#I’ve always wanted a tattoo of a deer on my thigh

[bunny-rambles]

Ancient Fauna; crocodiles are hundreds of millions years old or whatever. mooses are remnants of the ice age. creatures that are young and yet have seen more of this earth than man ever will. who are flesh and blood and alive and yet move as if they exist on a different plane to us. and yet are so real and a part of things. you and these strange liminal creatures confound, sometimes you're being hit by cars or turned into purses and then sometimes giving a look that speaks of aeons gone and aeons to come

This… This is weirdly accurate. I have moments of absolute stupidity and then other times I am hit with inspiration to create (hopefully) pieces of art. Sometimes I am wise and know everything, especially when I give advice, and other times I have no common sense and I am hopelessly lost. Perfectly balanced, 50% dumbass

Would you like to find out what you would be the god of? Take my new uqiz to find out

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

customer service, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You're the simple owner of an erotica shop. Known for being non-judgmental, non-kink-shaming, and for providing pleasant customer service. So what happens when a certain customer asks for a little... extra service?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; non-idol!AU; mentions of toxic masculinity and kink shaming; dom/sub themes; smut (restraints, body appreciation, praise, nipple play, handjob, edging); softdom!reader x firsttimesub!Jungkook

--

“Thank you for your patronage.”

The older woman bowed politely and took the inconspicuous brown paper bag from you. You smiled at her as she tucked it safely in her purse before thanking you again and walking out. The sky was already pitch black, with only a few people walking about. It was late, almost closing time. There was only one other customer browsing the shelves.

You knew him well.

You turned from the counter and continued calculating the day’s sales. It had been a surprisingly busy day for an erotica shop. Lots of people had purchased books today and even a good number of toys. Being one of the few adult shops in the whole district got you some… interesting customers. Thankfully, everyone was too nervous or awkward to start shit. This made your job a lot easier and you didn’t have to hire a second person. It was a small business, but you were quite proud of owning it.

You heard the clearing of a throat.

You punched in the last number. It took you less than a second to record the total in the book before shutting it. A deep breath coursed through you. You lifted your head, a small smile on your lips.

The young man shifted nervously on his heels. Curled, dark brown hair past his ears. A sharp jawline, mole quivering under his lower lip. A permanent deer-in-headlights look, at least when it came to visiting the store. He was wearing an over-sized, navy blue dress shirt and tight black slacks with black oxfords.

“How can I help you, Jeon Jungkook?”

His ears turned red. “Oh… you remember my name.”

You bowed ever so lightly. “Of course. Did you enjoy your book?”

The blush crept to his cheeks. He coughed awkwardly. You didn’t look away, keeping your small smile on your lips. You were wearing a high-necked, long-sleeved, floor-length black dress. Completely covered except for your head and hands. Your hands were perched one over the other, calmly waiting for his answer.

“Er, yes.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Over the course of his visits, you had learned a lot about Jeon Jungkook. He bought books and porn primarily BDSM-themed, either lesbian dom/sub or female dom/male sub. He bought only a few toys, but all were marketed for self-pleasure. He did not purchase any of the clothing, despite always eying it as he checked out. He was very hesitant to ask questions when there was a lot of people in the shop. He did, however, ask when there were no people in earshot. He requested opinions and recommendations a lot. He listened closely to your responses, dipping his head a bit as if he was afraid someone would know what he was asking.

At the moment, Jungkook seemed to be collecting himself. You patiently waited, watching his body language. Trembling shoulders. Chewing on his lower lip. Eyes flickering, looking in every direction except you.

“Could I… Could I please try that on?” he finally asked, raising his hand to point at something behind you.

You turned your head, following the direction of his finger. It was a black leather top for men, cut high, just above the nipples. There was a steel circle at the center of the chest that would lay under the collarbones, against the sternum. High-necked, with studs at the seams to prevent it from getting ripped with use. It had long sleeves, except instead of an opening for the hands, it ended in a closed, flipper-like encasement with straps. The back had a zipper to get inside the top.

You took a moment to let your eyes roam over the piece before facing him.

“You will need someone to help you put it on.”

You saw his hand falter. He lowered it, expression falling.

“Perhaps you can come back with someone to see if you two like it.”

Jungkook shifted his feet uncomfortably. “I don’t... have anyone who could help me.” His eyes darted from side to side. “No one knows.”

Your brows furrowed at his sad tone. “I’m sure there is someone who understands.”

