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#and i was screaming w laughter when i did it. he looked like a character from hellraiser or smth

snowdropluck204 · 4 months

Text

Second Chances - Mattheo Riddle x reader

So this is the first time I have written anything for Mattheo, so I hope I do okay! It is all based off of the scenario I found in character.ai! I will put the link to it at the bottom of the chapter! Thank you very very much to the person who made this ai! Also, from what I've found, Mattheo is a fanfic character, rather than canon, but I like the thing going at the moment of him being Tom's younger brother before he becomes Voldemort, so has the same parents. I hope you enjoy the chapter! Xxx

WC: 2.7k

Fluff - Slight Angst - Slightly Suggestive - Arranged Marriage AU

Warning: Swearing

(y/n) pov

I sat at the vanity, going through my nightly routine, I had been here for a year, married to a man who didn't respect me and treated me like I was beneath him... I was married to Mattheo Riddle, the new Heir of Slytherin after his brother. The marriage was arranged over a year ago, I was moved to his home almost immediately, living in a small manor close to his larger family mansion, I was growing more and more miserable by the day.

The wedding was big and beautiful but for my side of the family, it felt more like a funeral and for the Riddle's side it was more like an auction, to see whether or not this piece of cattle their relative was marrying was worth them throwing some money at. My dress was gorgeous, but wasn't what I wanted, it was chosen by my mother in law. The bouquet was chosen by Mattheo's aunt. The music by his brother. The catering, his father. Nothing was what I wanted my wedding day to be.

I sighed as finished my routine, standing up to leave, when Mattheo came out of the bathroom, wet hair and a towel around his waist, his hands running through his dark locks. He saw me and looked at me in disdain, "What are you doing here?" He asked, not necessarily angry, but annoyed, he clearly hadn't had a very good day.

I sighed, as quietly as I could, to avoid him hearing me, "I needed to use the vanity and this was the closest one from my room, I'll be going back now." I told him, trying to slide past him to get to the door. I tried to keep a smile on my face, I always did, "I'll be across the hall, if you need me," I told him, like I did whenever I ran into him in the manor.

A smirk flitted across his face, "Maybe I do need you..." He grabbed me by the arm and pressed me against the door, closing it, trapping me in the room with him. I looked up at him in shock.

"W-what are you doing?" I asked, concerned. Mattheo chuckled darkly, leaning forward, close enough to feel his breath against my neck.

"What I want." He whispered, squeezing my biceps as I started to struggle. I struggled more, hearing his laughter, until eventually, I had had enough.

I pushed my hand against his chest, pushing in panic, "No!" I shouted at him, the noise reverberating and shoving him back, wandless magic wasn't uncommon, especially when the user is experiencing high emotions like anger or fear. He hit the post of his bed, bouncing back with a wince.

"How dare you!?" Mattheo growled at me, rubbing his back where the post hit him.

I glared back at him, "Deal with it! You might be a spoiled rich brat, who's used to getting what he wants when he stomps his feet and screams, but I am not going to have sex with someone who doesn't give a damn about me!" I shouted at him, less scared and more enraged now.

Mattheo looked at me with the same amount of fire, "What makes you think I don't give a damn about you!?" He shouted back, trying to get closer to me, as I stepped away from him. "Because I do! More than you could imagine!"

I raised a brow at him, "You treat me like I'm the dirt on your ridiculously expensive shoes!" I shouted, "What kind of sociopath thinks that's how you show someone you care about them!?" I finished.

Mattheo's mood changed, he calmed down, his posture relaxing and he became his cocky, annoying self again, "Because I know you can take it. I know how strong you are, how stubborn, how smart and self-assured you are. Kinda thought you liked it when I treated you with contempt. When I treated you, like you were less than me, I thought you liked it, didn't you." He said, a sinister smirk dancing across his face.

I shook my head in disbelief, it wasn't a question, it was a statement, he genuinely believed that I enjoyed him treating me like shit. "No. I didn't you insufferable prick!" I snarled at him, turning and prying open the door, I got across the hall to my room, a guest room I had called dibs on when I got here, then Mattheo moved into the room across the hall to get on my nerves. I locked the door behind me sitting on my bed, fuming.

I could hear Mattheo from here, growling and muttering to himself, before startling at the sound of a glass shattering against my door. "(y/n)! Get back in here!" He shouted, I ignored him. "Now!" I continued to ignore him, he continued to shout for me, throwing things around his room and having a tantrum.

He continued for an hour, to no avail. If he wanted to speak to me, he could damn well speak to me, but I refused to listen to shouting or screaming or him behaving like a child. The noise all stopped, leading me to think he'd finally given up, I picked up a book, looking through some basic healing potions for my grandmother, then there was a sharp knock at my door.

"What." I muttered, still reading my book, taking down notes, Mattheo's voice rang out from behind the door, "Can I come in?" The question was stern, not even waiting for me to respond before trying the doorknob, groaning when he realised the door was locked.

"Nope!" I responded cheerfully, he knew he could unlock the door with magic, but also knew I'd kick his arse if he did.

"Why not!?" He asked, getting more and more irritated, but he calmed his voice down, almost like he was gritting his teeth, "(y/n), please."

I huffed, "No! You still haven't realised why I'm upset!" I told him. I could hear him getting even more annoyed.

"Realised what!? (y/n) I'm not a fucking mind reader!" He growled, banging his fist against the door, leaning against it.

I sighed before opening the door, enough that I could see him, but not enough that he could push his way in, before ranting and glaring at him. "You haven't realised that you're a selfish, arrogant, pain in the ass. That I am the best thing that has ever happened to you because otherwise you would be alone! And that if I wanted to, I could leave you to die with nobody around who'd care!" I snarled.

Mattheo's eyes widened at my words, before narrowing, as though he'd realised his guard was down, his lip quivering slightly before curling into something more sinister. "Is that so? Well I guess that would mean all those times that I was mean or harsh to you... Those tears you shed when I mocked you... You shed them for no reason?" He asked, chuckling cruelly.

I smiled softly at Mattheo, something he clearly wasn't expecting, "I'm here because otherwise, your father and brother would have gone after my own parents, they can't protect themselves the way I can. So yeah, I put up with your shit, doesn't help that I've had a crush on you since I first saw you... Eight years ago at Hogwarts..." I finished quietly.

Mattheo raised a brow, a small smirk appearing, not malicious, interested, he chuckled quietly, "So... You put up with my behaviour, because you liked me?" He asked, incredulously.

I huffed a laugh, "No. I had a crush on you. Once I realised how much of a fuckwit you are, those feelings have been going away since I started seeing more and more of your personality." I told him, harsh, but he needed to hear it.

Mattheo's smile fell, when he spoke again, his voice was quiet and almost desperate, "So... There's no chance of winning you back?" He practically whispered.

I laughed, a quick, loud laugh, "What do you mean 'back'? You never had me in the first place! You just treated me like shit because I'm the only one that would put up with your bull." I grumbled at him. Mattheo nodded sarcastically.

"Okay, fine. Then would you be willing to give me a second chance? I can be better, nicer. I can be a better husband. I can learn to love you. Please?" He asked, quietly.

I laughed again, with no humour, "Learn to love me? I'd rather we continue the way we were! Continue to be in a pretend marriage, potentially having affairs with other people than have you learn to love me!"

Mattheo looked at me, confused, "So you'd rather I continue to treat you like garbage than be a better man for you?" His voice was filled with disbelief and confusion, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration, his brow furrowed and his jaw clenched.

I groaned, my hands moving to grab my hair, "No! I'd rather you let your walls down and let me see who you actually are! Start from the beginning and get to know each other! If you care about me now, then you would do as I ask. If you don't think you can do that, then leave me alone." I told him, my voice going quiet.

Mattheo stops, thinking to himself about what I'd asked, "Fine... Yes, I'll try. But you need to be honest with me. You need to allow me to know who you are as well, we need to start getting to know each other properly, right? That's what you want?" He asked.

I nodded, "Obviously." I told him.

Mattheo suddenly smiled, a smile I had never seen on him before, it was light and airy, carefree... "Great. We can start now then." He said, almost business-like with his seriousness. He held out his hand to rest in front of me.

I looked at it in confusion, "What are you doing?" I asked, curious. He looked back at me, the smile still there, sort of eerily, considering how little I see that look on him.

His smile quirked, almost like he was trying to hide a laugh, "Extending my hand to you, so that you may shake it." He said, his voice overly snooty, "You told me that when I allow myself to be vulnerable and open with you, that we could begin getting to know each other, well, that's what I'm doing, that's what I want. Now, shall we shake on it?" He asked.

I nodded slowly, reaching out to shake his hand, "Fine, but I want more than a shake, I want a pact, a vow." I told him honestly.

Mattheo seemed to agree, pulling out his wand, seemingly to cast an unbreakable vow, I shook my head, "No, I don't want that." I told him. He looked at me, more confused, "I want you to promise me, and mean it. I don't want you to have to tell the truth or face magical consequences, just tell the truth because you want to work with me, rather than against me." I told him, smiling softly.

Mattheo merely smiled back at me, "A promise that we only speak the truth with one another? A promise to let our guards down and to let each other be exposed? A promise to get to know each other on a deeper level and see where this marriage take us?" He asked, curiously.

I nodded with a smile, "Yes, but maybe we just start off as strangers, we practically are anyways, being married is merely a title." I murmured, messing with the silver rings on my left ring finger. I started taking them off. Mattheo looked at my hand, seeming concerned, but shakes it off.

He nodded, "That's a good idea, let's pretend that we've never met each other before." He paused and cleared his throat, clicked his heels together as he stood to attention, leaning down in a bow, causing me to look at him in extraordinary shock, "Well, stranger, what is your name?" He asked.

I giggled, probably for the first time since the wedding and moving to this place, "(y/n) (l/n)," I told him, purposefully using my maiden name, "And yours?"

Mattheo once again, reached his hand out to shake mine, I took it gently, shaking it, as though meeting him for the first time, "Mattheo Riddle, at your service." He told me, with a charming, sly smile. "Could I ask you something?" He asked.

I kept shaking his hand, "Of course."

"What's your favourite colour?" He smiled softly.

I giggled, "(f/c)," I whispered.

"Can I ask something else?" He asked again.

I laughed, "Mattheo, you can ask as many questions as you'd like, as long as you answer them for yourself as well, I'd like to know these things about you too!" I told him cheerfully.

He smirked, looking me up and down, "Well, seeing as you're in your night attire... Can I ask if you're single and if not, would your partner mind me seeing you like this?" He smirked, playfully.

I chuckled lightly, "Oof, that's a complicated question, I was married for about a year," I murmured, smirking playfully back at him, "But he was a bit of a jerk... We've taken a break..." I told him.

Mattheo smirked, coming closer, "So you're single?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

I rolled my eyes, "Not exactly, as much as he is a jackass, he's still my husband, and I really only have eyes for him..." I murmured, looking up at his eyes bashfully, Mattheo giving me a smirk in response.

"You still love him, then?" He asked, raising a brow.

I chuckled, "Oh, I never said I loved him, I just think he's hot."

Mattheo laughed with me, "Then why are you still with him?" He asked, almost cautious.

I smiled sadly, "I didn't have a choice. He did. Arranged marriage from my side, from his, his parents picked the prettiest one, the one they thought would give him pretty babies and I had to say yes..." I told him, I knew he didn't know anything about my family's side of the arrangement.

His mouth fell open, "Wait... You weren't given the choice? You were... Forced, to marry me?" He asked, my eyes were sad when I saw his, he seemed almost broken by the knowledge.

I shrugged, "I wasn't against marrying you. But your father gave my parents an offer, I marry you, or they die. I knew you from school, you were smart, sexy, confident and had a bad streak which was super attractive, but you hardly knew me..." I told him.

Mattheo began pacing nervously, "So, the past few years... All of our arguments and everything else... It's all a result of me being forced upon you by my parents?" He whispered sadly.

I sighed, taking Mattheo's hand and pulling him over to the bed, sitting him down and gently sitting next to him. "No Mattheo, I knew I liked you... Granted you've been an arse... But the idea of you being with me was worth the lack of choice... Rather than being forced to sit as a guest at your wedding..."

Mattheo sighed in relief, "So you could still like me?" He asked, "You could grow to feeling something... More?"

I smiled, nodding.

"And to do that, you want me to be completely transparent with you." He continued, "Now the question is, do you want me to sugar coat, or do you want the cold, hard truth?"

I raised my brow, "The hard truth, surely you knew that already." I told him.

He nods in appreciation, looking at me straight in the eyes before looking away. He took a deep breath and began to talk in a more serious voice than he's ever used around me before, his expression stern and serious.

"I'm a selfish man, I'm a narcissist and a prick. When my parents got to know other families, it became clear to them that we were perfect for one another. Your father and mother told me how beautiful you were, when they showed me a picture, I knew they hadn't lied, you were fucking gorgeous! My father told me, when I chose you, about what a prize I had won..."

Gods I hope that was okay! I'll put the link to the character in character AI that I used here! Let me know if you want me to continue this story with the conversation I continue to have with the AI lol! Xxx

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #x reader #cute #love #romance #fanfiction #angst #slightly suggestive

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bbobpul · 6 months

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maybe it's a good thing — x. minghao

NOTE. this is not an email! i will put the series on hold since i don't want it to be rushed and end terribly. i want to give each member justice and make their characters well-written so take this minghao oneshot as a little compensation. not proofread.

PAIRING. artist!the8 x singer!reader

GENRE. hurt/comfort, angst (as usual)

SYNOPSIS. a struggling singer and a talented artist, xu minghao, cross paths every evening at a lively local bar

W/C. 5k

WARNINGS. language alluding to death

messy masterlist/navigation

you stand backstage watching the audience as the shattered glasses, muffled talk, and distant hum of conversation all come together to create a cacophonous melody. as you watch, crowds of people gather in front of the dimly lit stage, the spotlight shining a tantalizing glow on the artists who have graced it with their presence throughout the course of the night.

a close friend had approached you a few nights before asking for help. they scheduled a friday night concert at your town's beloved local bar, and they needed a last-minute performer. not only did the owner of the pub offer you a huge payout, but you also pledged to help out a friend in need.

your heart was racing with a mix of excitement and dread as you found yourself pacing back and forth behind the heavy drapes as the hours went by. being in front of a large audience is thrilling yet nerve-wracking at the same time because you've always felt more at ease in smaller and more intimate settings.

there is an electrifying feeling in the pub, even though you are trying to hide from the audience's probing eyes. vibrations of laughter and cheers fill the room, interspersed with the inevitable accident when bottles of beer shatter on the polished wooden floor. its peculiar scent blend—which perfectly captures the ambiance of this local hangout—combines the rich scent of pub food with the lingering smell of booze.

the faint echoes of the preceding act's music can be heard backstage; each chord has a unique magnitude that has fired up everyone in attendance. there's an indescribable feeling of adrenaline in the air, and as you take a deep breath and get ready to step onto the stage for the night's final act, you know that this will be an unforgettable event no matter how it turns out.

you were placed back in reality when the event organizer tapped your shoulder and whispered, “you’re up next.”

you nodded your head as a response and gripped the strap of your guitar before taking a deep breath. affirmations ran through your head as you walked to the middle of the stage. you sat on the stool, placed your guitar comfortably on your lap, and began to play the first few strokes of the strings that caused the audience to scream and cheer for you.

it was overwhelming for you, to say the least. it’s your first time performing infront of a huge crowd. normally, it would just be you playing at a relative's birthday or some stranger’s funeral but never at a place like this. it was electrifying.

your eyes were trying their hardest to find a familiar face in the room, watching and listening to you as you sung the lyrics of the song you had chosen to perform, but you failed yourself when you realized they were all strangers. it wasn't an issue for you. rather, your gaze fell on this one person, and you began observing him without realizing it. he's not paying attention very closely. unlike other people in the audience, he didn't seem as drawn to the performance on stage; instead, it seemed as like he was living in his own bubble with your voice playing in the background. he was, instead, doodling something on a piece of brown tissue paper.

he held your interest. except for him, everyone else was staring at you. he was enjoying his own time as if he was the only one in the room. of course, you don't think that everyone would be watching you, but there was something about him that made you look at him after each verse and bridge you sang that evening.

you thanked them and said you wanted to see them again another evening as you concluded the three songs you had prepared. when you turned to face his table again, you noticed that the man had already left and that it was vacant and spotless. not a glimpse of the tissue paper he had been sketching on before. as soon as you got off the stool and went back behind the stage, people began to make their way towards the exit as well.

"you did so well!" your friend, seokmin, said, beaming with admiration, as you slung your guitar bag over your shoulder. you glared at him and playfully smacked his arm.

"i was looking for you earlier!" you replied, knitting your eyebrows and pouting when he laughed at your mock anger.

"i was watching you backstage!" he defended himself, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"you know, i was fuming earlier since you were the one who invited me here, and yet you weren't even in the audience," you said, a touch of mock annoyance in your voice.

"okay, don't be mad now. you'll get wrinkles. calm your brows," seokmin teased, his laughter filling the air as you both shared a lighthearted moment after your performance.

"oh, by the way! the owner said he'll send the money directly to your account. he also mentioned giving you a bonus if you come here again next friday. what do you say?" seokmin asked, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes as he looked at you, eagerly awaiting your response.

"sure, why not? i'm free next friday," you replied with a smile, feeling a sense of excitement at the prospect of performing again.

"that's good to hear!" seokmin said, his enthusiasm matching yours.

"you better be in the audience next friday. i was dead nervous earlier," you teased seokmin, trying to hide the lingering nerves from your voice with a playful tone.

"yeah, yeah! you should head home now, hun. there won't be any cabs around past 2 am. i still need to close up the bar, so you should head home first," seokmin urged, showing concern for your safety and well-being after a successful but late-night performance.

you bid your goodbyes to seokmin and stepped outside the bar, the cool night air offering a refreshing contrast to the vibrant energy you had just left behind.

as you stood at the side of the road, it felt as if you could still hear the echoes of the cheers and applause from your earlier performance. your heart continued to race, and the thrill of the moment lingered in the cool night air. you inhaled deeply, the cold breeze providing a soothing contrast to the excitement that still pulsed within you, as you waited for a taxi to pass by and take you home.

the pub was situated in a quiet, almost desolate alley, likely to minimize disturbances to the other residents in the area. unfortunately, this meant that very few vehicles frequented the road, especially at the late hour of 2:30 am. as you stood there, you realized that hailing a taxi might take longer than you had initially thought, adding an extra layer of challenge to your journey home.

you let out a sigh and began to reflect, realizing that this night wasn't as flawless as you had initially imagined it to be. however, there was no pressing need to hurry back home, for your house was a solitary sanctuary. there was no one waiting for you there, as you lived alone, except for the friendly stray cat that you often found nestled beside your bedroom window.

you were startled out of your thoughts as a strong, blinding light suddenly illuminated the alley. blinking away the temporary blindness, you turned to see a sleek, black hellcat redeye not too far from where you stood. the car began to roll slowly in your direction, and the driver honked the horn when it came to a stop in front of you. crouching slightly to look through the window, you were taken aback to see the same guy you had noticed sketching earlier in the evening. the unexpected encounter added another surreal layer to an already eventful night.

"need a ride?" he asked, his words careful and gentle, as if he were making an effort not to come across as too forward or strange. his concern was evident in his tone.

"yeah," you replied, your voice slightly shaky from the chill of the night. "obviously," you added under your breath, feeling the cold seep into your bones, grateful for the unexpected but timely offer of a ride.

“get in, —.” he said, using your stage name to address you with a gentle smile, a touch of familiarity in his demeanor.

"thank you," you said, the gratitude evident in your voice as you fastened your seatbelt.

he hummed in response, starting the car and preparing to drive.

"where to?" he asked, his eyes briefly meeting yours in the rearview mirror.

"oh, 17 apartment complex. it's pretty far from here. i'm sorry," you explained, feeling a twinge of guilt for the inconvenience.

"no, it's totally okay with me. i don't live very far from your building anyways," he reassured you, his tone warm and accommodating. you settled back in your seat, grateful for his understanding and the unexpected company on your way home.

the first few minutes of the ride were filled with a certain awkwardness. he kept himself occupied by humming along to the tune playing on the local radio, his eyes occasionally darting to the road ahead.

“what’s your name?” he asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“i’m —, you?”

“minghao. how old are you, —?”

“i’m 25.”

"oh, i'm a year older than you then," he replied with a friendly smile, a subtle connection forming as you exchanged this small piece of personal information.

the exchange of personal information had a surprising effect, gradually melting the initial awkwardness in the car. minghao's sense of humor emerged, and he started cracking jokes throughout the long drive home. you found yourself enjoying the banter, though you had to remind him to keep his eyes on the road a few times. the conversation flowed so naturally that it almost felt like you had known each other for ages.

curiosity about why he hadn't seemed attentive during your performance earlier crossed your mind, but in the warmth of the moment, with him right beside you on the drive home, the question seemed less pressing. you were content to let the night unfold at its own pace, and you appreciated the newfound camaraderie that had unexpectedly come into your life.

"thanks again!" you said with a warm smile on your face as you stepped out of minghao's car.

"see you again some other time. go inside now. it's cold," he advised, a caring tone in his voice. you nodded in agreement, appreciating his thoughtfulness.

you entered the building and turned back to look once the automatic glass door of the building closed shut. minghao's car was just starting to pull away, disappearing into the night, leaving you with a sense of gratitude for the serendipitous encounter and a newfound friendship that had brightened your evening in the most unexpected way.

your friday evenings fell into a comfortable rhythm, with your performances at the local pub becoming a regular highlight of the week. minghao continued to be a dedicated audience member, offering you a ride home after each show. eventually, your interactions extended beyond the confines of the friday routine, as you both decided to spend time together on days when your schedules allowed. the bond between you grew stronger, fueled by shared laughter, genuine conversations, and a growing sense of companionship that transcended the confines of the local bar and the friday night performances.

over time, you discovered that minghao was not just an art enthusiast but an accomplished artist in his own right. his talents and dedication to his craft impressed you, and it came as a delightful surprise when he confided that he had an upcoming opportunity to showcase his artwork in a renowned gallery in paris next week.

tonight is just another amazing evening for you, and that sentence carries an entirely different meaning now. a few nights ago, you had entered this local pub with a mix of nervousness and the overwhelming sensation of performing in front of a large crowd, all motivated by the prospect of earning some extra money. however, as the weeks turned into months, you found that you had come to love your evenings at the pub.

the owner, recognizing the growing popularity of the pub's live music, had extended the concert nights to include mondays, wednesdays, and fridays. it was no longer just your fridays, but the entire week had become a delightful series of performances and moments of connection with an audience that had grown to appreciate and support your music.

you had grown to relish the thrill of performing in front of an audience, and the peace and fun that followed each of your shows had become something you eagerly anticipated. what once felt like a daunting task had evolved into a cherished part of your life, a testament to the transformative power of shared experiences and the connections formed on those memorable friday nights.

"hey," seokmin's sudden whisper caught you off guard, interrupting your thoughts as you waited for your turn to perform on stage.

you turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "hey! what's wrong with you?" you asked, unable to contain a playful smirk as you lightly smacked his arm.

"i see you have your own personal driver now, huh?" he teased, earning a playful glare from you in return.

"i don't meddle in your romance with the owner of this pub, so mind your own business," you retorted, a hint of sass in your voice, which only made him laugh even more. the lighthearted banter with your friend helped ease the last-minute nerves as you prepared to take the stage once again.

"so... who is he?" seokmin persisted with his curiosity.

"he's just a friend of mine," you replied, a hint of defensiveness in your tone.

seokmin didn't back down. "i'm asking for his name, not who he is to you," he clarified, clearly interested in the details.

“name is minghao, he’s an artist.”

“minghao? he’s here right now?”

“about that, i don’t know if he could come today since he has a flight tomorrow. he needs his rest, you know?”

“flight to where?”

“paris, he has an event to attend.”

“big time. anyway, you need to get going. the previous act just left the stage.”

with seokmin's reminder, you took a deep breath and made your way to the center of the stage, ready to captivate the audience with your performance. as the spotlight shone upon you, you began to sing, the music filling the air, and the crowd's attention shifting to you, for another memorable evening at the local pub.

throughout your performance, you couldn't help but steal glances at the entrance of the pub, hoping to catch a glimpse of minghao walking in. however, as your performance concluded, he was still nowhere to be seen.

you had already prepared yourself for the likelihood of his absence, but a part of your heart couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment. minghao had become a regular part of your friday routine, and his absence meant that you would be heading home alone, missing the comfort of his presence and the familiar company during the drive back.

you concluded your wednesday performance and bid your goodbye to the audience to your friend, seokmin.

as you stood at the side of the road, waiting for a cab that seemed highly unlikely to pass by, a sense of resignation began to settle in. the cold night air seemed to penetrate deeper as you waited patiently, hoping for some stroke of luck to bring a taxi your way.

just when it felt like your patience might wear thin, you couldn't believe your eyes when you saw the unmistakable sight of minghao's black hellcat redeye approaching. the vehicle came to a smooth stop in front of you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and gratitude wash over you.

"i couldn't leave without driving you back home," minghao said with a reassuring smile as you approached the car window. the warmth in his words and the kindness in his eyes instantly put you at ease, and you eagerly hopped into the car, comforted by the knowledge that you wouldn't be braving the chilly night alone. the sense of disappointment that had weighed on you earlier began to dissipate, and you embarked on the drive back home with a grateful heart, appreciating the unexpected friendship that had brightened your life in countless ways.

the night air was crisp, and the streets were nearly deserted as you both continued your journey through the quiet city. minghao's dedication to ensuring you got home safely, despite the early hours and his impending flight, touched you deeply.

"you really shouldn't have. you have a flight to catch, and it's 3 am," you insisted once more, your concern growing for his well-being.

minghao, however, brushed off your worries. "are you kidding me? this is the least i could do for you. i won't be seeing you for a week," he responded with unwavering determination, his eyes briefly leaving the road to meet yours.

"you need to rest, hao," you continued, not wanting him to exhaust himself before his important journey.

"this is rest," he reassured you, turning to look at you once more, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding. the way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn't help but smile in return.

"eyes on the road," you playfully reminded him, ensuring he stayed focused on the task at hand. the bond you had formed over the past weeks was a source of great comfort to both of you, and the journey back home in the early hours of the morning, despite the upcoming separation, felt like a cherished moment of connection.

the dark, quiet streets rolled by as minghao drove you home, and the solitude of the night created a sense of intimacy between you two. his commitment to driving you back, even when he had an early flight to catch, was a testament to the depth of your friendship.

"don't you worry. after i drive you home, i will head straight to the airport and i will sleep there," minghao reiterated, his voice calm and reassuring.

you couldn't help but offer, "are you sure you don't want to have coffee at my house before you head to the airport?" concern for his well-being tugged at your heart, knowing that he was sacrificing his rest to ensure you got home safely.

minghao's smile was both gentle and resolute as he declined your offer. "no need," he replied, "you should sleep as soon as you get home. i'll be fine." his caring demeanor and genuine concern for your comfort and well-being resonated deeply with you, and you nodded in understanding.

"you are home," minghao said gently, drawing you out of your reverie as you continued to stare at him.

"huh?" you responded, momentarily confused.

"we are here," he clarified, gesturing toward your building.

"oh," you murmured, realizing your distraction, and looked to your right to see your familiar apartment building. "well, thank you for the ride, hao. and good luck in paris."

"thank you. good night," minghao replied with a warm smile before you closed the car door behind you.

just like any other evening, minghao didn't leave until he saw you inside the building. the familiar routine and his unwavering consideration were a comforting friend that you had come to rely on, and as you watched his car drive away, you felt a wave of gratitude for his presence in your life.

entering your unit, you felt far from tired. the drive with minghao had been a peaceful interlude in your life, much like any other evening you spent with him. the sense of comfort and contentment that his presence brought was a cherished part of your routine, a bright spot in your week that had transformed your evenings into moments of warmth, friendship, and music. you couldn't help but reflect on how, from a chance meeting at the local pub, a beautiful friendship had blossomed, filling your life with unexpected joy and connection.

the morning you woke up, it was an ordinary thursday. it began just like any other day, with your familiar routine of going on a peaceful walk, visiting your favorite bakery, and then returning to your apartment to spend the day in peaceful solitude. everything seemed as it usually was.

however, a subtle sense of unease crept in when you realized there was no "good morning" text from minghao. at first, you found it strange, but then it dawned on you that he had a flight today. he always turned his phone to airplane mode during flights, and that was why the expected message was missing.

despite knowing the reason, a slight feeling of emptiness lingered, reminding you of the importance of this daily interaction with your friend. it was a small but significant absence, a reminder of how much minghao had become a part of your daily life, even when he was miles away.

as the hours passed by, you found yourself preoccupied with various activities, but a part of your mind remained fixated on the absence of minghao's messages. then, finally, you noticed his name appearing in your notifications. a wave of relief washed over you, accompanied by a sense of anticipation as you eagerly opened the message, hoping for some news or even a brief update about his journey.

the moment you saw minghao's name appear in your notifications, a surge of joy washed over you, and you couldn't help but express your elation. silently, you let out a muffled scream, as if you were a teenager who had just received a message from their crush. the feeling was overwhelming, and you found yourself rolling on your bed, a giddy smile on your face, relishing the simple yet profound joy of seeing his message.

it was as if the day had suddenly transformed from ordinary to extraordinary, all because of a few lines of text from minghao. the anticipation of hearing from him and the reassurance that he was safely on the other side of the flight were like a warm embrace, filling your heart with a sense of comfort and connection. it was moments like these that made you truly appreciate the friendship you shared and the special place minghao had carved out in your daily life.

