#excuse me sir that's my emotional support character study

[madewithxrage]

like or credit if using. 🖤

#chloe cherry #faye #euphoria #aesthetic #character study #】♛≠↭↭↭excuse me sir thats my emotional support fictional character #】♛≠↭↭↭ never be like queue #my edits #not my gifs #madewithxrage #lady rage

[thesiriusmoon]

The interview

Summary: Bonnie Mcbride is a young girl with her heart set on becoming an FBI agent, and has successfully secured an interview with the head of the BAU for an assistants job.

Main characters: Bonnie McBride (OC), Aaron Hotchner.

Side characters: Spencer Reid, Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Jason Gideon, Penelope Garcia

Other: platonic, just for fun writing

Word count: 2k

The first of many things to come for this idea

——————————

Well the building was huge first and foremost. Her pencil skirt tight over her opaque tights, white blouse tucked neatly, and her blazer freshly ironed and still warm. Her emotional support book back over one arm.

For a year now, she was studying. Criminal justice. It was a piece of cake really. Every single word she read tattooed itself under her eyelids, there wasn’t a single thing she could forget. Which is how she’s ended up so far ahead so young. She couldn’t explain it. She skipped grades and was in college before she even knew it. All with one thing on her mind. Justice. Just as the course said. Not for any terrible reason however. She wanted to give her mother a life. One she was never able to grab for herself.

It was Bonnies deep secret. Her mother was a prostitute. Amongst other jobs here and there. She wanted to see her mother in a nice house rather than the shabby one they lived in right now. And with the money made from this assistant job she could really help!

So in she stepped and was blinded by how white everything was. So clean it was intimidating. She placed her bag through the metal detectors and took off her earrings to pass the test. Nodding politely towards the security guard who towered over her small body, and took her bag to the lift and pressed the number six button, and held her breath.

“Hey, are you lost?” A pretty young woman with straight blonde hair stopped with a concerned smile.

Bonnie shook her head. “No. Well- kind of. I’m looking for Agent Hotchner, I have an interview for an assistant job.” The woman laughed.

“Oh right! Sorry, my mistake. If you would like to follow me I’ll take you.” And Bonnie gladly did that, while admiring the framed pictures of men and women in uniform all over the walls.

“What’s your name? Excuse me for being so rude there.”

“Bonnie.” She smiled with rosy lips, already liking this woman.

“Nice to meet you Bonnie. My names Jennifer but everyone calls me JJ.”

“Jennifer… that’s really nice.”

“Why thank you!” Jennifer giggled and led Bonnie through the glass doors for the BAU, and she was met with many people older than herself working at desks.

“Agent Hotchners office is that one at the top, just knock and he’ll answer.” With that, Jennifer gave Bonnie a supportive thumbs up before heading back out the way they came in.

Before Bonnie could thank her, being too overwhelmed with the authority surrounding her. Every person in here must have a gun on them, and she found herself standing and wondering if she made one wrong footstep would they draw them?

Eventually she knocked on the door, and a “come in!” Was heard.

This was it!

“Hello, I’m Bonnie, I’m here for your assistant interview?”

“Assistant interview? I didn’t know I had one.” Bonnie froze awkwardly, stroking the strap of her book bag.

“Oh… uhm, I have the paperwork here if you’d like to take a look sir.” She took the neat unfolded paper from her bag and approached the desk while this man stared at her confused, but took the paper.

“Oh… right well, have a seat then. Sorry for the confusion.” She tried to laugh it off but all the confidence she had seemed to drain out of her and was replaced with blush. “If you just give me one minute.” And he excused himself out of his office, leaving her to fidget with her bag strap once more.

He really did come back in a minute, and she jumped not hearing him come back in.

“So… I won’t lie to you I had no idea there was an assistant interview, it was my other coworker who decided to set it up, but I’m more than happy to follow through with this if that’s still what you want.”

Bonnie nodded. “I’d like that sir.”

“So…” he began to read her CV. “Bonnie McBride? Scottish?”

“Yes sir.” Her accent sounded thicker now that she were on the spot.

“Only eighteen?”

“Yes sir. October thirty.”

“And you’ve already been enrolled in criminal justice?”

“Yes sir. Started when I was sixteen in Georgetown. One more year to go if I keep doing what I’m doing.”

“And what are your plans for after?”

She felt a little embarrassed talking to the unit chief who was clearly very successful in what he did. “I wish to become an FBI agent.” To which she thought he almost smiled.

“Well you’re heading in the right direction that’s for sure… and why would you want to be an assistant here?”

“Because… I really appreciate the work that yourself and your team do. I would like to be able to give something back whether that be filing things so you won’t have to stress or always being on hand if someone needs something like a drink or-“

“Not because you’re a spy?”

Bonnies eyes widened comically and her jaw dropped. Agent Hotchner was so serious she thought he was going to draw his weapon until he laughed.

“I’m just kidding. You seem like a lovely girl but I’m worried that what you may see in here will affect you negatively.”

“Don’t worry about that sir! I wish to work in law enforcement and will have to get used to it sooner or later won’t I?”

“I understand… but what about your studies? We can be away for days, weeks, or even months at a time.”

“There’s the option of online courses which I’m set to apply for if… if I’m successful in this interview.”

“Well… convince me then. How will you assist us.”

Us. He said. Not just him.

“I’d get to know everyone. What they and what they dislike. I’m quick on my feet and make terrific coffee, best ever if I do say so myself. I can read a room like a book and I love organising and cleaning, one of my hobbies actually! I’m great with computers and my time management, I’m never late for anything only early. And if need be I can also stay out of the way, do my work until my phone pings for me to set off!”

Agent Hotchner listened intently before his eyes averted towards the blinds in his office.

“Come up here, and tell me what you see.”

Nervously, she followed and peeked through the window.

“The other agents?”

“Yes but, you said you could read a room. Prove it to me.”

She swallowed hard, and her attention landed on a skinny boy who was spinning on his chair.

“That man there, with the curly hair spinning on his chair, that must be a way to relax or concentrate as the motion of the air and dizziness of the head takes away anything else surrounding. His hand at clasped bear his face, he’s thinking. Oh- now he’s writing, very quickly at that. He’s onto something.”

Agent Hotchner nodded.

“And that man there.” Now she was looking at the broad shouldered man with a cup of something in his hand. “The way here hold himself, the mug in one hand the other on his hip. He’s confident. He doesn’t need two hand to steady whatever’s in his cup because he moves so swiftly. The hand on the hip can also be defensive. He’s brave and looking for danger, maybe even trying to be intimidating as if to say ‘don’t even think about it.’ And he obviously works out! His shoulders are very big…” she began to lose track.

Right up until she saw Jennifer.

“And there’s Jennifer! I met her after the lift up. She’s very kind and maybe even worries a lot about others, seeing as she had approached me to ask if I was lost. She cares a lot about others and is looking over peoples shoulders to make sure they’re working. Very passionate about her job and work, because she knows that what they do affects others.”

An older man exited one of the offices.

“That man… walks fast, he has places to go and things to do. Hardly takes a break. Maybe a little stressed but at the end of the day takes a lot of pride in his work because of how hard he works to help people. He looks authoritative, been here a while. Knows the place inside and out he doesn’t have to look where he’s going…”

“That’s Jason Gideon. Former unit chief. A legacy left behind but he’s still going.”

Bonnie felt very proud of herself.

“Oh! And what about her.” The agent pointed to a plump girl with crazy blonde hair and red high heeled earrings dangling over her shoulders, matching the shoes on her feet.

“Hm…” she thought hard.

“Unique. She’s herself at all times. She only cares about what she thinks of herself and-“ she watched the woman lean a hand on top of the broad shouldered man’s desk. “Fancies that man?” Agent Hotchner snorted, and physically wiped the smirk off his face.

“Yes it does seem that way doesn’t it? But I can assure you they’re just the best of friends.”

Then yet another woman who Bonnie swore would be the last she profiled was very attractive. Black hair curled not very long, but she couldn’t get anything for this woman. Nothing. “I have no idea about that woman.”

“That’s Emily. She’s sealed like a safe.”

“Secretive? Defensive?”

“Something like that yes.” The Agent sighed. “Well, now for the next test. How good is your coffee really?”

“Very sir.” She smiled, and he led the way out of the door and into the office again.

Each of the peoples heads she had talked about turned to their direction and she pretended that she didn’t notice how they all started whispering.

She only focused on the mug in front of her.

“Do you like it light, normal, or strong?”

“Strong.” She scooped three teaspoons into the mug.

“Sugar?”

“No thanks.”

She added a little hot water and mixed it was all dissolved.

“Milk?”

“No thanks.”

“You look like an americano guy.”

“Oh really? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh sorry sir! I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

“No it’s fine. I’d like to know why though.”

Bonnie wished she hadn’t spoke at all.

“Well… you keep a straight face. Being the boss you have to remain on guard and professional. No time for fun and games when lives are at stake. And maybe the strong coffee keeps you up for the day and the lack of sugar and milk would mean that you just want to taste the coffee, rather than something else. Because the thought of drinking just coffee acts as a placebo to heighten your awareness. Milk and sugar would falter that.”

“I’m actually just lactose intolerant. But you’re right about the sugar. I like the bitter taste because it reminds me I’m drinking coffee which includes caffeine. The sugar distracts me.” The agent was smiling.

Bonnie laughed and handed the man the cup she had prepared after stirring more water in to almost the top, anxiously waiting his reaction.

He brought it to his rough lips and hummed. “That is quite good actually… Bonnie, I’ve made up my mind.”

Everything had went very well so far… she crossed his fingers.

Instead of speaking, she led her to the group of desks where the agents had disbanded back to their work after their boss began approaching. Except from the man called Jason Gideon.

“Everyone, I’d like you to welcome Bonnie to our team. She’s our new assistant.”

“Well done Bonnie!” Jennifer grinned.

“Welcome to the team kid.” Said the broad man’s who’s desk read ‘Derek Morgan.’

Then the spinning man, ‘Spencer Reid.’ “Good job!”

“Hope you’ll enjoy it here!” The attractive woman chuckled.

“It’s great! Never a boring day!” The woman with the crazy earrings clapped her hands.

“I knew you’d love an assistant Aaron.” Jason laughed.

#criminal minds #Aaron hotchner #Jason Gideon #Derek morgan #Spencer Reid #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #jemily #penemily #moreid #hotchgan #JJ and will #criminal minds fan fiction #cm fandom #cm fanfic #own character #thesiriusmoon bonnie cm #thesiriusmoon writes cm

[jacktorjoseph]

Set-Up: 🔅In the land of sunny El Paso, It is a beautiful 100 degree weather day and the studio is DEFINITELY feeling it. Fans are running on max, all the ice in the water coolers have melted, and no matter how many times the producer sticks his head into his mini fridge, there’s no sign of relief anywhere. I guess it’s the price you pay being the new show on the block! Repairs and renovations must be reserved only for the cash cows of the company, hence why being forced to shoot in a studio lot last updated in the 30’s was no surprise at all. No need to install A/C if the building can’t support it structurally, the finance department would say! Luckily for you though, being the lead of a children’s television program had some perks. One of the crew members was able to find a lone, oscillating fan to sit in front of your folding chair, but it didn’t do much except blow more hot air around. The production team promised official actor chairs with their names embroidered on the back once the Sunny Time Crew Show took off, but for now, you had to settle for the static clinging variation found at small events and birthday parties. You are reading through the latest episode’s script, noticing a few changes made last minute by the writing staff that made your brow lift. There were characters you’ve never briefed on before. The Sun and the Moon? How’d that work? Sure, they were early in the production process and have only aired the pilot so far, but you’d think you would’ve at least met the person by now. You hear a number of hurried footsteps echo off the vinyl flooring.🔆

*My heels clack loudly against floor as I scour the premises for any sign of life or people. I had already met so many dead ends that there was a part of me that refused to believe this studio is actually shooting anything at all. It didn’t help when the people I did run across didn’t even glance in my direction as they scurried off. Finally reaching an entrance much larger than any of the small offices I rushed by, I took it as a sign that I might be on track. A panicked look is plastered all over my features as I scan the area for anything that hints I’m going in the right direction.*

Oh god, I’m absolutely going to be late at this rate! I knew I should’ve came three hours early instead of two! Where in the world-

*That’s when I spot you flipping through your script in the distance. No one else was around and you didn’t seem like you were rushing to get anywhere, so maybe you’d help!*

OH! Excuse me! Sir!

*I lift an arm up, securing the black binder more tightly against my chest as I lightly jog over to you. My hand instinctively grabs my knee for support once I reach you. Taking a deep breath, I straighten myself up and tuck a long strand of dark brown hair behind my ear. My bangs cling to my forehead for dear life. With how old the building is, people would assume that I’m a ghost or someone who just walked off a princess set with how out of style my puffed sleeve dress is. The bow clipped behind my head becomes more crooked and a relieved smile graces my face*

Oh thank goodness you’re here! You’d not believe the day I was having! I swear I thought I had the plague or something with how much I got snubbed today.

*I let out a breathy laugh, my free hand emphasizing my emotions. I bring my arm back to meet the other along my binder and squeeze it tighter against my chest.*

I’m sorry for interrupting what you’re doing, but my agent set up a vocal audition for me for the…Sunny Time Crew Show? I think that’s what it’s called?

*My brows furrow in thought before I wave a hand dismissively.*

I don’t even know! My agent says it’s the beauty of last minute auditions, but not being able to study up makes me feel more anxious than anything! Anyways, I was hoping you’d know where they’d be at. I’m not really used to being on a film lot since musical theatre productions is more of my thing, but I didn’t think that they were THIS big. Memorizing directions is not my specialty as you can tell.

(OOC-Hi! I’m sorry this is so long, I just wanted to set up the scene! I love how you portray Joesph and I hope I can RP with you!)

-🧜🏻‍♀️

OOC// okay, to start this off, I legit was trying to think of shit all day for this, but got busy with work (ask my s/o they offered help when I saw the absolute NOVEL you had written /positive ) however, it's time for my brain to go back to 2012-2014 (my peak roleplay years)

Joseph looked over at you, his white tank-top both slightly see-through and stained from his own sweat, soon fanning himself with his script.

well, you came to...I guess the right place. Though, it feels more like hell right now. No damn clue why the idiots higher up decided the new show would get the worst building in the area.

He stands up and stretches a bit, if you looked over you'd notice his jeans sitting on his chair, the man in a pair of fitted shorts instead.

If I knew it'd be this hot I wouldn't have even bothered to come nicely dressed.

He offers his free hand to you, it obviously very sweaty.

I'm Joseph, I guess I'll be the main part in this children's show. But, I'll warn ya, some of these actors? Serían mejores para los espectáculos nocturnos, if you get my drift. (translation: they'd be better for the late night shows,)

He gives a very half-caring smile.

What position are you here for? So far, I know about....3, 2? other actors, and none of which have given anyone any hospitality other than the manager and director.

#sunny day jack #somethings wrong with sunny day jack #sdj joseph #sunnydayjack #swwsdj #joseph cullman #sdj jacktor #jacktor #joseph haberdae #roleplay account #ooc

[its-a-gemfact]

Drawing steven is therapeutic

#su #steven universe #suf #steven universe future #excuse me sir that's my emotional support character study #still trying to nail down an art style but oh well #my art

[chanluster]

the duke and i | m ; f

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

back to masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____, listen to me.”

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

You understood where she was going with this conversation.

Your father is dead now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A sad smile exposed itself on your face.

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

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

You dearly wished you could write such flawless books yourself.

A slight frown enveloped your lips.

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

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

And snatched it right out of your hands.

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

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

The roll of your eyes was inevitable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The scoff that escaped his lips dared you to try. 

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

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

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

“And how will you do that, blondie?”

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

First. Always him as your first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grinned. “God help her, then.”

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

Your stare remained on his face. “Yes?”

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

Not quite understanding, you drawed, “Yes?”

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

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

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

“I think you should marry me, angel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I cannot promise you that.”

His next words sent the strangest sensation down your spine. 

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

The ballroom erupted into applause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You and him against the world.

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

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

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

Another first, then. 

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

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

“Yes, blondie.”

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

“A thousand times yes.”

THE WEDDING HAPPENED QUITE IMMEDIATELY AFTER THAT NIGHT.

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

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

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

In truth, the ceremony was a blur.

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

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

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

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

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You only offered him a scoff in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His request had you face burning. “Never.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, angel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me what your book is about.”

“I am not telling you anything!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As you say.”

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

“Of course.”

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

“I am perfectly adequate, darling.”

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

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

“____?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The duke had never apologised for anything.

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

Hearing the plea for forgiveness had certainly changed that perception. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Here.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something was amiss. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Does he enjoy your writing?

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

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

He then let out a scoff.

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

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

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

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

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

Your answer made him stop. Whirl to your direction.

“Ah, yes!”

His features twisted into anger.

“Such poppycock!”

You blinked back. “I-pardon?”

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

“Hyunjin, what do you mean?”

The man nearly ripped his hair out. 

“____, you have written a bloody masterpiece!”

Your entire body stilled.

“I...I did what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

An incredulous look was your reply. “Passion?”

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

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

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

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

Lust. 

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

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

“What do you mean...lust?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Now where is the fun in that?”

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

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

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

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

You gulped. “K-kisses?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence descended upon the two of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or even your destroyer. Your fated undoing.

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

“Hyunjin?”

A blink.

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

An innocent reality all for him to defile.

“Yes, angel?”

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

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

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

“How about...how about I assist you?”

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

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

“That is true, yes.”

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

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

His voice right behind gave you a fright.

“Pure, raw lust.”

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

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

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

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

“If, of course, you would let me.”

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

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

“What will you do to me, Hyunjin?”

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

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

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

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

“But show you what real passion tastes like.”

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

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

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

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

“Show me, Hyunjin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hyunjin’s kisses were quite indescribable. 

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

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

He found you shivering beneath his grasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a slight inconvenience that Hyunjin shook his head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hoped with all your heart that Hyunjin would know.

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

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

His kisses did not falter, even when you gasped out his name, a soft cry which only grew when his teeth grazed at your skin. Pain bloomed at the touch, but the feeling did not last long, replacing it with his tongue lapping up the mark. The dull ache remained, yet forgotten as he created a pattern of these stinging sensations.

“____,” he whispered upon your skin, a hypnotic chant which only had you whining in response. His mouth skimmed right up to your ear in frantic. “I...I must show you even more.”

You stilled completely. “E-even more?”

Hyunjin’s eyes did not leave yours as his hands travelled down, holding onto your sides. Slowly, he tugged you forward, your body merely following as he laid you down into the bed. Your heart hammered as he towered over you, the loose shirt revealing a glimpse of his chest, and his locks, drooping down to your face.

Your hands held onto the sheets. The gesture had him melting, so endeared by your little scares. What would you know of what will follow?

His idle fingers began to roam. With every shuddering breath they journeyed further below, until they found the hem of your nightgown. He held onto the fabric, slowly sliding it upwards. 

You hissed slightly at the cold that welcomed your bare legs, but it was overshadowed by his warm caresses, every touch causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Or something of the sort. That was what it felt like to you, anyway, with how out of place the reaction was. 

You asked him as his fingers paused, right on the edges of your upper thighs. Confusion, mixed with an overwhelming sensation, washed over you with every phantom touch. “What are you—” you paused as his hand tugged your legs open, ever so slightly. “What are you to do with your fingers?”

His answering gaze had you praying for the Lord. “How about I show you instead?” The contact lingered. “I promise it will feel wonderful.”

There was no other answer you could offer him. A hasty nod could only suffice as, with that signal, the duke braced himself for what he had been dreaming to do.

Nothing prepared you for the feeling of his fingers past your thighs. 

Your breathing hitched as they teased against your entrance, running slowly along your slit. He collected the arousal which pooled at the apex, mouth agape from your reaction. 

How you were drenched for him. 

The very sight, and the prolonging idea, had the man exhaling sharply. Even now, he could see in your gaze — you were unaware of your own responses, your body’s hurried joy as it begged for his fingers to delve in further. 

Tonight, he would show you a glimpse of his fantasies. 

His one finger slipped inside you, and you felt the world turn.

Slowly, so painfully slow it slid between your folds, completely halting your breath as you gaped at him. He held your stare with a dark intensity — no doubt there was hesitation on his part, scared his control would shatter, terrified he would submit to your desire and break you under his hold. Already the thought was so appealing. 

Still, he kept his fantasies at bay, holding your face like a fragile artifact as he delved deeper. A soft moan escaped your lips, and he cocked his head, realising it was a whine you tried to contain. 

“Angel, please,” he murmured, and when he paused on his journey you looked at him in desperation. “Don’t be shy with me.”

And then, grip on your side tightening, he began to pull his finger out.

This time, it was impossible to restrain. 

A heightened gasp shuddered out of you, gripping onto his shirt. How could an action so simple be so electrifying? The idea could not make any sense, but it did not need to when it brought such pleasure. You pulled on the fabric harder, elevating Hyunjin’s joy at seeing you so bothered.

“Yes, just like this,” he cooed, repeating the movement. This time, though, he quickened the pace as he began peppering little kisses upon your face. Each brush of his lips was like fuel to the fire below, growing angrier with every leisured plunge. “Say it all for me.”

You did not need to be told twice. 

Your whines grew as he quickened, foreign waves of mysterious origin overtaking your body. You feared his singular finger might be enough to do something drastic, but then his thumb started to wander. When he found your clit, he created a slow pattern of circling the bud, causing you to squirm beneath him. 

Seeing him above you was all too much — you needed his lips upon yours, needed to be lost in his tongue or else you would lose your mind. “H-hyunjin,” you stammered out, and the dazed expression had him reeling. “Please...please kiss me.”

He nearly moaned at the request itself. There you were, asking for his touch. His delirium spoke for him, letting his delusion a little astray. “But darling,” he muttered, leaning his face closer to you. “How can I watch you like this if I simply kiss you?”

Releasing his finger till the mere pad remained, he smiled at your panting. “How will I be able to watch you when I do this—” and brought two digits inside you.

He felt your walls pulsate around him, and he revelled in your reactions, the groans that followed with his delving. So, so compliant. So wonderfully welcoming, when all he did was touch the surface. 

Your speech was all muddled, broken words and half-prayers as his fingers worked within you. As if that was not enough, he curled them inside, and there, he brushed against a spot which had you seeing stars. You could hardly stay still under his grasp, squeezing your legs together. 

“Fuck,” he slipped out, and the curse itself had you fisting your hands in his shirt, damning the turnout if it were to tear. “Sweetheart, it’s okay to let go, keep those legs open.”

Further fastening his labour, you found yourself developing the most intense feeling in your gut — like a dark, swirling ball, aching to be released. You tried to raise your head to kiss him, but he only did the same, you barely missing him.

“Hyunjin!” You gasped out, and the said-man knew that no orchestra could compete with the music you tuned for him. Grabbing clumsily onto his collar, you tried with meak strength to bring him down. “Something...it’s wrong, something is amiss—”

You cut a glance down, where your cunt was more than occupied with his digits. “Wh-what am I feeling?!” In a frenzy you stared at him again, tears pricking your eyes. “Why do I feel—”

The duke only shushed you, a gaze akin to affection being offered to you as he trailed a slender finger upon your cheek. “Oh, sweet angel,” he whispered, voice a little breathless.

“That is me keeping my promise.”

And when he finally swooped your lips in a heart-wrenching kiss, fingers never stopping below, you let the overwhelming feeling take over. The aching was freed, and you broke away with a cry as you released onto him, spilling onto the sheets. 

Hyunjin commenced a trail of sweet kisses upon your face, slowing his work inside you. Lethargy washed over you, and you barely sensed him slip his fingers out until the hollowness of your cunt welcomed you in his stead. 

Through heavy-lidded eyes, you watched him as he brought the two digits to his parted mouth, sucking softly on the skin. A low noise hummed out of him, and you found yourself growing warmer all over again.

He caught you looking at him, and he slipped his fingers out with a pop!

“Truly divine, you are.”

Skin burning, you quickly shimmied your nightgown down, earning a chuckle from your husband. “That was…” you began, and you did not know why the thought made you so flustered. 

“Do not worry your pretty mind, sweetheart,” he reassured you, flicking your nose. “Your release was answer enough.”

That only had you all the more embarrassed. “Hyunjin?”

His eyes rooted to yours. “Yes?”

“Was this…” you paused, trying to find the right words. “Was whatever we did...everything? Was this the end?”

Despite the two of you only finishing now, the duke had his gut turning in on itself all over again. This time, he let patience take over. He had been rewarded more than enough.

He still answered with a hushed tone, offering you another vision. Another promise, which he intended on fulfilling even further. 

“Of course not, angel. This was merely the beginning.”

 THE NEXT MORNING SAW THE TWO OF YOU IN LONDON.

It was a much more gradual journey than the previous one, with all the time in the world to go back to the duke’s main estate, where he was called to work after weeks of leisure. You, first indignant, were now devastated to leave Hemingford, a place which became a special haven in such a short time. 

But of course, one could not neglect their husband. Not when that husband would never let you leave his side.

Hyunjin was all eye-smiles in the carriage, hands refusing to let go of you despite your complaints. You did not particularly mind, but when he resorted to kissing you with the curtains drawn, your levels of embarrassment nearly broke the scale, amusing him to no end. 

There was no stopping him, though. After taking the first heated step with you, the vault of restraint in his senses had cracked. All this time he had proceeded with caution, but your heightened whimpers of the night before had undone the cellar of his desires. 

Once again, you had experienced another first with him. A first which he wanted to conquer for a long, long time.

Unfortunately, business called, or else he would have stayed a few weeks more. Damn the men begging his presence, when he could have explored every layer of your innocence in that manor, revelled in ruining you of your ignorance. 

He thought he had time to show the world of pleasure. 

Alas, the fantasy he created in his Manor had to fade.

Reality crashed upon the two of you unfairly quick — there was not a moment’s rest as you arrived at Lansdowne, the official estate of the Hwang family nestled in Mayfair. It was more an enchanting palace than a home, every room, furniture and painting like pieces out of a fairytale. You could never forget the first time you entered, knowing that despite your previous comforts, you were to be spoiled in this abode. 

The unfavourable situation which turned out from this was that your husband was not present to spoil you in his royal den.

As the days began there, with banality taking over, the two of you barely had any occasion to spend some time together. Business sunk its claws into the duke, refusing to show mercy. All the days and most nights, he managed tenants on his lands, heard their complaints and attempted to provide solutions. 

The problems arose while he was away tending to you in your getaway, his subordinates incapable of handling the work he did so effortlessly. It frustrated Hyunjin to no end, when he had to learn these strategies since his adolescence, yet his employees, far older than him, could not manage to use his funds efficiently. 

Although this meant time was sparse together, you did not mind so terribly. Having solitude meant having opportunities to write, and so you threw yourself into your drafts. You revised the more intimate scenes between your couple, and dared write down your first experiences onto the page.

Even documenting the occurrence had your stomach fluttering — when he kissed you delirious, going as far as slipping his fingers inside you. It felt like a delusion in your mind, scared that you merely created such events through your imagination, but you could not not make up such passion.

Hwang Hyunjin had shown you a very tangible fantasy.

It was these memories that kept you company as you penned down your world, a couple thousand words being scrawled on paper everyday. You wished to talk to him about taking matters further with your novel, but whenever the two of you had the occasional dinners you could not bring yourself to address the subject. He was already so occupied, and dumping your own tasks on him would devastate you

So you secluded yourself into your room, and only wrote.

Few weeks into Lansdowne, and you began to miss him.

You did not know how this feeling entered, but the moment it crawled into you it was all you could endure. It was not uncommon for you to miss your dear friend, even before marriage, but now that you lived with him, the situation changed. During the afternoons, when you burned your mind from the constant writing, you longed for his presence; conversation never ran dry when he was around, and the maids who offered refreshment were hardly an alternative.

Your longing, unfortunately, did not stop there.

Ever since that fateful night, you failed in shaking off the ever present tingling. His midnight eyes, akin to the devil, haunted you in isolation, and the sheer image of his full lips quickened your heartbeat. In fact, when you wrote a similar recount into your writing, the incident came into your mind so clearly you had to abandon the task altogether. The familiar wetness pooled at your core, and you cursed the heavens for being weak.

His fingers had an everlasting impression on you.

That was a whole other problem — you and Hyunjin, because of his tightening schedule, hardly had any opportunity to explore further of what happened. Teasing words and stolen kisses were your only alternative, and you dared not ask of him to do more. Your cowardice may have been one of the main reasons, but he was another factor of your silence. The man came home every night, so exhausted that even requesting to have him satisfy you brought you shame. He was much too tired, and you could not be selfish.

So you did not bother him. Let him leave every morning, and imagine what would be if he did not have so many responsibilities.

However, another couple of weeks later, and the need became unbearable.

Your every thought and feeling was replaced with this...this urgency. It was horrifying to you, never having been forced to such extremes, but it preyed on your mind like a beast. Meaningless tasks turned into burdens, sleep was lost, and your very heart threatened to burst from the intuitions. You wished to stop, but once you remembered that phantom touch, it was over. There was simply no alternative.

During those times, you could barely look at Hyunjin, offering you tired smiles as he disappeared into your chambers. You figured he did not notice, or else you knew he would make a comment on your worsening state. Truthfully, you were overjoyed that he was too exhausted to see you like this. If there was any chance he was aware, that alone would kill you off.

But this desire, too, was slowly withering you away.

Even as the sun began to descend, birds singing softly beyond your intricate window, soon to be drawn to a close. The library was bathed in gold from the light, painting your face as you attempted to write the last of the chapter, but to little success. 

You figured your creativity had had enough of being stuck in your bedroom, so you opted for a change of scenery, but the parasite was at hand, churning just below your stomach. Even with the thousands of books settled all around you, radiating their knowledge, the ache remained, dull yet present. You scowled, pushing the pencil harder in your hand.

The poor lead broke suddenly, making you flinch. “Argh!” you let out, throwing the object upon the desk. Useless — you were so utterly useless, reduced to a mold of nerves, growing with each image that passed in your head.

Cursing, you put your hands in your lap, looking to the gardens beyond the window. 

There is nothing you can do, ____.

The need arising, you slid your palms back, enough so they rested over your core. 

A dangerous thought entered your mind.

That’s not true. There is one solution.

Your eyes widened.