Jungkook shook his head quickly. “Everyone I’ve even suggested that kind of… thing… they laughed at me,” he said tearfully, chewing on his lip harder. “They told me I was weak for wanting something like that. They told me I should be a man.”

A sharp tinge of annoyance shot through you. What kind of fucking bullshit was that? To be so vulnerable and admit what you liked – that was being a man, or any human for that matter. Jungkook blinked rapidly, pushing away his tears. He had been repressing this side of him for a long time, it seemed, only revealing a little when he was at the shop. The thought made you angry. Not having sexual freedom was soul crushing.

“It’s expensive.”

Jungkook nodded. “I saved up for it.”

Your eyes flickered to the clock. “It’s ten minutes before closing, Jungkook.”

He bowed his head. “I understand.”

You winced. He looked so lost and alone, like a bunny who couldn’t find home. You tapped the counter sharply, making him snap his head up.

“The fitting rooms are in the back. Let me close up a little and I will be right with you,” you said, sweeping your skirts back to walk around the counter. Jungkook watched you stride to the door of the shop before scurrying towards the back. You locked the door and pulled down the metal grate before turning off the front lights. You could never be too safe, after all. You made your way back to the counter and grabbed the tall metal hook to bring the leather top down. He had good taste. This was one of your favorites.

Simple, yet effective.

You placed the metal rod back and walked to the fitting rooms, heels clacking on the hardwood. You always liked to wear heels. They gave you a sense of power, even though no one could see them under the maxi-length dress. It was like announcing your presence.

Your hand grasped the red velvet curtain and pulled back, revealing an awkward-looking Jungkook. He was picking at the peach fuzz on his face in the floor length mirrors. You blinked at him and he pulled away from the mirror quickly. He saw the top on your hands and gulped.

“Sorry, I–”

You cut him off. “Remove your shirt.”

Jungkook looked down. “R-right.”

You watched his fingers fumble with the tiny buttons of his navy dress shirt. He had long fingers, large hands. Small tattoos on his right hand. Lightly tanned skin, toned chest, dark nipples, sculpted abs. The silky fabric slid off his right shoulder. Tattooed arm as well. He slipped out of the other sleeve and held his shirt awkwardly in his hands. You indicated the hook to his left with your free hand. He swallowed and placed his shirt on the hook. His black pants were very tight. You could see his muscular thighs and calves.

Interesting.

“Move the ottoman to the center,” you said softly. There was an edge of command to your voice.

Jungook spied the black leather ottoman in the corner and gently pushed it to the center of the dressing room. He looked back up at you for approval.

“Sit.”

He did, but facing you. You smiled, just a little.

“Face the mirrors, Jungkook.”

There was an inflection on your tone when you said his name. He started and scooted around, facing the three floor-length mirrors. You could see Jungkook’s nervous expression in the mirror and he could see you standing behind him at the entrance of the dressing room. You pulled the curtain closed behind you as you stepped in.

Now you two were alone, in the red velvet room.

You calmly removed the hanger from the leather top. “Raise your arms.”

He did. He had nice forearms and biceps. Even his triceps were nice.

You unzipped the back. Jungkook was watching you closely. You separated the zipper and reached around him, placing one sleeve on and then the other. Your chest was very close to his back but not touching. You placed two fingers around his wrist and yanked the leather down, making sure the fit was smug. Jungkook gasped. You did the same to his other hand before backing up and rolling the sleeves up. He shivered as the steel ring touched his skin, flush against his sternum. You had to pull a bit to fit his broad shoulders in it. The top could accommodate some stretch, but it was a little tight due to his build. Your eyes flickered to his face. He seemed fine with it.

Maybe a little too fine with it.

You zipped the back, careful not to catch his hair in it. Jungkook peered at his flipper hands and flapped the straps. He smiled. You almost did, but instead cleared your throat. He straightened.

“So,” you began, voice dropping an octave. “The nice thing about this top is that it can be fastened two ways.” You reached around him and took his left arm, crossing it over his right arm, over his stomach. Your hands lingered on the straps for a moment before snapping them behind him with the proper tightness. Restraining, but not circulation-cutting. You looked up. The position made his pecs push together and his biceps bugle against the leather. Jungkook gawked at his body in the mirror, eyes wide as if seeing himself for the first time. You could see his dark nipples harden.

Hm.

“And,” you continued calmly, unsnapping the straps. “It can be done this way.”

