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#i used to say all the time about my past main F/O i had lost from abuse from an IRL person 'i will never love anyone more'

chanluster · 3 years

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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.

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retrievablememories · 3 years

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love thy neighbor | kun (m)

title: love thy neighbor pairing: kun x black reader genre: fluff, smut, neighbors to lovers request: “Hello again Rain! I hope you're doing well and I'm happy to see you're open for requests again. Your writing in general is a treat to look forward to. An idea for a fic I'd like to suggest is wayv kun/black oc where they're neighbors that secretly pine for another and do feel free get very nsfw lmao. TY!” word count: 5.7k warnings: alcohol use, protected sex, dirty talk, dry humping, riding a/n: i used a prompt from this list of ideas to help me create this fic.

i’m sorry, this fic could’ve theoretically been finished long ago but took me 3893 years because kun intimidates me (and i don’t know why) and that makes it hard to write for him l m f a o chile anyway...

Your neighbor might actually kill you one day—but only in the figurative sense.

Kun is too beautiful and kind for your sanity; he’s like one of those men out of a romantic novel who simply should not exist. In other words, the ideal guy. One who helps all the little old ladies in the building take their groceries up to their apartments, one who feeds all the stray cats that hang around the complex, one who helps new tenants move their things in without even being asked.

Your roommate Charlotte would probably be totally smitten over him just like you if she did not already have her own happy relationship with her girlfriend. But since she does, she has decided to spend her time instead teasing you about your crush on him and trying to persuade you into getting tangled up in a matchmaking mess.

“I’m sure he already has a girlfriend, I don’t know, trying to shoot my shot seems ridiculous,” you say to her, worrying the edge of your blanket in your hands. You toss and turn on the couch, flipping onto your stomach and sighing before shuffling onto your back again. “People like that can never stay single for long. Right? They get snapped up quick.”

“You’d know if you simply asked,” Charlotte points out. “Staring holes into his head won’t help you find out more about him.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, your fingers stumbling over the blanket as it momentarily slips from your hands. Still, the idea of asking him if he’s dating anyone, whether discreetly or more openly, makes you nervous. You’ve talked to Kun several times before, even hung out with him at those friendly get-togethers your apartment building always holds to get the residents mingling, but you’re still anxious around him. It makes you feel silly, like you’re back in high school; but you aren’t quite sure what to do with those emotions or how to form them into something coherent. “Easy to say all that when you already have the person you want, though.”

“Oh, girl. Love is not easy, but that’s why you have to fucking work for it. AKA, go for what—or who—the hell you want and stop pining over him like some lost Juliet on our couch. It’s better than watching you flop around like a dying fish.”

You stand up from the couch abruptly, leaving your blanket to the side and glaring at her. “You don’t get it, ugh.”

“I get it! But you refuse to let me help—”

“Yes, because if I did, you’d say something completely ridiculous and tell him I’m madly in love with him or something.” You head to the bathroom to check yourself in the mirror.

Charlotte throws her hands up in surrender. “Hey, maybe. But that wouldn’t be a lie.”

“Really? I don’t think—”

“I think so. The way you talk about this guy, it’s definitely sounding a little like love to me.”

Once you’re satisfied, you come back in the main room and grab your keys, wanting to end this conversation before Charlotte sets a world record for how many times she can make you feel embarrassed. “Whatever you say. I’m gonna go to the corner store, so...speak now if you need something or forever hold your peace.”

“You can’t run from it,” Charlotte sing-songs, going back to reading her magazine. “And no, I don’t need anything.”

Once you get out your front door, it’s just your luck when you see Kun’s door is also open. You are not dressed for running into him, of all people; your “corner store” clothes being just a T-shirt, leggings, and slides. You freeze in place and momentarily think about unlocking your door and bolting back inside, which you realize is utterly ridiculous. By then, it’s too late; he’s already coming out his door and closing it behind him.

He perks up when he sees you outside, smiling at you with those deep dimples that make your insides melt. “Hey Y/N, good to see you.”

“Kun! Uh—great to see you too.”

“Are you going out somewhere?” he asks. Inwardly, he feels a bit silly for asking because you clearly are, keys in hand and everything.

“Yeah, just to the store to get a few things.” You wave your hand, and you almost have the urge to lean on your doorframe to appear more calm and collected than you are. Which could potentially end up looking sillier than you intended. “How about you?”

“Going to see a friend,” he answers, and he brushes his hand through his hair in a way that’s completely casual but somehow modelesque at the same time. This is unbelievable, you think to yourself. “We haven’t met up in a while, so…”

“Oh yeah, it’s always nice to go out with old friends,” you say, smiling at the thought of it. Kun nods his agreement, and then has an abrupt, wild idea to ask if you’d like to go out somewhere sometime. Too busy warring with himself over whether he should take the dive, he doesn’t notice you heading towards the stairs already. “I hope you two have a good time!”

“Oh—thanks. Hope you enjoy your trip.” He chuckles, following you down the steps to get to his car. Well, that moment has passed. Sure, he could probably still ask you now if he was bold enough about it, but it feels too awkward to randomly ask someone out in the middle of a stairwell.

You wave bye to him once you both get in the parking lot. He watches you walk to your car with a wistful smile on his face. He wants to say more to you, but the timing isn’t right and it’s best not to hold you up right now. Plus, Hendery’s probably already waiting for him.

It would’ve provided you with a lot of relief if you knew Kun was facing a similar dilemma to you. He’d never had much problem talking to women he liked in the past, but something about you made him feel clumsy and hesitant. But just like with your inability to move forward, there’s no way for you to know his feelings without him saying anything about it—which he has been hesitating over for the longest.

Maybe he was also still cowering from the embarrassment of the time he’d tried to show you a magic trick that didn’t quite work out, but it was a convenient excuse. At least for him, anyway.

One day he’d get the courage to tell you how he felt, but he didn’t think today was that day.

–

Some strong shots and a few hours at the club was exactly what you needed to unravel your nerves after a long week. You and a few others from your work had decided to go out that Saturday night as a group effort to unwind from dealing with your overbearing boss. “Just a couple shots” eventually turned into more than that, though, but you weren’t complaining. As long as it gave you the opportunity to discard all your issues for a while, you didn’t mind losing yourself a little.

However, your night of fun quickly dissolves into frustration when you realize you’ve lost your keys and have no way to get back into your apartment. You’re not even sure where they might’ve disappeared—in the club, or in the rideshare back to your apartment?

Charlotte is out of the city for the week visiting her long-distance girlfriend, so there’s no way you’re getting back in your apartment tonight. The main office won’t be open at this hour, either; it’s the weekend, and nobody will be there regardless until Monday. And you’re definitely not drunk enough or desperate enough to try to bust the door down.

Though it pains you to do so, you knock on Kun’s door, your head throbbing and dizzy. You feel bad about this. He won’t even be awake at this hour and might not answer, but you don’t know what other options you have. You aren’t familiar enough with your other neighbors to ask this of them. Especially not the old lady living on the other side of you who has a perpetually judgmental aura towards everyone in the apartment building. The only person she seems marginally approving of is none other than the man himself—Qian Kun.

It takes a good minute or two, but you hear the latch unlock, and Kun is suddenly standing in front of you, a look of concern on his sleepy face. He is adorable like this, in his pajamas and his hair mussed and his eyes foggy with sleep. He’s so cute it makes you want to cry—and so you do.

But your tears are mostly because you’re very tipsy and tired and currently locked out of your very comfortable apartment.

This awakens Kun immediately. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” He gently pulls you into his apartment, his tone quiet but panicked as you put your face in your hands and cry. You just shake your head for a few moments, crying too much to say anything to him. When you don’t reply, he doesn't try to press you for answers; he just puts his arms around you, a bit carefully as if you’re made of some easily breakable material, and lets you wet his T-shirt with your tears.

Finally, when you’ve collected yourself some, you abruptly feel foolish for crying over something like this. He probably thinks someone’s died, and you’ve gotten him all worked up for practically nothing. “I-I’m locked out,” you sigh heavily, and he has enough politeness not to outwardly react to your alcohol breath with your close proximity. “And my roommate is gone…forever.”

His eyebrows lift. “Forever?”

“The whole week, Kun...but it feels like...f-forever.”

“Ah...I see. Is that why you were crying?”

You put your head back in your hands. “Just kill me.”

“Don’t feel bad about it,” Kun says, and there is a tiny lift to his mouth like he wants to smile at your dramatics. “It’s fine. You can stay here tonight.”

“Kun, thank you.” You’re still loosely embracing each other, and you squeeze your arms more tightly around him. Maybe it’s just a reason to rest your head on his chest again and hear his heart beating strong against your cheek, but you wouldn’t admit that. Wait, why is his heart beating so fast? “Thank youuu, I love you so much, this means the world to me.”

Kun’s mind catches on the words I love you so much, and he knows you’re just drunk and need to sleep it off and aren’t really thinking about what you’re saying, but he cannot help lingering there for a moment. He’s glad the front room is still dim from the single lamp he turned on, otherwise you might notice the flush growing on his cheeks. “I...it’s no problem. We should get you comfortable, then.”

As it turns out, get you comfortable means he lets you sleep in his bed while he takes the couch. In another context you’d protest, not wanting to kick him out of his own space, but you are simply too smashed to think about it. You’re seconds away from falling asleep where you stand now that the adrenaline of discovering you’re locked out has worn off. Kun has the idea to make you drink some ice cold water, though, which wakes you up enough to take a proper shower.

By the time you get out of the shower and are wearing his clothes—his clothes—you are feeling a little more sober. You also feel like you’re going to have another small meltdown over all this. “This” being: wearing Kun’s clothes and standing in his bedroom, which is decorated with all his interests and treasured belongings. There’s a small studio setup in one corner, which interests you, but you don’t investigate it any further.

Now you have another little problem, though; what are you gonna do about the pillows? You don’t have anything to cover your hair with, with all your scarves and bonnets in your own apartment. One night of sleeping on a cotton pillow wouldn’t kill you, but that doesn’t make it any less distasteful to think about.

Kun comes into the bedroom to check on you and sees you puzzling around, sitting on the bed and looking awkward. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh. It’s nothing really,” you rush out, unsure if you should tell him about a problem he likely won’t even understand. It must be at least 4:00 a.m. by now, meaning you both desperately need to get some sleep.

“You can tell me, I won’t bite.”

I wouldn’t mind if you did pops into your head, but you immediately try to ignore that thought and are silently grateful that you do not blush visibly.

“Uh, my hair.”

“Your hair?”

“Okay, I need to cover it at night so it won’t get all broken off or anything—sleeping on cotton does wonders for destroying moisture—but I don’t have anything here to use. I mean—it’s...not a huge deal though, I can deal with it for a night?” You’re rambling now. Kun just nods, taking in all this information like he’s listening to something very important and very interesting.

“So then, what would you do to stop that?”

“Wear a scarf, or a bonnet, or using a silk pillowcase works, too. But you probably don’t have any of that stuff, you don’t have to bother with it—”

“Well, let me see.” Kun disappears into his closet and you pause, wondering for a moment if he actually does have a bonnet or something in there. Which would probably be a little hilarious to you.

He comes back out with not a bonnet of a scarf or even a pillowcase, but one of his own shirts. It’s just the right material though, being a pretty purple silk.

“Oh—Kun.” At this point, there are several emotions all trying to come to the forefront, though you have no clue which one to settle on. “Your shirt? You really don’t have to. I could…”

“It’s just a shirt, Y/N. There are a lot more where that comes from...I don’t mind.” He chuckles.

You sigh bashfully but take the shirt from him. “Thank you, it’s really thoughtful of you.” You cover the pillow with his shirt, and it works perfectly.

“Anyway, if you need anything else, just tell me,” he says, lingering by the door.

“I will...thank you,” you say, your voice quiet as you give him a nervous smile. Only when he shuts the door and his footsteps fade away do you allow yourself to bunch the comforter in your fists and scream into it. Everything in here smells just like him, which is probably more than enough to fuel all of your Qian Kun-related daydreams for the next 8 months.

It doesn’t take long for you to drift off when you finally do lie down, and your mind is blissfully empty of anything throughout the night.

The next day takes a bit of settling into. You’re momentarily alarmed when you wake up faced with a strange room until you remember last night’s events and recall where you are. There is also the smell of food, good food, which is also sadly unfamiliar to you. Charlotte can’t cook to save either of your lives, so you know you’d never be waking up to the smell of a professional chef-approved breakfast if you were still in your apartment with her.

Walking out of Kun’s room, you see that he’s in the kitchen, halfway finished with cooking breakfast for the both of you. It’s more like brunch at this hour, but what does that matter.

You linger at the doorway for a moment, allowing yourself to imagine that this is what things would be like if you were dating. Getting this view everyday? Life cannot be this unfair.

Maybe not too much, though, since you are standing in his kitchen.

“Oh, good morning,” he greets you, breaking your reverie. “Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning. I slept great. Thanks again for, you know, the shirt, haha…”

He grins, and his dimples come out. “Sure thing. Go ahead and sit! Breakfast will be ready soon.”

It’s the best breakfast you’ve eaten since living with Charlotte; maybe some of the best food you’ve ever had. “I had no idea you could cook this well,” you say. “I mean. I guess I wouldn’t since I haven’t—you know, uh—eaten here before, but—it’s great.” It’s just your luck that your thoughts come out in this fumbling mini-rant, but Kun only laughs good-naturedly.

“Thank you, I’m truly glad you like it.”

You both continue eating breakfast while making light conversation. This just might be the longest conversation you’ve had with each other, and that knowledge seems surreal. You’re almost a little glad you lost your key. Almost.

“So...today is Sunday. And the leasing office still won’t be open until Monday.” Kun says this over the remnants of breakfast. He speaks in a measured tone, like he’s trying to ensure he says the right thing. Whatever that could possibly be. “And you told me your roommate won’t be back until Monday.”

To your credit, you hadn’t exactly accounted for this when you first came over to his place in your distressed state. That means another night spent in his apartment though, which becomes very obvious to you now. “Ah. Sorry, am I imposing?”

“What—no, I-I just wanted to make sure you knew you can stay here tonight, or—however long you need.”

Relief floods through you, and you briefly wonder why you even worried about it; as far as you know, he’s not the kind of person to just kick someone out. “Ohh, of course—that’s good to know. Thank you for all this!”

“You’re welcome.” You miss the smile he gives to your response as you’re busy drinking your juice, but it’s one filled with a certain affection.

It feels a bit awkward to just sit around in his apartment all day, with nothing to do and all your belongings still locked out of your reach in your own place, so Kun shows you the studio in the corner of his room. He’d talked about being into music before, but you’d never heard anything of his until now.

When he plays the keyboard for you, it’s to the tune of a beautiful self-composed song. You almost pinch yourself to remind yourself this isn’t a hallucination or a fever dream. A man this appealing really exists, and you’ve stayed the night in his apartment and eaten his breakfast. You give a small round of applause when he finishes.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if you became a famous singer or something? I’d come to all your concerts,” you say lightly, kicking your legs on the edge of his bed.

“All? Really, all?” He laughs.

“Yes, all. A voice and talent like that deserves all the attention.” You lean back on his bed, stretching your legs out. “But all your venues would probably be sold out. Hopefully you’d remember me from your lil’ ole apartment building. I’m sure you’d be living in a penthouse by then.”

Kun smiles bashfully at your compliments, waving his hands as if it’s too much. “Thank you. But I don’t think I could ever forget you.” His voice grows a bit softer. His expression is more genuine than you expect for a conversation that was so playful only seconds ago, and you find it hard to hold eye contact all of a sudden.

It is your turn to be bashful, and you shrug in an effort to seem natural. “Well, I’m flattered.” Despite your unaffected demeanor, you don’t think those words will leave your mind for a good while, even if you wonder about the meaning of them.

Later that evening, Kun makes dinner and you watch TV together, flipping to whatever channels have dramas or movies playing.

You two eventually fall into another conversation when you can’t find anything good to watch—one that does not make you overly nervous for once. During a lull in the talking, that big question pops up into your mind, and you wince internally at how Charlotte would’ve already told you to make a move. You aren't sure how to do that without making him uncomfortable or seeming too sudden, but you decide to make an attempt.

You edge into it with, “So, um, your place looks pretty nice for one guy. It’s just you here, right?”

“Ah yeah, just me. Thanks, I do try my best.”

“Haha, I’m used to my guy friends all having super messy apartments until they get a girlfriend and she teaches them how to clean a stove for the first time…”

“Oh really? That’s a bit sad for them, isn’t it?” He chuckles. “I’m not dating anyone right now, so it’s all me.”

Just the information you were looking for. You try not to show your elation. “Why not?” you blurt out. Then you cringe because this might sound too invasive or even judgmental, but Kun only grins. “It’s just, it’s a little surprising. You’re such a generous person. You seem to care about everyone, even those poor stray kitties that stay outside the apartments all the time.”

He smiles timidly in response to receiving more of your compliments. “I guess it seems curious when you put it like that.” Just like when you’d drunkenly said I love you so much, there’s suddenly heat on the back of his neck that he hopes won’t turn into another blush that’ll expose him. “I don’t really know, I haven’t thought much about it; life’s weird like that.” He isn’t really sure how to answer that question in a way that won’t be too big of a hint that he’s interested in you, though he’s also not entirely sure why he’s still trying to hide it. Wouldn’t now be the perfect opportunity? When will you two have this much time together again? Still, you staying in his apartment for two days doesn’t mean you like him, and maybe he’s jumping the gun.

“That’s true. Guess that’s the same reason why I’ve been alone for a while now.” You shake your head.

“You?” Kun is equally surprised to know this about you.

You laugh incredulously. “Does that shock you or something?”

“I...well.” He rubs the back of his neck as he searches for the words. “I just thought...you’re very pretty, and you’re always really kind when we speak, so...”

“Oh?” Your face heats up at that.

“Yeah, I…think anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

“Oh.” Your body’s first instinct is to freeze with nervousness, but you know Charlotte would be kicking your ass in gear right now if she were somehow here. So, you decide to stop stressing about it and just do it. “Well...wouldn’t it be nice if we both had a way to fix our problems at the same time?”

Kun pauses for a moment before replying. “What do you suggest?” He knows what you are proposing—you can see in his eyes and his slight grin and his posture that he knows—but maybe he wants to hear you say it out loud.

“Hm, well…I don’t know, what do you think?” You lean a bit closer to him, raising your eyebrows and trying your best to look innocent and unassuming. His smile turns into something different with your increased proximity. Something a little more sly.

Mirroring your actions, he inches nearer to you until there’s little space left between. “Well, I think…” Kun tentatively closes the remaining gap between the two of you, the rest of his sentence left to linger as his soft lips envelop yours.

Maybe it’s corny to say it, but it definitely feels like one of those fairytale kisses with the fireworks going off and streamers popping; even though you’re sitting on his couch wearing his pajamas, some movie in the background you’ve long forgotten the plot of, empty dinner plates sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

You aren’t sure how you end up in his lap—who made the first move? Was it his hand on your back or your hands on his shoulders? You straddle him on the couch, your arms slipping around his shoulders and his hands on your back but assuredly traveling farther down your body.

Kun’s hands come to rest on your thighs, pulling the fabric of his shorts up a few inches higher. “I never thought I’d see you wearing my clothes,” he says lowly, grinning against your mouth.

“I also never thought I’d be sitting in your lap like this, but maybe sometimes dreams do come true,” you say jokingly, your lips rubbing against his skin as you slowly kiss his jaw.

You can’t see his expression, but his eyebrows shoot up at that. “Dreams, huh? You think about me often?” His voice pitches lower when he asks this, aroused by the thought of you imagining anything quite so lewd about him. You’ve definitely incriminated yourself now and won’t be able to wiggle out of it without an answer.

“...Maybe.”

“What do you think about me?” Kun grips your hips, which quickly turns into him grabbing your ass—tentatively at first to test the waters, and then firmly enough to grind you against his hardening cock. Sensing him solid and warm underneath you sends a shockwave down your spine, and the sensation heightens when his voice caresses your ear, all low and tense with arousal. “It’s just the two of us here. No one else has to know.”

“I think about your...lips. How you might kiss me. Or what you might say to me. And...your hands.” You pause there, a quiet breath whispering past your lips. “You have really big hands, you know.”

“My hands…” Kun places one on your chest, spreading his fingers across and touching your collarbone. The heel of his palm glides on the top of your breast, and just that touch is enough to get you more worked up. “Hmm. Actually, I’ll admit I’m pretty good with my hands.” He smirks, and he’s possibly the finest thing you’ve ever seen. “What else, Y/N?”

“I thought about how you’d touch me.” His hand slides between your breasts now, down your sternum, and to your stomach. “Maybe I’d invite you into my apartment when Charlotte wasn’t there. We’d watch some stupid movie and pretend to be into it, but we’re really just thinking about each other. You’d eventually end up slipping your hand up my skirt...and making me cum all over your fingers.”

You aren’t sure how you’re saying all this to Kun right now, the dude you have a major crush on, without bursting into flames.

His shaft rubbing against your clit even through your layers of clothes makes you sigh dreamily, pressing your forehead to his and gripping at his shoulders and biceps. His bangs are soft against your forehead, and your breath stutters when he moves to kiss the side of your neck. He has to know how hard your heart is beating right now.

“And then what?” His voice is barely a whisper, then.

“And then you’d fuck me, of course.” There’s a slight laugh in your voice at the ticklish feeling of his lips kissing your skin.

“And then I’d fuck you...hm,” he echoes. “Sure, I can do that.”

The promise of it entices you, and more heat pools between your legs, amplified by the fabric rubbing against your sensitive parts. His hand that’s still on your stomach travels under your shirt then, and your hips falter in your rhythm against him when his fingers brush across your nipple. He brings his lips to your other breast, lapping his tongue against your nipple over the fabric.

You soon come like this, his shaft grinding against your clit and his clothes rubbing against your skin, his hands on your ass and his lips traveling across your breasts. The orgasm is sudden and surprises you, but it’s good, and you convulse as the waves of pleasure course through you. You weaken and slump against him, with him still teasing your breasts with his mouth and hands. Pushing your face into his hair, you moan into the black strands until the quivering stops.

You’re breathless when you speak again. “You haven’t come yet.”

“I’d rather do that when I’m inside you,” he replies. You giggle quietly.

“...What are you waiting for, then?”

“Hold on.” Kun carefully maneuvers you off his lap, and you already want to complain at the lack of his touch. “I have to get a condom.”

“Hurry, or you’ll miss all the fun,” you say as you pull your shirt off with your back to him. You look back over your shoulder at him and grin mischievously.

“You’re such a tease…”

Kun goes into his room to fetch a condom, and when he returns he’s already pulling his shirt off, leaving it on the floor somewhere. You’re fully naked now, your legs pulled up to your chest and your chin resting on your knees as you sit on the couch. Kun’s eyes drop between your legs, your inner thighs still glistening from your previous orgasm, and he swipes his tongue across his lips at the sight of you, wet and ready for him.

Likewise, your eyes drop to the dark trail of hair leading into his pants and his bulge just below it, the way his sweatpants cling to his length, and your pussy throbs with the desire to be filled.

“Please, hurry.”

Kun doesn’t waste any time in getting the rest of his clothes off, shoving his pants and underwear done in one swift move and rolling the condom over his shaft. He climbs onto the couch, grabbing your legs and guiding them around his waist, and you giggle at his eager but gentle touch as you recline on the couch pillows behind you.

