasping as Hopper moved in front of you to shut off the high-pitched, recorded moans as he growled out a “Jesus Christ Bauman, she doesn’t need to hear that.”

“It was research for a story!” Murray had insisted, rolling his eyes, hands spread wide.

Now, you were on sorting duty, making stacks for Hopper to check, sweat beading on your brow as you dug through the piles. Even with the drapes drawn, hiding the summer sun, it was warm in the stuffy house - the nearest fan just out of reach as it rotates slowly.

Finally giving up, your arms stretching over your head as you rise, winding your way over to where Murray was working on his own stack.

“Murray, is it okay if I grab something to drink?” Your palm fans your face, the slight gust of air barely soothing the heat.

“Sure, sunshine. Help yourself,” He wipes his own brow, glancing up from his place on the floor. “I’m almost done. Grab a glass for me, too.”

The single bulb flickers in the kitchen, an ancient fridge tucked between two countertops. You revel in the blast of cool air as you open the door, stooping to peer inside.

It’s relatively clean, the shelves clear on one side, jars and condiments lining the other. There’s some beer cans half-way back and you reach for one, dragging it out. When you go to grab another, your fingers knock against a rounded glass bottle, the label curled and worn.

It wobbles dangerously, the cap loose on the narrow neck. The liquid inside - a thick, viscous pink - sloshes onto your knuckles as you catch it with the back of your hand. Trapping it between another container before you carefully nudge it upright.

Your hand withdraws, setting the second can on the counter before you bring it to your nose. The bright residue smells like summer, fresh fruit. Sticky sweet and cloying.

Without thinking, you taste it, licking up the drop that tracked across your knuckles. It seems to soak into your tongue, the taste almost familiar. Reminding you vaguely of the prickly pear lemonade you had on vacation a couple years ago.

Bright and sweet as bubblegum, the tart bite tickling your throat as you swallowed. No worries back then - just summer and sunshine ahead.

You blink, a funny tingling on your tongue, the rest rinsed off in the sink - dried on the dingy dishtowel.

The crisp crack of the can opening is music to your ears. The beer is cheap but you’re not complaining, it’s cool going down your throat - the can pressed against your forehead after you swallow.

Murray joins you a minute later, and you offer him the second can, but he shakes his head.

“Should have specified,” He tells you, dragging a bottle from the freezer, filling the bottom third of a glass.

Drinking the vodka like it’s water, nose scrunching as he swallows. You side-eye him, as you against the counter, elbows pressing against the stained laminate.

Taking your own sip much more slowly, his head turning to look at you.

“Helps me think.” Murray offers, though you weren’t about to ask. There’s a long pause, before his head tilts, “So… you and the chief, huh?”

You choke on the mouthful, coughing as you swallow. Hopper had warned you that he was blunt - a good guy, but not one to mince words.

But it’s almost refreshing, after the passive aggressive tip-toeing around you so often get at work. Right to the point, nice and neat.

“Oh!” You clear your throat, fingers covering your mouth, “No, not really. I don’t think he sees me that way.”

Facing him, you miss the way Hopper’s head tilts in your direction as he listens to a new tape, eyes dragging slow over the cocked curve of your hips - but Murray does not.

“Uh huh.” He answers dryly, his legs crossing neatly at the ankles as he leans next to you, “Are you sure about that?”

You wonder if he’s teasing you, or if he knows something you don’t.

The prospect makes your heart thud, a wishful anticipation in your chest as you answer, “Well, I don’t really know. Sometimes I think there’s something, and then other times he doesn’t notice me at all.”

Not telling him that a part of you thinks he’s hung up on someone else. And the worst part is you get it, it makes sense - they have all that history. And you’re just tripping after him like a lost little puppy.

“Jim’s a pretty direct guy.” Murray interrupts your thoughts, and your answering nod is slow, a little unsure of his meaning.

A pause - before he pats your shoulder, draining the rest of his glass, “Just something to think about.”

Okay, I guess, you think - finishing the remnants of your own drink, finding what looked like a recycling bin for the empty can. After a moment, taking the extra beer you had grabbed over to Hopper. Offering it to him wordlessly as you lean over the back of the couch, next to his shoulder.

He takes it, a thankful curve to his lips, fingers overlapping yours as his hand wraps around the can. For a second, you almost forget to let go - too focused on the way your skin seems to buzz under the brush of his fingertips.

“Thought you forgot about me.” He nods towards the kitchen, cracking it open with a hiss.

You watch the bob of his throat as he swallows, a curl of heat creeping up your neck, your cheeks. Trying to keep your voice from sounding too much like a sigh when you reply, “Never.”

Clearing your throat, trying to keep on track, “Any luck?”

“Not sure. Think we’re getting close though, these are from the same time.” He sighs, leaning back against the cushion, arm trailing along the back - swapping the tape out for another.

The voice that plays from this one is familiar - the recoding caught mid-sentence.

“-you mean without shutting us up?-”

You’re grabbing at his arm, swinging around the edge of the couch to take the seat next to him. Leaning into him to listen, “Wait, wait, that’s it!”

His eyes flash to yours, the recording playing just long enough to confirm it. A relieved smile flashing across his face, before his arm drops to curl around you - a squeezing half-hug of victory.

The tape is handed off to Murray to make a copy, and you stay selfishly seated on the couch. Nothing to do but wait until the copy is made, the edge of his arm still brushing your shoulders.

But the more you sit - the denser the air feels, humid and sticky hot. Your pulse seems to thud in your ears, a steady, dull pattern.

“Is it warm in here?” You ask idly, fingers plucking at the neck of your sundress, peeling it back to get some air against your skin, “Like, more than before?”

He frowns, his eyes averting when you glance his way, his legs shifting, “It’s warm. But it’s cooler than outside, that’s for sure.”

It doesn’t seem that way to you - you’re not sure how he’s able to wear jeans in this heat, even with the beachy, button-up shirt. The sleeves stretch tight across his biceps as his arms cross, your eyes slow to pull away as he adds, “Maybe you just need some fresh air.”

You nod - that makes sense, and you silently wish for Murray to hurry up, as much as you’re enjoying the current seating arrangements.

Now that the tape has been found, copying it goes quickly, the audio conversation as short as it was. Hopper tucking the tape into his shirt pocket, patting his chest as you push yourself to your feet.

It takes an effort, your limbs feeling not quiet coordinated. Your mind a little fuzzy, skin buzzing and tilting towards oversensitive. Maybe the beer wasn’t as cheap as you thought - maybe it was your empty stomach.

Hopper’s eyes narrow when he notices the slight sway in your posture, as Murray not-so-subtly herds you towards the front door. You still manage a thank you, and even a hug that you’re surprised that he accepts, “Thank you for helping us, it means a lot.”

“You’re both welcome back anytime.” Murray tells you cheerfully, the words almost cut off as the door shuts, the latch chain sliding into place immediately.

Leaving the two of you alone, blinking into the sunlight - the slight breeze welcome on your face. You’re still looking dazedly at the door when Hopper’s hand brushes your back, a gentle nudge towards the truck.

His words slow, eyeing you as you start to move, “Let’s get you in the truck”.

You’re compliant, unprotesting as he opens the door, climbing in. Slumping against the seats rolling the window down as he gets in on the other side.

The truck roars to life, reversing out of the lot, dirt kicking up from the driveway as he pulls back onto the main road.

Time seems to lose its meaning as the miles tick down, you’re not sure if it’s been minutes or an hour - the heat in your face and neck starting to feel like it’s moving downwards.

It should be a moment to remember, just the two of you, a beautiful summers day. A warm breeze on your face as the radio rolls through favorites - Springsteen, Rolling Stones, Tom Petty. Songs you know by heart sounding faded as thoughts you kept buried deep inside push to the surface.

Sideways glances that linger a hair too long, eyes drifting over his light, patterned shirt. The extra couple buttons popped at the neck, the coarse hair beneath.

The thick muscle of his arms, large hands that you think would span the space between your shoulder and jaw. The perfect size to cup your face. Fingers drumming absentmindedly on the steering wheel.

You like looking at his hands, thinking about what they could do. How they would feel. On you. Maybe even in you.

The path of your gaze slowly shifts downwards-

You blink - catching yourself, eyes facing forward again. Going rigid as you recognize the curl of arousal in your guts, where the heat has settled. Stronger than you’ve felt before - the aching need for pleasure so sharp it almost hurts.

“You okay, kid?” He breaks the silence, “You’re usually talking my ear off.”

The nickname is unintentional - it’s one he’s picked up from his time looking after El. You know this but it still bristles at you, a dull ache in your stomach causing your words to come out snappish, “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh,” he draws the word out with a scoff, “What, would you prefer ‘sunshine’?”

He’s being petty, defensive - glancing your way with brows pulled low, expression changing when he sees the way you’re sitting, tense and uncomfortable.

You flinch when his hand reaches across, the back of his palm brushing your forehead. Something blooms in your stomach, and you have to fight back a moan at his touch, the feeling between your legs almost like a pulse.

“Jesus, sweetheart.” He’s frowning, eyes darting your way, “You’re burning up. We need to get you home.”

All you can do is nod, your face pressing against the glass again - trying to ignore the instinct to press your thighs together.

———

It’s become almost unbearable by the time you find yourself among familiar roads - the long winding dirt path through the woods to the cabin. Somewhere along the drive, Hopper had offered to take you home, but his was a good 15 minutes closer.

You just needed some water, to sit down for a moment. You were sure it was nothing.

He shifts into park, legs taking him around to your door before you can fumble with the handle. Almost knocking the old wooden door off the hinges as he ushers you inside - the water still lukewarm from the tap as you gulp it down from a glass.

It soothes some of the heat that warms your face, but not the one that roils in your guts. You can’t hold back the groan that wracks your chest, hand splaying across your lower belly.

His hands almost feel cool on your cheeks as he cups them, worry clouding his blue eyes as he angles your face up to look at him.

“How are you feeling? Talk to me, baby.” He coaxes.

“Hurts.” You manage, blinking as you try to concentrate.

“Where?”

Silently, your hand slips lower, until it’s all but cupping your mound. The slightest brush of fingers making your eyes flutter shut, a soft needy groan falling from your lips.

Hopper goes still, unable to breath. Not even knowing what to say for a moment - trying to come up with something, anything, to help figure it out.

“Uh- did you take anything today? Try anything funny this morning?” He stammers, and your eyes flicker open.

A small shake to your head. And then, you pause, remembering.

“At Murray’s. I-It was pink. I didn’t mean to.” You tell him, and he’s nodding - it’s not much, but it’s something.

Leading you to the couch, your body slumping onto it as he heads for the phone. Digging through his pockets for the scrap of paper, silently hoping that Murray will actually pick up.

Your hands wander on their own, brushing across your thighs, up, and then up. A pad of your finger pressing against the thin cloth covering your clit, and fuck - it feels good. Maybe the best you’ve ever felt.

But somewhere in the fog, you know the couch is not the place to do this. With an effort you push yourself up, his eyes flicking worriedly to your wobbling gait as the phone rings.

The bathroom door creaking shut behind you - the wood muffling your moans as your fingers press against yourself again. Easing the ache, just for a moment.

His fingers wrap around the phone cord until it hurts - eyes trained on the closed door, foot tapping as he waits for answer.

“Hello?” Finally there’s a voice on the other end, and Hopper feels like he could strangle him.

“Murray? Jim.” He barks out, not waiting for a reply. “Something is wrong, she’s not doing well. Said she had something pink at your house.”

There’s a beat, before he’s cursing - his questions not quite making sense, “Jesus Christ. She didn’t, right? When did-?”

“What was it?” Hopper interrupts, his voice firm and low, one that he always seems to pull out during his interrogations.

“Let me think. I need to make sure.” There’s a crackle on the other end, the words chosen carefully. “How is she? What are her symptoms?”

Hopper blinks, “Uh, hot. Forehead is really warm. She seems distracted.”

“She um, said it hurts.” Not knowing how to word the next part, heat creeping across his own face, “Down there.”

He makes a face as he waits, scrubbing a palm across his forehead, and there’s an agonized groan on the other end.

“Okay. Can you ask her how much she had?”

His patience is running thin, worry and anger making his chest feel tight, “What the hell was it?”

Another beat of silence.

“It’s an… aphrodisiac. I was doing a story on it.”

He had the phone pressed so close to his ear that it creaks in his grip, “A what?”

“You know…” Murray hedges, and then sighs. “The tape you heard? The one that pissed you off so much? That was part of my research.”

Hoppers mouth feels dry, remembering the lewd, rhythmic moans. The word clicking into place in his mind, things starting to make a little more sense.

“Does it go away?”

“That’s why you need to ask her.” His tone turns serious, “You need to, right now.”

With a frustrated sigh, he sets the phone on the side table, crossing the room to the bathroom. Knocking, then calling out for you.

Listening, not meaning to hear your panting breaths, the stifled moans sliding out from between your teeth. He doesn’t mean to picture what you’re doing either - but the images pop into his mind, his fist tightening around the door handle.

Inappropriate. Get it together.

“Sweetheart?” He calls out, and he hears your sounds stutter. He hopes your listening, “The pink stuff. How much did you have?”

A moment as you think, the words slow from your lips, “Just a bit. It spilled on my hand.”

He’s back on the phone a second later, “She said just a little bit.”

“Thank god.” There’s a sigh on the other end, but Hopper doesn’t know what there is to sigh about, “I didn’t want to tell you, but the reason I was doing the story was a couple guys took too much. It uh, turns out it can cause cardiac arrest.”

The implication hangs in the air - he wants to ask more, but fears the answer. Murray presses on, “But if she just took a little, she should be okay. She needs to…”

There’s a pause as he sucks in a breath, “She needs to work through it to make it go away.”

“Work through it?” He echoes, brows furrowing.

“Yes. If she doesn’t, it hurts like hell. I tried it myself, just once.” Murray confesses, his voice low, “Drank some like a shot. It took twelve hours to go away. I was chafed red, Jim. Red.”

Hopper makes a face at the overshare, lips pulling down over clenched teeth, “That’s disgusting.”

“That’s what happens.” Murray answers firmly, “I’m just telling you, you might have to help her. Or find her help - don’t let her go through that pain.”

He doesn’t know what to think about that either. Doesn’t even want to think about it, helping you. Not like this, not when you’re not in your right mind.

The next call is quick, just to cover his bases - a call to the school. A message for El, asking is she can spend time with Max tonight. Hopefully you didn’t need the twelve hours, but he had no idea what to expect, or if he could move you.

Then the back of his knuckles are rapping on the door again, three short, sharp knocks. He calls your name, listening - his mind going a mile a minute. Opening the door when he hears you say his name, the two syllables drawn out in a soft whine.

Even with what he knows now, he’s unprepared. The bathroom in his cabin had always been small - barely enough room to squeeze in a tub, a toilet, the chipped sink with a mirror.

Small enough that he’s hit with the scent of your shampoo, perfume. Then, the sweet musk of your arousal, completely unmistakable. Combining into something that made his pants feel tight, his breath catching in his throat.

Pheromones, maybe - something he saw once on a nature documentary. Murray didn’t warn him about that part. His back sags against the door as he closes it.

Fuck, he can’t do this.

He’s already thinking things he shouldn’t be - because he knows you don’t see him the way he sees you. That your sugar-sweet smiles and nudges are the same you give everyone else.

Trying on occasion to put some distance. An act of self-preservation - he’s always been shit at love. Always on the wrong side. But then you drag him back in. Bright and stunning and blinding.

Sunshine in human form, after all.

You’re sitting, back against the wall - tucked in the far corner, opposite the tub. Elbows resting on spread knees, your dress dipping down between the soft curves of your thighs. The navy blue flash of panties as you shift, the light glinting off the wet gleam of your fingers has his eyes darting away - flushing as he clears his throat.

Your eyes glassy as you look up at him, the way he fills the doorway - even bigger and broader than usual from your spot on the floor. Another sharp throb shoots through you, and you moan out loud.

His brow furrows, and then he’s moving, crouching down to your level. Fingers reaching out to brush your forehead again, your skin burning hot against his fingers.

“Talked to Murray. You drank some experiment he’s been working on. Says you need to, uh-” His hand rubs the back of his neck - lacking the eloquence of his new friend, completely out of his depth. “Finish. To get rid of the uh, symptoms.”

This close, the throbbing increases, twisting in your guts into you ache. The smell of leather, tobacco, aftershave sending another pulse down your spine, your thighs pressing together in an attempt for release.

Your nod is sluggish, the fingers twitching again, “I tried, Hop. I can’t-”

“Is there… someone I can call for you?” His voice is gruff, trying as hard as he can to think with his brain and not with his cock, “A…boyfriend, an ex?”

There’s a thud as your head tilts back against the wall, as you fix him with a long look.

“Is my flirting really that terrible?” You ask, with a huff of a laugh that borders on delirious.

There’s a long pause as Hoppers mind trips to catch up, to interpret your words.

“Nevermind.” The smile that stretches your lips is resigned, your chest heaving in a panting breath as your hand waves dismissively, “That wasn’t fair of me to say. Just forget it, I’ll be okay, Hop. Really.”

“Wait, back up.” Hopper’s hands raise, his voice taking on an edge, “What the hell does that mean?”

Each word feels like an effort now, your tongue feeling heavy, your heart thudding between your thighs, “It means-, it means the person I’d want to call is… you.”

There’s silence for a long, agonizing moment.

“You don’t want me,” He rasps out, eyes flickering between your half-lidded ones, the glossy sheen of your parted lips where your tongue had flicked over them. “It’s the drug. You’re not thinking straight.”

“Jim.” The name punches out from your chest, your eyes locking onto his, the pretty splash of blue, “It’s not. I’ve always wanted you.”

Realization making him sway - the wooden floor crashes into his knees as he rocks forward. His head ducking down as you push yourself up to meet him.

A whimpering moan that shoots straight to his cock when your mouth meets his, one of his thick arms curling around, a palm pressing flat against your back. Your tongue already swiping at his lower lip, pressing closer until your breasts are crushed against the wide barrel of his chest.

His hands dropping, as he groans in response - cupping the globes of your ass, your thighs opening further for him as he yanks you up and onto his lap.

Fingers fly to the meat of his broad shoulders for balance, the fabric of your dress bunching under roaming hands. A clashing of teeth and tongues as you devour each other, your panting gasps as your core bumps into contact with the thick curve of his jeans.

Electricity flickering down your spine, a seam catching on your clit. The burning in your core turning into something closer to relief. Your hips jerk again to chase the sensation, just as a hand comes up to palm at your breast, the tight peak of your nipple.

“Hopper,” You’re moaning into his mouth, your fingers fisted in his shirt, trying to tug him even closer. Hips rolling, grinding down against the thick curve of his jeans, “Please.”

His last ounce of self-control leeching from him as he accepts what you’re asking. What you’re needing from him.

Begging, even - something he’s only ever dreamed about.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He promises, shifting - your thighs wrapping around his waist, a low whine from your throat as he tries to move.

Hopper gives up on untangling your limbs, instead pushes himself unsteadily to his feet; your arms encircling his shoulders. Lips dropping to his neck, pressing against skin.

Walking you through the door, until he can drop you onto his bed. You scoot backwards to make room for him as he lowers himself down next to you, crowding you closer to the cabin wall.

Fingers trailing up your shin, your thighs falling open, just as your eyes shut with another cramp of discomfort. Halting at your thigh, at the curving hem of your dress.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He asks, leaning over you, letting you call the shots the best he can.

“Touch me.” You beg, hand reaches for his, dragging it up between your thighs. Hips rocking into his fingers when they press down against your core.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans, feeling the damp cotton, your own hand going limp at your side as his flatten, rubbing at the fabric.

His other hand pushing your skirt up to your hips. Letting himself look now, the dark, wet stain of your panties under his fingers. Realizing they were never navy in color - the soft fabric cutting across your hips a light, sky blue. So similar to the shade of his eyes.

Your hips buck again, and his fingers slide beneath the fabric, slipping against soaked skin and soft curls. Another fresh wave of relief, pleasure curling over the pain, your fingers twisting around the pillow behind your head.

“Jesus. You’re soaked, sweetheart.” He grits out, fingers sliding up until they bump against the swollen bud of your clit, your response no more than a whimper.

Stroking against you, again and again - his fingers slick with your arousal. Sliding easily over your skin, making small, messy circles that have your breath catching in your throat.

A litany of pleas and moans falling from your lips, soft “oh, god-” mixing with his name. The sweet build of pleasure barreling down as his fingers touch you.

He’s impatient, the tight fabric limiting his movements, blocking the pretty sight of your pussy from his vision. The thumb of his other hand hooks on your waistband, tugging it down your thighs - your hips grinding into his hand as they rise to help.

A rough exhale of breath, the word “fuck” ground out through gritted teeth. Torn between wanting to keep going just like this - and knowing if you wanted more, that he’d have to use his fingers somewhere else.

His hand shifts, thumb rubbing over your clit, the middle sliding down, pressing against your entrance. Glancing at you for your nod before it sinks in, his fingers so much thicker and longer than your own.

Pressing down to the knuckle before withdrawing, starting a slow thrust that stretches you out. He’s so fucking hard, cock straining in his pants as he watches his finger disappear into you, your pussy so warm and tight around him. Thinking about how you’d feel wrapped around his fat cock, how good you’d feel coming on it.

