#off the floor if they were right next to u . u are also afraid the extent of your ability to care for someone is something that is not

[silphilis]

i hate knowing why i do things thats so fucked. i have medical brainrot and its still not enough to erase the comprehensive collection of data i have on why ive done and felt everything that i have done and felt for my whole life. ruins the fun of it. buzzkill. cockblock. etcetera. shawties that cant even fuck up their own life in peace because they are painfully aware of why they want to act up and how to fix it. fuck you

[predestinatos]

cinnamon taste ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙ — CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader

summary: your best friend showing up at your apartment isn't the only surprise you had that day

tags: best friends to lovers, giddy and shy charles, sooo much fluff, christmas vibes, improvised and creative mistletoe confession

words: 2.6k

note: someone requested something along these lines and i had sooo much fun writing it!! my heart is full and warm... rlly hope u guys like it too and happy holidays for those who celebrate

The scent of cinnamon and apple filled your lungs as you entered your apartment door. You congratulated yourself on the good choice of incense, apparently, but also punished yourself for seemingly leaving the music on while you were out. Jazz-y Christmas songs were playing softly, your living room feeling like a daydream of warmth and coziness.

But that dream was soon shattered upon the realization that you had brought your phone with you – there was no way it was still connected to Bluetooth. Someone was in your house.

Before you had time to panic as you removed your gloves and jacket, a figure appears before you and spins you in the air, embracing you tightly. At first, you screamed, terrified. But then the figure placed you on the floor, continuously repeating “it’s me it’s me I’m sorry” while giggling.

You immediately recognized the voice – your best friend was wrapped in an apron, glasses on and remnants of flour on his messy brown locks. Immediately, your heart went from racing to galloping, fear replaced by happiness. However, before you could show the good part, you punched him slightly in the chest, the hit clearly not producing any sort of damage. “You are such an idiot, Charles! You almost killed me” you said, although a smile was creeping in your lips and eyes as he pulled you for a hug.

Despite how long you’ve known each other, the hugs always felt the same: earnest, meaningful, his heart beating next to your ear, hands wrapped around you like a warm caress. It felt like this when you were 10 and played together, when you were 15 and snuck out together, and now this. You weren’t expecting to see him, especially not this close to Christmas day.

“I thought I’d do something with the spare key you gave me when I crashed here for a few weeks,” he said, as if reading your thoughts, already jumping between wondering how he got in and when he did it. His eyes, filled with affection, seemed simultaneously nervous, registering your face as if in analyzing it carefully.

Before you had time to ask, he pulled your arm and guided you to the kitchen – your own kitchen – warmly telling you “I have a surprise.” You followed him and as you entered the small marble kitchen, the scent hit you even harder. It smelt of comfort, of a cozy campfire feeling, of sweet bakeries opened and filled with decorations, all inside your house. The kitchen itself was slightly messy, hinting at its use, and Charles stood in it proudly, grabbing some mittens to remove the delicious smelling content from the oven.

They were cookies, made in all possible shapes and sizes – some unidentifiable, as he clearly did them by hand. The image of them filled your heart, your best friend placing them on the counter as he checked if they were ready to be eaten, almost like a postcard waiting to be stilled in time. “For how long are you staying?” you asked, afraid of the answer.

That fear proved itself right as you saw his expression change suddenly, the smile leaving his eyes and remaining only on his lips, an attempt at feigning comfort where there could possibly be none. “The day after tomorrow” he said, after a small cough, acting as if it was nothing, trying to lessen the pain of not knowing when you’d see him again.

Just for that moment, you decided to shrug it off as well, to ignore the elephant in the room that were the less than 48 hours you had to enjoy each other’s company, the knowledge that the old times of friendship won’t come back. “Better eat all of those until then!” you said, in your best effort to showcase as little sadness as possible.

You opened one of your cabinets and removed two mugs from it, one of them farther away than expected. On your tiptoes, you reached for the red mug with a big C on it, with “clumsy” written underneath in small letters. It was reserved especially for Charles, a small part of him that remained untouched from the moment he left and would only be touched again when he came back – which wasn’t often. Upon seeing it, his smile lit up once again, dimples showing on his slightly flushed cheeks, his upper arm reaching to fix the glasses he was wearing as his hands were busy sprinkling cinnamon all over the biscuits.

Placing the just made hot chocolate on the small glass coffee table in your living room, you waited for Charles, who showed up holding a plate decorated with all of his creations, which he placed next to your mugs.

You wrapped around blankets as you sat on the floor, mimicking simpler times, nostalgia running through your veins as the liquid you drank ran through your throats. Charles’ eyes scanned your living room again, “did you decorate this all by yourself?” he asked, as he analyzed the matching patterns in your white Christmas tree and how well they fit with the honey tones of the decorations scattered carefully around the room.

“Depends,” you replied, smiling, “Do you like it?” He looked at you then, the same nervousness returning to his cheeks, red from something that couldn’t be the cold, given the warmth inside your apartment. For the first time since you knew him, his eyes studied your face in a way that made you look away timidly. “Yes it’s amazing” he replied, answering the question as a way to break the sudden tension, but creating an opposite effect.

“A friend helped me” you confessed to him, shrugging. “I don’t think you know him, he-” you were about to begin, but Charles’ eyes shot to you and then quickly to the content inside his mug, fidgeting as he did so. “He and his girlfriend, love decorations and had some extra stuff from their last year so they added a lot to this” you explained, emphasizing the word ‘girlfriend’ as if it needed to be, as if you owed your best friend an explanation or seal of approval that you weren’t aware of until now. You knew it was necessary, however, when you saw his shoulders relax at your words, chest rising and falling softly underneath his sweater.

You rested your head against his shoulders reassuringly, letting him know that he wouldn’t miss any detail of your life, that you’d always make sure to update him on everything. You weren’t sure that’s what he wanted but you hoped he would understand the sentiment behind it, and you were sure he did when he laid a soft kiss on the top of your head.

His body smelled of cinnamon itself, sweet and lovely, and you couldn’t help but pull him closer by the arm, feeling his warmth which you hadn’t for so long. “I missed you, Charlie” you said, smiling to yourself. “Me too, silly” he replied whilst slowly pushing you away and getting up. “Which reminds me, I have something for you.”

You looked up at your best friend, feeling the cold spot from where he previously was, as he ran hurriedly to one of your spare rooms – which could be called his room since that was all the use it had. “Why don’t you just give it to me and I’ll open on Christmas? I don’t want to jinx it!” you yelled from your sitting place, biting one of the tree-shaped biscuits he had prepared, amazed at its taste and softness.

he came back holding a small box in his hands, carefully wrapped and decorated with a red ribbon at the top. Pride was written all over his smile and gaze as he sat down in front of you, handing you the present as he grabbed one of his own biscuits. “Because,” he said, in between bites “this is very important and urgent” he continued, giggling excitedly. You could tell from his tone that his voice was overly excited, almost acting, but you didn’t want to push him, not when he stared at you anxiously, eyes big and expectant like a puppy. His giggles were quickly replaced by sudden seriousness as soon as your hands started unwrapping the present carefully, not even wanting to ruin the package.

You were faced with a box, beautiful and cushioned, its surface gorgeously reminding you of wine nights with the company of the man who seemed not to be able to sit still in front of you. “Open it” he said, swallowing hard and nervously, leaning closer and closer with your every movement. You complied, your own curiosity threatening to jump out of your mouth, hands shaking as Charles’ own breath seemed almost irregular.

Inside it, you saw a delicate crystal, green, red and clear, in the shape of a plant. Not a plant – mistletoe. It glistened beautifully and its fragility fascinated you. It was beautiful, and you remained speechless as you examined it. “Charlie it’s-” you started, though you had no words to describe what you were feeling. Of course, the gift was absolutely mesmerizing, a small token that was impossible to not notice. Yet, you didn’t exactly know what it meant.

Charles gave you no time to think about it before he moved awkwardly, getting closer to you, closer than usual even for you two. “Listen, I… Do you want to hang it somewhere?” he said, the question so sudden, like a window that opened quickly and let all the cold wind inside the room. You looked into his eyes and found yourself still unable to speak, resorting to a simple nod as you got up, the box still resting in your hands, and he followed your movements.

You decided to hang it carefully in one of the tallest branches of your Christmas tree, where the lights hit beautifully and made it the centerpiece, stealing all the attention from the star at the top. “It’s beautiful” you finally managed to say, along with an earnest thank you, and you were about to turn back to the warm blanket when his fingertips stopped you by softly resting on your wrist.

“Wait,” he started, barely moving. All movement you could witness came from his nostrils as he exhaled deeply, his gaze completely focused on you. “I need to tell you something” he continued, looking up at the gift he had just given you. Following his gaze, you realized what he meant. “Oh. Oh this was for someone else- it’s fine Charlie mistakes happen-” you began, rising to your tiptoes in order to remove the ornament, almost laughing at your own silliness.

Once again that night, Charles stopped you, laughing warmly. “God, you’re so silly sometimes,” he told you, and despite the cold toned color of his eyes, they expressed such warmth it took your breath away. “No, this gift is for you. That’s what I mean,” he said, stumbling across his every word, “I gave you this because you’re the one I want to experience this with. The whole mistletoe kissing thing. Maybe this is silly…” his hand flew to his neck awkwardly, reminding you of when he was younger and in high school, trying to impress some girl he had a crush on.

You weren’t exactly sure what he meant, nor what it could mean for your friendship in general. But you were sure you wanted to experience that moment with him as well, feel him closer to you than you ever did, your every muscle begging you to act. “Do it then” you dared him, your own nervousness coming out. You thought about how silly it was, your nervousness, given how old you two were, how much you had witnessed together, the moment so out of the ordinary yet seemingly so predictable, as if it was destined to happen.

At that, Charles’ eyes widened, but his whole body went into action. His hand went to your cheek as the other pulled you by your waist, eyes falling on your lips as if everything moved in slow motion. You placed your own hands on his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat as his lips fell on yours, so soft and familiar despite how unknown it all was. The sudden smell of chestnuts and ginger intensified as the room seemed to transform, how despite the warmth you almost felt snow falling on both of your bodies. Charles couldn’t get enough of you, his hand going from your cheek to the back of your neck, begging you for more, for the moment to last for as long as possible.

Like a magnet, your own hands caressed and pulled his hair incessantly, reassuring him that you weren’t going anywhere, as his heartbeat stabilized in calmness and comfort in how well your lips fit on his. His closeness was intoxicating, and you felt dizzy from how good you were feeling with his sheer presence, how right everything seemed to feel, how effortlessly he got you in your best mood.

Pulling away, you saw a smile which you had rarely seen in Charles’ face. It happened at his most happiest moments – when he won races, when he beat you at rock paper scissors when you were kids, when he got the best scores in spelling bees – it reached every muscle in his body and yours, so contagious was his cheerfulness.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he said, giddy and red from shyness, looking so innocent all of a sudden, despite his grip still on your waist. “I’ve been so confused, especially since the last time I stayed over. No one can make me feel like you do, and this is so hard to explain, and I don’t know how it got to this point but I have been thinking about it every day, about how good I feel when I am with you, how I just get so incredibly happy and-” you quieted his rambling by giving him a shy peck on his lips, giggling at how he stood motionless after it, eyes widened and eyebrows raised.

“I love you too” you told him, meaning every word, anxiously looking forward for the rest of your life.

[fieldsofbats]

simon riley x waitstaff! reader : getting coffee

okie dokie, the second part of the waitstaff au bc i like it when authors have a reoccurring au and i write what i like to see from others. i am also open to exploring other peoples au’s and discussing ideas. i don’t like the idea of having requests because i don’t wanna put that pressure on myself but i want to work with people and explore lots of ideas i see from people. tl;dr, send me ur ideas but not requests.

part one, part two

ghost would take the longest to ask you out, like he is a confident man (have u heard his lines???) and isn’t afraid of confrontation or anything, just doesn’t like the idea of potentially ruining anything you guys have going because he has ~feelings~

would make sure to do it either after your shift or when it is very quiet and you are the only floor staff on, wants it to be the two of you in an open and casual environment

your comfort and feelings are of the utmost importance to him always thinking: “are they okay with his?” “i’m not over stepping?” “this is okay, right?”

personally strikes me as someone who needs verbal confirmation of others feelings.

he can read a battlefield no problems, can predict movements from a mile away. your feelings??? nah, dude has no clue and needs verbal reassurance, not that he would ask for it but is amazed when you figure that out yourself. ‘fuck they are literally made for me.’

i don’t think he could actually say the words ‘let’s go on a date’, strikes me as a ‘when r u free? Let’s do this…’ kinda person. 

would have the whole thing planned out though, has prepared himself for every possible response and outcome. thinks of it as a sort of mission. 

i like the idea that he did get advice from price (daddy)

it wouldn’t be the actual task of asking you out that freaks him a bit, but the uncontrollable factor of your response. 

he can’t plan for that so is anxious about what you might say or think, hence the over planning and the private obsessiveness.

BUT YOU SAID YES, “yeah, I finish my shift at 4, we could get a coffee or snack if you want?” YES WE CAN GET COFFEE “sounds good.” SOUNDS AMAZING.

waits out the front of the restaurant for you, has been waiting since 3.

figuring out who he should wait, wants to appear casual but wants you to think he is cool. leaning on his bike? no, a bit asshole-y. casually smoking? no, you might not like that. just standing? why does it fuckin’ matter?

oh shit here they come, fuck they look so nice in the sun light. 

you smile that sweet smile of yours to him and his knees buckle as he turns to face you fully. he grips the door jam so he doesn’t fall in front of you. He’s already fucked it. 

“where were you thinking?” you asked him, completely ignoring his near face plant into the pavement.

he directs you over to a close by coffee shop, you’ve been there before so wave politely to the staff and point to the best seats in the shop. he nods and follows to the back, a small semi-private nook at the back.

he thinks it went well, he tried to avoid the topic of his work and asked you as many questions as possible. but it wasn’t to the point you were talking the entire time.

he could feel himself blushing under his mask, the slightly larger surgical style mask reaching just under his eyes. He was thankful you didn’t push him to take the mask off or tell you his real name. 

you understood that military people have a lot they can’t share, particularly someone in SAS. those folks are intense and have extremely private lives. 

one coffee turned into two, a few biscuits turned into soup for dinner. then into being asked to leave by the owner. 

“oh sorry matt. thanks for putting up with us.” you laughed and began to pack up to leave. ghost, ever the gentleman, paid and you thanked him. 

“next one is on me.” NEXT ONE?! dudes heart near leaves his body and race through the street at illegal speeds. 

he nods and quickly walks out of the shop to hide his little shiver of excitement. you ask him about his bike (i fuckin love motorcycle men omg), something he is more than happy to chat about and explain to you. 

you patiently listen for about ten minutes before he notices he hasn’t taken a breath since he started. “sorry, I’m keeping you.”, you quickly shake your head

“i like hearing you talk, mostly about things you are passionate about.” omg he lov- likes you so much. 

he nods and looks away, hiding the massive blush that comes over his nose and cheeks. 

“i’ll see you next week ghost.” you smile and wave goodbye.

he waves back and whispers to himself “for the rest of my life darling.”

okay this is kind of shit but i have written this in one sitting in the evening. feedback is always welcome as well, be respectful though. i will probably come back and edit this but enjoy :)

[gordontheengineswifenirmal]

About the election and modern society’s woes -

First off, I don’t really know what to think about Joe Biden dropping out of the election. His speech was lackluster, n I wasn’t blown away by but it didn’t feel like it made the world crash around me either.

Sadly, so many folks out there can only think two ways u either love or hate something. This goes for Biden too. They think if I hate trump, i sump to automatically worship Biden. There’s no in between. It floors me that this lack of logic exists. These folks cannot fathom that u can simply be ok with a person. He’s ok to me. He didn’t do anything super mind blowing impressive, but he’s not bad either.

Now, getting back to the election - so many others thought differently. Ok, fine. Whatever. The next problem is, what will u replace him with? Will that be enough to save us from another 4 years of the tyrant? This is our REAL concern. I’ve heard folks celebrating Biden dropping out, but they celebrate too early. I’m not going to celebrate Biden dropping out, because that doesn’t concern me. I do feel he was forced, but I also wish him well. Whatever, this is less important to me.

IM AFRAID OF WHAT WE MAY WIND UP WITH.

At the same time, society (especially on the left admittedly - and I say this being a liberal, because godforbid ur critical of ur own….wing or whatever - ) is filled with -

And whilst this is definitely true, for most folks, that’s it. That’s all they can comprehend, all they can see in the argument, and it becomes a competition. If only it were that simple. Sadly these generalisations are equally dangerous. They employ the same attitude as the ‘there’s no in between’. This is the excuse folks apply when u r uncomfortable with immodesty. They right away think that u want folks covered head to toe in a burqua. (They’d b shocked to learn that some of us r fine with sleeveless tops n shorts, as long as they r like 6 inches above the knee, n tits, bellies, n genitals r covered!) There’s no asking or clarify, no willingness to listen to ur explanation. I get branded racist, misogynist, homophobic, or even worse, because they need to project. U hit a sore spot that they can’t handle. This goes for either side - not just liberal, not just conservative. The truth is that there is often more to the story. Not all women are innocent. Not all r guilty. Not all men r innocent, nor are all guilty either. I’m going to say this louder for those in the back -

ANY GENDER CAN COME INTO POWER AND ABUSE IT.

There has been in increase in a certain petty completion between sexes for ages now, n I’ve seen in for several decades already. One side is like ‘we’re the best n that’s it. They give flimsy, misguided, or sometimes no reasoning behind this. The other then reacts with the same tactics. It makes everyone look foolish. Neither side thinks of common sense nor respect. It’s a very entitled, privileged, and damn right delusional way to think. It’s sadly also an increasing sign of the times. It’s not new, but it’s definitely not going away, and becomes a more mainstream way to think. We ALL need to change for the better. Thank you for coming to me ted talk. Here’s Gordon lol

[jacenotjason]

hellooo!! helloo!! I have... I have TWO QUESTIONS!! 1. How would each of them react to someone being homophobic/transphobic towards them? 2. uhhh how would they react if they saw their parents? especially the ones that don't like/have never met parents (i was gonna put something else for the second one but uhhh i frogor uh oh)

OH BOY TWO QUESTIONS!! Ok lets all pray Tumblr doenst eat this its gonna be a lot

Ok first question, how would they react to someone being queerphobic to them?

Eddie: “mhm… sure…” he does not care. He deosnt really listen to people in the first place, the second you start trying to offend him he just tones you out. He does not give half a shit. Maybe if you keep talking.. a fuck will fall into his hand!

Poppy: being queerphobic to her?? Eh. Who cares. She lived through a homophobic cult and also bigoted parents, shes got tough skin. Being queerphobic to her children? PREPARE TO CATCH THESE TALONS BIIIITCH

Julie: absolutely roasts you. She takes one look at you and digs up your nastiest trauma some how. Like this “ew a girl dating a girl thats gay (idk how to be homophobic)” “? *looks up and down* okay? I didn’t ask, go tell your mom. Oh, wait shes dead isn’t she? And your father isn’t even present, he left when you were 6 and you had to rely on your Grandfathers homophobic ideology and your Grandmothers abuse. I don’t care what you have to think.” Then the homophobe just lays on the floor in the fetal position.

Sally: “196.251.208.6” get doxxed.