Of course, there was always that alternative. Glancing down, you involuntarily pressed your palm to your clothed cunt. Already a wave of pleasure washed over you, and you suppressed any sound with a hand to your mouth.

You cannot. By God, you cannot do such a thing.

Especially in a bloody library.

Turning around, you glanced at the bookshelves guarding your figure, stretching to the painted ceiling. As an aspiring writer yourself, you cursed yourself for suggesting to do such an action in your temple, with the place your church and the books your Bible. 

However, when the ache begins to creep over, your morality seemed to fade at first flight. 

What a shame your brain was not to be listened to.

Shooting up from your chair, you nearly fell to the plush carpet, leaning against the desk. Gradually, you took a step forward, and another, searching for any secluded area among the lines upon lines of populated shelves. 

“Where is it, where is it,” you mumbled to yourself, passing the Greek Literature aisle, moving further into the darker section. When you spotted the end of the library, you turned to a dim lit section of Romantic poets. “Aha!” You exclaimed, finding the place you were searching for.

This particular section has been a favourite little hiding place for Hyunjin. Recalling the memories, you always caught him here whenever the two of you played hide-and-seek, or when to comfort him here after a particularly harsh spat with his father, the late Duke of Hastings. Above all else, he found himself isolating here whenever he wished to read by your insistence, finding solace in the words of Blake and Wordsworth, picked up on the shelves. 

You, on the other hand, did not come here to read. 

Backing up against the wall, you let yourself fall to the lush carpet. There was barely enough space to stretch your hands apart, feeling the wall on one side, and the bookshelves with the other. It was small trouble, though, as space was not the priority — simply distance. 

Thankfully, you had time — dinner would be served in about an hour, and the servants had been told not to disturb you as you ‘write’.

It was now or never.

“Lord forgive me.”

Grabbing onto your skirts, you raised them upwards, along with your petticoats. After undressing your pantalettes, your white stockings came into view, ending right above your knees, tied with baby pink ribbons. 

With your underwear gone, you felt the cold caressing your dripping cunt. Immediately your fingers rushed to swipe at the arousal that pooled onto the carpet, a hiss escaping your lips. Then, moving higher, you felt the swell of your clit, and began to rub circles, so, so slowly — just like Hyunjin did, exactly like his fingers did.

The ripples of pleasure crashed over you with every swipe of your fingers. It was the most wonderful feeling, experiencing it after a span of weeks. Yes, somewhere in the back of your rational mind, you knew you looked pathetic, whining softly from your own efforts, but your desperation took over; you had been patient long enough.

Your desire, however, had no such moments to waste with such gradual rubbing, so pent up inside you that it forced you to quicken your pace. You prayed that no one heard you, for the sobs that flew out your mouth increased, playing and teasing your clit till it nearly numbed you.

The real bliss poured out when you plunged two of your fingers into you, going deeper and creating that identical pace, relished before. You closed your eyes, and images came flashing back — the midnight eyes returned, along the malicious grin, and suddenly it was not your fingers that pulled and pushed into your cunt. Your mind dared to conjure up Hyunjin, his dark laughter ringing in your ears as he curled his fingers into you, reaching a spot which had you seeing the seven heavens. 

So far along, you did not care if the others heard. With your concoction before you, fingering you delirious, you called out his name. A panted “Hyunjin!” squealed out of you, the word laced with madness. How you begged for release, when it was actually in your control.

And maybe you would have come all over your fingers at that moment. Maybe that was a fantasy that would have been rewarded to you if reality had not been so unkind.

For it was reality that arranged a presence turning to his favourite hiding spot. For it was cruel, cruel reality, bringing at your secret aisle the very man who caused your current frenzy.

Hwang Hyunjin. 

Sweet Duke of Hastings, who thought to surprise his wife and return home early, so he could join her at dinner this evening. Curious Duke of Hastings, who found the servants informing of your ‘work’ in the library, and so walking to you himself, expecting the distant sound of sighs and scribbles on paper. 

Shocked Duke of Hastings, when he heard his name instead, being moaned at the end of his library. 

His pupils dilated, gloved fingers hanging on the edge of the shelf, he grew flushed in his attire as he watched your near undoing. You whimpered his name over and over, as if that was your only comfort among the heavy sensation in your gut, the pleasure which numbed your senses. He trailed down to your sopping fingers, clumsy in their rhythm.

A shuddered breath escaped him.

It was then he let out the most self-satisfactory scoff. 

That moment, you opened your eyes. Widened when they settled on your husband, face exposing an aghast expression as he crossed his arms, gaze never leaving the mess between your legs.

He had the audacity to grin wickedly.

“Oh my, sweet angel. What do we have here?”

Your entire body stilled, fingers frozen inside of you. Every ounce of strength, which tried to make you speak, abandoned ship. 

Noticing clearly, a splutter of hellish laughter spilled from his lips. “All this time,” he began, feline amusement dripping in his voice. “All these lonely, lonely weeks, I was so guilty.” His boots made a soft thump against the carpets, grey longcoat fluttering after him. “I kept thinking, see, of you, so alone and unentertained. Stuck in her chambers all day and night, burning out her brain with her words. Writing of my examples.”

He unbuttoned his overcoat, pinning you with his gaze. “Little did I know you were impersonating me.”

You almost cried with shame. 

“God, I doubt I can call you angel, again,” he drawled, tossing his woolen jacket behind him on a nearby chair, pulling off his gloves. 

He uncovered his slender hands, continuing, “Not with your fingers still in your cunt.”

That nearly had you in tears — you yanked your digits out, making to push your skirts down in a hurry but were dutifully stopped by his raised voice.

“Pray, darling,” he inquired, and you could taste the ridicule as he stood before you, crouching down. “What do you think you are doing?”

He did not give you time to answer as he grabbed your hand, half-soiled by your endeavours. “Why have you stopped the show when the intended audience has arrived?”

All these questions messed with your senses, squeezing your thighs together as the high, threatening to undo you before, began to fade. “Hyunjin—” you said, but you were interrupted, as, with his hand, he lifted your trembling figure with ease. Legs unstable, you let him steer you until your back hit the bookshelves.

“Another notion puzzles me too.” His golden locks skirted along as he cocked his head.

“Why did you scream my name when you touched yourself?” 

Your mouth parted, remembering your incessant whining. The thought caused your entire body to burn up, your husband taking instant note. “Come on, now, darling,” he taunted, grip on your hand tightening. “We both know you are more than capable of speaking.”

It was surprising how you managed to speak, despite the phantom touches.

“I…” you paused, embarrassed that you tried to tell him the truth. “I do not know...damn it!” you hissed as you saw a phantom smile accompanying his hands. “I had this...this need, Hyunjin. Everytime I recalled that night, I…all I wanted was some sort of...release.”

“Oh?” he got out, and he had to cage you with his hands for his own stability. 

The thought of you, withering in pleasure — pleasure you did not realise you yearned for — had his mind transcending any sense. There he was, stirring the cauldron of desire bubbling in your veins, your face twisting in pain from your lack of knowledge. 

He had to pray for forgiveness for his mentality, but at this moment in time, he only knew of one religion. You, and your wishes, whispered in panted breaths.

“If that was what you felt, then why did you not tell me?”

If it was not for his hand gripping yours, you would have covered your face. “How could I?” you whined out. “You were so busy! I could never be selfish enough to put myself before you.”

His heart nearly burst from his chest. “My darling,” he hummed, stroking away the flyaways upon your face. “Do you not realise that I put you before myself?”

Your confusion had him continuing. “If you had told me that you had such...needs, then I would have damned the work to hell.”

Suddenly, you wished you were the most selfish person in the world.

“Every wish, your every want…” his eyes promised the world. “It is mine to bring it to you.

“So tell me, angel.” His fingers lingered on your face. “What do you want?”

Alas, that fated question.

What you wanted was to tell him without doubt that you wished for his fingers inside you again. What you wanted was your husband fulfilling his promises, showing you more, more, more until you forgot your name from the sheer force.

You hated how your speech could never voice it out loud with confidence.

The man noticed your face warming beneath his touch as you stammered, “I-I want—” pausing from his fingers on your cheek, “Hyunjin, I want you to…” 

Your pathetic attempts had him chuckling. “So innocent to me still?” He asked softly. “Even when I caught you moaning my name like a whore in the night?”

Whore. Sane you would have slapped him for saying such a thing, but the arousal that pooled at the term meant completely different. He was aware of your reaction, causing him to be compliant. 

One day, he would voice it out of you. One day, you would say from your own mouth that you wished for ruination.

“How about this, ____?” he started. He brushed a small kiss upon your forehead, heart fluttering at the chaste action. “When you want me to stop, voice that out instead.” The next kiss was upon the tip of your nose. 

You thought up a worrying confession, but when you saw his expression change, you realised you blurted it out.

“I don’t think I would want you to stop, Hyunjin.”

The molten lust in his eyes nearly undid you then and there. He offered you a low, satisfied growl, wondering how in God he could ever resist you.

“I don’t think I would be able to, angel.”

He did not say any more, swooping down and enveloping your lips with his.

You instantly accepted him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him closer, closing your eyes and letting him paint an artwork of desire upon your mouth. You could tell he was trying to be gentle, but your confession cracked the glasshouse of desire he had tended for so long. 

His tongue was inside your mouth at once, and you relished its desperation, letting it explore all of you as his hands wandered down, your own sliding into his locks. Softer than all the silks in the land, you already felt the moans bubble within your throat, partially escaping with every parting. His heavy breathing in your ears only wished for all distance to fade.

There was so much of him, all at once — you had shared kisses with him after that fated night, but you knew those kisses were the sole form of affection he could offer in those lonely weeks. The way he bit your bottom lip, soft and then a little harder, had you losing all sense.

It was such things that made you realise how much you missed his presence.

Tearing away from your lips, he gave fevered attention to your neck, trailing his kisses down your skin, open and wet and restless. “Hyunjin—” you began, but then you gritted your teeth at the pain of his suction upon your throat. His hands pushed you further into the shelves, and a few books began to fall at the force. 

“H-Hyunjin!” you exclaimed, eyes darting frantically to the classic editions that scattered on the floor. “W-wait, not here!” 

The man blinked in his haze of desire, looking at you. “Huh?” he got out, spit-slick lips parted, his whole body raising from his breaths. “Why not?”

“The-the books, they...!” you tried to explain, but with the stare he offered, you quietened within moments. “...Hyunjin?”

His answer was his hand taking your wrist and turning from the secluded corner. He steered you out of the hiding place, pace hurried with each step he took. Head whirling to every aisle, he cursed under his breath, finding the spaces between the shelves filled only with books. 

“What are you...searching for?!” you demanded in bated breaths, but then he let out a satisfied noise as he found an open aisle, the first line of shelves in the library. 

In front of those shelves sat a large, wooden step ladder — no doubt there to grab onto the higher sectioned novels. A knowing smirk enveloped his features as he led you to where it stood, backing you against it.

A small yelp escaped you as the man hoisted you upon the steps, you holding onto his shoulders as he slithered his arms around your waist. “There,” he said, tilting his head slightly upwards. “Now you shan’t worry about your novels falling.”

“Easy for you to say!” you crowed, already feeling unstable, despite sitting on the sixth step. “This time it might be me falling!”

“Well then,” he began, tugging your legs apart till he fit snug between them, “You just have to hold on tight, don’t you?”

Oh, you were going to kill him.

Leaning forward, he halted your breath, brushing his lips across your neck. “I can stop if you wish,” he whispered on your skin. His hand rested over your chest, where it rose unevenly under his palm. When you did not answer he looked up, climbing so he levelled with your face. 

You felt his heavy breathing fan your lips. “Do you want me to stop, angel?”

His eyes saw right through you — with the way a malicious smile began playing at his lips, he knew his answer long before you registered it yourself.

Head shaking hurriedly, you murmured out your response as you grabbed onto the lapels of his longcoat. 

“Never.” 

You pulled him down, desire taking control of your senses as he undid you with his lips. His hands, sliding down, hitching your skirts higher than before, bunching it at your waist. Never giving himself a break on your mouth, he peeled off his coat, tossing it beside the ladder. Only when you broke away to take a panted breath did he begin his descent — kisses on your neck dragged down further, along your clothed abdomen until he parted, shuffling the fabric from between your thighs.

An uneasy fuck flew from his mouth — your glistening cunt welcomed him again, the recollections of the last honeymoon night crashing back. 

In truth, the events had not left his mind. The memories of his fingers playing with you, inciting those sinful sounds were the few things which brought him a high in the dark days of work. You, drenched by his efforts, dripping for him, and only him, to take care of you.

Seeing the sight before had Hyunjin restraining his cock. Fuck, he thought, leaning closer till his face was a mere inch from the center. He did not comprehend the consequences of this; what if he went crazy? A part of him was distinctly aware that if you were heavenly around his fingers, then you with his tongue would transcend reality.

Hands holding the back of your knees, he slung your legs over his shoulders, securing his fingers upon your thighs. With one last inhale, he closed the distance.

Nothing compared to his tongue running along your slit.

A hiss left you at the contact, tendrils of pleasure curling up your spine as he explored the edges of your cunt. He was teasing, being too leisured for your liking — he could not help himself, fearing he would rush the process and end it too quickly.

He wanted to be inside you the entire night.

Your incessant whining had him lapping up the wetness, gripping onto your legs a little harder as he delved in further, tasting your arousal and letting out a satisfied noise. Leaning your head back against the higher steps, your hands carded through his hair, his locks a comfort for the slow torment below.

When his tongue dove upwards, circling your clit, an obscenely loud moan tumbled out of you. He was so exceptional, so good at what he did to you, licking away at the bud as if he had not been served for days. Your whining was more encouragement for his antics, increasing his strokes with a slight curve to his lips. 

What reduced you to choked gasps was an old prospect from the first night — his digits, leaving one of their spots on your leg and slipping one inside your folds. As if his tongue was not enough, that singular finger created a rhythmic pattern of plunging in and out of you. 

You thrashed under his grip, hips rolling giddily along with his work. Even the ladder began to shudder, jutting slightly back and forth from your desperation. Although the squeeze on your thigh was an indication to calm down, you ignored it, too intoxicated by the thrusts of his tongue to realise his signal. 

He made you realise as he paused his ministrations entirely. You nearly shrieked at the lack of his presence, but then you looked down, and found his lust-hazed eyes staring at you. 

“H-Hyunjin?” You mumbled, voice raspy from your previous moaning. 

The slick glazed on his lips brought you another level of high. “I need you to stay still, darling,” he voiced, slender hand gripping onto your thigh. “You even have the poor ladder shaking.”

You willingly nodded your head, knowing you were lying through your teeth. If he continued with his tongue prodding at your clit, then you would start trembling from the thrill. 

“I don’t think I believe you,” he mused, blowing on your drenched cunt. Seeing you shiver had him chuckling. ”I need you to be still if you want true pleasure, sweetheart.”

An ironically chaste kiss upon the edges of your thigh gave you more reason to grip him harder. “I want you to enjoy this as much as I am.” 

As much as I am.

Good, sweet Lord.

Maybe you will never move an inch again.

“K-keep going,” you whispered, near frantic as you played with his locks. “Please.”

The please at the end was exactly what he needed before he pounced into you again. 

His tongue was relentless — a second finger joined in the venture, and the fullness of him was back again, with an intensity that only promised satisfaction. You knew it was coming, with the heaviness in your lower abdomen. 

You needed that release. Whatever it took, it was the only image in your mind, taunting you of the relief that came with it. With the hard grip of his locks, your husband sensed it straight away, quickening his pace with both his tongue and digits. 

Damn Hwang Hyunjin to Hell, for he was so unfairly good to you — licking your clit to a frenzy, touching a certain spot inside you, over and over again. He never missed, never faltered his labour as the burden inside you intensified. You sang his praise in your stained mind, hoping he could see the joy on your face.

“Hyunjin—!” You whined out, stealing a glance at his head, moving back and forth slightly between your legs. “It’s—the feeling, the one before—!”

You did not have to say anything else; his free hand, wrapping fully around your slung over leg, made you realise of his awareness. The feeling was at its peak then — one more of his stripe along your cunt, and it was over.

Fortunately for you, the Duke of Hastings kept his promises. 

One little nibble of your bud, plunging in his two fingers at the same time, and it was useless. Your release came rushing through, cries escaping your lips as you undid yourself onto his mouth. All sense of surroundings abandoned you: you were drifting away, like a kite losing its roots, further and further as his fingers slowed. You feared that you would lose all sense until his tongue lapped up the release. His hums of satisfaction anchored you back into the library, hands at your hips as he heaved upwards, watching over your dazed expression. 

You saw his every move, licking the remnants of your release off on his face. He then hovered closer, locks more sweat slick as they caressed your skin. 

“God, angel,” he rasped out, holding your chin with his stained fingers. “You…I can’t...I can’t get enough of you.”

He stole a kiss upon your mouth, but your shy whines caused him to go deeper, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip. “Shit,” he whispered as he parted from your lips. “You must stop me, ____. I cannot take you all at once, I…no matter how much I wish, I cannot...fuck, I cannot taint you.”

And maybe it was your husband, admiring you like a poet would his muse. Maybe it was something more than the dull ache inside you, the flutter moving to your heart which had you saying the next words. 

“But I...” you paused, every panted breath heavy. “I never…never asked you to stop.”

Hyunjin stilled completely before you. 

His eyes were too much, but you did not stop the confession pouring out. “If...if there is something more, I…” his thumb on your chin hardened.

“I want to know. I want to see it all...even if it may taint me.”

There it was. 

The thoughts which haunted you for the past few weeks. You wanted more, even if that meant that this more would one day be satiated. You wanted to see the end, the final stage, because you knew deep down, your best friend was still holding back from you.

You saw it in his eyes. You saw his unadulterated desires, dark and fearful, yet you wanted to be surrounded by his darkness. 

You wanted Hwang Hyunjin to break you like he wished.

Sure enough, he saw it all over your face too. His jaw turned slack, and he debated slamming his head against the shelves to make sure he was not dreaming.

He did not think his wife would let him have a moment’s peace. 

“God help you, sweet angel,” he murmured, glancing at your dress — more specifically, how to get you out of it. “I don’t think I can leave you innocent any longer.”

You parted your mouth to speak — Hyunjin was about to interrupt you, perhaps take you to the final stage of your passions.

Everything was about to descend when you heard the shrill knock on the door.

Your heart jumped out of your dress, the man above you catching onto your shock. With an unexpected burst of anger, he turned his head towards the large doors and screamed, “Who the fuck is it?!”

The servant at the opposite side flinched at the tone of voice. “Um, there is a guest in the living room, Your Grace!”

That did not help his case. “Then tell them to piss off!” The Duke demanded, holding onto you a little harder.

“But Your Grace, he urgently requests your presence!” The boy insisted. “We tried telling him of your...distractions, but he would not listen!”

Hyunjin looked like he was about to tear the manor down with his orders, and you widened your eyes, holding onto him. “It’s alright,” you reassured him, and possibly reassuring yourself too.

He glanced at you, and the frenzied stare he pinned you with shut you right up. “Fuck,” he cursed, running an angered hand through his hair, the other not leaving your side — as if you would fade from his grasp. 

You feared it too, in truth, that he would disappear. The thought plagued your senses, much more than you would have liked.

“To hell with that bloody guest,” he growled, leaning into you again. He pressed his forehead against yours, cupping your face with his hands. “To hell with everyone.”

“Hyunjin,” you breathed out, relishing the contact. “Hyunjin, it’s okay…” you held his agitated stare, wondering why you were convincing him to go when you wanted him to stay. “I will be here, you know...when you come back.”

He searched your gaze for confirmation, needing to affirm your words. When he found the suppressed desire within, he could not help himself. 

He planted his mouth upon yours, finding solace along the lines of your lips — he loved how your every kiss was a comfort, a sweet little sin all for him to enjoy. In honesty, he could spend an eternity basked in your warmth, but alas, reality was a villain in his tale.

Forcing himself to pull away, he ran a tender thumb along your cheek. “I shan’t take long, angel.”

You nodded tiredly, in time to the man holding your waist as he settled you back onto the carpet. Lingering for a few moments, he made himself leave your side, grabbing his coat and donning the heavy fabric. He satiated his desires with a glance towards you, dazed off with your hands clinging the ladder railing still. 

A small smile catching onto his lips, he turned on his heel, promising murder to whoever disturbed the moment he dreamed of. Opening the door, he looked back, catching your stare. 

The smile upon his face grew wider. A smile so sincere, so loving, with all the world’s miracles nestled upon his pretty mouth. It was a smile that you had never seen before, with all your years beside him — seeing it now had you wishing you could bottle the image and carry it with you forever.

It was a smile which had you so in love with him.

Love.

It was then your heart dropped. 

Hyunjin, unaware, closed the door behind him, leaving you to your revelation.

Instantly, you clutched at your chest, heartbeat racing. 

In love.

You were in...in love with Hwang Hyunjin.

“No,” you slipped out, mind rushing a mile a minute. “No, no, no, no—”

You gripped the railing harder as the hand on your heart trailed down, shivering from the phantom touches of your husband.

Hell, of the husband that you had fallen for. 

One would think love was an entity writers would idolise — your own inspirations searched and indulged in all kinds of love, but you always accepted that an emotion so intense was not for women like you. Love was a rarity. Love was unconditional, strong and vivid and all-consuming. 

Love, undoubtedly, was a weakness.

Your breathing turned ragged, hands reaching to clasp your head in panic. 

I will be here...when you come back.

Your promise to him, before he left you to your hysteria.

Why would you ever say such a thing to him?

“Oh, no,” you kept chanting, turning over to your side, away from the door and towards the window, where night was small comfort to your nerves. 

You could not let yourself succumb to a man. No matter how dear he was to you.

And if that meant staying away from your husband, then so be it.

 IT WAS UTTER AGONY AVOIDING YOUR BEST FRIEND IN EVERY PASSING MOMENT. 

Perhaps you should have given reasonable explanation to why you decided to distance yourself, but of course, reasonable explanation was never your forte. 

Hyunjin, damn him, tried to make more effort in returning home earlier, despite his business demanding his presence with every passing day. You were almost powerless under his tender gaze, but you knew that you could not be swayed.

As if you had not fallen under his spell already.

Your only distraction was your novel, so you did just that — even with your husband in the manor, you closed yourself from everyone, writing furiously on your desk as if committing to anything else would cost your life. The flushed skin did not shy away as you wrote of your second experience, changing the events slightly so they fit your story. The memories tried to torture your mind, but you refused to submit. You could not fall for Hyunjin.

You could not fall for a man.

The duke did not realise of your avoidances, simply thinking that you evading his more heated kisses, his dangerous touches, was a result of your fatigue. He understood, knowing you worked your brain as hard as he. He was upset, obviously, when he craved your touch every waking second. For you, though, he would do anything. If that meant waiting, he would do that too.

However, your recoiling could only last so long. Your best friend knew you like the back of his hand.

He figured something was amiss when he decided to grace you with his presence one evening, expecting another show of your moans behind the door, only to have the distant scribbling of ink against paper. Entering inside, he awaited your surprise, your unadulterated joy, bracing himself to have his arms engulfed with your hug.

In reality, he received a mumble of blessing, and the continuing scribbling.

He was not trying to coax you into giving him affection. He was well aware of how hard you worked on your novel, but that day, he dearly wished you would abandon your project for just a night. Just one, single night, so he could show you how much he missed you every single moment.

Poor, unfortunate man. How was he to know that your affection was the one thing you could not give him?

Another few days into the silence, and Hyunjin had had enough.

He called to you one dinner, ushering the servants away with the flick of his hand. The dining room became all the more huge, like a lush vault, perfect for a sweet interrogation as the velvet curtains drew to a close, and the eyes of a hundred paintings focused on you. You swirled the soup with your spoon, refusing to look at him. 

“Darling?”

Damn him and his endearments. “Hmm?”

The man, too, seemed to be unsure of how to talk of the subject. “Is…” he put his cutlery on the table. “Is everything...alright as of late?”

Your gaze remained rooted to your food. “Of course,” you said. “Why would I not be?”

There was a heavy silence in the room, new and uncertain between the two of you. Your friendship with the duke had never been filled with such quiet — why were you creating such awkwardness around him?

You already knew the answer.

“Do counter me if I speak incorrectly,” he began, grabbing the stem of the wine glass. “But I have noticed you to be quite...secluded.”

“I am busy, Hyunjin,” you said curtly. “I have a whole novel to edit.”

His lips twitched downwards before opening his mouth, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a small sip. “I know you do, and you know I am proud of you for it.”

Choosing to not say anything, you tried finishing off your dinner, aware that you were losing your appetite. It seemed your husband did not want to back down tonight. “____, I feel as if you are hiding something from me.”

The spoon in your hand nearly clattered in the bowl. “And why would you think that?”

“Because—!” Hyunjin paused, downing some more wine. “I do not know, but I feel as if you do not want to speak to me.”

He was too smart for his own good. “You are imagining things,” you waved him off, finding your salad fork oh so interesting in the candlelight.

“Look at me.”

His voice stopped you cold. 

Your gaze scrambled to meet his, and although his command was rough, his eyes exposed a completely different emotion. 

Pure concern washed over his features as he muttered, “Have I done something wrong?”

That question broke your heart.

“No, no, of course not,” you quickly said. You bit your lip in guilt, watching him sigh, almost in relief.

This was the consequences of your actions. A man who had done nothing unjust, yet was being punished. Pure shame coursed through your veins, catching the distress on his face, and you wondered whether you were being cruel. Maybe this time, your feelings were exaggerated.

If you were aware of such truths, then why could you not look your best friend in the eye?

That night, you hurried to bed, leaning on the edge in wait for him. Your thoughts were in disarray; your heart impatiently desired his return, and your brain berated you for daring to. 

Truthfully, it was horrifying how you had become so dependent on someone, when your entire life you relied on the fantasies in your head. Although your revelation was every lady’s dream in society, you felt as if another burden had been dumped upon your shoulders. This time, though, this burden would last for the rest of your life.

These thoughts were your singular company, when you lay awake all night. You were acutely aware of Hyunjin slipping between the sheets, but you did not move a muscle. A small part of you knew that if you turned, you would be unable to resist his whimsical gaze and wandering touches.

So you lay rigid, only letting yourself sleep till your best friend submitted himself to oblivion.

He, too, could not bear to live like this.

The Duke of Hastings was not a fool. He had not known you for over a decade to discard you lying through your teeth. It was beyond his understanding the reasoning of your change, but it deeply disturbed his soul. 

He turned in the bed, watching your back bathed in moonlight. Why would you not tell him what bothered you? What had he done wrong?

As he watched you stay rooted in one position, his thinking turned to dark corners. A realisation struck him; you started acting this way the day after he nearly took you in the library.

This alarmed him greatly — was that why you were so troubled? Were you...uncomfortable with his touch?

His heart dropped down to his gut. 

If you truly detested his affection, then he would not know what to do with himself. Recently, it was all that haunted him — you, you, and a little more you, strolling through his mind as if it were your domain, creating stories underneath his eyes. It only worsened when he discovered your sweet moans, triggered by his kisses and touches. God, the very thought of you, whining his name as you touched yourself, brought him a familiar feeling amplified. So ardently he wished to taint you further. 

Even thinking of the images had him clutching his pillow tighter, fingers aching to turn you over. 

However, the harsh fact was that you could not bear to look at him, and he had to live with that. Questioning you was of no use. 

Hyunjin only prayed that he did not scare you off. 

Unfortunately for him, his prayers were not to be answered. 

Days passed, and the distance grew. The man dared not say a word to you in fear you would stray further, and you dared not approach him in fear you would fall harder. It was the most abhorrent situation, and you knew you had to get away somehow.

Fate spoiled your plans when Hyunjin revealed some news.

You looked at the invitation in slight horror. “A ball?”

Scratching the back of his neck, he explained further. “When we were...interrupted that day…” he sighed a little. “It was Seungmin who was downstairs.”

“Kim Seungmin? Has he returned from the States?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “And he has decided that the first thing he wishes to do is throw a huge ball in celebration of his return.” A roll of eyes followed. “Forever the dramatist.”

You restrained your laughter. “It has been over 2 years since we met,” you wondered out loud. 

“Well, you can meet him at his estate when we attend the ball.” 

He felt your eyes on him as he declared his words. Awaiting your outright rejection, settling down on the chair in the living room. You watched his thighs tense under the peach trousers as he folded a leg over the other — damn him for being too attractive to refuse.

“Very well,” you only said, not ignoring the nerves which threatened to take over. They increased a little at seeing the smile on your husband’s face.

You needed to stop leading the man on. Never could you go to the ball with him. 

“It is a week from now,” he added, bobbing his foot excitedly. “I shall write back in acceptance as soon as possible!”

Nodding, you returned to your reading, hoping the faux conversations were enough distraction.

A week. Seven days to somehow escape from this event, or else everyone would see you enter the ball as an official couple, and then your fate as another man’s property would be sealed.

Had he ever made you feel as such?

You did not let yourself ponder over this further. Your only objective was getting out of this invitation.

However, you were a duchess. Trying to hide yourself from London society was an unattainable feat. 

The reminder had you nearly ripping the page off your book, too stressed to read on.

This became your focus of the next week, pondering over the night of the ball, scouring your mind with the possibilities which may occur at Seungmin’s estate. As the days neared, Hyunjin insisted you go shopping in search of a special ball gown, and you only obliged so you did not have to be in the same house as him. Still, if he was not there physically, his image preyed upon you in the markets, constantly reminded of his opinions and likings in every fabric you ran your hands upon. 

There was no escaping him. You were disgustingly obsessed.

Purchasing everything you needed, you requested it to be charged on Hastings’ tab, a privilege awarded to you ever since your joining with the duke. You always argued that you wished to spend your own money, but he would not listen.

“But I adore spoiling you, angel,” he would merely say, and buy up half the boutique, leaving you a flustered mess. The conversations did not leave you as you bought your dresses and accessories, returning home and dreading interaction.

Excusing yourself, you shut yourself in your room once more, and wrote.

Wrote away your soul in the last days, till it was the morning of the fated event. The sun shone magnificently on your home, but failed to radiate its light on your darkened mood. You had no choice on the matter — you were to accompany Hyunjin to Seungmin’s celebrations, and that was final.