Biting back a groan as he adds another, your own low whine as they press deep, finally itching at the ache of needing to be filled. Your words are slurred with drunk pleasure, your brain a messy fog.

“Make me come, Hop. Please-“

Fingers curling, each thrust of his wrist a loud, wet squelch in the small cabin. He shines with you, coating his fingers, leaking onto your inner thighs.

“I will baby, I promise.” He coaxes, trying to remember how it goes, fingers dragging against your inner walls until he feels you clench down around him, a ragged gasp in your throat.

His eyes flickering up again to yours, doing it again, again - watching the way your breaths grow shorter, tension coiling in your thighs.

The small rocking of your hips as you chase the movements of his thrusts, fucking yourself on his fingers, the soft pants of breath as you moan out “please” again and again.

Hopper shifts, pushing himself up - though you’re too close, too far gone to notice. Your eyes shut are shut, concentrating, when there’s the swirl of something hot and wet and soft against your skin.

Better than his thumb, eyes cracking open to see the way he bends over you, the pink flick of tongue as it presses against you, a low groan as he tastes you.

The scratch of his mustache, sending goosebumps across your skin. When his lips kiss against your clit and then suck, it becomes your undoing.

Unable to form words as the blinding pleasure peaks, instant relief flooding your system as you find your release. Soaking his fingers and tongue with a hoarse cry, limbs trembling with the effort.

The sounds you make when you come are prettier than he’s ever imagined - loud, panting moans, the heave of your breasts, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut in concentration.

Tight as hell around his fingers, he swears he can feel each pulse, the thud of your heartbeat in your clit as his tongue presses against it.

Devouring you until you finally go limp, before sliding his fingers from you. Bringing them to his mouth, unable to resist tasting the release that coats his fingers.

The sweet tang of your cunt as he sucks them clean, a low groan as his hips shift, pressing against the mattress.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, the fog starting to wane with each throb, though the desire still remained. The immediate pain quelled, but the deep ache of want and need was still burning in your veins.

Pushing yourself up, grasping at his shoulders until he’s hovering over you - your mouth tilting to meet his. His mouth tasting like you when your tongue darts against his, the rumbling groan as your hips shift up to rub against him.

“Thank you,” you moan into his mouth, and he almost wants to laugh, if the situation hadn’t been so disconcerting.

The thought about being thanked for something he’d dreamed about doing, never thinking he’d get the chance to bury his face between your legs.

He kisses you until you feel dizzy, until your hips are moving again, the damp spot darkening on the front of his jeans.

“More,” you break the kiss to beg, plucking at the buttons of his shirt, revealing inches of skin, greedily soaking him in.

“You need more or you want more?” He asks, hand curving to cup your jaw - a perfect fit, just like you imagined.

Lips feeling kiss-swollen as they scrape against the stubble of his jaw, down to his neck. Feeling the thud of his own pulse, “Both.”

He groans, loud and low, letting you tug at his belt, fingers working open the button. Hips shifting into your hand as you cup the hard bulge, your other hand tugging at the zipper.

A noise of disappointment as he rolls off you, the smallest hint of a smirk as he rids himself of his pants, boxers, “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

And he is, your fingers skating over his thick shaft, barely able to circle around it. It’s big, the fat head glistening with a bead of precum, and it smears across your thighs as he settles between them.

You wiggle against him, lining your hips up, but his hands are gripping onto your waist to hold you still.

“Easy, baby. Gonna hurt yourself.”

Taking a moment, his fist wrapping around the base. Sliding himself against you, you body flexing against the hand still holding you as he lines himself up.

Making sure he’s soaked with you before he starts to press in. Eyes bouncing between your face, trying to see if it’s too much, and unable to resist seeing the tip disappear into you, stretching you wide.

Your moan breaks his concentration, the feeling of him splitting you open almost too much. He feels even bigger than you imagined - making room for himself as he nudges into you. Stealing your breath with every small flex of his hips.

So much of him still left as he carefully thrusts his hips forward, the delicious slide of his cock against your walls before he withdraws. Breath heavy as he does it again, each time sinking a little deeper into you.

Almost flush now, his hands on your hips again. Keeping you pressed to the bed so you don’t try to take too much. Perhaps also to keep himself in check as well.

It’s overwhelming, how warm and tight you are around him. Squeezing him already, even with your come coating his cock, slicking him up. He’s afraid to move, thinking that if he starts thrusting, starts fucking you - that this will be over before it’s started.

His lips part as you wiggle against him again, trying to ignore your pretty pleas. The rough gravel of his voice drowning your sighs out, “Hold on, baby. I just need a minute.”

Fingers flexing against your skin, where the flesh pillows between them. But you need more, and you take matters into your own hands.

Your hand slides down, one lingering at your breast, cupping and squeezing the soft skin, pinching at a nipple. Sending a jolt racing down your spine as your other hand follows, drifting until you’re brushing between your thighs again.

Some of your wits now back, maybe enough that you can get yourself off - just like this.

Eyes on his, watching him watch how the tip of one circles your clit. The small rock of your hips that just barely causes him to move, buried in you. But it’s enough.

Your head tilting back as you set a pace, rolling your hips, again - again. Touching yourself, his name peppered in with the panting of your breath.

“Hopper, oh my god-“

And finally he finds his voice, fingers so tight you think they’ll leave bruises. The words skittering across your skin, as his head tilts up to yours, words coaxing, “That’s right sweetheart. Take what you need.”

Eyes fluttering open as the pleasure builds again as pressing your fingers harder, circling faster.

He’d been worrying about you dying earlier - just for a moment. Now he’s worrying about himself, heart pounding in his chest, listening to each little mewling gasp from your lips as you use him.

Fucking yourself with shallow thrusts on his cock, your pretty face screwed up in concentration. Each breath growing shorter and shorter - he can feel you starting to tense underneath him, the clench of your pussy around him as you squeeze in anticipation.

Keeping himself still, letting you get off on him - thinking that he’ll throw you off your rhythm if he moves, desperately wanting to see how it feels when you come on his cock.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Your eyes all but roll shut as your release hits you. The heavy shudder of your body, surprising him with the sharp jerk of your hips. Taking him even deeper - almost all the way as you flutter around him.

Even better than how you felt on his tongue, better than he’s imagined. The sounds you make louder and rougher when you’re stuffed full of him - as he lowers himself down, hands easing off you.

Letting you wrap your arms around his shoulders, face buried in his neck as you drift back down. Holding you until your hips stop moving - waiting until you relax before he slips from you.

You frown, not understanding until he rising up, nudging at your hips. Giving you room to flip over, his palm warm as it slides down your back.

“Hands and knees, baby.”

Wobbling only a little as you push yourself to your knees, back curving as your torso slips back down, pressing against the mattress.

Shifting until your ass rests flush against his front, letting you feel the thick curve of him pressing against your swollen lips.

“You want more sweetheart?” He asks, a thrust of his hips nudging his cock against you. “Or are you all worn out?”

Again putting the choice in your hands, though he wants nothing more to bury himself in your tight cunt again and fuck you proper.

“More.” You sigh, pressing back against him. Feeling and sounding more lucid - the desire more firmly situated in your thoughts, feelings, rather than chemical stimulation, “Want you to fuck me, Hopper.”

“Yeah?” He growls out, thumbs digging into the curve where your ass meets your thighs, spreading you wide.

“Yeah.” You confirm, the word turning into a moan when you feel the tip press against you again, and then he’s slowly sliding back in.

It’s still a stretch, even though you’ve already taken him, the angle so much different. He can see so much more like this, the tension strung tight in your back and shoulders, your fingers fisting in the sheet.

“Relax, sweetheart.” His hand smooths across your hip, thumb rubbing across your skin, easing forward until his thick thighs are pressing against yours, the curve of his stomach flush with your ass.

His first thrust is experimental - shallow, fingers gripping onto your waist. Rocking you with his movements as you groan, so sensitive that you think you can feel every vein, each ridge.

Again, and then again - until your cheek presses against the mattress so you can look at him, your eyes heavy lidded.

The peek of pink tongue between teeth as he concentrates, a hitch in his chest when you clench down around him. Shoulders flexing as your lips part, the words moaned out - a plea, “Harder. I won’t break.”

Fingers digging into your skin, as you add a soft, “Please.”

It tips him over, hands jerking your hips back - all but impaling you on his cock. Sinking himself deep, filling you completely.

Your gasp is low and loud, head tilting back. Urging him to do it again, and so he does. Gripping your hips as he starts thrusting, your panting moans mingling with the wet squelch of your pussy as he pounds into you.

Shifting, his thighs bumping into yours, lifting your hips, pressing you further into the mattress.

Changing the angle, his cock dragging along your walls. His forward thrust nudging against a spot that makes you cry out, muscles clenching, pleasure flooding your senses.

“Yeah?” He asks through clenched teeth, voice like gravel.

Finding it again, and then again. Your fingers gripping the sheets, lips parted as the moans are pushes out of you. Hurtling towards the edge, your hips rocking back to meet him the best you can.

And when his hand moves, fingers pressing against your slick, sensitive clit, it only takes a few flicks of his wrist until you’re trembling, your words a jumble of begging pleas.

“Oh god yes, Jim, please, please-”

Soaking his cock as you start to flutter, tight and hot and almost overwhelming him. His name sounding so goddamn good on your lips as you chant it, the little jerks your hips make as his fingers keep moving.

Your eyes shut as you ride out the waves, your body relaxing into his grip. Realizing he’s still thrusting, drawing your pleasure out, still pressing against your clit.

“Come on honey, one more.” You just catch the rough rasp of his voice, raising goosebumps across your skin, “Let’s get it out of your system. I want to be the only one helping you.”

Quickly working you up again, until his own thrust starting to stutter. Your tight heat too much, he’s not going to last much longer. Trying to hold himself back a little longer, but it’s he thinks he already too far gone.

“Fuck baby, I’m close,” Hopper pants, and thinking about him coming makes you moan. “Where do you want me?”

“In me.” You beg, already close again - from his touch, his words.

“Fuck.” He repeats, “Goddamn-”

His groan low, hips snapping forward, the slap of his balls against your pussy before he grinds himself deep. The sharp thrusts sending you over with him, your own orgasm washing over you as you feel the hot pulse of his ropes painting your walls.

Basking in the sweet feeling release as he ruts against you - until you’re filled - until his hips finally start to slow.

Chest heaving as he catches his breath, fingers carding through his hair, brushing it back. Your thighs burning in a nice, used way - your head pressing against the mattress so you can peek up at him.

Taking a long minute, and then another. Until your breathing finally slows, until the tension melts from both of you. A hand rubs your lower back, above where you are still joined.

“More?” He asks, his gaze heavy as he meets yours.

You clench down around him, squeezing him as his release gets pushed out, dripping down your thighs. He twitches inside you.

“More.”

———

Evening has fully settling in when the two of you finally collapse - his head hitting the pillow with a heavy, satisfied sigh. Your body going limp against his, pressing yourself flush against him.

Your cheek scrubs against the hair sprinkled across his chest, your movements slow and sated. The fire - finally, completely - quenched, the only warmth now coming from your sweaty, sticky skin.

The humor returning, now that the danger has passed. A rumble of laugher beneath your ear, the click of a lighter, his voice a low rasp before he takes a drag of his cigarette.

“If you wanted me that badly, sweetheart, you could have just asked. No need to go through all that trouble.”

Unbelievable.

Your head tilts upwards as you fix him with a glare, “You’re lucky I’m too tired to move.”

His hand lifts to cup your chin, thumb scrubbing tenderly across your cheek. Another breath that takes you with it, rising and falling as you sag against him.

“‘Lucky’ is goddamn right.” He tells you, his teeth flashing with his smile.

And with that, you find yourself smiling, too.

#please mind the tags!#been working on this for a bit - hope you like it! 💕#jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper imagine #hopper x reader #hopper x you #jim hopper smut #jim hopper

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chanluster · 4 years ago

Text

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.

3K notes · View notes

ceciliablossoms · 3 years ago

Note

tiramisu for diluc albedo and childe pleasee pelapdepleasepleaselplz

Of course!!

ALSO TYSM @nonbiananrywrites FOR YOUR HELP ILY

I did however choose to go easy on them

TW: Injury, Anxiety, Panic, Blood

Tiramisu: "Deep breaths... You'll be okay."

-------

Diluc

Anxiety was nothing new to them, especially when it came to Diluc and his role as the Darknight Hero. He mostly came home unscathed, but the rare injury often sent an icy panic through their veins. Even if the aforementioned wound were to be minuscule at most, it would still cause them great worry.

His bloody clothing often reminded them that he could one day never return home. Even with the occasional help of the Traveller on his side, their worries continued to eat away at them from the inside. The gash across his arm that stayed limp at his side was the straw that broke the camel's back.

When he entered the winery, exhaustion prevalent, they approached him with haste. Immediately, they ushered him to take a seat, offering to make him a meal, but as they pulled their hand away from resting on his arm it felt sticky. They glanced down at their crimson-stained palm with wide eyes.

It took them a moment to process as they stared at the red that coated the fingers. The warmth of it seemed to burn them as their panic set in. Their eyes began to water.

They demanded that he remove his jacket so that they could tend to his wound. As they gathered their supplies their hands trembled with fear. While they tenderly dressed his wounds, they wept, their bottled up anxiety finally spilling out.

As hard as they tried not to make a noise, they could not prevent themselves from sniffling.

Once their tears dripped onto his bandages, Diluc pulled his arm away, and with great care, he placed his uninjured hand gently on their cheek. With slow, careful movements, he guided them to look up at him, and they averted their eyes. As they let out a sob, he pulled them closer, embracing their shaking form as they cried.

His voice was quiet when he spoke to them, knowing why they were upset, "Deep breaths... You'll be okay."

There was a pause before they responded. "But you won't." Their voice broke as they spoke, clutching his shirt in their hands.

He hummed quietly as he glanced over the arm that they had bandaged, a frown everpresent on his face. He stared down at them softly as they grew overwhelmed.

They were afraid for him, and he knew it. He had always known it even when they had tried to conceal it. The emotions they'd tried to keep under wraps had begun to seep out, and as they tried so desperately to stop it from overflowing it slipped between their fingers.

"I'll make more of an effort to keep myself from getting injured again. Even if it means... I have to ask for help...." They stared at him in surprise.

Though his verbal reassurances weren't very much in terms of comfort, him swallowing his pride certainly was. Even if the help was from just the honorary knight, they'd be happy. He would at the very least have someone watching his back.

They smiled through their tears, "Promise?"

He nodded in sincerity but let out a small sigh. "Promise."

Albedo

They sighed, stumped once more as they worked on their experiment with Sucrose. Something just wasn't right. No matter how many times they redid it the outcome was always different, even if it was done the exact same way down to a T.

They exchanged glances of disappointment with Sucrose as the two looked over their notes once more. Usually, the liquid in the vials in front of them at the very least changed colour. This time it didn't do anything! No colour change. No heat or steam was produced. It didn't even bubble.

They were at their wit's end, despite their work partner's eagerness to continue. Running a hand through their hair, they glanced over their ingredients on the table, neat and organized in their respective alchemical devices and containers.

"Maybe we should ask Albedo?" They proposed. Sucrose looked up from the messy notebook in her hands.

"P-Perhaps you're right." She looked slightly disheartened that neither of them could figure out a solution but also relieved that they suggested grabbing Albedo for assistance before they made a big mess of it.

They'd stepped out momentarily to find the blonde alchemist as Sucrose continued to fiddle with the experiment.

On their hunt they found him browsing the library, searching high and low for a book he seemed to be struggling to pinpoint the location of. At the sound of familiar footsteps, he turned his head to peer over at them. He nodded in greeting as they waved at him with a smile.

"Albedo, could I perhaps trouble you for some assistance? Sucrose and I can't seem to figure out where we're going wrong." They kept their voice down as to it disturb the other people in the library.

"Of course. What is it that you're having trouble with?" He approached them as they led the way back to the alchemy lab.

"Well, the outcome is always different even if we replicate it perfectly. We don't know what the issue is."

"I see." He put his hand on his chin, deep in thought as they opened the door for him.

As the two entered, Sucrose stood over the beaker with a proud expression, "I-I managed to get a reaction out of it even though this one this one w-was different too."

They approached with Albedo following behind. As he stood on the other side of Sucrose, they picked it up carefully with the curious examination. This vial had become a peculiar shade of green and fizzed like it were a carbonated drink. It emitted an odd odour when they swirled the liquid inside.

"What did you do differently?" They asked as they held it up to eye level.

As Sucrose opened her mouth to speak the vial seemed to heat up rapidly. They let out a small whine and switched hands before setting it down entirely. Albedo was quick to move after that, pulling Sucrose away roughly and making a grab for them as the liquid reacted violently causing the glass to explode into shards.

Covering their face, they yelped as glass pierced their skin, Albedo not quite having reached them. They moved their arms, staring down at the glass embedded in them with widened eyes. Albedo kneeled to their level after telling Sucrose to fetch a medical kit.

They were breathing heavily whether, from pain, panic, or both was indecipherable at the moment. His top priority was to remove the glass. As Sucrose handed him the kit, she moved to clean the workspace and dispose of the mess.

He stood them up and moved them to a table across the room where he removed the glass with tweezers. Thoroughly, he cleaned their injuries, muttering a few words to them as they shook in his grasp.

"Deep breaths... You'll be alright."

His voice was soothing as they focused on it to distract from the stinging in their forearms. He'd fully removed and disposed of all the glass and was now focusing on cleaning any hazardous material out to prevent infection. It wasn't as efficient as it would have been if he'd taken them to see Barbara, but when dealing with things as hazardous as these, it was more pressing to clean it on site.

Gingerly, he staunched the bleeding as Sucrose tossed the shards into the bin before scurrying out hurriedly to go get Barbara. He wrapped their arms with bandages.

"Sucrose will return shortly with Barbara, so she can help you more efficiently." He kept his voice quiet so he wouldn't startle them.

They nodded as they leaned against him, but said nothing. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around them to keep them steady as their panic began to wear off. They seemed tired.

"Thank you," Their voice was groggy.

"Of course, dearest."

Tartaglia

Frigid rain burned their skin as they stared out at the serpentine beast rising from the ocean. Everyone around them froze, staring out at the monster that summoned the storm. Panic broke out amongst the crowd as the situation finally sank in and the citizens of Liyue scurried to either get inside.

They backed away from the docks slowly as the rain increased in intensity, pelting them painfully. As they made their way through the harbour, they got jostled left and right by others pushing past them. The overwhelming feeling made them panic, their anxiety skyrocketing.

There were so many people around them in hysterics, looking for loved ones, searching for family. Loved ones... Where was Childe? Their stomach dropped.

Despite their emotions, they pushed onward, refusing to stop until they found their significant other. They knew that he could handle himself and were 100% certain that he was fine. Yet, they couldn't help but feel like something was wrong.

High and low they searched for him. All across the harbour, they hunted for him, coming up empty-handed. Even with the occasional call of his name, they got nowhere.

As they came to a stop at the entrance of the harbour, their panic grew tenfold. As they crossed the bridge leading to Guili Plains, they saw a familiar mixture of grey and red upon the cliffside.

They broke into a sprint, calling out his name with urgency. He was staring out at the God that wreaked havoc, an almost triumphant expression across his face. At the sound of his name, he turned his head to them.

Immediately he stood to meet them, and his expression turned to one of pain. He wasn't bleeding but the hand clutching his side as well as his face showed very clearly that he was hurt. They clung to him, faltering when he made a pained noise at the impact of their embrace.

They tensed, "W-We need to get inside! A-And you're hurt."

They grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back to the Harbour. He could feel them shaking, the cold probably not helping their frazzled state. Coming to a stop, he pulled them to his chest.

He rubbed their back gently as they struggled to breathe evenly, "Deep breaths... You'll be okay."

He watched the chaos unfold over their shoulder, knowing he'd eventually have to slip away to the Northland bank to meet with Signora. Nonetheless, though, he comforted them with reassuring words and touches.

They pulled away and dragged him along toward their home so they could care for him, "What happened?"

Their voice was laced with broken confusion. They had no idea what was happening, nor what had spurred it on and on top of it all their beloved was injured.

His response was delayed but he said something about getting tossed around in the crowd. In all honesty, they weren't listening, focusing solely on icing the bruises across this torso. They fidgeted anxiously.

He cupped their face, feigning the same anxious expression that they were showing outwardly. "It'll be okay," He vowed, "Hey, whatever that thing is out there will get dealt with."

They nodded shakily, finding some solace in his words as they leaned against him in tears. He held them close and stroked their hair, shielding them from the window. It wasn't until the Jade Chamber fell and the storm stopped that the weight of stress wiped them out.

Tag List: @fictionalcharactersthatsit @youaskedfurret @nagatorou @seiiblue @dai-tsukki-desu @dilucs-claymore @rainy-day-vibez @duhsies @tempehlust @somniomi

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legoshi-plz · 5 years ago

Text

Captivity (Legoshi x Reader)

Summary: You and Legoshi are kidnapped and forced to breed. That’s it.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW 18+), Dark Themes/ Elements

A/N: @jiffygis requested a Legoshi x Omnivore! Reader so I went with a Dog because it fit the narrative of the story a little better.

///////////

“HELP! ANYONE PLEASE!” You scream as you’re thrown into the cellar. The floor is cold and hard, you scrape your knee on the way down.