Frank: he just starts crying :( then he goes and tells Eddie and hes gonna stab you

(How do you even be homophobic to someone questioning??) Barnaby: “I know my identity isn’t the root of your anger.. come here, sit down, lets talk it out..” uuuh free therapy? He just summons tea bc all grandpas have the ability to just summon tea

Howdy: i actually have no idea. Ik hes sort of gotten this reputation as violent but hes- guys hes pathetic. He probably just laughs at them and shoos them away, maybe pull the gun from under the counter if he needs to

OK ooo o this ones a little less fun.. if they met their parents

Eddie: quick Eddie lore he was raised in joint custody, his parents hate each other so… uhm.. were getting the gang back together! He’d probably just sit with his face in his hands as his parents fight like “Ohmygod.. guys stop” they blame each other for how Eddie ended up and hes like “Im literally right here”

Poppy: shes long gotten over her fear of her parents. She’s happy and thats all that matters, she’ll happily tell off her parents like a GIRLBOSS YEAAAHHH happily explain how she escaped the cult they sent her too and how happy she is rn

Julie: uhm.. Julie’s parents are dead. Next question. Lmao ok but fr if she like.. came back to life she’d be so happy :3 she, and all the other joyfuls, were raised by a single mom and Julie got all her “men are trash, defend urself, never be afraid to punch a man” type ideology from her mom and her mom was super accepting and she misses herrr :((

Sally: now you may think Sally has a terrible relationship with her parents.. but she doesnt :3 shes unable to see her mom (for agoraphobic, mental health, and also legal reasons) but she loves her a lot. Her mom did sort of raise her in shitty conditions, but Sally doesn’t blame her at all and misses her a lottt wah

Frank: no

Barnaby: ooohh no… so uuh lore for those that dont know, Barnaby’s parents gave him up to the “”””boarding school”””” when he was four and he doesnt remember them. He’d probably be happier then he should to meet them, but most definitely get gaslit by his parents :( like they have what Barnaby thinks is a normal conversation but really isnt.. someone stop it q-p

Howdy: he fuckin loves his dad!! And all his family!!! And he sees them regularly, so itd just be a normal visit

AAA big post ee

Also tumblr didnt eat it thank u tumblr

[thewalkingwillowtree]

His Fierce Flower

Series Part Listing Found Here

BF2L, Slow Burn - Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Neteyam and Enyu, childhood best friends are both obliviously in love with each other. This is their story.

Important to note before reading:

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam is 22.

En'yuna or Enyu for short (pronounced as N Yunna or N U), is my own creation.

Full recognition, rights and credit is given to the owners of Avatar.

~

PART 6 - Open

“Open.” 

Enyu mindlessly chewed on the berry Neteyam fed her while she focused on the tablet in her hands. 

“Open.” He fed her another. 

She sat cross-legged on the floor of one of the food storage tents, conducting inventory on a few racks of cured meat that came from the smokehouses that morning. 

What was supposed to be a simple task turned out to be a much bigger issue. Many of the other items in the tent had not been catalogued nor organized. The tent was in complete disarray- not to mention the mess of data she was currently looking at. 

Meanwhile Neteyam, who had completed his patrol all of last night and also already managed to have an early morning training session, had the rest of the day off. As per his usual routine, he tracked her down and decided to keep her company until they could go do something “more fun”. His words, not hers.

“Open,” he repeated. He was laid stretched out on his back, ankles crossed with his head comfortably resting in the well of her folded legs, feeding- or more like sneaking her berries from the bowl balanced on his chest. 

“Open.”

“Mmpff-'Tey, you have to at least let me chew first,” she spluttered, grasping his wrist. “And I told you already, I’ll eat when I’m done here. I still have a lot to do. Also, you promised to not distract me if I let you stay.” 

Enyu knew it was a futile promise. At first he was quietly sitting in a corner- as agreed, sharpening his knife then whittling a piece of bark. And then the next thing she knew he was nestled in the cradle of her legs, trying to force feed her. 

Ever since their little “misunderstanding” a little over a month ago, he’d been extremely apologetic. It also seemed as if their friendship shifted a bit as well- for the better she would say. They'd seemed to be further attached to each other lately.

She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but he seemed even more attentive and affectionate than usual- which she just chalked up to be that he’d been afraid of losing their friendship and was now trying to compensate. They’d never fought like that before and she was just as glad as he that they were fine again. 

He released an annoyed sigh. “Flower. You haven’t eaten anything for the day.” He tried to sneak another berry past her lips which she took, but in retaliation she nipped his fingertips and, still staring at her work, ignored his cry of protest. “Why are you even doing all this anyway? Isn’t this Väriä’s job?”

“Yes, but I’m covering for her. Which is good because this whole thing is messed up and I doubt she’d be able to fix it since judging by these last entries- was all her fault in the first place.” She frowned at the tablet in her hand then looked up at the items stacked around the tent.

The humans they lived with had shared their technology with the Na’vi over the years. While the warriors were taught to use their weapons; guns and communication devices to name a few, they also influenced other areas of the clan. 

The clan's food inventory, for one, had been computerized- and so new roles were created. Inventory clerks was the human term for it and Väriä somehow was lucky to have gotten one of the spots. 

It was a simple enough job and Enyu enjoyed it whenever she was asked to help out. All fresh meat, dried meat, fresh fish, dried fish, fresh fruit, dried fruit, herbs, spices- basically everything coming in and anything going out was recorded.

Even though technically Enyu’s permanent role in the clan was “harvester,” she- like Neteyam had taken on many other responsibilities over time. When the humans had introduced the inventory system some years back, she was so fascinated that she volunteered to cover shifts in her free time. 

Inventory was overseen by one of the Elder Chief Officials who ensured that the clan was sufficiently provided for while still making conscious efforts to not waste what was given onto them by Eywa. It was why every person in the clan had their part to play. No job was more important than the next. And sure some Na’vi saw some roles as being “above others” but if it weren’t for those “lesser roles” as they so liked to call it, there would be no balance. 

“Why are you covering for her again? That’s like the sixth time in two weeks! What’s she even doing?” Neteyam asked while grasping her wrist with a frown, so that she paid full attention to him.

“It’s only been the fifth time and I don't know, you know she never tells me anything. My tent mates think she’s actually being courted- well except for F’vailii. She thinks she’s just dodging her duties and off sunbathing or combing her hair somewhere.”  

“Courting. Really?” he asked, shifting his head to see her face better. “Huh... But she’s so… vile. If it is courting, I wish whoever the poor soul is, good luck,” he snorted, while twisting the ends of her hair with his other hand. 

Enyu glanced down at his face. “Yeah you laugh now but was it not just last month that she had her eyes set on you? That could’ve been your poor soul. What was it she’d say again? Oh yes, “Ohhh Neteyam can you come help me lift these heavy baskets? Ohh, you’re so strong, what would I have done without you Neteyam! Neteyam can mpff-” Enyu, mimicking Väriä’s sultry annoying voice was cut short when he reached up and stuffed another berry in her mouth to shut her up. 

For good measure, he flicked her forehead playfully. “Har har har. Not funny. That’s a very scary thought and I’d rather we not talk about it. Seriously though, why hasn’t anyone reported her to the Chief Official, yet? I’m sure she wouldn’t be pleased to hear what Väriä’s been doing. She could do something about it.” 

Enyu swallowed her bite and shrugged. “Like you said, 'Tey, she’s vile. No one wants to cross her. She’s untouchable anyway you take it- being the niece of one of the council members. I’ve seen her use it as a shield and get away with a lot of crap no other Na’vi’d be able to since I’ve been living with her.” 

Neteyam hummed, thinking. She flicked his forehead knowingly then tilted his chin so he’d look at her again. “Don't even think about telling anyone. I live with her, remember?” 

“My dad could help. Their next council meeting is in the-” 

She smacked her palm on his chest, halting him. “That’s even worse than telling the Chief Official!” she cried. “Can you imagine they’re having a council meeting, and your dad goes, “Oh right, your niece is being a little bitch to her roommates. Can you tell her to stop?” Please don’t say anything to your parents. It’ll be fine.” 

“Bitch?” he questioned amusedly, his hand mindlessly moving to intertwine their fingers on his chest instead. “You need to stop hanging out with my brother.” 

“Actually, I got that one from Kiri,” she said proudly.

“Her too then,” he said seriously. “How about you just stop hanging out with my entire family then, hmm? They’re just corrupting you anyway. It’ll be great for me! No more Tuk hogging you the whole time.” He smiled wishfully, as if it were the best idea in the entire world.

“Yeah, that’s not happening. I already miss them a lot right now. My schedule’s been crazy lately.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, I wonder why.” He said it so sarcastically that it came out bitter instead. “Shit. I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly. “I didn't mean it like that... Can we just- not talk about him?” 

“Fine. Alright.” She squeezed their entwined fingers reassuringly. “Back to the topic at hand then. I didn’t hear any agreement, 'Teyam- about not telling your parents.”

“Yes, alright. Fine! I won’t say anything to my parents about the fact that your roommate has been slacking off and making you do all of her work which is preventing you from spending any time with me-” he spat, sneering at the piece of technology she'd just put down as if it offended him. “But, only if you stop to finish this,” he said, raising the bowl toward her with a hopeful smile. 

She snickered at his dramatics but took it from him and placed it to the side shaking her head. “After,” she responded.

He groaned peevishly and rolled around restlessly, laying onto his stomach. “You are frustrating, woman!” he exclaimed, sounding very much like that one time she heard Jake addressing his wife during an argument. “How much longer? I’m sooo bored. Ugh!” His complaint was muffled into the inside of her thigh, so she grabbed the braids at the back of his head to see his face again. 

“You know, I don’t come and bug you when you’re out on a hunt or patrol and whine and complain that you’re taking too long. You don’t have to stay. You’re acting like I’m holding you hostage.” 

“Well maybe you should, come bug me. It’d be a lot better if you were there. And I’m quite happy where I am right now, thank you very much,” he shot back, with a naughty grin before snuggling back into her thigh and gripping her ankle. “Now shhh, my lack of sleep from last night is catching up to me. Can you do that thing to my back, please?” 

“Oh, now I'm the one bothering you? 'Teyam, I’m supposed to be working!”

That meant nothing to him it seemed because the next thing she knew, his tail sailed around blindly before finding and wrapping around her wrist, guiding it to his back in silent demand. 

She scoffed at his antics but being unable to say no to him, she glanced at her forgotten tablet then turned to focus on the needy Na’vi before her. 

She soothed and scratched his back for a little while before moving his hair aside and began to knead the tense muscles from his neck to as far down his back she could reach, then back up again. He groaned in contentment, squeezing her ankle appreciatively at her ministrations, causing her to bite her lip at the sounds he was making. His grunts and moans and sighs sparked something inside her.

Neteyam’s back was well defined and toned from all his training. His skin, soft yet hot to the touch felt sinful beneath her hands as her nimble fingers moved over and over his body, working out all the kinks and knots they could find. 

“Enyu,” he growled breathlessly, sounding like he was falling into a pit of pleasure. She inhaled at the sound of his raspy voice and gasped when he bit into the flesh of her thigh when she rubbed a particular spot too deeply.

Eventually, after a while of working the muscles on his back, she shakily sat up straight, slowly removing her hands from him, deciding that that was enough for the day. There was an unfamiliar coil inside her that had come to life, fluttering in parts of her that were private, and she was very unsure on what to do about it. 

Feeling breathless and a tad light headed, Enyu stared at the Na’vi in her lap who had fallen asleep. She’d given him many massages before but none had quite affected her like that. Had he felt it too? She shook her head. Maybe she was getting sick?

While he dozed, she was able to get a lot completed without any interruptions. She just couldn’t move, unfortunately. The actual tent organization would have to be done later but for now she focused on fixing the data.

An hour and a half later however, she heard a rustle and looked up to see Neytiri enter the tent, pausing at the scene her son and his friend displayed. 

Enyu froze also, her ears perked with alertness, one finger stilled, hovering over the tablet. Glancing down, she blushed furiously when she paid attention to her and Neteyam’s current and extremely intimate position. First Jake, now Neytiri? Was she being punished by Eywa?

Neytiri moved gracefully into the tent. “Hello, Enyu. Kiri said that I would find you here. I see you have company already though,” she mused as she observed the stock surrounding them. She peeked into a few of the crates and baskets curiously- sniffing approvingly at the smell of the smoked meats, and then, eventually sat across Enyu on the blanketed floor. 

“Hi, yes… he kind of- fell asleep,” she responded a bit sheepishly. 

Even though Enyu had known Neytiri all her life- having grown up alongside her children and fortunate enough to have been one of the few who got to see inside the private lives of the clan’s leaders- their softer sides, Enyu was still very much still intimidated by her best friend’s mother. Jake and Neytiri had been nothing but kind to her all her life and though she knew they weren’t her parents, she found herself constantly seeking their approval. 

Neytiri’s eyes fell on her son again, who was lost to the world. His cheek was squished against Enyu’s thigh, mouth ajar with a little drool trickling down and his hand was now wrapped around her tail. His own tail was spasming now and then in his sleep. 

Enyu bit her lip nervously. She knew that the mother was extremely protective of her children. She remembered how long it had taken her to warm up to Kiri’s "friend" Spider. Years! It had taken years. She knew Neytiri and Jake approved of her friendship with Neteyam, but lately she’d been a bit awkward around them ever since her conversation with Lo’ak and Kiri a while back, about the whole “mate” thing. 

His mother snickered. “He’s always slept with his mouth open like that since he was a baby. He snores too sometimes.” They both giggled quietly at her revelation. 

Enyu looked down and couldn’t help tucking away a stray braid behind his twitching ear and when she raised her head again, Neytiri was watching them with a soft fondness. Her eyes though- held a hopeful expression but when she shook her head as if shaking her thoughts away, it was gone. 

“Is everything alright?” Enyu asked.

“Yes.” Neytiri smiled. “I haven’t been seeing you lately, so I had to track you down myself. I only came to say that I am taking Tuk and Kiri to the valley in the morning to pick éveshik for the Eywa prayer tomorrow night. Would you like to go with us?” 

The younger Na’vi’s jaw dropped a fraction at the offer, lips tugging upward. “I would love to. Thank you.” Even after all these years, she still felt touched when the Sully’s wanted to include her in their family activities. 

“Good. Kiri said you can fly with her… So… Is my son behaving? He’s not bothering you is he?”

“No,” Enyu replied almost too quickly. “I like having him around.” She couldn’t help but be honest about it. This seemed to please Neytiri because she smiled in response.

“Have you recovered from your kidnapping? I hope that is not why you have been avoiding us lately. My Jake said you seemed quite mortified at being caught.”

“Oh Eywa…” Enyu mentally face-palmed, unable to control her blush. “Yes. No! I- well it wasn’t- we,” she blew out a breath to compose herself, “we had a bit of miscommunication and I’ve just been busy lately, is all- not avoiding any of you, I promise… Your son can be very-”

“Passionate? Yes, he can be. I know my son. He is so like his father. They are very protective over their-” she seemed to think for a moment, “most precious belongings. They do not like to share,” Neytiri emphasized, eyes squinting with hidden something. She nodded towards her sleeping son. “He clings to you as if you would disappear.” 

Enyu huffed and grinned a little. “I’ve grown used to the clinging. Although it seems to have gotten worse lately. We’re working on the sharing part- though I don’t think we’ve gotten far since he’s been like this since we were children.”

Neytiri chuckled at the fact that Enyu did not get her meaning. “Yes, I remember. My husband has this saying about you two, “thick as thieves”, it means never one without the other.”

Momentarily distracted, Neytiri glanced at her forgotten tablet and then at the harvest stock surrounding them, realization gracing her face. “Have you been doing all this on your own? Where is the Na’vi who should be on shift?”

“Uh- yes? It’s not that much though, really. I can manage,” Enyu said, biting her lip.

Raising a brow, Neytiri responded, “This looks like two day’s work, Enyu.” 

Saved from answering, the loud screech of an ikran roused Neteyam from his nap. He rolled onto his back, his head falling back into the cradle of Enyu’s legs as he stretched and yawned loudly. Blinking up at his friend and rubbing sleep from his eyes, he smiled sleepily and tugged on one of her braids. “Hey, how long have I been out? You finally finished yet, Flower?” he asked cheekily, voice deep and raspy. 

“Good morning or shall I say good evening?” 

At the sound of his mother’s teasing voice, Neteyam scrambled off Enyu’s lap, almost comically. Sitting up, he wiped the drool trail from the corner of his mouth, wide eyes taking in her presence.

“Mother. Mom, hey.” He shifted awkwardly then shot Enyu a look that clearly read, “Why didn’t you wake me?”

Neteyam, as if suddenly realizing something horrifying, looked suspiciously between the two women. “What are you two up to?” 

“Bah! Nothing. We have just been talking. Can I not talk to Enyu without you always intervening or accusing me of something?” his mother cried. 

“Yes of course. I- I was just...wondering,” he said, clearly lying. The truth was Neteyam hated leaving his mother and Enyu alone. When he was a teenager, he walked in on his mother giving Enyu a very detailed explanation about why he was being more “cranky” than usual, citing that his, “body was changing and he was turning into an adult Na’vi now- becoming a man.” Another time, he overheard her telling his best friend that he peed his bed until he was five. He was mortified! Only Eywa knows what other embarrassing shit his mother had said about him. 

As if sensing his untruth and wanting to teach her son a lesson, Neytiri turned and asked Enyu about his most hated topic ever. “So Enyu, I’ve been meaning to ask you about your tutelage. I figured that’s why you’ve been so busy lately. How is your student- Yaćksön, was it?” 

Neteyam’s jaw ticked and his nose flared in irritation. He hung his head and massaged his temple while trying to drown out Enyu’s excited chitter chatter with his mother on said disliked topic. He sighed, whatever tension Enyu had worked out on his muscles was back again- tenfold this time. 

After Enyu’s explanation to him about Yaćksön a month ago, Yaćksön went before the council and his father with his confession. He was stripped of his title and position and given a two year sentence of ikran excrement collection duty. On top of that, he officially chose his “new position” for training as a harvester and to Netayam's displeasure, the fool asked Enyu to be his tutor.

To say that Neteyam disliked this new development was putting it mildly. At first he didn’t seem to mind, this was a great opportunity for his best friend. She always liked teaching and was very excited about officially being a tutor. She used to practise her teaching skills on Neteyam when they were younger, since it was her dream job. 

After observing the two returning with the other harvesters one evening however, he saw something that made his blood boil. Yaćksön was flirting with his best friend.

Enyu had laughed off his observation when he told her and her response of course, was that he was “just being nice to her.” He knew the fool though, Neteyam wasn’t stupid. Lo’ak and Spider had to both physically restrain him from going over and causing a scene when he’d first seen them.

Neteyam looked around the tent, refusing to take part in their conversation. His eyes caught sight of the still full berry bowl next to Enyu and he became even more agitated. Was she seriously trying to kill him with her stubbornness?

“Mother, I’m sorry to interrupt but-” Neteyam said, interrupting their discussion and leaning closer to Enyu. “You still have not eaten anything,” he hissed quietly at her. 

“Neteyam, don’t be rude,” she chided quietly as well, eyes glancing at his mother.

“Enyu! How do you forget to do something like eating? Eating!” Neteyam scolded. “You frustrate me woman. Honestly.” He leaned over her to pick up the bowl, deposited it on her lap and gave her a look that said, “Eat.”

Neytiri’s gaze bounced between the two, quite entertained. She bit down a smile when she saw Enyu pinch her son in the side for the scene he was causing but still yet she obeyed and took a bite of the fruit.

“Well, it is getting late, I should go pick up Tuk from her afternoon class. Enyu will we be seeing you tonight? My mother is making that fish you like,” Neytiri asked while getting to her feet. 

“I’ll be there,” Enyu responded with a smile. 

“And this mess,” said Neytiri gesturing to the stock around them. “I expect that you leave it to be taken care of by the Na’vi responsible for its state in the first place.” Neytiri had her no nonsense expression on now and Enyu nodded in obedience.

“Yes ma’am,” she said respectfully. 

And with that Neytiri bid them goodbye and then the two were alone again.

“That’s it? Yes ma’am? Why do you agree so quickly with her but yet I have to get a lecture every time about how I’m “nagging you too much?”