You were about to fake typhoid when a letter arrived for you.

It was from your mother; she wrote in question of your wellbeing, and how much she felt your absence in the house. The content was not very interesting, and you debated writing back with a lack of enthusiasm when you read the last section.

She mentioned tonight’s ball — more significantly, how she felt ever so lonely without you with her, “enlivening her spirits”. The praises were nothing further from the truth, but it was her confession which had an idea rushing to your head.

“Lonely without me, huh?” you murmured, as you rang a bell for a maid. Arriving, you requested for a little trunk, asking for your new dress and other adornments to be packed. “For once, Mama, you have been useful.”

The packing did not take much time, the other servants calling for a carriage as you made preparations to leave for a night. Hyunjin, making his presence known, descended down the stairs, a grin upon his face as his hand fished in his inner pockets. 

When he saw your endeavours, though, his beaming flickered. “What is going on here?” he asked, refusing to look away from your luggage.

You turned to him, mustering up the bravado to face him with your decision. 

“I received a letter from Mama this morning,” you explained to him in faux ease, gesturing for the servants to bring your belongings outside. “She is feeling rather lonesome, so I thought to see her.”

The man was not convinced in the slightest. “Since when did you garner sympathy for your mother?”

Never confide in your best friend again. “Please,” you stressed, holding the letters in your hands. “She still took care of me the best she could. Plus, I would never want to be lonely at that age.”

He was not listening to this explanation though, his hands going into his pockets. “When will you be back, darling?”

The endearment made this all the worse. “The morning after.”

A heavy pause instilled on the both of you before he broke it. “But...but the ball. A-are you to just...abandon the invitation altogether?”

“No!” you began, locking your hands behind your back. “No, I shall meet you at Seungmin’s estate. It is a small setback, but—”

“____, this will be our first social event as husband and wife!” he countered, you grimacing at his minor outburst. “I want you by my side when we walk down the steps!”

“But I will be there, Hyunjin!” you exclaimed. “I do not understand why you suddenly want to follow these silly traditions!”

Gritting his teeth, your friend pinned you with his stare, growing fiery the longer you held it. Traditions never interested him, but this one had been a certainty he had been looking forward to. The image of you, descending the stairs with your hand on his arm, brought him an absurd amount of joy.

But there you were, bursting his bubble of dreams.

“Why is this all coming to light today?” he muttered, taking a step towards you. “Why, on the day of the event, you decide to tell me that you would rather go with your mother, who never truly cared for you, than me?” 

Than me, who always did?

You dared not answer his question truthfully — instead, you let your undeserved anger take the reins of your tongue.

“So you are already suspicious!” you snapped. “Why am I not surprised in the slightest?”

His eyes narrowed at the statement. You did not look into it further as you turned on your heel, heading towards the door. “Do not run away from me, ____!” He shouted, following after you. “Tell me what you implied from that horrendous comment!”

“Oh, let me uncover it clearly for you, dearest,” you snarled, standing at the doorway. The words which were to leave your mouth had sure consequences, but in the moment, you did not care. All you wanted then was an escape.

“You accuse me of scheming and demand me things which I do not want to give you.” 

Your hand gripped the letter behind you. “You’re becoming the one thing I feared, Hyunjin. You’re turning into a typical male.”

The man froze entirely at your claims.

Did not utter a defense against him as you sighed out, glancing away from his shell-shocked eyes. You did not bid your farewells as you descended down the stairs, reigning in your temptation to look back as you made your way to your transport through the gardens. 

As you slipped inside the carriage, clasping your hands in your lap, you wondered whether you had taken a step too far. 

You wondered, with rising dread, whether you had broken your best friend’s heart. 

 MAYBE RUNNING TO YOUR MOTHER HAD NOT BEEN THE BEST OF IDEAS.

Biggest reason being that she was truly a pain in the rear. The moment your carriage had arrived on the rocky entryway of your mother’s manor, she rushed down the steps. After engulfing you with an embrace which might have caused a minor stroke, she hurried you inside, her servants bringing your possessions.

You did not particularly miss your previous abode, although it gave you small relief. You passed the familiar hallways, and settled in the nostalgic parlour room where your mother gushed over your presence.

Still, this manor did not seem like home to you.

Conversation was mostly struck from your opposite, you nearly silent as the woman vented out her frustrations of every family in London, drinking her tea and urging you to take a biscuit or two. Your stomach was void of an appetite, missing other emotions which you abandoned on the other side of the city.

By the time evening arrived, all you wished to do was hide yourself into your old room, but your mother would not accept. Having the maids open your trunk, they brought out the ball gown you had picked for the occasion.

It was a dark, seductive red, swell of its puffs cuffed with black lace — this lace scattered over the fabric, lining not only the neckline but down the chest, rose-like stitches etched onto the bust. The high-waistline also bled further black stitching, almost all over the gown as it fell to the floor, with a midnight ribbon trailing at the back.

You bit back a fevered sigh. Hyunjin would have adored this gown.

The thought had you pursing your lips, requesting the gown be pressed. Then, walking over to the dressing table, you settled yourself onto the seat, using the accessories bought previously to style yourself. With the assistance of a few maids, you managed to accentuate your hair, adding small pearls within the locks.

The ballgown came back in an instant, and you undressed yourself, waving away the girls in your room. Firstly, you slipped on a thin chemise — then, you allowed a maid to enter to help with the corset, who tightened it at the back without mercy to your body. Barely able to breathe, you loosened it slightly after the girl left, focusing your attention on the gown. After adorning the petticoats and white stockings, you adorned your attire, slowly as to not crease its fabric. Hooking the back yourself, you turned to the mirror, holding the black gloves.

There was no doubt about this countenance — it was exactly to your husband’s taste. Clamping your lips together, you donned the gloves, the silk smooth beneath your touch as you filled them to the fingertips. With one final peek at yourself, you slipped into your shoes, and left the bedroom. 

You were a fool to think of any other person but your mother welcoming you at the entrance, but wishful thinking had always been your flaw. Her string of compliments had you adorning a ghost of a smile, but you did not say much as you both climbed into the carriage, instructing to journey to Seungmin’s estate.

Without a novel to distract you, you fell into a habit of clasping and unclasping your hands as you sat, waiting for the ride to be over. Your mother was small comfort as she filled the silence for you, but even her voice strained your mood — you wished for other discourse, or other meaningless entertainment.

You ached for laughter.

Whatever. This was your consequence. You must bear with it.

If your mother knew of your troubles, she certainly did not voice them out loud. She did ask of your relationship with Hyunjin, but you waved her off with false reassurances — you could not have her prying into your private life.

“I hope he has burned off your silly writing fancy!” she drawled, catching the lights of the destination flickering closer to our transport. “As a wife you have much more important duties.”

Gazing afar through the window, you spoke your truth. “Actually, Mama, he encourages it.” A small chuckle escaped you. “I think he wants me to be an author more than I do.”

“Oh?” The woman brought a hand to her chin, impressed. “That is a rare occurrence indeed.”

Catching your raised brow, she scoffed. “Do not gawk as if you are not aware of men. I am shocked he has given you freedom.”

You listened to her, watching the estate linger closer. “Child, you have found a man who does not restrict you in your passions. I do not know how you accomplished such a feat, but you must be extremely thankful.” A glance was stolen towards her. “Such husbands only exist in those books you love so much.”

Before you could comment on her statement, the carriage slowed to a stop, reaching the final stop. The footmen opened the doors, and your mother stepped out first before you followed, careful not to ruin your dress on the pathway. 

The crowds had you leading inside the estate, luxury which could compete with the Duke of Hastings being exulted in every corner of the interior. Dozens of lords, ladies and other aristocrats wandered in all places of the house, your own mother being swept away by her friends in her social circle. Your presence felt less relevant with each passing second, fearing you would lose yourself in the rush of golden curtains, rose perfume and unwelcome conversation.

You thought that this ball would grant solitude, but then you heard the bright drawl of a familiar lord. 

“By God, is that my dear bookworm I see before me?”

Jumping from the voice, you whirled on your heel. A surprised smile caught on your face.

“Seungmin?”

The said-man returned your shock with a mischievous grin. Lord Kim Seungmin changed greatly since the last time you saw him — what was once thinned, pale cheekbones were now full and golden, amplifying his eye-smile, which he did not lose in the Americas. He was adorned in navy blue, contrasting with his off-coloured pants, black hair styled effortlessly away from his forehead.

“My goodness!” he began, strolling over to you with his mahogany cane. “Even after two years you upkeep your radiance.”

“You flatter me,” you said as your smile widened. “You certainly have changed. I adore the tan!”

“I fear you are the sole admirer,” he confided, narrowing his gaze at his incoming guests. “As if I wish to look like a ghost among men!”

“You have earned my approval, at least,” you complimented in earnest. “Not that it would matter much.”

Seungmin scoffed at your comment. “Says one of the most affluent women in the country! When were you going to tell me you were Hyunjin’s bride?”

Your irritation sparked as your heartbeat raced. “It was very recent, I admit. I would have sent word, but it would not have reached you.”

“I daresay I am not surprised.” 

You peered at him, then. “No?”

He gave you an incredulous look. “My dear, everyone anticipated the occasion. Only you were clueless to the possibility.”

Gritting your teeth, you jabbed him with your hand, causing him to chuckle. “Ow! I was hoping you would mature by this time! No doubt your duke encourages this!”

Preferring to stay silent on the matter, Seungmin continued on the subject, making it difficult. “Where is he, by the way? Gossip tells me it is your first ball as a couple.”

“Is he not here?” A shake of his head had your nerves creeping back. “Oh, um, my mother was alone, so I thought to accompany her instead.”

You nearly grimaced at his callous features. “How bizarre,” he murmured. He then offered you his arm. “If so, then allow me to accompany you in his absence.”

Accepting his arm, he helped you navigate your ways through the huge foyer, the grand stairs welcoming you two as dozens upon dozens of aristocrats came into view — the host nodded his head in greeting at every passerby, leading you down each step, until your feet landed on the floor of the ballroom. 

Examining the area, you marvelled at the pastels colouring each wall, corner and crevice of the vast space in the room. Sweet music filled the air, and murmurs of many ladies and gentlemen resonated everywhere around you, growing louder as their eyes rested on you, your sensual attire, and the lack of husband on your arm.

“How about a dance, Duchess?” Seungmin asked you as he brought you closer to the center. 

Instantly you shook your head, stopping in your tracks. “No,” you refused, tugging on his arm. “I have no wish for dancing this evening.”

“As if you ever have,” he mused, earning your glare. “I presume you await for your beau? Everyone knows you dance first with him.”

A sharp breath exhaled from your nose. “Nevermind that, just take me where the cakes are.”

Laughter spilled from his lips, stirring you to the refreshments. “As you wish, ____.”

Making your way through the guests, you finally ended up where the food resided, tables lined from one corner of the room to the other, flanked in every type of nourishment. Your gaze found stands of cakes, and you left your hand on your friend’s arm, raised towards the deserts. As soon as a servant handed you a plate, the chocolate cake was in your hold.

“Honestly,” the host started, as you cut a piece with a fork, digging straight in. “And they call you the pinnacle of grace!”

“Who in heaven said that?” you asked, baffled as you ate another small piece. Seungmin, snapping his fingers, brought a tray of champagne over to you. Picking up two flutes, you began, “For me?”

Downing the first, he offered you a grin. “What made you think that?” he replied, already sipping the second. “My party, my alcohol.”

This time you giggled at his demeanour, he handing you a drink as you finished your cake. The bubbly goodness was welcomed, warming you up and calming your senses. 

After the third glass, the champagne-induced man let out a huge sigh. “Right!” he exclaimed, propping the glasses on the table beside you. “I must find myself a pretty lady to dance with.”

“Do try to stay on your feet, Seungmin,” you said, raising your flute in toast. 

“No promises!” he merely countered, disappearing into the crowd.  

Your smile faded at the isolation which hit.

There you were — hundreds of people surrounding you, many potential partners to dance with, yet there you were, hand not in another hand but wrapped around your alcohol. 

You could not blame a single soul. This was all your doing.

That had you consuming the champagne to the last drop. 

At least there was some form of relief in this ball, as you watched Seungmin and about a dozen couples form a circle at the center of the room. With the first opening of the music the host led his partner, all the others following suit. 

Watching the waltz had you remembering the last dance, the fateful night where this union came into fruition. Your friend’s smile, his hand on another’s waist, all these images reflected the very same you experienced many weeks before.

You bit the inside of your cheek, reminiscing deeper and deeper. You hated how every fibre of your body ached for his presence. The worst part was that it was not mere lust, or the carnal desire which erupted at his thought.

You longed for him — his banter, his mischievous eyes, and his rather heart-wrenching smile.

The music heightened, the climax of the dance falling on the ball room as Seungmin whirled and whirled his partner, a string of giggles faintly heard from the crowd. When he twirled her one last time, he caught her instantly, at perfect harmony with the ending of the sweet melody.

Applause scattered across the hall as the couples bowed to each other.

A curse escaped you then. 

There was simply no doubt of your feelings — avoiding him could never be the solution. 

This revelation may have arrived at the perfect time.

Because, as the music played once more, a figure emerged at the entrance. 

The murmurs, one by one like a slow wave, died down as they caught sight of him, gazes shocked.

Sipping your champagne, quite puzzled, you turned to the origins for this change of atmosphere. 

Every atom in your body stilled. 

Froze completely at the sight which stood at the foot of the steps. 

You were unable to suppress his name.

“Hyunjin.”

It was as if, by a miracle, he heard your shivered whisper — his eyes skimmed the crowd, frantic beneath the calm.

They found you in the chaos.

Your very breath disappeared from your lungs.

Hwang Hyunjin looked like the devil’s greatest fantasy; as if he stole the night and imprisoned it in his attire. He was adorned in lustrous black, waistcoat patterned with red swirls of velvet. His collar was slightly ruffled, cravat of midnight as it barely brushed against his chin. His tailcoat somewhat glistened in the chandelier light, dark leather boots still as he stood before the hall.

His greatest change was his hair. Once golden like the lights of heaven, it was now as black as the underworld. Half of the locks were swept up in a ponytail, the rest curling at his shoulders. 

The flute nearly dropped from your hands. 

Seungmin, finding his friend on the steps, burst into a smile. “Hastings!” he broke through the silence with enthusiasm. With his voice the crowd fell into frenzied discourse, the host making his way through his guests, strolling towards the new arrival. “By God, it has been too long!”

Hyunjin hummed, not particularly interested in what he had to say. His gaze from you did not stray for a heartbeat. Seungmin, catching on, wrapped a hand around his friend’s shoulder. “I see you only came for one person,” he said, leading him to where you stood. 

Champagne was not the only substance which heated you further, cheeks growing warmer the closer he walked over to you. Every move he emitted exuded sensuality, as if his bones were made of silk. 

You let yourself to a third serving when he stopped before you, Seungmin clapping his hands together in excitement. “Look at the two of you!” he proclaimed. “Your clothes match so perfectly!”

Sure enough, both of you adorned the same hues of dark reds and raven blacks. You felt his eyes rake over you, and you restrained to not do the same, lest you let more than your stare wander. “I always knew you two were right for each other,” your friend continued, grabbing his fourth flute, drinking away in glee. “I am overjoyed to see that you both see it.”

Something cold swirled in your husband’s stare, and you ran a finger along the empty glass, embarrassed to hear such genuinity. “Hyunjin, the second waltz is about to start.” He gestured his flute towards you. “I know you always dance with each other first.”

The duke’s eyes flickered to the host for a mere second before pinning on you again. “I have no desire for dancing tonight.”

You had trouble downing your drink. “How strange...” Seungmin noted, darting between the couple. “Your wife here said the same thing not an hour ago.”

“Did she now?”

The silence that followed was quite unbearable. Even your friend was unimpressed, offering Hyunjin a drink from the waiters nearby. “Oh, you both are such bores! Maybe marriage is not the solution after all.”

You dared not look at him then, fiddling with your black ribbon. “I need to get drunk!” the host declared, tutting his head at the tension created. “I will come again when you two stop being so bloody shy.”

Shy would not be the most accurate term, but Seungmin was too intoxicated to care. He strolled to compliment a gathering of ladies within your radius, which left you with the one man you feared to be alone with.

Hwang Hyunjin. 

Hwang Hyunjin, in his changed, midnight glory, watching you with an indecipherable intensity. Creating the wildest butterflies ever felt inside your body. 

You did not know where to start. 

The man did not understand where to begin either, tongue at loss for words. There were too many words to spill, too many feelings left constricted.

He wished to say something, but his senses had failed him. So, much like you, he stayed silent, wondering if the two of you would ever break this barrier.

Even then, he could not help but linger closer, leaning against the lush walls of the room, right beside you. His presence was a blessing and a curse at the same time.

Tailcoat brushing against your skirts, he examined the ballroom along with you, itching to reach for your hand. He would never really, but in that moment, you were beyond tempting. 

You see, he had no idea what you would wear tonight, and after the spat at Lansdowne, he yearned for change — hence the raven hair and darkened clothing, so unlike his usual pastel attire. He did not even think that you would attend the ball in fear of his presence, but seeing you before him, engulfed in his favourite colours…

He would have damned society and taken you in this very hall. 

Daringly, he let himself wonder whether you felt the same — he heard your shocked murmur when he arrived, and the further shocked stare which made him ever so smug. If only you would let him do something about it.

If only you would let him ease this tension before it spiralled out of control.

His thoughts were rudely interrupted as Seungmin came stumbling back, alcohol, swishing back and forth in his new glass as he giggled at his guests. “Dear friends!” he broke out, hands raised, some of the drink accidentally slipping out. “Oh, forgive me, gentlemen!”

You heard Hyunjin sigh beside you as he held his own hands out to steady his friend. “Steady now, man!” he warned. The drunkard only chortled, foot stepping onto your dress.

“You should not have drank so much!” you scolded, raising your skirts. Glimpses of your stockings came into display, and Seungmin shrieked.

“Careful duchesh!” he slurred excitedly, leaning right into you and wiggling the glass as if it were a finger. Unfortunately, he had little control over how hard he shook his alcohol, and it all spilled over. 

Right onto your white stockings.

Yelping, you saw the middle part stain in pinkish-red, murking the material with every drop landing. “Seungmin!” you yelled in agitation. 

“Oh bollocksh!” he cursed, causing a few gasps around the hearing radius. “I apologishe, dear, so very very much—”

Hyunjin, witnessing the scene, stopped a nearby servant. “Please tend to your master, here,” he ordered, pointing towards Seungmin begging for your forgiveness. Nodding, the boy took the host away, the latter hiccuping as he asked for more wine. “And do not give him any more to drink!” the duke added.

Focusing on you, he rushed over, assessing the mess made. “Damn fool has spilled quite a bit.” Whirling his head to any exits, he spotted a dark hallway, remembering the route of the estate. “Come with me.”

You glanced at him, frantic. “Where to?”

He did not answer fully as he wrapped a hand around your waist, almost making you forget that you had wine spilled over you. “Seungmin has many spare rooms,” he explained, leading you out of the ballroom. Thankfully, the crowd was too occupied in preparing for the second waltz to care for the distressed couple. 

Keeping your skirts raised, you managed to keep your gown safe from spillage as Hyunjin led you down the less crowded hallways, depictions of the Kim family painted on the walls. “Ah!” He got out, reaching to a familiar room as he opened it, ushering you inside. “This is where I usually reside whenever I stay at the estate.”

The room was basked in dark, velvety colours, perfect for the man next to you. Lush carpet underneath, the huge bed, nestled at the wall at your right had its curtains drawn, revealing glistening indigo sheets, matching the framing of the bedroom. Dressing tables, wardrobes and the like were furnished at each corner, your focus drifting back to the dweller. 

There was barely any light, save for the oil lamp sparked to life by his match. Setting it to the side of the bed, it brought much more life to the room, previously engulfed in mystery. 

Without the upheaval, the space was basked in silence. You realised the hand on your back was sorely missed, and Hyunjin, standing a few feet away, clenched and unclenched that very hand, yearning for his fingers upon you once more.

But the two of you kept playing that little game of keeping quiet. Sooner or later, one of you will have enough of this sickening ploy. 

Groaning, you walked over to the edge of the bed, kicking your heels off as you saw your stockings, fully stained. “Damn it,” you muttered, promising Seungmin murder. 

Another few minutes of your grumbling, and he had had enough. 

“Maybe I can be of assistance.” 

Perking up, you found Hyunjin, walking slowly to you, hands fumbling in his coat pockets. After a few seconds of rummaging, he brought out a package, tied with red string. 

You raised a brow. “What is this?” 

“Open it,” he merely said, taking a step closer as he held it before you.

Hesitantly accepting, you tugged on the end of the bow, unraveling the tie. You did not forget the stare which rested on you the entire time you opened the wrappings. 

When the paper unfurled, you examined the contents.

Before you were a folded pair of black stockings.

A soft exhale escaped as you beheld the present, the midnight silk soft to the touch, already aware of its rich feel. You delved in further, and uncovered white ribbons at the top, for tightening their grip. 

“How…” you trailed off, dumbfounded at the coincidence. “How did you…?”

“No, no, this was…” he locked his hands behind his back. “Something I was supposed to give you this morning.”

“Oh.” This morning. When you two had that particularly nasty fight. “I see.”

You glanced down at the present again. Hyunjin had proven, once again, how refined his taste was. “I have never seen such exceptional detail on stockings before.” Discarding the paper at your feet, you ran your thumb across the material. “I doubt this suits me at all.”

There was a pause at that. 

You knew there was something he wanted to say. The way his jaw ticked, the boot lightly tapping on the floor — he was bursting to add a comment which may be a risk, considering the circumstance of your relations. 

Allowing yourself to be the first to dare, you peered up at him. The curiosity, explicit in your eyes, had him clearing his throat.

His hesitancy faded. “Show me, then.”

Catching the ferocity in his stare, you swallowed, hand at your skirts. “If…if you wish.”

And that was all he needed to begin.

You watched as the man descended on his knees, lingering upon you until he looked down, revealing your white-clad legs the further you raised your gown. You stopped before the ends, holding onto your skirts and petticoats as if your life depended on it.

Hyunjin’s gaze did not waver as his hand raised forward, finding themselves upon the bow at the top of the stockings as the other gently held your ankle. Untying the ribbon, he hooked his fingers under the tight fabric, your skin brushing against his knuckles. Slowly, he pulled down the stocking, uncovering your skin before him under the dim lamp light. When it bunched up, his hand at your ankle stretched the ends of fabric, sliding the stocking right off. 

Discarding it behind him, he repeated the unveiling on the other leg. He noticed your skin heating underneath his touch, and he dared not expose his growing delight. 

Once the other half slid off, joining its partner, a hand raised in front of you. You stared at him in dazed confusion, and his fingers curled, save for the pointer directed at your present. 

“The stockings, darling.”

The endearment had you falling short — his caresses on your shin brought you back to consciousness, your hand beyond your control as it handed the gift to him. Taking it, he put one of them beside him, bunching the other with his hands till he directed the entrance to your foot on his lap.

Slipping them on, he worked his way upon your heel; his hands were slow, fingers softer than the silk beginning to cover your leg. Every fleeting touch had small shockwaves coursing up your body, as if it was the first time he laid his hands on you. How were you so unaccustomed to his caresses still?

Maybe because he knew how to agonise you. 

When reaching above your knee, he brought the ends of the stocking to your thigh. His fingers fell to the ribbon dangling from the underside and, with the utmost care, began to tie the two pieces together, forming a pretty red bow. 

As he closed the pattern, he tightened the bow, securing the fabric — snuffing out any possibility for the fabric to fall.

He then continued on the other leg, gaze flickering from your legs to your face. He caught every laboured breath you released, every flutter of your eyes slipping you in and out of a daze. His fingers were slower still, as if he never wanted this to stop. The stockings were like a second skin, adding a lustre to your legs the more he covered you with it. 

Sliding over your knee for the last time, he held onto the blood-coloured ribbons. Fingers skimming against silk-stained skin, he tied another perfect bow, tightening it at the ends. 

All done.

His gaze lingered on the bows, the sliver of skin past your thighs. His hands too, refused to leave your legs.

It was then his eyes flicked upward — right into yours. 

You caught every swirl of desire residing inside. 

Every little detail etched on his face was stained with lustful anguish, suppressed hunger of things you dared not imagine. You held onto your skirts with more force, afraid you would lose strength in your hands. 

Hyunjin’s hands, however, had no such troubles.

For they began to carry out his wishes — they slid upwards, past the stockings and upon your upper thighs, spreading them enough to slip himself between your legs. This alone had you near crumbling for him, but his eyes asked for more. Even with the dim light, you had never seen a man so beautiful in agony. 

You wondered whether he was going to say anything. Silence was a giver of many answers, but the questions you held could only be answered by his lulling whispers. Despite protest, you willed your hands beside you, clutching the sheets, waiting for him to tear your soul in pieces. 

Finally, the Duke of Hastings parted his mouth.

“One word, angel.”

He squeezed your thighs softly. 

“One word, and I will never torment you with my presence again.”

A bated breath escaped you.

It was much too late for that. Hyunjin had already tormented you, had done so ever since your fateful realisation, and you knew he would do so for the rest of your life. It would hardly matter whether he was oceans apart or a hair’s breadth close — him, and everything he represented, was complete and utter affliction.

Such a shame that he was a torment you would sacrifice everything to be around every day. Such a horrible, horrible shame that Hwang Hyunjin was a presence you loved more than you could let on.

Hence was the reason you did not answer him with words. What you wished to say was much too vulnerable.

No, you answered him in actions — replied with your hands raising to clasp his face, leaning down to envelope your lips with his. 

You were surprised to hear a pained moan leave his mouth, and you realised that was the sound of pure, heart-breaking relief. Instantly his hands travelled further as he kissed you back with twice the fervour, hands sliding to grip your waist. Pulling you to him, he erased any distance between you, delving deeper into your mouth. He shuddered at how he went so long without your tongue swirling along with his, like parting from a lost companion.

Fingers sliding to his neck, you welcomed his enthusiasm, his desperation which heightened with every searing touch, every soft bite of his teeth against your lips. He broke away, peppering open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, eliciting the sweetest whining from you. 

“...missed you,” he murmured on your skin, sending chills down your body as he kissed the edges of your dress's neckline. “I...missed you so much.”

“Hyunjin—” you began, wanting to say that you yearned for him, but the words on your tongue faded when his fingers bunched up the skirts of your gown, hitching it higher until the midnight stockings were back in view — he did not stop there, pushing the fabric further till it bunched at your waist, along with the petticoats. His hurried hands pulled down your underthings, sliding them right off your legs, discarding them behind them.

Seeing your cunt glistening in the lamplight nearly broke him.

“I—God,” he breathed out, hands spreading your legs apart. An aching whine escaped you at the action, the cool night air caressing your inner thighs. “Angel, tell me...we do not have to do this.” He glanced up at you, and the madness residing in his eyes infected your soul. 

Maybe madness was the only reason you damned the consequences.

“Don’t you dare stop.”

Hyunjin licked his lips before blessing you with his closure.

The first stripe across your slit set you on fire. 

A soft groan through your mouth at the familiar sensation, the overbearing feeling of being ascended far away from this obscure bedroom. He had always worked wonders, but this time, the languor had faded, desire hardening his tongue against your folds. He pulled on your legs, sending his face further into your cunt, and you yelped at the ferocity of his actions. 

There was no denying it — the man had grown frantic without you.

Swiping in the arousal coating along your slit, a satisfied hum escaped him as he travelled upwards, your seething more encouragement. He struck gold as he found your clit, circling his tongue along the bud, rendering you helpless as you moaned without shame. You cared little if the guests heard you beyond the door, your husband making it too hard to contain yourself.

Perhaps you would have survived his treatment if he did not leave one of his hands upon your leg, trailing up your thigh. He slipped in not one, but two fingers straight inside, and your voice raised an octave — the gradual rhythm of his digits had that overflowing feeling creeping over you all over again. Your grip on his half-ponytail tightened, pleading for him to give you mercy, but the man was relentless, never opting for a break in his devouring.

“Damn it, please—” you grated out, instinctively rolling your hips against his face. The edge of the bed seemed more like the edge of the world. “Wh-whatever you do—”

You did not finish as Hyunjin squeezed your thigh, and you knew then in your dazed mind — a certainty that he understood. 

Within moments his pace quickened, fuelling the spark of nerves which swirled in your gut, threatening to overtake you. Teething your clit softly, then swirling his tongue along, you knew that if he carried on, he would break you on this bed. Something within you felt as if that was his was his very purpose.

Why the thought thrilled you, you would never know.

His rapid fingers and sensual tongue working harmoniously finally got through to you, as, with a whimpering cry, you came all over him, closing your eyes as spots of white stained your mind. You felt his ministrations slow, a small kiss gifted upon your sensitive clit before his lips pulled away. Other hand brushing across your leg, he soothed you from the high you experienced, whispers of his lilting voice perking you from your stupor.

“Hyunjin?” you quietly called, gazing at his lust-struck face. He did not look away as he brought the finger to his lips, sucking away at your residue.

You did not think you could ever get used to this image.

“Yes, angel?” he rasped out, straightening on his knees so his head nearly levelled with yours.

Catching the implications within your eyes, his own widened slightly.

“More?” he let himself wonder, and when you nodded much too desperately, he realised he had done it. 

All he needed was for you to voice it.

“Oh, my sweet little darling,” he whispered, taking one of your gloved hands. Slowly, he slid off the long gloves, repeating the same for the other. “This time, I cannot let you off.

His hands then clasped yours. “This time...I need you to say what you want for me.”

The declaration would have had you closing your legs in embarrassment if your husband was not between them. Not even embarrassment for what he said but...the idea of you wanting to completely oblige it.

Look at you — a few months ago, you possessed not a single inclination of what he suggested; what he asked for, what he so direly wanted you to say. The woman before this one would have rather buried herself under the earth than admit such desire for a man.

The Duke of Hastings, though, brought her out from her underground retreat, and revealed to her all that she was capable of. He showed her what everyone was so afraid to even talk about, and made you addicted to what was forbidden.

A dire shame you wanted Hyunjin to keep you intoxicated for the rest of your life.

You faced him once and for all. Asked him for the one thing which you never thought imaginable.

“Show me...all of it.”

Your hands travelled to his shoulders, keeping him close.