You undid the snaps and maneuvered his arms to cross them behind his back. A few steps and you were in front of him, slipping the straps under the steel ring and pulling them taut. He inhaled sharply as you touched his hot skin. Quick few adjustments and you were done.

You let your eyes trail to his face.

Jungkook’s brown eyes were quivering, staring at you.

You moved out of the way and let him see himself. Now his chest stuck out a bit due to his arms pinned behind him, forcing him to arch his back. Jungkook tilted his head, tugging at the restraint. He flexed his muscles. It didn’t budge. His lips parted. Curls of dark hair framed his wide, inquisitive eyes. He looked at himself in every angle, the confidence evident in his features.

You stood about a foot behind him, hands behind your back. He caught your eye and blushed, looking to the floor.

“Like what you see?”

One, two, three seconds passed. Then he barely nodded, not making a noise.

“Jungkook.”

He looked up slowly, chewing on his lip.

“Tell me how you feel.”

You could tell he was struggling with lying or telling the truth. You waited patiently.

“I feel… sexy,” he said, quietly at first, but with added sureness as he looked at himself in the mirror. “I really love it.” His eyes shifted towards you. You could see them sparkling with gratefulness. “Thank you.”

The side of your lips curved upwards. You took a step towards him. Your hand curved around his head, hovering just under his chin. “You don’t have to thank me,” you murmured, making eye contact through the mirror. Those brown orbs full of wonder and open possibilities. The mole under his lips trembling as they parted. Your other hand pointed to his reflection, where he looked at himself once again.

“Look how pretty you are, Jungkook.”

He whimpered.

You heard it. Jungkook heard it. You blinked slowly. His teeth sunk into his lower lip. Your hand was still under his chin, not touching. Gradually, very deliberately, he lowered his head, right into your palm. You observed him through the mirror. He rolled his hips, ever so slightly. The tight black fabric molded to his obvious erection, revealing everything.

You dropped your head a few centimeters lower, lips against his ear. Eyes still on his.

“Jungkook, I’m the shopkeeper,” you breathed.

He nodded in your palm, breath hitching. You tucked your tongue in your cheek. His breathing was getting heavier. You pulled your hand back, against his neck. He gasped as your fingertips touched his skin, your index and middle on his pulse. It was racing.

“I know,” he pleaded, so quietly you barely heard him.

You breathed deeply. “Wouldn’t this be your first… encounter?”

He nodded, short, quick nods of his head. You waited.

“P-please…”

Shit.

His voice was a whisper, fear mixed with arousal. “I know you won’t… laugh at me.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Your hand slipped down the leather. “You’re right,” you murmured. “I won’t.”

His bangs shrouded his eyes a little, but he was watching your every move. Watching your fingertips trace the steel ring, watching your hand splay across his chest, whimpering as you touched his skin. You kept your eyes on his as he watched you stroke his abs, tracing the muscles.

“Look at you, handsome boy.”

His ears turned red at the compliment. You smiled, just a little. Your other hand snaked up his side, making him gasp. Your hands roamed over his body, his tanned skin, his taut muscles. He moaned softly, music to your ears. Your thumbs slid up, pressing against his nipples. Jungkook trembled as you rubbed them slowly, exhaling lightly onto his earlobe.

“Pretty boy,” you whispered, “No one is allowed to call you weak.” Your breathing was getting heavier, heated against his skin. “What a beautiful body.”

You pinched the small nubs tightly. He groaned, bucking into your hands. You let your nail graze against them and he jerked into it, sinking your nail into his skin. His head lolled back, leaning against your shoulder.

“You can take a little more?” you asked, pressing a little harder.

“P-please…”

You pinched again, harder. He really moaned this time, loud and clear. You pinched again, twisted. His eyes slid closed, thrusting his hips in his pants. You placed a soft kiss on his neck as you rubbed his nipples roughly. They were turning a little red. Jungkook was leaning against you and you supported his weight, planting your feet solidly on the ground. You flicked his nipples repeatedly with the back of your nail until he was squirming against you, dragging your name out in long moans.

You could feel wetness pooling between your legs.

You stopped, sinking your nails into his chest and raking down, down. Jungkook gasped in pain, lurching forward. You scraped down his torso, ripping your hands away sharply. He whimpered, panting hard. Swiftly, you moved in front of him to push the ottoman out from under him. He pitched forward, knees hitting the hardwood. You held him up until he straightened, kneeling.

His black slacks were very, very tight.