Enyu pushed a handful of berries in her mouth to refrain from answering, smiling sweetly at him through her mouthful. 

“Oh now you want to eat, huh?” he teased, grinning at her overstuffed cheeks. 

'Gosh she’s beautiful.'

~

Jelly Tey back at it again! And it seems like mama Sully approves.

Anywhooo as always:

I'm sorry if there were any errors.

Please reblog, like and let me know if you enjoyed it in the comments :)

Take care for now.

@love13tter @behindthearcane

[dragonfries12]

Y’all ate up my last Regretevator posts, so here’s some more!

Party Beetle Fanfic (Title Pending) - Part 1

Blue text is italics, red text is Folly being creepy (bold), pink text is dreams/flashbacks.

Pest leaned against the wall of the regretevator with his arms folded. Across from him, a white-plated robot was fiddling with some piece of technology foreign to him. Music was playing quietly, backed by the hum of the elevator as it traversed the infinite expanse of floors. Pest wasn’t headed anywhere in particular. On days when he had nothing to do he’d see where the regretevator took him and go from there. Today was one of those days.

Ding! Pest turned his head as the elevator doors slid open to reveal the very subway he’d come from only a half an hour before. Tunes from the nearby jukebox wafted into the elevator for a moment before being interrupted by the distinct sound of a party horn. God damn it. As expected, the noise was soon followed by the appearance of a fluffy-haired robloxian in a party hat.

“Poob!” The robot exclaimed as they entered the elevator.

“Hi Prototype!” They replied, walking over the far corner next to Pest’s, “Happy National Cheese Day!”

“National Cheese Day? That’s today?”

“Mhm!” Poob nodded their head eagerly, “I’d offer you some to celebrate, but I guess you can’t eat, can you? You can though!” Pest winced as Poob turned to him and offered up a tupperware full of various cheeses. “Want some?”

“I’ll pass,” Pest hissed.

“Alright!” Poob placed the cheese back in their sticker-covered bag, unfazed.

“I didn’t even know there was a national cheese day,” Prototype said, “and I have a database for basically everything!”

“There’s national days for pretty much everything,” Poob replied, “Tomorrow is national donut day. I need to go buy some today, then I’m meeting Infected for his anniversary of getting his apartment!”

“Oh wow! How do you remember all these dates?”

“I try my best for my friends. Also I have three calendars.” Poob turned to face Pest once again, “Speaking of anniversaries, it’s our meetiversary tomorrow!”

Pest scowled, “Our what?”

“Our meetiversary!” They shouted, “The anniversary of when we first met, silly! Remember when you-”

They were cut off as the elevator slammed to a halt with a loud crash. Red light bled in as the doors slid open and Pest cursed under his breath.

“Hello.” The voice slithered into the elevator as the entrance was blotted out by an enormous shadow. The dream parasite, Pest thought with disgust. The figure — Folly — gripped the edges of the doorway as she pushed herself into the elevator, black fog trailing behind her. She took her place in the remaining corner of the elevator, claws folded neatly behind her back, and surveyed the now silent group with a glowing, red eye. Her gaze bore into Pest as it passed over him and he held it in defiance. You don’t scare me, parasite.

“U-um, happy National Cheese Day!” Poob stuttered, “Do you want some cheese?” Folly’s eye slid over to them, then down to the platter of cheese.

She chuckled, “A National Day for a simple food? How charming. I’m afraid I don’t consume things the same way you do, though.”

“Oh, okay then. . .” Poob replaced the cheese in their bag, avoiding Folly’s burning gaze. The elevator dinged once more as the doors opened to a mansion of cardboard. “I think this is my stop,” Poob said quickly as they started towards the doors.

“I thought you were going to the infected one’s apartment?” Folly asked with mock confusion.

Poob stopped and looked back with concern, “Um, how’d you know that?”

“You dreamt about it last night.”

“I don’t really like when you do that. . .” Poob mumbled as they shrank back into their corner.

“How else am I to get answers?” Folly inquired. “Of course,” she took a step forward, “you could always provide them verbally. Or perhaps,” she took another step, towering over Poob, “I could pry them out myself.”

Pest shifted a step to the right, placing himself in Folly’s peripheral. Instantly, her gaze sliced through the air and stabbed into him, sending a shiver down his spine. Though she had no visible mouth, he could see a grin in her eye.

“However, I’ll refrain,” she said as she stepped back into her corner. Pest slid back into his own corner, ignoring the glances Poob was casting at him. A suffocating silence settled over the elevator for a moment until Prototype finally broke it.

“If you like learning things,” they offered tentatively, “my friend sells floppy disks with all kinds of information.”

Folly turned towards the robot with an unnaturally casual demeanor, as though Poob wasn’t still shaking across from her, “Ah yes, the computer. I’ve perused her wares, but I much prefer books.”

“Oh really? Why’s that? I’ve heard some people like the smell. . .” Pest tuned out the rest of their conversation, instead turning his focus to Poob.

“Why’s she so obsessed with you?”

“Oh um,” they sputtered, “I dunno. . .maybe all my parties and stuff are really attention grabbing?”

“Hm,” he hummed and turned away. Pest knew there had to be more to it than that, but if Poob really was hiding something, they weren’t going to reveal it.

Folly and Prototype’s conversation continued for a few more floors until the doors opened to what appeared to be a volcanic island.

“Well,” Folly spoke, “this is my stop. So nice chatting with you all,” she paused, halfway out the door, and her slitted, yellow pupil landed on Pest, “See you soon.” The doors shut just as she poofed into a swirl of dark fog, though her laughter echoed in the elevator for a few moments after. Great, Pest thought sarcastically. Folly’s last statement had been more than a goodbye; it was a promise.

* * *

Pest opened his eyes to an inky abyss. He’s known since Folly left the elevator that he wouldn’t be getting a good sleep that night, though the void still unnerved him. Sure enough, he was greeted by a familiar voice, echoing from behind him.

“Hello, bug.”

“What do you want?” He spat.

“I think you already know,” Folly teased.

“I’ve already told you, I don’t know any more about them than you do, so leave me alone.”

“Oh, but you could know things, if you wanted to. They trust you.”

A low hiss escaped between Pest’s gritted teeth as he turned to face the giant, red eye he knew was floating behind him, “Yeah, well, I don’t want to, so piss off!”

Folly’s disembodied voice chuckled, “Is that so? You seemed so worried about them today. . .”

Pest’s anger rose, as did his voice, “I could care less if Poob keeled over tomorrow, but I’ll be damned if I let you be the one to do it. What were you even doing in the elevator? I know you can just appear wherever you want.”

“Don’t you like to people-watch sometimes?”

Pest’s anger gave way to exhaustion, “Fine. Whatever. Go make everyone uncomfortable. But I don’t have any information, so you can go invade someone else’s privacy.”

“Don’t be so sure, bug.”

Pest’s ears began to ring and he lunged towards the eye, “Don’t you-” the ground disappeared beneath him and he was suddenly falling deeper and deeper into the abyss.

Pest carefully gripped the windowsill as he slipped into the dark house. It wasn’t often he robbed a house — he much preferred pickpocketing — but he needed more regretevator tickets and this was the best way to find them in bulk. Gently sliding the window shut, he crept into the house’s living room and began rummaging through drawers.

Without warning, the room suddenly exploded with blaring music as Pest stumbled over a stereo.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, sh-”

“Hello?”

Pest slowly turned to see a bleary eyed person in starry, purple pajamas staring at him in confusion.

His heart sank as tried to stutter out an excuse, “Th-this isn’t what it looks like!”

“Really?” The person accused, “because to me, this looks exactly like you’re throwing me a surprise party!”

All of Pest’s panic was instantly replaced with confusion, “What?”

“Don’t play dumb!” They scolded, wagging a finger, “I know a party when I see one! Oh, I guess I just spoiled the surprise part though. That’s okay, now I can help set it up! I’m Party Noob by the way, but you can call me Poob! I guess you must already know that, actually, if you’re throwing me a party.”

Pest slowly shook Poob’s hand, still dumbfounded, “I’m. . .Pest. . .”

“Nice to meet you Pest! You want something to drink? What’s your favourite? I probably have it.”

“Uhhh, tree sap?”

“Oh, okay, gimme one minute!” Pest watched them rush away through the house as he stood in the middle of the room, still in shock. How did I get away with that? He thought incredulously. After a moment, he began to wander the room, taking in the unique decor. On one wall, an absurd amount of pictures were hanging, each depicting Poob with different people. Are they friends with literally everyone?

“I’m back!” Poob shouted, “Here you go!” They held out a glass of thick liquid, which was also coating their hands. They actually got me tree sap? Pest took the glass and stared down at his reflection. He squinted at the image, there was something off about it — something red glowed behind him. Something that looked like eyes and sounded like vicious laughter.

Pest’s eyes flew open. He lay still on his stolen mattress, processing his surroundings. Slowly, he collected his thoughts and his anger began to boil once more.

“God damn parasite,” he muttered. He pulled himself out of bed and stared at his clock: 5:48am. The subway would still be empty at this hour. Grabbing a cigarette and a lighter and throwing on his hoodie, Pest slunk out of his home in a forgotten room of the subway and made his way towards the platform where the regretevator was located.

When he arrived, he slumped down on a bench and lit his cigarette. He took a slow, deep inhale, then watched the smoke swirl as he breathed it out. As much as he pretended it didn’t bother him, he missed being able to sleep without a dream demon invading his mind. Maybe one day she’ll run out of memories to sift through and she’ll finally leave me alone.

Crunch!

Pest whipped his head around, looking for the source of the sound. No one should be at this stop this early; there weren’t any trains until 7am. Just as he began to get up, an arm wrapped around his neck and pinned him against the bench. Panic ignited his nerves and he bit down on the arm as hard as he could. He heard a shout from behind him and turned to see his attacker, only to be met with a fist. Air rushed past his face as he flew back. His head slammed against the ground and pain exploded in his skull. The edges of his vision blurred as he watched a shadowy figure sprint away, Pest’s wallet in hand. The last thing he heard was the ding of the regretevator before slipping into darkness.

* * *

Pest awoke to a throbbing headache. He slowly peeled open his eyes and let them adjust to the dim light. Where the hell am I? He carefully rolled over and took in his surroundings. He was on a couch with a foldout table in front of it, surrounded by striped wallpaper. Poob’s house?! Pest pushed himself up too quickly and had to lean back for a moment to let the pounding in his head subside to a tolerable level. He put his hand to his head and felt a bandage on his forehead.

“Oh! You’re awake!”

Pest leaned forward — slowly, this time — to look at the person who had just entered the room, “Poob?”

“Oh good, no amnesia then.”

“Why- how did I get here?”

“Oh, um,” Poob set down the cup and plate he was carrying on the table, “I kind of. . . carried you.”

“What? Why didn’t you call Dr. Retro or something?”

“Oh. I didn’t really think of that. I saw you bleeding on the ground and panicked a bit. What happened?”

“Got mugged,” Pest hissed, turning his empty pockets inside-out.

“Oh. . .” There was a moment of heavy silence until Pest finally looked at what was on the table. There was a plate of buttered toast and a glass of water.

“That’s for you.”

“I gathered that,” Pest sneered. He picked up the glass and downed half of it, then took a bite of the toast. “What time is it?”

“3pm.”

Pest nearly choked, “3pm?!”

“You were unconscious for a really long time,” Poob laughed timidly, “I was starting to get a little worried.”

Pest swallowed the last of his toast and began to push himself up off the sofa, “Whatever, I’m going home.”

“Wait! Careful!” Poob’s warning came too late. Pest instantly became light-headed and stumbled on the Twister mat on the ground. Poob hooked their arms under his elbows as he fell back, guiding him back to the couch. “You should maybe rest for a bit.”

“Yeah,” Pest grunted through gritted teeth, waiting for his headache to become manageable.

“Maybe I should call Dr. Retro. . .”

“No, I’m fine,” Pest protested as Poob reached for a phone, “I just need a minute.” The last thing he needed was someone else knowing he had been found knocked out in the subway by Poob of all people.

“Okay. . . if you’re sure,” Poob said hesitantly, “but I’m still gonna get you some medicine.”

Pest listened to them rummage through cupboards while he leaned back with his eyes closed. Poob handed him two pills, which he swallowed with the rest of his water.

“Do you wanna watch a show or something?” Poob offered.

“Sure.”

“Okay. . .” Poob picked up the remote for the TV sitting across from them and slowly sat down on the opposite end of the couch, “What do you wanna watch?”

“I don’t care,” he said with exasperation. He hated that he was here, forced to sit on a couch with the most annoying person in the world. Even so, if Poob hadn’t been there, there was a good chance Pest would be dead. Whatever, I only have to be here until my headache goes away. I can tolerate them for that long.

The time began to slip away from him, however, as they sat watching episode after episode of a surprisingly good show. Pest only realised that the medication had long since kicked in when Poob pulled a pizza out of the oven for dinner. He thought about getting up to leave, but the smell of the pizza held him in place. No point in passing up free food.

“Here you go!” Poob said cheerfully, setting a plate of cheese pizza in front of him.

“Mmph,” Pest grunted through a mouthful of mozzarella. They watched another episode while they ate, then had sugar cookies for dessert. When he was finished, Pest was about to leave when something occurred to him. Poob had found him in the subway at 5am. What the hell were they doing at the subway that early? Pest turned to Poob and asked.

“Oh, um. . .” Poob twiddled their thumbs, “looking for you. . .”

“What? Why?”

“Today’s our meetiversary, remember?”

“No,” Pest grumbled, getting up from the couch, “Anyway, my head feels better. I’m leaving.”

“Wait!” Poob stood up, “Are you sure?”

Pest turned back in confusion, “Yes? I’m not collapsing, am I?”

“Maybe we should call Dr. Retro. You might have a concussion or something.”

“I’m sure I can make it home and call her just fine from there.”

“But wait, what if-”

“But what?” Pest snarled, “Why do you keep making excuses?”

Poob fidgeted with their hands for a moment, then said in a voice that was barely audible, “Because I don’t want you to leave. . .”

Pest stood there for a moment, taken aback. Then, he stomped toward Poob until he was close enough to grab them by the collar.

“Did you drag me all the way to your house for some playdate?” He spat.

“What? N-no!” Poob sputtered, “No! I really did wanna help! It’s just, now that you’re here. . .I really like spending time with you.”

Pest stared down at them with disgust, “Really? Every time I see you, all I do is ignore you and you want to hang out with me? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I- I just-”

“You what?” Pest yanked Poob up until they were standing on their tiptoes, “Spit it out!”

“I like you!”

Pest loosened his grip, staring in shock, “What?”

Tears had begun to form at the corners of Poob’s eyes as they looked away nervously, “I like you. A lot.”

All ability to speak abandoned Pest. Poob chanced a glance back at him and he could do nothing but meet their gaze. Though much looser now, he was still clutching Poob’s hoodie, holding their face less than a foot away from his. The paused TV flooded the room with purple light. Pest tightened his grip on Poob’s collar once more and pulled him in so their faces were only inches apart.

Then, he kissed them.

Next

[tinybuttonbugbox]

on the ice ⭑.ᐟ

bokuakakuro x reader ice skating date <3

a/n. i hope u enjoy!

warnings: none :3

wc: ~800

as an ice skater, you take pride in being agile

at least, on ice

when you’re off the ice, you’re constantly being pampered, preened, and smothered by your boyfriends 

it’s hard to be artistically agile when you have two man-babies hanging off of you and another one holding your hand

though it was endearing, it also got a bit much

date nights were always volleyball related, which you had no problem with, but it became a bit much sometimes 

on your last “date” -they dragged you to watch a karasuno vb game- you asked them if you could plan the next date

about a week later akaashi had the wonderful idea to take you guys to an ice skating rink

something in your element 

- he’s such a thoughtful boyfriend, i- -

so you guys get to the rink and the boys are tying up their skates

well

akaashi is tying his skates

kuroo is trying to get his foot in them

and bokuto forgot to bring socks

-that man is in a sandals phase and everybody hates it but him-

you ask akaashi to help kuroo out and walk bo over to the gift shop

he’s all apologetic like “baby, i’m sorry!” but then adds something stupid like “socks just don’t match my swag” 

-he’s right and he has the right to say it-

n e ways

once you’re on the actual ice, your mind starts to slip away

music that isn’t there starts to swirl in your head, aiding your movement

your legs are moving on their own as your arms extend slightly 

your body is flowing and your skates are gliding over the ice just right

once you’ve found a speed that you’re comfortable with, you shift your body weight to your right leg-- left still hovering close to the ground

making sure your right leg is stable, you begin to lean forward and bring your left leg up to float behind you

loosening your body and checking your surroundings, you bring your left leg down and use that momentum to jump off the ground and spin in the air, then land back on your skates

to be honest, the landing was a little rocky, but the immediate cheers that followed cause you to pay no mind to it

after making a full round across the rink, you skid to a stop in front of your boyfriends

bokuto is slackjawed, his hands reaching out to hold yours 

-he’s barely keeping balance. lowkey reaches to you because he’s about to fall-

“y/n! wh- how did you?”

“they’ve obviously skated before,” kuroo smirks. he turns to face akaashi, who had a smug aura surrounding him. “cheeky bastard.”

you smile brightly and support bokuto’s weight

“to the ice?”

bokuto looks at you wearily 

he holds onto your forearms because he’s afraid of falling

you’re skating backwards and telling him to just trust himself

akaashi skates alongside bokuto, holding kuroo’s hand, who is far less stable

while akaashi’s technique is a bit questionable, the way that kuroo’s ankles were bent outwards showed that you needed to teach the oafs how to actually balance

bokuto is clinging to you like he’s gonna die

kuroo is hyping himself up like he’s gonna be good

-he’s not-

and akaashi is trying not to smack kuroo

-kuroo keeps making akaashi fall-

n e ways

when you’ve finally got your boys on the ice, you’re holding kuroo’s hand 

bokuto is on the floor, screaming

-he thinks that people are gonna skate over him-

and akaashi is starting to balance on one foot

so you make up a reward system 

“whoever makes a full lap around the rink gets to make out with me on the car ride home”

bokuto is standing up immediately -after intense struggle-

kuroo is already dashing 

his ankles will be respectively screaming at him

his form is so bad, y’all 

he’s barely standing 

and akaashi?

well, akaashi is making out with you in the middle of the rink

bo and kuroo are about halfway across, and they’re both majorly struggling 

giving you one last kiss, akaashi graciously skated a lap around the rink

bokuto cried 

kuroo huffed

and you gave each and every one of them a celebratory kiss on the way out

in the car, bo goes on and on about how cool it was that you could ice skate

he wants to learn the mechanics of it, but it all goes in one ear and out the other

kuroo is driving and asking about when you started, if you’ve ever competed, and so on

-his hand is also on your thigh-

-i failed to mention that you’re in the passager seat-

long story short,,, it was a rly successful date!

bonus:

“you have to ice your ankles, kuroo”

“i’m fine, y/n”

“...”

“wAIT STOP DON’T TOUCH TH- AUGH!”

[alienaiver]

omg omg 88 and osamu … i hope it’s fluffy hes boyfie ok ty ty kiss for u too

HI MY LOVE... I AM.... INCREDIBLY, PAINFULLY SORRY FOR TAKING TWO MONTHS...🫡🫡. i am hiding in my attic after this 🤡 KDJSKDJKSD but ehre we are!!!!!!!!!! 🥺🧡🧡 i hope youll like it <3333333

number 88 gave the sentence “I will never stop fighting for you. I will never stop protecting you.”!!!! isnt that romantic!!

this is some fluffy fluff but its a fantasy/royalty au and an assassin involved, but no gore-y mentions of deaths!!! <33333 it came out as 894 words! thank you for sending one in, i hope you enjoy it!!! :')

The room is dark as you sit by the wooden desk, fiddling with all the items laid out in front of you. This is Osamu’s … lair, you could say – and he’s messy. It’s not so much an office as it’s his living quarters. He’s rarely here anyway, only in-between missions. You learned early that he prefers to sleep in the stables anyway, weapon at the ready.