He grabs his dick and lines it up with you, then pushes it in slowly at first. The stretch makes your toes curl, but it is a good kind of stretch, the kind that fills you to the brim. Like the missing element you needed.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice husky from the pleasure.

“Fuck, please,” is your answer as you shift your hips and try to get him all the way inside quicker. Noticing your urgency, he slides the rest of the way in until your hips are flush against each other and starts thrusting into you. His length dragging across your walls feels much better than you could’ve imagined on any given night, and you clasp your legs tighter around him to get ever closer.

After a point, he pushes your legs up with his hands behind your knees so he can get a deeper angle, and you both moan at the difference in sensation and how much tighter you get around him.

There is no ignoring the messy wet noises of your bodies colliding due to the slickness of your previous orgasm and the new wetness he’s continually fucking out of you. Each thrust reaches deep inside you, deep enough to make you nearly sob, your hands fumbling over your breasts and your clit all the while.

“Kun, god yes please,” you whimper, rocking your hips into the rhythm of his own. You fucking him back makes him groan deeply, his bangs hanging off his forehead as he dips his head to watch himself slide in and out of you. You could not control the urge or the motion of your body even if you wanted to; you want all of him, as close as he can get.

“I don’t want this to end,” he moans, and he pulls out without a warning. You gasp at the sudden emptiness, and your discontent comes out in a full whine. You’d be more embarrassed about it if you weren’t currently consumed with desire, but you presently do not care.

Kun sits back on the couch and pulls you on top of him again. “Ride me,” he says. So you grasp the base of his cock, him grunting as you do, and you press the tip against your entrance before pushing it in. He watches himself slip inside of you while fully enraptured, one hand tight on your hip.

Once you are full with him again, you experimentally grind against him to see how it’ll feel in this new position, and your arms tremble as his pelvis stimulates your clit.

“Go ahead,” he whispers, grasping the nape of your neck and kissing you hard once more, “fuck yourself on me.”

So you keep grinding your clit on him like that, your limbs shaking from the stimulation and your walls fluttering around his cock. You can barely catch a complete breath from him kissing you hard enough to make your lips swell, and your head is so fogged with lust that all you can concentrate on is getting yourself off just like he told you to do.

“Kun…” You roll your head onto his shoulder, pressing your forehead into his skin, your body tiring as you get closer to reaching that high. You’re so close to coming, but you’re not sure if you have enough strength left to get there on your own. Kun notices the state you’re in and grasps your hips to pull them into his, effortlessly sliding himself into you while making sure your clit gets stimulated at the same time.

The new friction of his dick rubbing against your g-spot in this position is enough to have you finally coming and crying out against his neck.

You continue babbling nonsense against his neck as he keeps fucking you, searching for his own end. His hands are hot on your body as he moves you up and down his length.

His climax comes soon after yours, his dick pulsing and his pace slowing. Your back arches at the sensation of him throbbing inside you and releasing his cum into the condom. The way he groans in your ear has your stomach clenching.

For a few minutes after, you both sit quietly and do nothing but cling to one another as you come down from the pleasure.

“So, does this mean we’re together now…?” Kun asks hopefully, running his hands over your back as you lie against him.

You smile against his skin. “Obviously. But if you still want to convince me, we can go a couple more rounds…”

#kun smut #kun fic #kun scenarios #kun imagines #nct fic #nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv fic #wayv scenarios #wayv smut #wayv imagines #ambw scenarios #kpop ambw #ambw fic #ambw smut #ambw imagines #qian kun

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monsterenergysimp · 4 years

Text

Permanence

corpse husband x fem!reader

summary: you meet corpse on a stream and you’re surprised when he reaches out to you

warnings: cursing, mentions of tattooing

word count: 1.9k

notes: This is proof read but could have missed some stuff. This is my first corpse fic and my first time writing fanfic since I posted that super cringey book on wattpad when I was like 12 or something. I’d appreciate feed back so please reach out to me :)

main blog @itsmysleepover

read part 2 here!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You were cleaning up your station so you can get home and stream. You loved your day job as a tattoo artist but you also really enjoyed streaming. It started as a way to promote yourself as an artist and the shop you worked at but it eventually became a really fun way to destress at the end of the week (or day if you were really itching to stream). “Hey Y/N was that your last client?” your boss, KC, asked as she walked to the front of the shop and put new flash drawings on the walls.

“Yes ma’am!” You said back excitedly. You finished cleaning your station and tossed your black gloves in the trash. “And you can’t trick me into staying and taking walk-ins,” you joked with her. She rolled her eyes and walked back into her office “It was one time,” she said as you slid on your jacket. As you walked out your phone buzzed in your pocket and you checked to see who had texted you. It was a message from Sean asking if you were free to play Among Us with him and some other streamers. You replied that you were on your way home right now and totally down. You were excited to see who was playing this time around since their Among Us streams are super entertaining and have gotten really popular.

On your way back you tweeted and posted to your Instagram story that you’d be streaming soon and set up all your stuff once you made it home. After a few minutes, you had a couple of thousand people watching. You entered the discord chat and Sean spoke up. “Everyone this is Y/N she’s sensitive so be gentle.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you guys and I’m not gentle, I'm ruthless,” You say into your mic and notice the chat calling you a liar. Everyone was in the lobby waiting for the game to start. “You sound way too sweet to be ruthless,” Corpse said. The countdown started and you were imposter with Charlie.

“This should be fun,” you told the stream. Yout tried playing strategically but after such a long shift your brain was mush. You saw Poki in nav and killed her then vented into shields. Not long after the body was reported and you were sure you were going to get voted out or at least sussed.

“Where was the body?” Felix asked. “Nav and I didn’t see anyone near there so whoever is imposter must have vented,” Corpse responded. Felix spoke up again. “I think I saw Y/N walk that way and I haven’t seen her since.”

Shit, shit, shit shit. “I’m in shield right now so-” you said trying to defend yourself but Charlie spoke up. “I was doing tasks with her earlier and I saw her walk into shields so she’s safe but I’m still not sure about Rae.” Everyone discussed a bit more and some people, including Corpse, voted for you but Rae got the majority vote and was ejected. You released your breath and kept playing being extra careful.

“Okay, guys that was super close. Corpse knows and is out to get me,” you said to the chat. You were eventually voted off but one round later victory was written across your screen with your ghost and Charlie’s avatar. “Good game guys,” Corpse said.

“I told you guys I was ruthless!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You sat at your station doing nothing because a client had canceled a four-hour session. You were listening to music and sketching some stuff but you were bored out of your mind and you didn’t want to leave in case you got a walk-in. The music got quiet as you received a twitter notification saying someone had messaged you. You reached for your phone and saw you had gotten a dm from Corpse.

C: hey :)

You didn’t know what to respond. You were mostly confused as to why he decided to message you out of the blue. Did he want something? But what would he want?

Y: Hii! This is sudden

C: was i bothering you?

shit sorry!

Y: Youre fine I wasn’t doing anything rn

C: how has your day been

i dont usually do stuff like this

Y: Im glad you did im doing better now I was so bored

C: what were you doing that was so terrible

Y: NOTHING! thats the problem :(

C: im sure youll find something to do

You stared at his message. Unsure what to respond.

Y: Im gonna give myself a tattoo

C: what?

NO!

You tossed the needles you used for your tattoo into the sharps box. “Oh my god you didn’t,” KC said. She noticed the wrap on your calve from the tattoo you just gave yourself out of boredom. “It’s not my fault I didn’t have anything else to do!” You said trying to defend yourself. She sighed and just shook her head. “Just go home business is slow today.” It was raining so the shop probably wasn’t going to get a walk-in anyway and you didn’t have any more clients for the day. It was only 2 pm but you drove home and after making lunch for yourself decided to stream. You weren’t expecting too many people so it was bound to be super chill. Your leg felt sore reminding you of the tattoo. You snapped a quick pic of the fresh jack-o-lantern on the side of your calve and messaged it to Corpse.

Y: [image] it came out nice!

C: thats super cool actually

i was concerned why you would just give yourself a tattoo but i found your instagram and youre super talented

Y: Thank you!

For some reason, it felt strange to just have that be the end of your response.

Y: Im about to start streaming if you wanted to watch

[link]

C: ill be watching ;)

What’s that supposed to mean?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You sat in your apartment watching tv, hand lost in a bag of Doritos, and scrolling through twitter. You had stopped paying attention to the anime playing on the screen since you’ve watched it a hundred times and knew you wouldn’t miss anything. It was Saturday and you usually take those days off. Take the time to do chores or meet up with some friends but today you felt like not doing any of those things. As you continue your endless scroll (not helping the twitter addiction you told yourself you’d try to get a handle on) you got a message from Corpse.

C: wanna talk?

You looked down at the message unsure of how to answer. It was a simple yes or no and the obvious answer was yes. You and Corpse had started talking more regularly. You still didn’t have each other’s phone numbers but it was fine. Your conversations weren’t too big-- just you sending him memes, tiktoks, and telling him how much you liked the songs he would drop. Or him complimenting a tattoo you did. Sometimes he’d message you during streams telling you funny stuff his fans would say in the chat and you’d do the same. You learned a bit about each other but nothing too deep or serious. Like how you two lived a few cities away and you both really liked Donnie Darko. When Sean first invited you to that game out of everyone else there you were most excited to meet Corpse. He’s just so sweet and funny. Of course, you’d love to talk to him but you were also itching to talk to him and the last thing you’d ever want to do was make him uncomfortable.

Y: Yeah id love to talk

Here goes nothing.

Y: Wanna facetime or something?

No pressure or anything it could even be a regular call

I think facetime is just my default lol

You sent those last two messages quickly after you had sent the first. You wished you could know what he was thinking. It was killing you to think you had turned him off from talking to you completely. You put your phone down on the couch and went to wash your hand of Dorito dust. When you got back from the kitchen you turned off the tv and tossed yourself onto the couch.

Still no message.

Why am I so fucking stupid?

Just as you were standing up to stretch from sitting on the couch all day your phone buzzed. You reached for it fast and looked to see that it was him. You became super excited still not even knowing what the message said. It could have told you to never talk to him again for all you knew.

C: sure lets facetime

xxx-xxx-xxxx

You had his phone number. You added him to your small but growing contact list and called. You sat on your couch waiting for a response when he finally picked up the screen was black. It didn’t upset you; you kind of expected it and didn’t care what he had to do to make himself more comfortable during this call.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was raspier than usual.

“Did you just wake up?” You asked and looked at the time. It was about a little past noon and you had only eaten Doritos all day. Shit, you should probably make a decent meal.

“Not that long ago but yeah,” he responded and giggled. That giggle.

“Well, I’ve eaten nothing but Doritos all day while rewatching Ouran High School Host Club, so you’re welcome to join me as I make myself something to eat.”

“Sounds like fun; what are we eating?”

“I don’t know yet,” You said as you stood up and made your way to the kitchen. You opened the pantry and looked. You noticed a can of diced tomatoes and reached for it then checked the expiration date. It was still good. On your counter were some onions and garlic. “How about some tomato soup?”

“Sounds delicious.” you smiled at Corpse and your phone screen not knowing if he was also looking at his screen or not. “You’re really pretty-- you know that?”

“Thanks, but you don’t have to--”

“I’ve already told you what an incredible artist you are so many times I bet you’re tired of hearing it, but you already know what a talented artist you are.”

“That is very kind of you Corpse,” you said to him bashfully as you chopped the onion and opened the can of tomatoes. “But once again you don’t have to reach so far to compliment me.”

“I’m not reaching you are talented and beautiful and--”

“I thought I was pretty.” You could hear him chuckle with a smile on his face. “You’re both,” he said. You could feel your face getting warm from blushing.

“Fuck you you’re making me blush. My face is all hot and stuff.”

He laughed at how flustered you got. “That’s the cutest thing ever.”

You didn’t know how to respond so you just put some olive oil in a pot and tossed in your onions. It became silent but it was a comfortable silence. You turned the stove on and watched the flame for a few seconds. “If it was dark we could pretend we were together and having a bonfire or something,” you said to the phone as you turned the camera to show him the flame (still not 100 percent sure if he was looking at you or not).

“I’ll put it on the list of things to do when you visit me someday.”

#corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband imagines #corpse husband x y/n #youtubers #caffeinated ramblings

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shadyteacup · 3 years

Note

Helloooo, can you do headcanons on Dazai having a strong S/O (ability wise) like nearly as strong as Chuuya? Cause isn't he a literal God lol. Thank you :]

Hewo! I had a lot of fun writing this...it almost turned out to be a oneshot :p , but dw, I managed to turn it into hcs :D

Here u go~

Thunderstruck⚡

Dazai x gn!reader

Reader has a strong ability...like, rlly cool 😎 it's my dream ability

This man is head over heels.

He loves how you scream over a cockroach but can rip people to shreds at the same time.

Since you didn’t mention any specific ability, I have gone ahead and given you a lightning ability.

Arahabaki is the god of calamity, that combined with Chuuya.

Raijin is the God of lightening. Your ability is pretty similar to His powers.

You can control the place, time and method of a lightning strike. You can also produce it on the spot and shoot it from your hands...kinda like Palpatine.

Your eyes turn arctic blue, with your hair flowing around you. You look like a literal Goddess/God.

He was mesmerised when he witnessed it in action for the first time.

You and Dazai were walking through Yokohama, observing the internal beauty of the city via small lanes and random alleyways.

Hand-in-hand, you two were chatting about how Dazai hadn’t tried the Napolitana pasta yet, despite living in a city that was rumoured to have invented the dish.

That’s when Dazai pulled you around a random corner and shielded you from the view of the road you two were originally walking on.

You knew better than to speak at such a moment and decided to observe and try to pick any signs of being followed.

Sure enough, you could hear faint footsteps come to a stop right at the corner, you two still being shielded by the corner. You both waited with bated breath, and after a while, the person went away.

Relieved, you were about to walk out of your hiding place, when a barrel placed itself on your head from behind. Your eyes widened and you froze in place. Dazai noticed the unknown presence and looked behind only to find you being held a hostage.

“Long time, Mr. Executive!”, the man holding you hostage said as he grinned at Dazai.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in prison, Ito san?”, Dazai said, offering him his own smile.

You could easily read through his façade. The smile was only a mask, covering his panic and fear. You had no experience in fighting, and Dazai was no match for this man. He had fought him earlier, but that was when he had Chuuya by his side. Dazai can come up with a spectacular and manipulative plan, and Chuuya, or his current ada partner, Kunikida, can execute it, considering their brawn. He was the brains, and his partners had always been the brawn. He can fight the occasional criminal, but Ito was a feared enemy of the mafia, who was both mentally and physically strong. He had always assumed that the mafia had caught him, and sent him to jail, thanks to the mafias feared double black, but apparently, he had gotten away, or had found a way to break out of prison.

“prison isn’t a place for a man like me; you of all people know that. So, I left! Decided to say hello to an old friend, now that I’m back.”

He moved his gun from your head, dragging it down to your chin.

“Turns out, my visit might actually kill two birds with one stone.”

Understanding the hidden meaning behind his words, Dazai tensed up. He couldn’t let him hurt you. He had to get you out f here. But how is he going to do that? There is no way out of this without either of you getting hurt. He must protect you, but what must he do?

You chuckled.

“Something funny, pretty thing?”

“Actually, yes.”, you say, “Do you know who you’re threatening?”, you smirk, your tone dangerously low and intimidating.

“You’re playing a dangerous game; Ito-san, wasn’t it?”

The man grabbed your chin, turning you to face him.

“I was going to let you go, but I suppose your naivety deserves a bullet to the head!”

You smiled, activating your ability.

A sudden jolt of electricity travelled into his body. Yelping, he let go of you. Using this window of opportunity, you kicked the gun out of his hand and pushed yourself away from him. Dazai quickly grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the man, and out of the alley. His main intention was to get you away from here. Away from danger. He hadn’t understood what had just happened, but he decided that right now, running was the best course of action.

You two turned multiple corners, crossed many junctions, and ended up at an open field. Beyond the field, a few blocks away, was a metro station. You two could head to safety from there. All you had to do was cross this abandoned field and get in the metro.

Multiple men, clad in a uniform of sorts, emerged from the shadows, circling you both.

“Thought you could run away, did you?”, Ito stepped into the circle, a proud smirk on his face.

“You will face the consequences for destroying my gang. We never broke apart, you see. All of us are back. And we will take over the mafia, defeat the ada, and control this city.”

“Good luck with that.”, you say as you let go of Dazai’s hand, ignoring his warnings to stay back. Kinda like that scene with odasaku :')

You spread your arms wide, activating your ability. Bolts of lightning shot out from your fingers, hitting a few of the men, dropping them to the ground.

The men had no time to react as you swiftly raised yourself off the ground, hovering over them, and unleashed your signature move, striking them with a large bolt of lightning from the sky.

The head of the group, Ito, activated his own ability, the ability to control metal. Multiple guns aimed themselves at you and began shooting.

You created a shield around yourself, effectively blocking the hundreds of bullets.

Meanwhile, Dazai sneaked behind the others, incapacitating them.

You continued to fight Ito, blocking his attacks, and sending a couple bolts his way, while simultaneously attacking the others. The field was a mix of bullets, sharp scraps of metal, and bolts of electricity.

At the end, Dazai sneaked up behind Ito, nullifying his ability, and knocking him out.

To say that he was surprised would be an understatement.

He had heard of an ability that controlled lightning, but this was his first time witnessing it in action.

'Heaven's Fury' was the name of your dangerous ability.

He thought it suited you very well..

You are calm and composed, but when angered, you can unleash madness upon your enemies.

You were always so elegant, and seeing you like this, using your powers and fighting atleast 20 people at once, he couldn't help but admire your majestic beauty.

Your ability gives me 'They tell me I'm a God, I'm lost in the façade, Six feet off the ground' vibes.

Dazai agrees with my opinion.

You look like a deity.

He liked the idea of protecting you, yes, but he found it so hot that you could protect yourself.

Hell, he now knows that you can not only protect yourself, but also take out an entire city on your own.

He would be much at peace now, knowing that he doesn’t quite have to worry so much about any past enemy of his taking revenge. You were stronger than almost all his enemies.

Will praise you, 24/7. He wouldn’t stop talking about it.

He wonders why you didn’t tell him, and you merely shrugged saying that he never asked.

He would brag about you to all his friends(ada members)

He would never tell anyone other than the ada members, though, as he doesn’t want anybody to do some research and find out a way to defeat you.

He prefers it to be an element of surprise and catch the enemies off-guard.

Loves watching the shocked and scared faces of those that decide to wrong you, leading to you using your formidable ability on them.

If you aren’t a part of the ada, he would definitely think that you’d be a great addition to the organization.

He would never ask you join, though. He wants you to be as safe as possible. It doesn’t matter whether or not you have a strong ability, he just wants you out of harm’s way.

Besides, using your ability can take a toll on your health too.

He just wants to see you happy and safe.

If you decide to join the ada, he will try to talk you out of it.

If you’re absolutely sure of your decision, he wouldn’t stop you.

Instead, he will accompany you on all your missions, and will ask Atsushi to come along too.

He is aware that you are extremely strong and don’t need anyone, but he will constantly worry about you, which is why he accompanies you.

Don’t get him wrong, he really loves you and trusts you, but he is just so worried.

So, don’t oppose him when he joins you, please. Poor baby is just really concerned for your health.

Will call up Chuuya and brag about you to him.

“My Belladonna is much stronger than you, chibi-kun ;p”

If you’re taller than Chuuya, Dazai will tease the hell out of poor hat man.

He'll be like,"LOL shorty XD. My s/o is both taller and stronger than you!!"

If you're not taller, it will still be hell for poor wine boy.

"I can't believe that you're weaker than my s/o! They're so much better than you, LOL"

"Shut up, bastard!"

"Pathetic chuuya.. You literally have a God inside you, and you're still weaker! LMAO"

I feel bad for chu chu :(

But, oh well, that's just them, ig :)

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creativia10 · 3 years

Text

I would Duel for you

Virgil has fantasies about how the final battle with his brother could have gone differently to satisfy his thirst for revenge, and wish to physically make up for what his brother put Roman through. At least one of these can become a reality.

Pairing: Virgil x Roman

Wordcount: 2528

Warnings: Suggestive Themes, implies past abusive relationship, mentions past unsympathetic Deceit

Notes: This is a coda/fanfic of @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors 's Love ad Other Fairytales series. This is set some time after the main story, during the first year after. I am also posting this on my ao3, where I will have a longer AN and tags. Also note, I put this as M on my ao3. This is my first time writing a fic like this. I hope I am tagging this right.

Virgil wouldn’t change how they saved everyone from his brother. He was proud that Roman was able to be the hero he had always wanted to. So proud of his brave knight to have been able to get the ring from his brother, knowing how difficult that must have been. However, the more romantic, possessive, and fae parts of him would imagine things going differently. More specifically, the primal urge that came to the front when he thought about what his brother did with Roman. It was bad enough knowing his brother was had been with Roman first, but Roman had found Virgil first. Stupid curse.

So, ever since Roman first told them about his deal with the Serpent King, many images came to his mind on how he wanted to fix it.

Going back and forth between, murder the snake, he is mine, how dare that snake take another of mine, how dare he hurt someone as amazing and lovely as him.

In a way, he did get what he wanted. The Serpent King was killed. Greta was most justified to do the job than any of them. Yet, there were times he wished he could have dealt with the situation more personally. Maybe some sort of snarling speech, that was a bit of an embarrassing wish though. He did not like talking in front of crowds, which sucked when you ruled the entire magical forest.

It would go something like this,

His brother had just manhandled Roman onto his spot on the armrest of the throne. His hand going to that possessive grip on the back of Roman’s neck.

A guttural growl came from Virgil.

“ Get. Your. F***ing hands. Off of Him!”

His brother would just give him a smug look.

“I don’t think you’re in a place to be making demands right now. You can’t even get to him.”

Virgil didn’t always picture the details of how he made it over there, just that he did.

Then, Virgil and his brother were squaring up on the battlefield, Roman kept behind the snake.

A grand magical duel would take place,

or sometimes a bloody vicious battle, depending on how homicidal of a mood Virgil was in when he pictured it. The point was, he usually fought his brother directly, for Roman. Sometimes he demanded Roman be released to him first. Sometimes, Virgil immediately went for the kill, unforgiving of his brother for what he did to his love.

Virgil would go over to Roman immediately after. Usually he would just hold him tightly and warmly. Roman would say something. It wasn’t always the same. Usually of gratitude. Most of the time, Virgil spoke first, as Roman was speechless, having trouble comprehending that he truly was free. Virgil always would, and he still did, have the urge to do whatever he could to just make it better. There was usually a kiss. One with a lot of gentle caressing. The kiss was usually passionate. Sometimes interspersed with sweet continuous expressions of, “I love you’s”. Sometimes Virgil muttered more heated and possessive things, that were still warm. Sometimes they were on the seductive side, of asking how he could physically erase his brother’s horrid touch, wanting to bring Roman so much pleasure he couldn’t think about whatever the stupid snake had done first. Because Virgil loved him, and intimacy would always be better when there was real love.