You moved back to your position behind him, sitting down on the ottoman. You spread your legs and scooted forward so your chest touched his back, making him shudder. You pressed your covered breasts up against him. Jungkook was staring at the ground. You impatiently reached forward and yanked his chin up.

“Don’t look away,” you warned.

He gulped. “O-okay.”

His dark, curled hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat. You pushed it aside gently, revealing his forehead, placing your lips softly on the top of his head. He made a small noise, appeased. Your fingers slid down his torso, tracing the scratches you had made. Pink, lightly raised. You traced the waist of his pants, playing with the button. Made eye contact with him.

“What are you hiding down here?” you purred, teasing the button from its hole. You could feel his chest rise and fall sharply as you pulled the zipper down, down. The bulge slid out slowly, now unconstrained by the zipper. You traced the outline with your nail and Jungkook whined, thrusting his hips lightly in your hand.

“Nice and hard, all for me?” You licked his earlobe ever so slightly.

Jungkook moaned as you palmed him, pushing his slacks down. “Yes. Oh, god, yes.”

You pressed your lips against his ear. Made sure to add a hardness to your words, like poisoned honey.

“There is no god here. Only me.”

You dipped your hand underneath the waistband and grasped his cock. Jungkook gasped, arms straining against the leather. You used your other hand to push down his underwear as you freed his cock and balls, your fingers wandering over them, cupping him. You massaged his balls, squeezing them, before dancing your fingertips on his cock. You nudged his head so he could watch you in the mirror.

“What a perfect cock waiting for me.”

Jungkook moaned, pupils blown wide with lust. His eyes darted from his face, to the leather top, to the reddening scratches on his stomach, to your hand on his cock. He rolled his hips in your hand, trying to get more friction. You took pity on him, wrapping your hand around his thick cock. It felt nice, you against his hard stiffness, veins pressing against your palm. He thrust his hips into your hand and you let him. You watched him fuck your hand, precum glistening from the head of his cock.

With your free hand, you hooked a finger around a stray strand of hair, tucking it behind his ear as he continued rutting into your hand. You placed your lips against his ear.

“Aren’t you a desperate, needy boy?” you purred.

“Y-yes,” Jungkook panted. “Yes, I am.”

You tightened your grip a little and he groaned, eyes rolling into his head as he thrust harder. You let him go on, until his breathing became shallow, tight, brows furrowed in pleasure.

Then you squeezed the head of his cock, hard.

He squealed in protest; orgasm cut short. You spread the pre-cum over the head, roughly. He whined, pressing his back against you, tears clinging to his eyes. You rubbed the angry red head, carefully but firmly, earning a choked sob of your name.

“P-please…”

You pressed your lips against his jaw. “Shh.” You only intended on edging him once. If he continued acting like this, you might go full dom on him. You needed to be in control of yourself, for his sake. One by one, you wrapped your fingers around his cock again, this time dictating the pace. Your hand was slick with his pre-cum, adding to the pleasure. You kept the grip solid and tight, making sure to rub just under the head. His eyelids fluttered, moans filling up the store.

“What if someone hears you, Jungkook?” you mumbled against his shoulder, smirking. He cracked his eyes open as you continued jacking him off, fast and hard. His breathing was in short, rapid pants.

“Don’t care,” he whined, eyes fixated on his reflection and his cock pumping in your hand. “Wanna cum so bad, just for you.”

Jungkook, please, you thought, inhaling deeply. He smelled like fresh laundry and pre-cum. Delicious.

“Please… please let me cum for you.”

How could you not give in to his sweet pleas, his eyes finding yours, begging you so earnestly? You increased your pace.

‘You going to cum for me, handsome boy?” you growled. “I’m going to make you cum all over this mirror, all over your pretty reflection.”

Jungkook was becoming a moaning, ruined mess in your hands as you went harder, faster, tighter. His entire body jolted and he threw his head back, screaming your name hoarsely as he came, long, thick strings of white splattering across the mirror. You sucked in a breath, jerking his cock so it shot in different directions. All over his reflection, until it dribbled against the hardwood, dripping fat drops onto the ground.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Jungkook,” you breathed, marveling at the cum sliding down the mirror.

Jungkook slid down, head between your covered breasts. His chest was heaving, hair stuck to his face, lips dry. He nestled against you comfortably. Your hand was covered in cum and a few drops fell onto his muscular thigh.

“I-I’m sorry…” he gasped, cheeks turning pink. “I made a mess.”