He’s out right now, on a mission sent by your mother, the queen. There’s been upheaval underneath the finer layer of society, mentions of coup d’états and rotten hate. Threats towards you, the sole heir has even been issued. It brings unease into your heart.

Your mother is not necessarily a popular ruler. She’s headstrong with a heightened moral compass that she isn’t afraid to act on and punish those needed, which, in her defense, has lowered the general crime rate. So, she’s not a bad one either.

But alas, she has also created a divide and unknowingly made an underground mob of criminals.

This is where Miya Osamu comes in. He’s hired as the kingdom’s assassin – and he’s currently also the man who receives your affections.

You met in the Gardens for the first time ten years ago, when he was just a stableboy. He didn’t recognize you nor your title as he approached you without apprehension. It delighted you, seeing how isolating being the royal heir could be.

Originally, he only acknowledged you to apologize for his twin’s behavior. You were surprised, thinking it had been the same boy who’d thrown grass at you for telling him off when he pulled branches off of the tree. You’d sat and talked for an hour after that.

You slump down onto the chair with a sigh. Reminiscing your past with him is not going to bring him back earlier – or any safer.

You pick up the fountain pen and fiddle with it, dipping it in ink. You fold up your sleeve so that you can doodle on your arm. Osamu has tattoos – you’ve always dreamt of matching him.

”Is that considered proper entertainment?”

You yelp out as you drop the pen, spilling ink on the fabric of your garments before it hits the floor, rolling off and disappearing somewhere underneath the desk. You’ll purchase him a new one.

You put your palm to your chest and heave in a grounding sigh as you spot Osamu crouched on the windowsill, looking at you. He seems happy to have managed to scare you but he’s trying to suppress the glee. You shake your head and get up from his chair.

“Welcome back.”

He jumps down easily from the sill with a smile as he unwraps his utility belt to place on the big chest next to the window. You’ve always been curious as to what he’s hiding inside. When he nears you, he gently takes your arm and pulls it towards him. He wants to admire your handiwork it seems. You just hope he doesn’t touch your pulse point directly and feel the velocity in which it is pulsing. You’d surely pass out if he ever called you out so directly.

He whistles as he turns your arm, “this one reminds me of my rose,” he notes and your breath hitches sharply. He looks up at you from underneath his eyelashes, hoping you do not see the blush adorning his cheeks. To his luck, you’re much too focused on the part of your body where you connect at the moment. You’re concerned with the sweat emerging from your palms.

“Your majesty?” he asks and you’re pulled back to the moment. You hum out a reply as you retract your arm, straightening your back.

“I have taken care of the threat.” He says, his voice unusually official near you.

Right, the threat aimed at you. You slump and sigh. “I can feel your unease,” he says, reaching out for your arm again. He hides his hurt well when you pull it behind you, out of reach.

He remembers his place. He’s just your assassin.  

You smile weakly before you raise your gaze again to look at him, “I’m happy to hear so, do not misunderstand,” you also raise your arm again in an effort to mend the hurt he thinks you don’t see, grazing his cheek slightly. He can’t help but lean into your palm for a split second before he collects himself.

“But you are correct. The apprehension will not leave me. This is the third one that you’ve been tasked with. Under the woodworks they will continue to emerge and I…” you trail off and silence grows together with the distance between the two of you. Osamu refuses to let it continue like this; he grabs the arm by his cheek and turns his head slowly. With only a few millimeters of air separating his lips from your skin, he makes an oath, “I will never stop fighting for you. I will never stop protecting you.”

Your breath hitches again but your heart relaxes immediately, knowing that he will always support you, even if it’s from the shadows. Before he pulls away, you push your hand against his lips so that they finally, completely connect. To your delight, he doesn’t hesitate or move away.

Everything will be okay, as long as you have Miya Osamu by your side.

[theinkedfoxsl]

was that questions post like an oc ask game but for you instead? i bet other people have asked questions but i want ALL OF THEM. bc i think u are so cool. please :3 n for 36: what is your very favorite time of day and why?

HHHHHHH

What is your nickname?

Len :3

When is your birthday?

I don't celebrate it! But I celebrate my name day on October 29th

What was your longest relationship?

5 years this June with Henrik :D

What is your favorite book?

Ripper by Stefan Petrucha. I was obsessed with it as a child

What is something you're insecure about?

Rn? My voice cracks. They're pretty bad with where I'm at on T and they embarrass me

5 Male celebrity crushes

Pedro Pascal, Joaquin Phoenix, Nic Cage, Ryan Gosling, and Hugh Jackman

5 Female celebrity crushes

Can I put Natalie Dormer for all of them? But her, Salma Hayek, Nicole Kidman, Jessica Alba, and Kesha!

What is your dream job?

I wanted to be a writer for a game company.

What do you consider your biggest accomplishment?

Landing Henrik- uhm but no, finishing the Ambros Twins. It meant a lot to me, and I put in a lot of work for it. Even if I don't go there anymore.

What is a fact about you that nobody would believe?

ALL OF MY WEIRD FACTS PEOPLE GO "that makes sense" SO IDK?? I'm afraid of the ocean?

What were your highs and lows for this last month?

Eugh,, the lady at the blood clinic has been really transphobic and ableist to me the last two times I've went and its really sucked. Today was particularly bad cause the barista and some random girls were also quite rude. But! I ordered my cane and I'm so so excited to get it! I also got a skin I wanted in Outlast Trials!

Where is somewhere you'd like to visit?

I wanna go back to Germany, it was so nice. But I want to visit Munich next time!

How do you de-stress?

Stressful video games :3

What are your favorite apps besides tumblr?

Discord! All my friends are in there.

Describe yourself in one sentence.

Exhausted and blunt but kind

What do you think makes you attractive?

My fierce determination to make things work even when I'm on a wire. The people I love, I love dearly. And they know that. I think its an attractive quality to have, to care so deeply about others.

What is something you're really good at?

Writing! I'm also really good at listening.

What is something you're really bad at?

ADVICE- I can listen but not give advice. I'm also fucking awful at soulslike games we've discovered (nobody is surprised)

A time that you told a lie.

Pretty much every day. I'm a compulsive liar, I'm working on it.

What's a totally random and useless fact that you know?

Some ladybugs can have no spots!

Who knows you the best?

Rowan or Henrik I think

What is your most prized possession?

My engagement ring.

What is your longest friendship?

MAX! I've known him since I was 16! Almost ten years yeesh

When did you first feel like an adult?

I still don't sometimes. But I'd just moved into my apartment on the lake to be closer to my job and I was sitting on this empty living room floor and I realised that I was well and truly alone. I wasn't a child at home anymore. I was alone and I was an adult.

Do you/ Have you played any sports?

I played volleyball, baseball, and I did track.

How are you feeling right now?

Like I said bad day, so I'm a bit sad. But I'm watching Max play Lies of P and I'm hanging with friends so hopefully better soon.

Are you an early bird or a night owl?

Night owl

Do you believe in love at first sight?

Chemical reaction at first sight lol

Favorite song lyrics right now?

"I'm blinded, how am I to find a path that's righteous?"

What does self care look like for you?

iced coffee and nap

Describe yourself with 3 singers.

Tonight Alive, Icon for Hire, Hollywood Undead

What makes you nervous?

everything

What’s a pet peeve you have?

CUTTING ME OFF CAUSE I WALK WEIRD GO AWAY

What will always make you cry?

Tadashi ):

What kind of first impression do you think you make on people?

Unpleasant. A lot of people don't like me. That's okay

what is your very favorite time of day and why?

3am! When I'm hanging out and its dark and things are quiet and I can just breathe

[ponfarrtimeatthevulcannightclub]

Write a story about Quark going to a shop?

(you have no idea how hard I am resisting the urge to make you write about the Riddler)

Gonna see how much I can write in 10 min on mobile

It was a normal day on DS9 and everyone was bustling around doing whatever they do on a normal day. Everyone except for Quark, who wasn't even on ds9. And come to think of it, neither was Odo. They were on bajor because Quark had begged Sisko to go to get some new things for his bar earlier.

"Captain, Sisko, Benjamin." The sight was pathetic (and not the fun kind). Quark was on his knees, head down, and wrists pressed together in the traditional Ferengi way.

Sisko rolled his eyes at the dramatics of it all, and Quark was a bit afraid they'd get stuck back there. "Don't call me Benjamin. And get off the floor. Aren't you the one always talking about how expensive and rare those fabrics are."

"Right, uh, sorry about that, and yes, these are some of the highest quality fabrics on this side of the quadrant. But that's not the point. You have to see the quality of these cups. Aaand for the price they're selling them at?? It's like they don't even know how valuable they are. Also, I desperately need new glasses after Brunt tried to take my bar and, you know, the whole place being destroyed and me almost being murdered."

"Fine Quark, you can go." Quark visibly perked up," but I don't want you going alone. You haven't been to Bajor that often, and who knows what you'll get up to down on the surface. Sisko to Odo"

"Odo here"

"Quark wants to go down to Bajor to get some c u p s, and I want you to go with him to make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble"

"But sir, I have reports to go through, and what if something happens while I'm gone?"

"You can bring the reports on the runabout and we still have Kira and the security team. I'm sure we'll be fine. Besides, when's the last time you took a day off? Runabout one is in the docking bay and have fun in bajor. Sisko out"

--------------------- got to walls in 10 min but now I have to finish it so time to add another 10 got to the #after the next 10

Bajor was lively and all of the shops were colorful and bright with flowers and vines climbing the walls. Quark fit in well with his eccentric clothing and his giddiness just to be there. Meanwhile odo had an aura of annoyance around him which made everyone avoid the pair.

"Oh come on odo, lighten up. We're on bajor, your childhood home, kind of. Did you even live on this part of bajor?"

"Childhood home is a statement that only semi applies. For one I was floating in space for at least a few hundred years, and also aren't childhood homes supposed to be pleased places with fond memories? So I could hardly consider bajor a home and I didn't really have a childhood. Can we please just hurry up and find your cups?"

"Right yes the cups, glasses is you will. The seller said the shop is named Alvarez and xe described the shop as purple and blue with red accents around it if we couldn't find the name"

"Wait quark, what do you mean we?"

"Well obviously you were coming. Even before Sisko said something. I almost got murdered and you guys know I'd probably find something to get into while I'm down here. And since you know me better out of everyone on the station, sisko would choose you to come with me. Besides, i kind of wanted you to come."

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that last part? I couldn't quite hear you."

"Dang it odo, don't make me say it again."

"I'm most certainly making you say it again."

"Fine....I wanted you to come because I wanted to spend time with you."

"But...why? You don't even like me."

"What do you mean I don't even like you?? I'm at the same place at the bar every day as I have been for the past 7 years waiting for you to come in at the same time, on the dot, for 7 years. Why would I wait for you if I didn't like you?"

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

This is incomplete bc I have chem to finish but if you like it I'll finish it whenever I can. Maybe I'll even post it. Also sorry if the dialog is confusing.

[nervousgardenerkid]

HELLO ITS ME AGAIN THE SELECTIVE MUTISM ANON I WAS WONDERING IF U COULD DO SMTH SIMILAR BUT WITH STEVE AND MAKE IT ANGSTY >:DD

so sorry for dropping this one you so suddenly and straight after the new one, it just came to me haha

also ty for doing the eddie x reader it really helped <333

a/n: ANON IM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE BUT BETWEEN WORK AND SCHOOL IVE BEEN SO TIRED😭😭i hope you like this! credit to the gif owner! <3

You're sitting in your lunch spot frozen as milk drips from the ends of your hair, the whole cafeteria is silent before erupting into laughter.

“Oops!” Carol says with venom laced in her voice. “Sorry, I'm such a klutz.”

You don’t respond to her and wipe milk away from your eyes. Your lack of response causes Tommy to slam his lunch tray on the table.

“She said sorry, aren't you going to forgive her?”

You shake your head knowing you don't have it in you to speak right now. Your heart is pounding out of your chest and you really wish some of your friends were here right now. Tommy let out an obnoxious laugh.

“Look at you! You can't even talk!” More students began to laugh while some looked at you in pity.

“Hello?? Anyone there? We're talking to you!” Carol said while poking your shoulder. Tears were streaming down your face and you were starting to feel lightheaded from the rapid breathing you were doing. Before you know it a jean jacket was thrown around you and you were dragged out of the cafeteria while students started to scream and cheer. You didn't have time to register what was going on but you get some sort of relief when you realized Robin was pulling you into the girl's restroom.

“Those fucking assholes, I swear to god I'll beat them up myself next time I see them.” She has you lean against a wall and turns to grab some napkins but you latch onto her hand. She looks at you and feels her heartbreak when she sees your eyes pleading her not to leave.

“Hey, it's okay. I'm just gonna grab you some napkins and clean you off okay? I have extra clothes in my bag for our sleepover today.”

You slowly let go of her and look down at her bag. You forgot all about the sleepover and you're scared to tell her that you no longer plan on spending the night after today’s events.

“It's okay, don't even worry about it. We can always do it another night! Go ahead and change whenever you're ready.” she says quietly while wiping dried-up milk off of your face. Once she's done with that she reaches into her bag and hands you some clothes. You nod your head slightly giving her a silent thank you before you go into the stall and change. You look down at your clothes and notice only your shirt is wet so you figured you can wrap the milk-soaked shirt in the pair of sleep shorts robin packed for you. You tried your best to take deep breaths and calm down but when you hear the door slam open your breathing picks up again. What if Carol came to tease you some more? You know Robin wouldn't let her but she isn't afraid to get her hands dirty.

“Where is she?”

Relief flooded your system as you recognized Steve's voice. You poked your head out of the stall and saw his back facing you, his hair is messed up and the only thing you think of is how hard Steve works on his hair. He turns around at the sound of the stall door creaking and lets out a sigh of relief. You gasp at the sight of him.

Steve had a busted lip and a bruise starting to form around his eye, you look down at his hands and see them bloody and bruised.

“Hey, don't worry about me,” he whispered while rushing to you and wrapping you in his arms. “They aren't going to bother you anymore, okay?”

You nodded your head. He grabs the clothes that are sitting in your hand and shoves them in his bag while grabbing yours from off the floor.

“Thanks for taking her out of there Robin,” he says while gently placing your hand in his.

Robin says it's not a problem and gives you a tight hug knowing those calm you down. Steve walks out of the girl’s restroom with you glaring at Tommy on the way out. Tommy had multiple tissues held to his nose and had a dark-colored bruise resting on his cheekbone, he flipped Steve off mumbling how he misses his old friend but Steve doesn't care.

He opens the passenger door for you making sure all limbs are in before he closes the door. He slides into the diver's side and reaches in the backseat handing you a notebook and pen.

“What happened, baby?”

Your brain replays what happened minutes ago and you shake your head trying to erase the thoughts, you don't want to think about it, not right now.

Is your hand okay?

Steve reads your question out loud to himself and chuckles.

“Don't worry about me. I'll be okay.”

You didn't have to fight him. I know you guys are like best friends.

“No, you're my best friend. I can't believe I hung out with people like them.” he starts to get lost in his thoughts when he feels you tap him with the pen.

Can we go home? I want to wash the milk out of my hair.

Steve felt his heart warm. He knows you mean he can take you to his house but the fact that you consider it home brings a smile to his face. He starts up the car and looks over at you.

“Are you ready to talk yet?”

You shake your head slowly hoping he wouldn't be upset at your answer. You know it could be frustrating when you suddenly go silent, as you've been told time and time again. Steve grabs your hand and places a gentle kiss on it, ignoring the small sting from the cut on his lip.

“That's okay, take all the time you need. I'll be here when you're ready.”

[bowieandqueen11]

Marc Spector Dating A Plus!Size Reader Would Include...

Request: hi !!! your plus sized reader and steven story made me tear up it's so cute and perfect :(( do you think you'll do one for marc as well? if not that's okay too :)

That’s so kind of you, thank you!! :) Also I’m afraid I’ve never read any Moon Knight comics, so all my knowledge of Marc has come from the first five episodes of the show!

Warning, mentions of childhood abuse and slightly NSFW!

(I do not own Moon Knight or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @the-maidofmischief.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

GOT to start this off by saying just look at him. Absolute baby. Daddy (thank u mr isaac). Mess of a man. Gosh I love him so much. I know we all like to say that Steven is Mr. Puppy Dog Eyes, but this mf right here is the REAL Mr. Heart eyes. The way he looks at you is just ridiculous; his eyes are so intense, his gaze so particular as they focus in only on you, it’s akin to feeling ashes of fire fall like fresh snow, overwhelmingly cool and destructive at the same time. He’s so unused to being allowed anything of this nature, of being allowed so close to divinity that just the look he reserves for you alone is enough to melt a hole through the floor.

I feel like the two of you would have first met as children - perhaps a next door neighbour who used to run round after school and go on adventures with Dr. Grant and Randall around the suburbs of Chicago. Marc would always stick tight next to you as you wandered down the winding lanes and into the tree lines. He would be smiling over at his brother as he talked about the newest excavation they were about to embark on, whilst simultaneously nudging into your shoulder with his own and pretending his cheeks weren’t becoming flushed every time you knocked him back.

After Randall... well, you were the only friend Marc had left. The only person in his life that he could rely on, and the only thing keeping the last scraps of what should have been his light-hearted childhood within him. When his mother used to finally give up on blaming him and recede back into her bedroom with her whiskey to keep her company, Marc used to heave himself off the floor and limp straight for his windowsill. There, he would pick up the slightly smashed torch he used to give three lit blasts into your window, letting you know it was okay to climb down and make your way up through his own. Clambering in, he would collapse down onto the floor in a heap, drawing his knees up around his chest and crying into their caps. You would spend the rest of the night on the floor, hugging him into your side and rocking him back and forth as you tried to will away some of his pain, waiting for the stinging to stop. Once he would finally look desperately up at you, and allow you to wipe away the remaining tears on his cheeks with the side of your thumbs, the two of you would sit side by side. Cross legged on the floor, you would tip out his colouring pencils and draw out scenes of how you imagined your future would be: somewhere where it never rained, a pet rabbit or fish, the two of you living together inside a giant library, or somewhere secret and hidden away like a tomb. He’d stash them under his pillow when it was finally time for you to go, and every night before he fell asleep he’d add to it. Another two stick figures, holding hands in front of a shimmering reed field, safe and content.

You were also there during all his birthdays!! Sitting round the Spector’s dining room tables with a tilted party hat on, holding up the cake for a crestfallen looking Marc as he tried his hardest to pretend to have a good time and blow out the candles. When you shoved a piece of cake right into his face though - the beaming smile he gave you as he scooped up some icing and retaliated was enough to even let his father breathe a sigh of relief, if only for a moment. Cue Mrs. Spector entering, and Marc running away with you right on his heels. When you finally manage to catch up with him, you manage to pull the present you had wrapped for him out of your pocket and shove it into his hands. Inside is a little locket clasped onto a gold chain, inside a drawing of the two of you in each empty space that you had done. He gives you a hug so tight you can feel the air rush out and the blood rise to your forehead, but it makes it all worth it to know that Marc has never taken that chain off over the years. Not even for a second. Not even when he left, and he was so heartbroken it felt cruel to wear a reminder of what his heart could have been around his neck. 

Apart from his father, you made his childhood that little touch more bearable, which is why he wasn’t shocked to find his feet had led him to your door once he came back from the marines. That fateful night, just a few hours after he found out that his mother had passed away, when Marc Spector had no idea what to do. He felt terrible for walking out on you all those years ago, and yet his feet were so sure of themselves as they marched up onto your steps and rang the doorbell. He was ready to bolt when you opened it, standing there like a petrified little rabbit afraid it was about to be mauled when you peered out and saw wretched, tired, desolate Marc Spector standing in your doorway for once. So, you did the only thing you could think of. You pulled him tight into your arms, not noticing how he sobbed a wretched, soul-crushing moan as soon as your fingers touched his jacket. He just wept into your neck, clawing onto the curve of your back with tender talons as he promised over and over that he would never let go of you again. 