Sometimes, in a moment of passion, Virgil would dive in for a passionate kiss first, but usually something would be said, and some loving touching would take place before the kissing. Sometimes he would keep going where the kissing escalated to them getting frisky against a tree, but usually Virgil would try to keep his mind from going that far.

The main thing, was Virgil would mutter promises that Roman would never have to deal with his brother’s cruel hand again. Virgil was pretty sure Roman knew that though.

“Virgil?” Virgil blinked from his reverie as he turned to the speaker.

He always wished he could do more. He knew that recovering from stuff was something he couldn’t just fight away. But gosh did he wish he could. He wanted to make up for every moment that bastard took from them.

Part of him felt guilty about some of his daydreams, as he knew Roman was not ready for the more physical parts of a relationship. Virgil would never want him to feel pressure or rushed though, not after what his brother did to his beloved.

“Virgil are you ok?”

Virgil smiled a little at Patton, uncertain how he could respond, because he didn’t know.

“I was just thinking,” He said. Patton frowned at the non-answer, but nodded hesitantly.

“Okaay…well good luck on your checkup!”

“Pat…” Logan said with an exasperated look. “That makes it sound like he’s going to a doctor.”

“Well, I mean he is checking up on his mom though! So I technically wasn’t wrong.”

Logan rolled his eyes and held Patton’s hand.

“See you later.”

Since Roman had insisted on joining Virgil as he checked on the status of the forest, Patton and Logan had decided to make a date out of it. They all waved bye, and Virgil turned to face the forest. He couldn’t seem to help thinking of his imagines upon realizing this would be his first time alone with Roman since the defeat of the Serpent King, and since the four’s relationship came to be.

Roman stood up beside him, with a smile.

“Ready?” He was dressed in what Virgil believed used to be his ‘hunting’ getup, an iron blade in its sheath. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Yes. Remember to stick close to me.”

Roman huffed, but surprisingly didn’t protest as they started off. Virgil was finding himself…distracted. In many ways though. They were here to check on the forest, but Virgil’s focus kept going to Roman. His wonderful knight. Actually there with him, while they were both awake. How wonderful he was. Then frustration that by thinking about that, he was distracted from being in the moment with Roman, along with other ‘new relationship’ anxieties. Also, as his thoughts often led back to, just how much he had lost with Roman because of his stupid brother. Being alone with Roman brought some of these urges to his forefront even more.

He could see them on the battlefield. Somehow, the serpent was frozen in place, he hadn’t put thought into how, daydreams didn’t always make sense. He was kissing Roman passionately and possessively, to show that fiend did not have him anymore, that-

“V?”

Virgil blinked, and turned to Roman, who was giving him a concerned look.

“Are you alright? You seemed a bit spacey there.”

Virgil looked away again, thinking of what he could say.

“…I have stated that my communing with my mother does not look the same to onlookers.”

“…okay, I know avoiding an answer when I hear one, V.”

He slipped his hand into Virgil’s and interlaced their fingers. His hand was so warm. It felt so nice. Another thing he absolutely adored about his love. He just wanted to caress it, and maybe pull him into a passionate embrace where he could-

Virgil took in a sharp inhale, trying not to squeeze Roman’s hand too hard. The last thing he wanted was to hurt or scare him. Roman was still looking at him, brows furrowed.

“Hey. What is it?” He stopped.

“We probably shouldn’t just stop here in the middle of the forest.”

Roman half smiled and walked closer to him, holding Virgil’s other hand as well.

“I am here, with the prince of the forest. I am sure we’re okay.”

Damn right, he thought in response to that.

Virgil smiled at him, sure the awe was clear on his face. Virgil brought their hands up so he could gently cup Roman’s face, and pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes. He let out a relieved sigh at feeling his love’s touch.

“It might seem silly,” he finally admitted.

Roman laughed a little at that, then Virgil felt him nuzzle their noses together.

“I am sure I won’t mind, my spidery princeling. Especially when you are acting so vulnerable about it.” He leaned forward quickly to peck Virgil then back. Virgil almost followed his lips then stopped himself. He wanted to at least let Roman know what had been playing through his mind before he found himself go any further. He was still hesitant though.

“…also might reference a topic you may not want to talk about.” He heard a sharp inhale from Roman, so he started to pull away and opened his eyes. Roman squeezed Virgil’s hands before he could let go.

“How about you start…and I’ll let you know if I can’t right now, okay?”

Virgil hesitated but nodded.

“Okay, so” He took a breath. “Since…the Serpent King’s defeat-“

Virgil didn’t miss Roman’s wince at the mention, but he didn’t protest,

“Or, well really since you first mentioned the deal he wrapped you up in, I have been…sort of fantasizing about ways I could fix it.” Roman gave him a confused look. Virgil sighed.

“I find myself…picturing I got to deal with him personally…and then doing my best to erase whatever way he might have touched you…by compensating with my own touch,” Virgil looked back up at him, not wanting to scare him, but unable to help the intensity of his stare. Even mentioning the fantasies out loud, had Virgil having to restrain a growl. Roman inhaled, but he didn’t seem scared.

“O-oh?” Roman asked. Virgil nodded.

“I am sure you have caught on to how fae can be possessive. And I would never force you into anything of course, unlike my brother. Him being the one to do what he did to you, made it more personal for me.” With as much restraint as he could, Virgil shakily put a hand up to cup Roman’s face again.

“I had been waiting for you,” He sounded a little watery as he spoke, but he kept going, “You are the main one who kept me from being lonely during my slumber. If I could do anything I could to erase any pain you may have gone through…know that I would.”

Roman took a shaky breath, his eyes starting to look a little shiny.

“Okay.” Roman simply said. He brought their hands to his lips and gently kissed them.

He looked back up at Virgil and smiled a little shakily.

“I gotta say…I love hearing how much you want to be with me, my love.” He dropped their hands and looked back at him.

“Can I ask…how would you make it up to me? What are you wanting to do?”

Virgil’s eyes widened at that, unable to restrain his growl that time.

“Are you wanting me to show you?”

Roman smiled a little, blushing, and then nodded.

“You know how I love to be pampered,” He said.

Virgil smirked, and then slowly started to back Roman until he was against a tree.

“Remember, tell me at any time if there is anything you don’t want, okay?”

Roman nodded, biting his lip a little. Virgil’s eyes zeroed in on that. He moved his hands to grip Roman’s waist, and leaned in.

“Where?” He asked, figuring Roman knew what he was asking, but hoping it wouldn’t be too much.

Roman thought for a moment, then lifted a wrist up to Virgil. Virgil grasped his hand, and leaned his hips forward so Roman was still pinned to the tree, getting a gasp out of Roman, and looked over the wrist. Then he leaned forward and kissed the wrist, looking at Roman as he did so.

He flicked his tongue against it, mouthed at the spot, and gently grazed his teeth against it. Another breathy sound from Roman. Virgil smiled at him, glad to see the lack of fear from Roman’s face, exactly what he was going for. He asked him again with his eyes. Roman slowly nodded and then tilted his head. Immediately, Virgil sprung forward and attached his lips to that spot on the junction of Roman’s neck. It was a good spot. Virgil got a lovely moan from that one. His hands, back on Roman’s hips, was brushing his thumb back and forth, alternating with how he would squeeze them. Then both pressed against each other, trying to feel as much of the other as they could.

Roman ran his hands up and down Virgil’s sides, and twirled them in his hair some.

Virgil enthusiastically kissed up Roman’s neck, until their lips were a mere breath apart, and he didn’t know who pushed forward first, but then they were kissing. It got passionate immediately, alternating from loving touches to erotic ones. He wanted to feel him as much as he possibly could.

He put a lot of force into his kiss, but made sure to keep the pace of the kiss with how Roman was pushing forward, not wanting to get too rough. Lips gripped. Virgil bit Roman’s lips getting a particularly loud moan out of him, which made Virgil shiver. He absolutely loved being able to get Roman like this. This was how it was supposed to be for him. He was the one to get him to feel like this. Virgil licked over Roman’s lips and then flicked his tongue into Roman’s mouth, as they toyed with each other. It was wonderful, and Virgil felt some tension he had been feeling get released.

Virgil thinks he may have been muttering I love yous in between.

He pulled away barely, just to kiss all around Roman’s face, who was breathing very heavily, already slumping against the tree.

Virgil pulled away to look at him, his blood thrumming.

“I cannot wait for the day we can physically become one,” He said, as he pushed a lock of hair behind Roman’s head. Roman was still panting but he smiled up at him.

“Me too.”

Virgil helped him up and strung his arm around the back of his shoulders to keep him upright.

“Perhaps we should continue the forest checking when I am a bit more focused.” Virgil said.

Roman snorted at that, and leaned his head against Virgil’s.

“Yeah, probably would be best. Cuddles?”

“Of course my love,” and he kissed the top of Roman’s head before they headed back, Roman a little shaky on his feet.

“Should I carry you back?”

Roman blushed and didn’t say anything.

“Is that a yes?”

Roman sighed, “I am just thinking about whatever comments Mamaw may give.”

Virgil shrugged, and quickly lifted him into a bridal carry, causing Roman to yelp and blush more.

“I can always put you down before we get to the house?”

Roman didn’t respond. Virgil smiled and started walking back.

“…do you seriously intend to carry me like this the entire time?”

“It’s not taxing for me. Let me feel like I rescue the dame in distress for once.”

“What do you mean for once? Virgiil~.”

Virgil laughed as they made their way back. Maybe some good did come out of his daydreams after all.

#laoft fic #ts sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #ts virgil #ts roman #prinxiety #unsympathetic deceit

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aomineavenue · 4 years

Text

Homesick (Miya Atsumu x f!Reader) | 007. realizations

Summary: Six years ago, L/N Y/N wouldn’t exactly say that she loves her life. It had always been problematic but her best friend, Miya Atsumu, since she was eight when she moved to Hyōgo, has always been there for her, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. However, things would always fall apart for her ever since, so she should have expected of such. Running away from her problems seemed like the easiest route to take at the time, so what happens when the past comes barging back into her life demanding answers? Will she be able to confront her demons?

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x f!Reader

Updates: irregular.

Genre: Angst, ANGST I LOVE ANGST, a lil bit of fluff here and there.

Warnings: Language, etc. (Will be mentioned once posted because I don’t want spoilers huehue)

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for the reader and my ideas. I do not claim any images used for content in this fic, everything goes out to their respective creators unless it is mentioned that it is mine.

Status: ongoing. | series masterlist

↩ dinner disaster | realization | chapter seven bonus ↪

mia’s note(s):

another easter egg found here! can you find it?

i’m so excited because we’re almost done. remember how i said it’s 12 chapters? well, i’ve shortened it ok lmao dont be mad but homesick is almost over hehe

i would just like to personally thank @newfriendjen and @hqstuffsforme bcoz they literally give me the motivation I need to continue writing lmao

The model scrunches her features up in annoyance, puffing her cheeks as if she were a child being deprived of sweets. She flickers her attention over to you, her jaw clenching at the mere fact a woman was seated next to him. “Excuse me.”

You arch an eyebrow, noticing her glowering towards your direction. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” she answers, her eyes betraying the smile she had on, “I believe you’re in my seat.”

The past few weeks had been exhausting for him, and it wasn’t because of their intense training for upcoming games. His exhaustion’s source was mainly from the most recent important events, it took a toll on him emotionally. While this may be true, he understands there wasn’t anyone to blame but himself. The anger still existed somewhere in his mind, displeasing him whenever his thoughts reminded him of the chances he had lost to take care of his kids at a much younger age, but he had tried his best to subdue those particular emotions ever since that night. Chaotic as it was, it took him a step closer towards the realization of what he really needed to do. All he needed now was a little shove.

“‘Tsumtsum!” he hears her screech, the muscles around his shoulders grow tense. The irony of it all, just as they were discussing that horrendous memory of the Christmas Party just last December that he had tried his best to eradicate from his brain due to his own embarrassment, he couldn’t believe the model in question had instantaneously emerged out of thin air. What was she doing all the way here in Kanagawa? It was as if he had no escape from her suffocating clutches. A quick glance towards his brother and he recognizes the criticizing features sewn on his twin’s features and all he could do was share a silent communication, pleading for his aid.

Out of all the times this woman could appear, she appears at the very moment where he was sort of, trying, to redeem himself. Silently, he prays as she snakes her arms around his neck, that you, settled next to him, wouldn’t conclude anything from it, but who was he kidding? The position itself was sufficient evidence for you to come up with the conclusion he’s dreading. He can sense everyone’s eyes on him, the irritation they were radiating for such disruption. As she releases another infuriating squeal, this time an inch away from his ear, he pries her hands away from his neck and wraps his fingers around her wrist to pull her to the side.

Her lower lip juts out to a pout as she stands by the table, ignoring the dirty look he was directing her way. “What’s wrong ‘Tsumtsum? Did you not like my surprise?”

“Surprise?” he disputes, his brows furrowed in confusion as he releases his grip from her wrist, displeasure evident in his tone as he spoke. “Don’t tell me you were stalking me, Yumi.”

She folds her arms across her chest and lets out a scoff of disbelief escape her lips, “You make it sound as if I’m not your girlfriend or something!”

“Well, you aren’t.” he argues, a sigh of frustration escaping his lips, “We’ve talked about this. We’re not together and how did you know I was going to be here anyway?”

“That’s some serious stalking there, Yumi-san.” Hinata quips from his seat innocently, the other individuals around the table attempt their best to contain their sniggering at the sight of the model going red in the face from both anger and embarrassment.

She releases a grunt from her lips, sending a glare towards Hinata’s direction before turning her attention back at him, flashing him an innocent smile. “I don’t care what you say, we’re dating. You can’t just drop me like that. What we have is something special, you love me right? You never really said it before, but I know you’re just being shy, ‘Tsumtsum, it’s o—”

“Please,” He interjects, “Drop it. We’ve discussed this already, Yumi.”

You arch an eyebrow, noticing her glowering towards your direction. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” she answers, her angry eyes betraying the smile she had on, “I believe you’re in my seat.”

“Yumi!” Atsumu hisses, pushing himself to stand from his seat. “Stop this, right now. We’re trying to have a quiet dinner.”

Clearing your throat, you avoid the model’s glare as you stand yourself, “I think I’m full, and I’d like to return to the hospital. She can have my seat.”

“Wait, what?” Reiji chokes, sharing a panic glance over to his current partner in crime across from him. “But we haven’t even gotten to the main course,”

Yumi squeezes her way towards your seat after pulling you away from where you stood with abrupt force, a happy squeal leaving her lips as she occupies the seat you sat on seconds ago, she turns to look up at you, a smug smile evident in her features, “Safe travels.”

“Enjoy the rest of your night, everyone.” you bid, bowing your head slightly before your feet take off towards the exit of the restaurant.

“Good riddance, if you ask me.” Yumi scoffs with a wave of her hand to capture everyone’s attention. She claps her hands together excitedly as she looks up at Atsumu, “I missed you so much, ‘Tsumtsum! You never bring me to dinners with your friends, this is so exciting for our relation—”

As Reiji was practically seething from the side like a predator ready to pounce an attack towards its enemy for disrespecting his best friend like that, and from the sudden thought of regret entering his mind of how he shouldn’t have trusted Atsumu for not doing anything. However, such thoughts were crushed almost instantly at the sight of the furious glare Atsumu was sending over to the model that was seated uninvitedly on your seat.

The sight of a furious Atsumu was enough to send a chill through her spine, as she was about to try to soothe the volleyball player by reaching out for him, he slaps her hands away which causes her to whimper, jutting her lower lip out to pout. “What did I do?”

“Are you serious, Yumi?” he snaps, nails burying into his palms to restrain his growing irritation, “I can’t believe you would do that.”

“Why does it matter?” she whines, trying to reach out for him once again, only to fail as he steps back further, “Are you serious right now? Who was that bitch anyway?”

Reiji interrupts, his voice full of venom from behind the model, “I’d watch your tongue if I were you.”

“Whatever,” she stutters, attempting to look unfazed by the singer’s words by rolling her eyes but her quivering posture radiated otherwise, “She shouldn’t matter, ‘Tsumtsum, let’s just continue dinner.”

“What are you? A child?” Osamu intrudes, not able to hold back his tongue any longer from this model’s personality, “Stop calling my brother such a horrendous nickname like a squealing pig.”

An offended gasp escaped her lips, glowering towards Osamu, “He likes it when I call him that, so sucks to be you! And I’m not a child, I’m a fully grown woman.”

“Could have fooled me,” Asuma mutters underneath his breath.

Yumi lets out a grunt. “Tell them, baby. You like it when I call you—Where are you going?”

He doesn’t spare her a glance, weaving his way through the restaurant to run after you, “I hate that nickname.”

Before Yumi could stand up and follow after him, her path was blocked by the other individuals around the table who had stood up the second they realized Atsumu’s plan of action. “What are you doing? Let me through! You’re all going to regret this!”

Yumi’s screech was the last thing Atsumu heard as he steps out of the restaurant, a part of him feeling bad for his friends being left to deal with Yumi’s ridiculous antics and well, for the other people in the restaurant that might have had their ears traumatized. He never really understood what he saw in her in the first place, it was Yumi who had approached him in the beginning anyway. He should have listened to Osamu instead.

He looks around frantically, wanting to be able to catch up to you. He needed to talk to you, to apologize for Yumi’s behavior. He was just hoping that, somehow, he still had a chance to fix things with you. Hopefully, Yumi’s appearance hadn’t ruined those chances.

He catches a glimpse of your retreating figure walking towards the nearest bus station and he feels his heart soar, you haven't gone too far yet. He doesn’t waste any more time than he already has, sprinting towards your direction, calling out your name.

At the sound of his voice, your name rolling off of his tongue in desperation, you turn your head to look back with confusion. He reaches you almost instantly after you pivot your body to face his direction. Despite looking flustered as he catches his breath, he takes your breath away.

“Oh, sorry.” a feminine voice interrupts his train of thought through memory lane, causing him to turn around, startled, “I didn’t realize someone was already occupying the balcony.”

He lets out an awkward laugh, shaking his head, “No, it’s okay. It’s not like I’d stop you, I don’t own the space or anything.”

“So you don’t mind if I share your space? The party inside is kind of suffocating.” she lets out a sigh, avoiding his gaze sheepishly.

“I don’t mind at all,” he nods, tearing his gaze away from her as she steps out onto the balcony. He returns his gaze over to the buildings of Shinjuku, the different bright hues from various buildings painting the night sky.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He hums softly, lifting the cold bottle of Sapporo up to his lips to take a quick sip. He lets out a sigh, “Just some stuff, it’s nothing really.” He turns to look over at her when she steps towards the edge of the balcony near him, “Wait, aren’t you Tobio-kun’s sister? The sports journalist?”

She lets out a laugh with a nod of her head, “Yeah, I’m glad I’ve made a name for myself then for some of the players here to recognize me. Though, I don’t think I appreciate being known as Tobio’s sister, not that I’m not proud of my brother or anything.”

“Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to.” he states sheepishly.

She shakes her head, offering him a small smile. “It’s okay, no worries. You realize the party is inside, don’t you? I think I heard Bokuto-san looking for you or something.”

“I suppose I’m not really in the mood right now,” he mutters underneath his breath, looking back up ahead. “Not really in the right mind space. I don’t really know why I’m telling you this, you’re a journalist.”

She pouts, “I’m not as bad as those gossiping sharks. I prefer to actually produce worthy news. Speaking of news, you’ve been everywhere lately. I suppose it’s hard for you. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if that happens.”

“I don’t mind it,” he admits, his forehead creasing.

“Pardon?”

He lets out another sigh, shifting his position so his back is leaning against the railing of the balcony, “I don’t mind it. I just wish she was left out of things. She doesn’t deserve such slander.”

“I suppose the woman associated in the news with you actually means something to you then,” she muses, “I always thought that model Yumi was irritating. I’m sure her fame will fly out the window sooner or later.”

He lets out a scoff of irritation, taking another swig of the beer in his hand, “Don’t even remind me of her.”

“She’s not really well liked either,” the journalist beside him snickers, “Don’t worry about it too much, you’ll grow wrinkles. Say, Miya-san, do you love her?”

He’s startled by the direct question, if it were not for his tight grip around the beer bottle, it would have slipped from his fingers and came crashing to the floor. No one, not even his brother, had asked him such a question. He never really thought about it, but ever since that night, you were all he could think about. “It’s complicated.”

“A lot of things are complicated.” she starts, tilting her head back up to look at the dark sky from the penthouse balcony, “There will always be complications, you know. But, do you know what’s the bright side of it?”

He turns his head to look over at her in curiosity, “What?”

She lets out a heavy sigh, a sad smile forming on her lips. “For each complicated situation we are in, the only person who can deal with such complications, is ourselves. Everything is in our hands. The only question you should be asking yourself is, what is the outcome you wish to have? Then from there, I’m sure you’ll be able to find a solution to your complicated situation.”

“I wish it were that easy,” he frowns, fluttering his eyelids shut as he lets the cold night breeze brush against his skin.

A laugh escapes her lips, “Nothing is ever easy. Life would be boring if that were the case. But all I can say is, it’s really up to you whether you want to take action or not.”

A comfortable silence engulfs the two occupants on the balcony, the soft chatter from the V.League Association party almost seemed it were music flowing throughout the large penthouse, the usual busy streets of Shinjuku were quiet as the time flew by, signalling how late it had gotten.

“Thank you,” Atsumu breaks the silence, a small smile playing on his lips.

She nods her head, returning his smile with her own, “It’s nothing, really. I may not know what’s really happening, but I know the feeling of being part of a complicated situation. Trust me, I’m having a hard time following my own advice.”

“I’m sure you’ll—”

“Am I interrupting something?”

The two switch their attention over to the man that steps into the comfortable space, Atsumu flickering his gaze back and forth to the woman next to him and the volleyball player that made his appearance. He notes the stiff posture of the woman who had been accompanying him and he comes to the conclusion that it was his cue to leave. “Ah, no Ushijima-san. I believe you’re looking for this one, so I’ll leave you two to it.”

Before Atsumu could leave the two to talk, the woman calls out his name. He glances back over his shoulder, capturing a glimpse of her encouraging smile. “If you love her, you should let her know.”

He gives her an appreciative smile before stepping back inside of the penthouse, the murmur of a chatter earlier from the balcony becoming more clear and loud. Placing the half-empty bottle of Sapporo down on a surface in the lounging area, he glances over at the digital wall clock.

An hour until midnight. It would take him at least an hour or so to travel back to Kanagawa from Shinjuku.

Not wasting another second, despite the calls from his teammates, he leaves the party with determination.

The thin hospital blanket you had requested earlier from a nurse barely gave you any warmth, your body engulfed in a chilly embrace. Not even curling up your body to a fetal position and clinging the white sheets closer gave you any source of heat.

Letting out a groan of frustration, you push the blankets away and shift your body to a sitting position on the rather uncomfortable armchair provided by the hospital, giving up on sleep for the meantime. Aside from the murmur produced from the air conditioner and the steady beeping of Atsuhiro’s vitals indicating a healthy heartbeat from the monitor, it was too silent for your liking.

You realize it was almost midnight after a quick glance at the digital clock that rested on the surface of the side table next to Atsuhiro’s bed, and you couldn’t help but let out a heavy sigh. At least Atsuhiro was sleeping peacefully. It had taken a while before he had gotten used to sleeping in another bed that wasn’t his, often waking up in the middle of the night or not being able to sleep at all.