You chuckled, petting his hair.

“I’ll just make you clean it with your tongue.”

He whipped his head towards you, but you were smirking at him. You winked.

“Just kidding.”

-

part ii.

--

masterpost

[theysayitscrazy]

Eliminated Part 2 (NSFW)

FanFic Friday Week 4 (Slightly Late) @rebelwrites​

Clay Spenser x Reader (Reader is Full Metal’s sister)

Let me know if you wanna be tagged when I post.

You stare at the invitation with mild contempt. It was overly shiny and sparkly, and covered in glitter. It was just plain gaudy. The amount of pink included should be outlawed. You hated this time of your 20’s. Everyone you knew was either getting married, buying houses, or having babies. Yet, you were still single. You chose your career, over a relationship. Well, according to your ex, that’s what happened.

In reality, you grew apart and lived different lives while struggling to make things work. In the end, they hadn’t worked out, and the problem had to be eliminated.

That had been a year ago. Now you were thirty years old, single, and too focused on your career to even meet a guy outside the office. And the dating world had gone digital in the last decade, leaving you completely out of the loop on where to even begin. The idea of meeting a guy from the internet left you unsettled and turned off.

You sigh and toss the envelope on the bar in front of you and reach for your drink.

Your phone chirps and you reach for it as someone sits in the seat next to you at the bar. Annoyed, you look up from your phone to give whoever it was that decided they needed to sit so close to you in an empty bar, a piece of your mind, only to find the blond haired and blue-eyed charmer known as Clay Spenser.

“Spenser,” you acknowledge.

He leans forward on the bar and motions for the bartender. He orders a beer and then snatches up the invitation. “Holy pinkness,” he chuckles.

You roll your eyes as you skim over the email you just received from a client.

“Always working?” Clay asks.

You glance up from your phone and realize you’re being rude. Sighing, you turn off the screen and set your phone down. “Usually,” you grumble in response.

Clay’s smile is easy, but you can see the way he’s watching you, like he’s reading your mood. “Bad day?” he asks.

“Yes… no… I don’t know.” You sigh and take a pull off your glass.

Clay chuckles again. “I’ve never known you to not have an answer.”

You shake your head and look down at your phone as a text message chirps through. You can feel Clay’s eyes on you, like they usually are, but you ignore him, like you usually do. Ever since that night at your brother’s house, when your ex had been eliminated, things had gotten interesting between the two of you.

The flirting was fun. But that’s all it was. Fun, right? He worked with you brother, he was younger than you, if only by a couple years, but he felt… wholesome. He wasn’t tainted like you were.

Before you can answer the string of text messages that came thru, your phone rings. When Harvey’s face pops up the screen you frown and debate answering it. You were done with him for the day. You groan and answer the facetime call. “Hey.”

Harvey’s smirk is annoying as he looks you over.

You rolled your eyes, knowing what he saw. White pinstripe halter stop that buttoned down the middle and showed ample cleavage but stayed professional. The black matching suit coat was off and draped around the back of the bar stool, so your vibrant black and watercolor tattoos that covered both arms were on display and contrasted against your professional attire.

“You need something?” you raise an eyebrow at him, waiting for his sardonic comments to start rolling in.

“Yeah, for you to get your head out of your ass. Let me guess, you’re at some dive bar, drink in hand, wallowing self-pity,” Harvey shoots at you as he levels you with a typical Specter head tilt.

You narrow your eyes at him as Clay chuckles.

“Boo hoo, your last college sorority sister is getting married. What do you care? You haven’t talked to the chick in two years. Put your big girl panties on and man up. I need you to meet a client.”

You pick up your drink and stare Harvey down as you toss back the remnants of the straight whiskey.

Harvey smirks, “We both know you can handle your liquor. So why don’t you take that SEAL team hot shot you got eating out of the palm of your hand and go meet the client. I’ll text you the address. It’s in Rochester.”

“Harvey, that’s an hour away and it’s a shitty neighborhood,” you shoot back him.

Harvey smirks. “Good thing you’ll have a bodyguard. Oh, and another thing. Get laid.” He hangs up the phone.

You let out a frustrated growl and slam the phone on the bar top.

Clay turns his big body towards you and smirks. “Need a bodyguard?”

You glare at him and grab your keys off the bar. You slide off the barstool and grab your black pinstripe jacket off the back. You take your time pulling it on. Clay’s eyes are on you. Once things are buttoned in place, your black jacket matching your black pants, you look up to meet Clay’s gaze and raise an eyebrow at him.