Yep and now I’ve actually made myself cry way to go Cee.

You get whisked away a lot with Marc... or, well, more like Khonsu whisks you and Marc away to wherever he commands him to go a lot. But that doesn’t mean the two of you don’t take every opportunity - every second Marc deems the Universe has given him of borrowed time to enjoy his life basked in your honey-gold luminance. When he gets a moment away from the Egyptian God, he likes to take you out to see the cities you’ve flown off to. This usually means boat rides along canals and reedy rivers, where he tries to let his fears of ever hurting you go and just hold you tight in his arms. Or, walking through star-lit, bustling city markets late at night, stone-cobbled streets laden with sellers tempting you with a range of sweet-smelling goods. Although he’s still too tense to take the baseball cap away from his eyes, the grip he has on your hand lets you know that all he wants at that moment is to be in your company.

My man is BIG on arm worship. Like, idk, he just feels like his hands have done such horrible things during his grief-stricken life? Every time he looks down at them, he just sees them inked marked with splattered drops of blood, so he takes his mind off it for even a second by noticing every mark and crease on yours instead. It drives him crazy - kissing up your upper arms while tenderly holding out your hand in the cool breeze when you’re both back on the motel bed. The feeling of you wrapping them tight around his neck as his body hovers over your chest, feeling safe and cocooned and normal in the arms of the person he adores more than all of life.

I mean, sometimes it’s not easy dating Marc Spector - too often to count, you’ll wake up to find him stumbling back to your apartment at day break caked in dried blood, sweat, and mud flecks rising up to the moon. Even though his body is screaming with the pain of numerous joints popped out of place, he doesn’t care. He just wants to be in your embrace. So be ready for dirtied sheets as he collapses down onto your legs and buries his head into your thick thighs. He just sleepily apologises over and over as he takes his hand within yours and clasps it to his heart, before falling fast asleep. Sometimes, it both terrifies and exhilarates you to know how whole heartedly he trusts you - how willing he is to lay himself bare and be so vulnerable around you. That’s when you realise just how deep and true his love must be.

Marc is very, very protective of you. If he’s wearing his Moon Knight costume, man is lifting you up from the scene and just straight up Scooby Doo-style running away from the bad guys. Even when the two of you are linked arms, ambling round the streets of Illinois to find a decent coffee shop to sit at for the afternoon, at the first sign of trouble boi is tugging you behind his back and using his whole body to shield you. Sometimes this results in him pulling away, or not purposefully shutting you out. He’s just terrified of the idea that Khonsu could turn and make you his avatar instead at any second, and it would be all his fault. Whenever he feels that way, with shaking fingers he opens the locket again and wills away the tears blinking at the creases of his crumpled eyes, and then he knows it will be alright. Because, with all the tenderness bubbling up from his grief-bound heart, he knows he would do everything possible to never have to lose you. Even if it meant losing himself in the process. He would give himself up in a heartbeat.

So, he wraps his jacket around your shoulders in apology, tucking you into his warmth before guiding you back home with a fond smile. His strong biceps around your shoulders are dominated only by the snug smell that radiates off his clothes: whiskey, hints of coffee, and a dash of caramel.

He’s not a massive fan of PDA in public, just because any shows of affection or kindness seem unnatural and foreign to him. But bless his heart, he does try his best for you. Usually this just ends up him letting you hold your hands on top of his shaking ones, the tremors in his palm so massive that you keep having to stroke his fingers on your lap to get him to relax down and slow his breathing again.

He’s not someone who lies in, or sleeps heavily. But BRO if you let him lie down between your legs, so he’s tucked up between your thighs like a snug little bug he can sleep NO problem. Pls just stroke back those stubborn strands of hair that like to fall into curls around his forehead. He’ll cuddle down, letting his eyes shut in bliss as he rests his hands against your stomach, dropping off into a sound sleep in a millisecond flat. Be ready to stay like that all night, though. Because apart from feeling heavy, hairy legs land and tangle over your own around midnight, my man will not move an inch. His snores do tickle though, especially when he has some light stubble around his cheeks.

He’s biggggg on neck kisses. As we all know, he’s not the best at opening up and just spending time in your company massively talking. So, when the two of you are just chilling on the sofa at home after a long day, watching some terrible 80s action movie he picked, his love language to let you know just how much he’s glad you’re here is through kisses. He’ll rise up from where he’s slouched against your side, saddling up to you and grinning deviously. You don’t have any time to question it before his plump lips are open against the skin of your neck - soft and warm enough to make you whimper, but sucking enough to leave you breathless. He continues pressing those licking, trailing kisses up the tendons of your neck until he’s sure he’s got you a flustered, whining mess underneath him.

He tries to ask Steven for advice on how to be all romantic, especially when he comes home after disappearing for a few weeks in tow of Khonsu. He stands, straggled, at the door. In his hand is a valentine-eque card, full of bumpy lines and uneven colouring that he tried to make on the turbulent flight home. In the other hand is a bouquet of very squashed, very sat on looking wilted flowers - the only thing covering the apologetic grimace on his face.

He knows how it feels to be insecure, and to feel like you’re life isn’t worth anything. So, if for even a SECOND he sees you looking down, or disappointed, or upset about ANYTHING Marc notices straight away and does his best to distract you. He cups your cheek, raising your chin so you’re looking at him, and he’s sure you can see every move of his lips as he rambles out all the ways you’re perfection in his eyes. You’re so close though, you can feel his heart ramming against his chest, heart overflowing, gushing out of his mouth like tides on the Nile. Eventually, the look he gives you - that smouldering gaze of ash and rage and lust and fire is too overwhelming, you’re too irresistible to him, and the two of you end up collapsed in a heap on the floor making out.

He tries to be all sweet the next morning by bringing you breakfast in bed, but he ends up tripping over the sandbags Steven left by the window and spills the freshly squeezed orange juice all over your lap. *Cue Marc leading you to the shower and getting down on his knees so he can lather every inch of your skin from the feet up with loving hands and soapy suds to make sure he gets it all off.*

He gets quite shy, and sometimes standoffish if he gets caught doing anything too cutesy and lovey-dovey, though. He still has that flight or fight response in him, that need to keep quite and hidden and not do anything too brazen so he doesn’t get in trouble. So you try not to open your eyes at night and give away the fact he’s woken you up when you can feel his pointer finger trace up the side of your stomach, and up to your neck. His mouth is hanging slightly open in wonder, little ‘wows’ still spilling out of his mouth as he curls up against you and giggles like Steven at the disbelief that the dreams he used to spend every fitful childhood night dreaming about have actually come true.

Speaking of, he tacks up some of the drawings by the fish tank. You catch him some mornings sipping his mug of coffee and standing up looking at them, a proud smile on his face.

In comparison to Steven, I feel like Marc would rather drive himself than take public transport. Be ready for road trips where his hand is resting on your thigh, squeezing it from time to time as if to check you’re really still there. When you get out onto the long stretches of highway, he sticks his head out of the window like a car-sick puppy as he yells happily into the air, finally feeling free for once in his life. 

And it’s all thanks to you.

[chanluster]

the duke and i | m ; f

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

back to masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____, listen to me.”

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

You understood where she was going with this conversation.

Your father is dead now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A sad smile exposed itself on your face.

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

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

You dearly wished you could write such flawless books yourself.

A slight frown enveloped your lips.

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

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

And snatched it right out of your hands.

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

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

The roll of your eyes was inevitable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The scoff that escaped his lips dared you to try. 

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

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

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

“And how will you do that, blondie?”

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

First. Always him as your first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grinned. “God help her, then.”

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

Your stare remained on his face. “Yes?”

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

Not quite understanding, you drawed, “Yes?”

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

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

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

“I think you should marry me, angel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I cannot promise you that.”

His next words sent the strangest sensation down your spine. 

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

The ballroom erupted into applause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You and him against the world.

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

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

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

Another first, then. 

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

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

“Yes, blondie.”

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

“A thousand times yes.”

THE WEDDING HAPPENED QUITE IMMEDIATELY AFTER THAT NIGHT.

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

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

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

In truth, the ceremony was a blur.

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

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

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

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

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You only offered him a scoff in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His request had you face burning. “Never.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, angel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me what your book is about.”

“I am not telling you anything!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As you say.”

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

“Of course.”

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

“I am perfectly adequate, darling.”

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

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

“____?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The duke had never apologised for anything.

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

Hearing the plea for forgiveness had certainly changed that perception. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Here.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something was amiss. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Does he enjoy your writing?

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

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

He then let out a scoff.

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

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

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

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

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

Your answer made him stop. Whirl to your direction.

“Ah, yes!”

His features twisted into anger.

“Such poppycock!”

You blinked back. “I-pardon?”

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

“Hyunjin, what do you mean?”

The man nearly ripped his hair out. 

“____, you have written a bloody masterpiece!”

Your entire body stilled.

“I...I did what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

An incredulous look was your reply. “Passion?”

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

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

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

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

Lust. 

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

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

“What do you mean...lust?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Now where is the fun in that?”

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

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

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

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

You gulped. “K-kisses?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence descended upon the two of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or even your destroyer. Your fated undoing.

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

“Hyunjin?”

A blink.

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

An innocent reality all for him to defile.

“Yes, angel?”

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

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

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

“How about...how about I assist you?”

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

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

“That is true, yes.”

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

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

His voice right behind gave you a fright.

“Pure, raw lust.”

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

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

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

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

“If, of course, you would let me.”

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

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

“What will you do to me, Hyunjin?”

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

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

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

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

“But show you what real passion tastes like.”

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

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

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

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

“Show me, Hyunjin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hyunjin’s kisses were quite indescribable. 

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

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

He found you shivering beneath his grasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a slight inconvenience that Hyunjin shook his head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hoped with all your heart that Hyunjin would know.

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

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

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

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

You stilled completely. “E-even more?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How you were drenched for him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This time, it was impossible to restrain. 

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

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

You did not need to be told twice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That is me keeping my promise.”

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

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

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

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

“Truly divine, you are.”

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

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

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

His eyes rooted to yours. “Yes?”

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

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

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

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

 THE NEXT MORNING SAW THE TWO OF YOU IN LONDON.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hwang Hyunjin had shown you a very tangible fantasy.

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

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

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

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

Your longing, unfortunately, did not stop there.

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

His fingers had an everlasting impression on you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is nothing you can do, ____.

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

A dangerous thought entered your mind.

That’s not true. There is one solution.

Your eyes widened.

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

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

Especially in a bloody library.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was now or never.

“Lord forgive me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hwang Hyunjin. 

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

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

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

A shuddered breath escaped him.

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

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

He had the audacity to grin wickedly.

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

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

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

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

You almost cried with shame. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alas, that fated question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, you were going to kill him.

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

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

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

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

“Never.” 

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing compared to his tongue running along your slit.

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

He wanted to be inside you the entire night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As much as I am.

Good, sweet Lord.

Maybe you will never move an inch again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hyunjin stilled completely before you. 

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

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

There it was. 

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

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

You wanted Hwang Hyunjin to break you like he wished.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love.

It was then your heart dropped. 

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

Instantly, you clutched at your chest, heartbeat racing. 

In love.

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

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

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

Hell, of the husband that you had fallen for. 

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

Love, undoubtedly, was a weakness.

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

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

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

Why would you ever say such a thing to him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

As if you had not fallen under his spell already.

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

You could not fall for a man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Darling?”

Damn him and his endearments. “Hmm?”

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

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

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

You already knew the answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look at me.”

His voice stopped you cold. 

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

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

That question broke your heart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His heart dropped down to his gut. 

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

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

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

Hyunjin only prayed that he did not scare you off. 

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

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

Fate spoiled your plans when Hyunjin revealed some news.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Had he ever made you feel as such?

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

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

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

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

There was no escaping him. You were disgustingly obsessed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But there you were, bursting his bubble of dreams.

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

Than me, who always did?

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man froze entirely at your claims.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You ached for laughter.

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

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

“I hope he has burned off your silly writing fancy!” she drawled, catching the lights of the destination flickering closer to our transport. “As a wife you have much more important duties.”

Gazing afar through the window, you spoke your truth. “Actually, Mama, he encourages it.” A small chuckle escaped you. “I think he wants me to be an author more than I do.”

“Oh?” The woman brought a hand to her chin, impressed. “That is a rare occurrence indeed.”

Catching your raised brow, she scoffed. “Do not gawk as if you are not aware of men. I am shocked he has given you freedom.”

You listened to her, watching the estate linger closer. “Child, you have found a man who does not restrict you in your passions. I do not know how you accomplished such a feat, but you must be extremely thankful.” A glance was stolen towards her. “Such husbands only exist in those books you love so much.”

Before you could comment on her statement, the carriage slowed to a stop, reaching the final stop. The footmen opened the doors, and your mother stepped out first before you followed, careful not to ruin your dress on the pathway. 

The crowds had you leading inside the estate, luxury which could compete with the Duke of Hastings being exulted in every corner of the interior. Dozens of lords, ladies and other aristocrats wandered in all places of the house, your own mother being swept away by her friends in her social circle. Your presence felt less relevant with each passing second, fearing you would lose yourself in the rush of golden curtains, rose perfume and unwelcome conversation.

You thought that this ball would grant solitude, but then you heard the bright drawl of a familiar lord. 

“By God, is that my dear bookworm I see before me?”

Jumping from the voice, you whirled on your heel. A surprised smile caught on your face.

“Seungmin?”

The said-man returned your shock with a mischievous grin. Lord Kim Seungmin changed greatly since the last time you saw him — what was once thinned, pale cheekbones were now full and golden, amplifying his eye-smile, which he did not lose in the Americas. He was adorned in navy blue, contrasting with his off-coloured pants, black hair styled effortlessly away from his forehead.

“My goodness!” he began, strolling over to you with his mahogany cane. “Even after two years you upkeep your radiance.”

“You flatter me,” you said as your smile widened. “You certainly have changed. I adore the tan!”

“I fear you are the sole admirer,” he confided, narrowing his gaze at his incoming guests. “As if I wish to look like a ghost among men!”

“You have earned my approval, at least,” you complimented in earnest. “Not that it would matter much.”

Seungmin scoffed at your comment. “Says one of the most affluent women in the country! When were you going to tell me you were Hyunjin’s bride?”

Your irritation sparked as your heartbeat raced. “It was very recent, I admit. I would have sent word, but it would not have reached you.”

“I daresay I am not surprised.” 

You peered at him, then. “No?”

He gave you an incredulous look. “My dear, everyone anticipated the occasion. Only you were clueless to the possibility.”

Gritting your teeth, you jabbed him with your hand, causing him to chuckle. “Ow! I was hoping you would mature by this time! No doubt your duke encourages this!”

Preferring to stay silent on the matter, Seungmin continued on the subject, making it difficult. “Where is he, by the way? Gossip tells me it is your first ball as a couple.”

“Is he not here?” A shake of his head had your nerves creeping back. “Oh, um, my mother was alone, so I thought to accompany her instead.”

You nearly grimaced at his callous features. “How bizarre,” he murmured. He then offered you his arm. “If so, then allow me to accompany you in his absence.”

Accepting his arm, he helped you navigate your ways through the huge foyer, the grand stairs welcoming you two as dozens upon dozens of aristocrats came into view — the host nodded his head in greeting at every passerby, leading you down each step, until your feet landed on the floor of the ballroom. 

Examining the area, you marvelled at the pastels colouring each wall, corner and crevice of the vast space in the room. Sweet music filled the air, and murmurs of many ladies and gentlemen resonated everywhere around you, growing louder as their eyes rested on you, your sensual attire, and the lack of husband on your arm.

“How about a dance, Duchess?” Seungmin asked you as he brought you closer to the center. 

Instantly you shook your head, stopping in your tracks. “No,” you refused, tugging on his arm. “I have no wish for dancing this evening.”

“As if you ever have,” he mused, earning your glare. “I presume you await for your beau? Everyone knows you dance first with him.”

A sharp breath exhaled from your nose. “Nevermind that, just take me where the cakes are.”

Laughter spilled from his lips, stirring you to the refreshments. “As you wish, ____.”

Making your way through the guests, you finally ended up where the food resided, tables lined from one corner of the room to the other, flanked in every type of nourishment. Your gaze found stands of cakes, and you left your hand on your friend’s arm, raised towards the deserts. As soon as a servant handed you a plate, the chocolate cake was in your hold.

“Honestly,” the host started, as you cut a piece with a fork, digging straight in. “And they call you the pinnacle of grace!”

“Who in heaven said that?” you asked, baffled as you ate another small piece. Seungmin, snapping his fingers, brought a tray of champagne over to you. Picking up two flutes, you began, “For me?”

Downing the first, he offered you a grin. “What made you think that?” he replied, already sipping the second. “My party, my alcohol.”

This time you giggled at his demeanour, he handing you a drink as you finished your cake. The bubbly goodness was welcomed, warming you up and calming your senses. 

After the third glass, the champagne-induced man let out a huge sigh. “Right!” he exclaimed, propping the glasses on the table beside you. “I must find myself a pretty lady to dance with.”

“Do try to stay on your feet, Seungmin,” you said, raising your flute in toast. 

“No promises!” he merely countered, disappearing into the crowd.  

Your smile faded at the isolation which hit.

There you were — hundreds of people surrounding you, many potential partners to dance with, yet there you were, hand not in another hand but wrapped around your alcohol. 

You could not blame a single soul. This was all your doing.

That had you consuming the champagne to the last drop. 

At least there was some form of relief in this ball, as you watched Seungmin and about a dozen couples form a circle at the center of the room. With the first opening of the music the host led his partner, all the others following suit. 

Watching the waltz had you remembering the last dance, the fateful night where this union came into fruition. Your friend’s smile, his hand on another’s waist, all these images reflected the very same you experienced many weeks before.

You bit the inside of your cheek, reminiscing deeper and deeper. You hated how every fibre of your body ached for his presence. The worst part was that it was not mere lust, or the carnal desire which erupted at his thought.

You longed for him — his banter, his mischievous eyes, and his rather heart-wrenching smile.

The music heightened, the climax of the dance falling on the ball room as Seungmin whirled and whirled his partner, a string of giggles faintly heard from the crowd. When he twirled her one last time, he caught her instantly, at perfect harmony with the ending of the sweet melody.

Applause scattered across the hall as the couples bowed to each other.

A curse escaped you then. 

There was simply no doubt of your feelings — avoiding him could never be the solution. 

This revelation may have arrived at the perfect time.

Because, as the music played once more, a figure emerged at the entrance. 

The murmurs, one by one like a slow wave, died down as they caught sight of him, gazes shocked.

Sipping your champagne, quite puzzled, you turned to the origins for this change of atmosphere. 

Every atom in your body stilled. 

Froze completely at the sight which stood at the foot of the steps. 

You were unable to suppress his name.

“Hyunjin.”

It was as if, by a miracle, he heard your shivered whisper — his eyes skimmed the crowd, frantic beneath the calm.

They found you in the chaos.

Your very breath disappeared from your lungs.

Hwang Hyunjin looked like the devil’s greatest fantasy; as if he stole the night and imprisoned it in his attire. He was adorned in lustrous black, waistcoat patterned with red swirls of velvet. His collar was slightly ruffled, cravat of midnight as it barely brushed against his chin. His tailcoat somewhat glistened in the chandelier light, dark leather boots still as he stood before the hall.

His greatest change was his hair. Once golden like the lights of heaven, it was now as black as the underworld. Half of the locks were swept up in a ponytail, the rest curling at his shoulders. 