“Show me everything.”

If there was a way to bottle this moment and hang it on the walls of his heart, Hyunjin would have jumped at the chance.

Had he defiled you, after so long? Had he slipped his dirty fantasies into your mind, tainted you with his infatuation?

The answers to his questions were found upon your lips. He collided his own against yours as he gathered you up in his arms, standing up and taking you with him.

Your legs would have given way if we’re not for him keeping his grip — a grip which wandered upwards, catching the little metal hooks of your dress. He thrust his tongue inside your mouth, and the harsh frenzy delighted you, welcoming all of it as you opened for him wider. A shuddered breath escaped you at the hooks being undone by his hands, one by one till you felt your gown loosen.

At the last hook, Hyunjin pulled the sleeves off your arms, and the dress fell to the floor, leaving you with your corset and petticoats. You were caught off guard when he swivelled you around, you feeling the tugs of lace being unravelled with each pull of his fingers. The kisses did not cease, being rewarded at the crook of your neck. Each caress of his lips sent shivers down your spine — more so when he eased off the corset from your body, tugging off your petticoats along with it. 

All that was left was a thin, loose chemise, everything shown clearly beneath the white veil of its fabric. The man turned you to face him again, and his gaze turned molten at the sight that welcomed him. Taking your lips in his, he ripped off his own attire — the long coat, waistcoats, every piece from the waist up being discarded. He had to break away for a moment to take his shirt off, and you caught the sight of his lean figure, turned golden in the light. 

You could not help reaching out, running your curious fingers against his skin, soft and warm beneath your touch. He dared not speak, fearing you would take away your hand, but that was the last thing you wanted to do. 

Tonight, you did not want distance — and neither did he.

Kissing you again, he pulled the lace in front of your chemise, loosening the attire until, with wandering hands, he dropped the last layer you upheld. Slowly, never leaving your lips, he backed you against the bed, holding you steady as he laid you upon the sheets. You never let go of him, aching to take all of him in your mouth, taste his very soul till it was the only thing that remained on your tongue. 

“Fuck—” a curse escaped him as he broke away, catching the swelling of your lips. His gaze trailed downwards, upon your breasts which perked at the sight. “You’re so—so beautiful, I—”

Trails of open-mouthed kisses attacked you after, falling upon your breasts where Hyunjin began swiping his tongue along the nipple. The foreign wave of pleasure had you ripping out the most atrocious moan, caring less if the whole manor were to hear. 

While his tongue played with you, his fingers worked at his trousers, unbuckling his belt as he peeled off the clothing, tossing it to the ever growing pile. You craned your head forward, glancing at the bulge near bursting from his underwear. A quivering sigh escaped you, rendering louder by the quickening of his actions.

Getting rid of his underwear, his cock sprung free, and you were surprised you had not passed out from the mere sight, red and angry and too bloody big. You could not stop staring, hard to believe that a man could possess such...such substantial anatomy.

“Like what you see, angel?” Your husband mused, leaving his place upon your nipple. Flustered, you tried to look away, but it was no use, when the man caught your chin with his fingers. “I’m surprised you can be shy even now.”

That did not help with your situation, causing you to heat drastically beneath his touch. Chuckling, he dropped a little kiss upon your nose before resting his forehead against yours. 

Grasping his cock, he levelled it against your leaking cunt, the head teasing your folds. Even the small action had you seething, the warm residue sending shockwaves across your body. You held onto his neck, fearing you would lose yourself if you dared not hold onto him.

His midnight eyes turned to yours, noses brushing. “This may hurt for a second, ____,” he confessed, voice barely a murmur. “But I promise I will make that second up to you.”

Nodding slightly, you watched only him as his gaze travelled downwards. Fear threatened to take over, but one look at your husband, and it all faded.

With a final prayer to the heavens, Hyunjin began his descent.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his cock slid into your cunt. A heightened whine bubbled up to your throat, and you let it free with each inch that entered, terrified that this man could break you with what he slipped inside you. Your walls tightened with its entrance, and the more you voiced out the more he tended, peppering sweet kisses upon your cheeks.

You did not know how long it was till he stopped, letting you adjust to him inside you. Your eyes threatened to bulge out of their sockets, yet your husband was a huge comfort, circling smooth strokes upon your hip with his thumb, holding your face as he held the universe in his hands.

Breathing deeply, he glanced at you — a nod was your response to his consoling gaze, knowing what he meant.

With that, the duke began to pull out.

He was slow, just as he was when he first entered you. He was gradual, languid, and the terror that haunted you was replaced with a new, different kind of high. 

You had never felt something so pleasurable.

You revealed your surprise to Hyunjin, stare glistening at the foreign sensation — your entire body was up in the clouds, relishing the slow withdrawal and the skill he brought in the bedroom. You were so sure that he was terrified too, scared of ruining this, but all you could feel was pure, unadulterated delight.

When the head reached the beginning of your folds once again, you thought that this was it — there was no more to be done, and your contentment was short-lived.

However, your husband surprised you as he slid inside you once again. 

This time, there was a slight increase of pace, and it kept getting better, your feelings heightening with each passing second as he dipped further into you. He was so unbelievably good, knowing just how to make you whimper — God, his gaze was enough to undo you, ablaze with all the hellfire from the underworld. The devil worked hard, but Hyunjin worked overtime, bottoming out into you once more.

From that point on, your bodies began to move in sync, you giddily moving your hips along with his, aching to have him inside the whole time. Your hands carded through his velvety locks, taking out the ribbons so his hair fell all about him, curtailing his face as he rocked back and forth upon you. By God, he was so exquisite, something straight out of an artist movement, despite the sweat beading down his forehead, despite the parted mouth, the slight panting.

“H-Hyunjin—” you began, interrupted by another sharp moan from his efforts. “Hyunjin, I think I’m close—”

This time, you were interrupted by his lips upon your neck, teething love bites everywhere upon your skin. He hummed against you at your warning, and thrusted his cock into you. The head reached a certain spot which had you seeing seventh heaven, seeing truth and peace and everything in between, because fuck, he knew where to strike.

You did not know how long it had been till you felt yourself dizzying, the feeling in your lower abdomen warning you of its leash snapping. Hyunjin, aware that you were close, only brought his fingers to your clit, prodding at the bud till tears stung your eyes. 

“I...fuck, angel—!” He gasped between thrusts, pressing sloppy kisses upon your lips. “Look at you, all...all messed up from my cock!”

Heightened wailing was your response, broken murmurs being spewed from your lips. Hastily the man shook his head, revelling in your utter ruination.

“Ah—! Come on now!” he cooed in his husky rasp, holding onto your head. “Say it for me, darling.”

A part of you did not think you could manage, but you had to if it meant he would bring you relief. The duke may have been the love of your life, but he was still, undoubtedly, a smug bastard. 

Despite that, you could not believe how easily you resorted to begging. 

“Please, Hyunjin!” You pleaded in half-pants, the tears spilling when he delved into that one particular spot again. “Make me do—whatever the hell I do, damn it!”

Huffing out a small laugh, the man held onto you a little tighter, retaining his grin. “Oh, ____,” he said, and the next words slipped out in his haze of lust, not realising he had revealed something of terrible importance.

After planting another disheveled kiss, he murmured, “You are so lucky that I love you.”

You did not have time for this declaration to settle before your husband obliged you in the best possible way; his thrusting turned erratic, fast and uneven, and the increased pace of his fingers was too much, all at once.

You had no choice but to let out a cry as you spilled onto him — some escaped from your walls and stained the sheets, whimpering breaths keeping you alive. His ministrations slowed as well, fingers stopping at your clit. 

Watching you undo yourself for him was certainly the last straw for him — for the first time he released into you, grunting at the impact. Parts of his orgasm, too, sullied the sheets, but that was the least of his concerns, as he held onto you for dear life, nearly shattering his entire self upon you.

Pulling out of you, he collapsed beside you on the bed, his deep breaths breaking the silence. You, too, panted for a while, gazing up at the dark ceiling. 

You expected your first thought to be utter delight at your first time. You had finally done what no one in polite society ever told you about, and it was so wonderful that you doubt anyone would have shared in your fortune. 

However, your mind was occupied with another matter entirely.

You are lucky that I love you.

You closed your eyes. 

Hyunjin loved you. Hwang Hyunjin, your best friend and husband, loved you when you thought it impossible.

Something within you then wondered if it was too good to be true.

“____?”

Noticing your name, you turned, finding the very man staring at you — in a way which would have your theories proven true. You did not know about yourself, but seeing him before you, black locks disheveled, skin glistening from sweat, you could not deny that anyone would fall for him if they saw him now. 

You tried to push your emotions past you, blinking back a bit of fatigue. “Yes?”

“Tell me what goes on in that mind of yours.” Turning over, he propped his arm, holding his head in his hand. “Are you alright?”

Perhaps you should have opted for a vague yes, but something in you did not want to beat around the bush anymore. You wished to tell him your truth.

“I was wondering about what you said,” you began, reflecting his position. 

“I have said many things, darling,” the man drawled. “What do you specifically mean?”

“Well…” you tried to avoid his gaze, but you knew by now that evading Hyunjin was useless. “Before I...you know…”

“Know what?” He mused, which had you rolling your eyes. 

“You know what I mean!” Sighing, you continued, constantly looking at his features. “Well, just before that, you said something to me...is it true?”

Silence fell on the room as your husband pondered at your question. His eyebrows raised, and you realised that he had figured it out.

“Ah, yes,” he said, nodding. “I know exactly what you speak of.”

You waited for his response, suddenly aware of how naked you were in this bedroom. Dread curled at your stomach, and you debated grabbing the sheets and sneaking out of the manor. 

That is when Hyunjin gave you his answer. Gave it to you as he took your hand in both of his, pinning you with a stare he reserved only for you.

“They are the truest words I have spoken.”

He leaned into you, and your heart fluttered, much more dramatically now because of what he revealed.

A soul-saving smile adorned his lips. “Despite our circumstances, it was inevitable that I would fall, and I thank the heavens that I did. I love you, ____, even if you cannot return the feeling. I love you as the friend I never had.

“I love you because you are the most inspirational woman I have ever had the pleasure to meet.” 

When he finished, you wondered whether you had the words to respond to a confession as heart-wrenching as the one your husband blessed you with. Tears pricked the corners of your vision, and you leaned into his hands which cupped your face.

Brushing his lips against yours, you willingly accepted, giving him all the affection you garnered within you for so long. The tears trailed down your cheeks, and you had to pull away, hands curling at his locks.

“I-I…” you sniffled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hyunjin, I-I love you so much—”

The man’s heart burst from his chest.

His rashness got the better of him, interrupting you with a searing kiss as he sunk his teeth into your bottom lip. 

Never in his lust-hazed mind did he foresee you reciprocating his affection.

He was ready to spend eternity in a one-sided relationship. He was ready to stomach the melancholy you brought if you were to fall for another, or if you simply never loved at all, blankly living your life without any form of affection to give.

But…to have you fall for him. 

What he said to you was wrong.

You were not lucky that he loved you.

He was lucky that you loved him. 

So the Duke of Hastings, pulling the clean sheets upwards, showed you how lucky he was, deepening the kiss and you offering all of you again, moving your lips along with his. 

And in this night, the two of you made another revelation — that perhaps reality was not the villain in the both of yours tales after all. 

THE DAYS AFTER THE BALL WERE NOTHING BUT EUPHORIA.

You wondered whether it was all a dream, with the happiness that followed without any strings attached. 

The passionate endeavours between the two of you did not stop at Seungmin’s manor — hands wandered in the carriage back home, and the moment you stepped at Lansdowne, Hyunjin backed you against the wall and ripped your dress right off, never wanting to stop ravishing you. You did not stop him, did not want to stop him, when you waited so long for him to engulf you without any barriers. By the time you both stopped in the shy hours of dawn, you had been drained of all physical strength, but filled with mental joy.

You fell in love with Hwang Hyunjin, and had the fortune of this love reciprocated. 

Sometimes, you wondered if it was all a dream — a twisted, subliminal illusion, tricking you into believing that marital life is what every writer writes of in the end, the solution filled with flowers and sweet kisses. You never thought, even in your wildest dreams, that you could achieve such bliss with another. 

Then, you would wake up with your husband’s arms around you, and finally understand. Finally comprehend what it meant, to never stray from a soul connected with yours. 

The weeks after also brought the finishing of your novel, your childhood dream all polished in your hands as you took it to the most famous publishers in town. You had fears of the reactions, as what you wrote during certain parts of the novel was borderline scandalous, but the men at the publishing house enjoyed the first few chapters you showed them, and asked for more on the next visit.

You were overjoyed by their reaction, but then doubt entered your mind at once — what if they were only agreeable to your writing because of your position? 

The thought soured your happiness. You did not want to be a writer because of your position in society, but because of your skill. There may have been thousands of other women with talents surpassing yours, but would never be able to achieve even the interest of a publisher. 

Hyunjin was the first to know of your news, and the worries which accompanied it. He listened to you on your second, third visits, scoffing at your disbelief of your turn of events. It was ridiculous in his mind how ardently you doubted yourself, waving off the publishers’ interests in your novel as sheer luck, or your station as the Duchess of Hastings. He assured you many a time, that your flair in creating stories surpassed no man or woman living in London. 

He knew those publishers well — well enough to know that they had never released a novel written by a woman, no matter how influential she may have been. Knowing you had managed to enter consideration for publishing was a feat in itself. The duke had absolutely no doubt that he would see your works in the hands of every person who knew how to read.

What you did not expect, however, was the request from the publishers to have your novel anonymously published. You demanded a reason, and they provided a whole list — women writing was only considered a secondary activity, and if word were to reach the city of a Duchess writing books instead of tending to her family, then it would cause an outrage. You could not believe your ears, despite a small part of you expecting this setback. 

You wanted your name on the book. 

Confiding in your husband once more, you told him of the condition, angrily pacing back and forth in your home. “It is simply...awful!” you spat, locking your hands behind your back, turning the room once more. Hyunjin watched you with a concerned look passing over his features as he looked up from his book. “Why should I hide my identity? I am proud of what I wrote, damn it!”

The man let out a sigh. “I think you should keep the name anonymous.”

That had you pausing. “I beg your pardon?” you demanded, thundering over to him. “Are you saying I conform to their conditions?”

“I am not suggesting it because of their reasoning. I know they are still too ashamed to try publishing a woman’s creation.” 

Closing his book, he set it to the side table. “My love, there is nothing that brings me more joy than seeing you accomplish your dreams. I want more than anything to boast of your mind, and the writings it invents. However,” he continued, “I fear when the public sees your name printed on the novel, a controversial one at that, and see it that they attack you.”

“But that does not matter to me,” you responded, hands on your hips. “In fact, I welcome their criticism! Let me see what poppycock they want to say of my hard work.”

Hyunjin clamped his lips together, trying to hide a smile. “I am happy you do not care for such people, but it would damage your future writings. It would damage your future.”

When you frowned at him, he held out his hands. You closed the distance, settling upon his lap, sliding your arms around his shoulders, while he did the same around your waist. “Tell me, angel, do you wish to write after this?”

“Of course.”

“Well, see it like this,” he began. “Let us say you publish the novel anonymously. It would be in instant circulation, and everyone would read it, no matter who they are. Why? Because your identity is hidden. There would be no bias against you.”

“So?” you asked, and Hyunjin gave you a look. “Okay, okay, continue!”

“As I was saying,” he carried on, “This would not only help you gain an initial audience, but, if you do wish to reveal yourself after that, then it would be perfect. You would have not only shown the public that a woman had written such a brilliant novel, but anyone who would have had previous biases would either conform to reading your writing, or be furious that they had been tricked into reading a woman’s novel.” He then added, smirking, “Which, in my opinion, would be a very amusing situation to witness.” 

You thought over what he said, mind in slight conflict. “In the end, though, it is your choice,” he reassured you. “Whatever you do, you have my undeterred support.”

The little addition had you smiling. “You make valid points,” you admitted, which had the man releasing a chuckle.

“You say that as if I have no intelligence,” he jeered, pulling you closer. “You will be thanking me when all of this goes as I predicted.”

“Don’t push it,” you countered. “We both know you have been proved wrong many times.”

“Hmmm…” he trailed off, leaning in, brushing his lips upon your skin. “At least I know I am right about one thing.”

“Oh?” Your head began to swim as he trailed a few lingering kisses up your neck. “And...and what would that be?”

He did not answer you — only offered an alluring smile before pressing his lips against yours. A soft hum left you as he moved his mouth against yours, slow and languid, teasing his tongue against the seams. 

You would have offered yourself right then and there if he had not broken away, drumming his fingers against your waist. The smile darkened as he gave you his reply.

“You cannot resist me, angel.” 

That, no matter how much it worked against your favour, was an undoubted fact.

After this though, you made your decision to keep anonymous, letting the publishers know of your change of heart. You knew that what Hyunjin said made sense, and, if your novel does receive recognition, then revealing yourself would create a huge statement in London society, positive or not. With this in mind, brought the final edited drafts of your work, and received information of the commissions and percentages taken by the publishing house.

Because the release of your novel was to take some time, you had some freedom with your everyday activities, which were once taken up by the constant editing. The duke, luckily, had begun to employ much more able men in his authority, and so his work was decreased significantly, to the point where he had days to spend with you alone.

During that waiting period, he suggested the two of you retreat to Hemingford, where you both spent your honeymoon. Your smile never left as you jumped at the idea, the man in turn making arrangements for the earliest carriage out of the city. 

Within two days, you were welcomed by the little manor, nestled in the gifts of nature. You found yourself warming to the whole place once more, memories of the past months returning in a flash. Images of the many groves of trees, small network of rivers and a special presence, soothed you in every part you walked through. You nearly forgot how dear Hemingford was to you in the chaos of city life, engulfing its regal, almost mystical atmosphere. A part of you hoped that the book would take forever to be published, so you could never leave the natural retreat Hyunjin’s ancestors had created.

The man himself was glad he opted to take you to the manor — he saw your nerves slowly taking over in London, and knew that the more you stayed in Lansdowne, the more the wait was going to eat you alive. Aware of your attachment towards this place, he made it his personal mission to bring you here, and try to provide you with a little peace. When he caught that certain smile of yours when your eyes fell on the manor and the gardens around it, he felt half his worries melting away in the spring air.

He hated seeing you so unnerved. 

After a few days resting in paradise, the situation was changed for the better. You, breathing in the very earth beneath your feet, observing the trees curved over you like a concerned parent, thought that you could stay here forever. Receiving a letter from the publishers’ of the near completion of copies made only brightened your spirits, and you sighed out into nature.

“Is something the matter?”

Perking up, you saw Hyunjin, who walked over from behind you. 

“Ah...not much,” you said, watching him settle beside you on the bench you sat upon, folding one dark-clad leg over the other. In his hands possessed a book of deep-shaded red, which he held with great care. “Thinking about the letter today.”

“I see.” His eyes wandered down to his fingers. “Actually, I do have something for you, relating to the subject.”

“Oh?” You followed his trail. “Does this book have something to do with it?”

“However did you figure that out?” He drawled, but then he faced you properly, unfolding his leg. “Here.”

You took the possession, eyes on him. “Whose book is it?”

A knowing smile escaped his lips. “Look at the front, angel.”

Curious, you obliged, checking the title. 

You completely stilled. 

Written on the front was the name of your novel. 

“Oh my God,” you got out, holding it with both hands, opening it to the pages. There it all was, inscripted upon the hundreds of pieces of paper.

Your writing.

Your sleepless nights, your labour, your every ounce of strength, tied together by paper and leather and string. 

Rushing, you opened to a random section of the novel, smile widening at the typewriter’s neat, cleaner version of your manic scribbles. The dialogue, the description of each environment — it was there before you, but this time it was not in your head, whirling indefinitely without a place to explain itself.

It was all on paper — in your very hands.

“H-Hyunjin,” you stammered out, not realising your heart was becoming a little too heavy. “Oh my God—where did you get this? Have they—they have begun to sell copies already?”

“Oh Lord,” your husband murmured, hands on your shoulders. “No, no, my love, this was of my own doing.”

When he caught the confused expression upon your aghast face, he explained further. “Before we left for London, I paid a visit to the publishers’, who had started typing up copies of your book. I requested the first copy made be given to me.”

His thumbs began to stroke soothing circles onto your skin. “I know you would have wanted to hold it in your hands before anyone else.”

Heavens above. He truly knew you so well.

You focused back on the book, closing it as you ran your fingers over the leather cover. “I…”

“No need,” he said, giving you an amused grin. “I already know I am the best husband one could ask for.”

He expected his banter to be returned, but you responded to him with a heart-shattering smile.

Holding out the book, you propped it in his hands. “I want you to have it, Hyunjin.”

This time, it was his turn to be confused. “Am I missing the joke here?”

You held his gaze, albeit with much difficulty. “I promised you something once, quite a long time ago. All my firsts are yours.” 

Your hand reached out, brushing against his. “This is my first novel. My most prized possession.” A pause, before holding that state with all your might. “I would want nothing more than for you to keep it.”

The duke used his every ounce of strength not to cry upon the bench. “Well then…” he began, taking the book from you. He turned to the front page, which was blank, save for the title name again, and the written anonymously typed onto its surface. “Well, ____, you must sign it for me!”

A laugh escaped you at that. “An autograph?” You jested, spluttering further when the man brought out his fountain pen, opening the cap. “I suppose with this enthusiasm, I shall throw in a little message.”

Hyunjin slapped a hand to his chest, brows raising in mock surprise. “By God, you spoil me!”

“Give it here!” You retorted, taking the pen and book once more as you found the landing page. 

You pondered for a few minutes on what to write, earning a few hurry ups! and the occasional she does not love me after all, the latter greatly exaggerated. Berating him, you finally thought of the words, arriving straight from the heart. 

Finishing off, you gave the novel back. “Let us see what faux sweetening you have made for me,” he chortled, eyes lowering to the text.

His grin began to fade as he read the message in his mind.

TO THE MAN WHO WAS MY FIRST FRIEND, MY FIRST KISS, AND NOW MY FIRST LOVE.

HERE’S TO MANY MORE FIRSTS WITH YOU. I KNOW THEY WILL ALL LAST. 

I LOVE YOU. 

Hyunjin knew that the sting in his eyes was not the spring breeze.

Slowly, he looked up, catching you staring at him with a smile—loving smile upon your face. A shuddered breath left his lips, unable to form the words.

“Oh no,” you began, jesting despite tears welling up in your own eyes. “It seems the duke believes in my faux sweetening after all.”

A coughed laugh left him at that, trying to clamp his lips together from smiling, but his emotions refused him to suppress himself. His eyes crescented, adding to his near teary grin. Propping the book to the side, he offered his familiar stare, laced with every fibre of affection.

“Come here.”

You jumped at the command, leaning closer as he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you to him. He moulded his lips against yours, and you readily accepted him, offering yourself up entirely for him — as if you were not completely his by your own choice.

The slight madness laced upon his mouth had you whining onto him, taking in the entirety of his affection as you opened up to him. Your request was teased upon with his tongue, sliding along your bottom lip, but the man pulled away, panted breaths fanning your mouth.

He pressed his forehead against yours, fingers holding onto your face as if letting go would cause you to stray. “I…” he let out a deep, trembling breath. “I love you, ____. So much.”

Your heart would never tire of the declaration. “I love you too, Hyunjin.”

And as he claimed your lips once more, you wondered whether you had finally achieved what every work of literature praised in the most elevated of languages. 

Still, at least you knew this — that once there was a duke who you promised all your firsts to, and had somehow found his way into your heart. 

There was once a woman, who refused to believe in love for herself, only for this duke to convince her otherwise, by falling for her completely.

Love stories may be a mere creation of the mind, but at least, at the very least, you knew.

Your love story was real. The first which was not mere fantasy, but real and true and tangible.

You had a feeling that this first, out of all the others you shared with the Duke of Hastings, was going to last.

#stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #hwang hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids oneshot #stray kids #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin oneshot #hwang hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin smut #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #hwang hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin scenarios #stray kids dark hours #hwang hyunjin dark hours #hyunjin dark hours

[actualbird]

zak’s tears of themis masterlist of “works”

IMPORTANT: tumblr wont let me add any more links to this post anymore. apparently this post is “too long”, so this post is now dead!!!

i will now only be updating the gdocs version moving forward from april 19, 2023.

heres the gdrive version of the masterlist: https://docs.google.com/document/d/17zV05iqYmB8E2t2qHApiNSDi-KIbNq2s6rZ-1z8-nPM/edit?usp=sharing

---

☕ and hey, if u like my stuff, consider giving me a tip on ko-fi :D

---

last updated: april 19, 2023

legend: [NEW] r the 5 most recently written stuff in that category. 🐦 emoji r my personal faves. 🐦🐦🐦 emojis are my VERY MUCH LIKED THIS

fanfiction on ao3

🐦 [NEW] A Snake In The Grass?: Marius von Hagen and the Pax Civil War [no ship + speculative tabloid fic that purposefully misenterprets marius in the worst ways possible]

🐦 [NEW] feels like fireworks, feels like light [marius/luke + COMPLETE ONESHOT + fluff and pining and marius rides on luke’s motorbike with him]

🐦 [NEW] always here for oral support! i mean moral support. i mean—fuck. [marius/luke + COMPLETE ONESHOT + comedy smut all about luke’s mouth driving marius insane]

🐦 reviews for Time's Antiquities, South Stellis | Average Rating: 4.8 Stars [marius/luke + COMPLETE ONESHOT + short and silly genfic]

🐦 [NEW] yes, she’s my lover, yes, she’s half-dragon. any more questions? [luke/mc, CHAPTER 2 UPDATE, comedy + fluff au of SSR Looming Nightmare]

[NEW] take me to the limit, hold me down there [luke/mc, COMPLETE ONESHOT, mc pegs luke pwp smut with feels]

🐦 the existence of a top student implies the existence of a bottom student [marius/luke, 3 CHAPTERS COMPLETE, college au where the boys compete to be “top” student and then plot and feels happen, comedy + light angst + smut]

🐦 standard operating procedure (x4 speedrun) [nxx polycule ot5, 6 CHAPTERS COMPLETE, giann tries to shovel talk marius’ 4 partners, humor + light angst]

something of a home [marius/mc, COMPLETE ONESHOT, marius and mc spend the morning after together, fluff]

a certain angle, a certain calm [artem/mc, COMPLETE ONESHOT, artem tells mc about fountain pens, fluff]

an eye for an eye [luke/mc, COMPLETE ONESHOT, mc gets hurt protecting luke, angst]

break it into pieces small enough to understand [no ship, COMPLETE ONESHOT, artem emotionally represses and thats not great for 6.2 ptsd, emotional h/c + character study]

🐦 baby, you’re the man, but i got the power [no ship, COMPLETE ONESHOT, mc works out and the boys swoon hard about it, comedy]

sit, stay, (obey) [marius/luke, COMPLETE ONESHOT, marius and luke do kinky bullshit, + PWP SMUT]

wake me up before you go-go (maybe should've check our respective belongings before though) [marius/luke, COMPLETE ONESHOT, marius and luke wake up late for an nxx meeting, fluff + comedy]

🐦 excuse me, sir, i am this agent's emotional support babysitter [no ship, COMPLETE ONESHOT, aaron helps out a very drunk luke back in luke's early NSB days, comedy + light angst]

🐦 beautiful like a forest fire (admire from a distance, don’t get too close) [marius/luke, COMPLETE ONESHOT, omegaverse au and luke goes into heat, angst + SMUT]

🐦 product testing is important for the d (the d stands for data) (it also stands for dick) [marius/luke, COMPLETE ONESHOT, marius ropes luke in for “product testing”, comedy + SMUT]

🐦 ogling wet men constitutes as revolutionary praxis [gen, COMPLETE ONESHOT, mc pulls a reverse uno card and thus the nxx boys do a sexy car wash + comedy]

🐦 how to care for your dear friend who is currently stuck in his magical serpent form [gen + nxx found fam, WIP CH3 UPDATE, the von hagens are magic dragons and marius gets stuck as a dragon, light angst + comedy + fluff]

and i would walk 1,300 steps (just to be the man to fall down at...the reindeer workshop) [no ship, nxx found fam, COMPLETE ONESHOT, the team are having a great night then they get teleported into the reindeer workshop, comedy + crack kinda treated seriously]

🐦 designed to send mixed signals, one image made up of different pixels [gen, COMPLETE ONESHOT, artem goes to therapy, angst (not really but it’s the closest vibe genre) + character study adjacent]

it's only ever a seed planted from outside in [gen platonic mc & luke, COMPLETE ONESHOT, pre-canon luke’s childhood experience in SSR Shape Of You, angst + character study adjacent]

🐦🐦🐦 how Puppy Pierce© conquered the world [marius/luke, COMPLETE ONESHOT, marius doodles a chibi dog based on luke and then it becomes a popular mascot, comedy]

🐦 we know each other from top to bottom, every secret on every inch of our bodies [luke/mc, COMPLETE TWOSHOT, they go to a banquet for a mission and mc wants to Play. it has to wait tho bc theres danger suddenly, action + SMUT]

🐦 The NXX Investigation Team In Their Natural Habitat, Unhinged: A Documentary by DAVIS [no ship, WIP CHAPTER 3 UPDATE, team gets drunk and DAVIS films it, comedy]

🐦 got james bond as a bodyguard over here, lucky me [marius/luke, WIP CHAPTER 3 UPDATE, luke is marius’ bodyguard, comedy + light angst + action movie bullshit]

🐦🐦🐦 you can run, you can hide, but this email WILL find you! [no ship, COMPLETE ONESHOT, giann asks vyn to tutor marius. then giann goes missing, comedy + light angst + told entire thru emails]

🐦 go the fuck to sleep (and dream a little dream of me) [marius/luke, COMPLETE ONESHOT, marius sleeps everywhere n luke never sleeps, fluff + light comedy]

🐦🐦🐦 making out with your bro for fun and for profit [marius/luke, COMPLETE ONESHOT, comedy + light angst, marius makes out with luke REAL GOOD n then pretends it never happened]

🐦 it’s time for your routine system maintenance [artem/mc, COMPLETE ONESHOT, smut, android!artem has a GREAT TIME] 

🐦 every breath you take, every move you make, peanut will be watching you [nxx polycule, COMPLETE ONESHOT, M rated, comedy, the team deal with luke’s pet bird watching them fuck]

definitely not teenagers anymore [luke/mc, COMPLETE ONESHOT, smut, luke has a school uniform kink, bless his heart]

🐦 but little do we know, the stars welcome him with open arms [luke/mc, COMPLETE ONESHOT, light angst + nice things, luke is trans and mc accepts him easily and wholly. but how can she do this? whats the catch?]

filler episodes of the lost gold [no ship, comedy, WIP, in between scenes of the mysteries of the lost gold event story]

instructions unclear, got my hatred turned into begrudging endearment [no ship, COMPLETE ONESHOT, comedy, marius hates luke but does he really?]

and i feel my past regrets slipping into present tense [luke/mc, COMPLETE ONESHOT, heavy angst, everybody learns about luke’s illness one by one]

🐦 in vino veritas, or something like that... [no ship, COMPLETE ONESHOT, comedy, artem is drunk and luke takes him back to his apartment and they end up bonding]

made that spy gadget a little too well, did you, sherlock? [luke/mc, COMPLETE TWOSHOT, comedy smut, luke hears mc in an intimate moment and Things Happen]

heavy is the chest that wears the— [artem/mc, comedy smut, WIP, artem cant stop thinking about his girlfriend’s boobs]

---

minifics

[NEW] i need luke to have an SR card where hes cringe

🐦 [NEW] luke underpacked during the blizzardous threads of red event

🐦 [NEW] luke has a DAUGHTER!?! (he doesnt)

🐦 [NEW] nxx team at a not-sleepover

🐦 [NEW] luke goes to the bank

🐦 nsfw, vyn/artem. beach episode where vyn is a size queen and artem has a big dick

🐦 artem infodumping about fountain pens as is his divine right

🐦 nsfw. nxx polycule. we love u artem but hes dumb n causes monumental sexual frustration for all involved. bonus marvyn part 2.