“Y/N? Is that you?” You recognize that voice but it’s much too dark to see.

“Oh shit, that right you can’t see. It’s me, Legoshi,” Your heart leaps at the familiar name.

“Legoshi! Where are you, I can’t- I-,” you flail your arms until you come into contact with the soft warmth that is his fur. He takes your hand.

“Where are we?” You whine, a tremble of fear lacing your voice.

“I don’t know, I was with the rest of the art department setting up for the festival and next thing I knew, I woke up here. Do you remember how you got here?” You could hear in his voice he was trying to be rational and keep the panic at bay. For that you were grateful because you were already on the verge of tears.

“N-no,” you choked back a sob.

Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it tog-

“Well well well, what do we have here,” came a loud voice as the lights finally came on. You could finally see that the cellar wasn’t a cellar at all. It was a room with a large glass wall that revealed the source of the voice on the other side.

An older ram with horns so big they could have only been surgically enhanced stood on the other side. He wore an all red suit with gold cuff links and was flanked by two equally luxurious bulls, his protection no doubt.

“I see the boys weren’t lying when they said they’d brought me a prize. Quite the specimens indeed,” he grinned manically, revealing a set of pristine veneers.

“Who are you? What do you want from us?” Legoshi asked, subconsciously pushing you behind him in case things went astray.

“Ah yes, I suppose an explanation is in order. [Redacted]’s my name and I’m what you’d call.... a breeder. Used to breed for the Black Market but there’s no real money in that. Not like in Brawls that is.” Your heart sank at the words.

Brawls were an evolved form of antiquated Dogfights. They were illegal which made the underground circuit that much more profitable. You cringed at the thought of him entering you two into such a life. Legoshi was strong, an Alpha male, a wolf; he’d make it for sure. Yourself on the other hand? You were a Dog, a [Y/D/B] to be exact, one of the most domesticated species out there. You didn’t even eat meat for goodness sake! You wouldn’t last a minute in one of those bloodbaths.

“Seeing how easily my men brought you in, I can tell that neither of you can put up a fight. Looks like you’ll just have to serve a higher purpose.” The Ram guffawed a hideous laugh, his lackeys joining in obnoxiously.

“Please just let us go! We won’t tell anyone!” You yelp, still clinging to Legoshi’s hand.

“Oh I intend to let you go, dearie. After you’ve earned your freedom. You two are gonna breed me pups. Grey Wolf fighters will dominate in the ring and you’re going to give me a whole army of them.”

“But I’m not a Grey Wo-

“That’s clear to everyone in this room, Dog. But you’re young, healthy, and ripe for being bred. With genes as strong as his, they’ll run right through you.” He fished through his jacket pocket, pulling out a cigar and lighting it.

“Now.... how old are you two?” His lust-tinged eyes raked over the two of you.

“We’re highschoolers!” Legoshi spat, baring his fangs.

“That don’t answer my question.”

“Eighteen.” Legoshi said through gritted teeth.

“E-eighteen,” you sighed in defeat.

“Thought so. A little too young for my taste, so unfortunately I won’t be joining you for your first few breeds but maybe in future romps. However, my boys will be staying behind to make sure Wolfie gets the job done right.” The Ram began to make his exit, pausing right before he reached the doorway.

“And if he doesn’t get the job done right, my men will be sure to give you both a hands on demonstration on how to breed. And I assure you, no one breeds quite like bulls.”

The door slammed and you felt your heart drop. You looked up at Legoshi but he was refusing eye contact, his glare focused on the 2 enormous bulls on the other side of the glass who pulled up 2 chairs, waiting for the ‘show’ to start.

“Look we’re gonna give you about 15 minutes to get your shit together. Talk it out, foreplay, whatever you gotta do but if when the times up, we don’t see any fucking, we’re coming in and I’ve got a hard-on you wouldn’t believe, sweetheart,” One of the goons smirked, winking at you. You dropped your head in disgust.

“Legoshi, what are we gonna do?” You whined, tugging at his sleeve.

“I- I don’t know,” he covered up his face with the one hand you weren’t clinging to for dear life.

“I don’t want them to... to...” you couldn’t even say it, which in a way felt worse and somehow darkened the atmosphere even more.

“Legos-

“TEN MORE MINUTES,” The bull called and you felt a chill run down your spine.

“Look Legoshi, we don’t have a choice, your going to have to-

“Don’t! Don’t say it!”

“Legoshi look at me!” He forced himself to finally face you. “You’re going to have to fuck me. We don’t have a choice in this and we can’t wait around anymore. Just... I don’t know, close your eyes and pretend I’m someone else if you have to. We just have to get the job done,” you lamented, your cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“What- what if I hurt you?” Legoshi’s eyes softened and you caught a glimpse of the turmoil behind his eyes. You could see you needed to grant him permission.

“You could never hurt me worse than they will if they come in here. Now please Legoshi, I need you,” you could see the resolve settle in his eyes and he sighed in defeat.

“Should I... or did you...? Your, um, clothes,” he said gesturing to your uniform.

“Oh, um, I guess whatever will get you going,” Legoshi seemed torn so you decided to proceed taking off your own clothes.

“C’mon, we don’t really have time for this. What can I do to get you hard?” You asked throwing off your top and dropping your skirt.

“I-I don’t know okay...” Legoshi said as he started peeling off his own clothes.

“Legoshi.... are you? Are you a-

“FIVE MINUTES RUNTS!”

“Yeah I am,” he cringed kicking his shoes off. He seemed mortified.

“Wow I never would have imagined,”

“It’s pathetic, I know.”

“No! It’s not pathetic at all, I’m one too. I just thought... I mean look at you, you’re the farthest thing from unattractive. And then you’re so.... well... such an ideal partner, especially in the Carnivore community, not to mention your kind of mysterious which is also desirable to most girls on top of being so kind and considerate so I just naturally assumed....” you trailed off when you noticed he was undressed already except for his underwear, taking in everything you said with an unreadable expression.

“Sorry! I’m just rambling because I’m nervous.” You unclasped your bra, revealing your chest to all three of the small audience. You heard a lewd whistle from one of the Ram’s henchmen.

“Let the show begin Sugartits, and you better make it a good one!” The Bulls roared with laughter. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves before you dropped to your knees in front of Legoshi.

“W-what are you doing?” Legoshi gasped, his ears and tail nearly standing on end.

“This won’t work out for either of us if you’re soft,” you said yanking down his underwear. To your surprise, though not at maximum potential, he was far from ‘soft’.

You took his awakened member into you hands and pumped it twice before capturing the head between your lips. He was warm, oh so warm. You couldn’t help but moan at the feeling, the sensation in turn causing him to tremble.

He began to really grow in your mouth, it seemed as if the more you took of him, the more there was. You began to really get into it, using both hands to pump him while taking as much as you could down your throat. You had never been in this position before so you glanced up to see if he was even enjoying this only to find him with both his hands placed firmly behind his back, his teeth gritted.

“Legoshi...” you called in a thick voice that came out lustier than you intended, “relax, you’ve got to enjoy this to some degree of we’re going to get you to cum.”

You released his pulsating member and stood up, so that you could pull his towering frame down to lay on the ground. It was easier said than done but once he laid down, you mounted him.

“Calm down, Legoshi. Forget about them, okay? It’s just us here,” you whispered, nuzzling into his neck, hoping to calm him down. You were met with a strained growl in return. He was still holding back.

Your knowledge of sex education began and ended with sexual relations between Dogs, however, your own curious nature had more often than not tempted your porn searches towards the Wolf genre which was shockingly similar. You desperately tried to rack your brain to think of what to do in this situation but in almost every instance of a domesticated canine and a Wolf, there was very little for the canine to do other than simply.... submit. And that was exactly what you were going to do.

“Legoshi... let it out. You don’t have to hold back. I’m ready for you to take me,” you moaned, nipping along his jawline.

In an instance you were on your back. Legoshi hovered above you and you could tell something in him snapped. He was ready to finally let the Wolf take over.

He practically ripped your underwear off your body, prying your legs open and inhaling a long, pointed whiff of your natural essence. He started salivating immediately, seeming almost intoxicated off your sent alone.

He dove right in, not wasting a second in tasting you. His growls became louder as he lapped at the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he growled against your sex before diving back in. You moaned as your paws found their way into the fur on his head, tugging lightly. If Legoshi was anywhere near inexperienced, he definitely wasn’t showing it.

His tongue pulled you closer and closer to the edge until you felt yourself go lightheaded. You could feel your orgasm already at its brink.

“Legoshi,” you moaned, your grip on his fur brutal as you came in ecstasy. Legoshi finally rose, his eyes feral with need. He wasted no time aligning himself with your entrance before he began to stretch you out as slowly as he could being this consumed with lust.

His growl was absolutely menacing as he bottomed out inside you, your body feeling full to the brim. He started off with a few weak thrusts before the sensation drove him to increase to a near bruising speed.

You were in heaven at the foreign feeling of being connected with another animal in such a primal way. It was like Legoshi was everywhere, hovering above you, caging you between his massive arms while he harrowed at your womb.

You were still sensitive from the previous orgasm he’d given you so the second one came suddenly, catching you completely by surprise. You cried his name in a strained, desperately horny voice that sounded almost nothing like you.

Legoshi’s thrusts became harder, with more force as his knot began to lock into place. With a few more pumps, he came with a howl, his body locked into yours by the swollen knot. You both caught your breath as the reality of the situation began to dawn on the two of you again.

“Shit, Y/N are you okay? Did I hurt you?” His exhausted eyes filling with a light panic. You brought your hand to the side of his face to stroke his fur in an attempt to calm him. From the way he nuzzled into your hand, you’d say that it worked.

“I’m fine, Legoshi. More than fine. That was.... incredible,” you didn’t miss the way his tail began to wag at the praise.

“Y/N, I-” he was cut off by the sound of the door slamming. You both looked over to see the Ram’s henchmen had taken their exits, their jobs done.

Your eyes began to feel low, and you struggled to keep them open. Legoshi noticed your spent state and wrapped his arms around you, flipping the the two of you so that you were lying on his chest. You buried your face into his soft as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

“Y/N.... I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now...” was the last thing you heard before slumber claimed you, Legoshi’s confession falling of deaf ears.

#beastars #legoshi x reader #legoshi #beastars legoshi #beastars legoshi x reader #legoshi x you

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holdmyowos · 4 years ago

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Training (Aizawa/Shinso x Neko Female Reader Smut)

Includes: Age gap, neko, polyamory, predator-and-prey dynamics, bondage, use of word 'sensei', unprotected sex

A/N: The two of you are done with hero studies but Hitoshi still trains with Aizawa pretty frequently.

You had been with plenty of other guys, but Hitoshi was by far the best you had ever been with. He was so sweet and caring. Plus, he loved cats! Since your quirk let you transform into one, it was perfect. The only downside was that he was a virgin, and he refused to have sex with you. After a couple months into your relationship, he had decided that he was finally ready to take the next step. You had it all planned out. That special occasion would be nowhere near when you were on your period, so he could do as he pleased, and you would be totally ready for him. Often you had caught him looking at cat girls on his phone and touching himself, so you knew exactly what he liked. His favorite color was black, and his second favorite color was silvery grey, so you made sure to incorporate that into the design. Since he was a pro hero with a ton of money, he gave you all the money you wanted to make your costume. You were going for an e-girl type of vibe. You had a black choker with a small silver bell on it. You had long boots on with fishnet tights. You were wearing a short black skirt over your lacy grey panties that matched your lacy silver bra. You had your hair back in two loose buns, tied with silver ribbons. You topped it all off with a black crop top with a revealing boatneck. You put a deep red color of lipstick on. When you were done with your eyeshadow, you worked on making your eyeliner wings perfectly sharp, matching. Your tail and cat ears were out. When you looked in the mirror, even you were impressed. It was ridiculous, no doubt. If you walked into a store, everyone and their grandma would be staring. Any other day you would have laughed at how over-the-top it was, but today you looked sexy as hell. You put your hand on your butt and took a picture in the mirror. Today was going to be a day to remember for sure.

After spending half an hour getting ready, you called your boyfriend, sure he could hear the smile in your voice. "Hey baby, are you ready to come over?" You tried to put as much excitement in your voice as possible. He chuckled. "You better believe it. You want to prepare yourself before I get over there, so we can fully enjoy ourselves?" You shuddered at his implications. "I'm not so certain I catch your drift," you prompted him. You got the desired reaction. "Listen, kitty cat." You could hear the tightness in his voice, as if he wanted to fuck you then and there. "I want you to take that vibrator that I got you for you as a present, and shove it in that tight pussy of yours until it's leaking for me." He clicked the end call button, and a buzz went off in your ear as you turned the vibrator on a low setting.

Your plans were totally falling apart now. You soon became bored with playing with yourself, and angrily called your man. He would not answer. You texted, 'Where the hell are you?' Happily, almost immediately he started typing. 'I had to go train with Aizawa. Sorry. Just be patient, I'll get home around 8.'8? Freaking 8?! It was currently 5. You were not waiting that long for him. He had promised you, and you had been planning this for too long for him to just say 'later'. He had even taken the last couple days off of hero work just so that he had plenty of rest. He had recently looked really good, for once not totally sleep-deprived and running only on coffee and kisses. "Gotta make your first time special, 'toshi," you muttered to yourself as you slid in the car. If he was not coming to you, then you could come to him. He was not getting around this, even if you had to fuck him in front of his old teacher. That thought caught you off guard. In school, you had a slight crush on the young, handsome Shota Aizawa, but thinking of fucking your boyfriend in front of him was a bit strange.

When you were finally at the building, the gym that Hitoshi and Aizawa trained at, you shut the car off and turned off the lights. The gym was privately owned by just the two of them together, so they often came here to train during the day or whenever they had free time. Aizawa might seem modest, but he had a huge salary just like the rest of the pro heroes, so he could afford things like that. You walked up the stairs to the door, slowly opening it. You heard breathless sighs and grunts. It was pretty cute. They must be busy training. You slowly shut the door with nothing but a small click. A small brick wall about four feet tall separated them from your view. You glanced down to the area below the walking track that you were on, leaning over the edge to see. The two of them seemed engaged in a sparring match, both of them having discarded their shirts. You found yourself looking at Aizawa instead of your boyfriend. He just looked so sexy, his long hair rubbing against his large muscles. Reluctantly, you turned your gaze to Hitoshi, not unimpressed with what you saw there either. Hitoshi had abs? His workout sessions must have been paying off. The two stopped their match when Aizawa glanced up towards you apprehensively. You ducked under the wall before they could see you. The two talked in hushed voices. "Did you hear that sound? Is someone else here?" One of them said quietly, but your cat ears picked it up. Footsteps came up the stairs. Maybe you could have fun making them chase you.

You flicked your bell so it jingled, and ran in the opposite direction of the stairs, ducking so they could not see you over the wall. You skidded to a halt as Aizawa landed in front of you, his capture weapon having propelled him up from the ground. Sadly, his shirt was back on. You frowned. In a matter of seconds, he had you hanging from the ceiling, suspended upside-down, your head a foot away from the floor. You put your skirt up so it was covering your thighs again, and held them there with your hands. Being held upside down had made your skirt drop, and he probably saw your panties. "Hello, Aizawa-Sensei!" You said, enthusiastically. It had been awhile since you had seen him. Aizawa had gained a cute little scar on his cheekbone, right below his eye. He scoffed, loosening his white rope that he had tied around you, yet he still did not let you go. "Oh, it's just you, Y/N. What are you doing here, in my gym? I thought you were a villain, or something." He remembered your name! Yay! That must be hard, knowing the hundreds, perhaps even thousands of students he had to go through.

Your croptop flipped, revealing the underside of your breasts and your bra. You kept your hands on your skirt, however. You giggled at him. He noticed the motion of your croptop against the gravity, and eyed you up and down, as if only now realizing what you were wearing, he looked away from you. "And why the hell are you wearing something so slutty? A man with less self control could become a villain with just the lust of looking at you." He turned his back to you, running his fingers through his hair. Was he trying to hit on you? Did he think you were here for him? Your tail swayed gently at the thought, accidentally and lightly brushing against his neck. He shuddered at the touch, running your tail through his fingers. Rarely did anyone ever touch your tail, and usually it was intimately. You gripped your skirt tighter at the thought, not wanting him to see how wet your underwear was getting. Or did you want him to see?

Hitoshi came up behind you from the stairs, panting and out of breath, his shirt still off. You turned to see him, still dangling in midair. You were staring at his muscles that moved as he breathed and walked towards you. He sucked in a breath as he saw you. "Y/N, is that really you? You're stunning," he said, amazed by your looks. "Hitoshi, there was many better ways to get up here faster than running. You need to learn to use your rescources," Aizawa said, not looking you in the eyes, dropping you from his capture weapon and holding you bridal style in his arms before letting you go, waiting for your feet to gently touch the floor before he stopped supporting you. It was a really sweet gesture. You twined your tail around Aizawa's arm, then let him go.

The three of you just stood there in an awkward silence. Hitoshi came forward. "Sorry, sensei. This is my girlfriend, Y/N. I think you already know her." Aizawa simply nodded. "Well, are you sure she's your girlfriend?" He challenged. Your heart leapt at the words. "W-what do you mean? She even dressed really nicely for me. I... I was supposed to do something with her tonight, but I postponed it to train with you when you asked. That's probably why she's here." Aizawa backed you into the wall behind you. You gulped, face flushed. You loved and hated this feeling at the same time. What would Hitoshi think of you being aroused at this man's advances? He gently held your arms, pinning them above your head, and pressed his lips against your neck, trailing up to your face. His chest rubbed against your sensitive breasts. "What a pretty kitty," he said. You blushed, not smiling, at Hitoshi. "Hey, leave her alone! She doesn't want you!" All that Aizawa did was let out a low chuckle. "Of course she does. You've made her wait too long. I would never do such a thing. I'd... feed my kitty whenever she felt hungry." He growled the last part of his speech in your ear. Your heart skipped a few beats. "She likes you and doesn't want to offend you, I can tell by how she doesn't smile at me, but her blush and her cute little voice says something else all together." He took his hands and gently fondled your breasts under your shirt, and you let out a very slight whimpering sound, biting your lip to try to keep it from betraying your feelings. "Y/N, is this true?" Your boyfriend asked. You looked away from him in shame, making the mistake of meeting Aizawa's intense eyes. You did not need to say anything, since the deafening silence spoke volumes.

Surprisingly, Aizawa slowly released you from his hold. To say you were disappointed was putting it mildly. You practically whined at the loss, his warm hand's touch still lingering on your breasts. He smirked at Hitoshi. "However, since you brought her back to me, I will make you a deal. First one to find and capture her gets to control what happens next. Sound good to you, kitty cat?" You saw Aizawa slip him a pair of handcuffs. So that was how the game was going to be played. You nod. Seeing Hitoshi's uncertainty, you goaded him. "What, you're not scared of him, are you?" He fell for it, snapping at you. "I am not!" He turned to the older man, who obviously knew what he was talking about. "Fine, I'll accept your dumb terms, but with one condition. We both have to do what Y/N tells us to do." He stuck out his hand, and Aizawa immediately shook it. A thrill went up your spine, knowing that both of these men had fallen hard for you, willing to do anything just to be with you. Both of them turned to you.

Hitoshi flipped the lights off, so only you and your cat eyes could see well. "You better run, kitty. The chase is on," one of them said. You held the bell tightly in your hand, keeping it from jingling too loudly. You kicked off your boots so you could be more silent, moving around the track and down the stairs onto the training floor, making no noise other than the small muffled jingles. There was no way either of them could find you. You were in your element, the darkness was your friend. If there was one thing a cat was good at, it was quietly slinking around. You let go of your bell, and let it jingle once.

"Hey there kitty. I found you." Aizawa popped out of seemingly nowhere, forcing the handcuffs on your arms, pressing his knee gently into the small of your back, sending a small wave of pain over you. You knew he did not mean anything of it, that was simply the best way to do it. Still, you let out a tiny cry, a mewl of pain. "That was cute, kitty. Do it again." He pressed on you harder. Now he definitely meant it. "Sensei, please let go," you said desperately. He reluctantly got off of you and turned half of the lights back on, giving the place a different vibe. You looked up at his head as Hitoshi came towards you. He had on his yellow glasses, the ones that let him see in the dark. He had a giant grin on his face. "What did I say, Hitoshi? Think smarter, not harder. You need to learn to use your resources," he said, clicking your handcuffs off once Hitoshi saw that he had won. He sighed in defeat, realizing the power his teacher had over him.

"What's our safe word, kitty cat?" He all but hummed. You were turned on by how abrupt he was. "How about catnip," you suggest. "Great idea. Perfect for my little kitten," he said, piling up some of the training mats for a makeshift bed. "It was supposed to be 'toshi's first time. Please go easy on him, sensei," you admitted for your boyfriend. He only let out a sadistic chuckle, guiding the two of you to the mats. "Fine, then. Show me what you were going to do for him when he got home," he said. You were only too happy to oblige. "Well, first I was going to beat his ass for getting home so late, figuratively, of course," you said, glancing at Hitoshi. "Then I... well, I think it's best if I let the actions do the talking for me." Aizawa nodded.