The sound of shuffling breaks your train of thought and you shift your attention over to your sleeping mother who you insisted occupied the small couch. A little sore back was nothing of an appreciation for your mother’s attentiveness to your sons. She had refused to return back to Hyōgo until Atsuhiro had been discharged from the hospital, and despite it taking awhile since there hadn’t been a suitable donor for him yet, not a single complaint had left your mother’s mouth.

You couldn’t help but shoulder the burden of the delay on finding Atsuhiro a donor, the past weeks had been hectic and stressful. And if you were going to be honest, ever since that disaster of a dinner, you had been putting off the idea of having the much needed talk with Atsumu. You were just thankful that Atsuhiro’s condition hadn’t worsened since then.

You were, more or else, afraid, of where or how the conversation was going to end. The doubt you had was not just because of your insecurities, but it was also because, since that night, you hadn’t heard from Atsumu himself. You couldn’t blame him, the night had ended in disaster as well, nor was the morning after very pleasant from being bombarded with strings of questions from your friends.

Fame.

It was something you never got used to despite your friends being in a boy band for so long. You were now under the spotlight, and what was worse was that after some thorough digging by crazy fans, your sons, your precious sons, had been dragged through mud. However, you were grateful for certain fans, the fans of Galaxy Standard in particular, had defended you without much of a command from their idols. As soon as your name, and your kids, were mentioned, they immediately jumped in to defend you. Bless their souls.

Although, you still couldn’t believe it yourself of the events that occurred right after you had exited the restaurant, intent on returning to the hospital.

The already dreadful night takes a turn for the worst, the annoying high pitched shrill being repeated causing you to wince as the woman who had completely ruined, well, a already ruined dinner made her way through the threshold of little sanity that you had left and closed the gap between her and Atsumu by wrapping her arms around his neck from behind where he sat, she was dangerously standing close to you, more so enough for you to maybe stab your chopsticks to her side for her pesky squealing. What is she trying to imitate? A tortured pig?

You didn't bother to cease your eye roll, this is Atsumu's type? Now, you know you aren't all that amazing or anything and looking at the woman clinging to Atsumu, she looked all around amazing, it was pretty obvious that she was a model. However, the personality she was exhibiting was nowhere near your expectations of the women Atsumu would date. It was overbearing.

Instead of dealing with such ridiculous antics from a grown woman acting like a child, you decide it was best to find an excuse to leave. As the opportunity presented itself on a silver platter, you took it without any hesitation despite the quiet protests of Reiji from behind you. Exhaustion had left you with little sanity and dealing with someone like Yumi, well, you weren’t having it.

Saying your polite goodbye, you left without another word, ignoring the pleading looks from your friends. It wasn’t as if you were angry or anything, maybe just a tad on the jealous side when Yumi had introduced herself as Atsumu’s girlfriend, but either than that, you just wanted a quiet night. The rowdy bunch was already enough to drain you, but having to deal with someone like Yumi? Yeah, no thanks.

Stepping out of the restaurant, you shiver from the rush of cold air that brushes against the exposed patches of skin, making you silently regret not bringing a jacket with you. Instead of dwelling on your silly mistake, you wrap your arms around yourself for your momentary source of warmth, rubbing your exposed arms with your soft palms, it would have to do for the meantime.

Luckily, you were familiar with the area since you’ve been to the restaurant more times than you can count, that despite not having a ride back to the hospital, you were at least knowledgeable of the area. You began your journey towards the nearest bus stop, knowing it was still fairly early since the dinner hadn’t even progressed that far yet. Somehow, despite being irritated by Yumi's presence, you were grateful for intrusion, at least you would be able to return to Atsuhiro earlier than expected. You’d have to give Shizuma a call once you return to the hospital to check on Atsuhiko.

Thankfully, the walk to the nearest bus stop was short, because walking in heels was never something you adored, wincing already from the discomfort. You couldn’t wait to take them off for much more comfortable shoes. However, as you neared the bus stop, you hear his pleading shouts of your name and you halt almost instantly. For a moment, you wondered if it were just in your head, but at the sound of shouts mixed with hurried steps grew louder, your heart swells weirdly in your chest. Spinning around, you come to face Atsumu, catching his breath, his hands on his knees.

“What…?” you mutter under your breath, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be entertaining your girlfriend back there?”

As he regains his composure, he pushes himself to stand properly, meeting your gaze instantly. His gaze catching your breath in your throat. Mesmerizing.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he shakes his head, looking at you with sincerity in his eyes, “I promise.”

The corners of your mouth tug down to a frown, “Why are you telling me this, Atsumu? It’s fine. You’re not obligated to tell me who you’re dating. Just because we have kids together, doesn’t mean we should fix our shit and get togeth—”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts, causing your eyes to widen briefly before your brows furrowed in confusion from his apology. Sensing your confusion, he continues, “I’m sorry for everything. For our shitty past, for not treating you better, for not realizing my idiotic ways. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for a lot of things.”

You press your lips to a thin line, racking your brain for a response. Well, what were you supposed to say? You had imagined this before, imagined what it would be like when Atsumu apologizes for things, and back then, you would have seen yourself rejecting his apologies, but as you stood there at that very moment, you couldn’t find the anger that you had. Then, you realized. This was Atsumu.

Your best friend since you were eight years old, the one person that always bothered and teased you to no end, but no matter what, you could never find yourself being mad at him for a long period of time. You were always quick to forgive him.

“And, I’m sorry for this,” he breaks your train of thought and you wonder what he means for a second, but as he closes the gap between the two of you as he cups your cheeks in his hands, you don’t fight back.

You let him bring your face closer to his.

You don’t fight back.

Not even when his lips had found its rightful place against your own.

You are pulled from your thoughts at the sound of knocking echoing throughout the quiet room, not realizing how your fingers have found their way against your lips, brushing along its luscious shape, almost as if you were reminiscing the sensation of his lips.

The sound of knocking interrupts you once more and for a second, you had thought you had imagined it, but as it was repeated a few more times, you began wondering who it might be. After crossing the room in long strides, you slide the door open, eyes widening at the man standing before you.

“I love you.”

#atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu imagine #atsumu imagines #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #hq #hq x reader #hq imagine #hq imagines #hq x you #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader

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sorcerersofnyc · 3 years

Text

The Last Thing Left (Zemo x F!Reader) 9/9 - The Epilogue

If it wasn’t so painfully ironic (and hilarious to watch,) Helmut would find the relationship between Sam and James a little sad.

Ghosts weren’t enough to hold two people together.

While they wait for Torres to locate Donya Madani, Zemo brings Sam and Bucky to the home he once shared with you.

You reunite and he reflects upon his relationship with you (his wife’s friend and his friend’s wife) and your journey from being people with mutual friends to partners.

Part Nine: You Carry On

Angst, brief allusions to sex, I use Serbian Cyrillic as a stand-in for Sokovian.

Note: Main Character is neutral in most regards, but the story was written with my own cultural background in mind. (In other words, I won’t say what she looks like but I envision her as being black.)

First Chapter | Previous

***

You watch him go.

You watch him leave you once again— watch him go off into some dark, unknown future you can never be a part of.

And it hurts.

It hurts to know how much you’ll miss him, hurts to think you'll never see him again.

You take a deep breath (and another and another and another) but the pain only spreads faster as dread closes in all around you.

You feel lost in it, drowned by it, changed by it—but you won’t surrender to it. You’ve walked this road before and you know the way forward. So you take a step, then another, and you turn away from the outside world with a heavy, ragged breath.

The kitchen is far too cheery now. The sun streams inside through the open curtains, and the smell of coffee lingers in the air. Helmut washed the dishes before he left, leaving only his favorite mug behind. It stares at you from its place on the countertop, its dark ceramic gleaming in the light.

You don’t feel your knees buckle or your hands shake, you don’t feel the mangled sob rising up from your chest, you don’t feel the tears that gather at the corner of your eyes and pour down your cheeks like heavy rain.

Your body lurches forward. You reach out to steady yourself but somehow manage to knock the mug over instead. It strikes the title with a sickening clink that echoes through the air.

It chips, but it doesn't shatter. The coffee spills from the mouth and spreads fans out in every direction, staining the tiles on the floor.

Helmut would never know you chipped his favorite mug—but you cry about it anyway.

You cry for the life you could have had together, one where you dumped the stale remnants of his coffee every morning, one where your first kiss wasn’t also the last, one where he held you every day, and you healed your hearts together instead of apart.

You cried because your feelings had no place else to go.

Time passes.

You’re alright; you don’t break, or bend, or toil beneath the weight of your grief. The world moves forward, and so do you:

Anežka returns. (“How was the Baron?” She asks you. “We’re the two of you able to… become familiar with one another?” You wish.)

You learn Helmut was taken to the raft. (You order his affairs and have his things sent over to him.)

Sam Wilson becomes Captain America. (He gives a speech that inspires the world to do better.)

The Flag Smashers are killed in a car bombing. (‘No suspects as of yet,’ the report says and your heart tightens at the thought of who might have been responsible.)

You carry on.

You receive a package in the mail one day, a thick brochure from The Raft outlining the specifics of a Prison Work Rehabilitation Program.

The front photo was disturbingly picturesque, framing the facility as less of a prison and more like a seaside resort.

'Propaganda,’ you think as you flip through the glossy pages. The program is endorsed by some guy named Thaddeus Ross. You think he was a general or a secretary or something but you aren’t quite sure.

The back of the brochure displays an image of a happy family reuniting and you roll your eyes. Prisoners on the Raft don’t get to go home to their families.

You toss the brochure away without a second thought.

A few weeks later, you’re sent flowers after an art show. It’s a beautiful arrangement; twelve thick-stemmed roses wrapped in gold foil.

It adds a classic touch to the modern look of the Visiting Artists’ Office, standing out amongst the dark tables and chairs. But it’s the card that catches your attention; it was left completely blank.

You aren’t sure how you feel about having a secret admirer but you take the flowers home regardless. They’d look nice in a vase near the window, the bright reds mixing with the autumn leaves.

The trip home is short and uneventful and you thank your driver on the way to the door.

You slide your house slippers on and are surprised to see Anežka’s pink one’s by the door as well. You can hear her in the kitchen, opening and closing the doors of the pantry as the air grows warm with the spices of her favorite tea.

“Anežka,” You call out, “I’m home!”

You set the flowers on a side table, barely conscious of the soft footsteps trailing in from the kitchen till Anežka sets her mug down on the coffee table.

“Look what I’ve got. A 'secret admirer’ sent them. Should we put them here or downstairs?” You take an artful picture of the arrangement.

“Neither is a wholly appropriate place.”

You freeze.

Your mind draws blank as it fails to process the words you heard someone other than Anežka speak.

You turn around quickly, knocking the flowers off the table as you do.

“Helmut?” Your voice lowers as a million feelings bubble up inside of you. They threaten to explode.

Helmut is there—right there—dressed in nothing but a bathrobe and his house slippers with a cat-like smile stretched across his handsome features.

He strides forward with confidence, stopping so close you nearly reel back.

“These are special flowers, драга, brought all the way from Ecuador.” He kneels before you, the hem of his robe splitting at the knee to offer a very seductive glimpse of his thigh.

He reaches around you, grabs the fallen bouquet, and sets them gingerly on the table as he stands. “We should place these in your bedroom so you may admire them every night.”

“What’s happening?” You finally manage to ask him, “what’s going on?”

“I’m home,” Helmut teases, speaking as though you failed to notice his soft brown eyes, his damp hair, or the heat that surges between you as he stands close enough to touch, to kiss if you wanted.

He brushes a hand against your cheek.

“Helmut,” you whisper again, but your voice is stern and more controlled this time. “How are you here? You’re supposed to be in Raft.” Despite your words, you lean a little closer, resting both hands against his chest, near the opening of his robe.

“It seems someone of great influence decided my sentence was better served outside the walls of the prison.”

“Like civil service?” You ask, but then you remember the brochure you received in the mail— the propaganda, or so you believed. “Or… Prison Work Rehabilitation?”

“Something like that. There’s a team,” he makes a flippant gesture with his hand before bringing it to rest on the curve of your hip. “Though I needed time to address the matter of my… financial limitations.”

“Limitations?”

“Of course.” He pulls you closer, encircling you in his arms. “The holder of my assets is quite a formidable woman. I thought it best to pay her a visit, to request access to the full extent of my resources. As stubborn as she is, I assume it will take a great many visits.”

“That would be wise,” You nod slowly, a wide smile coming to your face.

“I can’t be with you always, драга,” he tells you, “but I will be here.”

And you don’t quite remember what you promise in reply (or if you promised anything at all) because he kisses you.

Your fingers slide down his chest, brushing past his chest hair and the little charm he wears around his neck.

You don’t know how long you stay there, kissing, and sighing, and melting in the arms of the man you love, but you’re vaguely aware of being walked back against the wall, of the front door opening and closing at some point, and of Anežka pausing by the threshold, groceries in hand.

“Anežka,” He greets her, but his dark and hungry gaze lingers on you, only you.

“Hello, Baron… It’s good to see you.” Her voice waivers, but the sentiment is real. “M-Miss,” she nods in your direction.

“Hi, Anežka.” You’re not quite sure what to say.

“Why don’t you take a few days off?” Helmut suggests, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take care of things here.”

“O-of course, Baron—Thank you.” Anežka glances between you one more time before setting the bags down near the door. “Good luck, Miss!” She calls out before leaving.

And as her footsteps grow quiet and hush in the distance, his eyes meet yours and his kiss finds its home upon your lips.

(And later when Helmut comes undone beneath your gaze and the rocking of your hips against his, you bring him home once again.)

And he keeps coming home to you.

***

And so we've reached the end. Thanks so much for reading! I appreciate all the support. This was my first fanfic in many years and I'm glad I could bring it to a close.

The end is a bit of wishful thinking on my part but I wanted to end on a happy note.

I'll probably write one or two bonuschapter that's basically just smut. So if you're 18+ and would like to remain on the taglist (or be added,) just let me know!

Taglist:

@actuallyanita, @fillechatoyante, @viviace, @buckyandlokicanhaveme, @sapphiredreamer26, @robur-bellicum, @apparrio

#Zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #mcu zemo #reader x zemo

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themonotonysyndrome · 3 years

Text

Halcyon Heart

Serving you guys part 5 of the ‘Successors of the Future’ today! Oh god, I procrastinate this oneshot like you wouldn’t believe it! Honestly? I’m not too happy about this piece but the plot must keep moving.

In this oneshot, the names of Leona, Ace and Deuce’s kids will be reveal! I did my best to keep their names within the card games theme and overall, I think they turned out ok. I went with the deep meaning name for Leona’s son. Kudos to anyone who manage to figure out the meaning behind them!

This oneshot can’t begin without us thanking the great @tri3tri for her amazing Second Wive AU. Please drop by at her blog to see even more yandere!Malleus content.

“Well... you certainly are MC’s daughter, Renata-chan.” The headmaster sigh tiredly. Behind his mask, Crowley narrowed his eyes at the three students sitting across his desk. Said girl is at least apologetic (Crowley assumed she is, because she can barely look him in the eyes), the two boys with her - Hoyle Trappola and Rex Spade are just seconds away from passing out from sheer exhaustion, sporting scorch marks on their face, hair and uniforms.

Crowley resists pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. And to think, his day has been going on so well too. He had finally managed to complete all of his paperwork before the end of the month, the teaching staffs aren’t passive-aggressively bickering with one another for once, and the cook in the cafeteria even left the last dessert of the day just for him!

And then came Professor Crewel kicking his office’s door down, dragging three rowdy puppies behind him and a report about scorched marks on pavements and fountain due to misconduct of magic.

When Crowley leans to the side to see which students were responsible, he could only sigh. Was it too much to ask for this generation of Trappola, Spade and MC/S not to inherit their parent’s ungodly habit of getting into trouble!?

So here there are now, three students waiting for punishments. At that moment, Crowley felt as if he was transported into the past as he stares down at them.

Crowley folded his arms across his chest and said, “Professor Crewel reported your misbehaviours and the damages done. Now, what I want to know is how this happened.” Silence. “Well? Would anyone like to share the story?”

Almost instantly, the young Spade spoke up. “It’s all Hoyle’s fault!” An indignant hiss of, “Shut it, Rex!” interrupted him, but the boy ignored it and pressed on, “He dropped a food tray on MC/S-san when she was eating.”

“Oi! I told you already! It was an accident, alright!?” Young Trappola is quick to defend himself, disgruntled about the whole affair. Beside him, Renata just rolled her eyes. Despite looking so much like her father, she’s surprisingly expressive with a lit fused of a temper.

“An accident? While young Trappola did commit a mistake, does it warrant an... explosive reaction, MC/S-san?” Here, Crowley stares pointedly at the girl.

Renata sigh. “No, headmaster.”

“In the future, please restrain yourself MC/S-san. Now then, punishment.” The three of them groaned, and unimpressed, Crowley tilt his head at them. “Keep that up and I will extend your punishment to a month.”

The teenagers straighten up after that. Good. So he continues.

“The three of you will be cleaning the Hall of Mirrors starting tomorrow, right after your last class of the day. Now, because the damages are only minor, your punishment will only be for a week. If I catch any reports that the three of you misbehaving again, I will extend the punishment. Is that clear?” Crowley demanded.

“Yes, headmaster.” The three of them drone simultaneously.

And with that, Crowley dismisses them. Once the door is click shut, voices are raised outside - the three of them are bickering again - before footsteps carried them away.

The headmaster could only wordlessly shake his head. Looks like he’s in for another rough few years until these three graduated.

Just like old times.

Outside at the quiet hallway, the only noises that can be heard this evening are Hoyle’s heated complaints, Rex’s put out sighs and Renata’s outwardly annoyance (in the inside though, Hoyle’s flying food tray was a pleasant surprise. Sometimes, it’s nice not to use Observer all the time).

“Quit your complaining already, Hoyle.” Rex interjects when he could no longer tolerate his whining. “At least the headmaster didn’t expel us!”

“Yeah, yeah. And you!” Hoyle said and focused his attention on Renata. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow when he glares at her. “This is not just my fault, you know! Got anything to say about that?”

Renata nodded, her face turned serious though her lips struggle not to twitch into a cheeky grin. “Yes. Dodge better next time.”

Rex gapes at her, incredulous and certainly not expecting that comment while Hoyle bristles.

“This is going to be a long week.” Rex muttered as Renata pretend to be nonchalant when Hoyle demanded an apology.

True to his word, their week shaped up to be rather long and busy. Not only did the three of them were reprimanded by the headmaster and their Dorm Leaders, they also had piles and piles of homework and club practise on top of their punishment. By the time Thursday roll by, they were ready to collapse from exhaustion.

Tonight, Rex had to drag Hoyle by his arm as they head towards Heartslabyul’s main mirror that leads to Hall of Mirrors. A few of their dorm members watch their shenanigans with amusement while others snickered; it’s practically known throughout their dorm of their punishment.

“For fuck’s sake, Rex, lemme go! Why can’t we let Renata clean the mirrors tonight for once!?” Hoyle exclaimed, doing his best o wrestle his arm free but surprisingly, Rex is a lot stronger than he lets on.

“Do you want her to complain to the headmaster that we’re slacking off?” Rex suggests. “And extend our punishment? Look, the sooner we can finish off cleaning the Hall of Mirrors, the sooner we can have our free time again.”

“I hate that you make sense.” Hoyle grumbled but decided not to argue any further.

When they step through the mirror, they found that Renata is already there, waiting for them. Her back was facing them, and she’s currently talking to... no one.

“ - was ok. I mean, with all things considered and I didn’t use any of my spells so shut up, Cherry.” A voice - it sounds like a woman - chatter back. “It’s just cleaning the mirrors of the seven dorms, no big deal. Mm-hmm, I promise not to throw fire at people next time, Mama.” The woman - apparently, Renata’s mother - said something, but it’s muffled. “Will do, Mama. Goodnight, I love you too.”

Renata put something - not a phone. It’s too small to be one - into her blazer’s pocket and turn around.

She greets them, “What kept you guys? I already swept the floor and dusted the walls.”

“This one wanted to ditch.” Rex reply, pointing a finger at Hoyle before he grabs the mop and bucket.

“Oi! You didn’t have to tell her.” Hoyle snapped.

“Uh, did you think on how that’s going to be for you if it’s only me and Spade-san doing the cleaning?” Renata asked, looking and clearly judging how many brain cells he has.

Hoyle just told her to shut up and picks up a wet sponge from a spare bucket filled with soap to start cleaning Scarabia’s mirror.

It’s quiet as they clean up the Hall of Mirrors. As Rex mop the floor, he could see Renata focusing on her task in wiping the mirror that he and Hoyle just used. During the Entrance Ceremony, he could only catch a glimpse of her from the back of the crowd, confused as to why his seniors are mumbling and commenting about her appearance.

Only the blind couldn’t see how beautiful the girl is. If Rex is the poetic sort, he would liken the night of a full moon and stars to her. But honestly, other than her pretty face, he doesn’t understand why their seniors tend to give her a wide berth whenever she walks by.

Hell, he even noticed that her own dorm members are polite yet strangely distant with her.

Rex wonders if she’s lonely. “So, uh, you’re pretty good with magic, huh MC/S-san?” He blurted out. He surprises himself at his sudden boldness.

Thankfully Renata didn’t find it strange or awkward. “More or less. Magic always fascinated me, even when as I was a kid. I’ve been testing the limit of my magic ever since.” Pleased at herself when Heartslabyul’s mirror gleam under the bright light, she moves on to Savanaclaw’s.

“What about you, Spade-san?” Renata threw his question back.

“It’s alright, MC/S-san! You can call me Rex.”

“Ah, then please call me Renata. Since you extend the same courtesy and all.”

An easy conversation flow between them after that. Occasionally, Hoyle would join them, his brand of sarcasm or snarkiness here and there but overall, it was nice to talk to him. And when he threw a rather malicious teasing to Renata, she threw right one back. It strangely morphs into a playful banter between the three of them.

Cleaning felt less like a punishment after that.

When they finally reach the final day of their punishment, something happened.

While Hoyle and Rex shared the same class - 1-A - Renata is in 1-B. And it just so happen that her negligence came to bit her in the ass.

After History lesson ended for class 1-A and Hoyle was the last one to leave due to Professor Trein holding him back to talk about his recent subpar assignment, a Heartslabyul student from 1-B called him out.

“Extra assignment? This is the worst...” Hoyle sigh in dejection once he finishes reading the piece of paper given to him by the teacher. Dangling the piece of paper in low spirits, Hoyle resigned himself to many, many trips to the library so this extra assignment can boost his grade from F to a D.

So lost in his thought, he completely missed that his name being called. It was only when a student - his dorm member - grab his shoulder that he broke out from his train of thoughts.

“Hey, you’re Hoyle Trappola, right? The one that was nearly flambé alive, yeah?”

Hoyle bristle. Is that what people are calling him now? The flambé dude? Urgh, this is seriously all Renata’s fault! “What do you want?” He snaps. Unfortunately for him, the Heartslabyul student was unfazed of his bad mood.

“Listen, I need you to do something for me. I shared the same class as that Diasomnia girl, 1-B. Earlier today she left this in class.” Hoyle’s dorm member explain and showed him a plain-looking journal. “She left quickly and when I saw her at the Main Street, she was with Bakari Kingscholar. Anyway, I just thought that since you and Rex are cleaning the Hall of Mirrors with her, you can give this back.”