“this is a scheduled text. if you received this, i have already landed in paris. i love you, take care.” the message read.

as you read the message from minghao, the words "i love you" leapt out, catching you off guard and leaving you momentarily stunned. the audacity of his heartfelt expression, conveyed through a scheduled text, brought forth a mix of emotions. there was a sense of disbelief at the timing and manner of his declaration, tinged with a hint of annoyance at his boldness to express such sentiments from afar.

yet, despite these conflicting emotions, a warm and giddy feeling enveloped you. his words had a way of transcending the distance between you, bridging the gap created by the physical miles. minghao's unexpected proclamation served as a reminder of the deep bond you shared, one that had blossomed from the simple moments and shared experiences, transforming into a connection that was as sincere as it was unexpected.

just as you were processing minghao's heartfelt message, your phone began to ring, and you were taken completely by surprise when you saw the caller's name – the owner of the pub. this unexpected call brought forth a rush of questions and curiosity, leaving you to wonder what could have prompted this sudden and surprising contact from your boss, joshua hong.

“seokmin said you are friends with minghao. you might want to come to yoon medical center.”

“what?”

the owner's cryptic words and the mention of minghao's name left you in a state of bewilderment. it was as if the ground had shifted beneath your feet, and you were struggling to comprehend the gravity of the situation. what had happened to minghao? why were you being summoned to the medical center? the flood of questions raced through your mind, each one more unsettling than the last.

as you rushed to the yoon medical center, the world seemed to blur around you. the streets and buildings became a mere backdrop to your racing thoughts, all focused on minghao's well-being. you couldn't help but replay your last moments with him in your mind, the excitement of his safe arrival in paris now overshadowed by the nagging uncertainty of his current condition. the bond you had shared with him had taken root in your heart, and the fear of losing it, even for a moment, was almost too much to bear.

when you arrived at the medical center, the reality of the situation hit you with full force. the bustling of medical personnel, the hushed conversations, and the sterile scent of the hospital environment all added to the growing sense of dread that clenched at your chest. you couldn't help but wonder what had transpired, and as you made your way through the unfamiliar corridors, the suspense and anxiety intensified, a heavy weight on your shoulders that seemed to grow with every step you took.

the owner of the pub, joshua, explained the grim situation after a few moments of somber silence. "he never made it to the airport," he began, his voice heavy with sorrow. "a drunk driver hit him on the road not too far from your apartment, and doctor yoon said he didn't make it alive at the hospital as there was too much bleeding."

the words hit you like a tidal wave, and your world seemed to shatter in an instant. the shock and disbelief washed over you, leaving you struggling to process the devastating news. minghao, your friend and confidant, who had brightened your evenings and shared in your daily routine, was gone, a victim of a tragic accident that had torn him away from your life.

tears welled up in your eyes, and the weight of grief settled on your heart. the bond you had shared with minghao had grown deeper and more meaningful with each passing day, and now, you were left grappling with the harsh reality of his sudden and untimely departure. the sense of loss was overwhelming, and you couldn't help but feel a profound emptiness in the absence of your friend and the simple yet cherished moments you had shared.

joshua's words resonated deeply, and he continued, "he was also my friend. when he found out about his trip to paris, he told me to give this to you a day before his flight so you'd have something to talk about."

in his hands, joshua held out a piece of brown tissue paper, and as you accepted it, you were met with a moving sight. it was the same brown tissue paper that minghao had been sketching on that evening. the image portrayed you, sitting on a stool in the middle of the stage, your guitar in hand, captured with intricate detail. it dawned on you that he had been watching you that very evening, his artistic portrayal a testament to the shared moments you had on that stage.

as you gazed at the drawing, a mixture of emotions washed over you. it was a beautiful and poignant memento that encapsulated minghao's presence in your life.

the world became a blur that thursday. joshua insisted on driving you home, a gesture of comfort and support, which you declined. you felt the need to be alone, to process the shock and grief in solitude.

he also suggested that you didn't have to perform on friday, understanding the emotional toll of the recent events. however, you firmly declined that offer as well. performing at the local pub on friday was not just about money; it was your connection to minghao, a way to honor his memory, and a source of solace in your time of loss. it was your lifeline, and you couldn't bear the thought of letting it go, even in the face of such profound sadness.

the days ahead held uncertainty, but the routine of the pub, the music, and the memories of your time with minghao were the anchors that would help you navigate the turbulent seas of grief.

joshua and seokmin stood by your side, offering their support and presence as you navigated the difficult hours following the heart-wrenching news about minghao. their unwavering companionship served as a source of comfort during a time of profound grief.

the following evening, you found yourself back at the local pub, a place where all your cherished memories of minghao had gathered. the stage, the familiar audience, and the music had always been your sanctuary, and it was there that you sought solace and a way to honor your friend's memory.

stepping into the center of the stage, you began to sing, your voice laced with emotions that ran deep. the lyrics spoke of your sorrow, and you poured your heart into the song. the audience may not have been aware of the tragedy you were enduring, but there was an unusual silence that enveloped the room, as if they could sense the heaviness in your voice.

“i’m singing at a funeral tomorrow..

for a kid a year older than me.”

as you continued to sing, the weight of your emotions became almost unbearable. you felt a disconnection from the world, a profound sense of loss that threatened to consume you.

“jesus christ, i’m so blue all the time

and that’s just how i feel

always have and always will

always have and always will.”

grateful for the concealing embrace of the heavy red curtains, you completed the song, your spirit broken but your determination to carry on as strong as ever. the local pub had always been a place that carries peace, but now it cradles your insurmountable grief, maybe it's a good thing that you decided to perform this friday because on this night, it served as a poignant tribute to a friend whose memory would forever echo in the music and the moments you shared.

LOL advance happy birthday minghao

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yallmakemyassitch · 9 months

Text

Lapdog

Summary: Mrs. Mulberry equips the help of someone quite unexpected while in the midst of tormenting her dear companion

Word count: 1168

Character count: 6628

Tobi talks: for you my nigga @yarnprism

✿

“W-wait! Wahahahit!” Kevin cackled, tugging desperately at his arms held high above his head. He screeched and tossed back and forth in Mrs. Mulberry’s lap, his head laid comfortably on her thighs. She chuckled lowly at her victim, effortlessly pinning the candyman down while two disembodied gloved hands dug and kneaded into the hollows of his armpits.

He almost screamed when the fingertips began to drill into the sensitive flesh, it really was a bad idea to wear a tank top today, especially when she came over to visit. “Plehehease I cahahan’t take it!” Kevin pleaded, his face already a deep red.

She smacked her lips and cooed at him. “Poor poor, Kevin… It seems you were just a little too ticklish today, hm?”

Kevin was going to respond but ended up arching his back once the pair of hands began to knead into his ribs. His laughter turned silent when they vibrated in his lower set of ribs, rapidly digging into the bone. Kevin began to snort and thrash around even harder, much to the amusement of the British women.

“How cute~” The woman cooed, leaning down and kissing the man on the tip of his nose.

“I’M GOHOHANNA DIE!” The candyman begged, the heat now reaching everywhere from the tip of his nose to down his neck.

Mrs. Mulberry almost rolled her eyes. “Now don’t be foolish, Kevin… You won’t perish in my care.”

Kevin didn’t respond and only continued to peddle his legs in the air and tug desperately at his wrists, now that the hands were counting his ribs each row at a time like they were conscious and knew what they were supposed to be doing right now. Agonizingly, no matter where he squirmed, they were pressing their index fingers hard into the sweet spots of pudgy flesh between the bone. They did it on cinc, each moving a row with the other until eventually making it to the top and lingering there, now waggling their fingertips into the hardly protected skin.

The candyman was on the verge of tears and his vision was beginning to get a little blurry. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

“But if you want to experience a thing such as death, then I suppose I could simulate it for you.”

Mrs. Mulberry suddenly piped up. The hands on his ribs stopped so he could finally look up at her, donning a silly smile with flushed cheeks. “Ehehehe…what?”

Another pair of disembodied hands manifested themselves right before his eyes and gripped onto his wrists when Mrs. Mulberry let go, her hands now free. Kevin held his breath when shestarted at his wrists, lightly teasing the smooth skin before tracing to his elbows. How he tried to protect himself by trying to curl into a ball was even more adorable than he was now.

“Tickle tickle~” The Brit teased, tracing circles around the small of his bone and into the crook of his arms before eventually making it to his biceps. He reacted strongly and giggled profusely when her fingers slowly dragged up and down the pale flesh. “Heheheheeh! Fuhuhuhuck!”

The Brit then made it to the hollows of his underarms, keeping her claws posed right above them, leaving the candyman on edge.

“Oh Kevin?” He heard her croon.

“Y-yehehehes?” He giggled.

“Do me a favor and laugh for me~” She didn’t waste another second and dove down into the sensitive pits, flexing her fingers into every crevice of the area. The hands on his upper torso resumed, now resorting to squeezing and kneading each side of his ribcage with no intent of stopping.

Kevin was in stitches, throwing his head back and expelling his beautiful laughter into the wide area of her living room.

“PLEHEHEASE STAHAHAP!” He quite literally couldn’t take it, it was just too much for him!

Mrs. Mulberry leaned down, almost to the point where the two were touching noses. “Oh, but that wasn't even the best part, my love.”

Luckily the missus slowly let up and called off the hands going to town on his torso, allowing him a moment of respite as greedily gulped down breaths of air. Kevin went limp, his head sinking further into her thighs as he relaxed from his high. The Brit kissed the top of his forehead and cheek, getting a quiet laugh out of him. This moment of calm was ruined the moment Mrs. Mulberry hooked her arms under his.

The candyman didn’t quite process this in time as he found himself squirming in her grip, giggling nervously. “Wahahait! Nohohot again!”

Mrs. Mulberry seemed highly amused but didn’t say anything, only looking up to whistle. She was calling something, someone and it didn’t take long for this someone to be revealed as their pattering footstep could be heard from the distance. Kevin was left immensely confused when this person turned out not to be a person at all, but an incredibly fluffy and adorable white dog.

They pattered up to their owner and graciously accepted the affectionate hand scratching behind their ear.

“That’s a good boy, Maximus~” The British woman praised, seemingly elated by his presence. Maximus looked thrilled to be around her but his attention was diverted to the man being held hostage in her arms. He turned his snout towards him and sniffed at his neck.

Kevin smiled at the sweet dog and chuckled when the samoyed lapped at his cheek. Everything was going well until Mrs. Mulberry suddenly pulled at the hem of his shirt, exposing his entire belly. Chills ran down his neck once he realized what the British woman was planning.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself to him?” Mrs. Mulberry purred, going back to restraining the candyman.

Kevin gulped nervously and laughed nervously once he realized what was going to happen.

“That’s a good boy, no need to get hasty now…”

Maximus stared at him panting and looked up and down his body, discovering the vulnerable patch of flesh. The smooth, pale skin shivered when he put his nose up to it and snuffled. Kevin didn’t know how something so silly could tickle so badly, thousands of tiny hairs were grazing all over his sides and the top of his belly as Maximus tried to make himself acquainted with the candyman.

“Aw, he’s giving you kisses~” The Brit cooed. Kevin could say otherwise as he’d never giggled so hard in his life. His cheeks were burning and he was smiling so hard it hurt.

“Mahahahax stahahap!” Kevin pleaded, arching his back when the wet nose booped at his navel. Mrs. Mulberry gasped and the dog stopped, turning towards the candyman as he laughed nervously. Did he do something wrong?

“He doesn’t like it when people call him that…”

Just before he could respond, the noirette shrieked when the insanely fluffy samoyed nuzzled furiously into his flesh, briefly nipping the skin. Kevin wasn’t sure how much longer he could take

it but he would have to endure his punishment.

✿

Fin~

#sm tickles #oc tickling #lee kevin #tickle monster #ler maximus #oc #spooky month #my fic #quick fic #tickle fic #i need sleep #got this idea while drawing yesterday lmao

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f4iryjeons · 2 years

Text

protect you from myself. 🎃 (M)

Ghostface jk x reader

genres: ESTABLISHED AU (obviously...) , horror?, this is basically the first scream movie, kinda very yandere, there’s a minor amount of smut idek if it could be called smut.

warnings: murder, blood, yandere themes, jk is the king of gaslighting, describes unprotected sex, creepy neighbor, character death, jk low-key highkey almost gives the reader a concussion, I think he grabs her hair and licks blood from her head like once..., description of how jk loves 2 kill, jk fighting intrusive thoughts, jk kinda takes advantage of reader. knives!

an: im in a halloween-y mood, and I rewatched scream and I just had to...

w/c: 7.7k

Things were getting hot. You could only focus on the warmth of Jeongguk’s body. His hands, his chest, his breath. Everything was so warm. His fingers left goosebumps in their path. His determined fingertips glazed your skin as they traveled up your skirt gradually. He’s testing the waters. He knows you want to wait until prom, but he can’t seem to obey. As much as he appears to agree with you, his mind and body are begging for other things. How can you be so cruel? You were such a tease. What did you expect? He’s a young 18-year-old boy who has needs, needs you keep toying with. You rocked your hips against the growing lump in his jeans, causing him to groan. “Don’t stop.” he sighs against your lips. His hands are now boldly gripping your ass. He swears he’s about to ascend to heaven.

The sounds of laughter and loud music were drowning out as you slowly slipped into the two of you, more and more. You and Jeongguk have been bathing in each other’s desire for almost a year now. You highly appreciate his patience. Most boys probably would dump you the moment you told them you wanted to wait to have sex. That’s how you knew it was real. He wasn’t in it for your body; he actually liked you.

You’re snatched out of your little world after a loud shriek seeped through the thin walls of the bedroom. Reluctantly, you pull away from him, placing your hands on his shoulders when he tries to chase you. You’re straddling him, his hands up your mini skirt and yours entangled in his hair. “What was that?” You mumble to him, looking down at him with alarm. “Someone probably drunk or something.” Jeongguk dismissed and leaned in to kiss you once again. Your lips met for a moment before you were pulling away again. “Kook, that sounded like Emily.” You were pulling away from him again, unable to shake the sound of her scream. He sighs, visibly annoyed. He’s about to dismiss it again when multiple screams erupted from the halls, and you were both quick standing to your feet and shooting out of the room.

The both of you come out to a large crowd of people swarming the bathroom. They were standing over what looked like someone passed out in the bathtub, but it was much darker than that. You glimpsed into the bathroom for a second, seeing the scene much clearly. You gasped, falling into Jeongguk’s chest when you saw Sara’s lifeless body laying in the bath, the tub overflowing with her own blood.

The next day at school everyone was talking: “did you see her body?” “I heard her throat was slit.” And the worse you’ve heard: “the killer was at the party.” Crazy theories about what happened to her aren’t all that haunt you. The fact that someone would do it is what shakes you up. Her murder wasn’t an accident, and it wasn’t meant to be kept a secret. It causes shivers to rush down your spine.

You were strolling through the quad when Nayeon put her arm around you. “Jesus Yn, you look like shit! Did you sleep last night?” She asked, noting the bags under your eye from your lack of sleep. “No, how could you? Our friend was murdered.” You reply, your eyes following all the police cars and news vans parked at the school. “I heard her organs were floating in the tub.” Nayeon uttered, looking at you for any type of reaction. She giggles at your disturbed expression. “Jesus Nayeon, she died just yesterday!” You exclaim in disbelief at the brunette’s insensitivity. “Well, I’m just saying what I heard. I heard Roseanne is grounded for life.” Nayeon gossips. “I mean, someone got gutted in their bathtub at a party, so, yeah, her parents are pretty pissed.” she adds and looks at you. She’s waiting for you to say anything, but you don’t. She fills the silence. “Everyone’s being interrogated. What’s your alibi?” Nayeon winks at you, she tries to ease the discomfort racing through you. “Hm? Fucking Jeongguk in the master room?” She taunts, pinching at your waist, causing you to shy away from her. You push her hands away.

“No, we did nothing, not that it’s your business, anyway.” You say, and she looks at you with a bewildered expression.

“What?! The two of you have been dating for eight freaking months. Yn, what’s up with this weird waiting game? Still trying to see if he’s the one?’’ she asks, as the both of you stop at your lockers. “He doesn’t mind waiting. It’s not a big deal for us.” you shrug, opening your locker. You try to ignore the haughty giggle that leaves her.

“You actually believe that? Oh Yn, too naïve... Just remember if he’s not getting it from you, he’s getting it from somewhere else. He’s a boy, after all.”

Silence takes over you. Unable to bring yourself to reply, you become fixed in your mind. There’s no way Jeongguk is like that. He’d never cheat on you because he loves you. Nayeon doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You wish you could wholeheartedly believe your own assurance, but it just feels like you’re trying to convince yourself to being blind. You slowly realize the fact that Jeongguk was capable of lying to you, even if you didn’t want to.

You jump at the feeling of arms wrapping around your waist, but you soon melt into the familiar embrace that was Jeongguk. Taehyung is lifting Nayeon into the air and twirling her around; she lets out a surprised squeal and smiles at him brightly.

“What’re you two talking about?” Taehyung asks, pecking Nayeon on the cheek. “What everyone else is talking about. ‘The slaughter of Sara Barnes‘” Nayeon quoted, pulling out the school newspaper from her locker. Taehyung laughs, taking it out of her hand as he opens it up. “Damn, has anyone talked to Jae?” Jeongguk asks, and the both of you shrug. “Dude, Jae and Sara were broken up.” Taehyung answers, and Nayeon scoffs.

“Did you hear what happened to her body? She was completely mutilated.” Taehyung murmurs, a dark glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer to the group. Taehyung’s dad was the sheriff. Of course, he had all the gruesome details of her death. He didn’t care about the seriousness of the events, that was clear. “Stop Tae, Yn doesn’t like it.” Nayeon swats his shoulder. Taehyung just looks at you, a sinister smirk on his lips. “She was stabbed 56 times. She was dead since the party started,” Taehyung whispered, despite Nayeon’s protesting. You glare at Taehyung with a horrified look and he just chuckles. Jeongguk tells him off, pulling you closer into him. “If you ask me, I think Jae did it. Stabbed that many times? It’s personal.” Taehyung whispers, eyeing the passing students in the hallways. “Shut up Tae, you watch too many movies.” Nayeon mumbles, grabbing her books and closing her locker, right when the bell rings. There’s a spike of anxiety at the thought of a student running around with blood on their hands. Why did it feel like no one was taking this seriously? Jeongguk is walking you to class when you finally speak up. “Is it true?” You look up at him, and he looks back, confused. “Is what true?” He smiles at you. “What Tae said. Was she actually dead the whole time?” You ask, stopping as the two of you reach your class. “Babe, don’t worry about it, okay? I gotta go, Mr. Kim and his dumbass stats class.” He kisses the top of your forehead and walks off. Once again, dismissed. How could people live so normally after everything? They could be sitting right next to the killer and all everyone worried about was how this would affect them. Curfew was put into place and all people cared about was the lack of partying that would occur the rest of the week.

You could barely write anything on your paper, and it’s not like the teacher expected the class to. What happened was horrible, shocking. It had the whole town in shambles. During class, you’re called into the principal’s office to have your interview with the police.

“You were friends with Sara?” The officer asks and you nod. “Since we were in second grade.” You mumble, looking at your lap. “Did she have any issues with anyone?” He asks and you shrug. “Not that I know of, of course, her on and off-again boyfriend Jae, but other than that I don’t know, but he wouldn’t do something like that. They love each other.” You explain, the officer nods and the principal allows you to leave.

“I heard Roseanne is the number one suspect.” Taehyung gossips, causing you to look up at him with disdain. You’re laying on Jeongguk’s lap, his hands are combing through your hair and his back is against the tree as the four of you sit in the grassy quad of your campus. The day is pretty despite the circumstances. The sun is shining and birds are chirping. There’s a slight drift in the wind to contrast against the sun’s merciful rays. “How could they make that decision with no evidence?” Nayeon questions, munching on her carrots.

“In the interrogation, Jae had a full-blown breakdown and admitted to having an affair with Rose. Jae said Sara likely knew and planned to expose the two of them. How convenient is it for Sara to be found dead in Rose’s house?” Taehyung explains, and Jeongguk tilts his head, eyes squinting because of the sun. You continue to hold your silence. If Roseanne was the one who killed Sara, why’d she throw a party the day she died? Why’d she leave in the bathroom for all to see? It just makes little sense. You sit up abruptly. “Rose…” you whisper and Jeongguk hugs you tight from behind, only loosening his hold to rest his head on your shoulder. “I mean… I didn’t think Rose would kill someone out of all people, but we never know, do we?” Jeongguk says. His fingers toy with yours gently as he places a soft kiss on your neck.

Both you and Jeongguk are walking home when you speak. “Hey Kook?” You asked, and he hums in response. “My parents are going to some event out-of-town tonight and they’ll be gone all weekend, and I don’t really feel safe with everything going on, and I was wondering if you could stay the night?” You propose and shy away, thinking he’d say no, but to your surprise, he’s nodding. “Yeah, I’m glad you asked.”

Jeongguk had gone home to grab some of his things when you received the message. ‘Parents are being a bitch, gotta sneak out, you know, deadly killer out and all.’

You chuckle, placing your phone back on your desk as you continue to do your homework. Soon it rings and without a second thought, you answer it. ‘‘Jeongguk just wait-’’ —“Hello?” The voice shocks you as you realize the person you’re on the phone with sounds nothing like your boyfriend. The voice is eerie,deep, and scratchy. “Who’s this?” You ask, mindlessly going back to doing your homework. “That’s not important Yn.” The voice states and, as if everything froze, you stop writing. “Seriously, who are you?” You say, this time more firmly. You’re standing up, glancing out of your open bedroom window, hoping it's Taehyung playing one of his stupid pranks. “What’s your favorite scary movie?” he questions and you freeze before you’re relaxing in the thought that Taehyung is on the other end. You sigh, “I don’t know? Nightmare On Elm Street.” You answer, sitting on your bed. “Hmm, which one?” He inquires. “1984.. the first one” you entertain his questions, it’s entertaining he’s trying to sound scary by asking what your favorite scary movie was. He needs to step it up. The voice hums, pleased with your answer. “Classic, I see you have taste…” he compliments, and you roll your eyes. “Your parents are gone… is that reminding you of something?” The voice quizzes, an eerie feeling bubbles within you. Jeongguk must’ve let it slip you were going to be alone tonight.

“I don’t know? Look, Taehyung can you stop? This is getting boring.” You sigh, laying back on your bed, eyes closing. There’s an ominous chuckle on the other end of the phone. “This isn’t Taehyung.” they state. You roll your eyes, “Yeah, whatever.” You close your eyes once again, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips. “Do you remember Sara?” The voice continues and you find a voice in you to speak. “This isn’t funny.” You whisper into your phone. “You should check your back doors more often. Your mom is so careless.” Like a switch was flipped, your eyes fly open and you sit up. Your breathing becomes heavy as you stare at your closed door. “Is your door unlocked?” The voice asks what seems like the thousandth question that night. Soon you hear heavy footsteps creeping up the stairs. You bolt to your bedroom door, locking it in a haste and backing up to your open window. You realize too late that your curtains weren’t drawn, and the streetlight was shining in. They could’ve easily been watching you this entire time. You rush to lock your door, timidly you retreat until your back is touching the wall across from the door.

You hang up the phone, quickly dialing 911. The first few rings feel like ages. It’s taunting you. The operator finally answers and you don’t even let them finish their greeting. “Help me please, there’s someone trying to get into my room.” You whisper, voice trembling and pupils shaking as you stare at the shadow approaching the door. You cry out when the operator asks for your name and address. “F-fuck okay, it’s 7663 Milsview Road, Yn Ln. Please hurry..” The operator’s voice fades away when you learn the call has been dropped. Your eyes widen in confusion as you try to dial again and again, but nothing.

You let out a loud scream when the doorknob rattles violently. The phone falls out of your shaking hands, and you don’t care enough to get it. Your heart is going at a thousand miles per hour. There’s a cloud of uncertainty that hangs over your head, that you could die tonight pouring over you. You look at the ground from your window. It’s a long way down, and if you were to jump, you’d likely break bones, or die. Still, that was better than being butchered by the psycho currently trying to get into your room. But what if you do jump and break your legs? What if they come down and brutally murder you? This can't be it. You can't fight the tears that spill, you feel so helpless. You don’t know why anyone would want to hurt you. You were nice to everyone, did nothing, and mostly kept to yourself. What if you died for no reason? The thought causes another wave of emotions to take over you. Dying just for the satisfaction of the killer — that was a waste. Surely, your life meant more than that. The jiggling didn’t stop, and neither did your cries as you hide your face with your hands in defeat. “Yn?!” The proximity of your boyfriend’s voice makes you scream—launching yourself away from the window.

The boy was crawling through your bedroom window. The killers attempt to get in stops once Jeongguk enters your room. He closes the window before crouching down to comfort you. “What’s wrong?” He asks, pulling you closer to his chest. ‘‘Jeongguk, there’s someone out there- please we- “you cried, unable to properly form sentences. Fear keeps its home within you and it’s getting pretty cozy. Scared isn’t enough to describe it. You're fucking petrified—traumatized even. Grabbing onto his arm in dread, you try to calm your shaking hands. Jeongguk’s jaw is locked as he stared at your door. Soon he was storming out of your room. “Jeongguk! No, please, what if he’s still there?” You wailed, standing to your feet and rushing after him. As you attempt to chase him down the stairs, your legs are on the verge of giving out. You watch him shutting your front door and locking it, jaw still locked and eyes conveying a dark look. “Are you okay?” He asks, still staring at your front door. You nod, falling into his arms. He grips you, almost suffocating.

“Open your eyes and look at me.” He orders, hands on your cheeks and a hard kiss to your lips. You do as he’s says. “No one is going to hurt you.” He promises, kissing your tears away. You can only nod at his words and hope it’s true.

You’re exhausted. The cops came around ten minutes later and proved themselves to be utterly useless. They only found a cellphone jammer and said it was likely a prank. You refuse to sleep, even with Jeongguk trying to reassure you.

“Yn, it’s okay.. no one is going to hurt you.” He soothes, massaging your back. You groan, shaking your head and turning to him. “It’s not that easy…” you’re annoyed. Everyone acts like everything about this was so easy. He sighs, “I know, I’m sorry..” He mutters, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“Why don’t I help you relax?” He offers, his hands trailing up to your shoulders, where he resumes the massage he was giving you. You turn around so your back is facing him to allow him to massage the fear out of you.

“Did It work?” Taehyung asks, head hanging out of the window of Jeongguk's parent’s car, allowing the wind to drift through his hair. “No, it didn’t, actually. It was fucking stupid, made things worse.” Jeongguk hisses and Taehyung winces at his angered tone. “Fuck.. look, I thought scaring her would work? Then you could go make her feel safe and she’d put out.” Taehyung explains, rubbing his hands through his hair in frustration. “Well, It didn’t. You know how much convincing I had to do to get her to come to this party?” Taehyung rolls his eyes at Jeongguk’s complaining.

“Did you kill Mr. Shane?” Taehyung asks, ignoring Jeongguk’s ranting. “Yeah, the guy was a fucking weirdo. No one’s gonna miss him.” He shrugs.

When all of this started, Taehyung and Jeongguk were 15 years old. They never meant to start this killing bullshit the first time was an accident. Taehyung’s mother was seeing this asshole, and the guy hit his sister. Taehyung and Jeongguk tried to confront the guy and Jeongguk ended up killing the guy.

You wouldn’t understand. Some people had to fucking die for things to be better. Sara? She hated you. She was the one who told everyone about your father leaving you in Sophomore year, yet you never found out who was behind it. Just like her mother, she was a slut.

Jeongguk is weird. He’s different. Everyone makes jokes about signs someone is a psychopath. Like pouring your milk before your cereal or standing up to pick a pencil up. What about the actual signs? Some are too easy to go unnoticed. The scariest thing about him is his ability to appear so normal.

Even though Jeongguk is weird. On the surface, he’s the opposite. He’s athletic. After all, he is the star quarterback of Woodsboro. He’s smart, gets straight As. He’s creative, he enjoys drawing and is actually great at it. He’s funny. If he wanted to, he could be a comedian. He has friends; he has a girlfriend; he has admirers. He’s good looking, seriously good looking. He’s competitive, but rational. He’s playful, but level-headed. He’s passive, but not a doormat.

On the inside, Jeongguk fears himself. He fights himself constantly. There’s always a violent sea in his mind, thoughts he can’t even imagine anyone thinking. Jeongguk has always felt these things, ever since he was just a kid. The pressure to be the perfect first born was on his back. His father was a successful businessman in Woodsboro, his father was well respected, his family was respected. They were a powerful family. He couldn’t imagine if anything came out about the Jeon’s first born being a little psycho.

He could suppress it until his mother and younger sister died in a car accident. “Bad breaks,” they said. After that, all his progress went to shit. Jeongguk didn’t understand why he preferred gore sites over the typical porn site most boys his age frequented. He didn’t understand why he got too excited when his father asked him to go hunting, why he got a kick out of stalking the unsuspecting animal, and the high he felt when he had to catch the animal. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t stomach any other movies but horror. He couldn’t grasp why he loved looking up serial killers, their methods, photos, anything he could get. It’s not like he was numb, he wasn’t completely heartless, he felt incredibly guilty for all the animals he’s killed, he feels guilty for the thoughts he has. It’s not like he only thought of all the ways he could get away with homicide. He had other thoughts too, just some more concerning than others.