You kissed Hitoshi fiercely, so happy that you would finally get to feel someone's skin on yours. You had been denied for too long. You straddled his body, and made the kisses deeper, practically eating his face, and he did it right back, desperate for you before Aizawa stole his fun. He shuddered, breathless, gasping for air from the kiss. You pulled away. Little smears of your lipstick were obvious on his face. You wiped it off of him with your thumb. Hitoshi had a face so red, you knew what had happened. You glanced down at his pants. "Hitoshi, did you already cum? I hardly even touched you!" He looked away in embarrassment. "Well, you just looked so pretty and everything happened so suddenly."

He tried covering his face, but you pulled down his pants and boxers. "You're doing this for me, aren't you? So you should have waited until I let you cum. I would have gladly let you do it inside of me," you whispered. You straightened his still hard dick, running your fingers up and down it's length, smearing his cum all over. He was average in length, but had a wide girth. You gave kitten licks to the tip and under the head, right where the bundle of nerves are. He smelled delicious. Slowly, you took him into your mouth. He held one of his hands in your hair, lightly pulling in it as you sucked him off. He used his other hand to gently pull on your collar.

Feeling a slight touch at your butt, you almost turned around, but you were too busy. You had all but forgotten about Aizawa with what you were doing to Hitoshi. He smoothly tugged your skirt off, and you crossed your legs. "Come on now, kitty. Why are you hiding from me?" Hitoshi pushed you down deeper onto him, almost having you gag. "Y/N your mouth feels so good wrapped around me," he said. Your heat warmed up with his words. You used your tongue against him, pushing it to the side of your mouth. Aizawa uncrossed your legs and tenderly pulled your leggings off, leaving you with only your panties on your lower half. He gently teased you with his fingers running along your folds. He slipped a finger under them, your juices gathering on his fingers. "Wet for me, my kitten? I could just stick myself into you without preparing you." You let out a moan in response, vibrating on Hitoshi. He gripped you harder. "Kitty..." he said, his eyes rolling to the back of his head in pleasure. You let out a cry as Aizawa penetrated your pussy, muffled because Hitoshi was balls deep in your mouth, but still audible. He had not even taken the time to remove your underwear, so you were unprepared. You adjusted as his length came down inside of you. After a couple months without sex, it felt so good to finally have something filling you up.

It seemed to go on forever. He was long. Once he was finally all in, or you guessed he was, he stopped moving, as if content to just be in you. You continued with Hitoshi as Aizawa's hands roamed your body, groping your ass and pulling and pinching on your curves. He pulled your bra up and fondled your breasts again, squeezing the nipples. You found yourself clenching around Aizawa and sucking in your breath for Hitoshi. "I'm close again, kitty," Hitoshi informed you, pulling out of your mouth. He backed away from you. You gasped for air, finally able to use your mouth to breathe. Behind you, Aizawa slowly thrusted up a few times, hitting the spot that made you claw the mat. "Sensei, please!" You clenched your fists around the material around you. "You like that kitten? You want me to fuck you better than Hitoshi can?" You nodded, unable to control yourself. He moved his hands away from your chest and to the floor so he had a better angle. "Hitoshi, the key to making a girl happy is giving her what she wants. If it's a little rough," he thrusted hard into you and you yelped, more in pleasure than pain, "...so be it." He started pounding you into the mat below "It's too much Aizawa!" You felt your walls squeezing around him as he continued his relenting attacks.

"You can take it, kitten, I know you can. Take it for me." He kept hitting that one spot that made your vision blur. Your boyfriend was in front of you. You wondered what Hitoshi was up to, but when he placed your hand on him you got to work, squeezing with Aizawa's thrusts. You moaned and squeezed Hitoshi, and he came into your hand. Still running your fingers against him, you felt a knot in your stomach. You had felt your own climax building up for a while now, and you saw white as you came hard onto Aizawa, and you felt yourself being filled up with his seed. When he was done, he pushed his fingers into you, pumping you a few times. Your juices leaked all over the mat, leaving a white stain. He got up to get some paper towels. You dizzily got to your feet, about to head to the bathroom to clean yourself up. He put a hand around your throat in a loose grip. A threat. "Where do you think you're going, kitty? You were supposed to be mine. I won't let you forget that when we get home," he promised. "Or maybe now. Do I need to teach you a lesson?" Your body ached at the thought of more, knowing that you would hurt for quite a long time after.

He spread your legs apart, and buried his tongue into you. You tugged on his hair as he did, lapping up the juices. "I think it was unfair that Hitoshi got to cum two times. I think you need to come back here sometime again so we can have a rematch," Aizawa said, fully clothed again as he came back and gathered in the scene. "Young people," he sighed dramatically, cleaning up the dribbles here and there. You were too busy feeling Hitoshi's tongue squeezing inside you to notice Aizawa gently brushing through your hair and tail fur with his brush. He wanted you as much as you had wanted him.

Slightly inspired by Cat Girls Are Ruining My Life by Corpse Husband

#Bnha #bnhaxreader #smut #anime #animexreader #anime x reader #bnha x reader #hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #aizawa #shota aizawa

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katelyn--renee · 4 years ago

Text

Jealous Heart

Title: Jealous Heart

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Characters: Alex Karev, Reader, Meredith Grey, Christina Yang, Izzy Stevens, George O’Malley, Malcolm Ramsay (OC)

Pairing: Alex x Reader

Words: ± 1600

Description: Alex’s jealousy leads to something interesting.

Created for @anyfandomgoesbingo Square Filled: Jealousy

Rating: Rated M for Mature.

Warnings: Nothing really; maybe a bit of fluff. A bit of bullying/teasing. Author’s Note: There is no beta and this is my first Grey’s Anatomy fic. I hope you enjoy! Please comment your thoughts and share the love! Your feedback gives me life! :)

A shout out to @writeyourmindaway for the amazing dividers! Thank you!

Interested in more of my work, check out the link below.

Masterlist

“Careful, Evil Spawn, your jealousy is showing. People might actually think you’re human.” Christina Yang taunted, teasing her colleague and tossing a piece of popcorn toward him. It hit Alex in the arm and dropped to the floor beside the wheelchair he occupied. He glared at the assaulting food as the other interns snickered and smirked, their laughter filling the empty hallway.

Karev scoffed and rolled his eyes at them, sneering at Yang. “Yeah. Whatever.” He grumbled, gripping the handles of the wheel chair a little tighter, and swiftly turning away from the other interns. He heard them muttering and giggling behind his back, and so he turned back, face red with annoyance. “I just - I don’t get it, what does that guy have, that I don’t?” He argued, gesturing wildly behind him toward the entrance of their hideaway. “The dude is a tool!”

The four other interns exchanged thoughtful looks, very much enjoying their antics. “Good hair,” Izzy chimed in first with a shrug, stating the fact as if it should have been obvious. She smacked George in the arm, who nodded in agreement, “Great hair, actually. Like, it’s always just so perfectly, well-groomed…” Izzy made a few hand motions for added effect, touching her own head of blonde hair. She made a few more side comments about his rugged good looks and broad shoulders.

“Talented hands.” Meredith added to the list, but then quickly corrected herself before anyone got the wrong idea. “He’s a world-class surgeon.” She shrugged, glancing at Alex who shook his head, feeling betrayed. He scoffed again.

“A heart.” Christina stated bluntly, stealing a laugh from Meredith who shook her head and instantly tried to hide her smile for Alex’s sake. “A soul. Decent human emotions.” She continued, the laughter bubbling up again around them.

Alex had heard enough and he stood up, “Screw you guys.” He grumbled, storming off in the opposite direction. This only made Christina laugh even more, mocking him with a pouty lip and fake teary eyes.

“I’m sure he doesn’t give people syphilis either!” George called out after Alex, who replied with a few choice words of his own, flashing him the finger over his shoulder.

He couldn’t believe them. They were supposed to be his friends! They were supposed to be on his side and agree with him, not make him feel worse about the whole situation. But maybe they were right? What chance did a guy like him have against a guy like that?

As if the universe were mocking him, a portrait of Dr. Perfect stared down at him at the end of the hall. He sneered at it before turning down the next hall, heading for the lobby at the front of the hospital.

He paused at the main nurses station, collecting a patient’s chart in an attempt to distract himself with work. He looked over the information and tried to make sense of the numbers in front of him. But, no matter how hard he tried to focus, it did little to ease his racing mind and jealous heart.

With a huff of annoyance, he closed the chart and put it back into the slot, clenching his jaw. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to force away his frustrations. He scratched at the stubble accompanying his jawline. What the hell was he doing? He shook his head, annoyed and angry with himself.

A familiar, adorable giggle reached his ears and seized his heart; it was a sound he’d recognize anywhere. He followed the beautiful sound and glanced in the direction of the grand staircase, spotting (Y/N) standing near the bottom of the steps with none other than the tool himself, Dr. Malcolm Ramsay; Dr. Perfect.

Alex watched their exchange from afar and his lip curled with anger as the jealousy bubbled up inside of his chest, making his blood boil. It coiled and twisted inside of his stomach, making him feel sick. She looked so excited and bubbly and happy and it pissed him off knowing that it wasn’t him who made her feel that way. How could he?

He watched with disdain as the man touched her arm, affectionately squeezing it. She giggled and scrunched her nose up, making it crinkle cutely. Alex clenched his hands into fists at his sides, his jaw set. He had to look away, his stomach - and heart - couldn’t bear to watch anymore.

Leaving the nurses station, he rounded the next corner and paused, making a decision. He couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to know; for his own sanity, he needed to know why she felt the way that she did and why it had to be him.

He waited impatiently for her, pacing the small section of hallway and earning himself a few odd looks from nurses and passing doctors. He would turn expectantly at every passing set of footsteps, only being met with disappointment. One particular set of footsteps caught his ear and when he turned to confront them, he was met with the (Y/E/C) that he adored so much.

Grabbing her by the arm gently, yet firmly, he tugged her into a nearby supply closet and shut the door with a loud bang. “Alex, what the hell?” (Y/N) gasped with a confused expression on her face. She rose a curious brow at the other intern, his back still to her. “Alex, what’s going on?” She asked again, hesitant to know the answer. Something was wrong.

“(Y/N) we need to talk.” Alex finally spoke, his voice agitated and a bit shaky. He turned to face her then, his expression hard and serious. He had his hands on his hips and his breathing was erratic, his chest rising and falling quickly, but he said nothing else.

(Y/N) made an impatient face as the silence built between them and she folded her arms under her breasts, sighing “Okay?” She questioned, dragging out the word with annoyance, “Alex, you’re being weird. What the hell is going on?” She asked with a huff, her lips pressed into a solid line. “Look, Alex, I’ve got work to do. Bailey is going to kill me if I don’t get these charts finished. Spit it out.”

His stomach was in knots, doing cartwheels in his abdomen. His tongue felt like concrete in his mouth, too heavy to move. Fuck. Man up! Talk to her! “Why do you like him?” Alex blurted out suddenly, his brow pinched together and his eyes stern.

(Y/N) frowned heavily at him, “Excuse me?” She asked, confused and slightly offended by his assumption. “Like who, Alex? You’re not making any sense.” She rolled her eyes at the man.

“Don’t act like you don’t know. I saw how cozy you just were with him, giggling and doing that nose scrunch thing you do.” He stated, gesturing to her nose and face, clearly upset.

“What?” (Y/N) scoffed at him and shook her head, her (Y/H/C) swaying with the motion. “You’re being ridiculous.” She muttered and moved to step past him, but he stepped in her path. “Alex.” She huffed, annoyed by his antics.

“Answer the question; why do you like that tool? I need to know.” Alex insisted, his eyes searching hers for an answer.

“Alex, move.” (Y/N) tried again, but Alex kept his stance firm and planted his feet. It became very apparent to her Alex wasn’t about to let this go any time soon. She looked away from him, her tongue making an annoyed clicking sound in her mouth before she huffed, giving in. “He’s not the one I like, Alex.” She admitted, forcing herself to look into his eyes.

Alex frowned at that, his confusion only growing stronger. “W-what, who then?” He asked, his tone not as harsh as before. He crossed his arms, trying to rack his brain and figure out who this mystery guy is. His face was scrunched and pinched between his brows, straining.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, her expression softening a fraction. She studied his face, her eyes wandering over his handsome features and eyes full of so much emotion. “Do you really not know, dummy?” She stated, the softness of her voice catching his attention. There was another drawn out pause. “Do I have to spell it out for you?” She smiled a little at him, raising her brows in an attempt to silently fill in the blanks for him.

Everything began to click into place and his face began to relax at the realization. Alex swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat with her confession, his eyes falling to her lips briefly before meeting her eyes. A hint of a smile hitched up the corner of his mouth before he closed the distance between them, his hands cupping her face. Their lips met, hard and desperate to taste each other. They’d been dreaming of this day, the pair of them dancing around their feelings for months and now… now it was actually happening.

Alex’s heart was racing inside of his chest, pounding so hard he thought it would burst from his chest and flop onto the floor. He had to break away, but didn’t go far, their foreheads still pressed together. He smiled and laughed softly, sounding a bit breathless. Her hands were on his chest and he wondered if she could feel his heart pounding there. He rubbed her cheeks with his thumbs, his fingers cradling the back of his neck.

“Does that answer your question, dummy?” She muttered and laughed softly, her lips connecting with his again in an affectionate peck. After a moment, she laughed again, “Wait, were you really jealous of Dr. Ramsey?” She questioned, teasing him with a raised brow.

Alex rolled his eyes playfully, “Shut up.” He replied, silencing her giggles with another kiss.

Thanks for reading!!

#grey's anatomy #anyfandomgoes #anyfandomgoes2020 #jealous #jealousy #alex karev #alex x reader #interns #grey's anatomy fic #grey's anatomy fanfic #grey's #fanfiction #fanfic

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localswordlesbian · 4 years ago

Text

rose-coloured boy

The Lonely left it's mark on Martin, with his formerly dark brown hair going a stark white the moment the fog touched him. Whenever he sees his reflection in the mirror, he sees the man who became the victim of a fear that nearly swallowed him whole. So he decides that a bottle of pink hair dye is the way to go.

(or: a bunch of friends were sending art of pink haired martin on discord and I was inspired, thank you to @bagginshield and @m-e-w-666 for encouraging me to write this <3)

read it on ao3 or below the cut

Martin was beginning to wonder whether he’d fucked up.

He watched as the water vanished down the drain before his eyes, tinged ever so slightly pink as it ran freely from his head and into the sink. Hunched over the cold ceramic, Martin listened to the music he’d set to play from the speakers to occupy his mind while he waited for the water to run clear, a process which was taking an almost infuriatingly long time. Despite the music, his mind was spinning – he couldn’t remember what, exactly, had spurred him to dye his hair. His walk to the convenience store down the road had almost disappeared from his memory, as though he’d done it in a daze, and he hadn’t hesitated before pulling the plastic gloves onto his hands and squeezing the light pink goop from the bottle onto his head.

Half an hour of sitting on the cold bathroom floor, paired with being hunched over the sink which was too short for someone of Martin’s height, was beginning to cause his muscles to tighten and his bones to ache. Eventually, the water spilling over his head finally ran clear and Martin straightened, his spine popping as his unruly curls flung water all over the bathroom. Sighing as he grabbed a towel and began to dry off his hair, Martin stretched. He kept his eyes away from the mirror – he knew this had been his decision, but a deep-seated fear squirmed through his gut at the thought of seeing his own reflection; what if he hated it? What if he regretted it immediately and had no way of getting the dye out?

He shook his head. Spiralling into a panic over nothing wasn’t going to help, he tried to tell himself. Towel still wrapped around his hair, he left the bathroom and stepped onto the cold tile of his kitchen.

Tea would calm him down, he reasoned. Tea usually calmed him down. Martin got the kettle, two teabags, and two mugs, and got to work – it was a calming process, and that combined with the music still spilling from the living room was enough to distract him from his panic about his hair.

As he was seeping the tea in the boiling water, he heard the distinct sound of the front door unlocking and someone coming inside. A smile pulled at Martin’s cheeks as he saw a familiar figure enter the kitchen.

“Welcome back,”

Jon smiled at him, his tired expression lifted as his eyes met Martin’s. “Thank you. Perfect timing,” he noted, gesturing to the tea.

Martin laughed, and the sound seemed to make Jon smile wider. “Yeah, it is.”

The two stood in amicable silence while Martin finished making and pouring the tea, handing Jon his mug. His scarred hand wrapped around Martin’s as he accepted the tea, giving his boyfriend’s hand a squeeze. They stood in the kitchen as they sipped their drinks, music continuing to pour in a continuous stream of company as they enjoyed each others’.

“Is that a new fashion accessory or something?”

Martin looked up suddenly. “What?”

Jon gestured to his head. “The towel. I wouldn’t normally point it out, but you never wear a towel on your head when you shower, so…”

Martin smiled softly – the fact that Jon knew that about him was still a little pleasant surprise sometimes. “Oh, uh. Yeah. Well..” Jon tilted his head sideways, waiting for Martin to continue. Sighing, Martin grabbed the towel with one hand and yanked it off his head. “It was sort of an… impulsive decision,” he explained.

Jon seemed to study him for a moment before setting his mug down and walking over to stand in front of Martin. Reaching up, he hesitated before making content, and at Martin’s nod he took a strand between his fingers. Martin could see that the colour was very pale, an almost pastel pink, just dark enough to be noticeable but not so much so that it would call attention. Jon gave a soft smile. “I think it looks lovely,” he murmured. “Why the sudden impulse, though?”

Martin finally let himself consider that question, the question he hadn’t let himself think about since he made the decision to venture out to the store to buy the dye in the first place. He thought about all he and Jon had been through the past few years, the horrendous traumas they’d both faced – the degradation of both of their psyches at the hands of their power hungry immortal boss. Jon’s scars were a constant reminder of the avatars who had wanted them dead simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and after the Lonely–

“I suppose I didn’t want to be reminded of it anymore.” Jon tipped his head sideways, urging Martin to continue. “Every time I looked in the mirror, I could see it – the fog, the blurry horizon hardly even there, the vague silhouettes of people who were just as alone as I was. And it’s not like I could justify it with “going grey young;” it was white, Jon. There was no– no compartmentalizing it anymore. And I just couldn’t bear it.”

A beat passed, then Jon reached up and brushed the pad of his thumb across Martin’s cheek – Martin hadn’t even realized he’d been crying. He wordlessly took Martin’s hands and led him over to the couch – Martin sank gratefully into the cushions, suddenly exhausted. He felt weary down to his bones, as though a film of grey had settled over his vision and made his brain all fuzzy and spaced out. Jon said nothing, simply held Martin’s hands in his, running his thumb over the knuckles in a soothing back and forth motion.

“I don’t know how long I’ll have to wait until I– until I forget,” he confessed in a broken whisper.

Jon let out a dry, humourless laugh. “Love, I don’t think either of us will ever forget what we went through.” He squeezed Martin’s hands. “Though, that’s not to say we’ll never move past it.”

Martin nodded. “I feel like I’m giving in.”

“To what?”

“I don’t know, the fear? Peter Lukas and the Lonely? Heroes are always supposed to rock their scars, hell even you live with constant reminders of what you went through painted on your body, but I can’t even look at myself without feeling… cold. Cold and lonely and abandoned.”

Jon lifted one of Martin’s hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to the knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

Martin shook his head. “Jon. It’s not your fault. None of it was, or is.”

Jon nodded. “I know, I–” he broke off, squeezing Martin’s hands again. “I can’t promise that it will get better. The nightmares, the memories, the… the habits. But I can promise I’ll never abandon you ever again. I never want you to feel like you’re alone, not as long as I’m with you.”

“You didn’t abandon me the first time. I chose to work for Lukas, I chose to sacrifice myself. That wasn’t your fault.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“So are you!”

Jon laughed. “I suppose you’re right. My point is, I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone. I’ll always be by your side, no matter what. No matter the colour of your hair,” he added fondly, lifting one hand to thread it through Martin’s curls. Martin leaned into the touch, taking comfort in the simplicity of this moment – sat on the couch, with tea that had gone cold, two broken people desperately trying to figure out how to simply be in a world that had taken so much from them.

Jon leaned closer, tilting his head in a silent invitation, one which Martin accepted by pressing their lips together – it was a soft kiss, a gentle one, a reminder that not all was lost, that despite it all they still had each other. Jon’s hand threaded through Martin’s hair, and Martin savoured every sensation as he cupped Jon’s cheek and felt the stubble scrape his palm. This was what had been missing in the Lonely – the feeling of touch, of direct contact with another person without feeling as though there was a layer of something between him and anyone or anything around him. But here, in this tiny flat, he was present in this very moment, present for the feeling of his boyfriend’s lips moving against his, a reminder that right now he wasn’t alone. No matter the colour of his hair or the nights where he’d wake up in a cold sweat after a dream where he’d been drowning in fog, his lungs full of cold, wet smoke and his eyes unseeing, Jon would be there.

Jon hummed against his lips, and Martin pulled away. “What?”

His boyfriend has a small smile on his face. “I just realized something,” he said. “You’re a real rose-coloured boy.”

Martin barked a laugh. “Really? That’s your great realization?”

Jon pouted. “I thought it was cute.”

Martin chuckled, brushing his lips over Jon’s again and pulling away before he could press closer. Jon let out a petulant growl, and Martin grinned. “You’re cute.”

“Am not!”