“Why are asking me to do it? You just said that you saw her at the Main Street!”

“Yeah and with Kingscholar. I couldn’t approach her; not when that guy glared at me and my legs froze up. So here you go!”

And with that, he shoves the journal into Hoyle’s arms, making him fumble with the paper and journal before they could drop. “Oi! I’m not doing your fucking errand - ” Hoyle shouted, but by then, his dorm member had long jog off with a cheerful wave goodbye. “Seriously... this is so not my day...”

As Hoyle made his way to the library, he absentmindedly flips through the pages of the journal. Not all care that it was rude to rummage through others’ belonging. Notes about various classes mostly filled the pages; others are just mindless doodles that the girl probably drew out of boredom.

“Isn’t there anything good in here? Something that can knock her off her high horse maybe.” Hoyle murmurs to himself as he continues to flip the pages. Rex might be willing to let it slide that it was Renata that landed them in trouble with the principle but not him. Hoyle felt that a prank would even the score between them.

By the time he scored himself a nice, quiet table in the corner of the library, he reaches to the last page of Renata’s journal. His eyes widen at the sight of a strange rune that took up the entire white page. There were even some notes written around it. “Well, well, what is this? Communication rune? This looks interesting...”

Later that night as Rex was about to step through the mirror, he felt something... not quite right. Perhaps he ate something bad during dinner. His uneasiness is not going to dampen his high spirits though. Finally, tonight is their last day of punishment! Tomorrow they’ll be free humans!

“Yo, Rex! Glad to see you show up before MC/S.”

Hoyle greets him with a wide grin, standing in the centre of the hall.

“Oh, you were here first, Hoyle? Did you start cleaning?” Rex was surprised that Hoyle actually took the initiative to start their chore before them. Rex’s heart is touched. Maybe Hoyle isn’t all that bad -

“What? Forget about cleaning, check out what I have!”

Nevermind. Rex takes it back.

Hoyle didn’t hesitate to drag the unimpressed Rex close to him and shove a piece of folded paper in between his eyes. When he unfolded it, Rex is confused. Someone had drawn a rune. Now, Rex doesn’t know all that much about runes and their inner workings, so he has no idea why Hoyle has this with him.

“What is this? Your homework?” Rex asked, his face scrunched up. “I don’t remember seeing this in class.”

Hoyle rolled his eyes. “It’s not homework. I found this in MC/S’s journal this morning and tried to checked all the books about runes and stuff in the library but nothing came up. How crazy is that!” He excitedly explains, eyes shining brightly.

Rex didn’t share his enthusiasm, however. “You stole Renata’s journal?” His eyes are wide in disbelief. He threw the piece of paper back at Hoyle who easily catch it. “Do you want her to burn you again!?”

“What she won’t know, won’t harm her. That is, if you keep this between us.” Hoyle reply, narrowing his eyes at Rex in a threatening manner.

Rex just throws his hands up in exasperation. “She’s going to find out when she realised that her journal is missing! Look, just put put that thing back and - ”

“Hell no. I want to test this out. Aren’t you curious too?” Hoyle demanded, and that’s when Rex notices that he has a marker pen in his other hand. “And beside, I’ll give the journal back to her once we find out what this rune does.” He then walks around him towards the Heartslabyul mirror and starts drawing.

“W-Wait! It’s against the rule - ” Rex stammers out, but Hoyle quickly interrupts him.

“Rule 809: One should not vandalise Heartslabyul’s mirror. Yeah, yeah, I remember. But this - ” Hoyle stops drawing to gesture at the marker pen in his hand “ - is not a permanent. So I’m not technically breaking any rules if I can just clean it up later.” He answered with a nonchalant shrug.

Rex paused to ponder. Well, Hoyle put it that way... More than that, Rex is baffled that Hoyle remembers that particular rule of their dorm.

“Done!” Hoyle huff proudly before taking a step back to admire his handiwork. He briefly glances at the paper and then back to the mirror - it’s a perfect copy. The two boys watch as the surface of the mirror ripple once before the rune vanishes, and the mirror becomes pitch black.

“Whoa... I’ve never seen any mirror in Night Raven College look black before.” Rex said in awe. He gently and carefully presses his fingers on the surface, and it pushes through. “It feels like any other enchanted mirrors though.”

“It’s not suppose to lead anywhere. According to the notes, it’s a communication rune.” Hoyle explains. “But there’s no such thing as communication runes so this must be something that MC/S came up.”

Rex’s eyes widen at Hoyle’s theory. Runes are notoriously one of the hardest subjects ever in all of Twisted Wonderland. She mentioned that she’s been experimenting with magic, but Rex didn’t expect that she could do something like this!

Suddenly, Rex’s awe quickly turns to horror when something yanks his fingers into the mirror.

“What the - ”

“Rex!” Hoyle shouted and grabbed his arm to pull his back. Rex’s arm is inside of the black mirror! A powerful tug completely yanks the two of them into the mirror and the surface return to normal.

The next thing they realise is that they’re now in the mirror.

And that’s how Renata found them; a piece of paper with her rune on it and rex and Hoyle pounding furiously from the inside of the mirror and screaming at her to get them out.

“For fuck’s sake you guys - ”

Needless to say, the three of them are in for a long night.

“So you finally decide to show up? You kept me waiting for an hour. I love to hear your excuse - why do you look like shit?”

“Shut up, Kingscholar. I don’t want to hear it from you.”

“...Right. Any reason why there’s Heartslabyul students in my mirror then?”

“Whoa, so this is how it looks like inside of the Savanaclaw dorm!”

“I, uh, didn’t expect that you like to do homeworks in, uh, Kingscholar’s bedroom, Renata-san.”

Bakari glares at Renata who just look tired and supporting heavy, black eye bags. The girl in question refused to look at him.

And there we go! This is the start to Renata, Hoyle and Rex glorious friendship and shenanigans. Their friendships mirrored their parents except the kids are lot stronger; magically-wise. I’m fleshing out their characters and Unique Magic as we go along the series but so far, I have a pretty good idea how I want them to turn out.

#twisted wonderland #fanfic #Draconia Family series #Second Wive AU #tri3tri #Renata Draconia #Hoyle Trappola #Rex Spade #Bakari Kingscholar

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babyspiderling · 3 years

Text

Up To Interpretation Michael Jackson x reader

(Victory Tour)

I stand on the corner of the stage, the arena dead silent around me. I hear a radio playing softly from somewhere backstage and I sign along, closing my eyes and letting my hands dance and tell the story the singer weaves. I hear the click of hard souls on the concrete, their clacks drawing closer to me. The squeak of sneakers, or some kind of rubber soled shoe follows behind the first set. I don't stop signing through the interruption, focused on keeping up with the speed and the intent behind it. I hear both feet whispering to each other, but I don't pay them any mind. I have to be perfect for the first performance of the tour. The rubber soles squeak away as the click clack of the other pair grows closer. A hand is placed on my shoulder and I turn to the hard soled feet. I am met with one of the singers I am interpreting tonight. I concentrate on his eyes, signalling him to go on. Behind him, I see one of his brothers run up behind him, his rubber sneakers squeaking across the stage, a notebook and pen in hand. He shouts "I got what you asked for Mike!" Mr. Hard Shoes glances over his shoulder and accepts the items. Opening the book, he scribbled down on the paper. He quickly shoves the book into my hands and gestures to me to read what he had written. "Hello, my name is Michael Jackson. Who are you and what are you doing here?" His handwriting is a bit difficult to read, random capitalization's here and there, and the words scribbled quickly and carelessly. I guess I was taking too long to read the note, sneakers huffing out a "Great, not only is she deaf, but illiterate." I swallow and hand the book back to Michael, turning to sneakers. I stare him in the face as I sign. "Me not deaf. Me hearing. Me don't speak. Me sign. Me sign for you."

A/N: This is ASL Gloss, The sentence structure for ASL is a bit different than regular English. ASL is quick and to the point, since there are no signs for words like "and" "the" "or" etc. Deaf People are not cavemen, they can express the same thoughts, feelings, and ideas we can, they just do it a little differently.

His mouth drops open a little bit in confusion, his eyes locked on mine as he says to Michael, "What is she saying and why is she staring at me?" I roll my eyes and turn back to Michael. I sign "Your book, you give me? Please?" Michael gets the picture, the sign for book clueing him in. "Oh! You want my notebook? Here." He hands me the notebook and pen and I write carefully and legibly. "I'm not deaf. I'm actually hearing. I'm mute, so I sign. I'm your interpreter for the U.S leg of the tour." I hand the book back and patiently wait for him to read it. He playfully smacks sneakers upside the head, laughing out a "You idiot, she's not a crazy fan. She's our interpreter for the show! And she heard everything you said." I smile, seeing the relationship the two have.

Sneaker's eyes widen comically as he realizes how far he stuck his foot in his mouth. He walks up to me, holding out his hand for me to shake. "Sorry 'bout that. I'm Jackie. We just saw some girl standing on stage waving her hands around like a crazy person, and didn't know what to think." I shake his hand, signing book again so I can properly introduce myself. Under my previous message I write "I'm Y/N, I understand the confusion. I'm mute, meaning I can't talk, but I can hear everything just as well as you can. For some reason, the fact that I can't talk made them hire me on the spot. I was actually about to ask for the set list so I can rehearse, or at least be a little prepared for tonight." I hand the notebook to Jackie and keep the pen to myself, writing on my wrist to purchase a few notebooks myself. He nods and leads me to the backstage area, Michael following close behind. "I'll introduce you to the guys and get you the set list, alright?" I nod my head, memorizing the path since I probably won't be able to ask for directions if I got lost.

Jackie leads me to a dressing room filled with four other guys and two girls. Michael introduces me to the group, "Guys, this is Y/N, she's our interpreter for the U.S leg of the tour. Y/N, this is Jermaine, Marlon, Randy and Tito. These are our sisters La Toya and Janet." I wave to them, staying silent. Marlon says "Cool, signing even when off the clock, nice gimmick." I look back to Michael and sign "They read book." He stutters out "Oh right. Here guys, this should explain some." He takes the notebook from his pocket and tosses it to Jermaine, who then passes it around. La Toya walked up to me with this glint in her eye. "Oh! You're so pretty! If we were going anywhere else, I wouldn't do a thing, but those stage lights will completely wash you out, even the guys have to wear makeup. Can I get you ready?" I think about it, and nod. I hold up a finger, and write down. "It has to be simple. Nothing flashy. Rules of the game. No jewelry, no distracting clothes, no sparkle eye makeup. Not up to me, just comes with being an interpreter." She reads it quickly and sags her shoulders a bit. "Fine, I get it. Nothing too flashy. But I promise, we're going to have some fun." She drags me to a second dressing room, one with lit up mirrors and vanities. She sits me down and pulls out a giant makeup case. I relax my face and let her do her thing, trusting her to not go overboard. She plugs in a curling iron as she finishes up my makeup. Without any paper around, I try my best to communicate. I pull my hair back, off my face, another rule of interpreting. Luckily, La Toya got the message. "Oh! Hair back, got it." She curls my hair, completely covering it in hairspray, and gives me a beautiful bun on the top of my head, leaving the second half of my hair down. I inspect myself in the mirror, never feeling this beautiful in my life. I turn to La Toya and sign "Thank you", hoping that if she doesn't understand my hands, she can understand the look in my eyes.

I walk out into the hallways, now hustling and bustling as it gets closer to show time. I was given the set list and lyric sheet for the night while I was made over. I run the entire show at least 5 times before being called to take my place, the instructional prologue getting ready to play.

By the end of the show, my wrists and fingers ached from the fast movements to stay on pace with the band. Walking backstage, I just want to take my makeup off and stretch out my aching joints. Michael stops me in the hall and asks me, "Hey, you want to fly with us? I'd love to get to know you more, plus give you the set list for the next show to let you practice." I nod, wanting to answer his questions. He lights up. "Maybe, you can teach me some sign language? Don't get me wrong, I love writing back and forth, but it'd be cool to sign to each other" He leads me to the limo that is taking him to the hotel and then the airport in the morning. "I'm not sure where your room is, but I can have your stuff sent to mine and we can talk some. If you'd like." I shrug my shoulders, I didn't know either. He makes a quick phone call and I watch the lights move past. "Hey, Y/N, you were really cool there. It was like you were singing and dancing with your hands at the same time. Why don't you talk? If you don't mind me asking. You don't have to answer." I hold out my hand for the notebook and try my best to write on the bumpy road. "Long story. I'll tell you at the hotel, roads too rough to write it out on the way." He reads my writing and nods in understanding. "I get it." We fall into a comfortable silence as we drive to his hotel.

I follow Michael through the lobby, up the elevators and to his suite. My bags are placed in the main room, and Michael stretches his arms above his head. "Hey, Y/N, I'm going to go take a shower. If your story really is as long as you're saying, go ahead and start writing it down. I can read it while you shower." I nod and he hands me a legal pad, much better than the little hand notebook Michael carried around at all times. I sit down and start writing.

"I've been mute since I was 6 years old. My dad and I were going to the record store to listen to some and take others home to add to our collection. The light turned green, and we went, but someone else swerved into our lane, causing a head on collision. My dad died on impact, but they said he didn't feel any pain. Pieces of glass got caught in and cut my throat. I woke up in the hospital with no vocal chords, no voice. The damage done was too much for them to take and they had to be removed. I don't want your pity, I've gotten nothing but pity since I was 6. I'm not fragile and you do not need to treat me as such." I put the pen down just as Michael finished up in the bathroom. I gestured to the pad, and grabbed clothes for the shower. When I came out Michael was just staring at the paper, some areas warped with his spilled tears. He looked up at me with glossy eyes and enveloped me in his arms. "Oh, Y/N, I am so sorry. We don't have to talk about it or anything. We can just go to bed right now if you want." I shake my head. I break away reluctantly and go back to the paper. "No, it's ok. If you have any questions I will do my best to answer them." He thinks for a moment and asks, "Can you make any sounds? If you don't have vocal chords, how can you be vocal?" I hum a little tune, and make a couple of noises. We sit down, and he asks me to teach him to sign. We start with finger spelling.

"What's your favorite candy?" "(F-A-V-O-R-I-T-E C-A-N-D-Y)" "Wow! I love those! I like S-K-I-T-T-L-E-S. Oh! And P-E-A-N-U-T M-N-M-S!" I smile at him. He's a really fast learner. I yawn and glance at the clock. I sign "time" and point at the clock. He follows my finger and reads the time. "Oh wow, 1:30. We should probably get to bed. I'll take the couch and see you in the morning." I reach for the pen to protest but he snatches it before I can lay a finger on it. "No Ifs ands or buts. I'm taking the couch." I roll my eyes, signing "Silly boy" and making my way to the bed. I fall into a blissful sleep easily.

The next morning Michael and I are on our way to the plane, the next stop being Irving. We sit across from each other, Michael signing what he can, and writing what he can't. I teach him little words and phrases as we go, and specific ones at his request. Sooner than expected we touch down and make our way to the venue. The entire tour goes by in a flash, performing every night with the boys, only watching from the wings our eight shows in Canada. On our last night in LA and my last night on the job, Michael drops a bomb on everyone around the world. That this was the last show for the tour. I translated what he said for the audience, a look of complete confusion on my face. I struggled to focus on the task at hand, translating for those Deaf at the show, unable to comprehend what had just happened. The show had ended finally and it was chaos backstage. People yelling at Mike for his cancellation, calling it selfish, immature. I couldn't help but feel a little hurt. I knew that this was my last show, and that I would no longer be working with the band, but I thought he would at least tell me since I thought we were close. I pushed through the throngs of angry managers and crew members back to my little corner.

I gathered my things, coming across one of the notebooks that Michael and I had practically filled. The others full of writing were in my suitcase back at the hotel. In my heartache, I accidentally dropped the notebook, its pages falling open on impact. A page filled with shading and lines caught my attention, its place in the back making it invisible to me. Examining it closely, I realize it's an incredibly done sketch of me, done by Michael. I was asleep when he did this. I think it was on the plane to Denver. I gently closed the pages, and placed it into my bag.

I turned my gaze to the sound of the door opening, revealing none other than the artist himself. With creased eyebrows, I simply sign "Why?", not understanding why he did it a bit. He sagged, as if all the air had been let out of him. "Because, Y/N, I couldn't stand being under their thumb anymore. I couldn't work with Joseph anymore, I need to be the one in control. I want to make my own music, send my own message, without anyone telling me otherwise." I nod, understanding where he was coming from, but sad to see him go. I wiped at my tears and signed "I'll miss you Applehead." This made him chuckle and pull me in for a long, large hug. "I'll miss you too." He kissed the top of my head and took a step back. He signed "You always in my heart." something I had taught him, but fragmented. He picked up the notebook laying in the top of my bag and tore out an empty page, as well as a pen. He handed both to me. "Write down your address and I promise I will write to you practically everyday. And if I ever go on tour, I know just who I'll hire to be my interpreter." With one final tearful hug goodbye, it was time for us to go our separate ways. I would miss him, but I knew I would always be in his heart, and he in mine.

Taglist: @accio-boys

#michael jackson #michael jackson imagine #michael jackson x reader #80s imagines #80's imagine #80's fanfiction #80's x reader

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frecklystars · 9 months

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Hey! :) are you still cool with sharing Ken as a romantic f/o? I wanted to ask because it seems like you're closer to him then you were in the beginning and I know you had some really fucked up experience sharing f/os in the past with that person who made self shipping a trigger for you. I wanted to share my story of how my Barbie meets Ken but I don't want to intrude especially when this is the first time you're beginning to self ship again in a very long time, I don't want to mess that up.

Oh gosh, well firstly anon thank you so much for asking in the first place. That is extremely considerate of you.

When a few of you first asked me "hey are you okay with sharing barbie F/Os" I was like "hell yeah!" and that was I think only after the first or second time I saw the movie, and I did not expect to love this movie as much as I do, I didn't expect to become so attached to these characters because I haven't felt attached to any F/Os in a long ass time. I didn't expect to genuinely start feeling joy again. I really thought they'd be "kissed and thrown into the pile" as I like to put it... but I've started really relying on them. And ahh like you said, I had a totally fucked up experience haha :') I really don't want to be an asshole who suddenly changes my mind about sharing when I said I was fine with it though

I mean, I've always been fine with self shippers interacting and talking with me even if we did share main F/Os (I have 500 F/Os, I am bound to share at least a few with people, surely) but with these F/Os specifically I feel a little apprehensive because this is the first time I'm actually Not Numb to self shipping in suuuuch a long tiiiiime and I have so much anxiety trusting people now after my aforementioned Fucked Up Experience... not just with sharing F/Os, but even people I've been friends with for 10 years that I should know would never betray me in any way, I'm on guard, in the back of my head thinking that everyone I care about is going to betray me eventually bc I was just so used to being betrayed and manipulated and lied to every single day by someone I was close to, over and over and over and over, and having my F/Os be used against me at the same time was the killing blow

If I didn't have the whole, um, [vaguely gesturing to the bullshit that has happened in the last 12 months] y'know, that experience, I wouldn't be so... cautious, with sharing Barbie/Ken, if that is the word I'm looking for?? Because the last time I shared my F/Os with a close friend, I started to associate every single hurtful action of hers with those F/Os, and I lost my TF special interest of 3 years and I am so, so severely depressed without them. and I don't know if I'll ever get them back. and I'm just now starting to feel a little bit of hope for myself, and I don't know if this hyperfixation is even going to last longer than just a couple of weeks because none of my hyperfixations ever last longer than a month (except TF and SBTM which lasted years, but I'm numb to them now). I am so, so, so scared of associating Barbie/Ken with the wrong person and all of a sudden losing them when they're helping me get back up when I've been knocked down for so, so long.

I don't know if I articulated that in a way that makes sense but I guess my answer is, uh... I am okay with sharing in very small doses and taking it slowly, and if it's not too inconvenient I'd appreciate being asked first before gushing (and the way you handled it here was very polite and I appreciate you, thank you for doing that). Also I extend that same courtesy to everyone btw, I am staying here in my own little corner. I never gush to anyone unprompted unless if I'm asked to do so. Idk if I had to say that but just in case 💖

#anonymous #asks #anon. thank you so much. also im sorry my answer was so long #short answer: yes depending on how my anxiety/ptsd is doing in that moment #i dont want to be 100% cutting myself off from sharing bc i used to love sharing!#but my trauma is making me so so so so hesitant. im working on it though!!!#trust me i have never worked harder on my mental health than i have in the last year #i have never been more determined in my entire life to heal from something #bc i have never ever been this low

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hansolmates · 4 years

Text

jjk; angel’s trumpet [03]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut in future chapters w.c; 5k a/n; we’re finally getting into some traction with the main plot! who are we liking more so far, w1!jk or w2!jk??

[02] [03] [04]-> masterpost

Instead of going to the doctor, you take a trip to the library. If Namjoon thinks your ideas are supernatural, you’re going to find someone who believes in the supernatural.

He calls you in the morning just to make sure you’re going to his recommended doctor. You fabricate a lie that the doctor friend he recommended is busy so you’re going to go find another one in the meantime. Just in case Namjoon decides to ask said doctor about your current mental and physical state, you want to make sure you cover your tracks. As much as you want to give it another go and help Namjoon understand your precarious situation, you weren’t up for another possibility of rejection.

You wanted to avoid Namjoon’s rejection so much that you’d rather turn to unconventional alternatives to finding your answer.

Unfortunately, Tony Stark and Steven Strange do not exist in this universe, and therefore you need to turn to more practical measures.

Seoul University has a zillion libraries, and you decide to go to the general library in the hopes you’ll find something in the subject of world-hopping. Unfortunately you haven’t been in a huge library since you were a senior in college, and the smell of paper, sad students and ink all but overwhelms you.

You’re about to start wandering when a young voice snatches your attention. “Miss,” you feel a tug at your belt loop, and you notice a little boy looking up at you with a pout. “I lost my way after using the bathroom and I can’t find the daycare.”

A little part of you wonders who on earth could’ve let a boy no older than five out of their sights, especially in such a spacious building. Alas, you smile and offer him your hand, suggesting that the two of you look for a map.

“Well it’s a good thing we found each other!” you say brightly, encouraging the kid to follow you to the kiosk, “I was just about to look for a map because I’m a little lost too, we can read it together.”

The boy tells you his name is Bogum, and you respond with yours and explain that it’s okay to get lost, especially when this library is so big. He listens to you with rapt attention, wide eyes as you spell out the words “daycare” using the little paper map you brought with you from the lobby.

Bogum and you stop in front of a plain room with a cheap powder blue baby gate, deep in the children’s section of the library. It’s there that you spot five or so children huddled over the flatscreen television, ‘oh’ and ‘ah’-ing over whatever film’s prattling on. You’re not surprised that Frozen 2 remains a sensation in both worlds.

Bogum opens the door first, and you make eye contact with the only adult in the room. He’s lean and friendly-looking, holding a child in their lap as they sing along to “Into the Unknown”. Your heart is caught in your throat, begging to be released as your eyes widen in surprise.

“Hobi!” you blurt instinctively, but you immediately clamp your mouth upon realizing. You really need to get used to this, but honestly how can anyone get used to this kind of situation? Hoseok will definitely be the fourth person you’ve alarmed in the past five days.