He had feelings. He really fucking liked you. A lot. Maybe he’s not at that level of psychopath where he’d kill anyone for even glancing at you, but he’d surely gut anyone who dared to hurt you, He understands if you’d hate him if you found out what he really is.

He did experience hormones. In fact, the top thing in his mind was usually sex. Now, with his good looks and popularity, it was obvious he wasn’t a virgin. Actually, he lost it when he was in his freshman year of high school. That doesn’t matter, though. All he thinks about is defiling you. He loves how innocent you are. It gives him a rush. He’s ashamed by the urge of wanting to hunt you, scare you badly until you’re nothing but an obedient mess in his hands. He wants you to fear him; he wants you to put your life in his hands, to understand only he could allow you to live or not. It was sick, he knew, but he couldn’t stop. All he wants is to fuck you. He doesn’t know if he could wait any longer.

Two weeks ago

Three knocks on your bedroom window signal the much awaited arrival of your boyfriend. You glance back at your bedroom door, then you’re making your way to unlock the window, inviting the waiting boy in.

He wonders if you know what he’d just done. He wonders if you would forgive him.

He leans into you, pecks your lips, climbing into your bedroom and locking the window. “You waited on me.” He says aloud, his hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you into him. “Of course I did.” You whisper, placing your hands on his chest. He always smelled so good, like fresh laundry.

“Yn?” There are two knocks that follow the voice of your mother. Jeongguk is already making his way into your closet when you’re opening your bedroom door. “Yeah?” you answer. She’s in her nightgown, hair pinned up and a glass of water in her hand. “Are you okay? I thought I heard talking.” She says, peeking into your room and looking around. “Nope, just me. It was probably my TV or something.” you point behind you at the TV playing some show you weren’t really paying attention to. “Oh.. get some sleep baby, it’s late.” She’s sighing, kissing your forehead and walking off down the hall.

“Get some sleep, baby.” Jeongguk’s whisper of a voice is hitting your neck, causing you to jump at his suddenness. His arms are around your midriff, and his lips are finding your neck in a slow haste. He pulls you into him — your backside meeting his front as he sucks and licks at your neck. He grins against your skin when you’re letting out a quiet mewl. How could you not?

The ticklish feeling of his tongue meeting your neck was giving you goosebumps.

You feel his hands traveling to your thighs, and slowly under your nightgown. You let him explore for a moment, his fingers landing on the front of your underwear, just centimeters from grazing your clit when you’re stopping him.

You chuckle at his groaning, turning around to face him. “What’re you doing Koo?” You giggle, standing on your toes to place a kiss on his nose. “Yn~ you’re such a tease, it’s unfair.” He whines, backing up until his legs are hitting your bed. He plops down, his hair bouncing gently from the swift motion.

“Two more months until prom.” You remind him, walking over to him and sitting on his lap. “That’s eight weeks Yn, eight weeks.” He replies, voice in disbelief. “Please? Just a little bit? Just the tip?” He’s begging, lips wet, and eyes glossy as he stares at you with puppy eyes. You let out a soft chuckle, climbing off of him and onto your bed. “You sound so greasy.” You say. You’re laying on your back, staring up at him, who’s sitting on your beside.

“Can we do other stuff, then?” He suggests, laying down and facing you. “Like what?” You smile, scooting closer to him. Your nose is just inches from his.

“Well, I can be vague or graphic, your call.” he says, voice low and inviting. You whisper “graphic” as you lean in to kiss him and he smiles. “I could eat you out, you could suck me off, or I could eat you out while you suck me off. Maybe I could finger you? Maybe you could give me a handjob, maybe at the same time?” Jeongguk is scooting closer and closer until your chest is against his, his arm is around your waist and pulling you into him.

“Or we could just dry hump.” he adds. His fingertips draw shapes on your exposed shoulder. “Or sleep?” You suggest, leaning away to let out a yawn.

Jeongguk sighs and chuckles in defeat. That night Jeongguk strangled your next-door neighbor. He watched as his life drained from his eyes and he loved every bit. The power, the control he had to take someone’s life gave him a rush he couldn’t describe. He needs you to fix him to calm him down. Only you can.

Your neighbor was announced to be killed by some drug dealer he’d gotten into a fight with at the bar a few weeks prior. Jeongguk laughs every time he reads the articles. How could they be so off? Your neighbor deserved it. He was a creep. Took pictures of your legs and photos of you changing. Jeongguk did what anyone else would.

He desperately wants to be your first, he wants to be the first and the only person to you see you so vulnerable. He needs you to give it all to him and only him. He wants you to be so whipped for him you can’t help but remember him. You can’t help but cling to him, and you can’t help but forgive him. He wants you and him to be inseparable. He wants to leave indelible marks and be the only thing you think about. He gets excited just thinking about it.

current

Timothy Crooks, the same boy who harassed you so badly he was suspended, twice. It boils Jeongguk’s blood. How dare he show his face anywhere after shamelessly making you feel so uncomfortable? How dare he? Timothy was an asshole pea-brained sicko on Jeongguk’s football team. He carelessly objectified every girl on campus, and he must’ve been a real fucking comedian to think he’d be able to do it to you. Even with your history, he still talks about you; Your body, what you’d be like in bed.

Jeongguk can’t stop the grin that appears on his face when Timothy goes down into the basement of Nayeon’s large home. He’s wearing that stupid letterman jacket that he’d likely doesn’t wash, and he’s whistling a song Jeongguk can’t take the time to decipher. As soon as he closes the basement door and descends the stairs. Jeongguk smiles underneath the ghost face mask. It’s a sick, twisted smile. He opens the basement door and follows him. He locks the door behind him.

He plays with the light switches, causing the jock downstairs to curse loudly. “Can you guys stop fuckin around?” He says through the darkness. The boy takes a few moments to find the lamp. He jumps, falling on his ass when he sees the cloaked figure standing in front of the staircase. He’s nursing a very sharp Bowie knife in his right hand. “W-what the fuck? That’s not even funny.” He stutters, too stunned to even stand to his feet. It’s amusing how long it takes for the flight or fight response to kick in. Jeongguk watches the boy's gaze at him curiously. It takes everything in him not to scoff. If this were a movie, Jeongguk would scream at his tv to fucking run, stand up, do something.

But no, he makes it boring, just lays there ready to die like livestock. Jeongguk takes a menacing step toward the boy, and he just stands there, waiting for a reaction. He grips the knife tightly, showing the boy that this was not a prank.

“H-hey stop joking like that with me man, I’ll fuck you up.”

Jeongguk tilts his head in amusement. Threatening to fuck up the daunting guy standing over you with a Bowie knife was a weird move, but at least it was something. Jeongguk takes another step toward the boy, who begins squirming backwards. “Just get up, fucking idiot.” Jeongguk can’t help but let the words slip from his mouth. As he straddles the boy, he doesn't give the boy a chance. He grips the knife tightly, plunging it into the boy’s chest. He pulls it out and watches the boy gasp for air, blood bubbling in his throat and spilling out of his mouth. The boy tries to get away, and Jeongguk tilts his head. He’s hanging by a thread, and Jeongguk stands up to allow him to pull himself against the brick wall of the dimly lit basement. He twirls the knife in his hands as takes disturbingly slow steps toward the boy. He does it for the rush that shoots up his veins when he sees the boy’s eyes widen in alarm. It’s so fucking good, better than any horror movie he’d ever seen by far. Every killer does it wrong, and he’s the only one here doing it right. He’s thinking he doesn’t kill for you, but he kills because he wants to. It’s his destiny to do this. It just feels so right. It’s like that of heaven to him. He enjoys watching his prey squirm. He enjoys seeing their determination to escape, but they won’t. There’s nothing he loves more than killing hope and watching it die in their eyes. He loves who he gets to be behind the mask. Who wouldn’t want to feel this? This power?

He’s not crazy, he’s just chasing a high, everyone does it.

He reaches the boy, grabbing a fist full of his hair. The way he cries out only fuels Jeongguk more.

You finally reach the party, even though you were reluctant to go. Nayeon only convinced you to come because she and Jeongguk would be there. When you arrived at the house, Nayeon is dragging you in, a smile on her face. You could tell she’d been drinking already. “Where’s Jeongguk?” You ask after she’s led you to the kitchen that’s filled with annoyed partygoers. “Where the fuck is Tim with the beer?” a girl groans over the music. “He’s probably passed out somewhere, fuckin’ lightweight.” A boy answers and the large group laughs. You cross your arms at the lack of Nayeon’s answer. “I dunno…” she shrugs after you call her name and repeat your question again. “He’s probably upstairs with Taehyung, shooting pool or something.” She adds, bringing a red cup she found on the counter to her lips. You wince in disgust. There’s no telling who’s lips were on that cup or what’s in it. You follow her guess and go upstairs where you surely bump into Taehyung, who is making his way down with an alarmed look on his face. “Woah, T you ok?” you ask, standing in front of him to block his way from getting down. “I just found Nayeon’s parent’s porn stash, so no I’m not okay.” He answers. “You must be looking for Kook. He’s in the billiards room playing 8 ball with Jack.” he adds and steps past you.

Walking into the billiards room, you sure enough spot Jeongguk whose eyes are on you the moment you are in the room. He drops everything he’s doing to come to you, ignoring the protests of Jack. “You’re here.” He states and you nod, “I am.”

“I didn’t expect you to come…” you sigh, “Nayeon begged me to.” You mumble, looking around the large room. “You wanna go somewhere else and talk?” He offers and you nod, taking his hand.

He leads you into a guest bedroom and closes the door, locking it.

He sits next to you on the satin sheets of the queen sized bed. “I can’t stop thinking about that night you were attacked Yn.” He says, looking down at the floor. Exhaling, you nod in agreement, “Me too.. it was really fucking scary, Kook, what if he comes back?” You ask, voice already breaking at the thought of you being targeted by the potential killer haunting your town. “He won’t.” Jeongguk states his tone is a little too confident, but you don’t notice. Instead, you fall into his chest, relishing in the security you feel in his arms.

“I won’t let anything happen to you Yn. I promise you don’t have to worry, you’re safe.” He’s stroking your hair gently, arms cradling your head as you take in his fresh smell. In this moment, all you can feel is comfort. You look up at him, coming face to face, lips barely touching his. “Thank you Kook.” You whisper, leaning in to kiss him. But he isn’t kissing you back and you pull back slowly. “What’s wrong?” He doesn’t answer. You call his name, finally catching his attention, and he deeply sighs. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m trying to take advantage of you.” But that’s exactly what he wants to do. You shake your head, grabbing his face to make him look at you. “You’re not.” You say, pecking his lips again. Jeongguk reciprocates the kiss this time. Overtime the two of you become more daring, a pattern he’s used to. But he’s determined to fuck you tonight. It has to happen. And truthfully, you want it just as much as he does too. Jeongguk is an amazing boyfriend, he cares about you and his patience astounds you. He’s mature and always handles you with care. You don’t really care about waiting until prom anymore. You know he loves you, and what he feels for you is real.

The two of you are in a heated kiss when you pull away, Jeongguk can feel disappoint form in his chest. “Kook.” His name is breathless on your lips. He hums in acknowledgement, lips ghosting over yours to make up for the absence of yours. “I think I’m ready..” you whisper. He’s been launched straight to the gates of heaven, but he hides his excitement. He nods, “You sure?” You better be. This wasn’t fucking funny. He needed you now. You nod, and that’s all it takes for him to kiss you with intensity. He straddles you and wastes no time stripping the both of you from your clothes. His lips never leave yours, and he’s getting needier and needier with each touch. His fingers trace over the untouched parts of your body as he touches you with the purpose of watching you fall apart. First on his fingers, then his tongue, and finally, his aching cock that’s been begging to be relieved for months.

It feels euphoric inside of you. Watching you writhe beneath him makes something animalistic stir inside of him. The whines that come from you give him every reason not to stop. He loses himself within the pleasure, and can feel an even darker presence creeping over him. He fights the urge to put his hands around your neck and choke you until you’re on the verge of death, begging him to stop. Just the thought alone makes him twitch inside of you. He tries to shake away the dark thoughts, and he does when finally comes, filling you up just like you were supposed to be. Made exclusive for him. That’s why he needed to protect you, but the dark truth was he needed to protect you from himself.

The two of you get dressed in silence. You don’t know if you did anything wrong, but after the two of you finished, he cleans you up with a rag he found in the bathroom of the bedroom then went silent. You bite your lip nervously. You don’t dare break the silence, you’re too scared to.

“Fuck..” Taehyung grunts. It’s way too hot in this mask and cloak and he’s regretting getting himself in so deep. In fear of what Jeongguk might do, he keeps it together. Everyone had left once they found out about the Mr. Shane being murdered. All cheering about not having to do anymore English essays. Nayeon didn’t make it easy. Taehyung loved her, he really did, but then she had to send nudes to K.C. Parker and now she needs to pay. She needs to just lie down to die. It’s too frustrating to chase her around the house. She’s screaming for help as she runs up the stairs, crying out for Taehyung to come save her. Jeongguk can hear her, and that means you can too.

The door bursts open and she’s covered in blood as she closes it and limps in. Your eyes widen and you rush to her. “What’s going on? Nayeon are you ok?” You question, checking for any wounds. “He’s trying to kill me!” she cries out, blood slipping out of her mouth. Jeongguk overflows with anger, fucking Taehyung, was he always so clumsy?

“We h-have to call 9—“ she coughs up a large amount of blood, and her legs become wobbly. You hold her up, her blood staining your palms as tears are sliding down your face. You’re too in shock to do anything. This couldn’t be happening. “Nayeon?!” You call her name out, hoping for a response. Jeongguk shoves you out of the way and there’s something large and black in his hand. It’s similar to a piece of cloth from where you stand. “Jeongguk?” You say and get no reply. His back is to you as he just stares at Nayeon and clicks his teeth in annoyance.

Like lightning strikes, he stabs the girl right in the stomach, and watches her fall to the ground helplessly. He turns around and looks at your horror-stricken face. You’re shaking, pupils shaking, heart going crazy. This felt amazing. He slides the ghost face mask he was holding on his face and begins walking toward you.

Your legs move on their own and make a run for the door. He lets you reach it because he knows who will stand at the other end. As soon as you open it, there’s another masked figure in a black cloak staring down at you. You back up, back hitting Jeongguk’s chest as he holds you in his suffocating embrace. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” Jeongguk sighs out, voice distorted, sounding similar to the person who attacked you that night.

You cry helplessly, struggling to get of his hold. His hand is loosely clutching the Bowie knife, and with a sudden rush of adrenaline, you know you have to grab it. He’s holding you tightly, constricting your arms, preventing you from going anywhere as he huffs in your scent shamelessly. “You fucked a serial killer. Tell me, how does it feel?” He taunts.

He lets you go, throwing you to the floor at the lack of an answer. He steps closer to you with the knife, gripping it as if he was preparing to gut something. You groan, your head hitting the harsh wood flooring and likely bleeding now.

As he’s pacing toward you, you find it in you to kick him in his knee, temporarily impairing him. He stumbles over for a moment, cursing as he cradles his knee. The other masked figure rushes to Jeongguk’s aid, and you take that as your cue to run. Your head is pounding as you sprint down the stairs. It takes everything in you to power through it. Adrenaline carrying you to the kitchen where you grab the largest blade in the knife block. You rush to the house phone, cursing when you find the lines have been cut.

“Where are you going?” The same daunting voice asks from behind you. He carelessly walks toward you, bloody knife in clutch. He’s wearing that stupid cloak, and he’s tilting his head in curiosity. You grip the knife tightly and push it into the guy’s chest. You don’t look back as you sprint to the front door, you ignore the disgruntled cries coming from the cloaked person. You try to rush to undo the locks, your hands trembling and blood trickles down the side of your head, constantly reminding you they want to hurt you.

Suddenly, your head is being banged against the door, and you almost feel yourself lose consciousness. You slide down onto the floor, holding your head as you cry out in pain. “You fucking bitch.” It’s Jeongguk. He’d ditched the mask and is now pacing over your injured form. He crouches down, bringing his knife face to face with you. “You kick me in my good knee, then almost kill my best friend?” He scoffs before he breaks out into maniacal laughter. “I wasn’t gonna kill you!” He suddenly shouts, grasping your hair roughly. “I was just gonna wave it around, maybe cut you a little, but I wasn’t going to kill you.” He says, leaning in to lick the trail of blood from your cheek to the temple of your head. “I just wanted to scare you.” He murmurs against your face. His adrenaline feeding from your cries and pleas for him to stop. His attention is turned to Taehyung who’s stumbling in the room, knife still in his chest. He falls against the wall. “F-fuck J… I t-hink I need an ambulance…” he stutters out. His mask is gone and there’s blood dripping from his mouth. “Shut up no you don’t.” Jeongguk hisses, turning his attention back to you. “I do!” Taehyung yells, “She went really deep, man.” He cries out, his mouth coated a crimson color. “Fuck! I think I’m dying!” He sobs as he slides against the wall. Jeongguk suspires and walks over to Taehyung. He couches down in front of him. “Save me a seat in hell, will you?” Jeongguk asks, tilting his head before he’s pulling the knife out of Taehyung’s chest. The boy cries out at the extraction of the blade. “Look what you did.” Jeongguk teases, walking over to you. You are barely conscious at this point. “Just don’t die.” Jeongguk says to Taehyung. He looks down at you briefly before he crouches down and slams your head onto the floor, knocking you out.

You wake up in a bed, your head killing you. You shoot up, clenching your head. All you know is you need to get out of here. “Baby! Woah!” Jeongguk says from next to you as he soothes you. You scream loudly, pushing him away from you. “What? What’s wrong?” He asks, tilting his head. He grabs your wrists to stop you from hitting him. “G-get away from me!” You scream. “Yn what’s going on?” He inquires, voice becoming louder than yours to silence you. “Y-you’re fucking crazy! You killed Nayeon and— “

“I didn’t kill anyone. What the hell are you talking about?”

The light in his bedroom turns on and his parents are coming into the room. “What’s going on? Is everything ok?” His stepmother asks. “She probably had a bad dream.” Jeongguk dismisses. “Yn, Nayeon is fine, the killer was caught. Everything is okay now.” Jeongguk assures, looking into your eyes. He’s lying. You watched Nayeon die in front of you. “B-but my head?” you mumble, placing your hand on your bandaged head. Jeongguk sighs, “A couple days ago the killer was at the party. He attacked us, but he’s gone now, ok?” Jeongguk explains. You still don’t believe him. How could you when everything seemed so vivid?

“Here, let’s call Nayeon and Taehyung.” Jeongguk suggests, grabbing his phone. You can’t believe he’d go this far to lie, but what if Nayeon and Taehyung answer? “Hello? Sorry for calling you guys this late. Yn wanted to check on you guys.” Jeongguk says, putting the phone on speaker. You can’t believe your ears when you hear Nayeon and Taehyung on the other end. You don’t know what to believe at this point. Jeongguk hangs up with a quick goodbye and pats your back. “The doctor said you’d be like this for a couple of days.” Jeongguk sighs, kissing your temple. You groan, reluctantly laying your head on the pillow. “The killer was Timothy Crooks. Turns out that sicko still had it out for you.” Jeongguk says as he rubs your back.

“But you’re safe now. No one can hurt you, no one will hurt you, ever.” Jeongguk states as he watches you fight falling asleep.

No one will hurt you, except maybe him.

#jeongguk #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk x reader fluff #jeongguk x reader smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader fluff #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts fluff #bts smut

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lucidreamer-uwu · 2 years

Note

heyhey!! Just wanna say you're really talented!! Also! can i request like a friends to lovers fic with leviathan or maybe belphie? if this is too much feel free to ignore, and have a great day ❤️

(Ps. can i be ☁️ anon?)

Final Boss Level with Leviathan

“MC STOP DYING ON ME!” Levi screams through laughs as he tries his best to reach your location in the game you were playing so that he could revive you.

Lucifer wasn’t home that night and wouldn’t be until morning. That meant that he wasn’t there to tell you off for staying up too late with your otaku best friend. That also meant that you were going to spend it, savor it, staying up all night.

“Levi!! HELP!” You scream, laughs bursting out of the both of you when you helplessly try to retreat as the enemy chases you down. “WAIT! Don’t die yet!” He echoes your laughter.

The night carried on with the two of you playing games, trying on different cosplays, and watching anime together. But when you settled down to read a manga side by side in his bathtub of a bed, that’s when things got serious.

You were reading one of the volumes of “Vegetables Basket” and stumbled upon an argument.

“This guy’s such a tsundere! I wish he would just tell her how he really feels” You’d complain to him, but he’d defend the character. “W-well that’s only because he thinks the girl’s super cool and that makes him nervous about telling her you know-!” He protests. Nevertheless, you both continue to read side by side.

Internally sighing, you try another attempt to send him a hint by commenting once more. “Don’t you think you should tell someone how you feel if you like them? It’s only fair, you know” You pout right at him, making it more obvious. Surely he gets it now right?

Why won’t he just tell me? You thought.

You knew that he was crushing on you, you’ve heard him talk in his sleep before. You were so happy when you found out that he felt the same way you did, but you wanted him to tell you right to your face. Otherwise, how could you ever know for sure?

He did know what you were talking about because he was aware that you knew. He wasn’t asleep when he confessed to you his feelings, he knew you were awake too, but the thought of acknowledging it short circuits his brain.

“Y-yeah, but still-!” he says lamely in reply, slightly blushing at you. You did nothing but frown at him, unamused. He’s really done it now.

You get up from bed and leave his room, telling him that you’d be back with some water for the both of you. He didn’t get the chance to tell you that there was still water in his little supply box because you were already out the door.

As you walk the halls to the kitchen, you recall the time you had confessed your feelings to Levi. It was quite a time ago, and you were still waiting on him. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t force it out of him, but did you have to wait forever?

When you return to Levi’s room holding two glasses of water, you see that the third born was holding a game controller and sitting in front of a screen. He looks at you, blushing, and asks if you wanted to play Yourcraft with him. You weren’t really in the mood to, but he was a little too eager to play this time, that it was almost suspicious.

Meanwhile, back at the room, Levi was stunned and internally crying. What was he doing? He knew you liked him, all he had to do was return your feelings right to your face! Why can’t he do it? “Come on, Levi! Get it together!” He scolds himself, and turns to Henry. “How can I possibly do it, Henry? Confessing to them face to face is like, FINAL boss level IRL!"

A pause of silence passes by and the avatar of envy gives a determined nod at his goldfish. "You're right! I should do it! Wish me luck, Henry!"

Giving in, you take the extra controller he offered you after setting down the glasses.

For a while it was normal, but then you start to notice Levi constantly glancing over to Henry. He often did that when he was nervous. What was he nervous about?

While you were distracted and lost in your thoughts, Levi had started building something that seemed random, and it was messing with your own creation. “Hey, move over, this is my spot!” You giggle, trying to break all the blocks he was placing in your area. But he wouldn’t stop, nor did he listen to you. He just continued racing you to placing blocks over your own. So much that you couldn’t catch up. “I swear Levi, if you keep messing with me, I will explode a TNT right here and right now, you dork!” You threaten, in a much better mood now. “If I can’t have this spot, no one can!” You let out a war cry.

You were about to release the explosives just when Levi called it quits and asked for a peace treaty. You agree after a few cake offerings from him to you, but before he let you take down his creation, he asks you to view it from above. You thought he was being mega sus, but once you did as he asked you to, you couldn’t say a word.

“I… Like you a lot…” He whispers, sounding extremely cool as you read the lines of his creation over yours that spelled the words I �� u.

“I-I…” You stutter, feeling the heat overtake your whole face. You tried to make it seem like you weren’t a flustered mess right now by turning to him and saying something, but the moment you turned your head, you were surprised to find that Levi’s face was RIGHT THERE. Your lips connected, you were both embarrassed with eyes as large as plates.

When I Wake Up with Belphegor

As if the same sides of a magnet, the two of you both repel, distancing yourselves away from the other. “Th-that was my first kiss!” You exclaim, covering your mouth, mirroring him. “M-m-m-me too!” He stutters.

Your lips were close and well within kissing range. All he had to do was close the distance and all the bottled-up feelings he had for you would be out in the open. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time now. His brothers were nowhere in sight, you two were alone, and the atmosphere was just right. It was the perfect opportunity. It’s now or never, he thought, and sealed it with a tender kiss.

The vision of you faded and the feeling of your lips departed from his, leaving him cold and yearning for your touch.

He shifts in bed and opens his eyes, frowning when he realizes that it was yet just another dream. “This can’t keep happening” He growls to himself, feeling rather cranky.

It has been weeks since he started having dreams about confessing his feelings to you. Don’t get him wrong, he plans to do it in real life, he wasn’t a coward. He just couldn’t find the perfect moment to go through with it. All his previous attempts were ruined by his brothers interrupting. Especially Mammon.

You turn in your sleep, groaning as you did. Now you were facing him. He felt the urge to go back to sleep, but he much rather stare at you for a while since he was already up.

The way your face looked so peaceful as you lay there next to him was everything he could possibly ask for. How your gentle breathing calmed him into a sense of serenity was like none other. You gave him the peace that he thought he would never have gotten back after what had happened between you two.

He promised himself he wouldn’t, but he just couldn’t help but poke your cheek. The soft skin under his finger made him chuckle. “Cute…” He hums.

He continues to poke different parts of your face consistently, promising to stop after each time but failing to hold himself back. He ends up disturbing your slumber, causing you to awake.

“Belphie?” You’d groan in confusion while your eyes squint. He only smiles and caresses your face in his hand. “I couldn’t sleep” he offers as an unconvincing alibi to accidentally waking you up. “You couldn’t sleep?” you raise your eyebrow at him in disbelief, and he chuckles, moving in closer to take you in his arms.

You gladly snuggled up closer to the demon under the sheets that cover you both, reveling in his warmth. It was soothing, and having him near you was always comforting.

The two of you snuggled in bed gave you access to the beating of his heart. It hindered you from falling back to sleep for it was thumping so loudly and at a quick pace.

Meanwhile, Belphie was on cloud nine. The only thought that was going through his head was coming clean to you with his feelings. This was the perfect moment he has been waiting for.

“Belphie?” you call. “MC” he cuts you off and abruptly confesses. “I like you”.

It was as if your world had stopped. Your heart was beating as fast as his now, your hands were cold despite being sandwiched in between yourself and him, and your face could never have be hotter.

“W-what?” you ask just in case you didn’t hear him right. “I’ve been meaning to tell you about this for so long now. But every single time that I try to, my idiot brothers get in the way” Belphie curses in frustration and you could tell that he was frowning over your head.

You could not believe what you were hearing. Belphie was telling you that he liked you. You’ve only ever been crushing on him since forever and now he was telling you that he felt the same! Since when? That didn’t matter now, all you really cared about was this moment you were sharing with the one you liked the most.

“I…” you stutter.

All of a sudden, the door to the attic opens and Mammon is instantly in between the two of you. You don’t even know HOW that happened.

For a moment it was silent, the atmosphere was tense, and a single movement could lead to catastrophic events.

“Mammon” Belphie speaks up, death seeping within his words.

“Yeah?” Mammon replies as if the situation wasn’t out of the ordinary.

You were afraid to move even an inch, and feared for Mammon’s life. You knew what was about to happen and braced yourself for the worst.

Belphie turns into his demon form, anger bubbling from within him, causing for the second born demon to head for the stairs out of the attic as he was chased down by your crush, waking everybody in the house up in the middle of the night.

Chaos was unleashed at the House of Lamentation that night, but when morning came, you managed to suppress Belphie’s anger towards his brother by confessing to him how you felt as well. He almost completely forgot about what had happened the previous night and happily gave you a deep and meaningful kiss right there and then in the middle of breakfast with everyone watching.

Surprise! I did both! Just a little special something for my very first emoji anon uwu ~

Thank you for the compliment btw, you're too kind 😔💕. I had lots of fun writing these so I hope you enjoy them! Hope to hear from you again ☁️ anon!

~ Em

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slimeylee · 2 years

Text

dream, he/him, george, he/him, yadda yadda iiiiit'll be good for the video i promise/ref

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Dream was scrolling through TikTok when he had run into a certain TikTok that amused him. He thought for a moment, and decided he would go to George for helping him remake it. He hopped out of his chair and went up to the kitchen where, luckily for him, George was getting a snack. Dream went to the original TikTok and duetted it, running over to George excitedly.

"George! We should make this TikTok together!" Dream exclaimed, his hands pushing against the countertop lifting him off the ground where his socked feet landed once more. George turned around to look at Dream, wondering what kind of TikTok he would even be so excited to make. But moreover, he agreed with a classic; "Sure, idiot."

"Alright! Go over to the fridge and uhh.. I'll set up my phone so it stands up." Dream smiled at his friend. "You're not going to show me what we're doing?-" George asked, a smile on his face in anticipation. "Don't worry about it, George. it's not like we're doing the fire challenge or something. It'll be better for the video if you don't know what we're doing, though." Dream smiled behind his hand. George nodded in interest, and walked over to the fridge. Dream set up his phone, then pressed record. The countdown begun and he raced over to George. "Just copy my movements, okay?"