“Yes you are, don’t deny it.”

“If I agree, can I kiss you again?” Martin nodded. “Fine, then I’m adorable.”

Still grinning, Martin brought his lips to Jon’s again, and they stayed on that couch for a good long while.

After this, they’d go about their regular days. Martin still didn’t know whether he’d be able to bear his own reflection, now that his hair was no longer the stark white it had turned after the Lonely. He knew that this wouldn’t keep the nightmares at bay, the terrifying dreams of losing Jon to a fog so thick he could hardly move through it, of losing himself piece by piece as everyone walked by, of being forgotten and discarded as though he’d never mattered. He knew this wouldn’t solve anything long term.

Maybe that was okay. Maybe this was the first step.

That night, Martin looked up from the sink and beheld the pink curls on top of his head for the first time. He held his reflection’s stare, as if challenging it to go after him. The memories weren’t gone, but the telltale twist of a corkscrew of panic driving its way into his chest was, for once, absent. He simply felt… normal.

What normal was, Martin could only hope it wouldn’t remain that way forever. Jon was right – he’d never forget, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t heal, piece by piece, bit by bit, never alone again.

Perhaps that was enough.

#tma #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fic #tma fic #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #alternate ending #nobody dies #fix-it #fics have become serotonin let me live #angst with a happy ending #this is getting me through the semester #eboy martin #pink haired martin #i'd like to give him one hug #jonny sims do not interact

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the-wintershade · 4 years ago

Text

trust me (always)

pairing: sam wilson x f!reader summary: it’s hard for you to trust anyone, especially people you get close to. you and Sam share a bond, a trust on the battlefield, but the Sam you see when you get back is different. however, things are changing and maybe the two Sam’s aren’t so different after all. wc: 3.4k+ genre: a little angst, some fluff, confusion, protectiveness, reader can’t see things as clearly as Stephen Strange, that’s for sure.

He held you as if you were something ancient, endowed with power but still delicate enough to require a special touch, a touch that recognized the silent strength within its bones.

It was reassuring.

You clutched onto him that much tighter despite the blood racing against your hand. You would have been more concerned if it weren’t for the fact that you were miles above the ground grasping against his chest for dear life.

Your legs tensed against his waist as you buried your head further against his neck. One of his arms stayed securely wrapped around you as he glided through the clouds, navigating through the smoke and clouds, wrapping the two of you in an invisible mist.

“Hey,” He breathlessly whispered against your cheek. “You good?”

You nodded, keeping your eyes squeezed tight.

A fear of heights never made any of this any better for you. You could barely accept the idea that you were up as high as you are.

Sam grunted a bit as he pushed both of you faster through the atmosphere. His suit whined a little in the strain of having only one wing to guide you but still held firm. Tony knew what he was doing with the upgrades.

“I’ve got you.” The words felt reassuring, but you didn’t bother to drop your death grip on his neck. “I’ve got you. I’m not letting you go.”

You weren’t sure who he was trying to assuage more: you or him.

You cracked your eyes open for a second, just as he swerved slightly to avoid a heavy pocket of air, and saw the swirls of white and grey. Adrenaline shot through you, fresh and hot, but you kept your muscles locked. You wouldn’t squeeze him to suffocation, not up here where there’s nothing to catch you if you fell.

You squoze your eyes shut again, waiting till seconds felt like hours.

“We’re here.” He abruptly pulled up before gently lowering you two to the ground. He kept you tucked against his body, kneeling on the hard earth as his other arm circled around you.

For a second, for just a moment, you were pressed so tight in his embrace that you were sure that his fear of losing you was just as real as your fear of having to let him go.

Then the moment was over and he was crumbling into fits of laughter, his default face of charms and smiles came back. Good old Sam.

Just like before, like basic training and initiation, running side missions with Sam and Bucky, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. He was always your guy, always there to get you if something went wrong, always coming to your aide if you called him, he was always around. Always smiling, always teasing.

And he knew you had him to.

If he needed anything, recon, an infiltration team, a scout or just a man on the inside, you were there. You were good.

And that’s why, even when everything was falling apart around you, you waited, you closed your eyes, and you trusted him to catch you as you jumped out of the building.

There he was. Just like always.

“That was insane.” His teeth shinned at you, dazzling you into silence just like so many times before. He watched your face freeze, distracted in nostalgia, and his own brightness dimmed slightly, his teeth receding like the slow crawl of the tide working its way back into the ocean. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He stood up and you slowly unwrapped your arms from around him, finally noticing the vermillion streaking down your forearm.

You felt Sam tense for just a moment, his gleeful mask dissolving for just a second, before leading your charge inside the building. He moved fast despite the fact that you only landed seconds ago.

You, on the other hand, felt disoriented, and stumbled your way forward. It wasn’t the blood loss, or the dizziness from flight. It was something much deeper. Something that had everything to do with him.

Everything to do with the feelings that never went away but you always ignored.

You tried to brush aside the sucking void that appeared in your chest at the easy dismissal of his previous display, but it kept pulling at you, making you feel hollow in the middle.

It hurt. But you don’t need to admit that.

Just keep it in. Just keep it all contained until this is all over and then your void can devour anything it wants.

He led you through all the twists and turns before coming to stop at the medbay. Dr. Strange was in your path almost immediately after Sam hit the button. He’d been on special call for anyone hurt within the facility.

Plus, you and the doctor had become good friends over the years. He taught you basic first aid and you were able to teach him about philosophy, ways to help him see the world and better himself.

It was an exchange of information, but not deceitful, not in exchange for money or for self-gain. It was equal and the company was always nice.

“Hello, (name).” Good to see you again,” He softly smiled in your direction. You forced your eyes to crinkle with the same amount of enthusiasm.

“Always a pleasure, Dr. Strange.” Your voice was calm, lovely even, as you responded. It betrayed none of the subtle agony you felt, nor the pain at the throbbing in your arm. It made your confidence strengthen and the void die down just a little.

He stepped over to you slowly, reaching out to take a look at your arm. “Debris in the arm?”

“Sam managed to pull me out before the building collapsed.” You spared a cautious glance in his direction, careful to manage the sucking pull of his eyes and the void within you. His stare was dark and...upset (out of character for him), before it immediately became ambivalent, balancing on the edge of nonchalance and subtle amusement.

It would have given you whiplash if you hadn’t been trying to keep your face as neutral as possible.

“Lucky girl,” Stephen smirked at you while gently tugging on your arm and pulling you along into the examination room. He looked past you, right to Sam.“I’ll take good care of her, promise.”

Your heart lept for a second.

Stephan looked down at you and winked before glancing back at Sam. “Do what you have to do. I gotta get back anyway.” His voice sounded cheerful, but the develivry of the response held something deeper, something more hidden and protective. He paused for a moment and the silence made you turn in his direction. His gaze was warm and gentle, but if you closely, just beyond it, there was a wall of steel. “I’ll be back.”

You heard his receding footsteps before Stephen closed the door.

“What was that about?” You sat up on the table as Stephen began examining your arm, working around the blood and dirt.

He scoffed. “We’ve talked about this before, (name).” He poured alcohol over your wound and a hiss left your mouth involuntarily. He pressed a towel against the exposed skin and waited for the bubbling to stop before moving on. “He would have stayed here if I hadn’t said you were okay.”

Why?

You were talking about the same Sam, weren’t you? The Sam who was a massive flirt, who couldn’t be tied down to anyone? Sam, who was always so carefree and flirty, who didn’t have to time for anyone else in his life? That Sam?

Or the other Sam? Reliable Sam. Dependable Sam. The Sam who always had your back.

Because that Sam only existed during battle, when everything was going left and the trust you needed to put in each other was stronger than his need to be witty.

But the Sam that came back was always different. It always stung a little. The Sam you came back with would go out and forget about you.

And you couldn’t forget about him.

The void grew bigger.

“We can’t be talking about the same person.” Your tone was grounded in defeat. You’d already fought this battle with yourself, you knew what your decision was.

“Oh,” He grinned. “But we are.”

You shook your head. “You got this all wrong. He doesn’t care that much. He saved me, that’s his job after all. That’s what we do during missions, that’s who we are. When we get back it’s always different.”

“If he was just saving you, why do you think he brought you here?” Stephan’s hands were fast as he wrapped up your arm. You’d been so distracted talking about Sam that you hadn’t noticed when he’d removed the glass from your arm. “He would have put you on the street if you were just another citizen, if it were just another mission.”

“Right,” You rolled your eyes before Stephen set your arm down. “Like that actually means anything. I’m an agent; it’s only right that I’m here.” Everyone was pretty much gone anyway. It makes sense he brought you here.

“Oh?” He smirked as he turned to put the supplies away. “You and Sam were pretty close when he brought you in. Almost glued to the hip.” The first aid kit shut with a loud click. The next sentence makes you question if he’s been watching your interactions properly. He’s done it before, “for research” he claims. “He watches you a lot. If he’s not physically close to you, his staring more than makes up for it.”

“Dr., don’t say all of this to make me feel better. I know when I’m not really wanted. He’s just being good ol’ Sam. It doesn’t really mean anything.”

“Are you saying this because you truly don’t believe that he cares or that you don’t think that anyone could possibly care about you like this?” His stare is deep and hard. He’s not upset necessarily, but he’s frustrated and you know better than to lie to him.

“To be honest,” you sigh and massage your fingers, aching from holding onto Sam’s suit, aching from not being able to hold onto him. “I’m not sure anymore.”

And if your sad eyes gives him any pause, Stephen pushes through it. He comes over and squeezes your hand.

“Listen kid, lord knows that I’m not good at any of this stuff.” He places the back of his hand against your cheek, a soft tap of affection. “But I do know that you deserve to be happy. Allow yourself that much.”

Your throat hurts from trying to push back the heartbreaking agony in his words, but you manage to nod, touching his hand gently in return.

The void still threatens to suck you in, but it doesn’t feel as indomitable as it did before.

…

“Where’d you go?” Bucky grunts through the radio as he knocks out his assailant, watching Sam come gliding down out of the sky.

“I had to grab someone.” He mentions in passing as he sets down on the ground. He pulls out his own gun and puts down a few more guards.

He catches Bucky’s smirk from out of the corner of his eye. His own gaze darkens and he’s unable to check the deep warning in his tone before the words come out. “Don’t say anything.”

“Wasn’t going to, flighty.”

“Call me flighty one more time and I’ll throw you off the bridge.”

He chuckles before swinging around Sam’s side and shooting another enemy with their gun aimed at Sam.

Sam pauses for a second, shooting two quick glances over in Bucky’s direction.

“Thank me later.” Bucky smirked at him with a spark and charm that Sam would have usually given him. Sam clamps his jaw down to avoid saying anything. “I’m sure a special someone would appreciate it.”

“When we get through this, remind me to never give you rides anywhere ever again.”

“Oh no,” he said in fake seriousness. “Who am I gonna call now?”

“Shut up.” Sam said stiffly, thinking briefly to you and Stephen’s knowing assurance. How many people knew how he felt? He didn’t even know how he felt. He didn’t know why your call over the radio made him as nervous as he felt or why he’d abandoned Bucky suddenly.

He just knew he needed to get to you.

Just like all those times before. He needed to be there. He needed you to know that you could trust him, with anything. Just like the confidence and trust that you’d given him.

You hadn’t sounded frightened — no — you sounded reserved. And reserved scared him a lot more than frightened did.

And so he was there, just before you were sucked down into the collapsing building.

Now, he just wanted to get out of this so he could get back to you. Surprisingly, although the thought scared him more than he wanted to admit — it’d been a while since Sam was willing to really settle in one place — he just wanted to get out of the field for just a moment, just to know you were safe before he moved on.

Even then, moving on wasn’t going to be easy. He didn’t let himself think hard about that.

Sam shook his head slightly before getting back into focus. He still had a job to do.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, harrowing with laser focus as a plan formulated in his mind. “I’m pushing that building, there’s still people inside. Can you keep the sky clear? I really don’t want to be hit by shells while I’m moving people.”

“On it.” Sam jetted off into the sky, eyes peeled, ready to shoot down anything that would stand in the way.

…

Sam tried to keep his pace at a normal speed, but failed.

Bucky noticed.

They exited the quinjet back at base and Bucky picked up his pace to match Sam’s quicker clip. “I’ll debrief. You do what you need to do.”

Sam didn’t really care what he said.

Bucky knew better than to demand a response. He was always like this when it came to you.

Sam made it to the medbay and he paused for a moment, expecting you to be there resting at least. When you were nowhere to be found, Sam swallowed down his rising anxiety.

He moved around the corner, looking for someone around to ask where you’d gone. When he’d seen the red cape, he knew he’d found exactly who he was looking for.

“Sam,” He greeted, sitting and pouring over a text. “I trust that everything went well.”

“Something like that.” He compromised in response. “Where’d (name) go? Is she alright?”

Stephen nodded absentmindedly. “She’s fine, just needed a few stitches and a bandage. The last time I talked to her, she went out.”

“Out?” Sam worked to school his face into a neutral state despite the rising anxiety bubbling up in his core. He wasn’t overjoyed at the idea of you going out by yourself, especially after just sustaining an injury. “Where?”

“I’m not sure, Sam. But I assure you, she’s more than capable of taking care of herself. She just probably needs a break. Thinking you might die in a crumbling building isn’t something you just bounce back from.” Sam processed the information and slowed down, searching for an answer, a rational explanation of going after you.

Dr. Strange sighed before giving up this as a solution. “I’d wait. She’ll be back soon.”

Sam nodded, unable to come up with anything that would vindicate him from further suspicion. But just like how he’d almost promised you that he’d return, he’d be patient until you came back.

“Shawarma?” Stephen held out a paper towel. Sam looked cautiously, not sure if he really trusted what he was offering. He looked at him with a guarded expression before removing a glove and grabbing it out of his hand.

“Thanks,” Sam said, still in the middle of deciding whether he should eat it or not. “I guess.”

…

You waltzed back to the compound at the call of Stephen who rang you while you were out getting coffee. He’d sounded amused despite the seriousness of his words.

You didn’t bother rushing back to the office.

Whatever Stephen had going on, he could wait another thirty minutes as you made the walk back up the forested street back to the compound. Your wrap served as a constant marker of what happened, how your life was almost ripped from your clutches. You tried to ignore it now, but the white of the wrap consistently caught your attention.

You huffed in frustration as you worked back to the medbay. What in the world could be wrong now? You didn’t really want to relive the experience of nearly crying in his examination room.

You needed time to absorb it all.

“Stephen, what’s going on?”

You came to a stop behind his chair. Stephen only turned slightly to look at you. “Sam’s waiting for you.”

“Sam?” You scoffed and sipped your coffee. “Like he’d come looking for me. He’s got a debrief, not to mention plenty of other things to do in the meantime.”

“Well, he came here looking for you. Thought you might want to know.”

Disappointingly, you did kind of want to know. You pretended to be annoyed, asking F.R.I.D.A.Y his location in the driest voice you could possibly muster.

When she directed you to his rooms, you pushed down the jolt of surprise and kept your expression neutral as you turned out the examination room and down the hallway.

…

“Sam?” You knocked gently on the door, the anxiousness you felt earlier steadily rising as you waited outside. Maybe coffee wasn’t the smartest idea. “It’s (name). Stephen said you were looking for me.”

You took a few deep breaths, nearly resting your forehead against the door. Your nerves were jittering now, climbing to a fever pitch.

When Sam swung the door open, you nearly fell straight into him. You straightened as quickly as you could, clearing your throat and swallowing abruptly.

“Hi.” You said, meeker than usual.

Sam’s eyes glowed for a second before he found his usual charm, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. “Greetings.” You almost swore his voice was deeper than usual.

You looked at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation. He just stared back.

You sighed, dropping your head and turning slightly away. This was stupid. “Well, he said you asked for me, but, if you don’t have anything to say, I’ll go.”

“Wait.” He reached out to you for a second before inching his hand slowly backward. “How’s your arm.”

“Fine.” You responded. It was throbbing more than before, but you figured the pain would linger for some time, despite the pain meds. “It should be a little while before I can take it off though.”

Sam nodded. “Good.”

You both stood in a tense silence again, just staring at each other for a moment.

“Okay, well, if that’s all…” You took a couple steps away from him, moving down the hall.

“(name)?”

You turned slowly, sparing a small smile in his direction. “Yes, Sam?”

“If, perhaps,” He tilted his head with a smirk. “I knew this place downtown….”

Your heart leaped into a gallop.

“And I asked you to join me, would you say yes?” His eyes did the soft twinkly thing and your heart melted.

Maybe this wasn’t such a stupid idea.

Maybe your Sam, that Sam that was always there in battle, didn’t actually disappear when you came home.

“Maybe…” You drawled out, slowly stepping closer to him until you’d slipped your hands into his, feeling his warmth stabilize yours. Maybe the good doctor was right. You deserved this, you deserved happiness. And if Sam was willing to take that chance on you, just another agent, then why not take a chance on him. “Depends on how you ask.”

Sam grinned for a moment. “(name), will you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner tomorrow evening?”

You hid a smile before leaning up to kiss him on the cheek, staying by his shoulder while your arms wrapped around him in a hug. Sam’s arms pulled you close, holding on tightly.

It felt like you were flying, but not anything else like your first experience in the air. You weren’t afraid now like you were then. You felt safe, calm, like you were in control.

You were soaring on something much stronger than air. Hope.

“I’d love to, Sam.”

He grasped you tighter as he picked you up and spun you around, your laughs joining together in bliss. And when he set you down, his eyes sparkled like a thousand suns and for the first time in a while, you were ready to let yourself fall.

Because this Sam, your Sam would catch you. Always.

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xpao-bearx · 4 years ago

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Part 1 HERE

NOTE: OMG I really wasn't expecting for the previous first part of Heavenly Sins to blow up as it did, but I just wanted to give a huuuge THANK YOU to all of you amazing folks!! 🥰🥰🥰 Your support truly means so fooken much to trashy ol' meh and y'all are the reason I am writing this story series in the first place :')

I do have my ideas, but I still don't know much yet of what to do or even how long (or short) this story will get. So, if you would continue to give me your mindblowing support, it would seriously mean the W O R L D.

I do, however, very much enjoy writing Negan in particular so far. He's one of my absolute fave characters ever and JEFFREY DEAN FUCKIN' MORGAN NEED I SAY MOAR?!? 🥵💕💕

But this second part will be focusing a bit more on our beloved sheriff Ricky boi! Of course, Daryl will also get some much deserved love and attention tho I think he will appear in the story a lil later on.

Also, if you ever feel compelled, you are more than welcome to take some inspo from this story and make your own imagines and such! I'd love to see 'em, so please tag me 😁

P.S. There won't always be long ass notes like this, only if I wanna say something or bring up whatever is important. Also, if you wanna be tagged on any new/future story parts, then just tell moi and I will dedicate the latest one to the people who wanted to be tagged!

DEDICATED TO: The wonderful @buttercandy16 💖

"Heavenly Sins"

Part 2

After your little spiel, you haven't spoken to Negan since then. But on the way home after church, you passed by his house and found him tinkering away on his motorcycle (which you previously learned he interestingly named Lucille) in the garage. Not being able to help yourself, you paused in your tracks and just curiously watched him for a while.

His leather jacket was off, revealing a plain white t-shirt. The shirt was quite tight, and you noted how it perfectly hugged the taut muscles of his chest. Your eyes then slowly trailed to his toned arms, adorned by tattoos you wished you had a better look at. He stopped briefly, placing his tools down before grabbing the hem of his shirt and wiping the sweat on his forehead.

You didn't even think twice as your eyes dropped, hyperfocused on his abs. He wasn't the buffest guy out there, but he was lean and fit and--to put it bluntly--hot. A part of you screamed bloody murder to get a grip on yourself, to just turn your stiff body around and proceed on home. But another part completely squashed down those protests without even a fight; as if your pathetic excuse of a resolve wasn't even meant in the first place.

"Take a goddamn picture, darlin'. It'll last longer."

Your head snapped up, meeting the tantalizing hazel stare of Negan. His lips were curled in a smug smirk, and nevermore in your entire life have you wanted to both slap and kiss someone so badly.

But you only clicked your tongue, shooting him a sharp glare before (at last!) turning and walking away as you hid your blush. In the distance, his amused chuckle begrudgingly sounded like the sweetest fucking music to your ears.

♡♡♡

You woke up at 7:05 a.m. like you typically did the next morning, Monday. It was the dawn of a new week, and while most people dreaded it you actually didn't mind it so much. You had your job to thank for that.

Sure, it wasn't always easy, but it was worth it in the end. You loved teaching and spending time with the children, and you were even more ecstatic since you knew Judith was going to be at the daycare.

As you finished eating breakfast and preparing for the day, you grabbed your bag then went out the door. You opted to walk again today, the weather far too beautiful to miss plus the daycare really wasn't that far away.

Eventually arriving at your destination, you approached the daycare building's doors with a little spring in your step. Once inside, a young woman with her blonde hair high in a ponytail smiled and waved.

"Hi, Y/N! Goodmorning!" Beth Greene greeted energetically.

"Morning, Beth." You chuckled, the girl's radiant smile infectious. You've known Beth for some time now, especially since the Greenes were one of the oldest families in Alexandria and they were well respected. But you got along best with Beth, you thought she was the friendliest and she was also the latest hire of the daycare.