Hoseok’s jaw drops slightly, head tilted as the rest of the mini-crew train their eyes on you. You shrink in the presence of children, knowing from experience nothing gets by them.

“Is that your girlfriend, Hobi-ah?”

“Do you know her, Mr. Hoseok?”

“She looks scared, what did you do?”

The affronted man presses his lips in a thin line, “Dunno,” he answers vaguely. He seems unperturbed, hands settling in his traffic cone orange sweatpants. He gestures to the snacks in the middle of the room, releasing the children’s inner fire for food, “but it’s fruit snack time! Go ahead and grab your water from the cubbies, you can eat while you watch.”

The babies cheer, and you smile fondly as the kids rip open their packets and giggle over Olaf. You wish you could go back to simpler times.

“So,” Hoseok stands up, and gestures for you to sit at the small kids table in the back, “Do I know you? I don’t know if I know you, but I feel like I know you. Because you know me.”

Deciding you need to sit down for his bombardment you squeeze your legs into the worn Fisher-Price desk, running your nails over the crayon stains and pencil shavings. “Uh, no?”

“Did we have a class together? Hook-up? Friend’s hook-up that I tried to coerce into a threesome?”

“Ohmygod, there are children here!” you hiss, but Hoseok just smiles plainly, offering you a bag of fruit snacks that he snagged before the children emptied his bowl. You accept the gesture, unable to make eye contact.

Seeing the members out of their clan of seven is still jarring to you. You can’t imagine a world without the seven of them together. Like they always say, Bangtan is fate.

“I just wanted to return Bogum,” you say, crinkling the foil bag in your grasp, “and I’m actually looking for a professor who has her office hours here. I have uh, questions on my thesis on alternate universes.”

“Ah, are you referring to Professor Song?” you nod, “she cancelled her office hours for today, if you bothered to email her. And anyways, she doesn’t take kindly to questions on supernatural phenomena. Not since her latest book on paranormal channeling tanked.”

Your face visibly falls, dejected. You probably should’ve tried to schedule an appointment. “O-oh.”

“But as a non-judgemental soul, I would be happy to assist you on your ‘thesis’.” Hoseok air-quotes, noting that the kids are only in the very beginning of Frozen 2 and they have a whole hour and a half to their own devices. “And in exchange, I want to know the real reason as to why you’re looking for her, especially because you referred to me so excitedly as Hobi, and not Hoseok,” he crosses his arms, “and only my mother and sister have the right to call me that.”

You feel like a kid sent to the time-out corner, inevitably forced to fess up. It didn’t work out as well as you hoped with Namjoon, and you feared to be disappointed when Hoseok disagreed with you as well. Of course, you can’t blame them. If Hoseok came up to you and said he came from an alternate universe, you’d run for the hills.

But Hoseok is sweet and sincere, and he’s definitely not letting you go. In fact, he’s empathetic, already distressed from seeing you sweating and wringing the poor fruit snack packet.

He drags over a mini chalkboard cart, poised to take notes. “C’mon, I won’t bite.”

You frown, “Promise you won’t laugh at me until the very end?”

“Promise.”

Forty minutes later and in the turning point of Frozen 2, Hoseok has drawn up what looks like a convoluted flowchart detailing every single thing you’ve said up until this point. It reminds you of a child’s drawing, symbolizing all the dead-ends and turns of your life, but you’re sure Hoseok doesn’t want to hear that.

Within the first ten minutes of your story, Hoseok is shaking his head. “That’s crazy. C’mon, prove it. If we’re really friends in an alternate universe, how much do you know about me?”

Hoseok's face falls farther and farther into his lap as you respond with a straight face. His birthday, favorite foods, hobbies, music taste, and even feelings towards melodramatic movies are laid out in your words like a personal diary.

He crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes. “Tell a secret that you know about me.”

That stumps you. You make a face, stuffing a strawberry gummy in your mouth as you think about any conversation you could’ve possibly had with Hoseok in the past year. There’s a possibility that whatever happened to Hoseok in your world hasn’t happened in this one, but you have to at least try.

With as much confidence as you can muster you say, “When you were in the 3rd grade, your older sister was playing with sticks in your backyard and accidentally stabbed you.”

He narrows his carmine eyes, “Where?”

“Left breast,” you chirp, “under the nipple.”

Hoseok’s face twists like he’s in the 8th dimension, and he clutches his left breast comically. “You’re either psychic or telling the truth,” he marvels, nearly cracking the bud of chalk in his fingertips.

You fight the urge to sigh in relief, running a hand through your hair. You can’t believe that actually worked.

“Okay so obviously because I need to know my alter-self, what’s Jung Hoseok like in World One?”

“World One?” you snort.

“Yeah, since it’s your home world. This is World Two, because this is your second reality.” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing, waving his hands in the air.

“You’re a rapper and incredible dancer in the world’s top boy band.” and Hoseok doesn’t know whether to think you’re an impeccable actor or really telling the truth by the way you smile so tenderly. “And you managed to get your mom the barbeque restaurant she always wanted. Best place for pork belly wraps.”

And because you know he’s a softie for his mother, you already have a tissue stretched out for him, confirming that you have him convinced. Seeing it all laid out terrifies him, not because he’s scared of someone infiltrating his reality, but because you’re lost. You’re lost and you can’t go home and he can feel like he’s known you all this time. Not because you know every single fact about him under the sun, but something tells him you were meant to find him today.

“So, you got hit by a truck in World One, and end up in World Two just like that?” you nod again, and Hoseok starts to line up whatever code he’s created on the blackboard. “What were you doing before that?”

“I went drinking with my friend Sehlyung.”

“Uh-huh, and before that?”

“Got into a fight with the guy I love.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Even worse, he ended up being the first person I met once I entered your world.”

Hoseok blinks, “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Your face sours, “Impossible. Jungkook didn’t recognize me either.”

“Anything else happened that day? Perhaps something to do with the both of you? It can’t just be coincidence,” Hoseok insists, and you almost see the potential theories looming over his head.

Wishing you bought some aspirin on your way, you pinch your brows together. You’ve recollected that night one too many times that it’s been starting to overwhelm you. You hate thinking back to how harshly Jungkook rejected you. How much his words pierced you clean like you were soft and breakable. The twist in the knife was seeing him again in this world, only for him to reject you again for an entirely different reason.

“Wait,” you bite your lip, the final memory from your last conversation with Jungkook resurfacing.

“Maybe in another world, we’d work out. But not this one.”

“He said maybe we’d be together in another world,” you say slowly, the words sinking in your form like a key to a lock.

Hoseok snaps his fingers, a huge white grin beaming on his face. “Shit, this is straight out of the Twilight Zone or something. Cool!”

It’s then that the credits roll for Frozen 2, and the children are pouncing on him like leeches to a sweet treat. They laugh and beg for his attention, teasing him because he said the s-word.

“I’m sure this Jungkook kid has something to do with why you’re here—ow, Haneul! My hair is precious!” Hoseok is busy fending off kids and trying to continue your conversation. He gets up from the tiny chair to prevent them from reaching, and you follow suit. “In the meantime,” he reaches for your phone, typing something, “here’s some books Professor Song recommended to me when I was fascinated in alternate universes. Maybe they’ll help, I don’t know. But good luck, update me when you get a chance! I work here most days.”

“Thanks Hoseok,” and before you can second guess yourself, you find space between the children to wrap your arms around him. Thankfully, he doesn’t push you away, and hugs you back just as tightly. You can’t help it, and bury your face into his shoulder, trying to conceal your sobs. He even smells like World One Hoseok. You miss them.

The rest of your afternoon is spent in the library, searching for book after book regarding the supernatural and other phenomena. A little part of you hoped Hoseok would join you in your navigation, but he had a job and you had yours. He already offered you an ear and much, much more.

You feel a little stir-crazy, despite the fact that these books could contain important information, only Jungkook’s words seem to register in your brain.

“Maybe in another world, we’d work out. But not this one.”

You groan, stretching out your back so you could reach the final book out of Hoseok’s recommendations. You blush when your joints complain about your lack of exercise and sudden exertion of physical activity. This last one just so happens to be on the highest possible shelf. There’s really no need to have more than five books on supernatural phenomena, but you’re already here and it’s vermillion red cover is taunting you like a bull to its matador.

Fuck it. Making sure no librarians are watching, you hop on the first shelf, heels dangling in the air. You could climb trees like it was nothing when you’re a child, but ten years later you can feel all the joints in your body protest at the sudden bout of athleticism.

Alas, even with the added height you can barely reach the top, fingers brushing over the hardcover. You’re starting to sweat with nerves, thankful for the whirring of the icy air conditioner. With a sigh you attempt to climb on the next highest shelf, until the familiar smell of detergent and florals invades your personal space. Even his scent is the same.

“Y’know, there’s a help desk for a reason.”

Your shoulders slump as Jungkook wordlessly instructs you to get down from the shelf. You feel the warmth of his palm shadow your back, not touching you but prepared to in the event you slip and fall. With a cross of your arms, you hug your books to your chest, refusing to make eye contact as he retrieves the book for you. Call it being petty, or overly defensive because of past events, but you’re not ready to talk to Jungkook right now.

Conversely, Jungkook is piqued. He’s lived here for the past six years and it’s the first time he’s seen you in this library. Twice in the span of two weeks is definitely something worth noting, especially when his new co-worker just so happens to be friends with you.

In fact he’s excited, curious. He just entered the library, dropping off some proofs for his graduate school’s office when he spotted you in the corner of one of the shelves, determined. Something warm and light brings a smile to his face when he sees how endearing you look trying to get that too-high book. Despite the fact that he’s still on the fence about your sanity, he wants to make sure you don’t almost-die a second time from head injury.

“Here ya go,” He easily grabs the book and Jungkook is prepared to plop the book in your pile, but you’re hugging the others so tightly that he has to wedge it between two other ones.

You press your lips together as Jungkook goes into your personal space, miffed that you’re being a little defensive. After all, you’re embarrassed from the last time you saw him and you’re heart is beating wildly, confused over the man in front of you. It takes a wiggle before you concede, letting him tuck the red novel between two other larger books.

“Thanks,” you mumble, nodding at him once before swiftly turning the corner, skirt swishing.

The smile on his face is wiped clean when you don’t even bother to spare him a little eye contact.

“Hey, wait up!” he exclaims, and he’s immediately shh’ed by at least five students and an angry librarian. He deflates, giving sheepish bows as he walk-runs after you.

He feels like the tables have turned, now he’s the one chasing after you. Should he apologize for leaving you on the sidewalk two weeks ago? Should he offer to hold your books, or drive you home? Maybe not drive you home, because he brought his bike today and he fears that you may be traumatized by the fact that you almost ate pavement under his wheels. If he has to ease into it, maybe he could offer his phone number up as compensation for accidentally almost-killing you? Suggest that his number is for you to contact him as an IOU. Smooth.

You look over your shoulder briefly, suppressing a groan as Jungkook makes it painfully obvious that this is not the end of your interaction. He’s boring into you, looking past you and his eyes are dark with information. As much as you want to know what’s going on in his mind, seeing Hoseok and Jungkook within the same hour is wholly overwhelming, especially when you just laid your whole life story out to Hoseok in a daycare.

He’s now staring holes in your back as you hand over your books and work identification to the unsuspecting librarian, who chalks up your awkwardness between two friends toeing around a relationship. To the unsuspecting eye, it’s not out of the ordinary. You can’t just tell Jungkook to “kindly fuck off because I’m still processing your existence” because he’s really done nothing wrong. Inevitable, you let him heat your skin with his imploring eyes until he starts to squirm like a garden snake. He’s waiting for you, silently begging you to turn your head and acknowledge how hard his brain is working right now. This boy is always after attention.

Finally, you spare him. “Yes?” you say softly, keeping your focus on the bookkeeper checking you out as Jungkook hovers over your form.

“Uh,” he scratches his head, searching for words, “are you hurt? Y’know, from the other day?”

“Judging from the way I was prepared to climb the shelves, no,” you stuff the books in your tote bag, “are you hurt?”

“Uh, no.”

“Okay. That’s good.” You brush past him, making it a blatant point to stride out the first door you see.

Even with all the telltale signs, Jungkook continues to feel something. An urge, a bell, something. He doesn’t know what, but he’s compelled to follow you. For a small thing you sure know how to walk, and he has to pump his legs a little to catch up with your speedy form.

He follows you to the middle of the campus courtyard, where students are lounging about and studying or playing football. It’s already starting to turn dark, and the orange sky sits impatiently on your bodies as you try to walk as fast as possible to your apartment.

“Hey—hey, c’mon!” his long legs manage to get close enough to you, but he has to halt as soon as you stop, whipping around to glare at him.

Jungkook stumbles as you’re centimeters away from him, visibly annoyed. You’re super close, impossibly close to him. He holds his breath, fearing he’d fan your face and you wouldn’t appreciate his chicken-salad breath. He doesn’t understand why you’re upset, but he wants to jab a thumb between your brows and even out the adorable expression that pinches your visage.

“What, do you need something from a stranger?” you bite icily, and he doesn’t understand the pang in his chest when you refer to each other as strangers. It’s true, you are, but you don’t have to be so harsh about it.

“I, I just want to know why you knew my name,” he replies weakly, hands going up as if he committed a crime. “Back then, I’ve been confused ever since,” it’s wholly innocent, and genuine, “I just wanted to know if you’re okay, I guess?”

It’s then you soften, melting like the yolk in the sky. The strap of your bag digs in your palm, the leather probably indenting your skin.

“I got really drunk last night,” you concede, and at the very least it’s the truth, “probably woke up drunk too. I stumbled outside and when I saw you, and mistook you for another Jungkook I know.”

You’re pulling this excuse out of your ass, and you hope that someone watching you from above (or below) will give you a reprieve on this one. He seems to believe this notion, probably used to one too many drunk girls fawning over him half-sane.

“Another Jungkook?” he balks, mouth parting like a baby kitten, “a Jungkook with the same name and face?”

“Uh kinda, like Mario and Wario?” you say, and you know Jungkook will get the reference if he remains a video game lover, “what’s that called, doppelgangers?”

“I’m partial to Luigi and Waluigi, but I get it.” he replies with a small smile, proud to have gotten you to open up, even a little. “That’s cool. I’m sorry for freaking out back there.”

“Understandable,” you look at the grass crunching at your feet. You definitely understood, but it still hurt recollecting the way he pushed you off of him like a bug. “I’m sorry for mistaking you, I just kinda stumbled out of an apartment and got walking, I thought I was in a dream or something.”

“So uh, where’s this other Jungkook?” and it’s an innocent enough question, and he’s almost boyish about it, rocking back and forth with his hands in his jeans. “I’ve always wanted to meet my own twin, I just didn’t expect them living in Korea and having the same name. That’s like a two for one deal!”

You wince, avoiding the way Jungkook tries to bend down to match your eyes. “He’s uh, not around anymore. Completely gone,” you mutter.

Completely gone? Did that mean the person you were worrying about on the streets, the person who you worried over so thoughtfully in place of Jungkook, is dead?

Jungkook puffs out a breath of air, running a hand through his hair. Boy, does he feel like a piece of shit for bringing up tough memories. “I’m so sorry,” he gushes, voice cracking as he tries to get you to lift your head, “I was just being nosy, alright? The fact that you knew my name freaked me out and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And when I saw you in the library I pounced but I realize that this is such a huge mistake and—”

“Jungkook,” you hold up a hand, a twinge of a smile barely grazing your lips, “I already told you, it’s understandable you would’ve been freaked out. Don’t blame yourself,” you size him up a little, looking up and down and he automatically straightens his back. He feels his ears heat beneath his hair, “but you look like the type of guy to be too hard on himself.”

He laughs, nodding profusely, “So I’ve been told.” Feeling lighter at the assurance of your feelings, he sticks out his hand, “then can we call a truce?”

It’s then you see it.

“Tiger lilies,” you marvel, hands reaching out instinctively to touch the tattoo adorning his arm. It’s the same design, same position, the dark ink vibrant as ever.

“It’s my birth flower,” he puffs out his chest a bit, feeling elated that someone appreciates the fine art he spent weeks drafting. Tattoos aren’t particularly popular in this area, so he can’t help but feel a little cheeky that someone’s attracted to them. He watches the way your eyes sparkle over the black ink, the most positive emotion he’s gotten out of you since meeting. “Tiger lilies, they mean—”

“Please love me,” you finish, letting go of his arms so it drops to his side. You finally look up at him, and your eyes prick.

He looks so much like him, it hurts. Seeing Hoseok and Namjoon also pained you considerably, but nothing compared to how much it ached to have Jungkook around, vying for your attention. How well you knew his body, and how much you wish you could hug him. Today he’s even dressed a little similarly to how you’re used to, soft and comfortable in black sweats and a Carhartt hoodie. But this Jungkook isn’t scarred by the industry, and it fills the curiosity that plagued you for days on end. Your Jungkook is always vibrant, but the one in front of you is radiant. He’s young, eager, and ready to take on the world.

Jungkook grins, impressed by your knowledge. He wonders about your birth flower, and whether you have it tattooed somewhere on your body. “Is that your birth flower too?” he asks, debating on whether or not it’s too late to ask you out for coffee because evening is approaching. Maybe dinner was more appropriate? But it would be like a date? Maybe pizza or McDonalds to keep it casual?

You see the gears turning in his head, and you feel like you’ve wasted too much time thinking. “Ah, no,” you flounder, rapidly shaking your head, “just some random information I’ve picked up.”

“Are you into flower meanings?” he tilts his head.

“Not particularly,” you say ominously, and you try not to ache when he seems disheartened at your lack of elaboration, “but I will be. I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”

You can tell he has more to say, especially because Jungkook is one to finish what he starts. But you can’t give him that satisfaction now, not when you’re onto something. You spare him a wave over your shoulder, not wanting to see the disappointment in his face when you leave him in the dust for a second time.

And with that unpromised promise, you go back into the direction of your apartment. You have some extensive research to do tonight.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

W1.

Jungkook wakes up to the sun, and he bolts up in his bed.

“Hey!” he yells to no one in particular, knowing his voice is loud enough to echo throughout the dorm. “Why did no one call me? We had practice!”

Instead of passing out in the studio he’s wrapped up in his sheets, bundled comfortably as if he’s been in bed for hours. He’s almost disoriented, looking around the room and waiting for someone to barge in and tell him to hurry up and get somewhere.

After working on his music, the seven of them were supposed to meet up. The plan was to take a nap from ten to eleven, and be at the studio to go over some modifications to a new setlist. However, those plans evidently did not go through, because he had a full night’s sleep for the first time in weeks and that only happens if there’s a schedule cancellation or vacation.

He feels particularly antsy because he couldn’t work on anything last night. His mind was like tunnel vision, completely filled by visions of you and last night’s fight. It’s frustrating, especially when there’s so much he’s behind on already.

But today’s a new day. He takes his time in his room, popping out all his joints and doing leg and arm stretches on his mattress. For once, no one’s ushering him away to do the nth task. He mindlessly scrolls his phone, taking note of the insistence for him to return to social media but pins it away for yet another promise of next time.

Mindlessly clicking his phone button on and off, his wallpaper shows a picture of your back facing the sunset. An old, innocent picture that could be mistaken for a random shot Jungkook stole on an empty night in Dongdaemun. With a sigh he throws his phone somewhere between the sheets, rubbing his eyes. There’s nothing he can do now but move forward, and he takes that in stride.

But when he walks out of his room, the air feels terse. It’s strange, as if he could cut through the tension in the room with a butterknife.

He looks on in confusion to see all the other members settled in the living room, hovered over their phones. They’re all still in their clothes from last night as well, grave expressions on their faces.

Someone’s choked sobs are echoing from a corner of the room, and Jungkook is worried when he sees Taehyung sobbing in Hoseok’s arms.

“What happened?” he asks, brows knitting together as he walks over to Namjoon, looking over his phone.

Namjoon immediately presses his phone to his chest, concealing whatever is on the screen. Jungkook’s heart pangs at his block, because Namjoon isn’t one to hide things. He’s feeling cut out of a secret so deep that it must be either a secret, or something he shouldn’t see. “It’s,” he takes a deep breath, and Jungkook feels it. He feels that whatever Namjoon has to say is going to be hard.

Seokjin speaks up for the leader, bright eyes that always spark like fireworks now dim. “We got a call from Sehlyung early this morning. Before it got light out she—she was frantic. She said Camille wasn’t answering her calls after they went drinking.”

No. No.

“Then BigHit got a call from the hospital. They said a truck hit the curb, knocking her clean,” it doesn’t even sound like Seokjin’s speaking, just the shell of him, regurgitating information. “She’s alive, but it’s critical, no one’s allowed to see her until she’s stable. We don’t know when,” Seokjin bites his lip, choosing his words carefully, “or if, she’ll wake up.”

Jungkook doesn’t even register that he’s crying until Seokjin pulls him into his arms.

#jungkook fic #bts fic #goldenclosetnet #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios

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windblooms · 3 years

Text

matchups.

hihi :’) way overdue – but here are the matchup requests that i received. please check for yours below if it was sent in! ctrl+f on desktop for your mbti/zodiac, or something you remember adding in if the post is too long to scroll through.