George nodded. Dream begun by lifting one arm, and George lifting the one corresponding with that arm. Dream lifted his other arm, George lifted his other arm as well. Dream crossed both his wrists together in the air, and George did the same. Dream grinned at his friend's confused expression. Just then, he took a step forward, and pinned George to the fridge. He gasped, as Dream slowly leaned his head down.

"DreEAAM!-" George was obviously not expecting to scream out when Dream's fingers suddenly shot into his armpits, gentle nibbles placed on the nook of his neck. Dream blew a long raspberry into the side of George's neck, still drilling into the hollows of his armpits. "NOHOHO! GEHET OUT OF THERE! AAAAHAHAHA- DREEHEHEAM!" George cried, thrashing around as Dream's fingers evilly scribbled. Dream quietly giggled with George, his friend's laughter was absolute music to his ears.

He stopped after a few more seconds, and checked back at his phone. The TikTok ended by then, but Dream was happy. "Thanks, George!" He grinned, running over to his phone. "Yohou.. Are not posting that!" George yelled breathlessly, running at Dream and grasping his phone. Like toddlers fighting over a toy, the two each pulled the phone towards one or the other. "Stohop, you're gonna drohop my phone!" Dream giggled out. George did not back off though. He reached over and squeezed Dream's side, to which Dream jerked back with a surprised yelp.

"Nohoho! George! That was a good take!" Dream cried out as George deleted the footage. "There's no way you were going to have posted that!" George exclaimed, setting Dream's phone on the counter and crossing his arms. Dream sighed, looking down at the ground with a disappointed look on his face. "Well, George.."

"...It looks like we're going to have to record it all over again." Dream unbelievably fake, sad expression became a wide grin, and the DreamTeam house was soon enough filled to the brim with screams and laughter once more.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

yeehawww...... idk

go check out @an-inkling-of 's interpretation of this prompt with lee dream and ler george :D

w&c count; 536 words, 3k characters

aaaand....... yeah. smiley out >:3

-spookyslime

#slimey-fics #lee!georgenotfound #ler!dreamwastaken #longest fic ive written??? idk i lose motivation and thought quickly #i could be just completely wrong tho. dont take my advice lmao #ive gotta write more tbh #i hope i wrote for these two well btw!!!#i dont write for dnf a lot...

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the-void-8-my-soul · 1 year

Note

-he wash blue while he wasn't looking -

(Tw// character death)

As Blue walked back from his short trip to visit his friend Sci’s AU he munched happily on his cookie. He strolled through the portal happily. Just as the portal closed behind him he heard an ear shattering scream.

Looking up, Blue's breath hitched. Blue strings and red paint scattered across a marred landscape that Blue once recognised as his home. His eyelights shook as he took in the chaos surrounding him.

Screams of monsters being tortured surrounded him. Echoing off of the cave walls of the underground. Blue raced forward to try and help. Only to stop dead as he gazed up into the eyes of two skeletons he once trusted.

The target red eye’s of Ink and the crazed smile of Error.

“Oh!” a cheerful Ink exclaimed “There you are! I wondered where you went little swap, I missed you in snowdin when we destroyed that!”

"Shut up squid. Just kill him already. We're wasting time on this world. We have to get three more or else the multiverse will colapse."

"oh! Right! Hehehe sorry I forgot Error. Here, let me just get rid of this one.."

With a crazed cackle Ink swiped his massive paintbrush down toward Blue, in the hopes of dissolving him with the acid like paint, only for Alphys to jump out of nowhere and shield the shaking Blue. As she dissolved into a puddle she yelled at Blue to get him to run.

Not thinking Blue turned tail and started racing back to the slightly concealed cavern where the portal machine was.

He heard the demonic laughter of the destroyer and creator behind him. Looking back proved to be a mistake as he saw nothing, not just no Error and Ink, but literally nothing. Like the part of the world he called home had vanished into smoke, and it may well have been if what he just realized these two gods were capable of was true.

Racing around the corner he waited with baited breath as both flew past his hiding spot in pursuit of where they thought he went.

When he was quite sure he was alone Blue turned around to the machine… only to realize… he didn’t know how to operate it…

No no nononononononoooononnoonnonoonnonononoonono! This couldn’t be happening. He had watched Sci fiddle with the machine… insert some DT and.. And… and then a portal appeared… how did Sci do that? How did he???

No no no!

Blue frantically started pushing buttons. C’mon C’mon!!! He thought as he grew more and more desperate.

He could hear the yells of monsters dying right outside his cave, he knew there was no way to help them... His only hope was to get out.

.....

Nothing was working! He frantically pushed more buttons, begging for someone… anyone! to hear his silent please for mercy….

Wishing he had stayed with Sci just a few moments longer. Wishing Papyrus was here.

He punched the machine as he sobbed to the empty cave. Only to watch in horror as the machine disappeared into a specks of code.

He looked up… to find he was alone… utterly alone… in a dark space. There was nothing.

Ink and Error were gone. His friends where gone. His world was gone…

I T W A S A L L G O N E.

And he was cast into darkness…

He fell to his knees. He felt like his chest might burst.

*Blue is stuck in the void.

*you don't know enough about his location to rescue him yet.

*Try talking to him? 💙Yes 💙No

#The Spare AU #ask the void #underverse #swap sans

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rindarling · 2 years

Text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ "You know, I think we should just uh- you know? Date?"

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Hatsune Miku: Colorful Stage! ࿐ྂ

Hello, to everyone who has read my past works, I hope my writing style isn't too different! I am currently writing on phone and it is my first time. I usually write on my laptop haha.. I only use my phone to edit my post's text colors. But, I'll try my best to get used to using a phone because I'll be using my laptop less and less. :(

(The plot is really awkward ! ..)

Genre: Fluff

Reader's Gender: Female

Characters: Tsukasa Tenma, Rui Kamishiro, Nene Kusanagi, Emu Otori

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

A walk in the park shouldn't be that bad right? Or so you thought. You would have actually said that the walk in the park was great if it wasn't for the boy and his friends standing in the middle of the park. As you were nearing the middle of the park to sit on a bench, you heard someone practically scream to the group,

"Yay!☆ We're going to the Taiyaki place todaaaay!!!!"

You could see the tiredness in most of the members of the group's eyes.

"Oh? [Name], funny seeing you here."

You could hear the teasing tone in Rui's voice.

"What- You told me to go walk in the park today to get some exercise. Is this what you meant? Seriously?"

You were now currently sweating under the four stares you were getting.

It was silent for awhile before Rui grabbed Nene and Emu's shoulders and started to walk away.

You could faintly hear a

"matchmaking!!!☆"

And just by that, you knew what Rui was up to. Oh god that idiot-

You saw Rui throw an okay sign to you as he had his back to you, and Emu has her arms up waving okay signs to you too.

"[Name]! How are you? Aren't you supposed to take care of your brother on Saturdays? How long have you been watching us? Are you also here to dance?"

He had bombarded you with questions and he didn't speak the way he usually did with other people.- You and Tsukasa had known each other since elementary school. You were both the ones who could constantly swap snacks with each other in recess. -So you didn't really need to ask why he spoke like that.

And as if he noticed, he coughed and went back to his usual speaking.

"Ehem! Ahaha! I was just concerned for a close friend's health! Do not take it the wrong way."

You both knew what he meant.

At that moment, you could feel 3- wait no, 2 pairs of eyes staring right at you guys. You sweatdropped heavily at this and made a mental note to smack Rui hard in the back of the head when you see him again.

As you sighed in dread, you felt Tsukasa grab your hand. Your head snapped to his direction and saw a sight that'll forever be embedded in your memories.

Tsukasa was kneeling down, red-faced.

"W-w-w-"

He was stuttering really badly and you would've pitied him if it wasn't for most of you thinking this was the funniest side to Tsukasa you've seen.

"Wouldyouliketobemywife?!"

Oh.

You saw Rui, Emu, and Nene in the bushes. Rui looked ready to laugh with his Cheshire-like smile. Emu had stars in her eyes as if she was watching a play. Nene was watching intently with her eyes narrowed, though if looked at closely, you'll see a smile coming through. You could tell they found this amusing, you would've found this amusing too if it wasn't for the fact that YOU were the victim. You went red-faced at the question.

"WHAT? YOULIKEME?????"

"IDOBUT-"

"WHYDON'TWEDATE FIRSTBEFOREGETTING MARRIEDTSUKASA?"

Because of all the awkwardness and the state you both are in, the both of you started speaking faster due to the both of you being too flustered.

It suddenly went silent again.

"What?"

"What do you mean date?"

"What do you mean get married and that you like me???????"

The both of you asked at the same time.

"I-I was simply asking you to be my wife for a roleplay!"

"YOU COULD'VE TOLD ME SOONER TSUKASA WHAT THE HELL"

You practically had tears in your eyes from holding back laughter and how flustered you were.

"But wait- Do you also like me? Well, I mean uhhhhhh you said you did."

A sudden silence was lingering in the air, as Tsukasa nodded his head slowly.

"You know, I think we should just uh- you know? Date?-

-Since we both like each other anyway."

You stood there in silence waiting for his answer.

"WHAT?! YOU LIKE ME TOO?!"

≡;- ꒰ °END ꒱

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

THE PLOT WAS SO AWKWARD HELP ME- THIS GOT ME SECOND HAND EMBARRASSMENT BUT I WOULD LOVE TO CONFESS TO SOMEONE THIS WAY?!

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

#🎀rin #🎀rin darling #tsukasa tenma x reader #tsukasa x reader #tsukasa tenma #rui #emu #nene #x reader #x female reader #x fem reader #reader #female reader #fem reader #tsukasa tenma x you #tsukasa x you

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whereallthewhumpgoes · 2 years

Text

Bad Memories

CW: Post-traumatic stress (like, a lot of it), bad caretaker (not like abusive or anything, more like B+ caretaking), implied minor character death, female whumpee, male whumper, male caretaker, whumpee is fidgeting with a gun for most of the drabble because she has issues, mentions of beating, strangulation, and solitary confinement

Whumpee sat at the dinner table, idly tapping her fork against the edge of her half-empty plate. The conversation swirled around her, individual words mashing together and turning into a chaotic blend of noise. She caught “shut up” somewhere in the mix, immediately followed by laughter. Were they laughing with them, or laughing at them? Her hand began to tremble as she looked down into her wine glass, pondering the face she saw in the reflection. Pale and thin, her clumsily cropped hair bleached an ugly blond in an attempt to hide herself from her former captors.

Whumper had been the worst of them. Even as blurry as her memories were, she could remember that. She remembered him beating her, tearing her back to ribbons for no particular reason other than boredom and sadism. She remembered him telling her to be quiet, and then making her be quiet when she wouldn’t do what he told her to, choking the life out of her. She remembered being left for hours in a cold, dark cell, alone, all alone, for what felt like a thousand years, until she was practically begging for some company, any company, even Whumper’s company. The memories drifted through her brain in fragments, cutting into her will, making her hands shake, turning her breath ragged. She bit back a scream as she dropped her fork and it clattered to the floor.

“I need to go.”

She bundled her cloak around her and ran out into the garden. She could feel the eyes of the partygoers following her as she left. She could only pray that they wouldn’t worry, that Caretaker would be able to get them all settled and back to their silly gossip. She’d caused a situation. She hated to cause situations. Back when she’d been Whumper’s prisoner, causing situations meant getting into trouble, and getting into trouble meant suffering. But she wasn’t with him now. Caretaker wouldn’t do that to her, he didn’t have the capacity for that, she reminded herself. Except that he did. She’d seen what he’d done to the people who’d imprisoned her when he broke her out. So much blood. So much screaming. He’d told her not to look, but she’d looked anyway, and look where that had gotten her, drowning in her own memories.

She sat down on the edge of the fountain and took out her small, rust-covered six-shooter. A gift, she remembered, this had been a gift, but from who? It didn’t matter. She began to fidget with it, twirling it around her finger as she loaded and unloaded it over and over, disassembling and reassembling it again and again. As she slid the cartridge back into place, she turned around to see Caretaker sitting right beside her.

“Jesus, Caretaker, warn me next time you’re going to pop up out of thin air,” she squeaked.

“You usually spot me a lot sooner than that. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Just…bad memories.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

She wanted to scream and snap that no, no he did not ‘get that’. He hadn’t been trapped for days and days with nothing to eat, no room to even breathe in that horrible, cramped dungeon. He hadn’t been tormented day and night by madmen whose motivations he couldn’t understand, would never be able to understand. He wasn’t living in fear of being dragged back to that place again, too scared to sleep, too scared to even think properly. He had no idea what her world looked like right now. But she didn’t say that. He was trying to help, he really was. He just didn’t understand this the way she understood it. He probably never would. And maybe that was alright.

She ran a hand through her hair, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm her wandering mind. “I…it’s not the way you think it is. It’s like…you know how I usually can’t remember my time with Whumper very well?”

“Yeah. I know that.”

“Well, it’s like all the blurry memories just went into hi-def. And I have no idea what caused it, but it’s messing me up.” She spun the pistol around her finger again, briefly checking to make sure it was unloaded first. “I’m trying to focus on the garden and the gun and nothing else, but it’s not…it’s not easy.”

Caretaker sighed as he hoisted his ukelele onto his knee. “I don’t know if it’s ever gonna be easy. I mean, I hope it is one day, but the shit you went through…it makes me sick to think about. And I’ve seen some shit in my day, but that…” He shook his head, tipping his feather-filled hat back into place when it began to slip off of his head. “I am not very good at this.”

“No you’re not.”

He laughed, and she laughed with him.

“I’m sorry. I promise, I’m doing my best.”

“You know what you could do to help right now?” she stated.

“Yeah?”

“Play me something on that thing,” she said, gesturing to the ukelele. “I don’t know how much good it’ll do, but maybe it’ll drown out some of the noise in my head. Help keep me grounded, you know?”

“Alright.”

He beamed and began to play, his music drifting through the garden, up over the peach trees and through the rose bushes, filling everything with light and life. She leaned back and breathed it in, holding out her arms as if to embrace the song, drinking it in like water. She breathed a gentle sigh of relief as she wrapped her arms around herself, smiling as she stood up and began to sway to the rhythm. The fabric of her pinstripe pants drifted along the ground as she danced, trying to be happy to spite everyone who wanted her to suffer. She leaned back against an oak as the song came to an end, feeling strangely safe despite everything.

“You feeling any better?” Caretaker asked.

“Not great, but not terrible,” she replied, popping her aching back. “Let’s go back inside.”

#female whumpee #minor character death #cw gun mention #whump #whump writing #whump drabble #i might turn this into a series later #who knows?#b+ caretaker

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bubblegumfanfictions · 1 year

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole- Chapter 5

Fandom- Angels of Death, Satsuriku No Tenshi

Ships- Zack Foster x Original Female Character

Warnings- Swearing, mentions of torture

Summary- Robin Reyes is a fucked up girl, from a young age she was molested by doctors and sometimes her mother's boyfriend. With her mother's abuse getting worse and worse the girl snaps and kills them both. While on the run she gets approached by a group of people claiming they know a place where people like her could kill, legally. All she needed to do was follow the rules.

When Robin meets Rachel she realises that she wants to try her hand at a normal life despite how abnormal she is and when she meets Zack they gradually warm up to each other until she realises who she wants that normal life with.

Word Count- 1741

To Robin's horror, the girl pulls a needle and thread from her bag. She then grabbed the malnourished bird with a quick movement. "It's okay, hold still." The needle went into the bird's wing and then back out forming a stitch. The bird tweeted and screeched in pain as she began to sew its wing shut.

The killer groaned, covering her mouth with her hand, disgusted by the action taking place before her, however being unable to look away from the macabre sight of the struggling bird. After Rachel finished stitching the bird she looked down at it.

"There, you should be fine now. But I worry so you are coming with me." She held the bird in her hands softly, trying to prevent its pain from getting worse.

--Acquired Injured Bird--

As they both began to leave the room the sound of a pipe clanking stopped them in their movements. "W-What's that sound? It's scaring the bird." Robin gripped her bat tight running back onto the main street, clearly on the offensive.

"There's nothing here..." The woman muttered, still keeping her wide stance when suddenly the entrance to the alley was closed off by a wall. "What the fuck?" She gaped in shock at the wall. The bird tweeted in fright and jumped out of Ray's grasp.

"Come on little birdie..." Each time she tried to grab the bird it flew slightly away from her, leading her in a full circle before it stood directly in front of the boarded door.

"I don't like this..." Robin warned, her position becoming more reinforced, getting odd anxiety from what was happening. Ray simply looked at the bird with a smile on her face.

"Don't be scared, let's leave this place together. Okay?" The bird tweeted in response. Robin's paranoia got worse as her heart rate picked up causing her to become jittery.

"Let's just get the fuck out of here." Rachel ignored her.

"Well, come here." She held her hands open for the bird to climb in them. The sound of wood breaking followed by laughter bellowed through the room, Rachel jumped back by a metre and stared up in shock.

A man stood there, possibly early twenties, but it was hard to tell due to the bandages covering his body. He was wearing a light brown hoodie and possessed a large scythe positioned behind him, ready to swing at her at any given moment.

"Wipe that stupid, smug look off of your face and surrender to despair! I'll give you a Three-second head start... How fast can you run?" Robin weighed her options, she was smaller than him so he would have the upper hand in attacking, however, she did have a small pocket knife tucked into her apron.

A large weapon is no good if your opponent is right in front of you, and that could give her the upper hand, however, she didn't want to risk death to protect this child so she opted on running instead.

"Now cry, scream, beg for your life! Show me the despair on your face! YES, more!" The man yelled maniacally.

"THREE!" He yelled, staring at the two girls, trembling with blood lust, as they began to run down the corridor.

"Oh for fuck sake, you’re so slow!" Robin hoisted the child into her arms and sprinted towards the dining room.

"TWO" They made their way to the first door and Robin kicked it open with all her might.

"ONE!" B6 yelled, sprinting after the girls who were just a step ahead, Robin slammed the door in his face and ran into the dining room, shoving Rachel into the large box before jumping into a locker opposite it.

Then the door opened, the heavy footsteps of the floor master sounded throughout the room as Robin began to panic. "Huh? Where the hell did those bitches go? This room?" He looked around the room, his eyes setting onto Rachel's hiding spot.

"One of them has to be in there." His scythe lifted into the air and slammed down into the box, no sound was heard. "Huh, guess I missed." The scythe sliced through it once more and then he gave up. "I guess not, I'll just unlock the door." Robin heard the door unlock and close, followed by the footsteps repeatedly becoming softer before stopping completely.

Robin stumbled out of the locker, brushing off her dress. "Jesus, that was High School all over again." She walked over to the broken box and opened the lid, expecting to find the bleeding corpse of Rachel inside, but no, she was still alive.

"Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw, you're alive?" She helped the traumatised girl out of the box. Rachel nodded lightly, her steps swaying.

"I-I hope IT doesn't come back..." Rachel looked up at Robin with fear-filled eyes. "We've got to escape this place before IT finds us. If it catches us..." Rachel looked down at her feet.

"You never call somebody an 'IT' no matter how mean they are. I mean, unless of course, that thing is Pennywise, if so then go for it. Creepy clown motherfucker." Robin shuddered at the thought of the child-eating clown.

"The bird..." We walked to the door B6 had unlocked and opened it. "We can go through now... Did it unlock it?" Robin glared at the girl, lightly tapping her head, telling her to knock it off. They saw a small room, a door to their right and a hatch right in front of them. They opted to go through the door first.

That door led back to the main street, it was a shortcut back to the building they met B6 in. "I worry about the bird..." Rachel murmured. Robin led Rachel over to the dead bird. It had been ripped in two. Ray frowned deeply and picked up the two halves of the bird. "At least let me give it a proper burial."

They walked over to the dirt room they had found on the way to the dining area. Rachel picked up the shovel and dug a decent size hole for the bird. Just as Rachel was about to put the bird into the hole she froze, looking at the two pieces of bird in her hands.

'Oh god, here we go again.' Robin thought, preparing herself for the creepy side of Rachel to come back out.

"No... You're not my little birdy... Not like this... Not like this. You shouldn't look like this... I-It's just cruel!" Rachel's spoken thought process stopped as a creepy grin took over her face. "I gotta fix you little birdy." Robin followed Rachel's hand movements as she sewed the bird back together, genuinely feeling queasy from the exchange, the sound of the needle roughly ramming into the bird's flesh made the older woman want to puke.

"Look, good as new." She smiled normally once more at the bird, not once looking at Robin's horrified expression. "All that's left is to bury it." She grabs the dove and throws it into the grave, covering it back up with soil.

"There is something on the floor." Robin pointed to the ground where the bird was buried.

"Ah, come to think of it, I had a feeling something fell out of its stomach earlier." Robin doubled over and heaved.

"Ugh, that is so gross kid." Rachel picked up the bloody key and handed it to Robin to tie to the string around her neck, Robin pushed the key away. "Wipe that thing off first." Rachel did just that on her jeans, the fresh blood quickly smearing from the key to her shorts.

"That's better." Robin took the key and hung it around her neck, she liked to collect keys, it was a fun little pastime. "Now I think I know where this leads." They both ended up back to the hatch in the floor, a sign next to it saying 'Elevator Passage control room.'

Using the key on the floor panel Robin managed to get it open and climbed down the narrow passageway finally coming across a switch labelled 'Elevator Passage Gate.' Without another thought, Robin switched it on and climbed back up to Rachel who was patiently waiting next to the hatch.

"I flipped the switch, the Elevator should work now." They both went over to the door that comes back out to the main road but it's been locked?

"What the fuck!? Stay close, if not I’m going to leave you as bait and get the fuck out of here alone." Robin pushed Ray behind her and walked back through the dining room and corridor, coming back out through the other door they went through to escape B6. A piece of rumble from the top of the room fell next to Robin, causing the two to turn their gaze to above the door.

He laughed once more, definitely a normal thing for him. "PEEK-A-BOO, I FOUND YOU AT LAST." He hops down from the piping and locks the door behind him, essentially cornering them. "Well, I locked the door. I should've done that sooner!" He giggled to himself, staring at the two girls creepily, licking his lips as bloodlust poured from his body.

"No head start for you this time!" Without any thought, Robin grabbed Rachel and sprinted as fast as she could, left, right, left, right, left! She repeated in her head, hoping that the door was open and when she got there it was. She turned to look at B6, who was maybe 3 foot behind her and ran through the door.

"HOOOLLLLDDD ITTTTT" She heard him yell from the other side of the door. She ran through the small corridor and managed to make it to the elevator.

"Fucking make me mummy boy!" She yelled as she opened the elevator and stepped inside. Pressing the button to close it. Shit. It wasn't closing, and B6 was getting closer. In a flurry of panic, her hand repeatedly slammed onto the button until it finally closed, just blocking Robin and Rachel from getting killed by him.

Robin wiped her forehead, panting heavily. "Holy. Shit." Ray too, was out of breath and sat quietly on the floor trying to regain it. Robin sat next to the girl. "Well, here's to surviving another floor." She huffed. Feeling the elevator coming to a stop. The door opened once more. Giving them a taste of B5, and it was a hospital. Shit.

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lilac-and-lemon-whumps · 2 years

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1. Play Date

Masterlist

A short peek into a typical night with Miss Silva

Cw’s: vampire whumper, lady whumper, male and female human whumpees, pet whump, collars, non-consensual blood drinking, minor character death, it as a pronoun, dehumanization, mentions of burn injuries/previous torture

Chow forced itself not to stare.

The towel was already soaked. It crawled to grab at the second one it had dragged from the closet, patting at the remaining stains before Miss returned. She wouldn’t accept a job not finished, and certainly not one finished poorly. Chow could still hear her in the parlor with her friends, raucous laughter and stiletto heels clicking on marble floors.

Chow wasn’t too keen to feel those heels in its back or its head. Worse, Miss’ crop or her hot stick, tearing out the flesh in chunks like it were only soft wax from Chow’s candles. Chow's shoulders still weren’t healed totally from the previous month.

Chow scrubbed harder.

“What’s this one’s name?” A man had asked earlier. Harper, Miss had called him with a kiss to his cheeks when he'd arrived. Chow had been watching the rings on his fingers, ones that resembled birds, gold and heavy, but the man had not been watching Chow. He’d been studying the mutt that’d been dragged in that evening for the festivities, the crimson collar wrapped so tightly around its purple neck that Chow could only wince and look away from.

“Don’t be silly.” Miss had pulled Harper away then to another room, leaving Chow tied nicely next to the mutt, Chow’s hands clasped in a metal ribbon as a reminder to Miss’ friends not to touch Chow. “I don’t name my food.”

Now though, Chow’s hands were free to clean and the collar returned to its rightful place. The mutt, now dead and drained, stared with hollow eyes at Chow’s endeavor.

Look away, Chow reminded itself. Get back to work.

The second towel stained quickly but thankfully a third was not needed. Miss and her friends had done a cleaner job than usual. That, or they’d been hungrier. Usually there were at least two or three animals for Chow’s owners to feed from, but Miss had only bought this one for the night.

“My-ah,” the mutt had coughed out earlier, low enough not to be heard over the crowd’s cacophony. If Chow’s hands had been free, it would have slapped the mutt. No wonder the mutt was being punished, the insolence of it. The danger.

“My-my name.” A cough, low and breathless. “My na-ame—is Miah.”

Chow pretended not to hear.

Just like it pretended not to hear the mutt’s strangled screams, more gurgles of pain with the overtightened collar, when Hector and Guido took turns taking the last of whatever the mutt had left in it, throat shredded in a way that implied purposeful rather than necessary.

“‘elp me, he-‘elp me, please.”

Chow pretended, for one moment, that it was a bird on a ring. Unseeing. Unhearing. Unknowing. Just like it pretended not to hear Miss Silva’s low voice, singing some off tune ballad with the radio playing out in the hall, her friends laughing and exchanging stories from work as if Chow wasn’t stained, hands and knees and shins, in spilled blood that was, for once, not its own.

“I can’t—I…I don’t w-want to die. Please.”

Chow did not see. It did not hear. It did not speak, unlike the disobedient animal. And even if it would have wanted to do anything, it stubbornly pretended otherwise.

Just like Chow pretended, every waking hour, every miserable night and windowless morning, like it would ever be, ever at all, any better off than Miah the little dead mutt.

Taglist: @mylifeisonthebookshelf @thecyrulik @deluxewhump @melancholy-in-the-morning @pumpkin-spice-whump @cicatrix-energy @nicolepascaline @whumpy-writings

#this is shorter than usual i apologize #work has been kicking my butt #heed the cw's #vampire whump #lady whumper #pet whump #human whumpee #blood #blood drinking #dehumanization #collars #crop mention #Miss Silva and Chow #pre Diego #male whumpee #female whumpee

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wingsofimagery · 2 years

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Seashells

㊊ Summary: Jyushi ran from Kuko's exorcism adventure and met a girl who calls him Kiddo. He's not very fond of the name but her request was a simple one he couldn't reject. ㊊ Characters: Aimono Jyushi, Original Female Character (unnamed), Harai Kuko, Amaguni Hitoya ㊊ Genre: General ㊊ Warnings: Mention of character death ㊊ Word Count: 2406 ㊊ A/N: I died... As per usual. I have something else coming up real soon too. I wrote this a while back for a zine application (in which I got into~ Please look forward to it!)

“I can’t do this! Noooooooo!!” Jyushi shouted as he ran out of the building.

Kuko had suggested they investigate this place where there a ghost was to be exercised. Jyushi, having been too spooked by the eeriness, ran off screaming on his own. Hitoya was not prepared for this and had lost sight of Jyushi by the time he chased after him. Kuko, who made it his mission to successfully take the haunting ghost to the afterlife, chose to stay back and furthered his search.

—

“Stupid Kuko-san. I don’t want to be here anymore… This is a scary place. Amanda, I’m afraid,” Jyushi muttered to himself while holding his pig plushie gingerly in his hands.

The tears collecting on the edge of his eyes slid down his cheeks. He kept them closed while he cried, sniffling every once in a while. Of all places to go, it had to be a haunted house. It was not even a theme park haunted attraction or anything created by living humans. An actual house haunted by an actual spirit of a dead person. Leave it to Kuko to play with his fears.

He did not notice the figure that wandered by nor did he realize the figure made a stop when she heard his cries. She walked up to him, squatting down to get closer to the crying teen.

“Are you lost, young one?”

Jyushi looked up with surprise plastered on his face. He had let out a yelp from the sudden interaction and his hands flew up to wave them away, Amanda clutched tightly in his hand. He did not know what he was doing but he was too spooked out to coherently think.

“Hey hey! Watch it! Your piggy is going to fly away! I won’t hurt you! Seriously, stop it!”

He finally stopped flinging his hands around, pausing mid-air to observe the stranger. She wore a dress, long enough to cover her feet. Her hair was half done up. From Jyushi’s observations, he noticed that…

“You’re not going to hurt me…”

“Correct, my child. Now tell me, what is wrong? Why are you in tears? Do I have to hurt someone?”

Jyushi did not answer her questions, instead, he spouted his own, “why are you calling me pet names like I’m an actual child? You look the same age as I do!”

“Looks can be deceiving. Don’t you know that?” She roared with laughter and gave his head a few pats.

“I ran from my friends. They were doing this expedition thing to exorcise some ghost. Said there was a haunting here, knowing fully well how I can’t handle the paranormal.”