🐦 nsfw. artem gets railed in a church (bc 4 horny demons wont leave him alone

🐦 aaron is on vacation so luke needs first aid elsewhere

🐦 the stellis detective fandom ships luke and sphynx

🐦 marius and giann have matching tattoos

🐦 the forbidden backstory of the tot howling pumpkins event

🐦 “what a strange dream” tot alice in wonderland au

🐦 luke is a father

🐦 artem goes to therapy

🐦 luke/mc in high school and luke tries (fails) dating another girl

🐦 marius/luke. marius does a honeypot for a case

🐦 nxx team polycule. how all of them get together

nsfw. nxx team polycule. the team fuck the depressing thoughts outta luke pearce

nsfw. marius/luke, a/b/o au, theyre both alphas

🐦 marius/mc in the morning after

marius/luke and holding hands: part 1. part 2.

luke/mc. what if luke is a knight and mc is the dragon

nsfw. luke/mc. so luke pearce has some kinks...

mc gets hurt protecting luke

additional thoughts on mc getting hurt protecting luke

it’s a wonderful day at the national security bureau and you are a confused new employee terrified of Agent Raven

nsfw. marius/mc/luke rollercoaster of marius making so many bad decisions

the wingman/wingwoman alliance

---

analyses

🐦 [NEW] marius’ sweet chapter stories and secondhand experiences

🐦 [NEW] marius and emotional distancing. + PART 2 marius and vulnerability

[NEW] vyn & giann vs. vyn & marius: similarities, loyalties, differences

🐦 [NEW] SSR Under The Milky Way, luke pearce, and dichotomies that make him a wonderfully contradictory mess of a character and make this love story one i really adore

[NEW] rosa | mc playlist + song choice rationale

🐦 vyn, luke, and opposite methods resulting in a similar consequence

nxx boys eng name etymologies

🐦 some thoughts about artem, the value of work and duty, and emotional neglect

🐦🐦🐦 “The Journal of NXX Investigation Team Behavioral Studies” | a compilation of fan analyses on the ToT characters within the NXX Investigation Team.

tears of themis and memory

🐦 vyn & artem analysis about being the Perfect Person but having different methods to pursue that

🐦 what would have to happen for marius to punch the other nxx boys + scene snippets

🐦 nxx boys in ur intro to philosophy class: part 1. part 2.

🐦 marius von hagen’s inferiority complex

nxx investigation team, biological family, found family

🐦 marius has always been in giann’s shadow

🐦 all the nxx boys and “bad things”

marius von hagen: facade vs. sincerity, harsh truths vs. persisting hope.

🐦 luke pearce uses love as an excuse sometimes

vyn richter and control: a character THEORY

the difference between artem and luke’s stubborness

okay this isnt technically analysis YET im working on my real marius analysis but it’s not done YET so have this edit where im very emotional about “not what i meant” by dodie being THE marius von hagen song

luke pearce: on the burden of memory and the concept of “better if it never happened at all”

luke pearce: an enneagram type 2 with a twist

the difference between artem and luke’s self flagellation

headcanons

[NEW] nxx team ranked on how good they are at answering their phone

[NEW] marius/luke and petnames

🐦 [NEW] marius should be bad at driving cuz it’s funny

[NEW] SSR Dark Ripple couldve been funnier

🐦 [NEW] luke is banned from several stellis arcades

cervitaur!artem’s chilldhod

mc takes vyn’s jeep

🐦 additional hcs about my one fic where mc gets buff

🐦 nxx team in the academia rambles

🐦 hypothetical fights i want to see between the tot cast 

🐦 what if luke wrote fanfic

🐦 marius gets interviewed while playing with sleepy kittens

festive games 2play with him? more like festive ways 2bully luke

the couches in marius’ office Suck

🐦 i dont think luke and mc have normal boundaries with each other

🐦 peanut gives luke some father’s day gifts <3

nsfw. nxx team and sex toys

🐦 i feel bad making mc drink energy drinks, heres more AP restoring items i want

vyn/artem “old married couple”

🐦 nxx team and their organizational apps/methods of choice

luke is doing resin crafts in sott

how do the nxx boys google 

🐦 vyn/artem has been plaguing my brain, heres some THOUGHTS

rambles about relatively old tot promo materials cuz theyre gold

🐦 hey, who made the NXX logo?

giann is good at music, marius isnt, and then i get emotional

🐦 the nxx boys as songs that i think encapsulate how they first felt once they realized theyve fallen in love

🐦 vyn/artem. vyn Won’t Say (He’s In Love)

IS VYN NEIGHBORS WITH ARTEM’S PARENTS??

themeless assorted bag of hcs for the nxx boys

marius doesnt get chemistry

🐦 the nxx boys and their preferred (shitty) presentation method

does vyn richter wear shoes in households???

luke's contact names for the rest of the nxx and the grp chat

🐦 peanut is luke's ESA

a prediction on artem’s upcoming vday texts

🐦 luke did postgrad while in the NSB

🐦 vyn is lying about being a stellis citizen and visa expires

🐦 vyn sucks at driving 

🐦 SHOW ME LUKE’S MOTORBIKE, heres 2 options i want for it

when and how each of the nxx team first drank alcohol

🐦each nxx boy is Not Like The Other Kids in elementary-middle school for diff reasons

who is most supportive of mc’s crusade against vikya pigeons?

🐦 marius/luke and their bedrooms

🐦 which of the nxx boys can haggle?

🐦 an embarrassing childhood story for each of the nxx boys. bonus vyn part 2.

marius the only extrovert

🐦 nsfw. deepthroat debate

marius makes luke a lego peanut sculpture

🐦 nsfw. vyn writes bad smut

mc’s contact name for marius

🐦 i think artem should be a bitch in german

nxx team as knives

nxx boys as questionable things i did in high school and college

🐦 the nxx boys’ bday gifts to luke!!!

🐦 these r related oki: vyn’s waist is snatched. nxx teams’ exercise and diet

n/s//f///w vyn richter is submissive and breedable

🐦 vyn is a horse girl and may be approaching relationships like how he approaches horses

artem/luke dynamics and lovey dovey headcanons

assorted marius/luke ideas spanning from silly to SILLIER

i love the page twins in SSR Peaceful Place, i want more past characters to meet luke’s current friends

luke pearce has read homestuck

nxx boys’ fave movie genres (and how it’s like watching movies with them)

🐦 can the nxx boys grow facial hair? if yes, what style?

🐦 the nxx boys draw a dog

nxx boys’ texting styles and behaviors (aka vyn why r u like this)

🐦  nxx boys’ skin.....care routines

🐦 artem is colorblind, cry about it

can the nxx boys dance?: part 1. part 2.

🐦 marius finds musicians hot and he cant play instruments

when the team gives marius a piece of art

nsfw. nxx boys after sex

nxx boys on social media: part 1 tiktok. part 2 vyn on twitter. 

🐦 my takes on nxx investigation team sexualities

 random stuff and habits of the nxx boys

marius von hagen gender: part 1. part 2. part 3 with mc

there was only one bed and the entire nxx investigation team: part 1. part 2.

marius/luke try (and fail) to matchmake vyn/artem

what are my thoughts on vyn/artem? 

🐦 DAVIS is sentient and becomes mc’s bestie: part 1. part 2.

nsfw. artem/mc/marius and artem is great at threesomes

luke HATES formal wear HE HATES IT

🐦 marius/[insert nxx team member] tabloid articles

aaron is great but what the fuck?

marius/luke general ship dynamic hcs: part 1. part 2

nsfw. assorted artem wing spice hcs

the nxx crew go to an actually haunted house

artem wing, oblivious heartbreaker: college edition

what medias were the nxx boys watching growing up?

the nxx crew get a therapy cactus

luke pearce is trans because i trans and i kin him

🐦 the NXX boys capture a villain: part 1. part 2. part 3.

luke is TERRIFYING and it ISNT FUNNY ANYMORE

NXX team typing habits

how artem is when hes sick lol

luke is pretty scary and i think it's hilarious

nsfw. luke/mc and girllll u got a thing for uniforms huh

vyn why is ur codename like that

what makes the NXX Investigation Team laugh

luke’s cooking and food habits

additional thoughts on luke’s food habits

luke + the love language of oranges

additional thoughts on luke + the love language of oranges

the NXX boys and art appreciation

nsfw. luke pearce is not a sex god buuuuut

HAHA, LUKE PEARCE IS A GAMER!!! oh no, luke pearce is a gamer...

additional thoughts on gamer luke

the NXX boys financial situations

NXX roomba causes some people to realize things

luke/mc/artem boogaloo where luke panics about being bi

AUs

🐦 [NEW] tot pokemon au

🐦 [NEW] tot wingfic au part 1. part 2.

[NEW] i am imagining dragons: part 1

🐦 [NEW] marius/luke high school au

🐦 [NEW] nsfw. marius is an incubus and we're all horny about it: part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4

nxx team as genshin characters: part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4.

🐦 luke pearce is a werewolf awoooo: part 1. part 2 nsfw. part 3.

NXX crew as animal crossing villagers: part 1

dark!luke au: part 1.

NXX boys get turned into cats: part 1. part 2.

NXX crew but as an NSB agent team: part 1

misc enthusiasm kajsbfkj

🐦 [NEW] rating luke cards based solely on how handsome peanut is

[NEW] mayday! unintentional nxx friendship occurring! 

🐦 [NEW] luke is Just Some Guy

[NEW] marius’ “amazing day”

🐦 [NEW] Appreciate The Stuff In Luke’s Apartment That Are For Peanut

🐦 Appreciate Peanut

vyn is The pretty boy

whAT is artem WEARING for 2nd anniv beach outfit

what are vyn and artem WEARING for 1st anniv

🐦 my thoughts on that one thing austin said in marius ps 4

my thoughts on luke ps 4

petpet luke

top 3 hottest things luke did in perso story 3

theyre in a jeep!! in the khaimit desert! marius is going to die

CHIBI LUKE IN RAVEN MODE

luke in every lounge gifset

🐦 saga of making fun of the sott exploration buffs: luke’s bombs. vyn’s brain. artem’s interdimensional pockets.

🐦 my top 5 luke cards

🐦 Artem’s Milk: a review

luke pearce is writing in his diary

luke pearce has a canon sample of handwriting and im gonna pick it apart

🐦 tot lore iceberg meme

🐦 nsfw. my unholy nxx polycule sex hierarchy dynamics hc

🐦 nxx scooby doo gang looking SO GOOD

mc’s dresses are gorgeous and i talk about them for 1.7k words

🐦 how it felt like seeing luke go agent raven mode for the first time

MARIUS WHAT IS THAT ON UR ANKLE

marius and a poem about a cat

🐦 luke bday2 ssr spoilers. luke is drunk and so puppy

🐦 luke bday2 ssr: one. two. three. four. five IMPORTANT KICK. six. seven. eight. nine BOND GIRL MC. ten why is luke LIKE THIS.

🐦 ARTEM’S MEATBALLS

🐦 my dream tot eng va cast

🐦 meowrius von nyah-gen

giann von hagen is going to be SO HOT

i hate luke pearce

🐦 marius von hagen best quality: his wiggles

luke pearce is CHOPPING some WOOD?

a day with...

the Lays Chips collaboration

dj vyn richter????

shitposts and memes

horse girl kiki bennet

 do not separate them

 luke is rlly sorry for burdening u aaron :(

 the nxx boys’ mom situations

🐦 luke and artem have similar problems

 marius are you okay???

🐦 about vyn’s svartish name...

 lord, grant vyn patience

🐦 marius/luke relationship announcement

 marius/luke proposal

🐦  nsfw-ish vyn text post memes but about his Manner Of Speaking

🐦 marius/luke. they dressed fancy for their date

dangerous to go alone...take this

goodmornings from the nxx group chat

how does cervitaur!artem wear pants?

LUKE’S HAAAAAATTTT!!!

assorted vyn text post memes

marius opening up

nsfw-ish. marius/luke. sometimes home is a person...

🐦 marius speaking to a beautiful woman

🐦 nsfw-ish. marius/luke wow ur playing elden ring?

🐦 marius “knife-magnet” von hagen

i love boardgame mini events

🐦 aaron puts up with a LOT from luke

🐦 artem’s soup intrigues vyn

vyn and marius’ tutoring sessions

🐦 marius: trauma? pshhh

luke meant what he said

vyn concedes that artem is right

nxx boys + that one hilarious article about heterosexual female desire

🐦 luke/mc. luke is doing the dishes

baldr legal professionalism

artist problems with marius

🐦 nsfw. i want that twink (luke) obliterated

marius: lol guess what

marius: hey can i call u?

mc and artem in ace attorney

🐦 luke is my comfort character

hot take about marius and luke

nsfw. luke stan moods

🐦 establish dominance in th convo w vyn

SR Vibrant Graffiti

marius: WAAAA!

marius in main story 2

🐦 want beautiful hair like vyn?

🐦 luke multitasks

🐦 austin von hagen is weird

extreme density

marius coping mechanisms

pigeon pokemon battle ft. peanut

🐦 the team needs a distraction

🐦 nxx investigation polycule

🐦 can luke find marius?

🐦 nsfw. marius/luke dynamic

artem where u looking at?

vyn does not have mental illness

marius is playing the long con

happy vday from the boys <3

austin von hagen is a Cool Dad

🐦 aaron yishmir’s business card

🐦 let’s give it up for the side characters!

🐦 it’s LUKE’S FAULT 

luke is making a sandwich

EDM vyn my beloved

mc asking the hard hitting questions

what marius needed to hear

artem’s mom can make him follow orders cuz...

🐦luke is just a little guy! oh uh, wait...

if youre dating vyn...

🐦 artem is multifaceted

third base for vyn richter is...

marius says “hey, nerd!”

🐦artem tells marius about his childhood

marius is the boy who cried wolf

vyn goes bowling

🐦 mc wants a man like this

artem fishing is hot as fuck

the Vyn Nyan-agram (venn diagram)

in skadi, marius takes a selfie with mc and

🐦 mc’s thoughts on pathetic men

tot themed mutuals ask meme!

🐦 we could fix zangr but...

🐦 nxx boys + nsfw text memes

vyn’s private twitter account

marius and giann’s lunches get swapped

marius needs help with math

🐦 better luck next time, artem!!

luke is a spoonful of sugar

vyn tells the boys about the concept of traumatic events

🐦 artem wing: bringer of headpats

marius has made a mistake

mc messaging luke vs mc messaging marius

🐦 vyn "helping” luke realize hes bi

luke and vyn’s dating app profiles and theyre roommates

🐦 marius: hey, mc! nice tits!

marius’ personality gives off cancer vibes

🐦 nsfw. luke fucks HARD hard...

artem falls asleep

gamer alignment chart

teenager artem has a fake ID

luke is mad at marius

🐦 luke “mansplain” pearce

🐦 luke and marius r tired

🐦 happy birthday luke! heres ur cake!

artem has NFTs

take a break from hating everyone to...

🐦 people who like marluke

🐦 why artem is always winning against baldr legal

marius is making morgan’s life hell

🐦 vyn is scary good at video games

every nxx investigation team should include...

🐦 marius asks artem for permission

🐦 luke is teaching vyn to be nicer

marius falls down the stairs

the nice and naughty dog of the week

🐦 dont leave luke and marius unattended

🐦 marius/luke when your hands are bisexual

artem wants you to drink water

luke/mc and luke is making breakfast for his beautiful wife

🐦 marius is the most jealous man

marius/artem having a lover’s quarrel in the groupchat

marius is a grad student

artem: youre epic

🐦 nsfw. the saddest people...

luke is like “wtf people tell their crushes they like them?”

artem is playing basketball

nxx boys + the onion headlines

asshole of the year

marius is mc's hottest frie---

artem will kill marius one day

celestine will kill artem one day

when the class war is happening...

🐦 luke and vyn get locked out of the NXX building

artem was NOT that drunk last night

art and edits

[NEW] harpy!luke head feathers...

[NEW] woe, meme-y marius/luke gifs be upon ye

🐦 [NEW] tot drawing meme!!

[NEW] tot + carly rae jepsen songs edit

[NEW] luke/mc + a softer world edit

🐦 nsfw implied marius/luke edit hehehe

🐦 VERY NSFW marius/luke edit

🐦 marius/luke happy anniv!! edit

caught a tiny detective

steal her fit + skadi edition

nsfw, marius/luke. wow had a nice 2nd anniv?

🐦🐦🐦 “don’t worry you will” luke/mc video edit

NXX Investigation Team ID mockup

Stellis University mock materials

nxx pride <3!!

fanart for “Oh, Captain, Deal” by galena

fanart for “a picture is worth a thousand words (but a video is worth more, roll clip!)” by sam

🐦 marius/luke date <3

mushroom card luke outfit....

marius/luke. cat bf and dog bf

🐦 marius/luke. marius tests out pet names

🐦 tot fake products: Adjudicator Tea Tree Facial Cleanser

🐦 tot fake products: Raven Honey Lemon Tea

im never not over high school mc and luke

misc doodles

mc and luke, childhood friends!

luke and mc doodles, listen, i love doodling luke okay

🐦 marius/luke edit, they went on a date

luke doodles

🐦 mc | rosa photo edit

🐦 mc is arguing with pigeons

🐦 luke photo edit

🐦 ive edited a marius/luke image

little baby children luke and mc

high school luke and mc

happy 25th birthday luke!! also im crying, shut up

🐦 all the art i drew for “how Puppy Pierce© conquered the world”

fanart for sure_galena’s genderbend nxx au fic

🐦 miss tot mc rosa are u free friday night?

how the FUCK do you guys draw marius???

mc, luke, and marius go to the beach

🐦 marius/luke marius is a needy and clingy and thats okay

how the FUCK do you guys draw luke????

marius is a cat-maid! but i dont think thats safe

marius/luke holding hands

rosa

puppy luke, kitty marius, bunny mc

bonk ur marius today

fic recs

part 1: mixed bag of fics

part 2: nsfw smut smut smut

part 3: wips im following enthusiastically

part 4: nsfw vyn obliteration

part 5: fics with godly character understanding

others

[NEW] spotify playlist: marius von hagen in the limelight issues

🐦 [NEW] spotify playlist: vyn richter

🐦 [NEW] spotify playlist: marius/mc/luke ot3

🐦 [NEW] spotify playlist: luke pearce’s NSB trauma

spotify playlist: nxx team as found family

daily luke plush

spotify playlist: luke pearce

spotify playlist: artem wing

🐦 spotify playlist: marius von hagen

---

tot asks/request rules

i am open to tot asks/requests but please read above link about rules first

#i left soooome stuff out bc they didnt have enough Content TM in them or whatever #tears of themis #masterlist #uhhh this post is a mess actually I TOTALLY 4GOT ABOUT CHRONOLOGY UHHH. WELP. TOO LATE. im very stupid can you tell?

[khaleesiofalicante]

LBAF - Deleted Scene #1

Here you go, you heathens. 

This scene happens a few weeks after Max and David start dating. 

David walked up the stairs, carrying the magazines in one hand and a box of donuts in the other. There was a little skip in his step, he noticed. He was excited to see his boyfriend. It felt weird to call Max that. 

Boyfriend. 

David giggled to himself and hoped no one saw that. 

Also, the Consul wasn’t home apparently. So, that was nice.

Once he made it into the apartment, he gave Max the box of donuts and a kiss on the lips.

“Double glazed,” Max made an appreciative noise as he shoved one into his mouth. “David, you really know how to make a man moan.”

David’s cheeks reddened. Someone cleared their throat.

“Ahem.”

David turned around and almost dropped the magazines. He whirled around and glared – or did his best impression of it – at Max.

“You said he wasn’t home!”

“You wouldn’t have come if I had told you he was home,” Max shrugged.

“Max!” David groaned.

“Are you wearing my sweater?” the Consul demanded incredulously.

David looked down at the pale blue oversized sweater and then looked at Max. By the Angel!

“I didn’t know!” he said quickly. “Max was wearing it last week and then he left it in my room and-”

“He left it in your room?”

“Relax, dad!” Max rolled his eyes. “I just spilled some sauce on it. We didn’t even do anything that day!”

“So, you’ve been doing things on other days then???” the Consul inquired.

David was contemplating whether he should jump out of the window and run back to the institute when the high warlock walked out of the bedroom, tying an orange robe around him.

“David is here!” the man in orange said cheerfully. “Wonderful! Just in time for breakfast!”

“Oh, I don’t have to stay,” David said quickly.

“You heard him,” the Consul repeated. “He doesn’t have to stay.”

“Alexander, hush!” the warlock said and kissed the Consul on the cheek. The Consul shut up and went to the kitchen to make coffee.

David wished he could make portals too so he could get out of here. It’s not that he didn’t like the Lightwood-Banes. He loved them in fact.

But their energy was too much for him sometimes.

He felt something rub against his leg and looked down. He picked up the cat with one hand gave him a kiss.

“Bonjour, mon cheri,” David whispered at the cat.

The little creature purred in his palm and tried to sneak inside his sweater.

“You know, David. I was worried about Max dating at first,” the high warlock said, pouring himself some tea. “But now my heart can rest easy. Chairman Meow is an excellent judge of character.”

“Yeah, if Chairman likes you then it means you are simply amazing,” Max smiled as the cat ran up to the warlock boy.

“Chairman likes anyone who feeds him tuna,” the Consul mumbled. “He is just a cat.”

“Dad!” Max covered the cat’s ears.

The high warlock gasped. “Alec Lightwood! You take that back!”

“You know I was worried about Max dating too,” Rafael said.

“Awww,” Max cooed.

“I mean I was worried about the person you were dating,” Rafael pointed out.

“Eat ichor,” Max flipped him off.

“Rafael,” David said and held out the magazines. “Here you go.”

The older boy, who was sitting on the dining table and staring at his laptop, looked up. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked utterly tired.

He took the magazines from David and glanced through them.

“David,” the boy said emotionally. “You are my emotional support bro.”

Rafael was studying for his finals. David had promised to help him out with some of the resources he needed.

“Hey!” Max complained. “That’s not cool. I got you cookies from Levain last night!”

Levain was one of the most famous bakeries in New York. Max had taken David there one day as a surprise so he could meet the head chef and learn his recipe for their infamous chocolate chip walnut cookie.

David didn’t know what Max had to do to pull that off, but he was sure there were some bribes – or possible threats – involved.

“You summoned them by snapping your fingers,” Rafael corrected now. “And you didn’t even pay for them!”

“Max!” the older warlock gasped. “How could you?”

“That’s right!” the Consul didn’t look pleased. “We are disappointed with you, Max.”

“You ordered from Levain when I wasn’t home?” the high warlock sounded hurt.

“Okay, we are disappointed about different things apparently,” the Consul rolled his eyes. “Max, you are not supposed to summon things without paying for them.”

“Because it’s unethical?” Max asked, eating his breakfast with no sign of remorse.

“And because it’s illegal,” the Consul corrected. “It’s not okay to steal!”

“But Levain is a big brand!” Max complained. “It’s okay to steal from the rich, dad!”

“We are the rich!” the Consul replied incredulously.

“Dad is right. You are basically contributing to the monopolization of resources by the 1%,” Rafael explained, tapping one of his massive textbooks.

“Nobody asked you, Rafe!” Max groaned, mouthful of cereal. “Show off!”

“No more stealing things,” the Consul said – in his Consul Voice. “Not even from the rich.”

“Not even cookies?” Max pouted.

“I can make you cookies, Max,” David interjected carefully.

“Aww,” the warlock cooed. “There you go, my little robin hood. Problem solved.”

“Guess I’ll take down capitalism in another century,” Max rolled his eyes.

David smiled at that. Max was going to do great many things during his long, long life. David wished he could see them all.

“What’s that then?” the Consul asked from the kitchen, pointing at the stack of magazines.

“Porn magazines,” Max snickered.

“What!?!” the Consul choked on his coffee and glared at David.

“By the angel, Max!” David groaned and then looked at the Consul. “There are just regular magazines and journals, sir.”

“I asked him to find stuff for me from the New York Library,” Rafael mercifully explained. “They are references for my final essay.”

“Why do they ask you to use references anyway?” the high warlock demanded, eating a piece of fruit.

“It’s to validate the claims, Magnus,” the Consul pointed out, sitting down next to him.

“My son doesn’t need to validate anything,” the older warlock huffed. “They should just take his word for it.”

“Oh, Bapak!” Rafael sighed dramatically. “How I wish you were a professor at Columbia.”

“It’s a nice place actually,” the high warlock hummed appreciatively.

“You’re just saying that because literally every one of Rafael’s friends flirted with you when we went for that parents event,” the Consul grumbled.

“They weren’t flirting, Alexander,” the warlock corrected. “They were just giving me compliments.”

The Consul rolled his eyes at that.

Max picked up one of the magazines and flipped through it. “Dad, did you really think these were porn magazines?”

“No, I didn't!”

“Nobody even reads porn magazines anymore,” Max pointed out and then giggled. “Oh my god, is that what you used during your time?”

The Consul went red in the face. “During my time??”

“That’s very presumptuous, blueberry,” the high warlock shook his head. “Pornography is not just for young people!”

David was just quietly standing there and taking in all the banter. He wondered if breakfast in their apartment was colourful like this every single day.

“Well, young people don’t read magazines,” Max huffed. “We use the internet like normal people!”

“We??” the Consul demanded. “You watch porn?”

“Everyone watches porn,” Rafael pointed out, eyes on his books.

“Yeah even David watches porn!” Max grinned.

“Excuse me?” the Consul said.

“I don’t!” David almost yelled. “I don’t even know what that is!”

“You don’t know what porn is?” the Consul asked suspiciously.

“I mean, I do know,” David said - no, blabbered. “But just like the normal stuff. No weird stuff!”

“What exactly do you mean by weird stuff, David?” Rafael giggled.

David was sweating now. The window wasn't that high, right? He could just jump out and run off. 

“That’s enough,” the high warlock said. “There will be no kink shaming under my roof!”

“Yeah, just because I looked up tentacle porn does not mean I am a weirdo,” Max pointed out, glaring at Rafael.”

“Tentacle porn?” the Consul blanched.

“It looked very tricky to be honest,” Max sighed. “Not my thing.”

“It’s not that tricky,” the high warlock said, putting jam on his toast. “The key is to-”

“Okay, we are done here,” the Consul clapped his hands.

Max picked up the box of donuts and took David’s hand. “Cool. We are going to my room.”

“Door open!” the Consul yelled after them.

#what even was this ejhfksjhfsj #but they are such cutooooooes #lightwood bane family #david beauchamp #lbaf #my writing

[deniigi]

I love the fic you showed on Luke, Han, Chewie being kidnapped by the trio- I would love to see more! Is there a chance we might see that fic or sections of it? I hope you are having a great day!

You may see more sections of it! It’s like 30k because I have zero self control sometimes, so idk if I will post the whole thing, but snippets I can do!

I wrote a fuckin’ hilarious bit where Han tells Paz that Luke’s got a crush on Din. Paz thinks about Din’s sexuality for .05 seconds and immediately has an anxiety attack that Din feels like he’s got to hide his queerness.

He brings it up with Din, who promptly astral projects in embarrassment.

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

This was a reconnaissance mission now. One which Luke was again having fun on. With Djarin refusing to speak to his comrade, Luke wriggled right into the place he’d left behind and started agitating again. He goaded Djarin and Fett that he could shave hours off the current course time. Han and Chewie hung back and strategically did not back up a damn thing he said.

Paz, uncomfortable to be on any ship that was not his own, clutched at his fingers and watched Luke chasing Djarin like an underfoot puppy in concern.

“What does he want from Din?” he asked Han and Chewie quietly.

Han blinked slowly.

“He’s got a crush,” he said.

Paz’s helmet managed to blanch.

“You’re kidding,” he said.

“Yeah, your boy’s ticking every one of Luke’s boxes, I’m afraid,” Han said while Chewie snickered. “He’s already decided on a destination wedding.”

Paz rubbed a few knuckles under the edge of his helmet and looked away.

“I dunno if the Armorer’s gonna be cool with that,” he said.

Han snorted.

“Armor isn’t strong enough for him, he’s got mind powers,” he said.

Paz’s helmet turned slightly back towards him.

“The Armorer is Din’s parent,” he said. “She leads the teachings at our covert.”

AHA. Orthodox. Han had it now. Djarin was a preacher’s son.

“I don’t know what that means,” Paz said.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” Han told him sympathetically. “It’s okay, though. People are more tolerant than you think.”