Hello! I'm INFP and 98% Type 4 & 92% Type 9. I'm a sun Pisces & moon Aquarius. I'm fairly introverted but can be kinda silly if I'm trying to be social. I'm also empathetic & sympathetic with plenty of self-confidence issues. My main hobbies are playing games, looking into social issues, thinking about game characters,etc. I keep bouncing between visions but Geo might be fitting since current Geo characters are a little more on the introverted side. Not sure if I'm late but wanted to try <3 I'm the INFP Pisces & Aquarius Geo asker and forget to mention that I'd like 1 platonic and 1 romantic!

romantic match-up: kaeya.

although it might be odd at first to pair him with a sensitive and introverted soul such as yourself, on the contrary, kaeya won’t have any issues relating to your emotional nature, even if outwardly it doesn’t seem so (behind his light-hearted and diplomatic dialogue, he’s got a transactional relationship with the knights he’s “loyal” to; his own brother is distasteful towards him; and he’s got an agenda that goes against everything he currently lives with.) he’ll get a knack out of teasing you when the mood is fitting, and while he may not be the one to give you the best of pep-talks, his self-assured disposition does have its uses: confident words soothe over the creases of your worries and troubling thoughts, and when things are more light-hearted, the two of you will bounce off of each others’ playful mannerism.

platonic match-up: barbara.

barbara is a sweetheart who’s incredibly devoted to both her companions and her aspirations. wholesome and energetic, she’s sure to keep you on your toes dancing, whether it be about how beautiful it is outside or the potential of a rainbow after a storm. while she’s a clear extrovert, barbara is also insightful to the feelings of others – after all, an idol must understand her crowd! – so she’s sure to dial down the energy if you’re ever feeling weary that day.

hihi !! can i please submit myself for the matchups ? i'm intp-t, scorpio sun and leo moon. i'm 5'11, female, and am described to be a very energetic person. i like to think optimistically and have a special love for philosophy and chemistry !! my hobbies include reading and writing - i've also recently picked up baking. i think i would have a hydro vision in genshin - hydro users tend to be healers, and i think that's something i would specialize in. can i please have 2 romantic matchups 🥺

i'm the scorpio sun leo moon intp matchup ask !! i forgot to mention that my enneagram type is seven, sorry 😔

romantic match-ups: childe/tartaglia and jean.

childe hyperfixates on individuals he deems strong. while this usually translates into people who have experience on the battle field, in your case, he finds it admirable that you’re able to keep up with so many hobbies and interests. your thirst for new experiences and stimuli is akin to his own sense of adventure, and your devotion to each and every one of them resonates with his own conviction to his aspirations. you’re strong mentally, and when you interact, he always has to dedicate himself to you fully in order to keep up; there’s never a dull moment when you’re around him.

a workaholic in denial, jean’s position as acting grand master never gives her a break. she’ll insist that she’s fine, that she’s content with her oversight of the knights, that they are her priority. and while this is true, when you talk about how your interests range from chemistry to baking, it’ll remind her of the time she doesn’t have to do “normal people things.” again, not that she’s miserable with the knights, far from it – it’s just that your life and spontaneity reminds her of the things outside of the knights that she wishes she could do, too. your genuine energy never fails to make her smile – perhaps you were who she’s been waiting for.

hi, congrats on the 1k followers! i really enjoy your writing and i’m glad to see that you’re doing well! i hope the rest of 2021 goes well for you!

for the matchup event, i’d like one platonic and one romantic relationship. i'm an infp, 6w5, scorpio sun and virgo moon. my attention span isn’t the best and i’m an impulsive dumbass, but i still manage to get good grades somehow. i try to be sociable, but i have a habit of clamming up so i usually just end up sticking to the people i know. i’m kinda all or nothing with the effort i put into things; i run out of steam pretty easily so i tend to leave things unfinished, which i hate, but sometimes i’ll go wild and finish a semester-long project in one afternoon. overall, i really like helping others and being seen as reliable! i was really dependent on others in the past, and although i still kinda am now, i’m trying to be someone others can depend on.

as for hobbies, i mostly just play video games and scary stories. i’m also into a lot of crafts, particularly knitting and bracelet-making. i find the motions relaxing, but i enjoy it the most when i have someone to make things for.

as for my vision, i think hydro suits me best because it seems more support-oriented overall, which is the kind of role i’d like to have. however, that doesn’t mean that it can’t be used to do some serious damage if needed.

has lots of energy that’s hard to direct, but can plow through things they set their mind to. likes security of things they know, and wants to give security as well. creative outlets. seems a bit finicky? but insightful with their own emotions.

romantic match-up: mona.

outwardly stubborn but inwardly self-critical, mona has dedicated her entire life to the stars, and it shows: her masterful grip on astrology is nothing to scoff at, and she’s arguably the most practiced mage in all of teyvat. at first, she’ll be baffled at your impulsiveness and “lack of focus”: how will you ever get anything done? she’ll wonder. but when you prove her time and time again that you can plow right through an obstacle just like scissors through paper, so long as it seizes your interest, she’ll take moments to think about her own outlook on life. when she realizes your comfort in abstract, artistic past-times, she might ask cutely for you to teach her. surely, if she can talk to the stars, she can make bracelets . . . ? o-of course they’d be for you! who else would they be for, if not someone she deems endearing.

platonic match-up: beidou.

the personification of a tidal wave, beidou’s ferocity hits hard and leaves a mark. the two of you will find it easy to bounce off of each others’ ideas – maybe even concerningly so to the rest of the crew – and hell, she might even sway you to sneak into a hilichurl village to steal some carrots if it’ll provide for some overdue fun. lots of pats slaps on the back, and she’ll always beckon you over when she learns about something new, thinking that you might find it interesting, and when she wants someone else’s input. she trusts your judgement like family, and knows that you’ve always got her.

hi! i would like to request a genshin character matchup (2 romantic). my mbti is infj and enneagram 2. i am a cancer sun and aries moon. i am calm and reliable, but i do have a mischievous side and use a lot of dry humor. when it comes to having fun, i like to enable others! i am also deeply passionate about community service. my hobbies include yarn crafting. my genshin vision would be cryo because i am highly motivated by love/emotion, can come off as cold, and love the ice aesthetic! tysm!

romantic match-ups: diluc and lisa.

often broody and contemplative, diluc has a whirlwind of thoughts in that hard head of his. through your first interactions, he’ll piece together your intense devotion towards your loved ones and willingness to help others. he’ll warn you that you should take time to consider yourself, too, and that it shouldn’t always be give, give, give, but those same traits in you that he worries about are the same qualities that draw him in. once, too, he was as uninhibited as you, had the same energy. perhaps it’s because you’re both so similar, both in internal hopes and mannerisms, is why he finds it easier to loosen up – even if he doesn’t immediately let go of that deadpan attitude of his when he knows you can come back just as hard.

she’s enthralled by your willingness to engage in her banter. often, those she teases (flirtatiously or otherwise) leave with a red face and an adorable stutter, but it just so happens that you’re one to fluster her instead. it’s been a long time since she’s met someone who can keep her guessing, yet is incredibly insightful to themselves and those around them. she finds your qualities of fun and sincerity to be charming. you’re a breath of fresh air compared to the stern knights she’s around all day, and she looks forward to meeting you after work, conversing with you as you walk down mondstadtian streets and eat over dinner. there’s never a dull quip from your lips, and she’d love to hear everything on your mind.

hii hope I'm not making this too hard on u lol one romantic and one platonic please! either gender is fine I'm bi as Hecc mbti: enfp-t sun taurus moon aries I think my vision would be cryo because people say it's connected to loss and I've lost some pretty important people to me and also. I hate the heat I really like cards, wolves and the stars, my hobbies include working with robots and the general aesthetic of the mid 2000s, my favorite season is winter and I love buying ppl gifts ♡

platonic match-up: chongyun.

immediately, your avoidance of heat and affinity to the calm will give him someone to relate to, and your attraction to the abstract will pique his interests. (perhaps, once he’s become more confident with his exorcist abilities, he could pick up some of your hobbies?) your practicality, in contrast to his often self-critical mindset, will ground him in times of need, and he’ll always ask you if he can help you out in return. while he looks up to you as an individual, he’s honored to also be your friend, or at least someone you devote time to.

romantic-matchup: ningguang.

you both understand sacrifices and loss. while it’s a rather bleak realization upon getting to know each other, your rationality and perseverance despite the past stirs her respect for you; your mindsets are incredibly alike, and she’ll often input your reasoning into her plans, and deem you a trusted associate of the liyue qixing. in her demanding position, you are someone she can readily relate to and rely on. in times when things are less hectic and the two of you can more freely relax, she’ll indulge in a shopping spree with you. as someone who’s intimate with her in both profession and emotional relations, she’d love to show her gratitude.

hi! i'd like to participate on the match up event!

i'm an infp, and also type six on the enneagram test, my sun sign is aries and my moon sign is pisces. i like arts in general with my favourite ones being music and painting, but i also enjoy writing and i spend a lot of time songwriting! also as a person i'm rlly clumsy and i kind of look mean bc of my resting bitch face lol. i think my vision would be anemo because i think it can be really useful in many ways and i like the reactions it has with other visions. i'd like two romantic match ups! i hope this was understandeable, as my english isn't the best. thank you! 💌

romantic-matchups: mona and zhongli.

mona will find your interest in the arts intriguing. you always seem to get ideas at the most random of times, often startling her with how active your mind is. and despite how she doesn’t reply much in return – she’s not versed in words or drawings, even if she won’t verbally admit it – you seem to be satisfied with her . . . reactions? even if the most she can relate them to is astrology, it seems to be enough for you, so long as she isn’t uptight that day. your creativity and attraction to the abstract gives her comfort: there aren’t many people in mondstadt who appreciate her profession, so even if you aren’t into the exact same things, she’ll at least know that there’s someone who looks forward to seeing her.

on his quest to “learn what being a human” is, zhongli encounters a myriad of occupations. typically, the people of liyue are wound up with economics and realism, but your joy in the possibilities – how you can convey your emotions, through what mediums – of life has to offer reminds him of humanity. with you, he’ll explore what mortals call “the small things” in life: akin to the spark of appreciation for flying lanterns, autumn-colored lights at night, feelings of wonder – that’s what you instill in him.

hello!! id like a matchup please!! im an INTP-T and im Type 5,, im capricorn sun and libra moon. im a reserved person and kind of angry all the time,, and i get overwhelmed easily. im not that good with affection,, but me actually welcoming you into conversation or my room or smthn, or actually responding to you means something. im just scared to be open with affection because its always done me wrong in the past. anyways,, id like a platonic matchup and romantic matchup please!! thank u and congrats!!🥳🥳❤️❤️

hello,, im that Capricorn sun libra moon anon,,, very sorry to disturb you,,, but i didn’t mention what my vision would be!! i think id be pyro,, ive always been a bit cold or i usually shun people away,, so i think id be cryo!!!! or maybe hydro because im constantly having a mental breakdown LMAO(but i fr think id be cryo)

platonic match-up: sucrose.

while she’s constantly on-edge from work, sucrose will always make time to check on her dear friend. after all, you do the same for her, even if you insist that you might not have the right words ready. “partners in stress,” kaeya would teasingly dub the two of you as, but you don’t pay mind to him. as quiet and reserved individuals, you find tranquility within each others’ company.

romantic match-up: venti.

whimsical and regarded as a mere bard by most, venti puts up a convincing front. but it’s just that: a front. the real venti is concealed by a chipper voice and mercurial agenda, when underneath, there’s a solemn musician who’s burdened. you’ll most likely be off-put by his facade, as he’s trained himself to constantly be lively – comes with being a performer – but will soon find that he understands your turmoil. he’s not the best with sentimental words, but will instead convey his sympathies through strums of his lyre. while it isn’t obvious that there’s security in freedom, he’ll be sure to encourage you that there’s a way.

Hello Al! For the match-up event would it be possible for me to ask for 1 romantic and 1 platonic? As for my MBTI I am an INFJ-T. As for the ennseagram I am 98% type five and 90% type 6. I am a Taurus sun and an Aquarius moon. I tend to come off as polite and often times a bit shy/reserved irl. I love learning new things. Conversations that have all parties thinking critically are definitely my favorites. My hobbies are writing, drawing, learning new things, reading, and playing video games. As for Genshin vision I'd have to say cryo. I've taken a quiz on quotev and got a tie between cryo and anemo. Cryo's description seemed to fit my personality better. I also seem to have a connection with the cold. Let me know if you need any more info. Remember to take care of yourself. ~Taylor💙

platonic match-up: albedo.

you both have your inquisitive sides, and albedo is more than willing to talk to you about his discoveries. while he might not proactively reach out to you – more like, if you’re nearby, and he happens to catch you peeping at his work, he’ll engage with you. he finds your takes thought-provoking and your candor respectful; a fellow of agreeable disposition, your calmness and supplementing nature also makes it easy for him to work.

romantic match-up: zhongli.

both intuitive and practical in your approaches, zhongli’s given a new perspective when you converse, or at least, a new thing to ponder over. many regard him as stiff besides his gentlemanly disposition; your focused and insistent care will enrapture him as heartwarming, that there are “acceptable” vulnerabilities, but they’re not weak points at all – far from it. your security and assuredness is harmonious with your emotion insight, making for a stable lifestyle that he easily molds into. the conversations that the two of you engage in are nothing short of provocative. just as much as he learns from you, he also provides with tales of the old days.

Is - is the matchup thing still relevant? If not you can just ignore this message - its ok, i know ur busy :)

If it is still on tho, i wonder if i could get a platonic and romantic one?

Im a INFP-T(??), Type 4, pisces sun sag moon.

Im a dumb nerd with big glasses who loves t shirts with puns ot jokes on it. Im not sure about my hobbies, i just like anything that can make me think - memes, books, music, games with lore. I dont like boring, overly normal stuff. I have shitty sense of direction and i suck at math.

I think that my vision would be anemo since thats (i think) an element that requires both creativity and knowledge to work with, which is very special and interesting to me.

Thank you so much in advance! Or sorry if i sent this too late 😅

platonic match-up: xinyan.

both of you are free-flowing and seek excitement. you’re the gasoline to xinyan’s match: you both feed off of each others’ knack for new things, stimuli, and the bold. you could be walking down the streets of liyue, eating bags of mora meat, and then suddenly run down to the northern wharf to catch passing boats and playfully debate over which snobby aristocrat is being shipped off. there’s never a dull moment between the two of you, and the plan is always no plan. spontaneity is the name of the game, and it’s one that you can go at for ages.

romantic match-up: beidou.

there’s hardly a moment to breathe on the crux fleet, that’s for sure. be prepared to explore the entirety of teyvat with beidou, because she’s got you covered with all of your “new thing” needs, alongside your ocean-borne family. she’ll find it humorous that you’re not practiced in navigation – ironic for a seafarer. but steering is complex, and she’d gladly help you out in learning, just another thing to do in a day’s work.

Hi! For the match up event, I'm 98% type 3 and a 97% type 7, I'm am Intp and my moon sign is scorpio, my sun sign is Pisces. I'm above than average in math and I like to draw from time to time, I've tried to learn the ukelele but ultimately failed. I'd like my vision to be an electro cause my fav color is purple and I like how the electricity sparks and stops my enemies, I'm also a fan fic writer and love manhwas

Hi! I'm the last anon that you reminded that should have put 2 romantic in the ask! Sorry about that, it just completely flew over my head

romantic match-ups: ningguang and childe/tartaglia.

your ambition knows no bounds, and your drive is a force to be reckoned with. some may call your approaches headstrong, but your ability to take initiative is something that ningguang greatly admires. it’s something she professes that you two have in common – granted, even if her economic tendencies are more cutthroat. while the two of you have incredibly firm opinions that might send shocks across the room you’re debating in, ningguang trusts your rational thought and explorative mindset. your like-mindedness, in this instance, brings great relief to her in her position.

childe is also someone who would take interest in you. he’s not one for schemes like the rest of the harbingers, and would appreciate your straightforward approaches and the focused energy you put into each project/obstacle you face. it makes it easier for him to speak his mind, and he’ll find comradery with you fairly easy to come by. gradually, the zeal the two of you share can draw you into more adventures, and he’ll have someone he can call a trustworthy partner.

Hello! For your generous match-up event, could I request two romantic matches please? My MBTI type is INFP and my enneagram type is four. My sun sign is Aries and my moon is Gemini. I am a quiet but curious person who can be really flirty and sarcastic in private. I am very caring to those I love. My hobbies including writing and drawing. For my vision, I think I would be cryo? I’m a secretive person who has trust issues and can be cruel. I love your blog, you’re so skilled! Thank you so much!

romantic match-ups: kaeya and jean.

you’re a trusted soul by all, even if many also regard you as reserved. kaeya isn’t one to grow attached (it’s hindered him in the past), however after being paired with you on multiple missions, he’ll feel more at ease around you due to your good nature. your duality is also a breath of fresh air, and each time he talks to you afterwards, he’s reminded that there are individuals who have others’ best interests at heart. many knights will catch the two of you tossing jokes back and forth at each other, but for once, kaeya isn’t trying to swindle anybody.

the acting grand master has a lot on her plate, but she finds that when she’s in your company, the tray is a little lighter. she relates to your sincerity and good intentions, a welcome refresher in the world of forced diplomacy and tedious hours. you also seem to know just the right things to say to lighten the mood, with a cute smile to top it all off.

hello! Could I request 2 romantic match-up? I'm ENFP, enneagram 2w3. Sun Sagittarius, Moon Scorpio, Asc. Virgo. My hobbies consist of anything generally creative, gaming/anime, hanging out with friends esp!! I'm the type of person to show affection by physical touch and by gentle ribbing-- I love making other people laugh. I'm always down to do things, new or not, and an honest and easy-going person. My Vision would be Geo bc I think it reflects how I am as a person-- stable n loyal :) thank u!!

romantic match-ups: venti and beidou.

no one would’ve thought that you and venti would be a pair – then again, when they consider your tendencies for jokes and charisma, it’ll all come together. wherever the two of you go, laughter follows, like dandelions in the breeze. venti hits it off with you almost immediately after you meet, your natural social nature enabling easy conversation. you’re also very zealous with topics that pique your interest. it’s a genuine, eager curiosity that he can’t help but consider endearing.

the two of you are always searching for new things, be it small islands in the horizon or neat little specialties that you manage to catch in the corner of your eye. there’s never a dull moment when the two of you get going on ideas, and while you may be the more rational, beidou will always insist on adding some more “zest” into whatever you come up with. if you push her, she might accidentally shove you off the boat with the playful enthusiasm of a golden retriever.

Hiya~! Thank you both for doing this! For the character match-up, I'd like to request two (2) Romantic please lmao, with a side of French fries.

I'm an INFP, Libra sun/Scorpio moon. My external personality might lead ppl to think I'm a charismatic extrovert, but that's the face I show for the 5 whole minutes I'm socializing, and then return to my introvert turtle shell for the next week. I cycle through hobbies since I get bored quickly, but I always come back to music since singing is my passion. I know for sure my Vision would be Anemo bc I need to be free to feel comfortable and tend to react rather aggressively when I feel restrained 🤔

I'm deeply emotional, sometimes impulsive, and dislike relying on others. I tend to be cat-like in my affections... sometimes I Love, other times Do Not Want. Except for animals, they always get my love ❤ ehehe....

romantic match-ups: mona and kaeya.

mona considers your nature incredibly easy to grasp. but don’t take it as an insult or offense – in fact, your simplicity is a constant in mona’s life: you like time to yourself, and when you’re alone is when your energy comes out. she doesn’t have to worry about reading too much into your feelings when she can see that you’re independent. your interactions are calm and reassuring; she doesn’t have to be uptight around you, because she knows you trust in her abilities and lifestyle, and security with herself and those she cares about is her top priority.

kaeya’s able to relate to your social tendencies. there’s a front that he puts up in front of his colleagues (purely for professional purposes) before reverting back to his natural state of mind. he finds your distance understandable, and considers it something the two of you have in common. when you talk one-on-one, it’s easy to bounce ideas off of each other about mondstadtian culture and other topics of interest; while your independent natures may lead to some time apart, there will always be fresh experiences waiting when you do meet again.

#matchup reqs

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ghirahims-trophyhusband · 3 years

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📌 🔮 📝 for the platober asks for your pick!! id love to hear abt any of your platonic f/os

✨ PLATOBER ✨ PLATONIC F/O ASKS - WEEK #1 🍬

I was so torn on if I should do Grigori or Vaati for this, so I just caved and decided to do them both!

📌 How soon and why did you decide to make them an f/o?

Grigori - Before I had even completed Dragon's Dogma, I had assigned Grigori as my main Familial F/O because of how much I adored his character!

For the world he lives in, which is pretty dystopian specifically for himself, the Arisen, and even the Seneschal, Grigori continues to be very strong as a person despite everything. He's perhaps somewhat jaded, but not completely. This is especially evident when he starts to praise the Arisen as the two duke it out for the first and last time during his boss fight, after mocking/belittling them in previous scenes with a clear edge to his voice. He hasn't completely lost himself to despair like others may have before him.

It's that strength and willpower I admire most about Grigori, making him someone I look up to with a lot of admiration :>

(Plus he has so many fantastic quotes!! I tend to repeat the same ones over and over but shoutout to ones like "The hour for turning back is past. The world will have its answer: you or me? Death, or life beyond?" and "Your life belongs now to no other. You've won it by rights... It is yours to use or cast away as you see fit. Remember that...". They are all so great to listen to ingame!)

Vaati - Vaati is definitely one of my oldest Familial F/O's, being only JUST beaten by my dads Draco and Bowen from Dragonheart. Technically he could be my main Familial, but tbh being comforted by your twin brother versus your uncle and father figure have very different weights to them ghdfkjg.

I don't know when I decided to make him an F/O exactly, but I'd argue it would have been around the same time as when I started F/Oing Ghirahim! So, Vaati has been my brother for about 10 years or so (I don't mention it much, but I do strongly associate Vaati and Ghirahim to each other (in the sense that I tend to insert Vaati into something Ghirahim is part of and vice versa because it just feels right)).

As for why I decided to make him an F/O, he just RADIATES little shit twin vibes LMAO. There's something about the way he acts that says to me 'this is a young man who is just starting out as a villain. He knows how to intimidate perhaps, but not how to ACT like a villain'. Which I gleefully mock in the manga because he swaps back and forth from being cold and stoic to HAHA EVERYTHING IS GOING EXACTLY AS PLANNED and it's so funny to see ghdfjkg I adore it so much. He has a general idea of being a villain, just not specifics.

📝 Does your s/i’s presence in the source change your f/o’s story, and if so, how?

Grigori - My stories with Grigori are all AUs so I can’t answer in the context of it being in the world of Dragon’s Dogma, but I can answer for my Genshin AU and my Crossover AU!

In my Genshin AU, Dire (my S/I) is a very positive presence in Grigori’s life and allows him to be able to feel human again, as well as be respected and treated as an equal, rather than as a frightening, otherworldly entity that some believe will bring about the end of the world. Plus, he gets to live his life AS a human again, which he naturally enjoys most of all.

In my Crossover AU, Nowa (my S/I) is also a very positive presence in Grigori’s life! To the point he will gladly put time aside in his day so he can spend it with his nephew~ The two are very close and have a very strong relationship Grigori holds very dear to him. If things were to turn sour, Nowa will typically turn to Grigori for help and advice first, especially since he’s the best to turn to if a fight breaks out between the other characters in my Crossover AU.

Vaati - Much like Grigori, I don’t S/I into the world of Minish Cap/Four Swords but instead into AUs.

In my Spa AU, Ezra (my S/I) is about as chaotic as Vaati is, so they just enable each other hgkjgd. The entire AU exists for fun so it’s not as serious as Grigori’s stories, so I don’t have as much to say, but I do like to think Ezra (despite being as chaotic as Vaati) does act as a moral compass to Vaati and will tell him when to stop if he starts pushing it and is being too cruel to others.

🔮 Would you rather bring your platonic f/o into this universe or travel into their source?

Grigori I love you dearly and so very, very much. But the universe of Dragon’s Dogma scares me on multiple levels ghdkjgjdf. Do I need to detail how unsettling it is when i kill Evil Eyes and the Gazer boss? No thanks.

(Although if I could be safe with Grigori specifically then I don’t think I’d mind too much)

As for Vaati, I wouldn’t mind if I was suddenly in the world of Zelda because those games aren’t as sad as Dragon’s Dogma (unless it’s the world of Link’s Awakening, then I want out ghdkg). Also I could be a minish alongside Vaati as well lmao.

#grigori #cc #vaati #loz #mc #dd #platober 2021 #ask

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radramblog · 3 years

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Rating the letters of the alphabet

I feel like part of my style of comedy is just rambling about shit and making loose connections between things as part of an overall bit. I think. I’m no expert on myself, unfortunately.

The inspiration for the following absolute load of shite is trying to search Tiermaker for nothing. Like, no characters in the search bar. Didn’t come up with anything. Did a search for just a space. No dice. What about just a? Surely that’ll bring up everything with an A in the title. But it didn’t, and I was somewhat disappointed.

Then my head started writing bits about letters and that’s how we got here. This is probably really stupid, but maybe it’ll at least be fun. Wordplay is cool, though maybe not my strong suit? Anyway.