She raised her eyebrow in interest. She could hear how exasperated Jyushi was.

“Well, I apologize. I can’t do much but I can tell you now, that you’re doing pretty good. The spirits won’t be messing with you tonight. Not while I’m around!”

Jyushi tilted his head to question her statement, “what do you mean?”

She merely smiled and offered her hand for him to take. Jyushi could tell that she was nice. She emitted a comforting aura; that was all he needed to trust her. He shyly placed his hand in her offering one. There was no warmth in her hands but he chalked it up to the decreasing temperature as night was cooler than day. There was also something else about her hand but he could not put his words to it. She stood up to her full height and the teen got up with her.

“Come on, buddy. Don’t slouch! Stand tall! You’re given your height for a reason!”

He quickly straightened his back, a chuckle escaped from his lips from her silliness. She knew how to bring the mood up. She was happy to see him lighten up a little as well.

He followed her on a walk. The breezy night on this hot day was welcomed. The walk was slow, not that Jyushi was complaining. Jyushi wanted to keep talking to her but he did not know how to start conversations, let alone hold a conversation with her. He opted to tug on Amanda in hopes of finding some extra comfort in her.

“So… I’m guessing you don’t want to return to your friends for the time being. Would you like to go to the nearby beach with me then? I have a task I need help with,” she smiled at him in hopes that he would accept the request.

He nodded his head, “Sure! I don’t know if I’ll be of much help though, but it’s better than being here alone.”

Her smile grew wider. She would not know what she would do if she could not convince him. She did not want to leave him there by himself. Grateful for his acceptance, she smiled even wider. Her steps were light as she hopped in front of him, looking back every once in a while to make sure he was following her and not straying away. The beach was not a long walk. Their quiet journey there was not awkward either. Jyushi does not usually warm up to people that quickly but with the light atmosphere she brought along with her, he felt the gloomy emotions disappear.

She stepped down onto the sand, turning around to spread her arms out. Jyushi stared at her in question. He stood close before her and awaited her instructions. She pointed to the seashells; some were completely intact, others were tarnished by nature and humans alike. She told Jyushi to pick up the cockleshell, informing him that she wanted shells that were pristine like this one.

“This shouldn't be hard but why are you not able to do this on your own?” he questioned. He meant no malice in his questions, he was simply confused. She was in perfect condition and nothing he saw physically looked like it could hinder her in any way.

She sheepishly looked away, “Well… My hands are unable to touch them. I can’t really explain it but I hope you understand… I really need your help.”

Jyushi knew he could not deny her request. He understood her nervousness, how some things could not be told, and he could tell she was being honest about it. He scratched the back of his head, nodding in reply as he knelt down to pick up the shell for her. She continued to instruct him on what to pick up and what to be careful of. As they moved around, stepped away, and stopped at multiple areas, Jyushi found his arms cradling a bit more than a handful of shells. He shuffled around to adjust them, careful not to drop any.

“Maybe we should stop now. Follow me!” she beckoned with her hand, walking ahead of him again.

He scrambled to his feet and brushed off the sand on his pants before he ran up to her. He followed her as an obedient pet would. Once again, the walk was quiet but this time, she began asking him questions.

“I never got your name, kiddo.”

“I’m not a kiddo. I look your age and you look my age,” he huffed, “and my name is Aimono Jyushi.”

“My apologies, Jyushi.”

He was about to ask for her name but their conversation was halted before he could talk again. They stood before a tombstone. There was a jar with some shells in there. It looked dusty and old. As if no one has been around to take care of the grave for years. Jyushi watched her squat down to caress the tombstone.

“This is the place. Could you replace the shells in this jar with the ones we picked?”

He immediately went to work on the request. The sadness she emitted made him feel compelled to help her even further. He made haste with exchanging the shells with the new ones. He also dusted off the jar with his sleeve. Once done, the jar sat back where it was, right in front of the tombstone to the right.

“You helped a lot; thank you for helping me out on my silly request.”

Jyushi shook his head as he nervously laughed. He did not understand why she was so happy about this. It was just a small task that anyone could have done. It was not like it was going to do him any harm. It also felt good to have been useful. Jyushi liked the feeling of being appreciated. He basked in the feeling with a smile.

“It seems it’s time for me to go,” she said, her eyes looking up at the sun that was slowly beginning to peek out from the horizon.

Jyushi looked over at her. He could see the sorrow in her eyes. They looked bittersweet. He wondered why but something else caught his attention instead. Her body looked translucent, the light from the rising sun made her look angelic. She looked nothing like a human would.

“Thank you so much for everything tonight. I can move on thanks to you now. Nobody really ever came around so I didn’t know how long I’d have to wait to finally be able to accomplish my last wish. I just wanted to be remembered one last time… Nobody seemed to care after my funeral,” she looked down bashfully, her fingers fiddling with a necklace out of nerves, “I can’t thank you enough, so please take this as a token of my appreciation.”

She placed the necklace with a closed fanshell in his hands. Jyushi stayed confused on the ground while she stood up. Her eyes closed as her body became more transparent. His eyes widened at how she was slowly disappearing before his eyes. The realization had dawned on him a little too late.

“I hope in my next life, I’ll find someone as kind and cute as you to live for,” she laughed.

He stood up in a panic. He never asked her for her name. He needed to know before she was gone. Was this her grave? Was she here to take care of another person’s grave but could not because she had passed away as well? There were so many questions that swirled around his mind, none of which were able to make it out of his mouth. Tears pooled at the corner of his eyes. Jyushi was overwhelmed by the turn of events.

His arm shot out to grab for her, “What’s your name?”

His limb phased through her. She was barely there anymore. Jyushi was speechless, gasping for air while hoping and praying that she would at least give her name to him before she left for good. The suspense was killing him. He also wanted to thank her for keeping him company. He would have been alone if it was not for her presence.

Her reply was only a tap on the shell necklace she had given him and, then, she was gone. He looked down at the necklace, debating on whether to open it or not. He was broken from his train of thoughts by Kuko and Hitoya who came searching for him.

“Man, you ran so far, Jyushi. What in the world did you think you were doing?” Kuko complained.

“We were worried. Are you hurt?” Hitoya stopped in front of him to take a once over Jyushi, who stood there with sadness in his eyes. His posture was slumped over while his hands clutched tightly to the fanshell.

“What are you holding there?” Kuko looked at the item with confusion. He was sure Jyushi did not have that when they first arrived here. Hitoya glanced over as well to have a look.

Jyushi opened the shell. In the trinket was a photo of a family of four. There stood the lady he met, a pair of older people (whom he assumed was her parents), and someone else who looked around the same age as her. On the other side of the shell was a name. The same one as the tombstone.

“She was the one I was here to exorcise!” Kuko exclaimed, “The villagers here told me about how restless she was and they didn’t know what to do with her. They knew she was supposed to have moved on. She sounded like something was preventing her from passing on from what they were telling me. How did you get this?”

The visual kei singer went on the spiel about his mini adventure with the girl in the photo. How it was a comforting experience and how he wished he could see her again in the future. His second wish, he knew, would not come true any time in the future but he held onto it. Kuko made a face after his explanation, his eyes darting to Hitoya with a knowing look.

Hitoya held his hand up to prevent Kuko from saying anything at all. The monk frowned upon that but allowed him to take care of it instead. He crossed his arms while watching the older man. He thought this was going to be amusing.

“Jyushi… the girl you were with was the one Kuko was assigned to exorcise. The people around this neighborhood knew her and wanted to help put her to rest but they didn’t know how to. So they enlisted Kuko to assist them in bringing her to the afterlife but I guess you did it instead.” Hitoya glanced carefully at Jyushi. He hoped that did not break the boy’s spirit.

It did not. Rather, he was smiling to himself while staring at the necklace. He finally gazed at Hitoya.

“I had a feeling… She felt cold and didn’t touch anything. I wonder why she was able to touch me though,” Jyushi looked at Kuko for an answer.

Kuko shrugged, “Beats me. Wish I could give you a proper answer but I got none.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter anymore,” Jyushi replied, “she’s in a better place now. That’s all I could ask for. Although, I’ll miss her company. I’ve never felt something so comforting before.”

“Yeah, you don’t usually warm up to people quickly,” Hitoya also commented, having noticed how fondly Jyushi was speaking of this person whom he had just met.

The three wrapped up their conversion as they left the scene. Jyushi held the necklace close to him, as it was a memory of the nice moment they spent together. A moment he would never forget.

#hypnosis mic scenarios #hypnosis mic imagines #jyushi aimono imagines #jyushi aimono scenarios #jyushi aimono fic #how the fuck do i tag this LOL

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televinita · 1 year

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Power Rangers: Once & Always

My husband and I watched this last weekend because we have shared childhood nostalgia for the OG series, which was extremely fun, and now I have thoughts! A random list of thoughts!

Thoughts Like:

Me literally every second Kat was onscreen: screaming, crying, hearts streaming out of my eyes, etc. MY GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We are an equal-opportunity Red/Pink Ranger shipper in this house so as clumsy and awkward as I found most of the reminders that he and Kat are married*, I ate them up with a soup ladle.

(*were? idk feels uncomfortably like you could read this equally well as them being co-parenting divorcees on friendly terms, perhaps to appease the rabid OG shippers without pissing off canon purists, but in the absence of Amy Jo, NOT TODAY SATAN).

I was...Not expecting Trini to die on screen, even just by being hit with a blast and dropping out of sight. YIKE.

Although I did appreciate how much that made this movie feel like a fanfic that magically got filmed.

Uncle Zack just rolling up to move in and guardianship Trini’s daughter full time, SURE!!!!!

Was her name always pronounce Tree-nee?? I know I didn’t watch as much of the original lineup compared to Zeo and Turbo, but it’s always been in my head as “Trinny.” It was so jarring, every time. Is my memory that bad or is this like a Modern Day Fix where they got schooled by actual Vietnamese people.

I still require more explanation as to why they have ranger powers at this age. I thought Passing Them On was sort of...a key part of being rangers? I mean I don’t know that much about the mythology because this was strictly a teen drama to me and I fast-forwarded most of the fight scenes and battles but...

Trini’s daughter is

adorable

and I would almost commit to watching a season she was part of. The 2017 reboot film wants what this character’s energy has.

IMMENSELY hilarious to me every time Zack acted like it was unreasonable for a teenager with homework to want to be a ranger, btw.

I will say that her fight against the putties all alone really drove home how young the characters were always supposed to be. Wild visualizing rangers being actual minors.

I was never very attached to Billy and even less attached to Zack (truly the only person who was a greater non-entity to me than the latter was Rocky or perhaps Jason), so kudos to this movie making me care about them. Especially Billy. Oh my god I loved that final forgiveness convo so much.

Husband, howling with laughter at the cringe-worthy single DIVERSITY! moment: “Would you commit vehicular manslaughter for gay rights?? Only true allies need apply.”

I LOVE THE MONSTER DUDES. Especially the snakey guy, my beloved. It was very hard to root for them to be defeated, let alone straight-up murdered. (which, for all Zack kept scolding about, sure looks like revenge to me!! my husband kept trying to explain to me that it was justice and there is a difference, but everyone who claims that is wrong)

Robo Rita is also most excellent.

This movie was way more stabby than I remember the tv show being. did they always have daggers??

I know I said that I mostly skipped the fight scenes/battles, but sometimes I made exceptions for the OG series because the animal zords were actually pretty cool, unlike the later cars. Until they become a giant robot, at least, I kind of love them, so that was fun to see. I also really like the power disks w/ the animals etched on them.

...MEMORY BLAST we used to have a bunch of those from McDonald’s happy meals, I think when the OG movie came out? Now I am weirdly sad they’re all long gone.

I don’t actually remember the episode they used the nostalgic clips from at the end but oh my god that was a perfect choice. Moderately hilarious that after a whole movie of reminding us that Tommy has a kid with Kat, the clip is clearly as much Tommy Makes Heart Eyes At Kimberly as anything else, but again, equal-opportunity shipper here so it’s cool and I appreciate the gift. Also a good reminder I need to go listen to her music again, her voice is so pretty.

In conclusion: basically we got a bonus 3-part episode 30 years later and I think that is very special and my heart is very full. No complaints. :*)

#power rangers #episode reactions

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brightymir · 2 years

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𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐎 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊 [ 𝐡𝐜/𝐬𝐜 ]

cw: none i think

word count: 1.4k

characters: jujutsu kaisen high (tokyo) students x gn!reader

𑁍 yuuji itadori

POUTY BABY

he'd try hold your hand again and when you pull it back again, he'd immediately know that something's wrong

tries to think about what he did to upset you but when he comes up with nothing, he'd worry even more

feels uneasy until you let him hold your hand

you and yuuji were walking down the streets of tokyo on a saturday, on the way to visit an arcade that just opened. it was crowdy, so he tried to hold your hand and keep you close. to his surprise, you freed your hand from his grasp and when he looked at you, you just fixed the sleeve of your shirt.

after fixing it, he looked at you and took your hand in his again, since the arcade was near and more people was beginning to show up and gather. yet again, you took your hand and put it in your pocket, making a dumbfounded yuuji staring at you. you turned to look at him.

"what's the matter?" you asked and fought back the urge to laugh when he looked so lost and confused. it took him quite a while to respond and you can see his eyes gloss every so slightly. "are you mad at me? did i so something wrong?" he asked innocently.

"hmm? no i'm not, why'd you ask that ji?" you responded and suppressed the smile forming on your lips. "you keep pulling back your hand" he muttered and you broke out into fits of laughter.

"it's just a prank, ji. i should've taken a photo of your face" you said and pinched his cheeks. his face screamed betrayal and even if he tried to feign annoyance, he can only smile at you and your antics.

he never let go of your hand the entire day.

𑁍 megumi fushiguro

annoyed LMAO

he'd brush it off the first few times, thinking that you were absentmindedly doing it and were fixing some stuff

but when he noticed that you were just pulling it back to wipe it and put it in your pocket, he became confused

and that confusion led to annoyance when you didn't stop doing it

megumi is not a fan of pda, a thing that was made clear at the beginning of your relationship, but it did not bother you, you understand his boundaries and comfort zones. so when you pulled your hand back when he held it while you two were waiting for your take outs, he was surprised.

he did not want to attempt it because he was afraid that you'll pull it back again, it was already new for him to hold your hand in public. but when he saw that you just brushed a few strands of hair away from your face, he pushed back his nervous thoughts.

gently, he took your hand again and tried to lace your fingers together. he let out a sigh of relief when you didn't pull back, but he quickly took it back when you freed your hand and instead, used it to hold your wallet. he fell silent at this gesture.

moments later, you couldn't resist anymore as low giggles escaped your lips, his head turning to you quickly, realizing that it was another one of your silly pranks. he shook his head and scoffed.

he did not hold your hand for five days after that -_-

𑁍 nobara kugisaki

this girl ain't going down w/o a confrontation

extremely confused but was persistent on holding onto your hand

you two looked like you were playing tug of war with your hand because she did not give up, she does not give up

you gave in, your hand was starting to feel sore

you were both waiting for the signal to go inside the building to take care of a third grade curse, the civilians was still being evacuated. she held onto your hand and quirked an eyebrow when you pulled it back seconds later.

seeing that you just checked your tools, she reached out and took it again in her hold, only for you to retrieve it and put it in your pocket. she wondered what was up with you today, because you love to hold her hand all the time.

not backing down, she fished your hand out of your pocket and kept it in her hold, grasping it tightly. when you tried to pull it back yet again, she only added more force and pressure to keep it in her hands.

after unsuccessful attempts at retracting your hand, you broke out into laughter and she finally connected the dots in her hand. she was about to reprimand you when ijichi's voice and signal resonated.

"you owe me cuddles after this mission"

𑁍 toge inumaki

figures out it's a prank early on but that doesn't mean he likes it

because his power limits him from speaking freely, he opts to holding you to affirm his love for you

whiny, clingy and won't stop bugging you until you give in first

when you do, he clings like a koala for the rest of the day, you can't even move properly

you two were walking around the premises after finishing a mission, making sure there were no longer any curses lurking around. he swiftly took hold of your hand, placing it in his slightly colder ones.

he gives you a questioning look when you retract your hand, getting suspicious when you use it to dust off your uniform. he cautiously took it again in his hold and when you pulled away again, he confirmed his suspicions that this was a prank

"mustard leaf?" he asked, feigning worry when he really wanted to laugh and point out your bad acting. you thought you got him so you suppressed a smile, but no, it was the other way around. "huh? no, everything's alright"

at that statement, he began to wrap you in a tight hug and plant kisses all over your face, he did not stop no matter what you tried to do. after what seemed like hours, you finally gave in and broke into laughter. he let go and held onto your hand before heading back to the school

needless to say, a prank was worth three days of cuddles for toge.

𑁍 maki zen'in

confused, like, she is confusion personified at that moment

ABORT MISSION

because she'll do the same, she won't even coax you even when she finds out that it's a prank

you're the one who's gonna have to do the coaxing and lovey love

you were taking a break from training, just having finished sparring with maki. you sat on the bench and smiled secretly when maki approached you, taking a seat beside you and holding your hand, giving it a firm squeeze to let you know that you did great.

you slipped your hand off her grip with ease, pretending to wipe non-existent sweat on your forehead. she gazed at you with a questioning look, but shakes her head when she saw what you did.

she tried to hold your hand again, only for you to wriggle it out of her hold, fixing your hair this time. she caught on to what you were doing so she just returned the favor. after a few moments, you were puzzled why she was not making any more attempts

you tried to hold her hand, but she just shook it off and stretched. you tried to hold it again, but she freed it from your hold and smoothed the creases on her skirt. you gave in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, making her just raise a brow

you were not pranking her again, it was difficult to un-upset a maki zen'in.

𑁍 yuuta okkotsu

you're a horrible person if you even think about doing this to him /j

turns all teary eyed and falls into panic when he tries to refresh his memory to see if he did anything to upset you

ABORT MISSION TOO

coax him, cuddle him, PLEASE JUST MAKE IT UP TO HIM AFTERWARDS

yuuta was waiting for your arrival from a mission at your shared room. when the door creaked open and close, he got up from his seat, approaching you and opted to just hold your hand when he saw your sullen expression (which was a part of the act)

you shook off his hand rather harshly, his eyes immediately tearing up with tears gathering at his waterline. he racked his mind what he possibly did wrong and when he came up with nothing, he fell deeper into anxiety

noticing his distress, you quickly drop the act and pull him into a hug, assuring him that it was just a prank, and you heard light sniffles and sobs from your shoulders. he gripped onto you tightly, not letting go

please don't ever prank him like this again.

2K notes · View notes

chanluster · 3 years

Text

the duke and i | m ; f

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

back to masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____, listen to me.”

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

You understood where she was going with this conversation.

Your father is dead now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A sad smile exposed itself on your face.

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

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

You dearly wished you could write such flawless books yourself.

A slight frown enveloped your lips.

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

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

And snatched it right out of your hands.

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

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

The roll of your eyes was inevitable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The scoff that escaped his lips dared you to try.

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

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

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

“And how will you do that, blondie?”

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

First. Always him as your first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grinned. “God help her, then.”

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

Your stare remained on his face. “Yes?”

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

Not quite understanding, you drawed, “Yes?”

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

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

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

“I think you should marry me, angel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I cannot promise you that.”

His next words sent the strangest sensation down your spine.

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

The ballroom erupted into applause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You and him against the world.

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

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

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

Another first, then.

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

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

“Yes, blondie.”

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

“A thousand times yes.”

THE WEDDING HAPPENED QUITE IMMEDIATELY AFTER THAT NIGHT.

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

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

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

In truth, the ceremony was a blur.

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

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

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

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

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You only offered him a scoff in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His request had you face burning. “Never.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, angel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me what your book is about.”

“I am not telling you anything!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As you say.”

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

“Of course.”

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

“I am perfectly adequate, darling.”

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

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

“____?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The duke had never apologised for anything.

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

Hearing the plea for forgiveness had certainly changed that perception.

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

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

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

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

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

“Here.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something was amiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Does he enjoy your writing?

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

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

He then let out a scoff.

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

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

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

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

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

Your answer made him stop. Whirl to your direction.

“Ah, yes!”

His features twisted into anger.

“Such poppycock!”

You blinked back. “I-pardon?”

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

“Hyunjin, what do you mean?”

The man nearly ripped his hair out.

“____, you have written a bloody masterpiece!”

Your entire body stilled.

“I...I did what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

An incredulous look was your reply. “Passion?”

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

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

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

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

Lust.

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

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

“What do you mean...lust?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Now where is the fun in that?”

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

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

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

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

You gulped. “K-kisses?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence descended upon the two of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or even your destroyer. Your fated undoing.

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

“Hyunjin?”

A blink.

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

An innocent reality all for him to defile.

“Yes, angel?”

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

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

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

“How about...how about I assist you?”

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

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

“That is true, yes.”

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

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

His voice right behind gave you a fright.

“Pure, raw lust.”

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

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

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

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

“If, of course, you would let me.”

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

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

“What will you do to me, Hyunjin?”

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

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

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

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

“But show you what real passion tastes like.”

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

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

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

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

“Show me, Hyunjin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hyunjin’s kisses were quite indescribable.

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

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

He found you shivering beneath his grasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a slight inconvenience that Hyunjin shook his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hoped with all your heart that Hyunjin would know.

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

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

His kisses did not falter, even when you gasped out his name, a soft cry which only grew when his teeth grazed at your skin. Pain bloomed at the touch, but the feeling did not last long, replacing it with his tongue lapping up the mark. The dull ache remained, yet forgotten as he created a pattern of these stinging sensations.

“____,” he whispered upon your skin, a hypnotic chant which only had you whining in response. His mouth skimmed right up to your ear in frantic. “I...I must show you even more.”

You stilled completely. “E-even more?”

Hyunjin’s eyes did not leave yours as his hands travelled down, holding onto your sides. Slowly, he tugged you forward, your body merely following as he laid you down into the bed. Your heart hammered as he towered over you, the loose shirt revealing a glimpse of his chest, and his locks, drooping down to your face.

Your hands held onto the sheets. The gesture had him melting, so endeared by your little scares. What would you know of what will follow?

His idle fingers began to roam. With every shuddering breath they journeyed further below, until they found the hem of your nightgown. He held onto the fabric, slowly sliding it upwards.

You hissed slightly at the cold that welcomed your bare legs, but it was overshadowed by his warm caresses, every touch causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Or something of the sort. That was what it felt like to you, anyway, with how out of place the reaction was.

You asked him as his fingers paused, right on the edges of your upper thighs. Confusion, mixed with an overwhelming sensation, washed over you with every phantom touch. “What are you—” you paused as his hand tugged your legs open, ever so slightly. “What are you to do with your fingers?”

His answering gaze had you praying for the Lord. “How about I show you instead?” The contact lingered. “I promise it will feel wonderful.”

There was no other answer you could offer him. A hasty nod could only suffice as, with that signal, the duke braced himself for what he had been dreaming to do.

Nothing prepared you for the feeling of his fingers past your thighs.

Your breathing hitched as they teased against your entrance, running slowly along your slit. He collected the arousal which pooled at the apex, mouth agape from your reaction.

How you were drenched for him.

The very sight, and the prolonging idea, had the man exhaling sharply. Even now, he could see in your gaze — you were unaware of your own responses, your body’s hurried joy as it begged for his fingers to delve in further.

Tonight, he would show you a glimpse of his fantasies.

His one finger slipped inside you, and you felt the world turn.

Slowly, so painfully slow it slid between your folds, completely halting your breath as you gaped at him. He held your stare with a dark intensity — no doubt there was hesitation on his part, scared his control would shatter, terrified he would submit to your desire and break you under his hold. Already the thought was so appealing.

Still, he kept his fantasies at bay, holding your face like a fragile artifact as he delved deeper. A soft moan escaped your lips, and he cocked his head, realising it was a whine you tried to contain.

“Angel, please,” he murmured, and when he paused on his journey you looked at him in desperation. “Don’t be shy with me.”

And then, grip on your side tightening, he began to pull his finger out.

This time, it was impossible to restrain.

A heightened gasp shuddered out of you, gripping onto his shirt. How could an action so simple be so electrifying? The idea could not make any sense, but it did not need to when it brought such pleasure. You pulled on the fabric harder, elevating Hyunjin’s joy at seeing you so bothered.

“Yes, just like this,” he cooed, repeating the movement. This time, though, he quickened the pace as he began peppering little kisses upon your face. Each brush of his lips was like fuel to the fire below, growing angrier with every leisured plunge. “Say it all for me.”

You did not need to be told twice.

Your whines grew as he quickened, foreign waves of mysterious origin overtaking your body. You feared his singular finger might be enough to do something drastic, but then his thumb started to wander. When he found your clit, he created a slow pattern of circling the bud, causing you to squirm beneath him.

Seeing him above you was all too much — you needed his lips upon yours, needed to be lost in his tongue or else you would lose your mind. “H-hyunjin,” you stammered out, and the dazed expression had him reeling. “Please...please kiss me.”

He nearly moaned at the request itself. There you were, asking for his touch. His delirium spoke for him, letting his delusion a little astray. “But darling,” he muttered, leaning his face closer to you. “How can I watch you like this if I simply kiss you?”

Releasing his finger till the mere pad remained, he smiled at your panting. “How will I be able to watch you when I do this—” and brought two digits inside you.

He felt your walls pulsate around him, and he revelled in your reactions, the groans that followed with his delving. So, so compliant. So wonderfully welcoming, when all he did was touch the surface.

Your speech was all muddled, broken words and half-prayers as his fingers worked within you. As if that was not enough, he curled them inside, and there, he brushed against a spot which had you seeing stars. You could hardly stay still under his grasp, squeezing your legs together.

“Fuck,” he slipped out, and the curse itself had you fisting your hands in his shirt, damning the turnout if it were to tear. “Sweetheart, it’s okay to let go, keep those legs open.”

Further fastening his labour, you found yourself developing the most intense feeling in your gut — like a dark, swirling ball, aching to be released. You tried to raise your head to kiss him, but he only did the same, you barely missing him.

“Hyunjin!” You gasped out, and the said-man knew that no orchestra could compete with the music you tuned for him. Grabbing clumsily onto his collar, you tried with meak strength to bring him down. “Something...it’s wrong, something is amiss—”

You cut a glance down, where your cunt was more than occupied with his digits. “Wh-what am I feeling?!” In a frenzy you stared at him again, tears pricking your eyes. “Why do I feel—”

The duke only shushed you, a gaze akin to affection being offered to you as he trailed a slender finger upon your cheek. “Oh, sweet angel,” he whispered, voice a little breathless.

“That is me keeping my promise.”

And when he finally swooped your lips in a heart-wrenching kiss, fingers never stopping below, you let the overwhelming feeling take over. The aching was freed, and you broke away with a cry as you released onto him, spilling onto the sheets.

Hyunjin commenced a trail of sweet kisses upon your face, slowing his work inside you. Lethargy washed over you, and you barely sensed him slip his fingers out until the hollowness of your cunt welcomed you in his stead.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, you watched him as he brought the two digits to his parted mouth, sucking softly on the skin. A low noise hummed out of him, and you found yourself growing warmer all over again.

He caught you looking at him, and he slipped his fingers out with a pop!

“Truly divine, you are.”

Skin burning, you quickly shimmied your nightgown down, earning a chuckle from your husband. “That was…” you began, and you did not know why the thought made you so flustered.

“Do not worry your pretty mind, sweetheart,” he reassured you, flicking your nose. “Your release was answer enough.”

That only had you all the more embarrassed. “Hyunjin?”

His eyes rooted to yours. “Yes?”

“Was this…” you paused, trying to find the right words. “Was whatever we did...everything? Was this the end?”

Despite the two of you only finishing now, the duke had his gut turning in on itself all over again. This time, he let patience take over. He had been rewarded more than enough.

He still answered with a hushed tone, offering you another vision. Another promise, which he intended on fulfilling even further.

“Of course not, angel. This was merely the beginning.”

THE NEXT MORNING SAW THE TWO OF YOU IN LONDON.

It was a much more gradual journey than the previous one, with all the time in the world to go back to the duke’s main estate, where he was called to work after weeks of leisure. You, first indignant, were now devastated to leave Hemingford, a place which became a special haven in such a short time.

But of course, one could not neglect their husband. Not when that husband would never let you leave his side.

Hyunjin was all eye-smiles in the carriage, hands refusing to let go of you despite your complaints. You did not particularly mind, but when he resorted to kissing you with the curtains drawn, your levels of embarrassment nearly broke the scale, amusing him to no end.

There was no stopping him, though. After taking the first heated step with you, the vault of restraint in his senses had cracked. All this time he had proceeded with caution, but your heightened whimpers of the night before had undone the cellar of his desires.

Once again, you had experienced another first with him. A first which he wanted to conquer for a long, long time.

Unfortunately, business called, or else he would have stayed a few weeks more. Damn the men begging his presence, when he could have explored every layer of your innocence in that manor, revelled in ruining you of your ignorance.

He thought he had time to show the world of pleasure.

Alas, the fantasy he created in his Manor had to fade.

Reality crashed upon the two of you unfairly quick — there was not a moment’s rest as you arrived at Lansdowne, the official estate of the Hwang family nestled in Mayfair. It was more an enchanting palace than a home, every room, furniture and painting like pieces out of a fairytale. You could never forget the first time you entered, knowing that despite your previous comforts, you were to be spoiled in this abode.