The flute nearly dropped from your hands. 

Seungmin, finding his friend on the steps, burst into a smile. “Hastings!” he broke through the silence with enthusiasm. With his voice the crowd fell into frenzied discourse, the host making his way through his guests, strolling towards the new arrival. “By God, it has been too long!”

Hyunjin hummed, not particularly interested in what he had to say. His gaze from you did not stray for a heartbeat. Seungmin, catching on, wrapped a hand around his friend’s shoulder. “I see you only came for one person,” he said, leading him to where you stood. 

Champagne was not the only substance which heated you further, cheeks growing warmer the closer he walked over to you. Every move he emitted exuded sensuality, as if his bones were made of silk. 

You let yourself to a third serving when he stopped before you, Seungmin clapping his hands together in excitement. “Look at the two of you!” he proclaimed. “Your clothes match so perfectly!”

Sure enough, both of you adorned the same hues of dark reds and raven blacks. You felt his eyes rake over you, and you restrained to not do the same, lest you let more than your stare wander. “I always knew you two were right for each other,” your friend continued, grabbing his fourth flute, drinking away in glee. “I am overjoyed to see that you both see it.”

Something cold swirled in your husband’s stare, and you ran a finger along the empty glass, embarrassed to hear such genuinity. “Hyunjin, the second waltz is about to start.” He gestured his flute towards you. “I know you always dance with each other first.”

The duke’s eyes flickered to the host for a mere second before pinning on you again. “I have no desire for dancing tonight.”

You had trouble downing your drink. “How strange...” Seungmin noted, darting between the couple. “Your wife here said the same thing not an hour ago.”

“Did she now?”

The silence that followed was quite unbearable. Even your friend was unimpressed, offering Hyunjin a drink from the waiters nearby. “Oh, you both are such bores! Maybe marriage is not the solution after all.”

You dared not look at him then, fiddling with your black ribbon. “I need to get drunk!” the host declared, tutting his head at the tension created. “I will come again when you two stop being so bloody shy.”

Shy would not be the most accurate term, but Seungmin was too intoxicated to care. He strolled to compliment a gathering of ladies within your radius, which left you with the one man you feared to be alone with.

Hwang Hyunjin. 

Hwang Hyunjin, in his changed, midnight glory, watching you with an indecipherable intensity. Creating the wildest butterflies ever felt inside your body. 

You did not know where to start. 

The man did not understand where to begin either, tongue at loss for words. There were too many words to spill, too many feelings left constricted.

He wished to say something, but his senses had failed him. So, much like you, he stayed silent, wondering if the two of you would ever break this barrier.

Even then, he could not help but linger closer, leaning against the lush walls of the room, right beside you. His presence was a blessing and a curse at the same time.

Tailcoat brushing against your skirts, he examined the ballroom along with you, itching to reach for your hand. He would never really, but in that moment, you were beyond tempting. 

You see, he had no idea what you would wear tonight, and after the spat at Lansdowne, he yearned for change — hence the raven hair and darkened clothing, so unlike his usual pastel attire. He did not even think that you would attend the ball in fear of his presence, but seeing you before him, engulfed in his favourite colours…

He would have damned society and taken you in this very hall. 

Daringly, he let himself wonder whether you felt the same — he heard your shocked murmur when he arrived, and the further shocked stare which made him ever so smug. If only you would let him do something about it.

If only you would let him ease this tension before it spiralled out of control.

His thoughts were rudely interrupted as Seungmin came stumbling back, alcohol, swishing back and forth in his new glass as he giggled at his guests. “Dear friends!” he broke out, hands raised, some of the drink accidentally slipping out. “Oh, forgive me, gentlemen!”

You heard Hyunjin sigh beside you as he held his own hands out to steady his friend. “Steady now, man!” he warned. The drunkard only chortled, foot stepping onto your dress.

“You should not have drank so much!” you scolded, raising your skirts. Glimpses of your stockings came into display, and Seungmin shrieked.

“Careful duchesh!” he slurred excitedly, leaning right into you and wiggling the glass as if it were a finger. Unfortunately, he had little control over how hard he shook his alcohol, and it all spilled over. 

Right onto your white stockings.

Yelping, you saw the middle part stain in pinkish-red, murking the material with every drop landing. “Seungmin!” you yelled in agitation. 

“Oh bollocksh!” he cursed, causing a few gasps around the hearing radius. “I apologishe, dear, so very very much—”

Hyunjin, witnessing the scene, stopped a nearby servant. “Please tend to your master, here,” he ordered, pointing towards Seungmin begging for your forgiveness. Nodding, the boy took the host away, the latter hiccuping as he asked for more wine. “And do not give him any more to drink!” the duke added.

Focusing on you, he rushed over, assessing the mess made. “Damn fool has spilled quite a bit.” Whirling his head to any exits, he spotted a dark hallway, remembering the route of the estate. “Come with me.”

You glanced at him, frantic. “Where to?”

He did not answer fully as he wrapped a hand around your waist, almost making you forget that you had wine spilled over you. “Seungmin has many spare rooms,” he explained, leading you out of the ballroom. Thankfully, the crowd was too occupied in preparing for the second waltz to care for the distressed couple. 

Keeping your skirts raised, you managed to keep your gown safe from spillage as Hyunjin led you down the less crowded hallways, depictions of the Kim family painted on the walls. “Ah!” He got out, reaching to a familiar room as he opened it, ushering you inside. “This is where I usually reside whenever I stay at the estate.”

The room was basked in dark, velvety colours, perfect for the man next to you. Lush carpet underneath, the huge bed, nestled at the wall at your right had its curtains drawn, revealing glistening indigo sheets, matching the framing of the bedroom. Dressing tables, wardrobes and the like were furnished at each corner, your focus drifting back to the dweller. 

There was barely any light, save for the oil lamp sparked to life by his match. Setting it to the side of the bed, it brought much more life to the room, previously engulfed in mystery. 

Without the upheaval, the space was basked in silence. You realised the hand on your back was sorely missed, and Hyunjin, standing a few feet away, clenched and unclenched that very hand, yearning for his fingers upon you once more.

But the two of you kept playing that little game of keeping quiet. Sooner or later, one of you will have enough of this sickening ploy. 

Groaning, you walked over to the edge of the bed, kicking your heels off as you saw your stockings, fully stained. “Damn it,” you muttered, promising Seungmin murder. 

Another few minutes of your grumbling, and he had had enough. 

“Maybe I can be of assistance.” 

Perking up, you found Hyunjin, walking slowly to you, hands fumbling in his coat pockets. After a few seconds of rummaging, he brought out a package, tied with red string. 

You raised a brow. “What is this?” 

“Open it,” he merely said, taking a step closer as he held it before you.

Hesitantly accepting, you tugged on the end of the bow, unraveling the tie. You did not forget the stare which rested on you the entire time you opened the wrappings. 

When the paper unfurled, you examined the contents.

Before you were a folded pair of black stockings.

A soft exhale escaped as you beheld the present, the midnight silk soft to the touch, already aware of its rich feel. You delved in further, and uncovered white ribbons at the top, for tightening their grip. 

“How…” you trailed off, dumbfounded at the coincidence. “How did you…?”

“No, no, this was…” he locked his hands behind his back. “Something I was supposed to give you this morning.”

“Oh.” This morning. When you two had that particularly nasty fight. “I see.”

You glanced down at the present again. Hyunjin had proven, once again, how refined his taste was. “I have never seen such exceptional detail on stockings before.” Discarding the paper at your feet, you ran your thumb across the material. “I doubt this suits me at all.”

There was a pause at that. 

You knew there was something he wanted to say. The way his jaw ticked, the boot lightly tapping on the floor — he was bursting to add a comment which may be a risk, considering the circumstance of your relations. 

Allowing yourself to be the first to dare, you peered up at him. The curiosity, explicit in your eyes, had him clearing his throat.

His hesitancy faded. “Show me, then.”

Catching the ferocity in his stare, you swallowed, hand at your skirts. “If…if you wish.”

And that was all he needed to begin.

You watched as the man descended on his knees, lingering upon you until he looked down, revealing your white-clad legs the further you raised your gown. You stopped before the ends, holding onto your skirts and petticoats as if your life depended on it.

Hyunjin’s gaze did not waver as his hand raised forward, finding themselves upon the bow at the top of the stockings as the other gently held your ankle. Untying the ribbon, he hooked his fingers under the tight fabric, your skin brushing against his knuckles. Slowly, he pulled down the stocking, uncovering your skin before him under the dim lamp light. When it bunched up, his hand at your ankle stretched the ends of fabric, sliding the stocking right off. 

Discarding it behind him, he repeated the unveiling on the other leg. He noticed your skin heating underneath his touch, and he dared not expose his growing delight. 

Once the other half slid off, joining its partner, a hand raised in front of you. You stared at him in dazed confusion, and his fingers curled, save for the pointer directed at your present. 

“The stockings, darling.”

The endearment had you falling short — his caresses on your shin brought you back to consciousness, your hand beyond your control as it handed the gift to him. Taking it, he put one of them beside him, bunching the other with his hands till he directed the entrance to your foot on his lap.

Slipping them on, he worked his way upon your heel; his hands were slow, fingers softer than the silk beginning to cover your leg. Every fleeting touch had small shockwaves coursing up your body, as if it was the first time he laid his hands on you. How were you so unaccustomed to his caresses still?

Maybe because he knew how to agonise you. 

When reaching above your knee, he brought the ends of the stocking to your thigh. His fingers fell to the ribbon dangling from the underside and, with the utmost care, began to tie the two pieces together, forming a pretty red bow. 

As he closed the pattern, he tightened the bow, securing the fabric — snuffing out any possibility for the fabric to fall.

He then continued on the other leg, gaze flickering from your legs to your face. He caught every laboured breath you released, every flutter of your eyes slipping you in and out of a daze. His fingers were slower still, as if he never wanted this to stop. The stockings were like a second skin, adding a lustre to your legs the more he covered you with it. 

Sliding over your knee for the last time, he held onto the blood-coloured ribbons. Fingers skimming against silk-stained skin, he tied another perfect bow, tightening it at the ends. 

All done.

His gaze lingered on the bows, the sliver of skin past your thighs. His hands too, refused to leave your legs.

It was then his eyes flicked upward — right into yours. 

You caught every swirl of desire residing inside. 

Every little detail etched on his face was stained with lustful anguish, suppressed hunger of things you dared not imagine. You held onto your skirts with more force, afraid you would lose strength in your hands. 

Hyunjin’s hands, however, had no such troubles.

For they began to carry out his wishes — they slid upwards, past the stockings and upon your upper thighs, spreading them enough to slip himself between your legs. This alone had you near crumbling for him, but his eyes asked for more. Even with the dim light, you had never seen a man so beautiful in agony. 

You wondered whether he was going to say anything. Silence was a giver of many answers, but the questions you held could only be answered by his lulling whispers. Despite protest, you willed your hands beside you, clutching the sheets, waiting for him to tear your soul in pieces. 

Finally, the Duke of Hastings parted his mouth.

“One word, angel.”

He squeezed your thighs softly. 

“One word, and I will never torment you with my presence again.”

A bated breath escaped you.

It was much too late for that. Hyunjin had already tormented you, had done so ever since your fateful realisation, and you knew he would do so for the rest of your life. It would hardly matter whether he was oceans apart or a hair’s breadth close — him, and everything he represented, was complete and utter affliction.

Such a shame that he was a torment you would sacrifice everything to be around every day. Such a horrible, horrible shame that Hwang Hyunjin was a presence you loved more than you could let on.

Hence was the reason you did not answer him with words. What you wished to say was much too vulnerable.

No, you answered him in actions — replied with your hands raising to clasp his face, leaning down to envelope your lips with his. 

You were surprised to hear a pained moan leave his mouth, and you realised that was the sound of pure, heart-breaking relief. Instantly his hands travelled further as he kissed you back with twice the fervour, hands sliding to grip your waist. Pulling you to him, he erased any distance between you, delving deeper into your mouth. He shuddered at how he went so long without your tongue swirling along with his, like parting from a lost companion.

Fingers sliding to his neck, you welcomed his enthusiasm, his desperation which heightened with every searing touch, every soft bite of his teeth against your lips. He broke away, peppering open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, eliciting the sweetest whining from you. 

“...missed you,” he murmured on your skin, sending chills down your body as he kissed the edges of your dress's neckline. “I...missed you so much.”

“Hyunjin—” you began, wanting to say that you yearned for him, but the words on your tongue faded when his fingers bunched up the skirts of your gown, hitching it higher until the midnight stockings were back in view — he did not stop there, pushing the fabric further till it bunched at your waist, along with the petticoats. His hurried hands pulled down your underthings, sliding them right off your legs, discarding them behind them.

Seeing your cunt glistening in the lamplight nearly broke him.

“I—God,” he breathed out, hands spreading your legs apart. An aching whine escaped you at the action, the cool night air caressing your inner thighs. “Angel, tell me...we do not have to do this.” He glanced up at you, and the madness residing in his eyes infected your soul. 

Maybe madness was the only reason you damned the consequences.

“Don’t you dare stop.”

Hyunjin licked his lips before blessing you with his closure.

The first stripe across your slit set you on fire. 

A soft groan through your mouth at the familiar sensation, the overbearing feeling of being ascended far away from this obscure bedroom. He had always worked wonders, but this time, the languor had faded, desire hardening his tongue against your folds. He pulled on your legs, sending his face further into your cunt, and you yelped at the ferocity of his actions. 

There was no denying it — the man had grown frantic without you.

Swiping in the arousal coating along your slit, a satisfied hum escaped him as he travelled upwards, your seething more encouragement. He struck gold as he found your clit, circling his tongue along the bud, rendering you helpless as you moaned without shame. You cared little if the guests heard you beyond the door, your husband making it too hard to contain yourself.

Perhaps you would have survived his treatment if he did not leave one of his hands upon your leg, trailing up your thigh. He slipped in not one, but two fingers straight inside, and your voice raised an octave — the gradual rhythm of his digits had that overflowing feeling creeping over you all over again. Your grip on his half-ponytail tightened, pleading for him to give you mercy, but the man was relentless, never opting for a break in his devouring.

“Damn it, please—” you grated out, instinctively rolling your hips against his face. The edge of the bed seemed more like the edge of the world. “Wh-whatever you do—”

You did not finish as Hyunjin squeezed your thigh, and you knew then in your dazed mind — a certainty that he understood. 

Within moments his pace quickened, fuelling the spark of nerves which swirled in your gut, threatening to overtake you. Teething your clit softly, then swirling his tongue along, you knew that if he carried on, he would break you on this bed. Something within you felt as if that was his was his very purpose.

Why the thought thrilled you, you would never know.

His rapid fingers and sensual tongue working harmoniously finally got through to you, as, with a whimpering cry, you came all over him, closing your eyes as spots of white stained your mind. You felt his ministrations slow, a small kiss gifted upon your sensitive clit before his lips pulled away. Other hand brushing across your leg, he soothed you from the high you experienced, whispers of his lilting voice perking you from your stupor.

“Hyunjin?” you quietly called, gazing at his lust-struck face. He did not look away as he brought the finger to his lips, sucking away at your residue.

You did not think you could ever get used to this image.

“Yes, angel?” he rasped out, straightening on his knees so his head nearly levelled with yours.

Catching the implications within your eyes, his own widened slightly.

“More?” he let himself wonder, and when you nodded much too desperately, he realised he had done it. 

All he needed was for you to voice it.

“Oh, my sweet little darling,” he whispered, taking one of your gloved hands. Slowly, he slid off the long gloves, repeating the same for the other. “This time, I cannot let you off.

His hands then clasped yours. “This time...I need you to say what you want for me.”

The declaration would have had you closing your legs in embarrassment if your husband was not between them. Not even embarrassment for what he said but...the idea of you wanting to completely oblige it.

Look at you — a few months ago, you possessed not a single inclination of what he suggested; what he asked for, what he so direly wanted you to say. The woman before this one would have rather buried herself under the earth than admit such desire for a man.

The Duke of Hastings, though, brought her out from her underground retreat, and revealed to her all that she was capable of. He showed her what everyone was so afraid to even talk about, and made you addicted to what was forbidden.

A dire shame you wanted Hyunjin to keep you intoxicated for the rest of your life.

You faced him once and for all. Asked him for the one thing which you never thought imaginable.

“Show me...all of it.”

Your hands travelled to his shoulders, keeping him close.

“Show me everything.”

If there was a way to bottle this moment and hang it on the walls of his heart, Hyunjin would have jumped at the chance.

Had he defiled you, after so long? Had he slipped his dirty fantasies into your mind, tainted you with his infatuation?

The answers to his questions were found upon your lips. He collided his own against yours as he gathered you up in his arms, standing up and taking you with him.

Your legs would have given way if we’re not for him keeping his grip — a grip which wandered upwards, catching the little metal hooks of your dress. He thrust his tongue inside your mouth, and the harsh frenzy delighted you, welcoming all of it as you opened for him wider. A shuddered breath escaped you at the hooks being undone by his hands, one by one till you felt your gown loosen.

At the last hook, Hyunjin pulled the sleeves off your arms, and the dress fell to the floor, leaving you with your corset and petticoats. You were caught off guard when he swivelled you around, you feeling the tugs of lace being unravelled with each pull of his fingers. The kisses did not cease, being rewarded at the crook of your neck. Each caress of his lips sent shivers down your spine — more so when he eased off the corset from your body, tugging off your petticoats along with it. 

All that was left was a thin, loose chemise, everything shown clearly beneath the white veil of its fabric. The man turned you to face him again, and his gaze turned molten at the sight that welcomed him. Taking your lips in his, he ripped off his own attire — the long coat, waistcoats, every piece from the waist up being discarded. He had to break away for a moment to take his shirt off, and you caught the sight of his lean figure, turned golden in the light. 

You could not help reaching out, running your curious fingers against his skin, soft and warm beneath your touch. He dared not speak, fearing you would take away your hand, but that was the last thing you wanted to do. 

Tonight, you did not want distance — and neither did he.

Kissing you again, he pulled the lace in front of your chemise, loosening the attire until, with wandering hands, he dropped the last layer you upheld. Slowly, never leaving your lips, he backed you against the bed, holding you steady as he laid you upon the sheets. You never let go of him, aching to take all of him in your mouth, taste his very soul till it was the only thing that remained on your tongue. 

“Fuck—” a curse escaped him as he broke away, catching the swelling of your lips. His gaze trailed downwards, upon your breasts which perked at the sight. “You’re so—so beautiful, I—”

Trails of open-mouthed kisses attacked you after, falling upon your breasts where Hyunjin began swiping his tongue along the nipple. The foreign wave of pleasure had you ripping out the most atrocious moan, caring less if the whole manor were to hear. 

While his tongue played with you, his fingers worked at his trousers, unbuckling his belt as he peeled off the clothing, tossing it to the ever growing pile. You craned your head forward, glancing at the bulge near bursting from his underwear. A quivering sigh escaped you, rendering louder by the quickening of his actions.

Getting rid of his underwear, his cock sprung free, and you were surprised you had not passed out from the mere sight, red and angry and too bloody big. You could not stop staring, hard to believe that a man could possess such...such substantial anatomy.

“Like what you see, angel?” Your husband mused, leaving his place upon your nipple. Flustered, you tried to look away, but it was no use, when the man caught your chin with his fingers. “I’m surprised you can be shy even now.”

That did not help with your situation, causing you to heat drastically beneath his touch. Chuckling, he dropped a little kiss upon your nose before resting his forehead against yours. 

Grasping his cock, he levelled it against your leaking cunt, the head teasing your folds. Even the small action had you seething, the warm residue sending shockwaves across your body. You held onto his neck, fearing you would lose yourself if you dared not hold onto him.

His midnight eyes turned to yours, noses brushing. “This may hurt for a second, ____,” he confessed, voice barely a murmur. “But I promise I will make that second up to you.”