Stashing your bag away in your personal locker, you fixed yourself up a bit before getting your nametag and sticking it on your top. Looking up at the wall clock, you read that it was 7:50 a.m. Perfect, just in time for the kids' drop-offs.

You waited outside with Beth and the rest of the daycare workers, until finally the parents started rolling in. It was the usual; some of the children were wailing, snot snivelling down their nose as their embarrassed parents tried to tug them away from clinging onto their legs. You could only offer a sympathetic smile as you tried to help, while other children were much more relaxed and didn't even spare a second glance at their parents as they were dropped off.

"Well, that's about all of them." Beth piped up.

"Wait, we're still waiting for Judith." You said, searching for the toddler. "Rick said she'd be here."

Beth checked her watch, her brows creasing a little in worry. "That's odd. Sheriff Grimes is never late when he's dropping Judith off."

Just as she said that, there was a honk that disrupted the peace. You and Beth both spotted a crying Judith being held by Lori, the woman appearing utterly exhausted before her eyes locked with yours and didn't waste another second dashing towards you.

"Please don't run when you're holding Judith. Also, no honking is allowed on the premises." It was hard for you to keep the malice out of your voice, but you mentally gave yourself a pat on the back since you miraculously managed to not make it sound the worst it could get.

Lori raised a brow at you, but only handed Judith over to you. Judith immediately quieted down when she saw it was you, you cooing gently at her as she giggled and snuggled up comfortably against your chest.

"Rick will be picking her up later." Was all Lori said, pressing a quick peck on Judith's curly little head before parting ways. As Lori rushed back to the car, you saw Shane in the driver's seat shamelessly attack her neck with fervent kisses and you couldn't restrain an eyeroll.

"Fucking bitch..." You grumbled.

"Uh-oh. Bad!" Judith giggled again, clapping her hands gleefully.

"Right, right. Bad. Don't copy me, okay?" You laughed, completely forgetting about your aggravation as you rubbed your nose with Judith's and went inside.

♡♡♡

The rest of the day rolled along splendidly. No one threw a tantrum and for the most part, all the kids properly shared the wide assortment of toys and even did their activities orderly and on time. So, you decided to indulge them with a small yet much sought after reward.

Painting.

When it comes down to children, painting can be utter chaos. But you figured since they were being so good, you'd allow it. At the daycare you worked in, painting was quite a rare occurrence and that only solidified how much the kids adored it.

Once the materials were set out, it was a dizzying flurry of excited hands grabbing anything it could latch on to. As the kids went about doing their creative business, you found Judith all alone sitting in the corner playing around with some blocks.

"Whatcha doin' there, Judi?" You asked, sweetly calling out her nickname. "You don't wanna paint?"

"I wanna, but not with papers." She replied, shaking her head.

"Oh? Then where do you wanna paint?"

"I wanna paint on faces, but no one wants me to!"

"If that's the case, then I'd be more than happy to let you paint my face." You smiled.

"Really?!" Judith's whole face lit up, jumping up and wrapping her tiny arms around you as tightly as she could. "Thank youuu!"

You chuckled, ruffling her hair and watching as she happily gathered some paint and brushes.

♡♡♡

It was finally the end of a long day, and your face felt a bit itchy from the paint Judith put on you. But it didn't matter; as long as the little girl was happy, it was the best damn day ever.

You were holding Judith's hand as you waited outside for Rick to pick her up, and once he came up with his car Judith beamed.

"Daddy!"

"Hello, sweetheart. Did you have a nice day?" His face looked tired, his greying beard making him appear slightly older than he really was, but his smile was genuine as he carried Judith in his strong arms.

"The bestest! Y/N lemme paint her face!"

"She did, huh? What did you pai--oh my god."

You bursted into laughter at his reaction, flashing him a toothy grin. "In the words of Judi: You're a pretty tiger! Grr!"

"Now that you mention it, I can see it." Rick joined in your laughter, nodding his head. "Looks like we've got a talented lil artist in our hands!"

"Daddy, I wanna paint your face next! You can be daddy tiger and Y/N can be mommy!" Judith proclaimed.

You and Rick flushed pink at the same exact time, but Rick was quick to clear his throat and change the topic. "A-Anyways, Y/N, how 'bout me and the kids give you a ride? Thank you for today, by the way."

"No problem, and sure! Thanks so much."

As you settled in the passenger's seat, two hands covered your eyes from behind. "Guess who~?"

"Hmm..." You hummed, making a show of thinking. "Are you an elf?"

"No!" The hands were removed, Carl popping his head out from the backseat to look at you as he laughed. "It's me!"

"Oh, sorry! You're just so short, I thought you were an elf." You teased good naturedly.

Carl huffed, sticking his tongue out at you. "Y'know, in a few years, I'll be way taller than you!"

Once Rick was done buckling Judith into her carseat, he took his place in the driver's seat and drove out of the premises. You just talked about anything that came to mind: work, the weather, Alexandria's local shops, etc. To anyone else, maybe it seemed like regular boring conversation. But speaking with Rick was truly one of the highlights of any of your days. He was extremely easy to talk to, and he never failed to cheer you up. And it was obvious Rick was the same. He was allowed to simply be himself around you; to loosen up, momentarily forget about the stress and sometimes even the woes that came along with being the town's upstanding sheriff.

As you were nearing your home, Carl decided to cut in.

"Y/N, can we stay at your house? It's been a while since we had a sleepover." Carl asked, his baby blue eyes identical to Rick's alight with hope.

It wouldn't be the first time Rick and the kids would be staying over. You were very close to the Grimes family, sometimes even almost considering them as your own. You didn't mind it. Since you lived alone, it can get pretty lonely. And having people around surely brightened up the house and made you keep your sanity.

"I don't mind, but you gotta ask your dad." You chuckled.

Carl turned to Rick, pouting and giving his best puppy dog eyes. Rick rolled his eyes, but couldn't suppress an inkling of a smile.

"Yeah, yeah. But let me drop you and Judith off with Y/N first. I'll be back, I just need to get some extra clothes and essentials."

"YAY!" Carl cheered, Judith following suit as they both raised their arms and hollered.

"You're so whipped for them." You laughed, shaking your head as you looked at Rick.

"I ain't denying that." He sighed dramatically, grinning.

59 notes · View notes

shirophic · 4 years ago

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birthdays, what intricate things, no? | fuyuhiko kuzuryu x peko pekoyama

here’s another drabble/fic i’ve worked on, lmao here. tw: mentions of blood, sword, mentions of death, angst

“Happy Birthday!”

It was Kuzuryu’s birthday, a special day for sure. After all, the young looking but bold yakuza was turning 23.

Everyone had celebrated with him, throwing a huge party at a nightclub. Party decorations were hung up everywhere, laser lights were dancing across the room, and the past contestants of the second (and hopefully last) killing game had fun, letting go of all of their worries.

Owari and Nidai were dancing together and bumping into everyone laughing loudly. Mioda was performing “I Squeezed Out The Baby And I Don’t Know Who The Father Is.” Saionji and Koizumi were hyping Mioda up while Tsumiki looked uncomfortable but tried to smile with the loud music. Tanaka and Soda were glaring at each other across the room while Nevermind was dancing to Mioda’s singing. Togami was at the corner of the room watching everyone while Hanamura was serving food out to the crowd of adults. Hinata, Komaeda and Nanami were talking with each other.

While Kuzuryu pretended on the outside as if he didn’t care, he really did. After the killing game, he has softened up to his classmates, occasionally letting his guard down.

He had nightmares about the game, although he looked like he didn’t care about the killings - he actually did. Yakuza dealt with gangs and mobs all the time, he was taught this very early on in his life. Whereas it was a yakuza’s duty to be on guard and kill when needed, he was in shock about the game.

Forcing literal children in a killing game? Kuzuryu had killed before, he had a lot of blood on his hands. But he never remorsed about it, afterall it was his duty as a yakuza.

Shaking away his depressing and remorseful thoughts, he looked over to the love of his life, Peko Pekoyama.

Peko was always there for him, always. She refers to herself as a “tool”, but Kuzuryu thought her more than that. Sure, he had grown up with Peko and she was always there like a knight in shining armour in case he got hurt but, in reality - he never wanted that.

He had only wanted her.

Looking at the ground, he slyly took Pekoyama’s hand, a blush forming on his cheeks. Pekoyama turned around from watching Mioda sing and smiled at his antics. She took her other hand and put it on top of his, giving it a firm grip.

Kuzuryu slowly looked up at Pekoyama, locking eyes with her. She was stunning, as always. Her silver hair flowing on her shoulders (for once), her black and white checkered patterned kimono clashing with her light grey coat with her bamboo sword. And most of all - her bright, red eyes.

People were intimidated by Pekoyama at first glance, despite her cute name. But when you’ve known her for literally your whole life - you’d know better than that.

She’s sad that because of her fierce appearance and sword, she can’t pet fluffy animals. She doesn’t like senseless killing, even if she is the ultimate swordswoman. And lastly, she doesn’t know how to smile, after years of not smiling.

Kuzuryu and Hinata had tried to help her smile, it lasted a week. Pekoyama struggled while Hinata and Kuzuryu were her cheerleaders, hyping her up every step of the way. And when Pekoyama finally got her smile right, Kuzuryu’s heart stopped. It was the cutest smile he’d seen, especially coming from the woman you’d sell your soul to.

Coming out of his haze, Kuzuryu had tears forming in his eyes.

“I love you, Peko.”

Pekoyama smiled, tears forming at the ends of her eyes,

“I love you too, Fuyu.”

- - -

After a while, it was time to cut the cake. Everyone gathered at a circle table in the middle of the bar, excited.

“Woohoo! Baby gangsta turning 23 today! Can you believe it?” Owari yelled.

“Hey! I told you not to call me that anymore..” scowled Kuzuryu.

“I’m sure she means only good, Fuyu.” Pekoyama reassured.

Kuzuryu sighed, smiling up at Peko. He always melted when she used that nickname.

“Can we cut the cake yet? I’m starving.” Owari complained, getting nods of agreement from the other ex-students.

Kuzuryu stopped and then chuckled a bit, enough so that only Pekoyama could hear. He loves the fact that no one had changed, due to all of them going through so much together.

“Alright! Time to cut cake everyone!” Nanami smiled.

“Hey, why don’t you and Peko cut it together? Koizumi suggested.

Pekoyama looked over at Kuzuryu, smiling. “Shall we?”

Pekoyama unsheathed her sword, holding it and offering Kuzuryu to hold it as well.

“It’s your 23rd birthday, we must make it memorable.”

Kuzuryu silently agreed and took the sword with Pekoyama, getting closer to the cake.

Together, they slice the cake with Pekoyama’s sword.

But Kuzuryu paused. The cake was hard to slice, why? A cake should be made with flour, sugar, milk and eggs right? Why should it be hard?

“Hey why the pause? I’ve been waiting for this moment!” Souda said, clearly impatient.

Kuzuryu shook it off and continued to slice it, until it made a certain sound.

Squish

A cake shouldn’t make that sound either, what was happening?

Komaeda appeared beside his side, which Kuzuryu was confused about since he was sure he saw Komaeda across the table.

“Fuyuhiko, look at Peko.”

Chills running through his spine, he turned around to see Peko.

Pekoyama was there, hunched back, as the very bamboo sword she held cut through her stomach, blood flowing everywhere.

“Fuyu..? What did you… do?”

Kuzuryu stood in shock, not knowing what to do, he did the very best thing that came at the top of his mind.

He screamed.

- - -

Kuzuryu woke up, startled from his dream.

It was 4 a.m, August 17th, a day after his birthday.

Kuzuryu sweatdropped, then getting up from his bed and going to his kitchen, hoping to make a coffee in peace.

And there his roommates were, Tanaka, Soda and Hinata, drinking coffee while talking together.

Kuzuryu sighed, and went further into the kitchen to make his own coffee.

“Hey Fuyuhiko, what’s wrong?” Hinata questioned.

“Agreed, what is pestering your mind?” Tanaka said shortly after.

“It’s.. It’s nothing, go back to whatever you guys were doing.” Fuyukiho said, obviously tired.

“Eh, you heard the guy,” said a nonchalant Soda.

Hinata and Tanaka both glared at him and focused their attention on Kuzuryu.

“No seriously, what's wrong.” Hinata questioned again, but with more of a firm tone.

Kuzuryu ignored him and made his coffee, pretending as if he didn’t have time for them.

Tanaka appeared at his side, a hand on his shoulder, “You do know, that you can confide in us, yes?

Kuzuryu sighed annoyedly, “It’s not that big of a deal! Just leave me alone.”

The room went silent.

“You’ve had a nightmare again, haven’t you?” Hinata asked.

Kuzuryu went silent to that, glancing at Hinata, he nodded slightly.

The other three didn’t know what to do but give him space, so they let Kuzuryu finish making his coffee and watched as he headed towards his room, slamming the door.

Kuzuryu sat down on the side of his bed, sipping his coffee.

He didn’t know what to do at this point of life.

He was the Ultimate Yakuza, sure. But he had nothing to do anymore. He had graduated from Hope's Peak and now lived in an apartment with some of his ex-classmates.

The entirety of his life was dedicated to his yakuza duties. And now it’s gone. He only had memories of what his life had been of the past, all of which had Peko.

The mere thought of Peko brought tears to his eyes. He hadn’t - no couldn’t accept she was going to die, and had sobbed his heart out in front of everyone, not caring.

Peko was his life, his world. He had never wanted her to think she was just a tool for his benefit. He had never thought of her that way. She was a human being, just like him.

Kuzuryu started to sob quietly, remorsing Peko for what felt like the thousandth time.

“I-I miss you so m-much.. Peko..” Kuzuryu hiccuped. “w-why’d you have t-to leave me so e.. early..?”

Maybe it was a blessing just to have spoken to Peko.

Maybe it was a curse, he’ll never know.

Kuzuryu sobbed in what felt like an eternity, slowly falling back to sleep - and eventually, he met his lover again.

#look i did something! 🕊️ request accepted #discord asks #🙤 · mod tsumugi #kuzupeko #fuyuhiko x peko #fuyuhiko kuzuryu x peko pekoyama #kuzuryu x pekoyama #peko #peko pekoyama #fuyuhiko kuzuryuu #fuyuhiko #sdr2 #danagnronpa 2 #dr2 #danganronpa: goodbye despair #tsumugi-mikan

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wheeier · 4 years ago

Text

fearless

Warnings: pure fluff

based off of taylor swift’s song <3

steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 1.6k

“this is the best celebration ever.”

—

you dressed up nicely, getting ready to hang out with your best friend, steve. he invited you to his house for a small celebration about him passing the test on english that you helped him study with. you glanced on the window, seeing the rain just stopped. droplets from the sky touching the glass, dripping down to the windowsill. you smiled to yourself-you always loved the rain. not the storm, just the rain. there's something in the rain you always love. it makes you feel calm and in peace. the way the ground seems like there's a glow off the pavement looks beautiful to you.

"y/n/n! steve's here!" you heard your mom called from downstairs who was watching a show on the television. you took your attention away from the window and headed out the room.

dustin noticed you as you went out of your bedroom, "y/n, where are you going?" he asks. "to steve's." you looked at him, giving him a small smile. "and you didn't tell me?" he asked in annoyance. "why? you already spent time with him for almost all week. it's my turn, bud. sorry." you shrugged and went downstairs, chuckling as you heard your brother curse.

you headed out of the house, grinning as you saw steve. "let's go?" he reaches for your hand and you gladly took it though you were absolutely flustered. you were glad he didn't notice. or did he?

both of you got inside his car quickly as the rain started to pour once again. steve shakes his head to dry his hair, brushing them with his fingers afterwards. a single motion of him that makes you want him more.

"someone's staring." he teases, taking you out of your trance. "shut up." you rolled your eyes as he chuckles in response.

you averted your eyes to the car window to watch the trees and houses passing by as he drives. the rain started pouring and a thought came to your mind. you always wanted to ask steve to dance in the rain, in the middle of nowhere. you always thought how romantic it looks in movies. maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be so bad if steve gets to be your first kiss-in a very memorable way as the music plays in the car radio. in fact you would treasure that memory forever, only if it would actually happen.

you seemed to be too lost in your train of thoughts that you didn't notice that you have arrived in front of steve's house and didn't hear him ask you a question, until he lightly taps your shoulder as he calls your name.

"huh?" you turned your head to look at him, seeing his concerned eyes at you. "are you okay?"

"y-yeah. i'm..i'm okay." you gave him a nervous smile, avoiding his stare. "are you sure? you seem a little off today." he questioned, searching for your y/e/c eyes. "yeah. i was just thinking." without waiting for his response, an idea hit you. this is now or never. you thought. you looked on the radio and turned it on, 'can't fight this feeling' was playing.

steve was obviously confused and worried. when you opened the car door, he started to panic. "w-hey, w-what are you doing? y/n, it's raining! are you insane? y/n!" you ignored his protests and got out of the car, not caring about ruining your outfit. you walked towards his side of the car and opened the door, grin plastered on your face.

"come on! it's fun." you reached for his hand but he backed away a little, staring between your hand and your eyes. you rolled your eyes, smile not leaving your lips before pulling his hand, letting the rain touch his hair, and eventually his whole body. the man was blushing at this point, not sure if it's because of the cold weather or because of you.

steve stood frozen, clueless on what to do next while you're in the middle of the street, embracing the cold raindrops falling from the sky. you closed your eyes, enjoying the rain pouring down your face. it felt calming. like everything is finally in peace–for you at least.

you slowly fluttered your eyes open, only to see steve in front of you. your heart skipped a beat. he didn't say anything, a comfortable silence filling the air-despite of the rain pouring and touching the ground. he held your hand, pressing his lips on your knuckles gently. the corner of your lips turned up as he pushed some of your hair and tucked it under your ear.

his eyes were twinkling, as well as yours, particularly when he stepped closer, faces only inches away. to him you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. he remembers everything that had happened for the past years, how cool you are hitting the demodogs with a metal pole as he hits some with his nailed bat, how you kneed the russian doctor where the sun doesn't shine as much while saving him and robin-from that he already knew he fell hard. he loves everything about you. god, this man is in love with you.

and boy, so are you.

everything happened so fast, steve grabs the back of your neck, connecting his lips to yours.

you were taken aback for a second before melting into the kiss. your hands travelled to his shoulders then to his hair. you finally got to touch his luxurious locks. you smiled into the kiss at the thought of it. it felt like you were in cloud nine, everything was perfect. this was exactly how you wanted it to be. the rain. song playing on the radio. your first kiss. steve.

the kiss lasted a few more seconds before you both pulled away, catching your breaths as you smiled at each other, your arms remained around his nape while his were on your waist.

"i gotta say, it was impressive of you to not overreact about your hair getting wet." your teased. "if it isn't for you, then i would." you laughed at his words that seemed music to his ears. "dork."

cold breeze touched your skin as you ran inside his house. you both took a warm shower-seperately, him going first so he can look for clothes for you to wear as you took a shower.

you got out of the bathroom, wearing his large grey shirt and black sweatpants. he didn't notice you got out until you spoke. "hey steve, do you have a comb?" he averted his eyes from the magazine he randomly found under his bed to you. his mouth agaped at the sight of you in his clothes.

"stop looking at me like that," you chuckled as you walked towards the bed. you sat down beside him as he sets aside the magazine. he gives you the comb beside him, not tearing his eyes away from you. "thanks." you muttered before combing your hair.

steve lightly shakes his head, going back to his normal self. "i'm sorry about this by the way." you started as you placed the comb on his night stand. "sorry about?" he furrowed his eyebrows. "for ruining our celebration. we were supposed to be eating or maybe cooking right now if i didn't let you come with me in the rain." steve's expression softened as he heard your explaination.

"no, no, no, y/n. this is the best celebration ever. it's way better." he smiles at you, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "thank you." you said just above a whisper as you lied down beside him.

the rain had calmed down, but the cold weather remained as you wrap your arms around steve's waist, his arms around your back-keeping you warm. "you know i'm actually glad you did that," steve mumbled, breaking the comfortable silence. you hummed in response, looking up at him. "yeah. i wouldn't have known that you love me too and-"

you love me too.

his words echoed in your head. you shot up, eyeing him suspiciously. "what's wrong?" he asks. before you could answer, it hit him. "oh, i..no, i mean.." he struggled to get words out of his mouth meanwhile you chuckled, scooting closer back to him. he continued to stutter as you put your hands on his cheeks, "steve?"

one word made him silent.

"i love you too."

when he didn't say anything, you brought your lips to his. this time he was the one who was taken aback, before placing his hands on your nape, kissing back.

it went on for a few seconds, his hand travelling to your back as you straddled his lap and not breaking the kiss. "hey," you mumbled in between the kisses. "as much as i want this.." you placed your hands on his shoulders as he continued to shower kisses on your jaw.