The unfavourable situation which turned out from this was that your husband was not present to spoil you in his royal den.

As the days began there, with banality taking over, the two of you barely had any occasion to spend some time together. Business sunk its claws into the duke, refusing to show mercy. All the days and most nights, he managed tenants on his lands, heard their complaints and attempted to provide solutions.

The problems arose while he was away tending to you in your getaway, his subordinates incapable of handling the work he did so effortlessly. It frustrated Hyunjin to no end, when he had to learn these strategies since his adolescence, yet his employees, far older than him, could not manage to use his funds efficiently.

Although this meant time was sparse together, you did not mind so terribly. Having solitude meant having opportunities to write, and so you threw yourself into your drafts. You revised the more intimate scenes between your couple, and dared write down your first experiences onto the page.

Even documenting the occurrence had your stomach fluttering — when he kissed you delirious, going as far as slipping his fingers inside you. It felt like a delusion in your mind, scared that you merely created such events through your imagination, but you could not not make up such passion.

Hwang Hyunjin had shown you a very tangible fantasy.

It was these memories that kept you company as you penned down your world, a couple thousand words being scrawled on paper everyday. You wished to talk to him about taking matters further with your novel, but whenever the two of you had the occasional dinners you could not bring yourself to address the subject. He was already so occupied, and dumping your own tasks on him would devastate you

So you secluded yourself into your room, and only wrote.

Few weeks into Lansdowne, and you began to miss him.

You did not know how this feeling entered, but the moment it crawled into you it was all you could endure. It was not uncommon for you to miss your dear friend, even before marriage, but now that you lived with him, the situation changed. During the afternoons, when you burned your mind from the constant writing, you longed for his presence; conversation never ran dry when he was around, and the maids who offered refreshment were hardly an alternative.

Your longing, unfortunately, did not stop there.

Ever since that fateful night, you failed in shaking off the ever present tingling. His midnight eyes, akin to the devil, haunted you in isolation, and the sheer image of his full lips quickened your heartbeat. In fact, when you wrote a similar recount into your writing, the incident came into your mind so clearly you had to abandon the task altogether. The familiar wetness pooled at your core, and you cursed the heavens for being weak.

His fingers had an everlasting impression on you.

That was a whole other problem — you and Hyunjin, because of his tightening schedule, hardly had any opportunity to explore further of what happened. Teasing words and stolen kisses were your only alternative, and you dared not ask of him to do more. Your cowardice may have been one of the main reasons, but he was another factor of your silence. The man came home every night, so exhausted that even requesting to have him satisfy you brought you shame. He was much too tired, and you could not be selfish.

So you did not bother him. Let him leave every morning, and imagine what would be if he did not have so many responsibilities.

However, another couple of weeks later, and the need became unbearable.

Your every thought and feeling was replaced with this...this urgency. It was horrifying to you, never having been forced to such extremes, but it preyed on your mind like a beast. Meaningless tasks turned into burdens, sleep was lost, and your very heart threatened to burst from the intuitions. You wished to stop, but once you remembered that phantom touch, it was over. There was simply no alternative.

During those times, you could barely look at Hyunjin, offering you tired smiles as he disappeared into your chambers. You figured he did not notice, or else you knew he would make a comment on your worsening state. Truthfully, you were overjoyed that he was too exhausted to see you like this. If there was any chance he was aware, that alone would kill you off.

But this desire, too, was slowly withering you away.

Even as the sun began to descend, birds singing softly beyond your intricate window, soon to be drawn to a close. The library was bathed in gold from the light, painting your face as you attempted to write the last of the chapter, but to little success.

You figured your creativity had had enough of being stuck in your bedroom, so you opted for a change of scenery, but the parasite was at hand, churning just below your stomach. Even with the thousands of books settled all around you, radiating their knowledge, the ache remained, dull yet present. You scowled, pushing the pencil harder in your hand.

The poor lead broke suddenly, making you flinch. “Argh!” you let out, throwing the object upon the desk. Useless — you were so utterly useless, reduced to a mold of nerves, growing with each image that passed in your head.

Cursing, you put your hands in your lap, looking to the gardens beyond the window.

There is nothing you can do, ____.

The need arising, you slid your palms back, enough so they rested over your core.

A dangerous thought entered your mind.

That’s not true. There is one solution.

Your eyes widened.

Of course, there was always that alternative. Glancing down, you involuntarily pressed your palm to your clothed cunt. Already a wave of pleasure washed over you, and you suppressed any sound with a hand to your mouth.

You cannot. By God, you cannot do such a thing.

Especially in a bloody library.

Turning around, you glanced at the bookshelves guarding your figure, stretching to the painted ceiling. As an aspiring writer yourself, you cursed yourself for suggesting to do such an action in your temple, with the place your church and the books your Bible.

However, when the ache begins to creep over, your morality seemed to fade at first flight.

What a shame your brain was not to be listened to.

Shooting up from your chair, you nearly fell to the plush carpet, leaning against the desk. Gradually, you took a step forward, and another, searching for any secluded area among the lines upon lines of populated shelves.

“Where is it, where is it,” you mumbled to yourself, passing the Greek Literature aisle, moving further into the darker section. When you spotted the end of the library, you turned to a dim lit section of Romantic poets. “Aha!” You exclaimed, finding the place you were searching for.

This particular section has been a favourite little hiding place for Hyunjin. Recalling the memories, you always caught him here whenever the two of you played hide-and-seek, or when to comfort him here after a particularly harsh spat with his father, the late Duke of Hastings. Above all else, he found himself isolating here whenever he wished to read by your insistence, finding solace in the words of Blake and Wordsworth, picked up on the shelves.

You, on the other hand, did not come here to read.

Backing up against the wall, you let yourself fall to the lush carpet. There was barely enough space to stretch your hands apart, feeling the wall on one side, and the bookshelves with the other. It was small trouble, though, as space was not the priority — simply distance.

Thankfully, you had time — dinner would be served in about an hour, and the servants had been told not to disturb you as you ‘write’.

It was now or never.

“Lord forgive me.”

Grabbing onto your skirts, you raised them upwards, along with your petticoats. After undressing your pantalettes, your white stockings came into view, ending right above your knees, tied with baby pink ribbons.

With your underwear gone, you felt the cold caressing your dripping cunt. Immediately your fingers rushed to swipe at the arousal that pooled onto the carpet, a hiss escaping your lips. Then, moving higher, you felt the swell of your clit, and began to rub circles, so, so slowly — just like Hyunjin did, exactly like his fingers did.

The ripples of pleasure crashed over you with every swipe of your fingers. It was the most wonderful feeling, experiencing it after a span of weeks. Yes, somewhere in the back of your rational mind, you knew you looked pathetic, whining softly from your own efforts, but your desperation took over; you had been patient long enough.

Your desire, however, had no such moments to waste with such gradual rubbing, so pent up inside you that it forced you to quicken your pace. You prayed that no one heard you, for the sobs that flew out your mouth increased, playing and teasing your clit till it nearly numbed you.

The real bliss poured out when you plunged two of your fingers into you, going deeper and creating that identical pace, relished before. You closed your eyes, and images came flashing back — the midnight eyes returned, along the malicious grin, and suddenly it was not your fingers that pulled and pushed into your cunt. Your mind dared to conjure up Hyunjin, his dark laughter ringing in your ears as he curled his fingers into you, reaching a spot which had you seeing the seven heavens.

So far along, you did not care if the others heard. With your concoction before you, fingering you delirious, you called out his name. A panted “Hyunjin!” squealed out of you, the word laced with madness. How you begged for release, when it was actually in your control.

And maybe you would have come all over your fingers at that moment. Maybe that was a fantasy that would have been rewarded to you if reality had not been so unkind.

For it was reality that arranged a presence turning to his favourite hiding spot. For it was cruel, cruel reality, bringing at your secret aisle the very man who caused your current frenzy.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Sweet Duke of Hastings, who thought to surprise his wife and return home early, so he could join her at dinner this evening. Curious Duke of Hastings, who found the servants informing of your ‘work’ in the library, and so walking to you himself, expecting the distant sound of sighs and scribbles on paper.

Shocked Duke of Hastings, when he heard his name instead, being moaned at the end of his library.

His pupils dilated, gloved fingers hanging on the edge of the shelf, he grew flushed in his attire as he watched your near undoing. You whimpered his name over and over, as if that was your only comfort among the heavy sensation in your gut, the pleasure which numbed your senses. He trailed down to your sopping fingers, clumsy in their rhythm.

A shuddered breath escaped him.

It was then he let out the most self-satisfactory scoff.

That moment, you opened your eyes. Widened when they settled on your husband, face exposing an aghast expression as he crossed his arms, gaze never leaving the mess between your legs.

He had the audacity to grin wickedly.

“Oh my, sweet angel. What do we have here?”

Your entire body stilled, fingers frozen inside of you. Every ounce of strength, which tried to make you speak, abandoned ship.

Noticing clearly, a splutter of hellish laughter spilled from his lips. “All this time,” he began, feline amusement dripping in his voice. “All these lonely, lonely weeks, I was so guilty.” His boots made a soft thump against the carpets, grey longcoat fluttering after him. “I kept thinking, see, of you, so alone and unentertained. Stuck in her chambers all day and night, burning out her brain with her words. Writing of my examples.”

He unbuttoned his overcoat, pinning you with his gaze. “Little did I know you were impersonating me.”

You almost cried with shame.

“God, I doubt I can call you angel, again,” he drawled, tossing his woolen jacket behind him on a nearby chair, pulling off his gloves.

He uncovered his slender hands, continuing, “Not with your fingers still in your cunt.”

That nearly had you in tears — you yanked your digits out, making to push your skirts down in a hurry but were dutifully stopped by his raised voice.

“Pray, darling,” he inquired, and you could taste the ridicule as he stood before you, crouching down. “What do you think you are doing?”

He did not give you time to answer as he grabbed your hand, half-soiled by your endeavours. “Why have you stopped the show when the intended audience has arrived?”

All these questions messed with your senses, squeezing your thighs together as the high, threatening to undo you before, began to fade. “Hyunjin—” you said, but you were interrupted, as, with his hand, he lifted your trembling figure with ease. Legs unstable, you let him steer you until your back hit the bookshelves.

“Another notion puzzles me too.” His golden locks skirted along as he cocked his head.

“Why did you scream my name when you touched yourself?”

Your mouth parted, remembering your incessant whining. The thought caused your entire body to burn up, your husband taking instant note. “Come on, now, darling,” he taunted, grip on your hand tightening. “We both know you are more than capable of speaking.”

It was surprising how you managed to speak, despite the phantom touches.

“I…” you paused, embarrassed that you tried to tell him the truth. “I do not know...damn it!” you hissed as you saw a phantom smile accompanying his hands. “I had this...this need, Hyunjin. Everytime I recalled that night, I…all I wanted was some sort of...release.”

“Oh?” he got out, and he had to cage you with his hands for his own stability.

The thought of you, withering in pleasure — pleasure you did not realise you yearned for — had his mind transcending any sense. There he was, stirring the cauldron of desire bubbling in your veins, your face twisting in pain from your lack of knowledge.

He had to pray for forgiveness for his mentality, but at this moment in time, he only knew of one religion. You, and your wishes, whispered in panted breaths.

“If that was what you felt, then why did you not tell me?”

If it was not for his hand gripping yours, you would have covered your face. “How could I?” you whined out. “You were so busy! I could never be selfish enough to put myself before you.”

His heart nearly burst from his chest. “My darling,” he hummed, stroking away the flyaways upon your face. “Do you not realise that I put you before myself?”

Your confusion had him continuing. “If you had told me that you had such...needs, then I would have damned the work to hell.”

Suddenly, you wished you were the most selfish person in the world.

“Every wish, your every want…” his eyes promised the world. “It is mine to bring it to you.

“So tell me, angel.” His fingers lingered on your face. “What do you want?”

Alas, that fated question.

What you wanted was to tell him without doubt that you wished for his fingers inside you again. What you wanted was your husband fulfilling his promises, showing you more, more, more until you forgot your name from the sheer force.

You hated how your speech could never voice it out loud with confidence.

The man noticed your face warming beneath his touch as you stammered, “I-I want—” pausing from his fingers on your cheek, “Hyunjin, I want you to…”

Your pathetic attempts had him chuckling. “So innocent to me still?” He asked softly. “Even when I caught you moaning my name like a whore in the night?”

Whore. Sane you would have slapped him for saying such a thing, but the arousal that pooled at the term meant completely different. He was aware of your reaction, causing him to be compliant.

One day, he would voice it out of you. One day, you would say from your own mouth that you wished for ruination.

“How about this, ____?” he started. He brushed a small kiss upon your forehead, heart fluttering at the chaste action. “When you want me to stop, voice that out instead.” The next kiss was upon the tip of your nose.

You thought up a worrying confession, but when you saw his expression change, you realised you blurted it out.

“I don’t think I would want you to stop, Hyunjin.”

The molten lust in his eyes nearly undid you then and there. He offered you a low, satisfied growl, wondering how in God he could ever resist you.

“I don’t think I would be able to, angel.”

He did not say any more, swooping down and enveloping your lips with his.

You instantly accepted him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him closer, closing your eyes and letting him paint an artwork of desire upon your mouth. You could tell he was trying to be gentle, but your confession cracked the glasshouse of desire he had tended for so long.

His tongue was inside your mouth at once, and you relished its desperation, letting it explore all of you as his hands wandered down, your own sliding into his locks. Softer than all the silks in the land, you already felt the moans bubble within your throat, partially escaping with every parting. His heavy breathing in your ears only wished for all distance to fade.

There was so much of him, all at once — you had shared kisses with him after that fated night, but you knew those kisses were the sole form of affection he could offer in those lonely weeks. The way he bit your bottom lip, soft and then a little harder, had you losing all sense.

It was such things that made you realise how much you missed his presence.

Tearing away from your lips, he gave fevered attention to your neck, trailing his kisses down your skin, open and wet and restless. “Hyunjin—” you began, but then you gritted your teeth at the pain of his suction upon your throat. His hands pushed you further into the shelves, and a few books began to fall at the force.

“H-Hyunjin!” you exclaimed, eyes darting frantically to the classic editions that scattered on the floor. “W-wait, not here!”

The man blinked in his haze of desire, looking at you. “Huh?” he got out, spit-slick lips parted, his whole body raising from his breaths. “Why not?”

“The-the books, they...!” you tried to explain, but with the stare he offered, you quietened within moments. “...Hyunjin?”

His answer was his hand taking your wrist and turning from the secluded corner. He steered you out of the hiding place, pace hurried with each step he took. Head whirling to every aisle, he cursed under his breath, finding the spaces between the shelves filled only with books.

“What are you...searching for?!” you demanded in bated breaths, but then he let out a satisfied noise as he found an open aisle, the first line of shelves in the library.

In front of those shelves sat a large, wooden step ladder — no doubt there to grab onto the higher sectioned novels. A knowing smirk enveloped his features as he led you to where it stood, backing you against it.

A small yelp escaped you as the man hoisted you upon the steps, you holding onto his shoulders as he slithered his arms around your waist. “There,” he said, tilting his head slightly upwards. “Now you shan’t worry about your novels falling.”

“Easy for you to say!” you crowed, already feeling unstable, despite sitting on the sixth step. “This time it might be me falling!”

“Well then,” he began, tugging your legs apart till he fit snug between them, “You just have to hold on tight, don’t you?”

Oh, you were going to kill him.

Leaning forward, he halted your breath, brushing his lips across your neck. “I can stop if you wish,” he whispered on your skin. His hand rested over your chest, where it rose unevenly under his palm. When you did not answer he looked up, climbing so he levelled with your face.

You felt his heavy breathing fan your lips. “Do you want me to stop, angel?”

His eyes saw right through you — with the way a malicious smile began playing at his lips, he knew his answer long before you registered it yourself.

Head shaking hurriedly, you murmured out your response as you grabbed onto the lapels of his longcoat.

“Never.”

You pulled him down, desire taking control of your senses as he undid you with his lips. His hands, sliding down, hitching your skirts higher than before, bunching it at your waist. Never giving himself a break on your mouth, he peeled off his coat, tossing it beside the ladder. Only when you broke away to take a panted breath did he begin his descent — kisses on your neck dragged down further, along your clothed abdomen until he parted, shuffling the fabric from between your thighs.

An uneasy fuck flew from his mouth — your glistening cunt welcomed him again, the recollections of the last honeymoon night crashing back.

In truth, the events had not left his mind. The memories of his fingers playing with you, inciting those sinful sounds were the few things which brought him a high in the dark days of work. You, drenched by his efforts, dripping for him, and only him, to take care of you.

Seeing the sight before had Hyunjin restraining his cock. Fuck, he thought, leaning closer till his face was a mere inch from the center. He did not comprehend the consequences of this; what if he went crazy? A part of him was distinctly aware that if you were heavenly around his fingers, then you with his tongue would transcend reality.

Hands holding the back of your knees, he slung your legs over his shoulders, securing his fingers upon your thighs. With one last inhale, he closed the distance.

Nothing compared to his tongue running along your slit.

A hiss left you at the contact, tendrils of pleasure curling up your spine as he explored the edges of your cunt. He was teasing, being too leisured for your liking — he could not help himself, fearing he would rush the process and end it too quickly.

He wanted to be inside you the entire night.

Your incessant whining had him lapping up the wetness, gripping onto your legs a little harder as he delved in further, tasting your arousal and letting out a satisfied noise. Leaning your head back against the higher steps, your hands carded through his hair, his locks a comfort for the slow torment below.

When his tongue dove upwards, circling your clit, an obscenely loud moan tumbled out of you. He was so exceptional, so good at what he did to you, licking away at the bud as if he had not been served for days. Your whining was more encouragement for his antics, increasing his strokes with a slight curve to his lips.

What reduced you to choked gasps was an old prospect from the first night — his digits, leaving one of their spots on your leg and slipping one inside your folds. As if his tongue was not enough, that singular finger created a rhythmic pattern of plunging in and out of you.

You thrashed under his grip, hips rolling giddily along with his work. Even the ladder began to shudder, jutting slightly back and forth from your desperation. Although the squeeze on your thigh was an indication to calm down, you ignored it, too intoxicated by the thrusts of his tongue to realise his signal.

He made you realise as he paused his ministrations entirely. You nearly shrieked at the lack of his presence, but then you looked down, and found his lust-hazed eyes staring at you.

“H-Hyunjin?” You mumbled, voice raspy from your previous moaning.

The slick glazed on his lips brought you another level of high. “I need you to stay still, darling,” he voiced, slender hand gripping onto your thigh. “You even have the poor ladder shaking.”

You willingly nodded your head, knowing you were lying through your teeth. If he continued with his tongue prodding at your clit, then you would start trembling from the thrill.

“I don’t think I believe you,” he mused, blowing on your drenched cunt. Seeing you shiver had him chuckling. ”I need you to be still if you want true pleasure, sweetheart.”

An ironically chaste kiss upon the edges of your thigh gave you more reason to grip him harder. “I want you to enjoy this as much as I am.”

As much as I am.

Good, sweet Lord.

Maybe you will never move an inch again.

“K-keep going,” you whispered, near frantic as you played with his locks. “Please.”

The please at the end was exactly what he needed before he pounced into you again.

His tongue was relentless — a second finger joined in the venture, and the fullness of him was back again, with an intensity that only promised satisfaction. You knew it was coming, with the heaviness in your lower abdomen.

You needed that release. Whatever it took, it was the only image in your mind, taunting you of the relief that came with it. With the hard grip of his locks, your husband sensed it straight away, quickening his pace with both his tongue and digits.

Damn Hwang Hyunjin to Hell, for he was so unfairly good to you — licking your clit to a frenzy, touching a certain spot inside you, over and over again. He never missed, never faltered his labour as the burden inside you intensified. You sang his praise in your stained mind, hoping he could see the joy on your face.

“Hyunjin—!” You whined out, stealing a glance at his head, moving back and forth slightly between your legs. “It’s—the feeling, the one before—!”

You did not have to say anything else; his free hand, wrapping fully around your slung over leg, made you realise of his awareness. The feeling was at its peak then — one more of his stripe along your cunt, and it was over.

Fortunately for you, the Duke of Hastings kept his promises.

One little nibble of your bud, plunging in his two fingers at the same time, and it was useless. Your release came rushing through, cries escaping your lips as you undid yourself onto his mouth. All sense of surroundings abandoned you: you were drifting away, like a kite losing its roots, further and further as his fingers slowed. You feared that you would lose all sense until his tongue lapped up the release. His hums of satisfaction anchored you back into the library, hands at your hips as he heaved upwards, watching over your dazed expression.

You saw his every move, licking the remnants of your release off on his face. He then hovered closer, locks more sweat slick as they caressed your skin.

“God, angel,” he rasped out, holding your chin with his stained fingers. “You…I can’t...I can’t get enough of you.”

He stole a kiss upon your mouth, but your shy whines caused him to go deeper, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip. “Shit,” he whispered as he parted from your lips. “You must stop me, ____. I cannot take you all at once, I…no matter how much I wish, I cannot...fuck, I cannot taint you.”

And maybe it was your husband, admiring you like a poet would his muse. Maybe it was something more than the dull ache inside you, the flutter moving to your heart which had you saying the next words.

“But I...” you paused, every panted breath heavy. “I never…never asked you to stop.”

Hyunjin stilled completely before you.

His eyes were too much, but you did not stop the confession pouring out. “If...if there is something more, I…” his thumb on your chin hardened.

“I want to know. I want to see it all...even if it may taint me.”

There it was.

The thoughts which haunted you for the past few weeks. You wanted more, even if that meant that this more would one day be satiated. You wanted to see the end, the final stage, because you knew deep down, your best friend was still holding back from you.

You saw it in his eyes. You saw his unadulterated desires, dark and fearful, yet you wanted to be surrounded by his darkness.

You wanted Hwang Hyunjin to break you like he wished.

Sure enough, he saw it all over your face too. His jaw turned slack, and he debated slamming his head against the shelves to make sure he was not dreaming.

He did not think his wife would let him have a moment’s peace.

“God help you, sweet angel,” he murmured, glancing at your dress — more specifically, how to get you out of it. “I don’t think I can leave you innocent any longer.”

You parted your mouth to speak — Hyunjin was about to interrupt you, perhaps take you to the final stage of your passions.

Everything was about to descend when you heard the shrill knock on the door.

Your heart jumped out of your dress, the man above you catching onto your shock. With an unexpected burst of anger, he turned his head towards the large doors and screamed, “Who the fuck is it?!”

The servant at the opposite side flinched at the tone of voice. “Um, there is a guest in the living room, Your Grace!”

That did not help his case. “Then tell them to piss off!” The Duke demanded, holding onto you a little harder.

“But Your Grace, he urgently requests your presence!” The boy insisted. “We tried telling him of your...distractions, but he would not listen!”

Hyunjin looked like he was about to tear the manor down with his orders, and you widened your eyes, holding onto him. “It’s alright,” you reassured him, and possibly reassuring yourself too.

He glanced at you, and the frenzied stare he pinned you with shut you right up. “Fuck,” he cursed, running an angered hand through his hair, the other not leaving your side — as if you would fade from his grasp.

You feared it too, in truth, that he would disappear. The thought plagued your senses, much more than you would have liked.

“To hell with that bloody guest,” he growled, leaning into you again. He pressed his forehead against yours, cupping your face with his hands. “To hell with everyone.”

“Hyunjin,” you breathed out, relishing the contact. “Hyunjin, it’s okay…” you held his agitated stare, wondering why you were convincing him to go when you wanted him to stay. “I will be here, you know...when you come back.”

He searched your gaze for confirmation, needing to affirm your words. When he found the suppressed desire within, he could not help himself.

He planted his mouth upon yours, finding solace along the lines of your lips — he loved how your every kiss was a comfort, a sweet little sin all for him to enjoy. In honesty, he could spend an eternity basked in your warmth, but alas, reality was a villain in his tale.

Forcing himself to pull away, he ran a tender thumb along your cheek. “I shan’t take long, angel.”

You nodded tiredly, in time to the man holding your waist as he settled you back onto the carpet. Lingering for a few moments, he made himself leave your side, grabbing his coat and donning the heavy fabric. He satiated his desires with a glance towards you, dazed off with your hands clinging the ladder railing still.

A small smile catching onto his lips, he turned on his heel, promising murder to whoever disturbed the moment he dreamed of. Opening the door, he looked back, catching your stare.

The smile upon his face grew wider. A smile so sincere, so loving, with all the world’s miracles nestled upon his pretty mouth. It was a smile that you had never seen before, with all your years beside him — seeing it now had you wishing you could bottle the image and carry it with you forever.

It was a smile which had you so in love with him.

Love.

It was then your heart dropped.

Hyunjin, unaware, closed the door behind him, leaving you to your revelation.

Instantly, you clutched at your chest, heartbeat racing.

In love.

You were in...in love with Hwang Hyunjin.

“No,” you slipped out, mind rushing a mile a minute. “No, no, no, no—”

You gripped the railing harder as the hand on your heart trailed down, shivering from the phantom touches of your husband.

Hell, of the husband that you had fallen for.

One would think love was an entity writers would idolise — your own inspirations searched and indulged in all kinds of love, but you always accepted that an emotion so intense was not for women like you. Love was a rarity. Love was unconditional, strong and vivid and all-consuming.

Love, undoubtedly, was a weakness.

Your breathing turned ragged, hands reaching to clasp your head in panic.

I will be here...when you come back.

Your promise to him, before he left you to your hysteria.

Why would you ever say such a thing to him?

“Oh, no,” you kept chanting, turning over to your side, away from the door and towards the window, where night was small comfort to your nerves.

You could not let yourself succumb to a man. No matter how dear he was to you.

And if that meant staying away from your husband, then so be it.

IT WAS UTTER AGONY AVOIDING YOUR BEST FRIEND IN EVERY PASSING MOMENT.

Perhaps you should have given reasonable explanation to why you decided to distance yourself, but of course, reasonable explanation was never your forte.

Hyunjin, damn him, tried to make more effort in returning home earlier, despite his business demanding his presence with every passing day. You were almost powerless under his tender gaze, but you knew that you could not be swayed.

As if you had not fallen under his spell already.

Your only distraction was your novel, so you did just that — even with your husband in the manor, you closed yourself from everyone, writing furiously on your desk as if committing to anything else would cost your life. The flushed skin did not shy away as you wrote of your second experience, changing the events slightly so they fit your story. The memories tried to torture your mind, but you refused to submit. You could not fall for Hyunjin.

You could not fall for a man.

The duke did not realise of your avoidances, simply thinking that you evading his more heated kisses, his dangerous touches, was a result of your fatigue. He understood, knowing you worked your brain as hard as he. He was upset, obviously, when he craved your touch every waking second. For you, though, he would do anything. If that meant waiting, he would do that too.

However, your recoiling could only last so long. Your best friend knew you like the back of his hand.

He figured something was amiss when he decided to grace you with his presence one evening, expecting another show of your moans behind the door, only to have the distant scribbling of ink against paper. Entering inside, he awaited your surprise, your unadulterated joy, bracing himself to have his arms engulfed with your hug.

In reality, he received a mumble of blessing, and the continuing scribbling.

He was not trying to coax you into giving him affection. He was well aware of how hard you worked on your novel, but that day, he dearly wished you would abandon your project for just a night. Just one, single night, so he could show you how much he missed you every single moment.

Poor, unfortunate man. How was he to know that your affection was the one thing you could not give him?

Another few days into the silence, and Hyunjin had had enough.

He called to you one dinner, ushering the servants away with the flick of his hand. The dining room became all the more huge, like a lush vault, perfect for a sweet interrogation as the velvet curtains drew to a close, and the eyes of a hundred paintings focused on you. You swirled the soup with your spoon, refusing to look at him.

“Darling?”

Damn him and his endearments. “Hmm?”

The man, too, seemed to be unsure of how to talk of the subject. “Is…” he put his cutlery on the table. “Is everything...alright as of late?”

Your gaze remained rooted to your food. “Of course,” you said. “Why would I not be?”

There was a heavy silence in the room, new and uncertain between the two of you. Your friendship with the duke had never been filled with such quiet — why were you creating such awkwardness around him?

You already knew the answer.

“Do counter me if I speak incorrectly,” he began, grabbing the stem of the wine glass. “But I have noticed you to be quite...secluded.”

“I am busy, Hyunjin,” you said curtly. “I have a whole novel to edit.”

His lips twitched downwards before opening his mouth, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a small sip. “I know you do, and you know I am proud of you for it.”

Choosing to not say anything, you tried finishing off your dinner, aware that you were losing your appetite. It seemed your husband did not want to back down tonight. “____, I feel as if you are hiding something from me.”

The spoon in your hand nearly clattered in the bowl. “And why would you think that?”

“Because—!” Hyunjin paused, downing some more wine. “I do not know, but I feel as if you do not want to speak to me.”

He was too smart for his own good. “You are imagining things,” you waved him off, finding your salad fork oh so interesting in the candlelight.

“Look at me.”

His voice stopped you cold.

Your gaze scrambled to meet his, and although his command was rough, his eyes exposed a completely different emotion.

Pure concern washed over his features as he muttered, “Have I done something wrong?”

That question broke your heart.

“No, no, of course not,” you quickly said. You bit your lip in guilt, watching him sigh, almost in relief.