Nodding slightly, you watched only him as his gaze travelled downwards. Fear threatened to take over, but one look at your husband, and it all faded.

With a final prayer to the heavens, Hyunjin began his descent.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his cock slid into your cunt. A heightened whine bubbled up to your throat, and you let it free with each inch that entered, terrified that this man could break you with what he slipped inside you. Your walls tightened with its entrance, and the more you voiced out the more he tended, peppering sweet kisses upon your cheeks.

You did not know how long it was till he stopped, letting you adjust to him inside you. Your eyes threatened to bulge out of their sockets, yet your husband was a huge comfort, circling smooth strokes upon your hip with his thumb, holding your face as he held the universe in his hands.

Breathing deeply, he glanced at you — a nod was your response to his consoling gaze, knowing what he meant.

With that, the duke began to pull out.

He was slow, just as he was when he first entered you. He was gradual, languid, and the terror that haunted you was replaced with a new, different kind of high. 

You had never felt something so pleasurable.

You revealed your surprise to Hyunjin, stare glistening at the foreign sensation — your entire body was up in the clouds, relishing the slow withdrawal and the skill he brought in the bedroom. You were so sure that he was terrified too, scared of ruining this, but all you could feel was pure, unadulterated delight.

When the head reached the beginning of your folds once again, you thought that this was it — there was no more to be done, and your contentment was short-lived.

However, your husband surprised you as he slid inside you once again. 

This time, there was a slight increase of pace, and it kept getting better, your feelings heightening with each passing second as he dipped further into you. He was so unbelievably good, knowing just how to make you whimper — God, his gaze was enough to undo you, ablaze with all the hellfire from the underworld. The devil worked hard, but Hyunjin worked overtime, bottoming out into you once more.

From that point on, your bodies began to move in sync, you giddily moving your hips along with his, aching to have him inside the whole time. Your hands carded through his velvety locks, taking out the ribbons so his hair fell all about him, curtailing his face as he rocked back and forth upon you. By God, he was so exquisite, something straight out of an artist movement, despite the sweat beading down his forehead, despite the parted mouth, the slight panting.

“H-Hyunjin—” you began, interrupted by another sharp moan from his efforts. “Hyunjin, I think I’m close—”

This time, you were interrupted by his lips upon your neck, teething love bites everywhere upon your skin. He hummed against you at your warning, and thrusted his cock into you. The head reached a certain spot which had you seeing seventh heaven, seeing truth and peace and everything in between, because fuck, he knew where to strike.

You did not know how long it had been till you felt yourself dizzying, the feeling in your lower abdomen warning you of its leash snapping. Hyunjin, aware that you were close, only brought his fingers to your clit, prodding at the bud till tears stung your eyes. 

“I...fuck, angel—!” He gasped between thrusts, pressing sloppy kisses upon your lips. “Look at you, all...all messed up from my cock!”

Heightened wailing was your response, broken murmurs being spewed from your lips. Hastily the man shook his head, revelling in your utter ruination.

“Ah—! Come on now!” he cooed in his husky rasp, holding onto your head. “Say it for me, darling.”

A part of you did not think you could manage, but you had to if it meant he would bring you relief. The duke may have been the love of your life, but he was still, undoubtedly, a smug bastard. 

Despite that, you could not believe how easily you resorted to begging. 

“Please, Hyunjin!” You pleaded in half-pants, the tears spilling when he delved into that one particular spot again. “Make me do—whatever the hell I do, damn it!”

Huffing out a small laugh, the man held onto you a little tighter, retaining his grin. “Oh, ____,” he said, and the next words slipped out in his haze of lust, not realising he had revealed something of terrible importance.

After planting another disheveled kiss, he murmured, “You are so lucky that I love you.”

You did not have time for this declaration to settle before your husband obliged you in the best possible way; his thrusting turned erratic, fast and uneven, and the increased pace of his fingers was too much, all at once.

You had no choice but to let out a cry as you spilled onto him — some escaped from your walls and stained the sheets, whimpering breaths keeping you alive. His ministrations slowed as well, fingers stopping at your clit. 

Watching you undo yourself for him was certainly the last straw for him — for the first time he released into you, grunting at the impact. Parts of his orgasm, too, sullied the sheets, but that was the least of his concerns, as he held onto you for dear life, nearly shattering his entire self upon you.

Pulling out of you, he collapsed beside you on the bed, his deep breaths breaking the silence. You, too, panted for a while, gazing up at the dark ceiling. 

You expected your first thought to be utter delight at your first time. You had finally done what no one in polite society ever told you about, and it was so wonderful that you doubt anyone would have shared in your fortune. 

However, your mind was occupied with another matter entirely.

You are lucky that I love you.

You closed your eyes. 

Hyunjin loved you. Hwang Hyunjin, your best friend and husband, loved you when you thought it impossible.

Something within you then wondered if it was too good to be true.

“____?”

Noticing your name, you turned, finding the very man staring at you — in a way which would have your theories proven true. You did not know about yourself, but seeing him before you, black locks disheveled, skin glistening from sweat, you could not deny that anyone would fall for him if they saw him now. 

You tried to push your emotions past you, blinking back a bit of fatigue. “Yes?”

“Tell me what goes on in that mind of yours.” Turning over, he propped his arm, holding his head in his hand. “Are you alright?”

Perhaps you should have opted for a vague yes, but something in you did not want to beat around the bush anymore. You wished to tell him your truth.

“I was wondering about what you said,” you began, reflecting his position. 

“I have said many things, darling,” the man drawled. “What do you specifically mean?”

“Well…” you tried to avoid his gaze, but you knew by now that evading Hyunjin was useless. “Before I...you know…”

“Know what?” He mused, which had you rolling your eyes. 

“You know what I mean!” Sighing, you continued, constantly looking at his features. “Well, just before that, you said something to me...is it true?”

Silence fell on the room as your husband pondered at your question. His eyebrows raised, and you realised that he had figured it out.

“Ah, yes,” he said, nodding. “I know exactly what you speak of.”

You waited for his response, suddenly aware of how naked you were in this bedroom. Dread curled at your stomach, and you debated grabbing the sheets and sneaking out of the manor. 

That is when Hyunjin gave you his answer. Gave it to you as he took your hand in both of his, pinning you with a stare he reserved only for you.

“They are the truest words I have spoken.”

He leaned into you, and your heart fluttered, much more dramatically now because of what he revealed.

A soul-saving smile adorned his lips. “Despite our circumstances, it was inevitable that I would fall, and I thank the heavens that I did. I love you, ____, even if you cannot return the feeling. I love you as the friend I never had.

“I love you because you are the most inspirational woman I have ever had the pleasure to meet.” 

When he finished, you wondered whether you had the words to respond to a confession as heart-wrenching as the one your husband blessed you with. Tears pricked the corners of your vision, and you leaned into his hands which cupped your face.

Brushing his lips against yours, you willingly accepted, giving him all the affection you garnered within you for so long. The tears trailed down your cheeks, and you had to pull away, hands curling at his locks.

“I-I…” you sniffled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hyunjin, I-I love you so much—”

The man’s heart burst from his chest.

His rashness got the better of him, interrupting you with a searing kiss as he sunk his teeth into your bottom lip. 

Never in his lust-hazed mind did he foresee you reciprocating his affection.

He was ready to spend eternity in a one-sided relationship. He was ready to stomach the melancholy you brought if you were to fall for another, or if you simply never loved at all, blankly living your life without any form of affection to give.

But…to have you fall for him. 

What he said to you was wrong.

You were not lucky that he loved you.

He was lucky that you loved him. 

So the Duke of Hastings, pulling the clean sheets upwards, showed you how lucky he was, deepening the kiss and you offering all of you again, moving your lips along with his. 

And in this night, the two of you made another revelation — that perhaps reality was not the villain in the both of yours tales after all. 

THE DAYS AFTER THE BALL WERE NOTHING BUT EUPHORIA.

You wondered whether it was all a dream, with the happiness that followed without any strings attached. 

The passionate endeavours between the two of you did not stop at Seungmin’s manor — hands wandered in the carriage back home, and the moment you stepped at Lansdowne, Hyunjin backed you against the wall and ripped your dress right off, never wanting to stop ravishing you. You did not stop him, did not want to stop him, when you waited so long for him to engulf you without any barriers. By the time you both stopped in the shy hours of dawn, you had been drained of all physical strength, but filled with mental joy.

You fell in love with Hwang Hyunjin, and had the fortune of this love reciprocated. 

Sometimes, you wondered if it was all a dream — a twisted, subliminal illusion, tricking you into believing that marital life is what every writer writes of in the end, the solution filled with flowers and sweet kisses. You never thought, even in your wildest dreams, that you could achieve such bliss with another. 

Then, you would wake up with your husband’s arms around you, and finally understand. Finally comprehend what it meant, to never stray from a soul connected with yours. 

The weeks after also brought the finishing of your novel, your childhood dream all polished in your hands as you took it to the most famous publishers in town. You had fears of the reactions, as what you wrote during certain parts of the novel was borderline scandalous, but the men at the publishing house enjoyed the first few chapters you showed them, and asked for more on the next visit.

You were overjoyed by their reaction, but then doubt entered your mind at once — what if they were only agreeable to your writing because of your position? 

The thought soured your happiness. You did not want to be a writer because of your position in society, but because of your skill. There may have been thousands of other women with talents surpassing yours, but would never be able to achieve even the interest of a publisher. 

Hyunjin was the first to know of your news, and the worries which accompanied it. He listened to you on your second, third visits, scoffing at your disbelief of your turn of events. It was ridiculous in his mind how ardently you doubted yourself, waving off the publishers’ interests in your novel as sheer luck, or your station as the Duchess of Hastings. He assured you many a time, that your flair in creating stories surpassed no man or woman living in London. 

He knew those publishers well — well enough to know that they had never released a novel written by a woman, no matter how influential she may have been. Knowing you had managed to enter consideration for publishing was a feat in itself. The duke had absolutely no doubt that he would see your works in the hands of every person who knew how to read.

What you did not expect, however, was the request from the publishers to have your novel anonymously published. You demanded a reason, and they provided a whole list — women writing was only considered a secondary activity, and if word were to reach the city of a Duchess writing books instead of tending to her family, then it would cause an outrage. You could not believe your ears, despite a small part of you expecting this setback. 

You wanted your name on the book. 

Confiding in your husband once more, you told him of the condition, angrily pacing back and forth in your home. “It is simply...awful!” you spat, locking your hands behind your back, turning the room once more. Hyunjin watched you with a concerned look passing over his features as he looked up from his book. “Why should I hide my identity? I am proud of what I wrote, damn it!”

The man let out a sigh. “I think you should keep the name anonymous.”

That had you pausing. “I beg your pardon?” you demanded, thundering over to him. “Are you saying I conform to their conditions?”

“I am not suggesting it because of their reasoning. I know they are still too ashamed to try publishing a woman’s creation.” 

Closing his book, he set it to the side table. “My love, there is nothing that brings me more joy than seeing you accomplish your dreams. I want more than anything to boast of your mind, and the writings it invents. However,” he continued, “I fear when the public sees your name printed on the novel, a controversial one at that, and see it that they attack you.”

“But that does not matter to me,” you responded, hands on your hips. “In fact, I welcome their criticism! Let me see what poppycock they want to say of my hard work.”

Hyunjin clamped his lips together, trying to hide a smile. “I am happy you do not care for such people, but it would damage your future writings. It would damage your future.”

When you frowned at him, he held out his hands. You closed the distance, settling upon his lap, sliding your arms around his shoulders, while he did the same around your waist. “Tell me, angel, do you wish to write after this?”

“Of course.”

“Well, see it like this,” he began. “Let us say you publish the novel anonymously. It would be in instant circulation, and everyone would read it, no matter who they are. Why? Because your identity is hidden. There would be no bias against you.”

“So?” you asked, and Hyunjin gave you a look. “Okay, okay, continue!”

“As I was saying,” he carried on, “This would not only help you gain an initial audience, but, if you do wish to reveal yourself after that, then it would be perfect. You would have not only shown the public that a woman had written such a brilliant novel, but anyone who would have had previous biases would either conform to reading your writing, or be furious that they had been tricked into reading a woman’s novel.” He then added, smirking, “Which, in my opinion, would be a very amusing situation to witness.” 

You thought over what he said, mind in slight conflict. “In the end, though, it is your choice,” he reassured you. “Whatever you do, you have my undeterred support.”

The little addition had you smiling. “You make valid points,” you admitted, which had the man releasing a chuckle.

“You say that as if I have no intelligence,” he jeered, pulling you closer. “You will be thanking me when all of this goes as I predicted.”

“Don’t push it,” you countered. “We both know you have been proved wrong many times.”

“Hmmm…” he trailed off, leaning in, brushing his lips upon your skin. “At least I know I am right about one thing.”

“Oh?” Your head began to swim as he trailed a few lingering kisses up your neck. “And...and what would that be?”

He did not answer you — only offered an alluring smile before pressing his lips against yours. A soft hum left you as he moved his mouth against yours, slow and languid, teasing his tongue against the seams. 

You would have offered yourself right then and there if he had not broken away, drumming his fingers against your waist. The smile darkened as he gave you his reply.

“You cannot resist me, angel.” 

That, no matter how much it worked against your favour, was an undoubted fact.

After this though, you made your decision to keep anonymous, letting the publishers know of your change of heart. You knew that what Hyunjin said made sense, and, if your novel does receive recognition, then revealing yourself would create a huge statement in London society, positive or not. With this in mind, brought the final edited drafts of your work, and received information of the commissions and percentages taken by the publishing house.

Because the release of your novel was to take some time, you had some freedom with your everyday activities, which were once taken up by the constant editing. The duke, luckily, had begun to employ much more able men in his authority, and so his work was decreased significantly, to the point where he had days to spend with you alone.

During that waiting period, he suggested the two of you retreat to Hemingford, where you both spent your honeymoon. Your smile never left as you jumped at the idea, the man in turn making arrangements for the earliest carriage out of the city. 

Within two days, you were welcomed by the little manor, nestled in the gifts of nature. You found yourself warming to the whole place once more, memories of the past months returning in a flash. Images of the many groves of trees, small network of rivers and a special presence, soothed you in every part you walked through. You nearly forgot how dear Hemingford was to you in the chaos of city life, engulfing its regal, almost mystical atmosphere. A part of you hoped that the book would take forever to be published, so you could never leave the natural retreat Hyunjin’s ancestors had created.

The man himself was glad he opted to take you to the manor — he saw your nerves slowly taking over in London, and knew that the more you stayed in Lansdowne, the more the wait was going to eat you alive. Aware of your attachment towards this place, he made it his personal mission to bring you here, and try to provide you with a little peace. When he caught that certain smile of yours when your eyes fell on the manor and the gardens around it, he felt half his worries melting away in the spring air.

He hated seeing you so unnerved. 

After a few days resting in paradise, the situation was changed for the better. You, breathing in the very earth beneath your feet, observing the trees curved over you like a concerned parent, thought that you could stay here forever. Receiving a letter from the publishers’ of the near completion of copies made only brightened your spirits, and you sighed out into nature.

“Is something the matter?”

Perking up, you saw Hyunjin, who walked over from behind you. 

“Ah...not much,” you said, watching him settle beside you on the bench you sat upon, folding one dark-clad leg over the other. In his hands possessed a book of deep-shaded red, which he held with great care. “Thinking about the letter today.”

“I see.” His eyes wandered down to his fingers. “Actually, I do have something for you, relating to the subject.”

“Oh?” You followed his trail. “Does this book have something to do with it?”

“However did you figure that out?” He drawled, but then he faced you properly, unfolding his leg. “Here.”

You took the possession, eyes on him. “Whose book is it?”

A knowing smile escaped his lips. “Look at the front, angel.”

Curious, you obliged, checking the title. 

You completely stilled. 

Written on the front was the name of your novel. 

“Oh my God,” you got out, holding it with both hands, opening it to the pages. There it all was, inscripted upon the hundreds of pieces of paper.

Your writing.

Your sleepless nights, your labour, your every ounce of strength, tied together by paper and leather and string. 

Rushing, you opened to a random section of the novel, smile widening at the typewriter’s neat, cleaner version of your manic scribbles. The dialogue, the description of each environment — it was there before you, but this time it was not in your head, whirling indefinitely without a place to explain itself.

It was all on paper — in your very hands.

“H-Hyunjin,” you stammered out, not realising your heart was becoming a little too heavy. “Oh my God—where did you get this? Have they—they have begun to sell copies already?”

“Oh Lord,” your husband murmured, hands on your shoulders. “No, no, my love, this was of my own doing.”

When he caught the confused expression upon your aghast face, he explained further. “Before we left for London, I paid a visit to the publishers’, who had started typing up copies of your book. I requested the first copy made be given to me.”

His thumbs began to stroke soothing circles onto your skin. “I know you would have wanted to hold it in your hands before anyone else.”

Heavens above. He truly knew you so well.

You focused back on the book, closing it as you ran your fingers over the leather cover. “I…”

“No need,” he said, giving you an amused grin. “I already know I am the best husband one could ask for.”

He expected his banter to be returned, but you responded to him with a heart-shattering smile.

Holding out the book, you propped it in his hands. “I want you to have it, Hyunjin.”

This time, it was his turn to be confused. “Am I missing the joke here?”

You held his gaze, albeit with much difficulty. “I promised you something once, quite a long time ago. All my firsts are yours.” 

Your hand reached out, brushing against his. “This is my first novel. My most prized possession.” A pause, before holding that state with all your might. “I would want nothing more than for you to keep it.”

The duke used his every ounce of strength not to cry upon the bench. “Well then…” he began, taking the book from you. He turned to the front page, which was blank, save for the title name again, and the written anonymously typed onto its surface. “Well, ____, you must sign it for me!”

A laugh escaped you at that. “An autograph?” You jested, spluttering further when the man brought out his fountain pen, opening the cap. “I suppose with this enthusiasm, I shall throw in a little message.”

Hyunjin slapped a hand to his chest, brows raising in mock surprise. “By God, you spoil me!”

“Give it here!” You retorted, taking the pen and book once more as you found the landing page. 

You pondered for a few minutes on what to write, earning a few hurry ups! and the occasional she does not love me after all, the latter greatly exaggerated. Berating him, you finally thought of the words, arriving straight from the heart. 

Finishing off, you gave the novel back. “Let us see what faux sweetening you have made for me,” he chortled, eyes lowering to the text.

His grin began to fade as he read the message in his mind.

TO THE MAN WHO WAS MY FIRST FRIEND, MY FIRST KISS, AND NOW MY FIRST LOVE.

HERE’S TO MANY MORE FIRSTS WITH YOU. I KNOW THEY WILL ALL LAST. 

I LOVE YOU. 

Hyunjin knew that the sting in his eyes was not the spring breeze.

Slowly, he looked up, catching you staring at him with a smile—loving smile upon your face. A shuddered breath left his lips, unable to form the words.

“Oh no,” you began, jesting despite tears welling up in your own eyes. “It seems the duke believes in my faux sweetening after all.”

A coughed laugh left him at that, trying to clamp his lips together from smiling, but his emotions refused him to suppress himself. His eyes crescented, adding to his near teary grin. Propping the book to the side, he offered his familiar stare, laced with every fibre of affection.

“Come here.”

You jumped at the command, leaning closer as he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you to him. He moulded his lips against yours, and you readily accepted him, offering yourself up entirely for him — as if you were not completely his by your own choice.

The slight madness laced upon his mouth had you whining onto him, taking in the entirety of his affection as you opened up to him. Your request was teased upon with his tongue, sliding along your bottom lip, but the man pulled away, panted breaths fanning your mouth.

He pressed his forehead against yours, fingers holding onto your face as if letting go would cause you to stray. “I…” he let out a deep, trembling breath. “I love you, ____. So much.”