"babe,"

you called, making him stop to look at you. "babe?" he repeats, somehow shocked. "what, you don't like it?" you questioned. "no, no, i was just..i didn't expect you to call me that." you both chuckled. "anyways, as i was saying, i wanna continue but i'm too tired. can we just cuddle until the rain stops?" he nodded and you got off his lap, laying your back on the bed beside him.

steve puts his arm around your shoulders, giving you more room to scoot closer to him. "i love you." you whispered while your eyes were closed. he was still not used to you saying those words, in a romantic way. his stomach would flip everytime you'd say it.

soon sleepiness took over you, steve's lips on your forehead were the last thing you remembered before drifting off.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader imagine #fluff #stranger things fluff #stranger things #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington fluff #Spotify

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pokeexehasstoppedworking · 3 years ago

Text

Love Doesn’t Do Encores Ch18 Battle Gym Leader Melony

It wasn't too surprising all of you fell asleep on the train again that night, seeing how late it was getting when you all hurried onto it like an army of onix was chasing after you all. Thank goodness you managed to catch it and settled down into a couple empty seats to sleep for the night. Come morning the lot of you were already digging into your rations for breakfast to comfort your hungry stomachs that growled for food. And made small talk as the world went flying by outside the windows.

"So how long until we reach Circhester?," you asked biting into come kind of breakfast bar that tasted like bacon bits and oatmeal.

"It's the farthest town from all the others in Galar except for the town in the Crown Tundra Valley but that's farther in the mountains than we need to go," Victor explained after he had pulled out his own phone and pulled up his regional maps to look through them, "It's also deep within the Galarian Mountain Reign so it'll take us about three weeks to get there by train."

"Oh really?"

He nodded again. "The stop we want is Steamdrift Station. From there it's about an hour walk down Steamdrift Way until we get to Circhester and it's gyms."

You paused before blinking and looking at him. Drizzilie taking this chance to pull the rest of your food away from you to eat itself. "Gyms? As in plural?...Like more than one gym?"

"Oh yeah! Guess we haven't told ye!," Gloria cut in leaning into her hand. "The Ice and Rock Type Gyms are located up there and are handled by the gym leader Melony n' 'er son Gordie!"

You paused...eyes blinking wide at them for a moment before pointing. "Hey! Wait a minute! I remember those guys!" YEAH! You did remember them! Ironic since you couldn't remember much of anything else in game. Melony according to in game info was supposed to have a harsh battle style and supposedly be an incredible coach. She ran the Ice type Gym while her son Gordie was in charge of the nieghboring Rock Type Gym also in Circhester. He's supposed to be really popular in a similar way to Raihan and have his own fan base as well that he treats respectfully. ..But the mother and son had a fight over Gordie not wanting to take over his mother's gym and instead but somehow she still became the very first member of his fan club. ...Also he was supposed to have younger siblings as well but you didn't think they were ever shown in the game. You remembered!! That's great! Maybe now you'd start remembering things much more now!! ....You blinked upon noticing the three staring at you. "Uh!...I m-mean I remembering some people talking about them before. Apparently Gordie's pretty popular in Galar."

Hop nodded. "Yeah he is! Last year he was voted Galar's third most eligable bachelor behind Raihan and Lee himself. But unlike Raihan he actually throws a lot of his own events and showings. Lee mentioned once he trained under the old Rock Type Gym Leader before he retired and took over the gym after."

You sighed. Bullet dodged! "Oh. Sounds like he's really nice then." And hopefully won't flirt with you like Raihan did.

Thus began your group's long, LONG trip to the Galarian Mountain Range. Just like your trip back to Motostoke, you all slept on the emptied seats at night but being more prepared Victor had set up his Rotom phone's gps to set off an alarm once the lot of you reached the likes of the station you wanted so you all wouldn't have to take turns staying up all night again to keep an eye out for the right station you wanted. Which was a great idea! Over the next few days you all fell into that repeated pattern minus taking turns staying up at night and during the day just talking about random things while eating food from your rations or looking at whatever the teens pulled up from the internet to show you. Gloria at one point even pulled out her dex books again to finish putting the rest of her pictures into them and showed you the new addtions courtesy of her twin before passing the books over towards the two boys for them to flip through themselves and admire Gloria's handy work. A few more days went by this way until one day Victor all of a sudden said you all should stop at the next town to restock up on food again since it wasn't as much as he thought it was. To which everyone agreed too and at the next town, got off the train and went into one of the random stops which turned out to be a small town like Postwick. From there the four of you gathered supplies and did everything else to prepare to travel again by the time the next train came around before getting back on it and back on your way to Circhester. Day in and night out you four traveled and traveled and traveled. You were starting to get train sick with how much this was going on and found yourself walking up and down the walkways in turns with the others to keep up the exercise and not let yourselves turn your legs to jelly. Until one particular night when you woke up with a shiver. There was a chilly atmosphere inside the metal train from when you were last awake and it was enough for you to make yourself get up groggily. Only to find your drizzilie was lightly shivering as well curled up against your warmer body and stayed clung to you as it groaned in protest at the cold.

"What the-"

"Hey you." You rubbed your eyes turning tiredly to Hop who had his own coat thrown over his shoulders and smiled. "So you're finally awake huh?"

You yawned. "What time is it?"

"About ten in the morning. We're getting closer to the mountains," Victor said and you turned to him next as he rechecked the map on his phone, "We'll be at Steamdrift Station within 'bout three days but you might want to throw on a coat. It's gonna get a wee bit more colder from 'ere on out."

That wasn't a too bad idea actually. You were quick to pull on the coat you had bought and with a bit of a tussle you somehow with Gloria's help managed to pry Drizzilie off of you and put him inside your bag's main opening with Gloria holding it open before you pulled both him and the bag into your lap to make room. And to help keep the lil guy warm. Your pokemon gave a bored expression as he settled down into using the bag as his personal sleeping bag.

"Hey. Don't get too comfy," you reminded him, "Cuz when we leave Circhester you're going back to walking with us again Mr. I-Refuse-To-Get-In-My-Pokeball." Other than rolling his eyes with a sigh, Drizzilie didn't say anything against what you said. "You heard me. This is just to make sure you don't go from a water type to a frozen-water type."

The rest of the three days there was pretty much the same, only now it was hard for any of you all to get to sleep now curled up in the seats because of the cold. Why you even dug out a scarf and wrapped it around your neck and half your face. Didn't these trains have darn heating!? The landscape outside the windows changed too. Going from looking like fall-ish time of the year to mid way between fall and winter, until the last day when you all woke up to have found yourselves so, so...SO!! Cold, and you shivered yanking the hood over your f/c hair more as you looked around and noticed white snow was being blown against the windows like some snow storm. And for all you knew there could actually be one out there.

"ZZZTT. Attention Passengers!," the conductor announced over the speakers to anyone left on bourd. "We'll be arriving at SteamDrift Station within ten minutes. That is all."

"That's our stop!," Victor confirmed, "Make sure you all grab everythin' before we get off."

You all made sure to gather your things, you especially making sure to pull the small hoodie over your Drizzilie's head before pushing him into your bag and telling him to stay in there until you said it was safe for him to come out before zipping your bag up but leaving enough of an opening to allow fresh air to him. Slowly after a few minutes the train finally came to a stop and you all followed Victor out towards the door, you grunting as you stuggled to sling the bag over your shoulders. You had forgotten how heavy this lil guy actually was when carried. You were extremely thankful for the guys getting you the thick coat and scarf too because the familiar full force of Winter hit you as soon as the you all stepped out the door and you shivered from the frosty cold greeting you all. The entire sky was painted in grey snow clouds that made the day look a little dull while snow gently fell from them and down towards the earth below. Around you was a plain looking station that looked more deserted since no one not even a station master was there, and surrounding you all was cliffsides and hills like in Stow-on-Side except unlike Stow-on-Side these were absolutely COVERED in snow and ice as far as the eyes could see as the four of you stood there taking in the sights. The only living things besides you all being pine trees scattered across the snowy land with a cobblestone road leading away from the station that Victor after a moment pointed at.

"That's Steamdrift Way," He explained holding up his phone with a gloved hand to the lot of you showing a map with a red blinking dot that signalled where you all were. "It's connected to Route E-E-Eight. If we go this way we should be at Circhester w-within an hour after crossing Circhester Bridge."

"T-T-Then w-what are we waiting f-f-for?!," Hop stuttered in the cold before pointing a hand forward. "L-Let's get there before we become on thin ice!"

There wasn't any arguments with him as you all headed off. Snow and ice crunched under your all's feet making your group sound like a couple of wooly mammoths trudging through the snow. You all (even you through your scarf covered mouth) could see your breath as snowflakes stuck to your bodies like someone glued white confetti to your clothes as you all followed Victor and his map through the snow. Thank goodness it didn't cover the road up, or else you all might've gotten lost. As you all trudged alone keeping your hands in your pockets after pulling the ends of the sleeves over them to help keep them warm, you all FINALLY came to the stone bridge Victor mentioned before. A cold river running with cold water ran under it as you all crossed and as you walked over it you prayed your drizzilie didn't decided to pop out wanting to swim or see what was going on.

"W-W-We should be there in t-t-ten m-m-more minutes!," Victor shouted back pulling his beanie further over his head.

"B-B-Bloody heck, V-Vick! 'M freezin' my t-tail off 'ere n' I-I ain't even got one!," Gloria yelled back complaining.

"The sooner we git there the sooner ya can rest! So take the energy from ya yappin' mouth and put it to your feet!," He yelled back and Gloria mumbled under her breath.

So you all continued to walk and walk, until you finally reached the end of the road that lead into a metal fenced entrance to Circhester. And you all had a collected sigh of relief once you all got there. It was decently big with it's many story stone buildings you could make out in the snow with cobblestone roads leading everywhere and the figures of two large stadiums on either side of the town as you all got to walking into it. You all passed the pink pokemon center near the entrance of the town and turned right heading towards what you guessed was the town square. A hot spring like fountain was dead set in the middle and there was people walking all around in winter wear with some ice type pokemon or pokemon who could stand this cold weather. Two men had stands selling food in the square as you walked past, one selling some kind of hot wraps and the other......ice..cream??

"D-Dang nabit, V-Vick! W-W-Where's the b-b-bloody hotel a-around here?," Gloria asked rubbing her arms in a failed attempt to warm herself.

"I-I'm with G-Glory on this," Hop added looking around, "I d-don't feel like camping out here at all."

"I'm WORKIN' on it!," Victor spat scowling at his phone hand lightly shaking.....before he pointed ahead of him at a BIG building in front of you all. "H-Hotel is there! L-Let's go!"

You all didn't hesitate to RUN your way to the building he pointed out jack frost biting at your ankles as you did. You all didn't even care if the door was flung open with a loud noise. The rush of warm air greeting your skins was enough to make up for it in your minds as you sighed. Turning your head up to the ceiling in the bliss of getting out of the cold. After a moment or two you finally opened your eyes and blinked them wide open at what you were all looking at. If you thought the Budew Drop Inn in Motostoke was Fancy this place was absolutely F A N C Y with a capitol F!!! It was like one of those luxery hotels in Paris you'd sometimes see in movies or on tv. Complete with marble floors and chandeliers lighting the place up. It was also HUGE!! And this was just the lobby as you gawked around. The other three were busy shaking snow off themselves as Victor walked up to the man at the lobby counter most likely to book your rooms. You hope they weren't too expensive by the looks around here. A moment later he returned with two keys handing one to Gloria before he gestured to the elevator.

"Let's go get settled in and rest for a bit. I'm too cold to think straight. You guys got room fifthteen on the first floor." Whelp! You couldn't argue with that as you all headed towards the elevator and got inside. The trip to the first floor wasn't a very long one as you all piled out and Victor motioned for Hop to follow him to one of the very first rooms closest to the elevator. "I say we all get warmed up and meet up in the lobby to talk 'bout what's the game plan for us 'ere."

"Alright," you agreed with a nod before following Gloria, "We'll see you two in a bit."

Both boys nodded as well before they turned back, Victor unlocking the door with his key before opening it and they disappeared inside. You sped walked to catch up to Gloria who was already standing in front of a door and turning the knob and throwing it open-

"So that means the culprit must be among us!" Gloria paused in the doorway. Eyes wide and hand still out from throwing the door open. "....Wait....Who are you!?" ..You wanted to facepalm. Oh NO!! Don't tell me Gloria opened the wrong door and walked in on someone. You sped up your walking pace as she blinked again. "After all the trouble of deducing things don't go messing it up now!"

By the time you got to Gloria she was already scowling before pointing her frozen hand at him. "N' who might the likes o' you be!?"

You blinked when you looked inside the room....There was a man there along with an older man, a 'hipster' looking girl, a young boy, and some kind of squirrel looking pokemon chewing something as you all stared at one another...Until the middle aged looking man coughed.

"*cough* I suppose I should introduce myself," he proudly put a hand to his chest, "The name's Howses. Yes. THAT Howses. The great detective. I've been hired by the hotel. At present I have corner the culprit of a most heinous crime!"

"What happened?," you asked. Did someone get robbed? Did something go missing? Something worse?!

"I'm glad you asked," Mr. Howses stated, " And that crime is!..The strange case of who ate the large quantity of berries in the lobby!" He shouted pointing to a random basket of apple cores....You and Gloria both gave each other a look. "I've gathered the three people who were present in the lobby at the time of the crime but because of the noise my marvelous deductive reasoning seems somewhat muddled at present."...The hotel...Hired a private detective ..to investigate missing fruit.....What a waste of time! He suddenly pointed at Gloria. "That's it! You interfering child! You will be my assistant!"

Gloria gave him a blank look. "...What?"

"Listen to the stories of each suspect and find the culprit," he said as if what he had just said wasn't crazy or unprofessional at all.

"....Yeah. I ain't doin' that." Gloria dead panned before pointing at the obvious pokemon in the room. "'Sides. I already know who it was-"

Instead of listening the man waved her off and laughed in her face. "Heh heh heh. After listening to everyone's accounts deduced the culprit!"....NO ONE SPOKE!! He pointed at the young hipster looking gal who looked just as deadpanned and done with this as Gloria. "Dancer! You are the culprit!"

"WHAT!?," she demanded angrily, "Why me?!"

"Because you're a dancer! You move and shake your body so much that you needed all that food for extra energy! That's evidence as clear and sharp as the leek of a farfetch'd!"

"WHAT!? What does that even mean!? You're no detective! You're a fraud!" Your thoughts exactly!

The man gave a nervous look all of a sudden. "W-Who are you calling a fraud!? You can't be referring to me! The great detective!"

"I can't deal with this disrespect! I leave it to you! You find the real culprit-"

"*AHEM!!*" Everyone looked back to Gloria who scowled and pointed to the small pokemon chittering at everyone around them. "IT. WAS. THAT!! They ate the darned fruit ya ninnies can't seem ta take a hint of."

The 'detective' blinked before turning to the pokemon. "What? That skwovet is the one responsible?" He looked closer at the small pokemon who looked at him curiously covered in food. "A-.....As expected of my assistant!" He loudly proclaimed all of a sudden proudly and crossing his arms looking pleased with himself. "Splendid! Just splendid! I'm overjoyed!"....He peeked an eye out at all of you annoyed and angry at him before coughing. "Well now that's taken care of...I must be off now." He suddenly sped walked towards you and Gloria and you both scrambled to move aside as he took off down the hall. "Take care, Everyone!"

"Hey you! Just wait a minute!," the girl yelled before running right after the 'detective'.

"Hahaha! I guess I'm supposed to chase after him too," the old man said before also jogging after the two as you and Gloria squished against the sides of the doorway to give them room...before looking after them....and blinking to one another.

"What the world was THAT about?," she asked.

"Honestly I have no idea and I'm too tired to really care," you mumbled gesturing her towards your actual room. "Let's go set up our room and take a break before we have to meet back up with the others."

Fast forward about an hour after finding the right room and getting yourself settled, you all made it down to the lobby to meet up with Victor and Hop. After you had let your Drizzilie out, thankful that he didn't seem to be hurt or even bothered as she walked out and stretched out like a cat before you all left. Promising you'd bring him back some food. Finding the boys already waiting for the both of you with their winter wear and waved the two of you over.

"There you guys are," Victor greeted seeing the two of you walk over, "We've been waiting for ten minutes and I wanted to try and get things as done here as soon as possible."

"We've only just got here this morning," you calmly reasoned raising a questioning brow at him. Yeah you wanted to leave as soon as you all could too since it was freezing and obviously the weather probably wasn't good for your pokemon, but you didn't think you've ever seen Victor this insistant on leaving somewhere so quickly. "What's gotten you into wanting to leave so soon?"

"Vick here hates the cold," Hop explained before humming, "Scratch that. He absolutely despises it."

"Well it's not MY fault that ice is so dangerous and you have a great chance of freezin' ta death," Victor snapped back pouting.

"Nevermind that! Did you guys figure out what you wanted to do yet?," you asked changing the subject to avoid more fighting.

Surprisingly both boys nodded and Hop spoke again. "I wanted to try my hand at beating the Rock Type Gym since I think I've come up with a strategy to beat him."

"I was actually thinking about taking on the other Gym 'n town, "Gloria pondered thoughtfully, "I got a good idea 'bout how to defeat Melony after watchin' a lot of her battles on the train ride 'ere. But first I need ta stop by the center and switch out some of me pokemon in order to make it work."

"Well I wanted to stop by around town and get some pictures of the famous Circhester hot springs," Victor explained holding up his camera, "The legends say that the great Hero of Galar rested in the springs and it healed all his wounds. ..Plus I wanted to try the famous Bob's Your Uncle cafe here too. They're supposed to have THE best curry in all of Galar, and who knows when I'll come back here again." He then looked at you. "What about you Y/n?"

You looked at him interested. "Well if I'm being completely honest I think I'll come with you. It's been a while since I've been able to walk around and go sight seeing."

"Then it's settled! Let's meet back 'ere in the lobby when we're all finished."

You all agreed and after tightening your coats around you more, all made off your own ways. Gloria heading in the direction of the pokemon center on the other side of town before going off to battle with you and the boys heading in the opposite direction towards the rock gym since the famous Hero Springs Victor wanted to look at. Eventually parting with him too as soon as the both of you got there. Wishing him luck against Gordie before he left and you followed Victor to what you could only describe as a bath house modeled closely to the buildings of the ancient roman times back on your world. You followed Victor around marveling the sights and old looking structure as he smiled despite his hate for the cold and snapped plenty of pictures of everything as he did back at the Hammerlocke Castle Ruins. You walked up to the steaming water that almost looked boiling hot that was roped off from the public just touching it and watched the warm steam rise from it. Sighing as the warm steam was welcomed against the biting cold you couldn't get away from right now. Victor having getting his share of the old historical sight mentioned there was a few other places that the spring water came through, like the fountain in the town square and mentioned wanting to check out the extended parts of the underground spring as well and offered for you to come if you were interested in coming with him. Of course you agreed since you really had nothing else to do at that moment while waiting for the other two to complete their Gym battles, which by now you were sure they were doing or at least finishing up any gym challenge they were doing at the moment, before going back to the meet up spot anyways. So together you two traveled from the front of the rock type gym to the center of town so he could document more of the springs, before following him again as he moved somewhere else and you followed him down a small flight of stairs to another but much more smaller part of the springs that wasn't so visible or visited by the public. And then another small spot just like a little farther aways on the other side of town. It was...Pretty peaceful despite the chilling cold and snow lightly still falling around you, Victor, and everyone else walking around. It was quiet except for your footsteps crunching through the snow and anyone else walking around or talking. Walking around the decently big town with Victor you noticed there was also a few businesses besides the pokemon center. Your resident barber shoppe, an antique store, a few small little thift shops that sold merchandise of what looked like the two gyms and their gym leaders at the brief glances through the windows you gave, a grocery store, a clothes store, of course the hotel, and a strange looking cafe with the Logo of a man out in front. A sign above the door told you the name of said establishment. Bob's Your Uncle. Hey. Wasn't that the cafe Victor mentioned back at the hotel he mentioned wanting to see? You pointed it out to him and he seemed to light up! Mentioning how you two should drop by and seeing it even if you didn't eat anything. You agreed since by all the walking around and sight seeing you did, you two must've been out here for nearly two hours by this point. So it'd be nice to warm up for a bit. So you two happily walked up to said store and pushed the door open before walking right in. The warm air of the cafe combined with the mouth watering smells of the food made you sigh in relief. Another bigger picture of the logo man was inside on one of the walls, with the place being a color scheme of yellow and red, and a few people sitting around eating already. Including one particular boy who looked up from his seat in the back when Victor pointed him out.

"Hey Hop!," Victor called over to him and Hop looked up from where he was sat phone in one hand and hot coco in the other but smiled when he saw you two approuching. "What are you doing here? I thought we were gonna meet back at the hotel."

Hop shrugged. "Yeah, but I thought it'd be fine to stop by for some hot chocolate. Who doesn't like hot coco?"

"I know I do!," You agreed with a smile, "How did your battle go?"

"Arghhh." He slumped back turning his head up to the ceiling with a groan. ""I lost. It all went to pot. There must've been something wrong with my strategy but I just did what I've seen Lee do in battles!"

"Huh..Well maybe that's the problem."

He paused before blinking back to you as you looked at him. "....Huh? Whaddya mean?''

"Well, everyone has different fighting styles. Including you and Gloria, and if these guys are a part of the league and you're trying to fight like Leon, they'll probably be able to beat you because they've seen how Leon fights and knows how best to counteract his style."

"But he's the unbeatable champion! If I use his method I should be able to be unbeatable too! I've studied his style for years!"