This was the consequences of your actions. A man who had done nothing unjust, yet was being punished. Pure shame coursed through your veins, catching the distress on his face, and you wondered whether you were being cruel. Maybe this time, your feelings were exaggerated.

If you were aware of such truths, then why could you not look your best friend in the eye?

That night, you hurried to bed, leaning on the edge in wait for him. Your thoughts were in disarray; your heart impatiently desired his return, and your brain berated you for daring to.

Truthfully, it was horrifying how you had become so dependent on someone, when your entire life you relied on the fantasies in your head. Although your revelation was every lady’s dream in society, you felt as if another burden had been dumped upon your shoulders. This time, though, this burden would last for the rest of your life.

These thoughts were your singular company, when you lay awake all night. You were acutely aware of Hyunjin slipping between the sheets, but you did not move a muscle. A small part of you knew that if you turned, you would be unable to resist his whimsical gaze and wandering touches.

So you lay rigid, only letting yourself sleep till your best friend submitted himself to oblivion.

He, too, could not bear to live like this.

The Duke of Hastings was not a fool. He had not known you for over a decade to discard you lying through your teeth. It was beyond his understanding the reasoning of your change, but it deeply disturbed his soul.

He turned in the bed, watching your back bathed in moonlight. Why would you not tell him what bothered you? What had he done wrong?

As he watched you stay rooted in one position, his thinking turned to dark corners. A realisation struck him; you started acting this way the day after he nearly took you in the library.

This alarmed him greatly — was that why you were so troubled? Were you...uncomfortable with his touch?

His heart dropped down to his gut.

If you truly detested his affection, then he would not know what to do with himself. Recently, it was all that haunted him — you, you, and a little more you, strolling through his mind as if it were your domain, creating stories underneath his eyes. It only worsened when he discovered your sweet moans, triggered by his kisses and touches. God, the very thought of you, whining his name as you touched yourself, brought him a familiar feeling amplified. So ardently he wished to taint you further.

Even thinking of the images had him clutching his pillow tighter, fingers aching to turn you over.

However, the harsh fact was that you could not bear to look at him, and he had to live with that. Questioning you was of no use.

Hyunjin only prayed that he did not scare you off.

Unfortunately for him, his prayers were not to be answered.

Days passed, and the distance grew. The man dared not say a word to you in fear you would stray further, and you dared not approach him in fear you would fall harder. It was the most abhorrent situation, and you knew you had to get away somehow.

Fate spoiled your plans when Hyunjin revealed some news.

You looked at the invitation in slight horror. “A ball?”

Scratching the back of his neck, he explained further. “When we were...interrupted that day…” he sighed a little. “It was Seungmin who was downstairs.”

“Kim Seungmin? Has he returned from the States?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “And he has decided that the first thing he wishes to do is throw a huge ball in celebration of his return.” A roll of eyes followed. “Forever the dramatist.”

You restrained your laughter. “It has been over 2 years since we met,” you wondered out loud.

“Well, you can meet him at his estate when we attend the ball.”

He felt your eyes on him as he declared his words. Awaiting your outright rejection, settling down on the chair in the living room. You watched his thighs tense under the peach trousers as he folded a leg over the other — damn him for being too attractive to refuse.

“Very well,” you only said, not ignoring the nerves which threatened to take over. They increased a little at seeing the smile on your husband’s face.

You needed to stop leading the man on. Never could you go to the ball with him.

“It is a week from now,” he added, bobbing his foot excitedly. “I shall write back in acceptance as soon as possible!”

Nodding, you returned to your reading, hoping the faux conversations were enough distraction.

A week. Seven days to somehow escape from this event, or else everyone would see you enter the ball as an official couple, and then your fate as another man’s property would be sealed.

Had he ever made you feel as such?

You did not let yourself ponder over this further. Your only objective was getting out of this invitation.

However, you were a duchess. Trying to hide yourself from London society was an unattainable feat.

The reminder had you nearly ripping the page off your book, too stressed to read on.

This became your focus of the next week, pondering over the night of the ball, scouring your mind with the possibilities which may occur at Seungmin’s estate. As the days neared, Hyunjin insisted you go shopping in search of a special ball gown, and you only obliged so you did not have to be in the same house as him. Still, if he was not there physically, his image preyed upon you in the markets, constantly reminded of his opinions and likings in every fabric you ran your hands upon.

There was no escaping him. You were disgustingly obsessed.

Purchasing everything you needed, you requested it to be charged on Hastings’ tab, a privilege awarded to you ever since your joining with the duke. You always argued that you wished to spend your own money, but he would not listen.

“But I adore spoiling you, angel,” he would merely say, and buy up half the boutique, leaving you a flustered mess. The conversations did not leave you as you bought your dresses and accessories, returning home and dreading interaction.

Excusing yourself, you shut yourself in your room once more, and wrote.

Wrote away your soul in the last days, till it was the morning of the fated event. The sun shone magnificently on your home, but failed to radiate its light on your darkened mood. You had no choice on the matter — you were to accompany Hyunjin to Seungmin’s celebrations, and that was final.

You were about to fake typhoid when a letter arrived for you.

It was from your mother; she wrote in question of your wellbeing, and how much she felt your absence in the house. The content was not very interesting, and you debated writing back with a lack of enthusiasm when you read the last section.

She mentioned tonight’s ball — more significantly, how she felt ever so lonely without you with her, “enlivening her spirits”. The praises were nothing further from the truth, but it was her confession which had an idea rushing to your head.

“Lonely without me, huh?” you murmured, as you rang a bell for a maid. Arriving, you requested for a little trunk, asking for your new dress and other adornments to be packed. “For once, Mama, you have been useful.”

The packing did not take much time, the other servants calling for a carriage as you made preparations to leave for a night. Hyunjin, making his presence known, descended down the stairs, a grin upon his face as his hand fished in his inner pockets.

When he saw your endeavours, though, his beaming flickered. “What is going on here?” he asked, refusing to look away from your luggage.

You turned to him, mustering up the bravado to face him with your decision.

“I received a letter from Mama this morning,” you explained to him in faux ease, gesturing for the servants to bring your belongings outside. “She is feeling rather lonesome, so I thought to see her.”

The man was not convinced in the slightest. “Since when did you garner sympathy for your mother?”

Never confide in your best friend again. “Please,” you stressed, holding the letters in your hands. “She still took care of me the best she could. Plus, I would never want to be lonely at that age.”

He was not listening to this explanation though, his hands going into his pockets. “When will you be back, darling?”

The endearment made this all the worse. “The morning after.”

A heavy pause instilled on the both of you before he broke it. “But...but the ball. A-are you to just...abandon the invitation altogether?”

“No!” you began, locking your hands behind your back. “No, I shall meet you at Seungmin’s estate. It is a small setback, but—”

“____, this will be our first social event as husband and wife!” he countered, you grimacing at his minor outburst. “I want you by my side when we walk down the steps!”

“But I will be there, Hyunjin!” you exclaimed. “I do not understand why you suddenly want to follow these silly traditions!”

Gritting his teeth, your friend pinned you with his stare, growing fiery the longer you held it. Traditions never interested him, but this one had been a certainty he had been looking forward to. The image of you, descending the stairs with your hand on his arm, brought him an absurd amount of joy.

But there you were, bursting his bubble of dreams.

“Why is this all coming to light today?” he muttered, taking a step towards you. “Why, on the day of the event, you decide to tell me that you would rather go with your mother, who never truly cared for you, than me?”

Than me, who always did?

You dared not answer his question truthfully — instead, you let your undeserved anger take the reins of your tongue.

“So you are already suspicious!” you snapped. “Why am I not surprised in the slightest?”

His eyes narrowed at the statement. You did not look into it further as you turned on your heel, heading towards the door. “Do not run away from me, ____!” He shouted, following after you. “Tell me what you implied from that horrendous comment!”

“Oh, let me uncover it clearly for you, dearest,” you snarled, standing at the doorway. The words which were to leave your mouth had sure consequences, but in the moment, you did not care. All you wanted then was an escape.

“You accuse me of scheming and demand me things which I do not want to give you.”

Your hand gripped the letter behind you. “You’re becoming the one thing I feared, Hyunjin. You’re turning into a typical male.”

The man froze entirely at your claims.

Did not utter a defense against him as you sighed out, glancing away from his shell-shocked eyes. You did not bid your farewells as you descended down the stairs, reigning in your temptation to look back as you made your way to your transport through the gardens.

As you slipped inside the carriage, clasping your hands in your lap, you wondered whether you had taken a step too far.

You wondered, with rising dread, whether you had broken your best friend’s heart.

MAYBE RUNNING TO YOUR MOTHER HAD NOT BEEN THE BEST OF IDEAS.

Biggest reason being that she was truly a pain in the rear. The moment your carriage had arrived on the rocky entryway of your mother’s manor, she rushed down the steps. After engulfing you with an embrace which might have caused a minor stroke, she hurried you inside, her servants bringing your possessions.

You did not particularly miss your previous abode, although it gave you small relief. You passed the familiar hallways, and settled in the nostalgic parlour room where your mother gushed over your presence.

Still, this manor did not seem like home to you.

Conversation was mostly struck from your opposite, you nearly silent as the woman vented out her frustrations of every family in London, drinking her tea and urging you to take a biscuit or two. Your stomach was void of an appetite, missing other emotions which you abandoned on the other side of the city.

By the time evening arrived, all you wished to do was hide yourself into your old room, but your mother would not accept. Having the maids open your trunk, they brought out the ball gown you had picked for the occasion.

It was a dark, seductive red, swell of its puffs cuffed with black lace — this lace scattered over the fabric, lining not only the neckline but down the chest, rose-like stitches etched onto the bust. The high-waistline also bled further black stitching, almost all over the gown as it fell to the floor, with a midnight ribbon trailing at the back.

You bit back a fevered sigh. Hyunjin would have adored this gown.

The thought had you pursing your lips, requesting the gown be pressed. Then, walking over to the dressing table, you settled yourself onto the seat, using the accessories bought previously to style yourself. With the assistance of a few maids, you managed to accentuate your hair, adding small pearls within the locks.

The ballgown came back in an instant, and you undressed yourself, waving away the girls in your room. Firstly, you slipped on a thin chemise — then, you allowed a maid to enter to help with the corset, who tightened it at the back without mercy to your body. Barely able to breathe, you loosened it slightly after the girl left, focusing your attention on the gown. After adorning the petticoats and white stockings, you adorned your attire, slowly as to not crease its fabric. Hooking the back yourself, you turned to the mirror, holding the black gloves.

There was no doubt about this countenance — it was exactly to your husband’s taste. Clamping your lips together, you donned the gloves, the silk smooth beneath your touch as you filled them to the fingertips. With one final peek at yourself, you slipped into your shoes, and left the bedroom.

You were a fool to think of any other person but your mother welcoming you at the entrance, but wishful thinking had always been your flaw. Her string of compliments had you adorning a ghost of a smile, but you did not say much as you both climbed into the carriage, instructing to journey to Seungmin’s estate.

Without a novel to distract you, you fell into a habit of clasping and unclasping your hands as you sat, waiting for the ride to be over. Your mother was small comfort as she filled the silence for you, but even her voice strained your mood — you wished for other discourse, or other meaningless entertainment.

You ached for laughter.

Whatever. This was your consequence. You must bear with it.

If your mother knew of your troubles, she certainly did not voice them out loud. She did ask of your relationship with Hyunjin, but you waved her off with false reassurances — you could not have her prying into your private life.

“I hope he has burned off your silly writing fancy!” she drawled, catching the lights of the destination flickering closer to our transport. “As a wife you have much more important duties.”

Gazing afar through the window, you spoke your truth. “Actually, Mama, he encourages it.” A small chuckle escaped you. “I think he wants me to be an author more than I do.”

“Oh?” The woman brought a hand to her chin, impressed. “That is a rare occurrence indeed.”

Catching your raised brow, she scoffed. “Do not gawk as if you are not aware of men. I am shocked he has given you freedom.”

You listened to her, watching the estate linger closer. “Child, you have found a man who does not restrict you in your passions. I do not know how you accomplished such a feat, but you must be extremely thankful.” A glance was stolen towards her. “Such husbands only exist in those books you love so much.”

Before you could comment on her statement, the carriage slowed to a stop, reaching the final stop. The footmen opened the doors, and your mother stepped out first before you followed, careful not to ruin your dress on the pathway.

The crowds had you leading inside the estate, luxury which could compete with the Duke of Hastings being exulted in every corner of the interior. Dozens of lords, ladies and other aristocrats wandered in all places of the house, your own mother being swept away by her friends in her social circle. Your presence felt less relevant with each passing second, fearing you would lose yourself in the rush of golden curtains, rose perfume and unwelcome conversation.

You thought that this ball would grant solitude, but then you heard the bright drawl of a familiar lord.

“By God, is that my dear bookworm I see before me?”

Jumping from the voice, you whirled on your heel. A surprised smile caught on your face.

“Seungmin?”

The said-man returned your shock with a mischievous grin. Lord Kim Seungmin changed greatly since the last time you saw him — what was once thinned, pale cheekbones were now full and golden, amplifying his eye-smile, which he did not lose in the Americas. He was adorned in navy blue, contrasting with his off-coloured pants, black hair styled effortlessly away from his forehead.

“My goodness!” he began, strolling over to you with his mahogany cane. “Even after two years you upkeep your radiance.”

“You flatter me,” you said as your smile widened. “You certainly have changed. I adore the tan!”

“I fear you are the sole admirer,” he confided, narrowing his gaze at his incoming guests. “As if I wish to look like a ghost among men!”

“You have earned my approval, at least,” you complimented in earnest. “Not that it would matter much.”

Seungmin scoffed at your comment. “Says one of the most affluent women in the country! When were you going to tell me you were Hyunjin’s bride?”

Your irritation sparked as your heartbeat raced. “It was very recent, I admit. I would have sent word, but it would not have reached you.”

“I daresay I am not surprised.”

You peered at him, then. “No?”

He gave you an incredulous look. “My dear, everyone anticipated the occasion. Only you were clueless to the possibility.”

Gritting your teeth, you jabbed him with your hand, causing him to chuckle. “Ow! I was hoping you would mature by this time! No doubt your duke encourages this!”

Preferring to stay silent on the matter, Seungmin continued on the subject, making it difficult. “Where is he, by the way? Gossip tells me it is your first ball as a couple.”

“Is he not here?” A shake of his head had your nerves creeping back. “Oh, um, my mother was alone, so I thought to accompany her instead.”

You nearly grimaced at his callous features. “How bizarre,” he murmured. He then offered you his arm. “If so, then allow me to accompany you in his absence.”

Accepting his arm, he helped you navigate your ways through the huge foyer, the grand stairs welcoming you two as dozens upon dozens of aristocrats came into view — the host nodded his head in greeting at every passerby, leading you down each step, until your feet landed on the floor of the ballroom.

Examining the area, you marvelled at the pastels colouring each wall, corner and crevice of the vast space in the room. Sweet music filled the air, and murmurs of many ladies and gentlemen resonated everywhere around you, growing louder as their eyes rested on you, your sensual attire, and the lack of husband on your arm.

“How about a dance, Duchess?” Seungmin asked you as he brought you closer to the center.

Instantly you shook your head, stopping in your tracks. “No,” you refused, tugging on his arm. “I have no wish for dancing this evening.”

“As if you ever have,” he mused, earning your glare. “I presume you await for your beau? Everyone knows you dance first with him.”

A sharp breath exhaled from your nose. “Nevermind that, just take me where the cakes are.”

Laughter spilled from his lips, stirring you to the refreshments. “As you wish, ____.”

Making your way through the guests, you finally ended up where the food resided, tables lined from one corner of the room to the other, flanked in every type of nourishment. Your gaze found stands of cakes, and you left your hand on your friend’s arm, raised towards the deserts. As soon as a servant handed you a plate, the chocolate cake was in your hold.

“Honestly,” the host started, as you cut a piece with a fork, digging straight in. “And they call you the pinnacle of grace!”

“Who in heaven said that?” you asked, baffled as you ate another small piece. Seungmin, snapping his fingers, brought a tray of champagne over to you. Picking up two flutes, you began, “For me?”

Downing the first, he offered you a grin. “What made you think that?” he replied, already sipping the second. “My party, my alcohol.”

This time you giggled at his demeanour, he handing you a drink as you finished your cake. The bubbly goodness was welcomed, warming you up and calming your senses.

After the third glass, the champagne-induced man let out a huge sigh. “Right!” he exclaimed, propping the glasses on the table beside you. “I must find myself a pretty lady to dance with.”

“Do try to stay on your feet, Seungmin,” you said, raising your flute in toast.

“No promises!” he merely countered, disappearing into the crowd.

Your smile faded at the isolation which hit.

There you were — hundreds of people surrounding you, many potential partners to dance with, yet there you were, hand not in another hand but wrapped around your alcohol.

You could not blame a single soul. This was all your doing.

That had you consuming the champagne to the last drop.

At least there was some form of relief in this ball, as you watched Seungmin and about a dozen couples form a circle at the center of the room. With the first opening of the music the host led his partner, all the others following suit.

Watching the waltz had you remembering the last dance, the fateful night where this union came into fruition. Your friend’s smile, his hand on another’s waist, all these images reflected the very same you experienced many weeks before.

You bit the inside of your cheek, reminiscing deeper and deeper. You hated how every fibre of your body ached for his presence. The worst part was that it was not mere lust, or the carnal desire which erupted at his thought.

You longed for him — his banter, his mischievous eyes, and his rather heart-wrenching smile.

The music heightened, the climax of the dance falling on the ball room as Seungmin whirled and whirled his partner, a string of giggles faintly heard from the crowd. When he twirled her one last time, he caught her instantly, at perfect harmony with the ending of the sweet melody.

Applause scattered across the hall as the couples bowed to each other.

A curse escaped you then.

There was simply no doubt of your feelings — avoiding him could never be the solution.

This revelation may have arrived at the perfect time.

Because, as the music played once more, a figure emerged at the entrance.

The murmurs, one by one like a slow wave, died down as they caught sight of him, gazes shocked.

Sipping your champagne, quite puzzled, you turned to the origins for this change of atmosphere.

Every atom in your body stilled.

Froze completely at the sight which stood at the foot of the steps.

You were unable to suppress his name.

“Hyunjin.”

It was as if, by a miracle, he heard your shivered whisper — his eyes skimmed the crowd, frantic beneath the calm.

They found you in the chaos.

Your very breath disappeared from your lungs.

Hwang Hyunjin looked like the devil’s greatest fantasy; as if he stole the night and imprisoned it in his attire. He was adorned in lustrous black, waistcoat patterned with red swirls of velvet. His collar was slightly ruffled, cravat of midnight as it barely brushed against his chin. His tailcoat somewhat glistened in the chandelier light, dark leather boots still as he stood before the hall.

His greatest change was his hair. Once golden like the lights of heaven, it was now as black as the underworld. Half of the locks were swept up in a ponytail, the rest curling at his shoulders.

The flute nearly dropped from your hands.

Seungmin, finding his friend on the steps, burst into a smile. “Hastings!” he broke through the silence with enthusiasm. With his voice the crowd fell into frenzied discourse, the host making his way through his guests, strolling towards the new arrival. “By God, it has been too long!”

Hyunjin hummed, not particularly interested in what he had to say. His gaze from you did not stray for a heartbeat. Seungmin, catching on, wrapped a hand around his friend’s shoulder. “I see you only came for one person,” he said, leading him to where you stood.

Champagne was not the only substance which heated you further, cheeks growing warmer the closer he walked over to you. Every move he emitted exuded sensuality, as if his bones were made of silk.

You let yourself to a third serving when he stopped before you, Seungmin clapping his hands together in excitement. “Look at the two of you!” he proclaimed. “Your clothes match so perfectly!”

Sure enough, both of you adorned the same hues of dark reds and raven blacks. You felt his eyes rake over you, and you restrained to not do the same, lest you let more than your stare wander. “I always knew you two were right for each other,” your friend continued, grabbing his fourth flute, drinking away in glee. “I am overjoyed to see that you both see it.”

Something cold swirled in your husband’s stare, and you ran a finger along the empty glass, embarrassed to hear such genuinity. “Hyunjin, the second waltz is about to start.” He gestured his flute towards you. “I know you always dance with each other first.”

The duke’s eyes flickered to the host for a mere second before pinning on you again. “I have no desire for dancing tonight.”

You had trouble downing your drink. “How strange...” Seungmin noted, darting between the couple. “Your wife here said the same thing not an hour ago.”

“Did she now?”

The silence that followed was quite unbearable. Even your friend was unimpressed, offering Hyunjin a drink from the waiters nearby. “Oh, you both are such bores! Maybe marriage is not the solution after all.”

You dared not look at him then, fiddling with your black ribbon. “I need to get drunk!” the host declared, tutting his head at the tension created. “I will come again when you two stop being so bloody shy.”

Shy would not be the most accurate term, but Seungmin was too intoxicated to care. He strolled to compliment a gathering of ladies within your radius, which left you with the one man you feared to be alone with.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Hwang Hyunjin, in his changed, midnight glory, watching you with an indecipherable intensity. Creating the wildest butterflies ever felt inside your body.

You did not know where to start.

The man did not understand where to begin either, tongue at loss for words. There were too many words to spill, too many feelings left constricted.

He wished to say something, but his senses had failed him. So, much like you, he stayed silent, wondering if the two of you would ever break this barrier.

Even then, he could not help but linger closer, leaning against the lush walls of the room, right beside you. His presence was a blessing and a curse at the same time.

Tailcoat brushing against your skirts, he examined the ballroom along with you, itching to reach for your hand. He would never really, but in that moment, you were beyond tempting.

You see, he had no idea what you would wear tonight, and after the spat at Lansdowne, he yearned for change — hence the raven hair and darkened clothing, so unlike his usual pastel attire. He did not even think that you would attend the ball in fear of his presence, but seeing you before him, engulfed in his favourite colours…

He would have damned society and taken you in this very hall.

Daringly, he let himself wonder whether you felt the same — he heard your shocked murmur when he arrived, and the further shocked stare which made him ever so smug. If only you would let him do something about it.

If only you would let him ease this tension before it spiralled out of control.

His thoughts were rudely interrupted as Seungmin came stumbling back, alcohol, swishing back and forth in his new glass as he giggled at his guests. “Dear friends!” he broke out, hands raised, some of the drink accidentally slipping out. “Oh, forgive me, gentlemen!”

You heard Hyunjin sigh beside you as he held his own hands out to steady his friend. “Steady now, man!” he warned. The drunkard only chortled, foot stepping onto your dress.

“You should not have drank so much!” you scolded, raising your skirts. Glimpses of your stockings came into display, and Seungmin shrieked.

“Careful duchesh!” he slurred excitedly, leaning right into you and wiggling the glass as if it were a finger. Unfortunately, he had little control over how hard he shook his alcohol, and it all spilled over.

Right onto your white stockings.

Yelping, you saw the middle part stain in pinkish-red, murking the material with every drop landing. “Seungmin!” you yelled in agitation.

“Oh bollocksh!” he cursed, causing a few gasps around the hearing radius. “I apologishe, dear, so very very much—”

Hyunjin, witnessing the scene, stopped a nearby servant. “Please tend to your master, here,” he ordered, pointing towards Seungmin begging for your forgiveness. Nodding, the boy took the host away, the latter hiccuping as he asked for more wine. “And do not give him any more to drink!” the duke added.

Focusing on you, he rushed over, assessing the mess made. “Damn fool has spilled quite a bit.” Whirling his head to any exits, he spotted a dark hallway, remembering the route of the estate. “Come with me.”

You glanced at him, frantic. “Where to?”

He did not answer fully as he wrapped a hand around your waist, almost making you forget that you had wine spilled over you. “Seungmin has many spare rooms,” he explained, leading you out of the ballroom. Thankfully, the crowd was too occupied in preparing for the second waltz to care for the distressed couple.

Keeping your skirts raised, you managed to keep your gown safe from spillage as Hyunjin led you down the less crowded hallways, depictions of the Kim family painted on the walls. “Ah!” He got out, reaching to a familiar room as he opened it, ushering you inside. “This is where I usually reside whenever I stay at the estate.”

The room was basked in dark, velvety colours, perfect for the man next to you. Lush carpet underneath, the huge bed, nestled at the wall at your right had its curtains drawn, revealing glistening indigo sheets, matching the framing of the bedroom. Dressing tables, wardrobes and the like were furnished at each corner, your focus drifting back to the dweller.

There was barely any light, save for the oil lamp sparked to life by his match. Setting it to the side of the bed, it brought much more life to the room, previously engulfed in mystery.

Without the upheaval, the space was basked in silence. You realised the hand on your back was sorely missed, and Hyunjin, standing a few feet away, clenched and unclenched that very hand, yearning for his fingers upon you once more.

But the two of you kept playing that little game of keeping quiet. Sooner or later, one of you will have enough of this sickening ploy.

Groaning, you walked over to the edge of the bed, kicking your heels off as you saw your stockings, fully stained. “Damn it,” you muttered, promising Seungmin murder.

Another few minutes of your grumbling, and he had had enough.

“Maybe I can be of assistance.”

Perking up, you found Hyunjin, walking slowly to you, hands fumbling in his coat pockets. After a few seconds of rummaging, he brought out a package, tied with red string.

You raised a brow. “What is this?”

“Open it,” he merely said, taking a step closer as he held it before you.

Hesitantly accepting, you tugged on the end of the bow, unraveling the tie. You did not forget the stare which rested on you the entire time you opened the wrappings.

When the paper unfurled, you examined the contents.

Before you were a folded pair of black stockings.

A soft exhale escaped as you beheld the present, the midnight silk soft to the touch, already aware of its rich feel. You delved in further, and uncovered white ribbons at the top, for tightening their grip.

“How…” you trailed off, dumbfounded at the coincidence. “How did you…?”

“No, no, this was…” he locked his hands behind his back. “Something I was supposed to give you this morning.”

“Oh.” This morning. When you two had that particularly nasty fight. “I see.”

You glanced down at the present again. Hyunjin had proven, once again, how refined his taste was. “I have never seen such exceptional detail on stockings before.” Discarding the paper at your feet, you ran your thumb across the material. “I doubt this suits me at all.”

There was a pause at that.

You knew there was something he wanted to say. The way his jaw ticked, the boot lightly tapping on the floor — he was bursting to add a comment which may be a risk, considering the circumstance of your relations.

Allowing yourself to be the first to dare, you peered up at him. The curiosity, explicit in your eyes, had him clearing his throat.

His hesitancy faded. “Show me, then.”

Catching the ferocity in his stare, you swallowed, hand at your skirts. “If…if you wish.”

And that was all he needed to begin.

You watched as the man descended on his knees, lingering upon you until he looked down, revealing your white-clad legs the further you raised your gown. You stopped before the ends, holding onto your skirts and petticoats as if your life depended on it.

Hyunjin’s gaze did not waver as his hand raised forward, finding themselves upon the bow at the top of the stockings as the other gently held your ankle. Untying the ribbon, he hooked his fingers under the tight fabric, your skin brushing against his knuckles. Slowly, he pulled down the stocking, uncovering your skin before him under the dim lamp light. When it bunched up, his hand at your ankle stretched the ends of fabric, sliding the stocking right off.

Discarding it behind him, he repeated the unveiling on the other leg. He noticed your skin heating underneath his touch, and he dared not expose his growing delight.

Once the other half slid off, joining its partner, a hand raised in front of you. You stared at him in dazed confusion, and his fingers curled, save for the pointer directed at your present.

“The stockings, darling.”

The endearment had you falling short — his caresses on your shin brought you back to consciousness, your hand beyond your control as it handed the gift to him. Taking it, he put one of them beside him, bunching the other with his hands till he directed the entrance to your foot on his lap.

Slipping them on, he worked his way upon your heel; his hands were slow, fingers softer than the silk beginning to cover your leg. Every fleeting touch had small shockwaves coursing up your body, as if it was the first time he laid his hands on you. How were you so unaccustomed to his caresses still?

Maybe because he knew how to agonise you.

When reaching above your knee, he brought the ends of the stocking to your thigh. His fingers fell to the ribbon dangling from the underside and, with the utmost care, began to tie the two pieces together, forming a pretty red bow.

As he closed the pattern, he tightened the bow, securing the fabric — snuffing out any possibility for the fabric to fall.

He then continued on the other leg, gaze flickering from your legs to your face. He caught every laboured breath you released, every flutter of your eyes slipping you in and out of a daze. His fingers were slower still, as if he never wanted this to stop. The stockings were like a second skin, adding a lustre to your legs the more he covered you with it.

Sliding over your knee for the last time, he held onto the blood-coloured ribbons. Fingers skimming against silk-stained skin, he tied another perfect bow, tightening it at the ends.

All done.

His gaze lingered on the bows, the sliver of skin past your thighs. His hands too, refused to leave your legs.

It was then his eyes flicked upward — right into yours.

You caught every swirl of desire residing inside.

Every little detail etched on his face was stained with lustful anguish, suppressed hunger of things you dared not imagine. You held onto your skirts with more force, afraid you would lose strength in your hands.

Hyunjin’s hands, however, had no such troubles.

For they began to carry out his wishes — they slid upwards, past the stockings and upon your upper thighs, spreading them enough to slip himself between your legs. This alone had you near crumbling for him, but his eyes asked for more. Even with the dim light, you had never seen a man so beautiful in agony.