“I still don’t know what that means,” Paz repeated.

“You will,” Han soothed, “You will.”

--

 It was an hour before Paz blurted out, “Wait you mean he’s gay?” and Han almost cried, he was laughing so hard.

--

 This was supposed to be a hostage situation, but Paz was making this trip a pleasure cruise. He’d gotten about fourteen thousand times more awkward around both Luke and Djarin anytime they passed by. Luke had caught onto this with interest.

Han did nothing to stop him. He and Chewie finally had entertainment after hours and hours of torture.

Paz inched away.

“I’m happy for you,” he told Luke. “It’s fine.”

Luke cocked his head at him and got closer.

“No, man. Not me, sorry,” Paz said. “You got—you got Din. He’s—well, honestly the last I saw him he was like, fifteen and sort of scrawny, but you know he’s probably grown a couple muscles by now.”

Luke lit up.

“I know, he picked me up,” he said.

Paz vibrated.

“Mm-hm,” he said.

“Do you think he likes me?” Luke asked him.

Paz vibrated so hard his armor nearly started knocking against itself.

“He’s really into ancient Tusken shit,” he said. “Ask him about ancient Tusken shit.”

Luke’s eyes couldn’t get any wider or rounder. Any more of this and his pupils would start dilating, too.

“Copy that,” he said, then vanished.

Chewie whimpered and wiped tears from his eyes. Han leaned into his side and grinned so wide his face hurt.

--

 Luke took to flattening himself against the cockpit door and serenading Djarin in the other side with pleas for information about Ancient Tusken culture. Djarin was understandable baffled. He smelled a rat and refused to be forthcoming with any new knowledge.

That made Luke caterwaul louder until Fett had enough of him and locked Djarin out of the cockpit too, with instructions to ‘silence the Jedi before I do permanently.’

Djarin was now stuck out here with the rest of them. He crouched in front of Luke and they had a staring contest for a good two minutes before Djarin got up and sighed.

“You have so much energy,” he said. “No wonder Grogu likes you.”

Luke rocketed up to stand next to him proudly.

“I don’t sleep most nights,” he said.

Djarin studied him.

“I see that,” he said.

“Han and Leia say that I’m a ‘hostile’ bedpartner when I do,” Luke said with finger quotes for Djarin’s benefit.

Djarin, Han swore, was trying to think of a polite way to say, ‘Sir, I think you’re at breaking point.’ But instead he said, ‘do you like tea?’ to which Luke said, ‘absolutely not.’ Djarin told him that he had a great tea for him to try and was thereafter followed into the Falcon’s kitchenette around the corner.

Paz, in the meantime, was absolutely shitting himself. No longer able to avoid this conversation with Djarin.

“I think it’s cute,” Han goaded with Chewie nudging his ribs the whole time.

“The Armorer will not approve,” Paz insisted.

--

 Djarin had done the impossible: he’d put Luke to sleep. He delicately removed the mug of (possible sleep medication) tea from Luke’s unconscious deathgrip and asked Han where the used dishware went. That was thoughtful. Han told him to just stick it any damn place around the sink and he or Chewie would get to it.

He did and then came back to settle in next to Paz. Paz visibly experienced a rainbow of emotions. Djarin didn’t notice a single one of them. Instead, he crossed his legs and held the orange tips of one hand in the orange tips of the other.

“I wanted to apologize, Paz,” he said. “After what you’ve sacrificed for me and the kid, I should have been more grateful.”

“D—don’t mention it,” Paz stammered. “It’s—it’s the Way.”

“It is the Way,” Djarin agreed. “I think I was afraid of how to face all of you afterwards.”

Han could hear Paz’s internal scream from here.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll bet you, uh, did. It—it wasn’t the first time, was it?”

Djarin sat up a little straighter.

“No. How did you know?” he asked.

Paz shivered.

“Just a feeling,” he said. “You know, uh. Din. You don’t have to be ashamed of anything, right? You’re—you’re like my little brother. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you or anyone say anything to you. Okay?”

Awwwwwwwww.

Djarin looked up into Paz’s visor.

“Are you sick?” he asked.

“What? No. I’m. I’m saying, that if you ever had something you wanted to tell me, or you know, any of us. We’re always here to listen,” Paz said. “And to support you.”

Djarin’s silver helmet tilted worriedly.

“I already did,” he said.

“GREAT,” Paz said. “Perfect. You’re doing amazing.”

Djarin pulled back, officially disturbed.

“Right,” he said slowly. “So I’m gonna—”

“Listen, kid,” Paz said, grabbing the strap between Djarin’s chest and back plates and dragging him back down to sitting. “Think about your parent.” He took Djarin’s hand from where he was actively trying to escape and held it in a firm, masculine grip. “She loves you, you know that.”

“Paz, I’m panicking,” Djarin said outloud.

“And she was so happy for you to have a foundling,” Paz carried on like plough. “So she’s gonna be happy for you, no matter what.”

Djarin could not pull his hand out of Paz’s grip, and boy was he trying. He’d started a cool descent to the floor, he was trying so hard.

“I know,” he grated out.

“But a jedi, Din?”

“He can’t help it, man,” Djarin said, still struggling almost on his back now. “You said it yourself. It’s a born-with-it thing.”

Paz stared forcefully at his knuckles.

“You’re right,” he said, letting out a slow breath. “But if that’s how it gonna be, you really should propose first.”

Djarin’s helmet somehow managed to emote ‘shock’ on the ground there.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked. “I barely knew her.”

“Her?” Paz asked, then caught himself. “Sorry, sorry. Not my business—”

“It was like, a week at most—”

“Not my business.”

“And yeah, she had a great kid and—”

“Wait, wait, hold up,” Paz said. “Who are you talking about?”

Djarin stared.

“My friend? From Sorgen?” he said. “Who are you talking about?”

Paz went very still.

“You’re fuckin’ some gal on Sorgen?” he asked.

“No?” Djarin said. “I mean. She wanted to, and I thought about it, but it was only a week, and I didn’t want her to feel like I’d used her only for—who are you talking about?”

“The jedi,” Paz said, pointing at Luke’s languid, curled up self on the table’s bench.

“Why would I be fucking the jedi?” Djarin asked. “He’s my son’s teacher, Paz.”

“Because he’s crushing on you?” Paz asked, equally upset and confused. “And you’re gay, so?”

“I’m what?”

“Gay????”

“I am??”

Han was crying. Han was sobbing.

These idiots were days of comedy. Look at them go. Look at ‘em spin.

“Din, please. You don’t have to fake it. I support you—”

“I didn’t ask for your support?”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of—”

“I’m not ashamed.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m picking up some strong feelings. And I don’t want you to think that—”

“Paz, what I want more than anything for you to do right now is to stop thinking. I’m not gay.”

Paz pressed a hand against his helmet like he was in physical pain.

“But the way you always looked at Teyo,” he said.

Djarin had a tiny stroke and slammed his fist into Paz’s arm.

“DON’T MENTION—”

“What the FUCK, brat?”

“HOW DARE YOU—”

“Why’re you yellin’ at me now??”

“Why’re you bringing up some childhood shit, haven’t we done enough of that already?”

“Why’re you so mad? I’m tryin’ to be supportive. If you wanna fuck the Jedi, fuck the Jedi. I’m just sayin’ maybe don’t tell the Armorer until after you’ve done it, so she doesn’t think you’re under some kinda mind-trick or somethin’, alright?”

Han no longer needed those helmets. He had these characters down. Djarin was gaping now. In shock and offense.

“Never speak to me again,” he decided.

“Bro,” Paz said.

“NO.”

“Karkin’ hell, Din. What’s your problem?”

“Excuse me, I must drown, where are your facilities?” Djarin asked Han directly.

“Round the corner, on the left,” Han told him.

“No, no, no,” Paz said, grabbing Djarin by the cape and dragging him back. “We gotta talk about this. We gotta process.”

“I’m not processing shit with you,” Djarin said. “I am not fucking the jedi.”

“But you want to,” Paz deduced.

“I—what? Wh—do you want me to have relations with him? Did I miss something?” Djarin asked.

“I want you to feel supported,” Paz said.

“I don’t. I feel targeted,” Djarin said. “Stop targeting me.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop.”

“Good. Let go.”

“But if—”

“Paz, I’m going to behead myself.”

“If you do want to have sex with the jedi, later. That’s fine. Or anyone else. That’s fine, too.”

“BOBA.��

Behold. A breaking point.

--

#fic #paz vizsla #din djarin #the mandalorian #I literally just want to write Din and Paz fighting and being secretly protective of each other 24/7 #idk if that's been made clear yet #do you think I'm being too subtle? #ficlet

[kylorengarbagedump]

Little Bird: Chapter 18 (NSFW)

Read on AO3. Part 17 here. Part 19 here.

Summary: You're concussed. You didn't really think anyone would care.

Words: 4100

Warnings: Handmaid AU

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: Hello! I did the thing again where I was like, oh, this chapter is not gonna have ANY smut in it. And then I wrote it and, y'know, Kylo Ren just... does things to me, y'all.

Does this count as fluff? It can get fluffier, I know, but like. For the universe, and all that.

Thank you so much for your feedback and encouragement! I love y'all so very much! See you soon. <3

The Audi screeched as it rolled into Kylo Ren’s driveway. The rim was almost certainly scrap by now, the way he’d ripped through the roads. You’d spent the entire ride coiled to the door frame--despite the reality of your destination, it was a relief for the car to finally cease moving. He engaged the emergency brake, turned the keys.

“Out.” 

Ren exited the vehicle, and you followed, stumbling onto the concrete. You still felt dizzy from colliding with the dashboard. As you thought it, a brief reverie--the car, the light, Poe’s head--pop--your vision fizzed, and you crumpled against the car, temples pounding. Pain split your skull, and you groaned, kneading your forehead, trying to ease the shrieking in your ears. For the four-hundredth time since you’d left the Resistance house, you were nauseous.

Except this time, you vomited, heaving nothing but stomach acid onto the window of Ren’s car. 

“Hm.” His presence was murky, like mud in your mind. “You hit your head in the crash.”

You wanted to respond, but couldn’t, mouth somehow made of marbles. Instead, you tried to move, but fumbled--mid-fall, you flailed and grabbed the side mirror for stability. Despite this, your limbs were like rubber, bowing, sending you straight toward the ground. A large, strong hand hooked under your arm, hoisting you to your feet, where you wobbled, unsteady.

“You have a concussion.” He guided you forward, and you retched, trying to push him off. “Come inside.”

“Just… hold on a second.” You weren’t ready to move so fast. The world felt like it was underwater. 

Ren urged you along another step, and you winced, collapsing into him and rolling toward the ground again. In one swift movement, he slipped one arm behind your knees, the other supporting your shoulders. Your head spun--you were in far too much pain to acknowledge the gesture, sight still too blurry to even fully comprehend what was happening. His face, to your muddled memory, was stoic--if there had been emotion behind his decision to carry you, it didn’t show. He regarded you with all of the affection that one might regard a paper bag.

Clutching you to his chest, he opened the doors to his home, his heels loud clacks on the hardwood floor. The halls remained dark as he passed through, a fact you were entirely okay with, as you were certain the introduction of any light would slice your head open with its edge. You allowed your eyes to close, your body rocking with his movement, mind attempting to map your location in the house under the strain. One hard step, another--he’d begun to ascend the stairs, but your map must have been in error. They were the stairs to his bedroom hallway, not yours. 

“Sir, is that you?” Johana’s voice, sharp with worry, pierced your ears. The noise of footsteps. “Where have you--oh.” 

There was a pause. Ren stopped. You dangled in his arms. 

“What are…” She paused, and then tried again, softer. “What’s going on?”

“I’m retrieving my property.”

A creak of hardwood. “You… Why is she… You’re bringing her upstairs, Sir?”

Silent, he started to climb again, the movement making you groan. 

“Wait, please--”

“Move.”

“Can you just explain what--”

“No,” he replied. “Move.”

There was a lull of silence--you had a desire to peep open a lid, glimpse Johana’s face, construct a visual memory of the tension weighing between them. Even through the air, you could feel the anxiety whipping like a corona off her skin, could sense her restraint, a straitjacket shackling her to obsequiousness. 

“You shouldn’t have brought her here, Sir,” she said. “The Eyes could have her slated for re-education.”

“There’s been no order for that.” 

“No order?” she whispered. “Did you… Did you abandon your duty to go after a Handmaid?” 

“That’s irrelevant.” He went to step again, and stalled in response to a wooden creak.

“We should at least dress her in--”

“Johana.” His voice was a cleaver. “Move.”

 “You can’t bring her into our bedroom,” she spat, trembling tone hiding a plea. “I don’t care about the Eyes, or if you left, or any of that. Just. Please. Not. Where we sleep.”

Silence again--and then: “She has a concussion.”

A long, slow breath. A sigh. “Fine.”

Finally, you heard a shift, and he pushed past the last few steps and through the hall. Johana, with feather feet, followed. Ren shouldered open a door--to his bedroom, you gathered--the low glow in the room like a blinding flash to your hidden eyes. You grumbled again, squirming in his grip, and after a short walk, he laid you on the bed. The moment your head connected with the pillow, you seethed, rolling over, shielding your face from intruding light.

“How do you know she had a concussion?” 

Ren was crossing, unhooking something. You heard a clatter across the room.

“Why do you have your gun--”

“She was in a car accident,” he said. “She can’t stand.”

“Sir,” Johana sighed, “are you going to at least tell me what happened so I know what to say if the Eyes--”

“It’s none of your concern.” He bit the words off between his teeth. “I will take care of it.”

She grumbled--you felt fingers at your shoulder, rolling you to your back. You whined, burying your head in your hands, but Johana wrenched them down with experienced grace, tacking them to your sides. At the sight of your face, she gasped.

“Is that blood?” When Ren was silent, she said again, “Is that blood on her face?” She released you, and you peeled your lids open, squinting even from the dim yellow ambiance. Johana had spun on Ren, who stood, a gargoyle of indifference. “What the hell did you do?”

“Quiet.” 

“I swear to Christ, if she is pregnant--”

“Enough.”

“--and if you ruined my chances of being a mother, Kylo, I--”

“Johana,” he hissed. “Remember your place.”

She stalled, stepping back, her blue nightgown a plume around her legs. “Yes, sir, Commander.” Scowling, she stomped back over to you, meeting your eyes with a flash of rage. “Sit up.”

Nodding, you pushed up on your palms, wincing as your head throbbed. Nausea washed over you again. The bed swirled under your frame--you sucked in a deep breath through your nostrils, quelling the tsunami of vomit that wanted to burble up and spew all over your Commander’s Wife. Thankfully, once your back was against the pillow, you were able to fully open your lids. Johana’s thumb was on your wrist, checking your pulse, face screwed in concentration. In the corner of the room, Ren was seated, shoulders flared like the wings of a raptor, a gaze just as keen.

Glancing at your eyes, she turned to the nightstand, rummaging through it. “Where’s the flashlight?” she asked. And, after a moment, “Nevermind. Found it.”

She clicked it on, two fingers prying open your lids as she shined the flash directly into your pupils. You whinged, seething, trying to shove her off, but she snatched your wrists and strapped them down with her strength, flicking the light back and forth from your eyes, scrutinizing your response. After a moment, the pain simmered, washed away. 

“Her pupils are normal.” Johana turned the flashlight off, returning it to the nightstand before staring back at you. “What nation do we live in?”

“The… Republic of Gilead?” you replied, raising a brow.

“And what year is it?”

“Nineteen… eighty-five…”

“What role do you serve in this home?” Her tone grew more severe.

You blinked, scanning her, wanting to inch away. “I’m… I’m a Handmaid.”

“And what is your name?”

A shiver crawled up your spine as you remembered the rasp of Kylo Ren’s voice in your ear, the tears at your neck, the weight of his body and the thick stretch of his cock, slamming into you, demanding your submission. Your gaze flickered to his. The depth of it--like a pit that threatened to swallow you--gnawed at your stomach.

“Ofkylo,” you murmured, and met her eyes again.

Johana studied you, a slow breath escaping her, before she turned to Ren, voice flat. “She’s oriented. No dilation.” A slight shrug as she glanced at you from over her shoulder. “She should be fine.” 

Ren shifted, head tilting. “She could still vomit in her sleep. She couldn’t walk.”

She sighed again. “What are you asking me, Sir?”

“She shouldn’t fall asleep.”

Johana threw her hands up, crossing to her dresser. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, she’s fine,” she mumbled. “I was a nurse, not a doctor.”

The admission made your stomach flip. A nurse.

Ren stood, long strides bringing him to the side of the bed. Warmth and terror eked through you in equal measure, body tingling for his touch, brain shriveling at the thought of it. His eyes lingered on your figure, appraising it, before traveling to meet your own. Within his irises, there was a fog--a nameless, formless ache, suffocating in the depth of his denial. You could see it, feel it as it coasted across your skin, scattering like shadow as he stared--and you hated it, hated the flutter it brought to your heart, hated the fire it stoked in your veins. It was that asinine desire to know, even as you had already decided that your knowledge of him was complete. 

In secret, a single finger drew a soft line down your calf, and you shuddered. “She will stay here tonight.”

Balking, Johana whirled to face her husband. “What--” She cleared her throat. “Um, excuse me, Sir?”

It was a surprise to you, too--you stared at him, brow furrowed, but his expression was inscrutable, like he’d put on a mask.

“She could choke. Fall into a coma. She requires observation.”

“I’ve already told you that I think she’s fine.”

You nodded, sitting up. Anything to get you out of pissing off Johana. “I actually feel totally fine--”

Ren held up a finger, silencing you, his attention still on his Wife. “You don’t know that to be true.”

Her jaw stiffened. She crossed her arms. “You’re not putting out your Wife so you can watch over a Handmaid,” she said. “That’s… the impropriety--”

“At what point did I order you to leave?” 

She blinked, jaw dropping. A choked laugh broke from her throat, her head shaking. “You… You expect me to share our bed with a Handmaid?” she asked. “Have you--I mean…” She drew in a steadying breath. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sir.”

You nodded, swinging your feet toward the floor, ignoring the rush of pain when you moved. “You know, I don’t really want to stay here, either--”

Ren caught your legs as you tried to kick them off the bed, suspending them in air. “No.” He tossed you back as if you were made of cotton, looked to Johana. “You may sleep here or in any of the other bedrooms in this home. It’s immaterial to me.”

Johana stood, staring, her mouth parted, hand falling over her heart. You could almost see it--the silent disintegration of her reality, like a building crumbling in on its own framework, shattered pieces pulverized into rings of dust. Her eyes glossed, cheeks reddened, and she cleared her throat again, swallowing. A sickened smile flashed over her face; she blinked it away.

“If that’s how you feel, Sir, then please, feel free to share our bed with your little whore. You know where to find me, if you need me.” She threw open the closet, grabbing a robe and tugging it on. “But I know you won’t.” With a flourish, she left, slamming the door behind her.

Guilt sank like venom into your bones, twisted your intestines. You glared at Ren. “You’re cruel.”

He cocked a brow, unbuttoning the cuffs on his shirt. “She should be concerned with your survival, given the possibility of pregnancy.” He glanced at your face and paused. After a moment, he turned, heading into the bathroom.

“She loves you, you know,” you called after him. 

No response. You sighed, sinking onto the bed, head plopping back onto the pillow, gazing into the gauzy lavender canopy, tracing its network of soft wrinkles with your eyes. It was true that your head felt like a cantaloupe that someone had smashed with a mallet, and it was also true that the thought of walking currently made bile bubble in your esophagus--but despite all of this, the thought of staying in Kylo Ren’s room with him all night made your chest tight. 

The memory of Poe’s head bursting with cherry blood was a circular film in your mind, reeling on repeat, as if someone was rewinding the tape and pressing play over and over and over. The fact that Ren had murdered him without a breath brought a chill to your toes, to your stomach. The fact that even after that, you’d begged in unfortunate honesty for his cock froze you entirely. Poe’s new adage--There are no saints in Gilead--did little to assuage your shame. Just because sainthood was unachievable didn’t mean you were supposed to drown in sin. 

Who could be considered more reprehensible--the devil? Or the one who had witnessed him shed his humanity, spring forward as a full-formed monstrosity--and still chose to kneel at his feet? At least one was by nature. You weren’t sure what your problem was.

Ren entered the room again, a white towel draped over his hand. You eyed him with suspicion as he approached--Was this all a plan to kill you?--but before you could sputter a protest, he sat at the side of the bed and wedged his hand under your head, cradling it with ease. 

Silent, he guided the warm, damp cloth over your face, tracing it across your forehead, gentle along your hairline. You felt the crust of blood and sweat on your skin drifting clean, the heat of the towel soothing the thumping of your temples. Air failed to enter your lungs, a tremor of something only identifiable as affection tunnelling through you. In his gaze, you saw no evidence of the man who had pinned you to the pavement, pistol to your chin--he was open, a wound without a bandage. 

“I don’t understand why you killed him,” you said, the words leaving before you’d had a chance to think them.

Ren blinked, soft, dark lashes shielding his eyes. “I don’t understand why you left.” The towel caressed your jaw, his long fingers tilting your head as if you were made of porcelain. 

You snuffed a laugh. “Are you… serious?”

For the first time in minutes, he leveled you with his stare. “Yes.”

“How… do you not understand?” you said. “This is hell. You’ve created hell for me.” You bit your lip, choosing your words carefully. “You’ve created hell for all of us.”

He considered you, motionless. “You’re not happy here.”

Snorting, you wondered how many times you’d have to say it for him to actually listen. “Commander--are you?”

Ren paused, holding the towel to your cheek, his gaze fixated on yours. Those full, pink lips twitched with something nameless, the mellow lights casting a mahogany shimmer over the dark waves of his hair. You laid there, locked with him, trading a feeling too dangerous to articulate in the absence of your breathing. Heat dripped into your face--too much heat for the towel to be responsible. He focused on your mouth, rubbed it clean, and offered another blink, almost meandering in its speed.

“Smuggling a Handmaid is punishable by death,” he said. “For Guardians, public execution.” He scrubbed at your chin, swooping along the perimeter of your face.

You grimaced. “So you killed him out of the kindness of your heart?”

“No.” The towel glided under your eyes. “I killed him because he took you.” He dabbed at your neck, your pulse a drum underneath his fingertips. “But his death was inevitable--by me or otherwise.” Leaning back, he examined you, seeking out any other stains. Apparently satisfied, he lowered your head to the mattress and stood, returning to the bathroom.

You sighed, embers crackling in the ash of your flesh. You’d asked to understand--and now you had. For some reason, it didn’t make you feel any less guilty. In fact, it only made you feel worse as you imagined Finn and Rey finding out the mission had gone haywire, that Poe had met his inevitability. All because of you. All your fault. More tears welled, and you shook them away. You were tired of crying. 

After a moment, Ren exited the bathroom carrying clothing. His shirt was untucked, a pair of black drawstring trousers hanging at his waist. Your eyes stuck to him like flypaper, gawking while he crossed the room, his fingers popping open his shirt buttons, revealing inch by inch his thick, powerful torso. A wad of saliva lodged in your throat, breath stuck behind it. He tossed his clothes in a wicker basket, shucking his shirt into it, muscles in his back rippling as he rolled his shoulders. You devoured him, a wolf starved for his vulnerability. 

He turned, approaching you in silence--it was impossible not to notice every movement of his body, how it tensed with his footsteps, how the veins in his hands rooted in his arms, how the breadth of his chest appeared so, so deliciously solid. The light almost disguised the white scars spread across his skin, phantoms of the revolution still haunting his flesh. A wave of fire crashed over you at the realization. He was dangerous--a weapon of a man. And he had just tenderly cleaned your face.

You finally remembered to breathe and swallow when he hovered over you. Was he going to try and fuck you in the throes of a concussion?

“Uh, excuse me, sir.” You tried in vain to tear yourself from his beauty.

“Sit up.” 

Despite his order, his hands were at your back and shoulder, pulling you forward. Ren turned you, sliding in behind you, his legs framing yours, your back flush to his chest. He curled an arm around your waist, tugging you tight to his body, his heat enveloping you. In silence, he gathered your hair, folded it over your shoulder, smoothing the strays over your scalp. Having finished that, he lifted the Bible from his nightstand and flipped it open, his head nestling next to yours as he began to read. You fought for breath, mind whirling from either the concussion or from stupor. How was this the same man who, only hours ago, had his gun shoved in your cunt?

You wanted to feel disgust, horror--you were his possession, after all. But his touch was too gentle to signify ownership. It was the touch of a human, a touch you’d only known men to give to women they cherished--a touch you hadn’t known in years.

“What… are you doing, Commander?” It was the only question that could crawl its way out. 

“Observing you.” Velvet rolled from his mouth to your ear. “Until you can walk, it’s not safe for you to sleep.”

“But Johana…”

“Johana would risk your safety to spite me,” he said. “I want you alive.”

You almost laughed. “Is that why you shot into the car that you knew I was in?”

A pause, and his chest fell in a sigh. “You were never my target.” 

“You could’ve missed, Commander.”

“I didn’t,” he said. “And I don’t.” The darkness in his tone sent ice through your spine. Another pause. “Use my name.”

You blushed, choking on your own spit. “I’m sorry?”

“When we’re alone,” he murmured. “Use my name.”

The motive of his observation clarified in your mind. Ren had wanted Johana, and you, and his own self to believe his intentions were practical. So far, he’d managed to fool only himself--and maybe not even then. He dipped his face to the slope of your neck, drawing in a long, deep breath through his nostrils. Goosebumps swelled across you--in an automatic reaction, you melted against him, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Kylo…”

“Yes, little bird?” he whispered over your skin.

You sighed. “I hate you…”

He nuzzled his nose along your pulse. “You hate me?” he asked. “You are me.”

“What?” You frowned.

“You want to resist…” A hand rested on your hip, bunching fabric as it curled to a fist. “There’s something here that makes us both betray what we believe in.”

You shook your head. “No,” you said, “because what I believe is right, and what you believe is wrong.”

“Inconsequential.” His lips skated your heartbeat, and you caught a sigh in your chest. “When we both believe we’re right.”

You squirmed, feeling his growing desire at your backside. A pang of lust knocked between your legs, and you gripped his thighs, feeling them harden under your palms. “I know I’m right.”

“Of course.” He tossed the Bible to the side, mouth pressing soft, lingering kisses to your exposed throat. “And I know you’re getting wet for me, right now.”

A shudder rattled you, and you chewed a whine before it escaped. “Kylo…”

Kylo Ren growled, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and slipping his hand into the open flap. You whimpered, your head throbbing with the surge of delight hitting your nerves--he shushed you, his thick fingers gliding across your mound. 

“I want to make you cum again,” he purred, kissing your jaw. “I want to hear you say my name as you clench around my fingers.”

Longing roared inside of you, searing your insides. “My head hurts,” you replied, even while your cunt pulsed with need.

“I’ll be gentle, little bird.” His other hand threaded through your hair, nudging your face toward his, and he captured your lips in a hot, tender kiss. “Now be good for me.”

Ren slid a digit across your already stiff clit, his chest rolling with excited breath as he teased it with a quick swirl. You gasped, legs spreading wider, your nails biting his thighs, and he huffed, tracing quick, tight circles around it, the pad of his finger supplying shocks of friction. Pleasure flooded you, muscles collapsing as you succumbed to it--Ren kissed you again, holding you there, tongue delving into your mouth while he rubbed your swollen nub faster. Two more fingers coated themselves in your slick and pushed inside you.

You moaned into him, and he jerked you harder to his body, tongue massaging yours while his plush lips worked over your mouth. His hand continued to cup your head as he kissed you, as if to meld you with his frame, as if to brand you in his memory, and his fingers pumped into you, one digit flicking and circling your clit. Air was passed in hot gusts between your nostrils, your bodies grinding together in a futile attempt to fuse. He was deft--your climax approaching fast, his hands pulling it from you faster than they had your dignity.

“That’s it, little bird,” he groaned against you. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

Nodding, you fussed, trying to meet his lips again, missing the heavy comfort of his kiss. Your walls clenched his fingers, the beat of bliss thrumming to your head, every new thump of your heart cracking your skull. A sob of pain was silenced by another peak of pleasure over your flesh, your pussy squeezing him faster, yanked to the edge by the stretch of his digits plunging into you, his finger battering your nub.

“Let me hear you.”

“Kylo,” you breathed, gripping his thighs as if they’d anchor you to sanity, “oh, fuck, Kylo…”

“That’s right,” he muttered, “that’s right…”

You splintered, ecstasy burning through you, and as you came, Ren’s lips crashed into yours, swallowing your desperate wails of pleasure, his body solid while your limbs twitched. He was a rock, a sanctuary where you could come undone, finger rubbing until you squealed with discomfort, continuing to kiss you, softer, gentler, until the last tatters of your climax dissipated from your skin.

Wilting into him, your lids fluttered shut, lungs heaving while your heart searched for its rhythm. Ren kissed you again, then pulled his hand from your cunt and popped his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean with a quiet moan. Once finished, he zipped up your jeans, re-buttoned them, and propped you up, positioning you flat along his chest once more. His length still throbbed at your back--but if he noticed, he said nothing. 

You sighed, ignoring the echo of pain at the perimeter of your skull, waiting for the oxytocin to leave your blood. “I hate you, Kylo.”

He stroked your hair, flipping it over your shoulder for the second time. “I know.” He returned to his Bible, thumbing it open to 1 Corinthians, and you spied a verse circled in pretty black ink.

Flee from sexual immorality. All other sins a person commits are outside the body, but whoever sins sexually, sins against their own body. 

The rest of the night, he was silent, nudging you only when you would drift toward sleep, vigilant until the sun crested into the sky.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo trash #little bird #handmaid au #fanfiction problems #just a quick little fingerbang yknow

[umccall71]

Chapter 22

Characters: Prince Liam and MC Lady Sexy

Rating:Mature content includes profanity, sexual content,talks about depression.

Word Count:3885

Disclaimer:All characters are property of Pixelberry except my OC Lady Saige. The use of these characters are for entertainment only and i am only borrowing them.

Summary:After a summer of a lifetime,Prince Liam thought he could have it all.He was carefree, free,, and sharing time with the woman of his dreams.When life was easy, a balancing act between love and duty, he realizes his truths are lies, wrong is right, and decisions do have consequences. Lady Saige never imagined she would be one of his consequences.When an utter act horror throws her world into a tailspin.