A: A is one of the two letters that’s also just a word, as you’ve just seen, giving it a necessary promotion in rank. Not a lot of things get to double up like that, though with the “an” ligature maybe it’s actually a double or nothing. But because of the confusing common connection crossing contexts for the character, it gets somewhat awkward to talk about the letter in conversation. An A, in my opinion, A does not get. 4/5.

B: B is also just a word letter but unlike A when you write it out you have to stick a few extra letters on to make it work, making it not as good. But B’s association with bees isn’t enough, because in the year of our lord, like, 2019 or something, it would become inextrixably linked with shite memes as the B emoji became king. And I just don’t respect that. It’s otherwise a fine letter, dragged down by its company. 2/5.

C: Oh come on now, the word doesn’t even have a C in it anymore! You can sea the see without any of our tertiary letter’s involvement whatsoever. Not to mention how its two main sounds are just copies from other letters wholesale. C must be confusing to non-english speakers, I’d imagine. C as a grade gets what C as a grade typically entails for many a schoolchild. 3/5.

D: It would be remiss of me not to give a sterling grade to the D. Why, none of us would be here without it. While many a youth may find the D to be quite a humourous subject, I assure you I’m taking it with the gravest of sincerity when I say the D has got to be one of the best letters of all.

And by D I mean deity, of course. Wait, what did you think I meant? 5/5.

E: The absolute absurdity that is the E meme elevates E efficiently enough to excel beyond many another vowel. However, it is also the single most common letter in the English language, going so far as to open the damn name. It’s to the point where someone made a point of writing an entire book without using it, and I think Gadsby is cool but mayhaps avoiding fifth uncial was a bit showy. I can’t help but mark it down for the sake of hipster cred. 3/5.

F: F is for Fuck. I like the word Fuck. F is for paying respects. I think the military-industrial complex has poisoned our cultural landscape to the point that a reference to one of its most prized productions’ awkward moments has become one of the most colloquially used meme letters in existence, And That’s Terrible. 3/5, I’m conflicted.

G: Man literally who the fuck cares about G. What is it even good for. Just an absolute waste of a letter, total shithouse. It’s NATO equivalent is Golf, the Worst Sport, too. Who asked for any of this? Just use a J instead, it’s cooler. 1/5.

H: I’ve seen “Hhh” used enough times in written forms of pornography to not consider it a Horny Letter. That and it, being short for Hentai, is often used to denote adult material in Japan. Basically what im saying is, I think this gets worse the less sex-positive you are. 6/9.

I: I think I’ve said enough about letter words already, but I is another high-tier one because like A I is just it’s own thing. It can also, however, be a bit confusing, looking just like an l a lot of the time, and having to constantly capitalise it is a pain in the ass. I also don’t have a particularly high opinion of myself, so a high opinion of I seems disingenuous. 3/5.

J: Clearly the best letter, hands down. I’m definitely not biased. There are so few letters as underappreciated by J- a fact many a person who’s had to do that “assign yourself an alliterative adjective” icebreaker game has had to reckon with. Because it appears to be a lot more popular with names than with words, and that just kind of sucks. 6/5.

K: K has in some circles managed to bump off its partner to become yet another letter word, though in a very informal abbreviated sense. However, when you’re looking into scientific fields, eventually said partner returns, having lost some weight on the trip down to absolute zero. This all makes complete sense in my head, and I’m sure is a lot less funny to anyone who doesn’t live there. 4/5.

L: I’d argue that L doesn’t cop its namesake. It’s a really useful letter, loads of words use it, especially in pairs, and my ADHD-brain thought it was fun to just say LLLLLLLLLLL for a bit while I was thinking about this so I guess that’s staying in now. Put me down as an L Lobbyist. 4/5.

M: Mmmmmm. M&Ms. But also it’s kind of a pain to write. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. 3/5.

N: I’d like to fight whoever decided we should have two letters that sound so similar right bloody next to each other in the alphabet. Actually, who the fuck even decided the alphabet’s order to begin with? Maybe it should go M to N, that’ll bloody show you. 2/5.

O: Our fourth vowel, and perhaps one of the underappreciated ones. O is similarly a letter word, but a much more common one considering its use as an interjection. It’s also one half of a very powerful letter combo, as we’ll see. 4/5.

P: There’s the other half. Many a joke involves OP as a phrase, whether it mean overpowered or original poster, and the letters’ adjacency is a lovely bit of serendipity. Whenever I say P out loud, on its own, I have to resist the urge to do some incredibly shitty beatboxing, which may or may not be a good sign. 4/5.

Q: I was going to write some very harsh words about Q, and its dependency on U, but then I realised that that is probably hate speech against the disabled. It still sucks, though. 0/5.

R: R is the one I am most struggling to think of things to say about. R is another letter that’s just kinda there. I’m sure the Roberts and Rachels of the world would disagree with me, though. It’s also the name of a program that I know has traumatised a lot of young biologist wannabes, slapping us with a whole pile of maths and statistics when we just wanted to look at cool plants and shit. Or in my case, cool cells and shit. 2/5.

S: The most overrated consonant, but also the thing that makes plurals not a pain in the ass. However I’m going to lean towards giving S a positive rating, if only because it’s associated with snakesssss (and serpentine characters who can talk) and I like those. 3/5.

T: I don’t think T gets enough credit as one of the pillars of the English language. A lot of very common words feature it, and yet it feels like it never gets the same level of credit as big shots like S or half of the vowels. T is like the character actor of the alphabet, is basically what I’m saying. 4/5.

U: Ah, the letter Americans hate for some reason. I think this is actually commentary on the history of American politics. Because throughout history, America has been extremely selfish and self-centered, while attempting to present a positive image that people are finally seeing past. They only entered WWI and WWII when it was convenient for them, they started wars and initiated coups in even their allies for petty ideological reasons, and they’ve gone to war with several countries and funded wars with several others seeming just for shits and giggles. Because apparently if you’re not an American, then you’re not one of them, and that means they hate U. 4/5.

V: I actually think V is underrated. It’s a fun sound. That’s it, no joke here. It’s neat, I like it. 4/5.

W: This may come as a shock to you, but double-u over here is actually two Vs! unless you’re writing in cursive, but fuck cursive. The French actually have it right on this one, naming it double-v (pronounced doobleh-vay). Add in the fact that it’s literally just M upside down, and you’ve got a pretty shite letter. 1/5.

X: There’s a reason literally every “A is for Apple” thing you see made for kids uses Xylophone for X, and that’s because there are no commonly used words that start with it. Seriously, it’s all just scientific terms- I’d argue X-Ray is more common than Xylophone in common parlance, but also, who wants to explain imaging to a kid. It doesn’t even get a second page of words on Dictionary.com. X also has implications as a letter word, that I’d rather avoid at the moment. 2/5.

Y: Ah, Ygreck, everyone’s favourite “what the fuck, France?” moment. Between that and being sorta kinda not really a vowel, Y prompts its own question more often than I’d care to admit. 2/5.

Z: As a (technical) member of the generation associated with this letter- on the one hand, I’m sorry, on the other, y’all have it coming. The final letter of the alphabet, one of the other ones worth 10 in scrabble (and yet X isn’t???), and one we probably got pretty sick of in the early 00s when it was everywhere- ironically, when most of the generation was getting born. 2/5.

And that’s the lot of them. I hope this didn’t alienate any non-English speakers too hard. It’s probably fine.

Join me for more bullshit next time I have another stupid idea. I mean, tomorrow.

#ramble #nonce shit tbh #remember when I made good content? yeah me neither

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allforhader · 4 years

Text

Things Change, But Not My Love For You

Barry Berkman x (F) Reader

Warnings: Langauge, Injury

“Barry?” Y/N calls out when she heard the front door open. She caught a confused look from her husband when he entered their bedroom. “What?”

“What are you doing home?”

“I had the day o—“

“Wait if you had the day off today than what was Monday? You should’ve told me and I would’ve spent time with you...” Barry drops his backpack before sitting on his side of the bed looking at her. “You could’ve told me before-“

“Barry. I had the rest of the day off...”

“Oh...you got let out early? Why? Usually from Greys they’d die to have more scrub nurses in—“

“Barry I’ve told you countless times. Grey’s isn’t the greatest depiction. Thought I said this when you thought I’d go for a neurosurgeon”

“Well that Derek guy can pop up out of no where he did in Greys—besides the point. You should’ve told me...but why were you given the rest of the day? Did something happen?” Barry frowns as Y/N knew he was going to worry before she got to her main point but it’s best to say everything.

“I was on a case, and before the surgery was over I collapsed in the OR—“

“Y/N YOU WHAT—Okay what’s wrong?? What did they find?! Did you hit your head” Barry kept asking all these questions and checking every inch of Y/N as she kept pushing away his hands. “Y/N Why didn’t you call me? Who drove you home? Because your car isn’t here”

“My friend from work drove me home and I didn’t want you to drop everything just to come and get me” Y/N frowns as Barry gave her an annoyed look before bringing her into his arms.

“I would drop everything for you, because you’re my wife. Please tell me they checked you out before you went home” Barry frowns holding her as Y/N pulls away from him for a second.

“Barry, I’m pregnant...”

“You’re going to be home a lot more. I won’t be here 24/7 and I would...only be worrying about you instead of landing auditions and fuck still doing what I used to do...You’re going to be alone for a good portion of the day when you get put on leave and I don’t want you getting hurt by anybody” Barry paces the living room as Y/N frowns wishing he’d just sit down with her before she had to get ready for work.

“Barry...you’re stressing yourself out thinking too ahead like that. I love you, but you don’t have to think that far” Y/N frowns getting up from the couch to go get ready. “We can move. If you’re really worried”

“As much as I want to pack up everything and take you out of here. You worked hard to get where you’re at. I can’t ask you to drop all of that” Barry frowns staying by the door watching Y/N grab her scrubs from the dresser before taking one of his long sleeve’s.

“You have no idea how easy it is to transfer. If I got fired that’s a different story...but I’m just telling you. Dropping everything and moving. Won’t be difficult when it comes to my career” Y/N states taking a minute sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m getting tired thinking about it”

Barry knelt down in front of her resting his hands on her knees as Y/N sets her clothes down taking his hands into hers.

“I just want you and the baby to be safe”

“I know Barry, I know”

“Would you be fine taking on the night shifts again? We just lost Amber” the chief nurse Taylor asks Y/N as she had just got done settling one of her patients in the ICU. Her last patient of the day.

“Are you asking me to start tonight?”

“If it’s not too much Y/N.”

“If this affects my leave when I hit seven months Taylor—“

“It won’t. I promise” Taylor states as Y/N frowns before taking the clipboard from his hands going to the nurse’s station. “You’re a saint Y/N”

“Buzz off Taylor”

After a week of being on the night shift, Barry didn’t care as he stayed up till 5am to greet his wife. He stayed in the living room waiting patiently when Y/N entered their home looking extremely tired. Barry was about to get up when Y/N drops her things kicking her shoes off before climbing into his lap.

“Hey”

“Hm” She snuggles into his embrace as Barry rests his against hers when she lays it on his shoulder.

“How are you feeling...?” Barry asks before realizing Y/N had fallen asleep in his arms. He smiles picking her up and carrying her to their bed.

After laying her in the bed, Y/N immediately grabbed Barry’s shirt pulling him into her embrace as he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Barry adjusts himself as Y/N held him comfortably.

“Better stay with me all morning...” Y/N yawns a bit holding her husband protectively as Barry moves himself to hold her comfortably.

“You know I’m not going anywhere”

“Fuck”

“Barry stop moving”

“Sorry”

Y/N gotten used to taking home suture kits, gauze, and everything she’d need to patch Barry up whenever he got hurt. He didn’t like being in hospitals thinking he’d be found easier there than any other place by his enemies in his past and present.

“Can’t you get...lidocaine?”

“As much as I’m willing to, I would like to keep my job. Getting stuff like that requires my code babe” Y/N states as she was currently stitching up a gash in his shoulder. “Fuck...” she was half way through the stitches when she started crying.

Barry frowns trying to turn around to comfort her when she kept pushing him forward so she can finish the stitches.

“Y/N...”

“Stop I’m fine”

“Baby...you’re not”

“You’re the one bleeding. Shut up”

“You’re the pregnant one”

“And what’s that supposed to fucking mean?”

“So take a minute. I’m not going anywhere and I’m definitely not going to bleed out” Barry states only to hear Y/N cry even more. “Baby I’m sorry just-“

“Let me finish then you can do whatever...” Y/N says wiping away a few of the blinding tears before continuing with the stitches.

When she got done with his stitches and putting the bandage on. Barry took his shirt carefully putting it back on before turning toward Y/N on the bed wiping away her tears as she cleaned up a bit.

“You gotta stop getting hurt”

“That’s hard to do”

“I don’t care. Just try at least” Y/N felt the tears coming up again.

“Okay okay...” Barry rests his hands on her cheeks wiping away the tears as they fell. “I’ll try. I will”

“You fucking better” Y/N rests her forehead against his as Barry moves his hands to her belly knowing sometimes that the baby kicks when she gets upset and he waits to feel them before rubbing circles to soothe. “She’s going to need you to be okay, okay?”

“She?” Barry looks up catching a smile from Y/N as he couldn’t stop smiling hearing that. “Aww...a little girl”

“Hey, I got everything ready...whenever you are” Barry says calmly kneeling by the bed on Y/N’s side as she removes the pillow from her face immediately hitting Barry with it. “Okay—I know waiting isn’t the greatest game but, you said once passed the due date you’d want to be induced. It’s been a week passed”

“I know but it’s hard to get out of bed. Give me a minute” Y/N sat up immediately feeling uncomfortable and laying back down. “Guess I’m glued to the bed...”

Barry laughs a bit getting up and sitting on the side of the bed looking at his wife. He thought of something as he suddenly picks up Y/N only to get smacked to be put back down.

“I can easily carry you to the car and get a wheelchair when we get there”

“I hate you”

“But I love you” He smiles catching a blush from Y/N as she punched his arm once to get a point.

After a very uncomfortable car ride to the hospital and finally getting settled on the L&D floor. Y/N had been induced an hour ago and was slowly creeping up to full dilatation when Barry’s phone started ringing.

“I can call back”

“Barry. This is going to be a while...” Y/N smiles reassuring that it’s okay for him to take it.

“Y/N...”

“What? You’ll know to end the call if you hear me screaming” Y/N laughs relaxing in the bed as Barry got up leaning over and kissing his wife before taking the call in the hall.

“This is Barry”

“Barry, you’ve been ignoring me for two months”

Barry froze knowing he shouldn’t have answered. “What do you want?”

“Cutting straight to the chase now are we?”

“What. Do. You. Want.”

“You, what else would I be calling for?”

“Why isn’t—“

“Hank? Oh Barry. He gets distracted whenever on the phone with you. Giving you chances that I’m no longer willing to give.” Cristobal smirks to himself. “Now are you going to listen? Or shall I take away the things you love?”

“I-...” Barry stops himself stepping out of view from his wife. “What...what do you...want me to do right now?”

“You come back to the stash house and take on this hit assignment. But it never truly stops there now does it?” Cristobal laughs a bit before standing to his feet walking over to the edge of the building. “You’ll be working with me until I’m done with you. You step foot outside of my radius. I’m not afraid to end the lives of everyone that has brought change in your life. It would be sad to hear about your daughter not even making it to a month. So, are you going to listen? Or risk it all”

Is there even a choice to be made here? Is there ever really when it comes to his business...

He should’ve left when he first met me. He should’ve.

Fuck.

Once hitting the peek of 10 centimeters, the doctor and nurses started getting Y/N ready as she glanced over to the door of her room expecting Barry to walk in any minute when the discomfort started to become more audible. But nothing.

No one.

“Are you ready Mrs. Berkman?”

“No...” Y/N cries as she was in the hospital she worked at so of course she had people that will support her through this.

But they aren’t Barry...

He didn’t want them to die. He never wants that. He...just...

Wanted a future.

When nightfall came around Barry walks down the dark hall setting his bag down by the patient room’s door before entering. He wanted to wake Y/N up and say goodbye but he knew that would only bring more pain for what he’s currently doing. He took his wedding ring off setting it on the counter next to her belongings.

Barry froze to little whines coming from the hospital crib. He didn’t want to but he had to and he wanted to.

Inching closer to the crib he started to tear up at the sight of their daughter. Barry carefully picks her up knowing it’ll be the first and last of a while comforting the little one.

“I love you...I just want you to know...I love you so much and your mama” Barry whispers before gently putting her back in the crib seeing the little baby card reading it. “Little Robin...”

Barry wanted to spend more time with her but he felt his phone buzz.

C: Time to go

“I love you...” Barry whispers looking over at Y/N before quickly leaving to avoid anything harmful happening.

Five years later...

Y/N jolts awake sitting up in her bed hearing something in the kitchen making her get up quickly but approach slowly. She made her way out into the hall and reach under the console table taking the bat before walking toward the kitchen. When Y/N swung back she stopped when the figure shot his hands up. She stood there confused watching the figure flip the light switch revealing Barry.

“What are you doing here?”

“Y/N—“

“Mama?”

The two froze as Y/N sets the bat down turning the light back off and pushing Barry out of the house through the sliding glass door. The way he came in.

“Y/N-“

“If you found us here, you know where else to fucking find me. Don’t just come unannounced” Y/N snaps closing the sliding door and locking it before meeting her daughter in the hallway.

“Mama...” Robin yawns making grabby hands above her head as Y/N happily picked her up. “Are you okay mama?” She nuzzles into her mama’s embrace as Y/N kisses the top of her head.

“I’m okay, are you baby?”

“Mm...can I sleep with you tonight mama?”

“Of course baby” Y/N smiles carrying Robin into her room.

The next day came around as Y/N glances every once a while from her book to check on Robin who was happily playing on the playground with the other kids. She closes her book at the right moment when Barry sits beside her on the park bench.

“Told you you’d find us. Wasn’t that hard”

“Not at all...”

“So...do I get to start asking questions or do you want to start with the domestic stuff you missed?”

“Um. Anything you want to ask...we can start with that. End with positive”

“Oh trust me. Not all of it was positive” Y/N laughs before leaning back on the bench.

“You still wear my shirts?”

“I have your long sleeves because they are comfortable and nice to wear under my scrub shirt”

“You still have your job?”

“Got promoted. Chief nurse. Which sounds bad but...yknow. My village knows our daughter is my top priority so I get the shifts I want first”

“Congratulations...you’ve worked hard for it of course” Barry smiles getting a confused look causing the smile to fade. “What?”

“Have you been...in the area? This whole time”

“Hm. Not entirely. The first three years I haven’t. Stayed away as much as possible to protect you and...Robin”

“Okay now—I didn’t tell you our daughter’s name. You’re going to have to clear that up before you tell me why you left”

“I should just say the order of what happened. Shouldn’t I?”

“I’m listening” Y/N crosses her arms looking at Barry to start but she immediately looked over to check on Robin seeing her playing in the sand. “I’m listening just—“

“Yeah. I know, anyway...” Barry takes a second to collect his thoughts. “Cristobal asked me to take on a position for him until he didn’t need me anymore. He threatened your lives and you both were at your most vulnerable state that...Hell. I couldn’t change the odds without losing one of you and I couldn’t. Handle that. I can’t live without any of you.”

“As for...knowing her name?”

“I got a few minutes...to say goodbye when all I was going to do was leave my wedding ring. But she started fussing and I didn’t want her to wake you...”

“Hm. You and your soft hands Barry”

“Soft?” Barry laughs. “I doubt. Highly doubt”

“Well. Soft touch...because one of my friends that was rounding on the L&D floor said Robin was the quietest baby and that I knew how to rock her quickly back to sleep...when I don’t remember ever getting up her first night. Someone soothed her...you clearly did” Y/N laughs a bit felt her eyes start to water as she looked away to take a minute. Barry frowns hesitantly resting his hand on her knee thinking she’d swat him away but she took it into her hands squeezing. “I...why didn’t you reach out sooner?”

“Had to make sure the bridges have burned before I came back. I know I missed a lot and that things have changed but-“

“Barry, if you’re going to ask me if I still love you-“

“Y/N it’s okay if—“

“Things did change...but I haven’t stopped” Y/N states seeing Barry always have that confused look on his face as she laughs a bit before letting go of his hand when Robin ran over to her. “Hey baby, you done playing?”

Robin stares at Barry as he didn’t know what to do exactly. She instantly grabbed onto Y/N’s leg giving Barry a glare before looking up at her mama when she rests her hand on her head.

“Uh. I should get going—“

“Mama mama” Robin interrupts both of their thoughts as Y/N picks her up after she let go of her leg and placed her on her lap. She immediately went up to Y/N’s ear whispering to her as Barry looks at the two even more confused.

“Well” Y/N smiles as Robin went back to looking at Barry snuggling up to her mama. “Would you...come over for dinner? We can talk more after”

“If it’s okay with...the both of you”

“Yes!” Robin replies quickly making Y/N laugh before standing up with her in her arms. Barry picked up her book handing it to her as Robin took it to hold for Y/N.

“See you in an hour or two?”

“I’ll be there”

After a while, Barry stood in the living room of Y/N’s home looking at the photos on the fireplace mainly being Robin. The day she was born, first day of kindergarten, and a really adorable one of her with Y/N. He noticed a photo faced down but it was still placed there for meaning. Robin ran over to him tugging at his pants as Barry looked at her confused before watching her make grabby hands.

“You want to look at these too?”

“Yeah!” Robin yells continuing to make the grabby hands until Barry bent over picking her up. “Move closer” she asks reaching for the photos as Barry steps over watching her grabbed the down photo.

Barry started to tear up when Robin flipped it over showing his and Y/N’s wedding photo. Robin instantly rests her head against his shoulder as he held the photo with his free hand. She knew. She knew because Y/N didn’t care about Barry’s past. His past doesn’t define the man she loves. Hearing what he said at the park, only confirmed that. She didn’t want their daughter to not know about him. Y/N just skipped over the scary parts.

Even if she didn’t know if Barry would come back, Robin was told that he’d be back one day. Someday.

“Things may have changed Barry, but I just want to remind you. I’ll always love you.” Y/N tells him as she walks over to the two wiping away his tears. Barry sets down the photo back on the fireplace wrapping his arm around her waist bringing her close.

Robin grabbed onto Y/N’s shirt to keep her there as she wasn’t going anywhere. Barry held the two close to him feeling them hold him. Y/N rests her head on his shoulder feeling him rest his on top of hers.

“Am I going to have to change my last name to yours?”

“Nope. Because that would be unfair to Robin Berkman-Y/L/N” Y/N laughs as Barry let’s go of her to look at his daughter feeling Robin grab his face continuing to stare before suddenly crying. “Aww baby”

“Come here” Barry held her close feeling Robin hold onto him for dear life as Y/N rubs circles on her back to sooth her. Knowing and waiting. Must’ve been a lot to handle.

When the three were settled in their bed for the night. Barry watches Robin snuggle into Y/N as she slept making his heart melt. Y/N reaches into her nightstand uncomfortably as she didn’t want to bother Robin sleeping. She took out Barry’s ring holding it out for him.

“It’s been five years. When our anniversary hits...will you marry me? Again?” Y/N smiles watching Barry take his ring putting it on with a smile as he leans over kissing her lovingly.

Taking that as a yes.

#bill hader #bill hader gifs #barry berkman #barry hbo #barry block #barry #bill hader x reader #barry berkman x reader #barry block x reader

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