You wondered whether he was going to say anything. Silence was a giver of many answers, but the questions you held could only be answered by his lulling whispers. Despite protest, you willed your hands beside you, clutching the sheets, waiting for him to tear your soul in pieces.

Finally, the Duke of Hastings parted his mouth.

“One word, angel.”

He squeezed your thighs softly.

“One word, and I will never torment you with my presence again.”

A bated breath escaped you.

It was much too late for that. Hyunjin had already tormented you, had done so ever since your fateful realisation, and you knew he would do so for the rest of your life. It would hardly matter whether he was oceans apart or a hair’s breadth close — him, and everything he represented, was complete and utter affliction.

Such a shame that he was a torment you would sacrifice everything to be around every day. Such a horrible, horrible shame that Hwang Hyunjin was a presence you loved more than you could let on.

Hence was the reason you did not answer him with words. What you wished to say was much too vulnerable.

No, you answered him in actions — replied with your hands raising to clasp his face, leaning down to envelope your lips with his.

You were surprised to hear a pained moan leave his mouth, and you realised that was the sound of pure, heart-breaking relief. Instantly his hands travelled further as he kissed you back with twice the fervour, hands sliding to grip your waist. Pulling you to him, he erased any distance between you, delving deeper into your mouth. He shuddered at how he went so long without your tongue swirling along with his, like parting from a lost companion.

Fingers sliding to his neck, you welcomed his enthusiasm, his desperation which heightened with every searing touch, every soft bite of his teeth against your lips. He broke away, peppering open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, eliciting the sweetest whining from you.

“...missed you,” he murmured on your skin, sending chills down your body as he kissed the edges of your dress's neckline. “I...missed you so much.”

“Hyunjin—” you began, wanting to say that you yearned for him, but the words on your tongue faded when his fingers bunched up the skirts of your gown, hitching it higher until the midnight stockings were back in view — he did not stop there, pushing the fabric further till it bunched at your waist, along with the petticoats. His hurried hands pulled down your underthings, sliding them right off your legs, discarding them behind them.

Seeing your cunt glistening in the lamplight nearly broke him.

“I—God,” he breathed out, hands spreading your legs apart. An aching whine escaped you at the action, the cool night air caressing your inner thighs. “Angel, tell me...we do not have to do this.” He glanced up at you, and the madness residing in his eyes infected your soul.

Maybe madness was the only reason you damned the consequences.

“Don’t you dare stop.”

Hyunjin licked his lips before blessing you with his closure.

The first stripe across your slit set you on fire.

A soft groan through your mouth at the familiar sensation, the overbearing feeling of being ascended far away from this obscure bedroom. He had always worked wonders, but this time, the languor had faded, desire hardening his tongue against your folds. He pulled on your legs, sending his face further into your cunt, and you yelped at the ferocity of his actions.

There was no denying it — the man had grown frantic without you.

Swiping in the arousal coating along your slit, a satisfied hum escaped him as he travelled upwards, your seething more encouragement. He struck gold as he found your clit, circling his tongue along the bud, rendering you helpless as you moaned without shame. You cared little if the guests heard you beyond the door, your husband making it too hard to contain yourself.

Perhaps you would have survived his treatment if he did not leave one of his hands upon your leg, trailing up your thigh. He slipped in not one, but two fingers straight inside, and your voice raised an octave — the gradual rhythm of his digits had that overflowing feeling creeping over you all over again. Your grip on his half-ponytail tightened, pleading for him to give you mercy, but the man was relentless, never opting for a break in his devouring.

“Damn it, please—” you grated out, instinctively rolling your hips against his face. The edge of the bed seemed more like the edge of the world. “Wh-whatever you do—”

You did not finish as Hyunjin squeezed your thigh, and you knew then in your dazed mind — a certainty that he understood.

Within moments his pace quickened, fuelling the spark of nerves which swirled in your gut, threatening to overtake you. Teething your clit softly, then swirling his tongue along, you knew that if he carried on, he would break you on this bed. Something within you felt as if that was his was his very purpose.

Why the thought thrilled you, you would never know.

His rapid fingers and sensual tongue working harmoniously finally got through to you, as, with a whimpering cry, you came all over him, closing your eyes as spots of white stained your mind. You felt his ministrations slow, a small kiss gifted upon your sensitive clit before his lips pulled away. Other hand brushing across your leg, he soothed you from the high you experienced, whispers of his lilting voice perking you from your stupor.

“Hyunjin?” you quietly called, gazing at his lust-struck face. He did not look away as he brought the finger to his lips, sucking away at your residue.

You did not think you could ever get used to this image.

“Yes, angel?” he rasped out, straightening on his knees so his head nearly levelled with yours.

Catching the implications within your eyes, his own widened slightly.

“More?” he let himself wonder, and when you nodded much too desperately, he realised he had done it.

All he needed was for you to voice it.

“Oh, my sweet little darling,” he whispered, taking one of your gloved hands. Slowly, he slid off the long gloves, repeating the same for the other. “This time, I cannot let you off.

His hands then clasped yours. “This time...I need you to say what you want for me.”

The declaration would have had you closing your legs in embarrassment if your husband was not between them. Not even embarrassment for what he said but...the idea of you wanting to completely oblige it.

Look at you — a few months ago, you possessed not a single inclination of what he suggested; what he asked for, what he so direly wanted you to say. The woman before this one would have rather buried herself under the earth than admit such desire for a man.

The Duke of Hastings, though, brought her out from her underground retreat, and revealed to her all that she was capable of. He showed her what everyone was so afraid to even talk about, and made you addicted to what was forbidden.

A dire shame you wanted Hyunjin to keep you intoxicated for the rest of your life.

You faced him once and for all. Asked him for the one thing which you never thought imaginable.

“Show me...all of it.”

Your hands travelled to his shoulders, keeping him close.

“Show me everything.”

If there was a way to bottle this moment and hang it on the walls of his heart, Hyunjin would have jumped at the chance.

Had he defiled you, after so long? Had he slipped his dirty fantasies into your mind, tainted you with his infatuation?

The answers to his questions were found upon your lips. He collided his own against yours as he gathered you up in his arms, standing up and taking you with him.

Your legs would have given way if we’re not for him keeping his grip — a grip which wandered upwards, catching the little metal hooks of your dress. He thrust his tongue inside your mouth, and the harsh frenzy delighted you, welcoming all of it as you opened for him wider. A shuddered breath escaped you at the hooks being undone by his hands, one by one till you felt your gown loosen.

At the last hook, Hyunjin pulled the sleeves off your arms, and the dress fell to the floor, leaving you with your corset and petticoats. You were caught off guard when he swivelled you around, you feeling the tugs of lace being unravelled with each pull of his fingers. The kisses did not cease, being rewarded at the crook of your neck. Each caress of his lips sent shivers down your spine — more so when he eased off the corset from your body, tugging off your petticoats along with it.

All that was left was a thin, loose chemise, everything shown clearly beneath the white veil of its fabric. The man turned you to face him again, and his gaze turned molten at the sight that welcomed him. Taking your lips in his, he ripped off his own attire — the long coat, waistcoats, every piece from the waist up being discarded. He had to break away for a moment to take his shirt off, and you caught the sight of his lean figure, turned golden in the light.

You could not help reaching out, running your curious fingers against his skin, soft and warm beneath your touch. He dared not speak, fearing you would take away your hand, but that was the last thing you wanted to do.

Tonight, you did not want distance — and neither did he.

Kissing you again, he pulled the lace in front of your chemise, loosening the attire until, with wandering hands, he dropped the last layer you upheld. Slowly, never leaving your lips, he backed you against the bed, holding you steady as he laid you upon the sheets. You never let go of him, aching to take all of him in your mouth, taste his very soul till it was the only thing that remained on your tongue.

“Fuck—” a curse escaped him as he broke away, catching the swelling of your lips. His gaze trailed downwards, upon your breasts which perked at the sight. “You’re so—so beautiful, I—”

Trails of open-mouthed kisses attacked you after, falling upon your breasts where Hyunjin began swiping his tongue along the nipple. The foreign wave of pleasure had you ripping out the most atrocious moan, caring less if the whole manor were to hear.

While his tongue played with you, his fingers worked at his trousers, unbuckling his belt as he peeled off the clothing, tossing it to the ever growing pile. You craned your head forward, glancing at the bulge near bursting from his underwear. A quivering sigh escaped you, rendering louder by the quickening of his actions.

Getting rid of his underwear, his cock sprung free, and you were surprised you had not passed out from the mere sight, red and angry and too bloody big. You could not stop staring, hard to believe that a man could possess such...such substantial anatomy.

“Like what you see, angel?” Your husband mused, leaving his place upon your nipple. Flustered, you tried to look away, but it was no use, when the man caught your chin with his fingers. “I’m surprised you can be shy even now.”

That did not help with your situation, causing you to heat drastically beneath his touch. Chuckling, he dropped a little kiss upon your nose before resting his forehead against yours.

Grasping his cock, he levelled it against your leaking cunt, the head teasing your folds. Even the small action had you seething, the warm residue sending shockwaves across your body. You held onto his neck, fearing you would lose yourself if you dared not hold onto him.

His midnight eyes turned to yours, noses brushing. “This may hurt for a second, ____,” he confessed, voice barely a murmur. “But I promise I will make that second up to you.”

Nodding slightly, you watched only him as his gaze travelled downwards. Fear threatened to take over, but one look at your husband, and it all faded.

With a final prayer to the heavens, Hyunjin began his descent.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his cock slid into your cunt. A heightened whine bubbled up to your throat, and you let it free with each inch that entered, terrified that this man could break you with what he slipped inside you. Your walls tightened with its entrance, and the more you voiced out the more he tended, peppering sweet kisses upon your cheeks.

You did not know how long it was till he stopped, letting you adjust to him inside you. Your eyes threatened to bulge out of their sockets, yet your husband was a huge comfort, circling smooth strokes upon your hip with his thumb, holding your face as he held the universe in his hands.

Breathing deeply, he glanced at you — a nod was your response to his consoling gaze, knowing what he meant.

With that, the duke began to pull out.

He was slow, just as he was when he first entered you. He was gradual, languid, and the terror that haunted you was replaced with a new, different kind of high.

You had never felt something so pleasurable.

You revealed your surprise to Hyunjin, stare glistening at the foreign sensation — your entire body was up in the clouds, relishing the slow withdrawal and the skill he brought in the bedroom. You were so sure that he was terrified too, scared of ruining this, but all you could feel was pure, unadulterated delight.

When the head reached the beginning of your folds once again, you thought that this was it — there was no more to be done, and your contentment was short-lived.

However, your husband surprised you as he slid inside you once again.

This time, there was a slight increase of pace, and it kept getting better, your feelings heightening with each passing second as he dipped further into you. He was so unbelievably good, knowing just how to make you whimper — God, his gaze was enough to undo you, ablaze with all the hellfire from the underworld. The devil worked hard, but Hyunjin worked overtime, bottoming out into you once more.

From that point on, your bodies began to move in sync, you giddily moving your hips along with his, aching to have him inside the whole time. Your hands carded through his velvety locks, taking out the ribbons so his hair fell all about him, curtailing his face as he rocked back and forth upon you. By God, he was so exquisite, something straight out of an artist movement, despite the sweat beading down his forehead, despite the parted mouth, the slight panting.

“H-Hyunjin—” you began, interrupted by another sharp moan from his efforts. “Hyunjin, I think I’m close—”

This time, you were interrupted by his lips upon your neck, teething love bites everywhere upon your skin. He hummed against you at your warning, and thrusted his cock into you. The head reached a certain spot which had you seeing seventh heaven, seeing truth and peace and everything in between, because fuck, he knew where to strike.

You did not know how long it had been till you felt yourself dizzying, the feeling in your lower abdomen warning you of its leash snapping. Hyunjin, aware that you were close, only brought his fingers to your clit, prodding at the bud till tears stung your eyes.

“I...fuck, angel—!” He gasped between thrusts, pressing sloppy kisses upon your lips. “Look at you, all...all messed up from my cock!”

Heightened wailing was your response, broken murmurs being spewed from your lips. Hastily the man shook his head, revelling in your utter ruination.

“Ah—! Come on now!” he cooed in his husky rasp, holding onto your head. “Say it for me, darling.”

A part of you did not think you could manage, but you had to if it meant he would bring you relief. The duke may have been the love of your life, but he was still, undoubtedly, a smug bastard.

Despite that, you could not believe how easily you resorted to begging.

“Please, Hyunjin!” You pleaded in half-pants, the tears spilling when he delved into that one particular spot again. “Make me do—whatever the hell I do, damn it!”

Huffing out a small laugh, the man held onto you a little tighter, retaining his grin. “Oh, ____,” he said, and the next words slipped out in his haze of lust, not realising he had revealed something of terrible importance.

After planting another disheveled kiss, he murmured, “You are so lucky that I love you.”

You did not have time for this declaration to settle before your husband obliged you in the best possible way; his thrusting turned erratic, fast and uneven, and the increased pace of his fingers was too much, all at once.

You had no choice but to let out a cry as you spilled onto him — some escaped from your walls and stained the sheets, whimpering breaths keeping you alive. His ministrations slowed as well, fingers stopping at your clit.

Watching you undo yourself for him was certainly the last straw for him — for the first time he released into you, grunting at the impact. Parts of his orgasm, too, sullied the sheets, but that was the least of his concerns, as he held onto you for dear life, nearly shattering his entire self upon you.

Pulling out of you, he collapsed beside you on the bed, his deep breaths breaking the silence. You, too, panted for a while, gazing up at the dark ceiling.

You expected your first thought to be utter delight at your first time. You had finally done what no one in polite society ever told you about, and it was so wonderful that you doubt anyone would have shared in your fortune.

However, your mind was occupied with another matter entirely.

You are lucky that I love you.

You closed your eyes.

Hyunjin loved you. Hwang Hyunjin, your best friend and husband, loved you when you thought it impossible.

Something within you then wondered if it was too good to be true.

“____?”

Noticing your name, you turned, finding the very man staring at you — in a way which would have your theories proven true. You did not know about yourself, but seeing him before you, black locks disheveled, skin glistening from sweat, you could not deny that anyone would fall for him if they saw him now.

You tried to push your emotions past you, blinking back a bit of fatigue. “Yes?”

“Tell me what goes on in that mind of yours.” Turning over, he propped his arm, holding his head in his hand. “Are you alright?”

Perhaps you should have opted for a vague yes, but something in you did not want to beat around the bush anymore. You wished to tell him your truth.

“I was wondering about what you said,” you began, reflecting his position.

“I have said many things, darling,” the man drawled. “What do you specifically mean?”

“Well…” you tried to avoid his gaze, but you knew by now that evading Hyunjin was useless. “Before I...you know…”

“Know what?” He mused, which had you rolling your eyes.

“You know what I mean!” Sighing, you continued, constantly looking at his features. “Well, just before that, you said something to me...is it true?”

Silence fell on the room as your husband pondered at your question. His eyebrows raised, and you realised that he had figured it out.

“Ah, yes,” he said, nodding. “I know exactly what you speak of.”

You waited for his response, suddenly aware of how naked you were in this bedroom. Dread curled at your stomach, and you debated grabbing the sheets and sneaking out of the manor.

That is when Hyunjin gave you his answer. Gave it to you as he took your hand in both of his, pinning you with a stare he reserved only for you.

“They are the truest words I have spoken.”

He leaned into you, and your heart fluttered, much more dramatically now because of what he revealed.

A soul-saving smile adorned his lips. “Despite our circumstances, it was inevitable that I would fall, and I thank the heavens that I did. I love you, ____, even if you cannot return the feeling. I love you as the friend I never had.

“I love you because you are the most inspirational woman I have ever had the pleasure to meet.”

When he finished, you wondered whether you had the words to respond to a confession as heart-wrenching as the one your husband blessed you with. Tears pricked the corners of your vision, and you leaned into his hands which cupped your face.

Brushing his lips against yours, you willingly accepted, giving him all the affection you garnered within you for so long. The tears trailed down your cheeks, and you had to pull away, hands curling at his locks.

“I-I…” you sniffled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hyunjin, I-I love you so much—”

The man’s heart burst from his chest.

His rashness got the better of him, interrupting you with a searing kiss as he sunk his teeth into your bottom lip.

Never in his lust-hazed mind did he foresee you reciprocating his affection.

He was ready to spend eternity in a one-sided relationship. He was ready to stomach the melancholy you brought if you were to fall for another, or if you simply never loved at all, blankly living your life without any form of affection to give.

But…to have you fall for him.

What he said to you was wrong.

You were not lucky that he loved you.

He was lucky that you loved him.

So the Duke of Hastings, pulling the clean sheets upwards, showed you how lucky he was, deepening the kiss and you offering all of you again, moving your lips along with his.

And in this night, the two of you made another revelation — that perhaps reality was not the villain in the both of yours tales after all.

THE DAYS AFTER THE BALL WERE NOTHING BUT EUPHORIA.

You wondered whether it was all a dream, with the happiness that followed without any strings attached.

The passionate endeavours between the two of you did not stop at Seungmin’s manor — hands wandered in the carriage back home, and the moment you stepped at Lansdowne, Hyunjin backed you against the wall and ripped your dress right off, never wanting to stop ravishing you. You did not stop him, did not want to stop him, when you waited so long for him to engulf you without any barriers. By the time you both stopped in the shy hours of dawn, you had been drained of all physical strength, but filled with mental joy.

You fell in love with Hwang Hyunjin, and had the fortune of this love reciprocated.

Sometimes, you wondered if it was all a dream — a twisted, subliminal illusion, tricking you into believing that marital life is what every writer writes of in the end, the solution filled with flowers and sweet kisses. You never thought, even in your wildest dreams, that you could achieve such bliss with another.

Then, you would wake up with your husband’s arms around you, and finally understand. Finally comprehend what it meant, to never stray from a soul connected with yours.

The weeks after also brought the finishing of your novel, your childhood dream all polished in your hands as you took it to the most famous publishers in town. You had fears of the reactions, as what you wrote during certain parts of the novel was borderline scandalous, but the men at the publishing house enjoyed the first few chapters you showed them, and asked for more on the next visit.

You were overjoyed by their reaction, but then doubt entered your mind at once — what if they were only agreeable to your writing because of your position?

The thought soured your happiness. You did not want to be a writer because of your position in society, but because of your skill. There may have been thousands of other women with talents surpassing yours, but would never be able to achieve even the interest of a publisher.

Hyunjin was the first to know of your news, and the worries which accompanied it. He listened to you on your second, third visits, scoffing at your disbelief of your turn of events. It was ridiculous in his mind how ardently you doubted yourself, waving off the publishers’ interests in your novel as sheer luck, or your station as the Duchess of Hastings. He assured you many a time, that your flair in creating stories surpassed no man or woman living in London.

He knew those publishers well — well enough to know that they had never released a novel written by a woman, no matter how influential she may have been. Knowing you had managed to enter consideration for publishing was a feat in itself. The duke had absolutely no doubt that he would see your works in the hands of every person who knew how to read.

What you did not expect, however, was the request from the publishers to have your novel anonymously published. You demanded a reason, and they provided a whole list — women writing was only considered a secondary activity, and if word were to reach the city of a Duchess writing books instead of tending to her family, then it would cause an outrage. You could not believe your ears, despite a small part of you expecting this setback.

You wanted your name on the book.

Confiding in your husband once more, you told him of the condition, angrily pacing back and forth in your home. “It is simply...awful!” you spat, locking your hands behind your back, turning the room once more. Hyunjin watched you with a concerned look passing over his features as he looked up from his book. “Why should I hide my identity? I am proud of what I wrote, damn it!”

The man let out a sigh. “I think you should keep the name anonymous.”

That had you pausing. “I beg your pardon?” you demanded, thundering over to him. “Are you saying I conform to their conditions?”

“I am not suggesting it because of their reasoning. I know they are still too ashamed to try publishing a woman’s creation.”

Closing his book, he set it to the side table. “My love, there is nothing that brings me more joy than seeing you accomplish your dreams. I want more than anything to boast of your mind, and the writings it invents. However,” he continued, “I fear when the public sees your name printed on the novel, a controversial one at that, and see it that they attack you.”

“But that does not matter to me,” you responded, hands on your hips. “In fact, I welcome their criticism! Let me see what poppycock they want to say of my hard work.”

Hyunjin clamped his lips together, trying to hide a smile. “I am happy you do not care for such people, but it would damage your future writings. It would damage your future.”

When you frowned at him, he held out his hands. You closed the distance, settling upon his lap, sliding your arms around his shoulders, while he did the same around your waist. “Tell me, angel, do you wish to write after this?”

“Of course.”

“Well, see it like this,” he began. “Let us say you publish the novel anonymously. It would be in instant circulation, and everyone would read it, no matter who they are. Why? Because your identity is hidden. There would be no bias against you.”

“So?” you asked, and Hyunjin gave you a look. “Okay, okay, continue!”

“As I was saying,” he carried on, “This would not only help you gain an initial audience, but, if you do wish to reveal yourself after that, then it would be perfect. You would have not only shown the public that a woman had written such a brilliant novel, but anyone who would have had previous biases would either conform to reading your writing, or be furious that they had been tricked into reading a woman’s novel.” He then added, smirking, “Which, in my opinion, would be a very amusing situation to witness.”

You thought over what he said, mind in slight conflict. “In the end, though, it is your choice,” he reassured you. “Whatever you do, you have my undeterred support.”

The little addition had you smiling. “You make valid points,” you admitted, which had the man releasing a chuckle.

“You say that as if I have no intelligence,” he jeered, pulling you closer. “You will be thanking me when all of this goes as I predicted.”

“Don’t push it,” you countered. “We both know you have been proved wrong many times.”

“Hmmm…” he trailed off, leaning in, brushing his lips upon your skin. “At least I know I am right about one thing.”

“Oh?” Your head began to swim as he trailed a few lingering kisses up your neck. “And...and what would that be?”

He did not answer you — only offered an alluring smile before pressing his lips against yours. A soft hum left you as he moved his mouth against yours, slow and languid, teasing his tongue against the seams.

You would have offered yourself right then and there if he had not broken away, drumming his fingers against your waist. The smile darkened as he gave you his reply.

“You cannot resist me, angel.”

That, no matter how much it worked against your favour, was an undoubted fact.

After this though, you made your decision to keep anonymous, letting the publishers know of your change of heart. You knew that what Hyunjin said made sense, and, if your novel does receive recognition, then revealing yourself would create a huge statement in London society, positive or not. With this in mind, brought the final edited drafts of your work, and received information of the commissions and percentages taken by the publishing house.

Because the release of your novel was to take some time, you had some freedom with your everyday activities, which were once taken up by the constant editing. The duke, luckily, had begun to employ much more able men in his authority, and so his work was decreased significantly, to the point where he had days to spend with you alone.

During that waiting period, he suggested the two of you retreat to Hemingford, where you both spent your honeymoon. Your smile never left as you jumped at the idea, the man in turn making arrangements for the earliest carriage out of the city.

Within two days, you were welcomed by the little manor, nestled in the gifts of nature. You found yourself warming to the whole place once more, memories of the past months returning in a flash. Images of the many groves of trees, small network of rivers and a special presence, soothed you in every part you walked through. You nearly forgot how dear Hemingford was to you in the chaos of city life, engulfing its regal, almost mystical atmosphere. A part of you hoped that the book would take forever to be published, so you could never leave the natural retreat Hyunjin’s ancestors had created.

The man himself was glad he opted to take you to the manor — he saw your nerves slowly taking over in London, and knew that the more you stayed in Lansdowne, the more the wait was going to eat you alive. Aware of your attachment towards this place, he made it his personal mission to bring you here, and try to provide you with a little peace. When he caught that certain smile of yours when your eyes fell on the manor and the gardens around it, he felt half his worries melting away in the spring air.

He hated seeing you so unnerved.

After a few days resting in paradise, the situation was changed for the better. You, breathing in the very earth beneath your feet, observing the trees curved over you like a concerned parent, thought that you could stay here forever. Receiving a letter from the publishers’ of the near completion of copies made only brightened your spirits, and you sighed out into nature.

“Is something the matter?”

Perking up, you saw Hyunjin, who walked over from behind you.

“Ah...not much,” you said, watching him settle beside you on the bench you sat upon, folding one dark-clad leg over the other. In his hands possessed a book of deep-shaded red, which he held with great care. “Thinking about the letter today.”

“I see.” His eyes wandered down to his fingers. “Actually, I do have something for you, relating to the subject.”

“Oh?” You followed his trail. “Does this book have something to do with it?”

“However did you figure that out?” He drawled, but then he faced you properly, unfolding his leg. “Here.”

You took the possession, eyes on him. “Whose book is it?”

A knowing smile escaped his lips. “Look at the front, angel.”

Curious, you obliged, checking the title.

You completely stilled.

Written on the front was the name of your novel.

“Oh my God,” you got out, holding it with both hands, opening it to the pages. There it all was, inscripted upon the hundreds of pieces of paper.

Your writing.

Your sleepless nights, your labour, your every ounce of strength, tied together by paper and leather and string.

Rushing, you opened to a random section of the novel, smile widening at the typewriter’s neat, cleaner version of your manic scribbles. The dialogue, the description of each environment — it was there before you, but this time it was not in your head, whirling indefinitely without a place to explain itself.

It was all on paper — in your very hands.

“H-Hyunjin,” you stammered out, not realising your heart was becoming a little too heavy. “Oh my God—where did you get this? Have they—they have begun to sell copies already?”

“Oh Lord,” your husband murmured, hands on your shoulders. “No, no, my love, this was of my own doing.”

When he caught the confused expression upon your aghast face, he explained further. “Before we left for London, I paid a visit to the publishers’, who had started typing up copies of your book. I requested the first copy made be given to me.”

His thumbs began to stroke soothing circles onto your skin. “I know you would have wanted to hold it in your hands before anyone else.”

Heavens above. He truly knew you so well.

You focused back on the book, closing it as you ran your fingers over the leather cover. “I…”

“No need,” he said, giving you an amused grin. “I already know I am the best husband one could ask for.”

He expected his banter to be returned, but you responded to him with a heart-shattering smile.

Holding out the book, you propped it in his hands. “I want you to have it, Hyunjin.”

This time, it was his turn to be confused. “Am I missing the joke here?”

You held his gaze, albeit with much difficulty. “I promised you something once, quite a long time ago. All my firsts are yours.”

Your hand reached out, brushing against his. “This is my first novel. My most prized possession.” A pause, before holding that state with all your might. “I would want nothing more than for you to keep it.”

The duke used his every ounce of strength not to cry upon the bench. “Well then…” he began, taking the book from you. He turned to the front page, which was blank, save for the title name again, and the written anonymously typed onto its surface. “Well, ____, you must sign it for me!”

A laugh escaped you at that. “An autograph?” You jested, spluttering further when the man brought out his fountain pen, opening the cap. “I suppose with this enthusiasm, I shall throw in a little message.”

Hyunjin slapped a hand to his chest, brows raising in mock surprise. “By God, you spoil me!”

“Give it here!” You retorted, taking the pen and book once more as you found the landing page.

You pondered for a few minutes on what to write, earning a few hurry ups! and the occasional she does not love me after all, the latter greatly exaggerated. Berating him, you finally thought of the words, arriving straight from the heart.

Finishing off, you gave the novel back. “Let us see what faux sweetening you have made for me,” he chortled, eyes lowering to the text.

His grin began to fade as he read the message in his mind.

TO THE MAN WHO WAS MY FIRST FRIEND, MY FIRST KISS, AND NOW MY FIRST LOVE.

HERE’S TO MANY MORE FIRSTS WITH YOU. I KNOW THEY WILL ALL LAST.

I LOVE YOU.

Hyunjin knew that the sting in his eyes was not the spring breeze.

Slowly, he looked up, catching you staring at him with a smile—loving smile upon your face. A shuddered breath left his lips, unable to form the words.

“Oh no,” you began, jesting despite tears welling up in your own eyes. “It seems the duke believes in my faux sweetening after all.”

A coughed laugh left him at that, trying to clamp his lips together from smiling, but his emotions refused him to suppress himself. His eyes crescented, adding to his near teary grin. Propping the book to the side, he offered his familiar stare, laced with every fibre of affection.

“Come here.”

You jumped at the command, leaning closer as he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you to him. He moulded his lips against yours, and you readily accepted him, offering yourself up entirely for him — as if you were not completely his by your own choice.

The slight madness laced upon his mouth had you whining onto him, taking in the entirety of his affection as you opened up to him. Your request was teased upon with his tongue, sliding along your bottom lip, but the man pulled away, panted breaths fanning your mouth.

He pressed his forehead against yours, fingers holding onto your face as if letting go would cause you to stray. “I…” he let out a deep, trembling breath. “I love you, ____. So much.”

Your heart would never tire of the declaration. “I love you too, Hyunjin.”

And as he claimed your lips once more, you wondered whether you had finally achieved what every work of literature praised in the most elevated of languages.

Still, at least you knew this — that once there was a duke who you promised all your firsts to, and had somehow found his way into your heart.

There was once a woman, who refused to believe in love for herself, only for this duke to convince her otherwise, by falling for her completely.

Love stories may be a mere creation of the mind, but at least, at the very least, you knew.

Your love story was real. The first which was not mere fantasy, but real and true and tangible.

You had a feeling that this first, out of all the others you shared with the Duke of Hastings, was going to last.

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