Warning: This series contains subject matter of depression and hopelessness.The story may trigger certain individuals. Please be advised. If your reading this series you are acknowledging you are 18+.

A/N:Sorry for the long delay.Things have been hectic in my life for a bit chaotic.I had to take some time to focus on my health. I feel horrible that it’s been so long.Thanks for your understanding and support for those still interested in this story.

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@eadanga @ao719 @carabethpow @lauradowning29 @elles-choices @hopefulmoonobject @indiacater @3pawandme @blackcoffee @simsvetements @wughhumans @drakesensworld @romanticatheart-posts @fantasy-of-fiction @choices97 @gibbles82 @furiousherringoperatortoad @marietrinmimi @whenyourheartskipsabeat @kuladekiwi @custaroonie @smalltalk88 @jovialyouthmusic @sashatrr @jared2612 @the-soot-sprite @ownworldresident @silverofdreams @rainbowsinthestorm @silviasutton1989 @lodberg @kingliam2019 @dcbbw

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It had been 48 hours since the decision had been made to go public about the nightmare and tragedy that had changed the very core of their life together. Liam had Bastien coordinate with the office for Ana De Luca to get the interview scheduled. This was going to be such an exposed moment for her, for them. The monarchy had a history of concealing the not so sunny facets from the people. The faces of the crown only showed that which would be received well by the Cordonian citizens. It was rare that any bad news was willingly shared, especially such a heinous crime against the crown by the crown. Liam made sure to check in repeatedly with Saige if she was certain that she would want to move forward with the interview. He made sure that Miss DeLuca understood that his Queen had the final say in whether she wanted to broadcast the interview, or how much got shared.

“Bastien, is everything prepared in the gazebo for the interview?”, Liam inquired.

“Your majesty, Miss DeLuca is aware that her majesty has the final call on what topics will be covered during the interview. She has also signed a non-disclosure agreement. There will be minimal members of the press present during the interview to assure that Queen Saige is completely at ease.”

Liam nodded, clapped Bastien on the shoulder and thanked him, “Bastien, it means a great deal to myself and Saige for all of your support during these last several months. There are a few trusted people we would turn to in these dark days. “

Bastien simply nodded and excused himself to complete the task at hand. “Sir, I will notify you when she arrives.” He turned on his heel after bowing to his monarch.

Liam adjusted his three-piece steel-gray suit as he made his way down the corridor from the study to the master suite to meet Saige to escort her to the gazebo.

“There will be better days”, she chanted quietly to herself in front of her mirror. Saige was doing her best to hold it together as she finished dressing for her interview.

Liam held onto the door jam as he watched her lovingly and determined to see her through this journey He watched as Saige tied the sash of her pale pink maxi dress that cascaded around her baby bump. She slid on the wedge heels and dabbed a little lip gloss on her supple lips. He interrupted her thought, “it’s really hard to make perfection any better.”

Saige smiled at her handsome husband that stood admiring her from the door. Liam moves closer to her and came to stand behind her in the mirror. He nuzzled her neck and gently kissed her cheek. “I’ll do my best not to mess up your make up, although you don’t really need it. Your beautiful as you are my love. “

Liam’s hands cupped her belly feeling his little love fluttering slightly. “I will never cease to be amazed at this feeling”, his blue eyes flashed brightly at the overwhelming feeling of love.

“Liam, is it time to go yet ?”, she asked barely audible. Saige shook her hands trying to release the slight tension from the bundle of nerve building in her body. Saige knew that once her story was shared that she may face some backlash from supporters of the former king. Here she was a virtual stranger in this country coming forward to reveal the atrocities exposed against her. All she wanted was to love Liam and hopefully love this child with fierce protectiveness. She recounted the night she and Liam made love and she professed her desire to start a family with him. He was a guiding force in these trying times. She had spent most of her life depending on herself or her dad. He was gone and she never had the forethought to think about a future that included a family of her own.

Liam turned her face and gently kissed her lips. “Saige, you have nothing to fear from telling the truth. I’m right beside you.”, he traced his thumb along her porcelain skin. “We are a team that cannot be taken for granted. I love you… I love our child… and I love the future we have to look forward to sharing.” He pulled her close to his chest, sending his warmth and safety through his embrace.

“Let’s go…you are going to make the country love you just as much as I do… if that’s possible.”Liam took Saige by the hand and led her out of the doors of the estate down to the gazebo.

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The Interview

Ana DeLuca: Ladies and gentlemen, I am joined today at the beautiful duchy Valtoria by King Liam and Queen Saige of Cordonia. The royals have allowed us a glimpse into what it’s been like for them over the last few months. Yes… we have wondered why the silence from the royal family, but soon we will learn some answers.

“Thank you both for allowing me into your home and a peek into your lives. So what has it been like for the two of you since the passing of the former king?”

Liam grasped Saige’s hand reassuringly and locked blue eyes as they composed themselves to answer.

King Liam: Thank you for having us Ms.DeLuca. It’s been quite a transition for our family in the last several months. My father… taking his life was surprisingly cowardice. He took his life to keep from facing his own crimes. He left behind more questions than answers. There were things that my father has been believed to have done throughout his reign here in Cordonia, but his recent actions have torn a hole in the fabric of our lives. The story we share is not so much of mine...as it is my queen’s.”

He turned slightly and placed a tender kiss on Saige's temple. He whispered softly to her, “love, the decision is yours as to how much is shared today. I love you and I am proud of you.”

Saige nodded and smiled softly, but it was clear to anyone that saw her that she was nervous and unsure. She gazed into Liam’s loving eyes and took a deep breath. She drew strength from him at that moment and every moment since her attack. Ana noticed her reluctance and smiled to the queen mouthing, “it’s okay.”

Ana DeLuca: “So Your majesty, I understand that there has been a lot of change in your life in recent months. Can you share with the Cordonian people a little about that?”

Queen Saige: “Ms. DeLuca, thank you for allowing us to speak to the citizens of Cordonia through your voice. This country has become my home. Meeting Liam has been the greatest joy of my life until… until we learned that we were expecting. Liam has been a godsend for me in these trying times.”

The blonde reporter seemed a bit puzzled by her response. Most people would be elated to have a new child on the way. Her eyes darted back and forth between the royal couple trying to decide how much to divulge to the public. Saige smoothed the fabric of her dress unknowingly. She tried to keep her emotions in check as she opened her personal pandora’s box. Saige anticipated the whispers and snide remark when her truth was revealed. King Constantine...who would believe the beloved former king had violated her? She glanced at Liam and allowed her truth to flow.

Queen Saige: “Getting married, and starting a family would be an extraordinary gift, but our path was fraught. I came to Cordonia as part of a summer trip to spend time with my best friend from college… Duchess Olivia, but back then she just Liv to me. She convinced me to spend some time in her beautiful home country and it was one of the best decisions I ever made.” She smiled and gently stroked Liam’s hand. “We came to spend an afternoon with some of her friends at a quiet get together, and it was there I met Liam...Prince Liam, only I hadn’t learned of his title just yet. We spent time together just talking and sharing some laughs. I was charmed by him immediately, but he was so down to earth. It was so amazingly easy to open up to him.”

Ana DeLuca: “ So are you saying you fell for each other instantly?” Ana leaned forward , she had become engrossed in their story. She smiled and looked between the two entranced.

King Liam: “ For me it certainly was… she's beautiful, charming, witty, compassionate, caring, intelligent… what’s not to love about her?” He smirked and lifted her hand to place a chaste kiss to her knuckles.

Queen Saige: “There was certainly a connection right away. Liam is a hard man to get out of your head. He spent the next several days trying to convince me to go out with him. He had dozens of flower bouquets sent every hour from sun up to sun down to Olivia’s estate. Finally, when the last arrangement had taken over her home, it was delivered with a note with his phone number asking me to call him.” Saige giggled reminiscing about the first time she allowed him into her heart. “I contemplated shortly and ended up calling him and we made plans for a first date. He took me to a lovely greek restaurant that we were shared alone. I had no idea that he emptied the place out so that we would have some privacy. It was that night I finally learned that he a prince.”

Liam's eyes were staring adoringly at her lips, and he was so in love… that much was evident to anyone. The way he would brush a stray tendril of her auburn locks out her face, the way he would grasp her hand and not let go, the smile that never left his face as they recounted their love story.

Queen Saige: “After that night we spent every free minute together that was allowed. We had late-night phone calls and it was the happiest I had been in a really long time. Then he did me the honor of inviting me to a ball at the palace. He surprised me with a beautiful gown and it was a night to remember, until it quickly turned into a night I couldn't forget.” Her facial expression became sullen, panic-stricken when she thought back to the night she first encountered the former king. “ That night’s events drive me from the palace and … and from Cordonia never being quite the same.”

Liam squeezed her hand and took over as she collected her thoughts. He knew this dark period caused her to shut down with everyone… including him.

King Liam: “ Little did I know that a short time later , Saige would disappear from my life. It had been months since she left without a word or forwarding address that I finally laid eyes on her again. It broke my heart to learn why she left, but I was grateful to be able to share with her what I truly felt...love... I loved her and had to make certain she knew.”

Liam seemed wistful as he thought of that tumultuous time. “After we both shared a tender reunion and I learned the truth, I realized I did not want to lose her again … so I proposed.”

The two of them happily smiled at the memory. “We married a short time later in Texas and again when we landed in Cordonia surrounded by a few family and close friends.”

Ana DeLuca: “So no one knew you two were married?”

King Liam: “ There were a few people that knew but respected our decision to make our announcement to the public. When the decision of my brother to step down was shared and it was known that I would be next in line for the crown and Saige agreed that we would be okay if I ascended to the throne, I had no choice but to go public being my father was pushing for a social season, but there was no need. I had my bride, my queen.” There was such tenderness in his gaze as he pronounced his love to the world.

Ana DeLuca: “ You announced the same night of the coronation that you two were going to become parents. Congratulations by the way. This is truly a monumental time for you two, for the monarchy.”

Queen Saige: “Thank you for your kind words...and yes it should have been an exciting time, but something changed a week after the coronation. You see, my husband was expected in Italy for a conference and I happen to have a doctor’s appointment the day after he left so I could not go with him.” Saige’s voice dropped low as she weighed the decision to open up.

“We chatted that night before bed and I had chosen to turn in early. Little did I know that there were other plans in the works that night. I woke up a short time later wanting a snack. It was then that I heard a noise coming from the living area. I thought nothing of it as I went to grab something to eat and a bottle of water.”

The queen became visibly affected as she continued to explain her personal hell in the palace. Her eyes became dampened with unshed tears, she could not allow her grief to stand in the way of her moment to free her spirit again.

“ I walked down the darkened hallway to be met by an enormous hand choking me into silence. This night, i was attacked within my home ...in my living room.”

Saige’s leg began to bounce from the nerves trying to bubble up. She wanted to run away, but she knew that wasn’t her answer. She couldn’t do that to Liam, she couldn’t do it to herself .She suddenly took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and looked at loving husband. She knew that she needed to rely on his strength more than even right now.

“That night, I was beaten and violently raped by … the former king. He had two guards, one of which was my own to hold me down and tear my clothing from my body. He… he uttered such vile things as he hurt me. His hand was over my mouth the entire time. He didn’t care the agonizing pain as I shook, pleading with my eyes to stop hurting me. Not to hurt my baby, but he didn’t… he never gave a damn what hell he put me through.”

Saige bit her inner cheek fighting like hell to keep from breaking down. She couldn’t let him steal this moment in time from her, from his grave. She had her family to think about. Without thinking her free hand moved down her body and gently cupped her belly. She felt a flutter within her willing her to continue to stand up to the demon that shared Liam’s bloodline.

“I spent days in the hospital… mostly unconscious… unaware of what had happened to me. I had no idea that my husband had to rush home to find out the atrocities that had been committed against us. I had no idea how to feel when I opened my eyes… finally and learned where I was and the fallout from king Constantine. The true extent of what he’d stolen from is that night.”

Saige looked down to her belly and willed herself to keep it together. Liam saw the pain etched in her porcelain features. Her beautiful blue eyes that were so full of pain, yet hopeful that something good could come of this. He squeezed her hand and nodded. Saige knew with this man , she was going to be okay. Liam looked at Ana DeLuca baring a determined look in his eyes. He took over the moment.

King Liam: “I learned while my wife was out fighting for our baby’s life that she was severely beaten and damage during the heinous act caused her to lose our child.”

Ana looked bewildered as her eyes darted back and forth between the royals and then to the queen’s abdomen. Liam sensed her confusion and continued.

“ The meeting I had a short time after arriving with the doctor I learned of the miscarriage and I also learned that we were not expecting one child...but two. How do you process such a gift and a heartache at the same time? I had to think about how we would break the news to my queen.”

The sight of a monarch visibly emotionally moved by reliving the loss of a child bought Ana to tears. She tried to quickly recollect herself to not deviate from the interview.

Ana DeLuca: “King Liam, how did you come to terms with the loss of your child, your heir?”

King Liam:” I realize that the baby, our baby was the heir… but he or she was our family member first.That was a baby that we loved and planned for ...together. What do you do with the promise that is unrealized? Where do the future first experiences go? The first smile, the first steps, the first time hearing that little one call me daddy, the first giggles, the first steps, the first time planning a birthday, our first holiday as a family… What do you do with that?”

Silence as Ana tried to process the hypothetical question. She saw a glimpse of the personal hell that her king and queen, Cordonia’s king and queen had been suffering. It made sense in a news flash sort of way that they were quiet in their personal life for a bit.As if reading her mind, Liam chimed in again.

“I had to… in that moment focus on helping my wife heal physically and emotionally. We were both reeling from the reality that our little family would be missing a part of our dream. I also had to come to grasp the abominable actions of the man whose father had violated my wife and caused the death of our unborn child.”

Liam pauses at the realization hearing himself speaking aloud about how his world was turned upside down by his father’s actions.

“Apparently the former king was a coward unwilling to face consequences of his actions.Rather than atone for going to his sins, he chose to take his own life. Here it was we were expecting the next generation of the Rhys royal bloodline, and to have a future cut short by our own family member.”

Liam clenched his fist at the thought of what injustice his father had perpetrated against Saige. He felt for what had gone through… still was going through at the hands of his father.

Ana beautifully refocused the moment back to the queen.It was not lost on her the reaction as she listened intently as Liam shared the most devastating moment of her life.

Ana De Luca: “ma’am what do you want the citizens of Cordonia to take away from this interview?”

Saige paused thoughtfully as she considered what message she wanted to carry forward.

Queen Saige: “I want the citizens, I want our child to know that you can rise against all odds. You will see some dark times, but being surrounded by the people you love...and that love you, there is a better tomorrow. The pain will seem overwhelming and endless, but you must find a way to get out of bed in the morning… start to hope again by putting one foot in front of the other. I know by the grace of my king, I now feel a sense of purpose. We are going to invest that extra love into the child that will share life upon this world. I have to think that heaven must have made room for an angel a little early. I will think of our little that’s not able to walk amongst us here when I look into the eyes of the baby that’s on the way. When I hear the laughter of a Cordonian child, I will smile thinking of the laughter that was lost earlier this year. We did need some time to grieve and to pick ourselves up and continue pressing forward… but still I’ll rise … I’ll rise to fight another day.

Ana DeLuca: “Do you have any final words for our viewers king Liam?”

Liam smiled proudly at his queen. He felt this overwhelming feeling growing in his chest. He watched her conquer her fear. His father couldn’t hurt her anymore. She faced her boogie man in front of the country with such strength and determination.He stood and dropped down to one knee… bowing to his Queen.

King Liam: “I couldn’t say it any better than my queen. I echo her words and look forward to peace and prosperity for Cordonia. I want the best for our country and for our family.”

Ana DeLuca: “Thank you both your majesties for allowing us to share a glimpse into your worlds.”

Ana faced the camera and bid farewell to the viewers .

“Thank you for spending time with your monarchs Cordonia. We look forward to meeting the new heir once he or she make their entrance into the world.”

“And cut”... the cameras were turned off and the lights were dimmed.

Liam’s strong arms wrapped around his wife and he cupped her face in his hands. He smiled as he softly placed a tender kiss to the top of Saige’s head. “I am so very proud of you my love.”

She released a breath she did not realize she was holding. She outstretched her hands grabbing on his face. “I was so nervous Liam, but you being here meant the world to me.” She planted a quick peck on his lips.

He acknowledged Ana and her crew before turning to leave. “Ana, thank you for allowing us time to share our story. My head of security will see you to your transportation. Have a good night.”

Liam led Saige to the edge of the waters surrounding Valtoria and wrapped his arm around her waist. They both veered our into the orangish purple hues that made up the perfect sunset that was minutes away from saying good night to the sun. There was something so serene about watching the skies tranquil above Cordonia. They sat in the grassy field beside the flowing waters thinking about the remains of the day. King Liam sat with his legs opened inviting his queen to lean back to take a respite from the world. Saige leaned back into his chest, raised her hand to lace with his fingers , he reached out his large hand and gently laid it upon her growing belly.

He whispered in her ear, “ you were amazing love, tomorrow we shall meet with our people … a kingdom gained. I love you and our babies here and lost.”

They sat nestled in the comfort of each other’s arms.Saige closed her eyes and smiled softly in the warmth of his love. “Tomorrow…we put one foot in front of the other to welcome a new day.”

#king liam #king liam x mc #pixelberry #the royal romance #mc x king liam #the royal heir #liam x mc pregnancy #trh

[curtashiism]

Long rant/vent ahead

It’s hard, because I know I genuinely love biology. I love learning about anatomy and physiology, and I have an affinity for bio as a whole. But I don’t know that it’s really what I want to do, and I feel like I was never given the chance to fully explore what I actually wanted to do because of my mom’s manipulative behavior to me growing up.

When I was younger I wanted to do something with music, but my mom told me I wouldn’t be good enough. I didn’t have the talent my sister did at the cello, which was why they sunk so much money into her cello rental and lessons but wouldn’t get me any lessons.

My mom told me future was in academics and I never really questioned it. Her grandma had a premonition (my mom’s words, not mine) that I would go into the sciences. So my mom never let me consider anything else. She tried her best to shut any other ideas I had down. She never came to a single one of my track meets when I ran in 8th grade. I mean, I finished dead last in every race except the one time I finished second to last, but that’s not the point. I shouldn’t have had to be good to earn her involvement. But that’s how it was with her. She only cared when it was something I was good at- academics. She’d come to the awards ceremonies when I made honor roll, but never cared about my other interests.

So I settled on the medical field at some point- I thought a doctor or vet for a while but I’m not good enough at math, physics, or chem, so now I’m thinking public health.

Before I started college, I wanted to take a break from school, get a job, and figure things out. But my mom didn’t want that. She thought if I did that, I’d never go back to school, and we couldn’t have that now could we? So she did what she does- she manipulated the situation to get what she wanted to my detriment. It didn’t matter that I didn’t want loans. She said “we all go into debt, suck it up” and told me if I didn’t start the next term she would kick me out.

So I did. Then once I had the loans finalized, she told me she was never going to kick me out, she just wanted me to “get my life together.” Because clearly it’s not my right to make those decisions, it’s hers, and if I wasn’t ready to start college at 19 my life must have been falling apart.

So now here I am, entering my senior year of college at 26 years old, panicking because I need to start preparing for a Master’s program but I don’t FEEL ready at all and I’m not sure this is actually what I want to do. I like the arts. I want to learn more about them. I want to learn to play the violin, I want to see if I can act (I’m practicing voice acting and am loving it and my friends say I actually am not bad at it and I have a cute voice perfect for child characters), or maybe even try to write a play (I love theater and I love writing.) Hell, I think I’d be happier joining the Peace Corps or going to the Kalahari Desert to volunteer with the meerkat study project for a year. I’m not ready for grad school- but I feel like I HAVE TO do it.

But that’s the thing. I try so hard to get my mom to approve of my decisions for just ONCE in her life. But even when I do exactly what she wants it doesn’t happen. She wanted me to do the science stuff to begin with- but when I tell her there’s a couple of MPH programs down in NYC, I would just need to finally get my driver’s license and a car, she starts making me defend my decision. She asks all these questions that make it sound like I’m some kind of idiot for wanting to get a Master’s degree. And maybe I fucking am, but not for the reason she thinks.

I told her I was going to learn the violin and her reaction was to get mad that I asked if I could practice it in the apartment during my visit home. When it looked like I was going to get to study abroad in London, before COVID, she made it all about her and her letting go issues.

When I graduated with my Associate’s degree- I’m the only one in the immediate family to do so, by the way- my mom cried before my graduation. Because she was devastated it wasn’t my sister.

And I honestly don’t know why I still even try. I know she has four kids but only cares about one. She will NEVER care about me or actually be proud of me. Not if I get a Master’s degree, not if I become a doctor, not if I became a tapdancing polyglot brain surgeon who cures cancer on the moon. She isn’t capable of it. On top of that, she has no grasp on who I actually am as a person.

She has a twisted and distorted view of me where I am a manifestation of all the things she fears are true of herself. All the things she doesn’t want to be, she projects onto me. She calls me hateful and judgmental and mean because I tell her not to call me when she’s been drinking. One single, solitary boundary I request and that’s too much for her. She was jealous of me as an INFANT because my dad doted on me. You have no idea how many times she’s been in the middle of a bender and accused me and my dad of literal incest because we’re close. “You’re his second wife” “there’s some Mormon shit going on between you two!” She doesn’t know the first thing about me. She told all my relatives that I only was in the orchestra as a teen because I wanted to be like my sister, not because I actually liked to play.

I do not admire a single thing about my fucking sister. This is the same sister who conspired with my first boyfriend and got him to sexually abuse me. The same sister who got high on meth and fucking raped our little brother. The same sister who told me about this while she was blackout drunk, then licked my neck. The same sister whose behavior I told to my mom and got a response of “well to be fair I’ve fantasized about your neck too!” Oh but see, if my mom was to be believed, my fucking sister never did anything to hurt my little brother, no sir. He made it up for attention, and I “planted lies in his head because I wanted to prove an agenda about men being able to be raped by women.” Because she thinks I’m so evil I would use my little brother as a pawn for a social experiment just to hurt my sister.

I don’t admire anything about my sister. I barely even fucking feel sorry that she fell into sex trafficking and had the same thing done to her that she did to my little brother. I should be upset about it, but I just feel apathetic, especially since she got to see her abuser put behind bars while my little brother is still dragged out to visit her every time my folks (who he still lives with as an adult) decide to see her. She’s a shitty person. The world will be a better place when she fucking dies. She convinces everyone she meets that she’s a wonderful person because she tells them what a long journey she’s been on and how she’s working so hard to heal through her faith (conveniently leaving out the part where she victimized others as much as she was a victim herself). Bitch, you don’t get a cookie because you fucking went five years without sexually abusing your younger siblings. Jesus isn’t fucking proud of you. I’m certainly not.

But of course, since she’s the one my mom favors, she can do no wrong. My mom is no better than her in my eyes.

So that brings it back to, why the FUCK do I want her approval?

Why the fuck do I care?

She certainly doesn’t care about me. If all the above shit isn’t proof, the fact that she got drunk when I was 15 and said she wished she could kill me is. The fact that she gave me PTSD from all the shit she put me through is proof. The fact that she made me coming out as a lesbian all about her is proof. The fact that she would go on a hateful rant about trans people- even though she doesn’t know I am, she knows I care deeply about the issues which should be enough but some isn’t- is proof. The fact that she honestly can NOT remember what my birthday is and has to be reminded by my dad is proof. The fact that she once called me a bitch on my birthday, which she forgot was my birthday until my little brother reminded her, is proof. The fact that she tried to tear my dad and I apart because she was too insecure to handle my dad “choosing his kids over her” is proof. The fact that she put me in the position of having to let her scream and throw things at me to protect my younger brother, because the alternative was letting her hurt him instead, is proof. The fact that I self-harmed for nearly a decade because of her and only got clean when I moved 3,000 miles away (what a coincidence!) is proof.

She’s fucking sick and is never going to be anything approaching a good mother to me because she doesn’t see me as me, she just makes me the lightning rod for her anger whenever she gets pissed off. When she’s pissed off, I’m an emotional punching bag, and when she’s hurting I’m a substitute therapist who will do all the emotional heavy lifting for her because she fucking knows how to use my compassion and guilt complex against me.

She has reasons, in her head, for why I’m so awful and deserving of her anger, which it took me years to learn weren’t actually excuses because I was a CHILD and she had no right to hold shit against me. And I know the truth is that she’s never proud of me because she doesn’t actually want my success- especially not when my sister doesn’t have it. She treats me the best, the nicest, when I fail, because that’s what she wants for me, even if she pretends otherwise. She’s sick and she’s so determined to play victim for her whole fucking life that she will never NOT be sick this way.

And I’m even sicker than she is because I still try after all these years. The real definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. I just keep getting my hopes up that one day, I will say the magic words that will make her actually be supportive. Like if I get a magical piece of paper to show her she’ll think I’m actually worth something, but she never will and I’m an idiot for hoping. If she hasn’t got it by now, she never will. My dad loves me for me, my brothers loves me for me, my grandma loves me for me, my aunts and uncles and cousins love me for me, my friends love me for me- it’s just my mom who can’t figure out that I’m worth more than what I can do for her.

Fuck her. I’m either going to go to grad school or I’m not, but whatever I do will be awesome. I might act or play the violin or write plays or I might study ethnomusicology, or who knows, maybe I will go through with this public health stuff. Either way I’ll be surrounded with people who actually see me for me and are capable of feeling joy at my accomplishments. Maybe I’ll stupidly keep trying to include her, but I’ll have others around me when she inevitably disappoints me yet again. And she can’t say the same because she drives everyone who might care about her away.

[fameplagued]

❛ harry styles, 21, cismale, he/him ❜ was that EZRA WARD i just saw hurrying across the quad? you’d think they would know what happens when a JUNIOR is late to class. then again, the MUSIC MAJOR has been known to be pretty HEDONISTIC. maybe being so CHARISMATIC helps keep them out of trouble. i heard they aren’t an angel, though, and that they are BISEXUAL and love RISKY/PUBLIC SEX + MAKING AMATEUR PORN. 

ayyye friends, i’m happy to be here! i’m g, here to introduce my ugly son, he’s a mix of a few different characters i’ve played before but never quite like this so i’m hype :~) 

VISAGE: HARRY STYLES (MOSTLY CIRCA LATE 2014 & 2015 bc long hair)

VOICE-CLAIM (SPEAKING ACCENT & SINGING): HARRY STYLES

OTHER KINKS: CHOKING, ORGASM CONTROL/DENIAL, BEGGING, WORSHIP (REC)(GIV), PUNISHMENT + REWARD, ANAL, SPANKING, MARKING, BITING, HAIR PULLING, RIMMING (REC)(GIV), DADDY KINK, SIZE DIFFERENCE, VOYEURISM,  CLOTHES ON, GROUP SEX, SEXUAL PAIN, ORDERS (REC)(GIV), 

(ASK ABOUT OTHERS)

CANON TATTOOS (*MOSTLY)

born / raised just outside of manchester, england. comes from a wealthy yet extremely neglectful upbringing. his mother is english, his father is american, meaning since he was born in england, he’s of of dual citizenship. his family moved to his father’s home state of pennsylvania when he was 14, which is when he first starter his youtube channel

ok so a big thing is that ezra’s slow but currently steady rise to fame within the music industry has been alarmingly quick and that fact has shaped a lot of his personality; think justin bieber or shawn mendes with their gaining an initial fanbase and then a loyal following via starting out on youtube / other social media outlets as a young teenager, only with a much messier, Rockstar™ persona and you have ezra ward

there’s a pretty distinct difference between the version of himself that much of his dedicated fanbase perceptions are based on, and the Real Him. in the media he’s gradually becoming more of a household name for being a musician with a mostly positive message, an inclusive fanbase, a charming personality and being an all around humble, approachable, likable young guy

in his personal life, things are a bit,, different. he’s a hedonist, through and through, in that his pursuit of pleasure ranks far above everything else on his priority list. he’s also extremely sybaritic meaning crazy self indulgent when it comes to luxury, and in his late teens when he had the world at his fingertips, it was all about having the Best everything (mini bars, expensive cars, the good champagne, n private planes- ok i’ll shut up now no one needs my bad 1d references rn)

so basically he spent ages 17-19 as a touring musician after forming a backing band built of some his closest friends from high school, all the while earning his associates in arts in music through an online program; balancing social media as a full time job, getting to perform live in any kind of larger capacity, and still doing well in college posed quite a challenge, especially as he became more focused on the rockstar lifestyle and less on school

still, he never stopped wanting to learn as much as he possibly could about music, determined to become a master of his craft, so he earned his degree and kept hungry for knowledge. after a near-overdose the summer after he turned 19 however, his parents and their what felt to him like faux-concern at the time eventually talked him into putting touring and gaining celebrity status on the back burner for a while

in exchange for a proposed change in habits and lifestyle, they offered to pay for him to apply for and attend the prestigious university of his choice so he could get his bachelor’s degree in music theory, something he agreed to after heavy deliberation, and only after he had a personal realization about just how much the limelight was getting to him, the brighter it became did he decide it was for the best that he stepped back from it to focus on school

choosing college over touring /  growing the band’s popularity cost him a few members of his backing band / friends who had no interest in ‘waiting around for him to finish getting some stupid degree’ and went on to pursue other projects, which meant he no longer had the same support system in that group of friends that he’d become so used to, and that lead him to seek out a new one almost as soon as he was enrolled at northridge as a freshman: he immediately pledged omega pi  (bc we all know what a frat boy harry looked like at 19, hello, i’m not passing that up), finding that he fit right in with its reputation for being full of guys who were heavily focused on partying, and now that he’s a junior he’s in charge of marketing & recruitment :~)

his appetite for pleasure & luxury coupled with still considering himself a rich, successful musician and just being an incredibly sexually fueled person in general makes for a really delicious and dangerous mix ngl and so far in his 21 short years he’s lived a pretty Wildt life, even while at college

he hasn’t released anything music-wise for the couple of years he’s been at university, but he wants 22 (he turns that soon hi he’s an aquarius ass bitch) to be the year that changes, where he delves back into it and truly becomes the artist he was ~destined to be~ or whateva

frequently considers whether or not he made the right choice in essentially choosing college over being an artist / celebrity for the time being, and wonders if dropping out would be the better option (esp bc he thinks he only has so much Time anyway, more info below), but always talks himself out of it

is Firmly Set on the idea he’s going to be part of the 27 club (my boi is already almost 22 like :/ excuse u sir, snap out of that? someone give him a reason to live lmfao no i’m kidding i promise)

has an underlying hopelessly romantic side / has had a lot of either toxic or very intense relationships / has hurt & been hurt by a lot of people, so he has an extreme aversion to emotional attachment and falling in love / prefers casual sex / thinks he’ll never have a long term relationship again (yikes ik like hi get some therapy babe)

he’s reckless, impulsive, can be incredibly domineering, drinks too much, fucks too much (if that’s possible), and (drugs tw) does way too much coke for fun and too much adderall for studying, definitely every bit the ~tortured artist~ even though most of his issues are rooted in like, mommy/daddy issues and (homophobia tw) knowing his parents wouldn’t accept or support him any longer if they knew that he was bisexual

to sum it all up, he’s here for a good time, not a long time, and while he is here, he wants to learn all that he possibly can about music because to him it’s basically the meaning of life ok

that’s?? pretty much all i have for now, i will probably update this again at some point but i don’t want to make it too long because i definitely want to develop him within this group as i go along and besides it was just TIME for me to get something up

i’ll have a connections page up soon but some ideas off the top of my head are: best friends (platonic or otherwise), fwb, exes on good or bad terms, someone who also grew up in pennsylvania / maybe knows him from high school?, enemies w/ benefits, hookups via sorority/frat parties, professors he’s earned ~extra credit~ with or whateva, someone who was a fan before he came to northridge but now they lowkey hate him, someone who’s still a fan, fwb ft. one-sided crush, classmates, etc ! 