Your heart would never tire of the declaration. “I love you too, Hyunjin.”

And as he claimed your lips once more, you wondered whether you had finally achieved what every work of literature praised in the most elevated of languages. 

Still, at least you knew this — that once there was a duke who you promised all your firsts to, and had somehow found his way into your heart. 

There was once a woman, who refused to believe in love for herself, only for this duke to convince her otherwise, by falling for her completely.

Love stories may be a mere creation of the mind, but at least, at the very least, you knew.

Your love story was real. The first which was not mere fantasy, but real and true and tangible.

You had a feeling that this first, out of all the others you shared with the Duke of Hastings, was going to last.

[sunshinesteviee]

Ok but what about finding out you’re pregnant and being afraid to tell Tom because you haven’t made your relationship public (even though it’s been years) and you don’t want this to effect his career but he finds out somehow and is just the happiest and immediately wants to buy all the Abby things and baby proof the house and and and fluffy fluff. 🥺

the way this ended up being 1.2k lol what but thank u this is so soft 🥺

all i want

Eight letters stared up at you. For someone in a happy, healthy, and stable relationship of nearly five years with the man you were certain you wanted to marry and have kids with, the one small word shouldn’t have scared you so much. But it did. Pregnant. 

Though you’d been together going on five years, the two of you had somehow managed to keep your relationship under wraps. Outside of work, Tom was a private person and preferred to keep things that way, which was more than okay with you, as you didn’t particularly enjoy the spotlight. But now that you were pregnant… it would be much harder to hide it all. Nausea swirled in your stomach, but you couldn’t be sure if it was the anxiety or pregnancy. Or maybe the bit of excitement that was also mixed in. While you weren’t sure the timing was right, due to Tom’s career taking off, you and Tom had talked about having kids before, so there was also a part of you that fluttered with nervous excitement. You just couldn’t help that the anxiety seemed to be talking just a bit louder; you didn’t want to jeopardize Tom’s career or your relationship with him. 

Unsure of how you were going to tell Tom, you shoved the small pregnancy test to the back of one of your bathroom drawers. You’d have to think of the perfect way to tell him, as well as swallow a bit of your fear before you could break the news. And the back of the drawer seemed like the best solution for the time being. 

Only a few days later, Tom was rummaging through each and every single one of the bathroom drawers, looking for one of the new, spare toothbrushes you always had lying around, as his had just slipped out of his hands and onto the floor. While he knew this specific drawer was usually full of your hair products, he could really never be certain where you stashed stuff and was looking in every drawer just to be safe. 

Spotting the test at the back of the drawer, but unsure of what it was, Tom pulled it out. It had been upside down, so he wasn’t exactly sure what it was until he flipped it over. Pregnant. Tom’s heart began racing, a grin breaking out on his face as he read the words again to make sure he’d read it correctly. You were pregnant. 

If there was one thing in life that Tom was sure of, it was that you were the person he wanted to spend his life with; to get married, have kids, and grow old together. And the possibility that that could start now excited him. He wasn’t sure how long you’d known, or why you hadn’t told him yet, be he wasn’t worried. He knew you would tell him when you felt ready to. So, instead, he tucked the small test back into the back of the drawer, and thought of ways he could potentially hint to it, to let you know that it was okay. 

Over the next few days, Tom insisted that you get to bed early to get as much rest as possible, refused to let you carry anything heavy, and had even bought you some of your favorite chocolates, just when you started to crave them. And, when he had been at the store, he saw the smallest, cutest Spider-Man onesie he’d ever seen, and couldn’t resist buying it. He’d give it to you when you were ready. 

It was only a few more days later when you finally felt ready to tell Tom. Fear was still eating you up inside, but you’d sat with the secret for nearly a week, and it was killing you to keep it from Tom. You decided that after dinner was the best time, and retrieved the rest from the back of the drawer, keeping it hidden in your pocket until you were ready. 

Tom got out of his chair, scooping up his plate and yours to bring them to the kitchen, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he walked by. Deciding it was now or never, you quickly pushed your chair back, and followed Tom into the kitchen. He had already started rinsing dishes and putting them into the dishwasher, so you took a seat at one of the stools at the counter. 

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Tom humming to himself as he continued to clean up the mess made during dinner. Taking a deep breath, you clasped your hands together and finally looked up at your boyfriend, “Tom?”

“Yes, my love?” Tom replied, back still facing you. 

“I, umm… I have something to tell you. It’s important.”

This for Tom’s attention, and he quickly dried his hands on a towel, turning around, eyes wide as he quickly blurted out, “Okay, just hold that thought! I’ll be right back!”

“No, Tom, it’s really—“ 

He was already halfway up the stairs before you could finish your sentence, taking them two at a time so he could get back to you as quickly as possible. You never quite understood what was going through his head. To his credit, though, he was back in a minute, holding a small gift bag in his hands. 

“What is that?” you asked, utterly confused as to what it could be for, and why it was so important. 

“You’ll find out, darling. What did you want to tell me?”

You shook your head in amusement, and then turned on the stool to face Tom. Your heart was racing but you knew you had to do it now, “I’m pregnant, Tom.”

A huge smile broke out on Tom’s face as he closed the space between you, moving to stand between your legs. Without saying anything, he held the small bag out to you, placing one of his hands on your knee. 

Furrowing your eyebrows together, you took the bag and slowly pulled the wrapping out of it, only to find the small onesie Tom had bought. Your eyes filled with tears as your head whipped up, a smile tugging at your lips, “You knew? How?”

Tom laughed as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in as close as possible, “I accidentally found the test in the drawer a few days ago.” His lips pressed to the top of your head, the warm palm of his hand running over your back, “I’m so happy, darling.”

At this, you burst into tears from the relief. Your voice came out muffled against his shirt, “Y-you’re not mad?”

“Love, how could I be mad?” he questioned, pulling back just enough to cup your cheeks in his hands. He was staring at you seriously, a few tears welling in his eyes now as he looked at you, thumb brushing over your cheek to wipe away your tears. 

“I-I don’t know,” you hiccuped, leaning into his touch, “Th-that I didn’t tell you right away. Or, or maybe it’s just not the right time, the public doesn’t even know we’re together, and I—“

Tom cut off your nervous rambling with a soft kiss to your lips, “I couldn’t be mad about this. We’re having a baby. I love you so much, sweetheart, this is all I could ever want.” 

“We’re having a baby,” you repeated with a soft laugh, giving Tom another kiss, “I love you so much, Tom.” 

“This weekend, we’ll go to the store and start buying stuff, okay? Bottles, a crib, diapers—“

[jcwriting]

There’s A First Time For Everything

summary ↬ namjoon has never had a blowjob before. you’re about to change that.

pairing ↬ idol!namjoon x reader

genre ↬ smut, pwp (im not kidding there is zero plot to this), fluff, (new) established relationship 

word count ↬ 2.8k

warnings ↬ swearing, oral (m receiving), face fucking, choking, reader has a painful thigh kink (don’t we all), overuse of the word thigh

authors note ↬ listen,,,,i saw that picture of namjoon in shorts (you know the one) and i just,,,lost it. also, this is my first time posting fic for bts and im shitting bricks about it so pls be nice to me!!!!! i hope you enjoy this quick (thirsty) little ode to namjoon’s thighs. pls let me know what you think!

also, the gif above haunts me. everyday. okay, enjoy.

“I want to give you a blowjob.”

Namjoon choked on the swig of water he had just taken. The two of you were watching TV. Actually, Namjoon was watching TV. You were sitting on the floor at the coffee table with your laptop out to answer some work emails. But, you were distracted. Specifically by Namjoon’s shorts. More specifically, Namjoon’s thighs in said shorts. The smooth golden skin was begging for your lips and your fingers itched to scratch your nails down to his knees. Then, your eyes naturally glided further up to the apex of his thighs. Where you knew his cock was resting. Again, just begging to be in your mouth. The thought of your jaw and throat aching while he lost it above you consumed your mind. All hope was lost then.

“You…um. Sorry. You want to do that?”

You cocked your head to the side. “Uh, yeah. Wait, did you want me to ask? I’ll ask. Can I give you a blowjob? Please?”

Namjoon chuckled. “No, no. You don’t have to ask. It’s just, y’know, are you sure?”

“Yes,” you said slowly. What was he not getting? “Do you not want one?”

“No! No, oh my god. I want that. I definitely want that. That’s not the issue.”

“Then, what is?”

Namjoon blew out a breath that fluttered the hair that rested on his forehead. He cupped the back of his neck and rubbed awkwardly. “I’ve never had someone do that to me before. So-”

“What?” You would have been less shocked if he had told you that he was a closeted furry. The two of you had only been dating for about a month so the in-depth what things did your ex do in bed conversation hadn’t been fully fleshed out yet. You knew he had lost his virginity to his previous girlfriend and they had had a healthy sex life, so you had just assumed that him receiving oral was part of that. Yet…this man, this absolute Adonis of a man had never gotten his cock sucked? It was the most absurd thing you had ever heard in your life. “Hold on. You had a girlfriend before me, right? She didn’t go down on you? Ever?”

Namjoon looked like he wanted the couch to swallow him whole but you barely noticed. You were too busy experiencing the shock of your fucking life. “I did. But she - uh, no. She didn’t want to and I didn’t want to pressure her.”

Your heart melted a little before you shut your laptop. Healthy sex life your ass. You were sucking this mans dick and that was final. “I’m going to give you a blowjob, Namjoon. Right now.” You turned to him and began crawling forward. His eyes flew to your ass that swayed in the air and he audibly swallowed. “If you don’t want me to then you need to tell me within the next thirty seconds.”

“Oh God,” he whimpered and spread his legs a little wider. You were salivating. “Yes. As long as you’re sure-” Whatever he was going to say was cut off by a heavy groan as your hands slid up his thighs. Finally, you smiled to yourself as you bent your fingers and allowed your nails to dig into the meat of his inner thigh.

“I have a thing for your thighs,” you murmured. “Never realized I had a thigh kink until I met you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want to ride your thighs. Will you let me?”

“God, yes.” Namjoon went to reach for your arms but you batted his hands away. This wasn’t about you right now. This was about him. You reached for your hair and quickly pulled it into a sloppy bun. His eyes followed your movements and you didn’t miss how the bulge in his shorts twitched.

“I need you to tell me if I do something that you don’t like, okay? I want to make you feel good. Don’t be afraid to talk to me. If you like something, let me know. If not, then definitely let me know.” Namjoon nodded feverishly. His eyes were almost black and his chest was straining against his white top. You smirked to yourself. This was going to be fun.

Bending down, you pressed a kiss to the top of his thigh. Your mouth dragged along his skin and you relished in the way he quivered beneath you. Following the seam of his leg before doing the same on the other. Nails pressed little crescent moons into his flesh before your thumbs smoothed over the marks. Your nose lifted the loose material of his shorts up to his hips and skimmed the exposed areas as your tongue reached out to flick the little freckle that found a home on his hip before you set your sights on his dick that was straining for you. Lips that had previously kissed his skin now moved to the fabric that jailed his heavy cock. Sitting back, your thumb traced the underside of his dick softly before you barely brushed over the head. The cotton dragged against your finger and Namjoon huffed loudly before lifting his hips further into your touch.

“Don’t tease.” Namjoon’s voice had lowered a few octaves and the deep tone had you clenching your thighs. His hands fisted the pillows next to him and you could feel the restraint he was exacting on himself through the trembling of his muscles.

“I’m not,” you promised. “I’m just making sure you’re ready.”

“I am. Swear to God.”

Unable to keep the smile off your face, you nodded and reached for the waistband of his shorts. He lifted his hips and helped you shove the material to his ankles. That was when you realized two things.

One, he was right. His cock laid thick and proud on his stomach and was weeping for you. He was of average length but his girth let you know that were going to struggle to fit him in your mouth. The thought only made you shiver in delight. A phantom pain panged in your gut when you took in the slight curve of the head, knowing it was going to hit everything you needed.

Second, he had the prettiest cock you had ever seen. You never thought dicks were pretty. In fact, you were pretty resolute on that thought. Most likely due to the disgusting amount of unsolicited dick pics you had received in your life. But, Namjoon’s?  You wanted to take a picture, frame it and admire it whenever you wanted to. The skin that stretched around his width was a shade darker than the rest of him and his cock head, a pretty red color, made you want to see how far down you could get the flush to go.

You wrapped your hand around his length and twisted up. Namjoon’s back arched off the couch and a string of curses fell off of his lips. Your thumb collected the glistening pre-cum on his tip and used it to smooth your palm over him.

“I normally don’t say this,” you said as you became infatuated with the vein that ran along the underside of his cock, “but if you want to send me a dick pic, I definitely won’t complain. Like, ever.”

“B-baby, I’ll give you whatever you want. Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Namjoon moaned, throwing his head back when your thumb pressed against the delicate skin that resided under the his mushroom tip.

You giggled lightly. “So sensitive. I’ve barely even started.”

Namjoon opened his mouth to say something but you didn’t give him a chance. You licked the vein that had caught your eye earlier and followed it to the top before enveloping the head of him into the heat of your mouth. You relished the broken groan that he let out. Several kitten licks were placed on his weeping slit before taking him deeper. You worked slowly, gauging his reaction as you took him further. He responded well, panting and moaning in encouragement, head still thrown back against the couch.

“You can look at me, you know,” you reminded him as he popped out of your mouth. Kisses were mouthed over the soft skin that was wrapped around the steel of his erection. Your hand used your spit as lube to tug him harder.

“Can’t,” Namjoon gasped. “Gonna blow my load if I watch you.”

“That’s kind of the whole point.”

“Not yet,” he whined. “I don’t want this to be over.”

You pinched his hip until he met your gaze, offering him a sweet smile. “This isn’t going to be the last time I get on my knees for you, baby.” You held his wide-eyed stare as you took him back into your mouth. Ignoring how his hands seemed to flutter around you, unsure of what to touch, you focused on sliding him further into your mouth. Then, you sucked hard, using your tongue to lave at the warm skin.

Namjoon lost it above you. He released a strangled moan that caused your core to absolutely gush. One hand finally tangled into your hair and the other gripped your shoulder with warning, which you ignored. You merely sucked and pulled harder. Namjoon’s hips flexed, causing the tip of him to slam into the back of your throat. Not expecting it, you couldn’t help but cough around him as your eyes watered.

“Oh, God! I’m so sorry.” Namjoon used the hand on your shoulder to yank you off. His thumbs wiped at the tears that trickled down your cheeks, the concern etched across his face made you feel warm inside. “Shit, are you okay?”

“I am, promise,” you assured him. “Just give me a second, okay?”

He nodded while pushing back some of your hair that had escaped your sloppy up-do. You gently removed his hands before looking down at his length that was still clutched in yours. As much as he had shocked you, the thought of him fucking your face was not something you shied away from. Really, it was exactly what you wanted. But you needed to prep a bit first.

When you took him back in your mouth, you focused on relaxing the muscles in your throat. Breathing deeply through your nose, you slowly worked yourself further down until your nose was pressed into the base of him. Spit trickled out of your mouth and over his balls as you pulled back. You did this a few more times, working past your gag reflex and allowing your throat to get used to the intrusion.

Namjoon was anything but quiet as you deep throated him. It was honestly the sexiest thing you had ever heard. While your past lovers hadn’t necessarily been quiet, the praises Namjoon kept raining on you and the beautiful noises he made were music to your ears. Your body certainly agreed. Your cunt ached to be filled and the fabric of your panties was soaked through. But, you ignored your needs and focused on the panting man before you.

“Okay,” you nodded as you popped him out of your mouth. “I’m ready.”

It took Namjoon’s brain a few seconds to process what you said. He shifted restlessly on the couch cushions as you ran your hands over his thighs. “Huh? W-what did you say?”

“I’m ready for you to fuck my face.”

His pupils were blown wide as he stared at you with an open mouth. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What if I want it to hurt?” You stared at him while purring the words that was his undoing. Namjoon’s eyes got impossibly darker as his chest expanded with a sharp intake of breath. He spread his legs wider and gently held the back of your head as he guided you down his shaft. You held eye contact with him as he cautiously raised his hips to meet your lips. Once he saw no signs of distress from you, he began thrusting more consistently as you bobbed your head to match his rhythm.

His steady movements didn’t last long but it didn’t bother you. You were more than happy to take over for him. Like you said, this wasn’t going to be the last time you worshipped his cock. The two of you had plenty of time to figure things out. Plus, knowing how much you clearly affected him gave you all the motivation you needed.

Your throat began to tense up again so you focused your attentions on his sensitive head and let your hands twist up to your mouth and back down. The sounds of your palm gliding along his slick skin and your lips sucking tightly filled the spacious living room. They were nearly drowned out by Namjoon, though.

“Baby, oh f-fuck…shit,” he keened loud and hard when your other hand moved to brush over his swollen balls. You cupped them gently and rolled them between your fingers. Even as he was practically thrashing against you, hips thrusting in an aimless rhythm, the hand he had originally placed on the back of your head remained there. He applied no pressure, allowing you to set the pace, but it also seemed to ground him. To remind him that this wasn’t a dream.

“M’gonna cum. Baby…baby, I’m gonna cum. Soon, oh God,” he babbled. You appreciated the warning but you didn’t need it. He was twitching wildly in your mouth and your tongue was coated with the salty essence of his pre-cum. In response, you ran your index finger on that sensitive spot behind his balls and that’s when Namjoon exploded.

Thick ropes of white shot down your throat, causing you to almost gag. Instead, you swallowed past the reflex and took as much as you could. By the fourth stream, a bit had managed to slip past the suction of your mouth and dribble down his cock. You were quick to clean up, licking at the mess the both of you had made before returning to his tip. You suckled the sensitive head until Namjoon practically shoved you away from him.

When you looked up you were met with a glorious sight. Namjoon was completely fucked out, twitching against the couch and his broad chest heaving for air. Sweat beaded his sharp jaw line and trickled down the column of his throat. His face was tilted towards the ceiling and his hair was haphazardly pushed off of his forehead. He looked completely ruined and entirely yours.

“Was that good?” You asked softly as you rose to your feet, ignoring the sharp ache in your knees. Namjoon made an unintelligible sound in the back of his throat that you took as a resounding yes. He cracked his eyes open and looked at you with such adoration you couldn’t help but blush.

“Really?” He murmured. “Don’t get shy on me now. You can’t just suck the life out of me one second and then start blushing like a school girl immediately after.”

“It’s called duality,” you muttered as your cheeks flushed darker. Namjoon snorted and reached for you, pulling you onto his lap. His spent cock nestled between your thighs and his eyes rolled back into his head when he felt the simmering heat through the fabric of your shorts.

“I need five minutes. Then, I swear to God, I’m going to eat you out like you deserve.”

Giggling, you wrapped your arms around his neck, playing with the strands of hair at the base of his neck. “You don’t have to. This wasn’t a quid pro quo situation. I gave you a blowjob because I wanted to. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“It’s either you give me five minutes so that I can eat you out or ten minutes so I can fuck you into next week. You decide.”

His determination brought a smile to your face until you took in the purple bags under his eyes and how his eyelids kept drooping lower and lower. “How about a nap first, hm? I’ll decide after you get some sleep.”

Namjoon looked like he wanted to protest but you kissed him instead. His argument clearly wasn’t that strong because when you pulled away he was nodding in resignation. You helped him pull up his shorts and squealed when he lifted you up into his arms. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you let him carry you into the bedroom and wrap the both of you up in the comforter. You hadn’t planned on sleeping with him, wanting to get more work done while he slept. But the faint scent of his aftershave and the soft way he caressed your spine could lull an insomniac to sleep. Who were you to refuse?

“Wake me up when you decide,” Namjoon whispered into your hair. You nodded against his chest, and within minutes the two of you slipped into a deep slumber. Happy and content.

©jcwritings Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

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