"It may seem like that," You explained, "But it IS Leon's style and he's perfected it. If someone tries to copy him they won't be as perfect as it compared to someone who's mastered his own style to a degree that makes him such a powerful trainer. And everyone's style is constantly changing. Think about it. If Lee kept his style the EXACT same then eventually someone would've found a flaw in it by now and taken the title from him. Leon doesn't have 'just one style' either. Like everyone else they train and adapt to better themselves that's how he's unbeatable. It's ok to use things you learnt other people do, but you said yourself you were thinking of new strategies. Instead of trying to apply what you think Leon would do, ask yourself what would YOU do."

Hop paused seeming to stare at you for a while before humming and looking back to his phone. "...You actually might have a point. I'll have to rethink a few things then."

You smiled. "Glad I could help. Speaking of which Where's Gloria? If you're finished with your battle then that must mean Gloria is too right?"

"Maybe she's waiting for us back at the hotel."

"Oh hey!" You yelped and jumped around at the lady's voice that suddenly came up behind you, and found yourself face to face with none other than said brunette Girl and Sonia who chuckled at your reaction. "There you are."

....You sighed before giving her a frown. "First Leon and now you too Sonia?" You crossed your arms. "Seriously. Give a girl a warning you're gonna do that first...Wait. What are you doing here anyways?"

"Got that Gym badge, Glory?," Hop asked politely.

Gloria nodded with a proud hum. "I jus' had ta switch out for some fire n' steel types I caught. Wasn't easy tho."

"Nice one!," Hop complimented before holding something out to her, "That reminds me. Here. Take this. It's the rock leader's league card. You should check out the gym leader you'll have to face too. And me. I've gotta figure out what to put on my team once and for all and no more of this doubting! Especially when I have to defeat at least one of the gyms here for their badge."

"Gee thanks!" She eagerly took the card from him.

"I've been trying to found out more about the Darkest Day and the sword and shield pokemon, but still no luck." She sighed before shaking her head. "I was hoping to investigate the Heroes Bath after studying the tapestries and castle ruins in Hammerlocke." Oh. So she had been there before. "And I haven't been able to get more intel on the strange discovery in Stow-on-Side since the Chairman's team is still researching and the area's become off limits to anyone who isn't the League or authorized. But I just ran into Gloria here and figured the rest of you couldn't be far behind her."

You chuckled. "Well you aren't wrong. I'm really sorry about all the dead ends stopping your work Sonia. I'm sure you'll get a break through somewhere." And you DID know since according to the game she does.

She smiled. "Well thank you, Y/n. It's much appreciated." Her blue eyes glanced behind you. "It's really nice ...." She paused staring right over your shoulder. "...to..see you...Wait."

You rose a brow. "What?" Your f/c eyes blinked in confusion when Sonia all of a sudden grabbed you and pushed you aside a bit as she moved behind you. Unintentionally making you bump into the table Hop was sitting at making him scramble to hold his hot coco out of harm's way as you gave her a look. "Sonia!?"

"Hold on!" She exclaimed back looking at a wall. But more importantly what was ON the wall. Which looked like half a tapestry. And in the very SAME art style and people on them from the Hammerlocke Vault!! "No way! What's this!?"

"Uh...A fifth tapestry??"

"The heroes!" She exclaimed pointing to both of the same men from the first tapestries. "Look..sad. And where are the sword and shield?" She hummed before scanning it more. "What was the meaning of this picture?" Ever the fast thinker wasn't she?

You pushed yourself from the table dusting your still slightly snow covered self off before shrugging. "Well those behind them look kinda like grave stones or some kind of sealed tomb." You pointed out pointing at the tapestry and Sonia squinted harder at where you were pointing. "This probably just means the end of the legend. Y'know. Where the hero finally gets to have peace after his long battle? It happens all the time in fairytales."

"You think so?," she asked giving you a glance. As you shrugged she looked back to the tapesry, or what seemed to remain of it, with her hand to her chin blankly staring at it. "....Didn't think I'd see something like this in Bob's Your Uncle. I guess it could be they passed on or that they were sealed away. Or maybe they've gone into some kind of sleep?"

"Well...I mean they call it 'rest in peace' for a reason."

"Well.." You flinched when Hop spoke, not expecting the boy to be studying the tapestry too. "Based on those statues we saw at Stow-on-Side, the sword and shield were actually two pokemon right?"

You rose a brow. "Since when did you see those statues back in Stow-on-Side?? You and Victor left before Bede's stunt."

"Gloria showed me pictures she took of it before you left. But it kinda dawned of me seeing those sword and shield symbols on them. Couldn't they have been pokemon?"

"That's right! That's my take on it at least."

"......Hey." She suddenly turned to Hopand blinked as he pointed to Gloria. "You remember the pokemon we met that day?" ...Gloria rose a confused brow as he spoke. "You remember. That weird giant blurry pokemon we met in the Slumbering Weald."

"Oh yeah! I've completely forgottin' 'bout that by now." She shivered. "Still gives me the heeby jeebies."

Hop chuckled a bit. "Do you think...it could've been one of them?" he gestured the hand holding his phone to her. "Either the sword or shield pokemon? The blurry fog monster we saw kinda looked like those pokemon statues in Stow-on-Side you showed us."

"You..." Sonia was slow to blink and look at Both the kids wide eyed as she talked. The only one who looked super confused was Victor who you guessed hadn't heard of the 'mysterious fog pokemon' bit. "Met them?! Like...Really REALLY met them!?"

"Come on. You know what I'm talking about right, Glory?"

She nodded, "Yep. Right before Lee bailed us out o' the Slumberin' Weald."

"Exactly! We told you too Sonia remember. The mad pokemon we ran into in the fog! Although..I can't remember seeing it too well. Don't you think that could've been it?", Hop pondered.

"Oh right! You lot have been in the Slumbering Weald!"

"Duh."

You gave Gloria a small tap to her shoulder as if to say 'Don't be rude.' "As much as I agree this is all strange, don't you all think you're jumping the gun here a bit? That could've been any big pokemon in the fog, and you said it yourself. You don't remember much of what it looked like. We shouldn't just make assumptions without proof."

Hop hummed. "I guess you're right. It'd be too much of a coincidence anyhow. But it's not an assumption, just a guess. Doesn't hurt to theorize ideas."

Sonia on the other hand smiled happily and held up her hands excitedly. "I only started on this journey because my gran told me to, but this is turning out to be so much fun! You've got to tell me more! How about we discuss this over a meal? Go on. What do you want to eat? Let's get our orders in!"

"Whoa! Hey there buckaroo!" She blinked when you grabbed her shoulder and she blinked. "As much as I love the food as much as the next person, maybe you should slow down there a bit. Didn't you just get here or something?"

...She gave a bashful face. "Oh yeah. R-Right. Sorry I must've gotten caught up in the moment. But hey! How about I treat you all to a nice curry and hot chocolate anyways? It'd be the least I could do for all the kindness you've shown me."

"I dunno. I don't wanna leave my Drizzilie in the hotel room for too long. I'm afraid he's gonna come looking for us if we're gone for too long and I don't want him outside in this weather."

"How about the sweet instant noodle curry they serve here?," Victor suggested as a compromise pointing to the counter the two men were currently cleaning, and the stack of supplies, food, and other things lining the wall behind them. "All they would have to do is poor hot water in it and it's the cheapest curry on the menu. Plus I don't like the spicy ones too much. I may hate the cold but I'm not up for burning my tongue."

Sonia nodded. "Quick and simple. Sounds like a good match to me!" She turned towards the two men and waved a hand gaining one's attention. "Yoo hoo. Sir! Five instant noodle curries and hot cocos please! Uh. Sweet wise." The man nodded before putting down the cloth he was wiping the counter with and turning to grab a few things from the shelf as Sonia gestured for the five of you to sit with Hop at the big table he was currently at. "While we wait, I'd love to hear about your experiences in the Slumbering Weald again. Maybe it'll help me piece together something."

"Sure!"

So the five of you at around the table as you all patiently heard Hop recount the entire events of the Slumbering Weald incident starting from the wooloo banging against the gate to the Slumbering Weald to when you all left it. In the middle of him retelling his your food was delivered by one of the men behind the bar and you gladly took it wanting something warm in your stomach before having to go back out in the cold, Gloria taking a quick picture of it before you all began eating it. It looked and smelt a lot like those instant ramen cups you'd sometimes had to resort to have for lunch back at home since money was tight with your mother working hard as a single mother now and you having to work summer, weekend, and afterschool jobs in your spare time to help with bills. If you didn't then she'd say you were being lazy with your music and games again...Anyways. It looked like instant ramen and was sprinkled with curry sauce. You were a bit doubtful of how it'd taste but when you ate it it wasn't that bad. It had a bittersweet kinda taste that wasn't too sweet or sour thanks to the sauce covering the noodles when you ate it, and it was a bit more like pasta than a curry. But you weren't going to complain about free curry and hot coco in this cold weather and neither was anyone else as they ate and listened to Hop, and then Gloria as she recounted her own point of view on the events which was pretty much Hop's as well but you all let her speak her mind. By the time she finished everyone had already finished eating and drinking their food even Hop who had gotten a second hot coco thanks to Sonia's generiousity.

"-and then Lee found us and marched us both back home where we met up with Y/n," Gloria finished pointing at you. "Mum was...not very happy about it all."

"Fascinating," Sonia commented thinking again, "All right." She suddenly stood up making all of you blink. "The next thing to do now that we're done eating is to have a look around Circhestester! Let's inspect the Hero's Bath."

"Huh? But we were just there. Wasn't anything that could be tied to your research," Victor said.

You shrugged as you stood up. "Well we were going to leave to go back to the hotel soon anyways. Let's go have a look since we'll have to go that way anyways."

Victor looked like he wanted to protest but sighed as his Best friend and twin also stood up to follow Sonia out the door. The cold outside nipped back at all of you as you tightened your scarf around your nose and mouth. Following Sonia back to the steaming waters of the spring under the town as you all entered back under the historical sight. Hop and Gloria looking out in awe at the place.

"The Hero's Bath, "Sonia commented looking around the place, "They say this is where the two heroes came to soothe their wounds after the battle to bring down that evil presence long ago. Nowadays only pokemon really use the Hero's bath though. Hmm. Who exactly were the heroes that bathed here? I think I'll have to look into that...Gloria! Hop!" She turned her head to shout at the two and both looked up from one of the carvings in the stone at her. "You two met a mysterious pokemon back in the Slumbering Weald. Perhaps...you two can become new heroes."

You blinked at her. Where did that come from?

Even Hop looked at her confused and skeptical. "What? Like some hero waving around a sword and shield? Psh. Pull the other one."....But he hummed. "Though...I guess I'd fancy a shield if I had to take my pick."

"Hm. What kind of battle do you think the heroes had back then?"

You shrugged and went to say something- "Why don't we show her, Glory?" Hop asked giving his friend a playful shove, "Think we can pull off a real heroic battle?"

Gloria giggled back before giving him her signiture determined look. "Oh I think that'd be just the thing ta warm up me bones!"

"Sonia treated us to a great meal. After all that curry I feel like I've got the energy to wrestle a bewear!"

Sonia returned her hands to her hips amused. " A battle now? I don't entirely understand your reasoning but I might as well see what you can do."

"FORG-G-GET IT!!", Victor yelled as you all looked at his shivering form turn on his heel and stomp off towards the hotel, "Y-Ya'll can battle if ye want! 'M headed inside the warm hotel!"

"..Hm. I'd hate to say this, but I think I getting get back too." You gave Sonia a look. "Thanks for the food. It was really good seeing you again, but I REALLY wanna go back and check on my drizzilie."

She nodded understanding. "Of course. I'd feel the same thing about Yamper if I was in your position."

You nodded before turning to the other two. "And you guys don't stay out here for too long. Come back when you're all done battling."

"We will!," Hop quickly agreed before pointing away from the Springs, "Time for a little exhibition match starring the future champion!"

With a wave to them all you all turned and jogged to catch up to Victor who was rubbing his arms and muttering to himself as he stomped his way back towards the hotel. And you didn't blame him, you wanted to get out of the cold too and see how your Drizzilie was doing. You two made your way across the town and into the familiar fancy hotel, through the elevator and immediately headed onto your own seperate rooms. You were kinda worried your pokemon might've wodnered out of the room but when you entered you found him in the same spot you left him in. Curled up on one of the beds and barely even opened an eye at you as you came back in gave giving a small thrum before curling back onto it's side away from you and going back to napping. Hmm...Maybe Hop was right about your drizzilie developing a new lazy habit. Or maybe it was because he was cold blooded or something like a snake and had a hibernation thing?? You shrugged it off and instead sighed as you finally had a moment to shed your winter coat and relax for a little bit, flopping onto the bed next to the napping pokemon who again barely moved as you did so. And you remained there eve when Gloria returned and you gave a small wave as a greeting.

"Hey. How was the battle?"

"Fine! Although I won Hop seems to finally have gotten out of the lil funk he was in thanks ta Bede!," she answered happily, " 'E's with Victor right now."

"Hey that's great to hear! It's good he's getting back into a healthier mindset."

"Yeah! I still can't wait ta see him compete in the champion finals this year! It's gonna be so much fun! I-....." She stopped talking for a second and then you heard frantic shuffling about and footsteps. With a sigh you turned your head up from the spot you were laying down at and was met with the sight of her shaking her coat upside down frantically over he bed as she looked worried. When nothing dropped from the coat she unceremoniously dropped it and whipped her head around back to you. "Y/N! My camera's gone!"

"..What?," you asked pushing yourself up as she patted herself down searching her pockets.

"Victor's camera he's lettin' me borrow!," she yelled sounding more concerned,"I was supposed ta give it back ta him once I finished fillin' me dex books!! He's gonna kill me!"

"Whoa! Hey!" You were quick to push yourself up into a sitting pose as you watched her start to likely panic. "Gloria!" She paused blinked wide eyed worried at you as you groaned standing off the bed and stretching out your back. "First you need to calm down." You held up a hand rubbing your back. "You probably just accidentally dropped it somewhere."

"WHERE!?"

"I have no idea." She looked worried again. That was probably the wrong thing to say apparently. "Whoa. Don't freak out on me here. Look. There's still plenty of daylight left. I'm sure if we just retrace your steps then we'll find it for sure. When's the last time you remembered having it?"

.....She blinked. "Uh! A-At the cafe! Then we went to the hero's bath."

You nodded. "Ok. Then let's go look over there and see if we can't find it ok?"

Gloria nodded and you sighed again. Looks like you all were going out yet again. You both quickly put your winter wear back on and out you went again. The winter weather nipping at you even colder now that it must've been about near sun down by how limited light there was too. There was still enough to clearly see the snow and all the surroundings but it was noticably colder as night drew nearer as you both stopped in front of the warm springs in the town square.

"A-Alright! 'Eere's the plan!," Gloria said pointing at you, "I'll go check the cafe you go check the bath. We'll cover more ground like that!"

You nodded wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. "Alright. But hurry, and keep an eye out in case you dropped it on the ground somewhere. Meet me back here as soon as you can."

She nodded and before you could get another word in she turned and scurried off towards the cafe area. After a moment to relax you sighed shaking your head and started walking off towards the Hero's Bath, making sure to scan the road and ground around you for any signs of a camera dropped in the snow. But you saw nothing as you looked around. Your footsteps crunched in the snow once again and you shivered rubbing your arms as you made your way towards the hero's bath still looking for it. Just when you thought you'd be able to rest for the rest of the day. You just wanted to find the darn thing and return back to the warm hotel. As you circled the large building needed to get to the Hero's Bath you paused blinking at the sight in front of you. Oh great what was it now? In front of the Hero's Bath was a small crowd of anywhere from fifthteen to about twenty people mostly women huddled around...something? Sure the Hero's Bath must've been a really cool historical sight to see but you didn't think such a crowd would gather here all of a sudden especially when it wasn't like this the other times you passed by it. Oh well. Right now you could care less and just wanted to find that darn camera and return to the hotel as soon as possible. Besides you could easily just walk around the happily chattering crowd without having to bother anyone. Get in, look around for a camera, get out, and then meet up back with Gloria. Easy enough. Or so you thought. With a sigh behind your scarf, you braced yourself and began walking your way over towards the crowd, and like you had suspected there was plenty of room to walk passed them, or so you thought again when a woman dressed in all while and with white hair suddenly appeared and you both ran right into each other. With the speed walk you were going it was impossible to stop on time before you collided with the white blur with a yelp. Stumbling back your foot slipped on some snow and down you went arms flailing landing on your bottom on the hard stone ground. Luckily you weren't hurt but you hissed and mumbled something under your breath at the feeling of the cold seeping into the back of your pants now.

"Oh my goodness gracious!," an older woman's voice exclaimed above you and when you looked up you were met with a woman who looked about the same age as your mom as she held her face in an 'Oh no' kinda pose as she looked at you. All decked out in white winter wear. "I'm so sorry, Young Lady. I didn't see you there."

You waved her off as more people turned their heads at the commotion. "Nah. It's ok. It's my fault I wasn't looking where I was going-," you had begun to say before another's voice much more louder and angrier sounding made you both look over.

"MOM!! What are you doin'!?," A man's voice shouted out as people parted and a guy who looked vaugely familiar marched his way forward. The man wore...Shades of all things in this not so sunny weather with a tan-ish coat thrown over himself and blonde-white hair that draped to just above his shoulders as he pushed his way through the small crowd of people until he stopped right in front of you and the woman. He looked right at your confused self still sitting on the ground for a moment before looking over at the woman with a deep frown. "Seriously!? Ya knocked one of my fans over?"

"I'm so sorry, Honey. Really I am," she said calmly as if she had all the patience of an ancient monk. "But it was an accident." Oh. So this must've been his mom. But what does he mean by fan?? You didn't even know this guy.

"Tch!," he scoffed before crossing his arms, "Yeah right. You crash all my events especially after I win against a gym challenger." Your eyes widened. ....Gym chall-..OH!! Now you remember! You looked between the two who had a resemblance now that you looked at them. Gym Leaders Melony and Gordie! So that's why he looked semi familiar to you. These were some of the few characters you actually remembered from your time playing the game! ..Oh. And they were known for fighting of course. "You're lucky you didn't cause her to hit her head during the fall!" You looked back up blinking wide eyed at him as he scowled at his mother. "Did you even apologise to her or were you just gonna forget that too?"

You stared wide eyed at him. Who says that to their own mother!? Through all this Melony just calmly and sadly watched him as he angrily spewed out. You WISH your mom was like Melony- "HEY!!" You were quick to try and rise to your feet stumbling a bit on the snow as you did. Rising up with your own frown behind the scarf covering your face and quickly dusting yourself off.

"Ah man. Are you alright there?," he asked holding his hand out. "Sorry about my mom-"

"Oh be quiet!" You bluntly said as you snapped your face to him, which combined with your sharp tone seemed to make him pause in the moment. "I know exactly who you are!! What is WRONG with you man!?" You couldn't help but shout at him. Well considering Gordie's only a side character who you wouldn't probably see again after Gloria defeated him, it would be ok to shout at him. Especially since you weren't in the game's storyline at the moment. So you jabbed him in the chest which made him blinked and take a couple steps back. "Of course your mother apologized to me but that's NOT the point! It was an accident and I happened to run into HER! Not the other way around!! Are you kidding me with your behavior right now, Gordie!? Don't you see what you're doing!?" You gestured towards Melony who looked shocked herself seeing you jab at her son. "You're yelling at your own mother who didn't do anything wrong in front of a bunch of your fans in public!? Are you trying to embarrass her or something!? Your mom's so much nicer than you!! Geez! What were those guys thinking!?"

"I-...W-Wha-" He sputtered but you shut him down real quick.

"NO! You're not allowed to talk to me! You know why? Because your mom's one of the nicest people in all of Galar!! DUDE GET OVER YOUR STUPID EGO!! You both had a fight like..years ago!? So WHAT?! You're running your own stadium you wanted and you have like loads of fans! Don't you think that bashing her in front of your fans would make her look bad!?....No. Scratch that." He blinked as you took a step forward and he stepped back. "It makes YOU look bad! SO I am NOT a fan of yours! I'm just here looking for a missing camera but even if I didn't I'd still feel bad for your mother! Don't you think the reason Melony makes an effort to be in your fan club and trying so hard to support you is her way of showing she cares about you and is actually sorry about the fight you two had!?" You shook your head. "Gosh. Your head must be thicker than a onix if you missed that!!"

There was silence all around as the once crowd of chattering people were all shocked and staring at you, Gordie, or Melony or looking between the three of you as Gordie just stared jaw dropped and making noises like a fish out of water as you scoffed and turned around. Melony watching with equal reaction to her son and even passing people who weren't a part of the crowd was staring right at you as you turned your back to him.

"So don't apologize to me. Because the only one you should be apologizing to is your poor mother." You gave him one last very SERIOUS look over your shoulder. "As someone who wished for a parent like her, you need to get a reality check man." You turned back to his shocked mother before sighing. "I'm really sorry about all this, Ma'am. But I gotta go. I have to meet up back with my friends."

With a new sour feeling that combined with your annoyance with the cold and falling down, without looking behind you, you turned on your heels and stomped off back towards where Gloria was headed when you both split up. You didn't feel like staying at the Hero's Bath any longer now with the eerie silent you left behind. Everyone watched after you as you disappeared....until a single THUNK sound broke the silence as Gordie's shades fell off his shocked face to the cold ground below.

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