#noru.intro #this is so long RIP pls forgive me #ya'll know what to do ! #{ ooc | ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴄᴀʀɴᴀʟɪᴛɪᴇs } #tw drug use #tw homophobia mention

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 48

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

SYNOPSIS:  The two Section One operatives make their way to Thailand on Madame Cheung’s private Lear jet. On arrival in Bangkok, Jamie and Claire proceed to the rendezvous location to meet their protagonist.

N.B This chapter has some suggestive text.

My THANKS for reading, liking or reblogging my story.  I really appreciate your support of my writing. Previous chapters can be found … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

  CHAPTER 48 (S)

Seated in the spacious limousine provided for their journey, James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp made their way to the private airport to board Madame Cheung’s Lear jet which had been placed at their disposal for the trip to Bangkok. It was not long before the sleek vehicle soon neared its destination and the waiting aircraft on the tarmac. Eventually the limousine pulled up beside a state-of-the-art Lear jet that was being readied for their pending take off. Alighting from the limo Jamie cast a look around the surrounding area before holding the door open for Claire to step out.  They then approached the aircraft where the plane’s hatch lay open and standing at the foot of the aircraft’s steps, he cast another look around before boarding the Lear jet.

Jamie followed Claire up the steps where they were warmly welcomed by two hostesses on entering the cabin. “Good evening Monsieur Le Comte, mademoiselle. Welcome aboard.”

“Merci beaucoup.” “Please take your seats, we will be leaving momentarily.”

Moving into the luxuriously appointed cabin, Jamie and Claire took seats opposite each other then settled in for the flight to Bangkok and their meeting with Madame Cheung. No sooner had they taken their seats than the pilot alerted them to their imminent departure. “We're preparing for take off!” As the jet slowly taxied out of its holding zone, one of the hostesses ran through the safety procedures for the jet’s two VIP passengers. The Lear jet made a right turn then a left before gliding along the main runway in preparation for its take off procedure. It hovered on the runway for its turn for departure but waited for another aeroplane to land before clear skies indicated it was safe to begin the jet’s take off. “Would all cabin crew please take your seats?” The hum of the engines roaring to life echoed through the cabin as Jamie and Claire both fastened their seatbelts. The jet began its take off as it gathered more and more speed along the tarmac. Inside the cabin, the two passengers and staff were thrown back into their seats as lift-off occurred and the Lear jet gained more height in the air. Veering to the left in a gentle sweep of the airport the pilot gave those on board a clear picture of the ground below.  In next to no time the buildings and surrounds soon diminished in size as the Lear jet gained more and more altitude until finally levelling off and disappearing into the clouds. Jamie and Claire were finally winging their way to Bangkok on Madame Cheung’s private aircraft to rendezvous with the doyen of the Rising Dragons. Her fate was now in their hands. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Claire cast a glance Jamie’s way as the hostess made an appearance with refreshments once the Lear jet had settled into its correct flight pattern. “Excuse me Monsieur what would you care to drink?” “Whisky will be fine.” “Certainly ... And you mademoiselle?” She asked turning towards Claire. “The same thank you.” “I will be serving your evening meal in the dining room to the rear of the jet shortly Monsieur Le Comte, so perhaps you would care to have your drinks there as well.” “Thank you, but I have some pressing business that I need to conclude before dining.” “As you wish sir. Shall I return in a half an hour?” “Yes.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* As the Lear jet levelled off, with its nose aimed for Bangkok, Jamie placed his personal computer on the table between them and began working at his laptop. He typed in an access code that gave him an open line with Fergus and which would alert him to the route the jet was travelling. “What are you doing?” Claire asked looking over at him. “Contacting Fergus.” “Why?” “I'm running Intel for the jet’s flight path.” “Why can’t he just download it?” “Fergus needs to confirm the transmission, then he’ll re-route it back to me.” “Ahhh.” Claire's face had a far-away expression, thinking about what may be happening back at Section. “It must be pretty crazy back there. You know what Fergus is like.” His non-verbal reply indicated that Jamie had his mind on other things so she settled in to read a glossy magazine while he contacted Section One. Nevertheless, Jamie glanced up at his partner and watched her from time to time as she read her publication.

Sensing his scrutiny, Claire looked up just as he looked away. For a moment she too watched him work. The faint greenish glow of his computer screen cast a muted light over him revealing the concentration etched on his face as Jamie continued his task. He didn't look up from his screen even though he knew Claire was studying him. She took note of the matter-of-fact determined manner of his disposition. Jamie was Section One through and through and when it came to dotting his i’s and crossing his t’s, he left nothing to chance. She watched as he poured over the computer screen. She’d covertly studied him many times on their return from or going to a mission and Jamie usually pulled up some profiles he’d been working on or wrote his report while in transit. He hardly ever slept if at all for he was always doing something that concerned the mission. That is why his team members survived ... because he was diligent just as he was now.

A sombre expression crossed her face thinking of the times he had rescued her. But more importantly ... she watched his eyes. They darted across the screen as his fingers quickly typed on the keyboard, so absorbed on his task; it was as if he had blocked everything else out of his mind. But had he really? At that moment Jamie stopped what he was doing, glanced up and studied Claire's expression before capturing her gaze with his penetrating glance. Their eyes locked and she could only swoon at the depth of feeling his look imparted. Caressing her face his gaze lingered on her mouth before returning to her luminous eyes. An exhilarating blush rose to her cheeks as Claire held his look with one of her own. He appeared to be about to tell her something but didn’t need to utter a word. A silent communication where no words were necessary passed between them. With his one piercing look Jamie had managed to say everything she had wanted to hear and more. However, as Claire’s eyes absorbed his look, Jamie’s comm. unit began to beep. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Back at Section One Fergus Claudel sat at his computer station snacking on Oreos his go to snack. He was fidgety as usual whenever he was waiting for something that was too slow coming through and was full of pent up energy as he waited for Jamie’s communiqué that would enable him to track the jet’s flight plan. He was getting a little angsty when nothing appeared on his computer screen and alerted Jamie in case there was a problem. “Jamie?” However James Fraser ignored his question until Fergus’ worried voice again intruded into their moment once more. “Jamie, are you there?” “Yes, Fergus?” “I’m not receiving ...Type PS dash E.” “OK.” Pushing his glasses back up his nose he watched his monitor. “Still nothing Jamie ... All right type this in too ... Kill, space, minus nine, space, 313 ... Okay? You got that? ... That should do it.” “Anything yet?” “Not yet ... but it has to filter through.” After a short time a red dot showed up on his computer screen. A relieved Fergus replied, “Yes! ... Jamie ... we have the coordinates.” He sat back in his chair and watched the computer do its work. His main frame computer had picked up the jet’s fight trail like a homing beacon. Once the coordinates appeared on his monitor, Fergus was now able to track its sonic waves as the jet winged its way across the sky on its flight towards Bangkok with Jamie and Claire on the next phase of their mission to capture Madame Cheung.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Some time into the flight to Bangkok, the hostess reappeared to collect their evening meal dishes from the dining area of the jet. Claire cast a glance Jamie’s way as she hovered around them then watched as she placed their dishes on her trolley. After she’d cleared their table the hostess cast her gaze over both of her guests before looking at Jamie.

“I hope you enjoyed your meals,” she inquired with a smile.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Will that be all then sir, or is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No.”

“I have a question,” Claire stated as she looked towards the hostess.

“Yes mademoiselle?”

“How long will the flight to Bangkok take?”

“It will be approximately two hours and twenty minutes until we reach our destination.”

“Thank you. I think I’ll just catch a little shut eye then,” Claire replied.

“By all means ... if you need anything just press your call button.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Travelling at fifteen thousand feet, the hum of the engines and the gentle rocking of the plane was hypnotic. Claire’s forehead pressed against the jet’s window and she stared blankly into the night void, but she soon closed her eyes as the lull made her drowsy. She began to recount their time here in Hong Kong and in particular the night of their reunion and felt herself drifting back to the intimate moments shared with Jamie, after their long separation.

After only a few hours’ sleep caught here and there during the night she’d been exhausted, but it was an exhilarating exhaustion. She’d been somewhat insatiable for Jamie’s touch and their ensuing lovemaking had affected her deeply. Why was it that when together they had such an explosive outpouring of emotions? Separation had obviously made the heart grow fonder or was there more to their relationship than just sexual attraction? It wasn’t just the sex ... because that was wonderful. There was something more, something so fragile and intangible that Claire knew it could only be one thing. If she could admit it was more ... would Jamie too? The mutual outpouring of their emotions for one another had been overwhelming and too hard to ignore. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face at just the thought of what they had done again and again.

When Jamie had laid his head on her chest, her skin had shivered but when his hands lowered and touched her intimately ... she’d been lost. Jamie had bombarded her with his touch until she could stand no more. Her stomach muscles had clenched in the anticipation of what was to come ... and she couldn’t stop the keening cry that left her lips. She’d arched up to make it easier for him to explore ... but her motives were completely selfish. She’d wanted Jamie with such an overwhelming passion that her body had reacted spontaneously. She’d had no control whatsoever over how she’d reacted. All she knew was that it was right ... it was what she’d missed ... it was what she’d wanted. She had moved against him without so much as one coherent thought entering her brain. Her body just knew what it wanted ... what it needed. Her hands wandered roaming at will over his body. When Jamie had looked at her ... he’d known. He’d known everything that she was feeling ... he’d known the secret of her heart by just looking into her eyes. Then they had made love ... fast and furiously until Jamie had turned her inside out sending her feelings soaring. They’d made love again ... slowly this time, as they savoured the touch and feel of each other after so long away. Fraser was a conjurer ... whatever magic he’d invoked ... he’d used it on her until all she could do was respond to his touch. Shaking with the depth of her feelings she’d given him control of her mind and body to do whatever he would at will. Jamie was everything to her and no matter how often they came together it would never be enough to satisfy her longing for him. Each time they had made love was a time of new discovery. She had broken down his barriers a little during the night. But did she really know him any better? Her heart had opened up wider with love that was overflowing for him but ... was it reciprocated? In the early morning she’d sighed out loud and moved her hand to the place where Jamie had laid beside her. She had touched his warm skin ... then had felt his caress and she’d lost all conscious thought. She remembered stretching like a cat that had been well and truly stroked for Jamie had been extraordinary and she had responded to his lovemaking just as enthusiastically. Her body had felt weary, but every pore, sinew and nerve ending from the top of her head to the tip of her toes was sated. Yet still she had wanted more. Her brazen response to Jamie’s touch had been involuntary, but she had invited his caress and things had just escalated. His touch made her ache with the heat of desire and she’d gone to pieces. Her emotions were all a kilter when Jamie bombarded her senses making her tremble. Unravelling and moaning she’d surrendered to his potent touch lost to an outpouring of emotions she could not control. She had touched him just as intimately. She’d felt Jamie swell as her fingers had glided over him until his erection had throbbed in her hand. The power was incredible. To think that he’d reacted to her touch with such conviction was overwhelming but he’d only given her so much control ... and no more until he had groaned and flipped her over. She was hungry for him... so hungry she’d writhed in desperation of what she knew he could give her. And he had. They’d moved in sync until they had both capitulated to the “little death” that had swept them over the edge with a cataclysmic joining of their two souls. She could still smell their intoxicating scent. Jamie’s image was etched into her heart. Making love with him made her feel whole. They had been together so few times yet each coupling was a piece of the puzzle that fit together to make a bigger picture. It just felt right. They were right together. Jamie may not yet realise the depth of his emotions but she knew that what she felt could only get better if they were only given the chance. But would that be possible in the life they led? Could they have a relationship and remain unaffected? Section One held no prisoners when it came to emotional ties between operatives. But James Fraser was worth fighting for. They already had history together ... they had a bond that was invincible. Could they have a love that lasted the test of time too? Her heart smiled. They did have a love worth fighting for ... of that she was certain and she would convince Jamie in due time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I’m dreaming, Claire told herself, it was obviously the effects of the whisky she had consumed, but it was a dream she didn’t want to wake up from. Settling in for more of her wonderful reverie induced memories, she sighed out loud as her thoughts returned to their night spent at Madame Cheung’s. However, before she was able to recount more of those experiences Claire was awakened by Jamie’s gentle resonance.

“Sass-en-ach?” He whispered near her ear.

“Humph?”

“Wake up mo ghràidh we’re approaching descent.”

Two hours had passed quickly. Had she really slept all that time?

Noting her disorientated look Jamie queried, “What were ye dreaming about?”

“N-nothing...” she replied sheepishly.

Jamie merely raised an eyebrow in question. “Really?”

Gazing at his penetrating look and now fully awake, Claire answered cheekily staring him down ... “Well actually ... it was the Mile-High Club.”

The inflection and challenge in her voice amused him. A wry smile crossed Jamie’s lips ... but his eyes promised much more.

She had done it again. Where Jamie was concerned ... she very seldom could trump him for he had just turned the tables on her yet again. James Fraser was a dangerous man ... a very dangerous man... and she had fallen into his trap once more, she chided herself. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Madame Cheung’s Lear jet flew through the clouds en-route to Bangkok International Airport with its two passengers. However, those on board were unaware that Le Comte St. Germain and Claire Beauchamp were really Section One operatives whose mission was to capture Madame Cheung from the Rising Dragons’ triad. The time on board had passed all too quickly and as the jet neared its destination; the pilot made preparations for landing and spoke with the air traffic controller at the airport for confirmation of his landing procedures.

“Bangkok, this is Mooney-three-three-golf.”

In the control tower, a flight controller replied, “Mooney-three-three-golf, Bangkok. We have you level at 5,000.”

“Roger. Request vectors, full-stop landing runway three-two.”

“Copy, three-three-golf. Turn right heading two-seven-zero descend to 3,000. Altimeter two-niner-niner-two.”

“Three-three-golf right to two-seven-zero. Decent to three thousand, two-nine nine-two,” the pilot repeated.

“Three-three-golf, you are cleared final runway three-two. Winds three-three-zero at 15. Be advised visibility is reduced on final half mile”.

“Roger, Bangkok. I don't see the field in sight. Continue vectors.”

Depressing his intercom to the passengers the pilot announced “Seatbelts please,” as the Lear jet descended into the steamy Bangkok evening. “We’re making our final approach and we’ll be landing in five minutes.”

The control tower continued with the Lear jet’s landing instructions.” Turn left two-seven-zero. Descending.”

“Roger. Descending.”

“Three-three-golf, you’re lined up runway three-two, cleared to land.”

“I have field visual this time, Bangkok. Cleared to land.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Turning away from Jamie’s insightful gaze Claire looked out of the window as the jet made its descent into the “City of Angels”, Thailand’s capital city Bangkok. As she peered into the night sky, she could see the lights of the airport terminal and the many city buildings surrounding it aglow with illumination. Leaning her head back against the seat she waited for the initial touchdown jolt of the wheels onto the tarmac, however, the Lear jet made a perfect landing but bypassed the arrivals area and taxied towards a private hangar section of the airport to deplane its two important passengers.

The locale of the airport to where the Lear jet taxied was in a private secluded area away from the main terminal which was for the exclusive use of the Rising Dragons triad.  Its restricted use to other jets set it apart from the main airport as this made for an easy passage into the country.  Contraband, illegal immigrants or powerful figures connected with the triad often entered the country by these means, for the more powerful the triad, the more remuneration available to those corrupt officials who turned a blind eye if the price was right. Working for the Rising Dragons had its benefits for those officials on their payroll.  They were rewarded well for their loyalty but they also knew the punishment if they were to turn against the triad.  

Hence, Madame Cheung had left explicit instructions that the pilot would carry out to the letter ... or face the consequences.  The hangar’s seclusion away from prying eyes and the arrival officialdom that usually accompanied incoming flights, enabled Sun Yee Lok, Madame Cheung and other triad members to enter and leave Bangkok anonymously. The rigour of normal arrival procedures was always waived whenever her private jet arrived, thus no custom officials would meet Jamie and Claire and Immigration documentation for their visit had been prearranged.

The Lear jet taxied calmly into the private hangar and disappeared from sight. Rotating inside the hangar the jet positioned itself nose out in preparation for a later departure back to Hong Kong if needs be. As the jet completed its 180-degree turnabout it rolled toward the front of the hangar and the pilot bought the jet to a final stop, powering down the engines.   After some moments the fuselage door popped opened, and the hostess appeared in the doorway as the Lear jet’s electronic stairs smoothly dropped down before resting on the ground.  

Inside the plane, Jamie and Claire gathered up their belongings and made their way to the exit.

“I hope you enjoyed your flight?” The hostess declared as they prepared to leave the Lear jet.

“Oui, merci.”

“Were you able to get all your work done Monsieur Le Comte during the flight?”

“Yes ... I did”

"You have no need to go through Customs. Everything has been arranged.”

“I see.”

“The jet will be here for your departure back to Hong Kong or wherever else you need to go, whenever it is required Monsieur Le Comte.”

“Thank you.”

“Mademoiselle ... I trust you had an enjoyable flight too.”

“Very.”

“Madame Cheung has also provided transportation to her Thai residence.  It is waiting for you just inside the hangar to your right.” She nodded toward an enormous Jaguar stretch limousine, burgundy in colour with smoked glass windows, in the far corner of the hangar.  “Magnus will be your driver.”

“Thank you.”

As Jamie and Claire made their way towards the waiting stretch limousine outside of the hangar, they experienced Bangkok’s steamy humidity and heat.  It was uncomfortably hot and although only a short distance away, Claire broke out into a slight sweat. The limousine driver stood at attention beside the automobile waiting for his passengers.  Nodding politely as they approached, he opened the rear door for them and they entered the welcoming, cool vehicle.  Magnus, the chauffeur, then walked the length of the car, climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine.  The Jaguar accelerated out of the hangar heading towards the bright lights of Bangkok and Jamie and Claire’s rendezvous location to meet Madame Cheung and discuss business.

 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Comfortable in the air-conditioned limousine the interior provided relief from the humid, hot weather conditions that they had experienced when they had stepped down from the Lear jet earlier.   As the limousine raced toward Bangkok, they settled onto the long seat facing the divided window separating the chauffeur from the occupants of the automobile.   A cabinet to their left held a variety of drinks and nibbles for their journey to their destination, but neither consumed any beverage.  

Claire wasn’t quite sure what to expect on the journey into the capital of exotic Thailand. It certainly wasn’t the endless high-rise buildings, busy expressway flyovers and billboards of western companies advertising in English. Undoubtedly Bangkok had embraced westernization and modernization and the skyline was in some ways the same but different too from that of Hong Kong that she had observed when Angus Mhor had driven her to police headquarters all those months ago.  

Bangkok was the centre of a busy metropolis. Like Hong Kong the traffic was horrendous. Even at this hour of the evening, there seemed to be a permanent traffic jam or what the Thai called a rot dtit that stretched for what seemed like many kilometres as cars five abreast on the road crawled along.  Nonetheless, Magnus manoeuvred the jaguar through the traffic with ease and the limousine edged along the road even though the traffic moved slowly.  It was little wonder that the combined effect of the traffic, heat, humidity, noise, dirt, pollution and the unappealing look of the city made some want to leave Bangkok almost as soon as they'd arrived to travel to the outlying seaside areas of Koh Samui and Pattaya.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

However, as they travelled along things began to change. Through the smoked windows of the limousine, Claire could make out the distinctive Thai architecture of the many temples and residences dotted along the route.  Bangkok was certainly a visually unique capital city with diverse styles of architecture which exuded artistic grace.  Wooden houses raised on stilts were arresting, with particularly striking and beautiful roofs.  With swooping multi-tiered roof lines, they were elegantly shaped and tapering with various curiously attractive adornments, finials and decorations on the elongated roof beams. They were obviously ideally suited to shading the house from intense sun and the monsoon rain and they were unique and lovely.  

South East Asia was such a dichotomy Claire thought. Juxtaposed with the traditional architecture was the ugly concrete housing that was as far removed from the traditional as could be.  Large dedicated spirit houses built for good luck were alongside almost every major building they passed.  How strange that two major cities of this region could be so different. What excitement would Thailand hold for them?  Only time would tell.  

Claire looked across at Jamie but he offered no conversation, he merely replied with his patent blank stare.  

Unbeknownst to her he had, as usual, observed her ponderings in the car also, knowing that Claire’s mind had been transgressing to other things rather than to their prime objective.  She had observed the scenery along the way and had probably taken note of the uniqueness of the architecture of the buildings as his keen eye had too.  However, the similarity of this journey had not been lost on him.  Hundreds of times they had travelled silently in the mission van to locations to implement their assignment.  Although they were in slightly more salubrious transportation to apprehend a terrorist target, nevertheless, they had a prime objective in mind. This time Madame Cheung would be left with no options but to accompany them back to Section One.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued

#JamieandClaire #James Fraser #claire beauchamp #jamie and claire fanfic #covert operations

[wizardessink]

Frenemy Squad : PROLOGUE

Three childhood frenemies reunite unexpectedly as they find out that they’ve all applied for the same damn wizardry school. And they’re in the same dorm. And in the same class. And if it couldn’t get any worse, they’re going to have to deal with much more than each other.  [ OCs x ? Characters ;) / A friendship and romance fic ] A/N : Since the world of Wizardess Heart is generally vague when it comes to other countries and geography in general, I’ve taken a lot of liberty when it comes to creating another nation.  I won’t be focusing a lot on the economics, but I hope the country of  Corsagée (Core-sah-jay) remains interesting to you all.  If you can tell by the name, it’s based of France, but not completely. I won’t be using actual french words since this is a made up nation, so when a character speaks in Corsagian, it’s represented by this  « insert random conversation here ».  I hope you enjoy this fic! I’ll upload my own drawings to give you guys insight to what my characters look like.

Esmerelda had never been in a train before. Well, a Gedonelunian one. And not one made to cross borders- a local one. She’d been on a train back in Corsagée, her home country, but it wasn’t actually.. functioning. It was an abandoned train cart that was so rusty and worn out Esmerelda had only kicked open the door to choke immediately on the dust that spewed out. She inwardly cringed at the memory. Sometimes inspecting old shit that was lying in abandoned areas wasn’t that fun. And if she recalled correctly, she never found what she was looking for.

She smiled in nostalgia at the past. It’d only been a few weeks settling into the new country, and she felt quite out of place. Luckily for her heritage, she had learnt to speak Gedonelunian thanks to her dad and spoke it fluently. But even speaking the language wasn’t enough comfort for her. Esmerelda had always been the adventurous type as a child. Now, being seventeen and sitting on a local train of a country very much new to her, she realised she had lost a lot of her wanderlust somewhere during her adolescence. She screwed her nose up slightly, not quite fond of those memories. “Hey!” Esme turned her head to the source of the voice- a letter, who didn’t have a face, yet managed to display that it was angry. What the hell did I do now, Esme thought tiredly. He’d already given her a hard time when he appeared at her home earlier today – but what could she do? She literally had settled into her home a week ago, there was still a lot unpacked! “Our stop is next, so get ready to leave.” “Oh, thank you.” Must be courteous. The letter made a huff (somehow, it was just paper… Lune magic never ceased to amaze Esme) and hovered closer to the window. Her eyes glanced to the magical acceptance letter for a few seconds before looking back outside. She must learn how to do that first. How her relatives would riot in amazement and laughter. After all, it’s not every day you meet a letter with emotions, not to mention very sassy and prickly ones. Her eyes were now back in the scenery, and a small gasp escaped her. Graced on a mountain of land was the prestigious academy – but Esme thought it was a castle. «Holy shit,» she muttered in her native tongue, blinking a few times and giving her a slight pinch to make sure she wasn’t completely dreaming. “What was that?” The letter asked in curiosity. Esmerelda turned her defined face with a small smile to the letter. “I’m not in the Academy yet, but I’m already blown away,” She stated, looking back again out the window. The letter seemed to huff in pride this time. “Of course you are. This is the Royal Wizardry Academy of Gedonelune after all. It’s had a prestigious history from the very beginning.”

---

Jaida was expecting a simple letter back stating whether she’d been accepted or not, no big deal. Of course, her parents made a huge deal about it. Every single day, hour and second coming into Gedonelune they insisted she should not worry because of course she would get in.

And obviously, that made her previous not-worried-self now worried.

She paced around the homey loft above her father’s workshop, worked up and terrified. Jaida had never been this stressed and high strung before. She prided herself in being the mellowest of her household back home in Corsagée, always level-headed, cool, calm and composed. Well, all of that was gone because what if she hadn’t gotten in? What if she came to this new country still speaking with an accent for nothing? She couldn’t face her parents. She couldn’t face herself. 

She let out a groan as she banged her head against the wall.

Gah! She was too worked up over this!

«Jaida?» Her head shot up immediately as her mother’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

«Yes?» She responded, anxiously making her way to the staircase.

«There’s.. some.. one? Yes, someone to see you.» Jaida felt her heart drop into her stomach. Actually screw that, it was past that and was aiming to come out of her ass because her mother did not sound confident at all.

Taking in a deep breath, she held back tears as she straightened her back and walked down the stairs like nothing was wrong. She looked at mom, whose back was turned and holding the door open, obviously speaking to someone.

“Ah, she’s here,” Her mother turned around and smiled at her daughter, her accent coming out thickly as she spoke Gedonelunian. Jaida barely looked at her as she walked to the door and looked out to meet her grim reaper.

. . .

She didn’t see anyone.

“Excuse me? I’m up here.” Every single word was emphasized heavily, and Jaida found a piece of paper hovering above her.

“Jaida Lazuli, correct?” Words again were emphasized. Jaida knew immediately why the voice was doing that, but she didn’t understand one thing.

Was that a talking…. Letter?

Jaida straightened herself, bringing herself back to the current situation. “Yes. And don’t worry, I can speak Gedonelunian fluently.” She emphasized the last word with a smile. The letter seemed to be taken back slightly.

“Ah, I see… Well Ms Lazuli, I am the Acceptance Letter from the Gedonelune Royal Magic Academy.” The paper seemed to curl back, as if huffing its non-existent chest in pride.

Jaida Lazuli was frozen for a good few seconds.

She was going to study at the Academy.

“Huh? Why are you crying?”

---

Clarissa had been here before. She looked out her car at the school’s entrance, empty and peaceful. She’d been given a small tour she was 12. She knew the place like the back of her hand - because after all, it had been expected since a young child that she was going to become part of this Academy.

“Hey, we’re here!” The male voice floating in front of her stopped her from daydreaming. With an inward sigh, she watched her chauffeur open her door and allow her and the acceptance letter to step outside.

She elegantly turned her head towards the letter. “May I ask for a minute or two with my mother?” The letter seemed to be sceptical.

“We are here very early, Sir Letter.” The courtesy was good enough for the majestic acceptance letter.

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

Clarissa walked further up the path as her mother stepped out of the limousine.

Her eyes dropped to the stomach.

A heavily pregnant one.

«Goodness my little cupcake, I thought you would have ran straight into the gates!» Her mother joked in Corsagian, allowing her arm to be elegantly supported by her daughter.

«I’m not going to be present for my little sibling’s birth.» She said sadly, letting her hand gently rest on her mother’s swelled tummy.

«Don’t worry. Our new little macaron will love you the moment they see their wonderful big sister.» Clarissa cracked a smile. She always loved her mother’s little nicknames relating to sweets.

«Well, in any case – why don’t you go in? It’s been your dream, has it not?» Her sweet mother looked at her with concerned eyes.

Clarissa let out a little grunt of displeasure. «I’m in no hurry to go in. I’ve already visited this place a few times, anyways. I know it like the back of my hand.»

Her mother paused for a second before giving a light punch to her daughter’s arm. «C’mon. Go. Make some wonderful magic.» Clarissa could only smile as her mother giggled at her resigned expression.

«Alrighty.» Clarissa leaned down and gave her mother two affectionate kisses to her cheeks. «Tell the little macaron that I love them very much!» She crouched and kissed her mother’s belly, giving a warm little rub.

«Of course.» Clarissa smiled one last time at her large and expensive limo, her mother, and her dear chauffeur, Charles. Walking and waving goodbye, she re-joined the letter, a pleasant expression on her face.

“I’m sorry. Did you wait long Sir Letter?”

“No, not at all.” The letter responded in a cordial tone. And they strode through the gates, Clarissa’s posture immaculate.

After all, she had the Caspian reputation to uphold.

---

#swd wizardess heart #wizardess heart #wizardess heart fanfiction #my fanfiction #frenemy squad #esmerelda collinswood #jaida lazuli #clarissa caspian #first fic here :D #i had a bunch of others planned #but i spent so much time #on these characters soooo #enjoy i guess