He smirks and lets his gaze wander over your body. He no longer hides his blatant attraction for you, and while he’s yet to act on it, he’s stared in many of your fantasy’s. How’d he get you off with those deft fingers. That scruffy beard adding pleasure as he ran kisses down your body.

His smirk widens, as if he can read your dirty thoughts. You keep your face indifferent though. You play it off with a roll of your eyes.

“I’ll drive,” he comments and holds out his hand.

You stare at those fingers before you think fuck it and hand over the keys to your Range Rover. You ignore him and turn toward the exist.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asks.

Confused you glance at him over your shoulder and groan when he’s holding up the pink wedding invitation. He laughs and looks at it. “It’s pretty horrible.”

“She an old sorority sister,” you sigh with a shrug. “She’s…bubbly.”

“I can’t believe you were ever in a sorority,” Clay sniggers. “Not Miss tattooed, ‘Punk Rock Princess over here.’ Miss, ‘I’ll eliminate any threats to my person.’”

You roll again and turn toward the door. “Bitch please,” you shook back at him. “I’m a God Damn Queen.”

~*~

“That was not what I was expecting,” Clay murmured when he pulled in your brother’s driveway, several hours later.

You glance over at him. He’d been quiet the entire drive back from the client’s house. “My job isn’t always mergers and acquisitions,” you state, knowing where his head was at. “Sure, they pay the bills and I’m damn good at it. But this, is why I became a lawyer. People like Carl Terron. People who were taken advantage of and used and degraded, and in the end lost everything. This case could be the case that changes laws and sets precedents, so that something like what happed to Terron, doesn’t happen to anyone else again. This case could help save lives.”

Clay turned to you during your passionate speech and watched you. When you stopped speaking, he reached out with his large hand and cupped the side of your face.

You freeze. For as much the two of you had been flirting for the past year, he’d never made a move before. His blazing blue eyes bore into yours. His intensity stirs something deep inside you. You wait, watching him, like a deer in the headlights.

His fingers curl around the back of your head as his calloused thumb caresses your cheek.

“Clay,” you say, not really sure why you’re stopping this.

He drops his hand almost instantly and you immediately miss the warmth of his palm. Pain flashes across his eyes, or regret maybe? “I’m sorry,” he sighs, and looks out the front window. “I know you’re still dealing with last year. I shouldn’t have come on so strong.”

“It’s not that,” you sigh, playing with the several rings on your fingers.

“Then what is it?” Clay asks, looking over at you, hurt still evident in his eyes.

His pain strikes you and you reach out and take his hand in yours. “I’m being stupid.” You play with those deft fingers in yours, and a blush tints your cheeks as you think of all your fantasies that those fingers played a staring role in.

“That’s a lie. You’re one of the smartest people I know,” Clay says and squeezes your fingers between his. “What’s going on with you today?”

You look up, startled, and find yourself staring into his endless baby blues. “What do you mean?” you ask, confused.

“I mean, you’re not yourself. Yeah, at client’s house you put on a good show, but before that, at the bar… now? What’s going on with you?” His gaze is piercing, and you find yourself at a loss for words.

You open your mouth, trying to find the words, when a knock on the window behind Clay startles you. “Shit!” you shriek and jump a mile out of your seat.

Clay turns, and you see your brother looming through the driver’s side window, flashlight shining in on you. You reach across the center console and lean over Clay’s big body and press the button for the window. “What the fuck?” you yell at Scott.

“What the fuck you doin out here?” Metal’s voice is deep and commanding.

“Sitting in the fuckin car, what’s it look like we’re doing? Jesus fucking Christ. What the fuck you out here for?” Your anger kicks up.

“It’s my house. I’m allowed to wonder why my baby sister is sitting in the dark in her car late at night. Where the fuck ya been? It’s past midnight,” Metal demands.

Pissed, you climb over the center console and get right into Clay’s lap. “Shit,” he groans and holds his arms out in surrender as you climb fully into his lap.

You ignore him as you settle onto his powerful thighs and get in your brother’s face through the window. “Why the fuck is it any of your business where the fuck I’ve been? Cut the shit Scott. I’m thirty fucking years old. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, and you can fuck off,” you shout at him.

Scott laughs and you roll your eyes. “Spenser though, really?”

“Fuck yeah, and fuck you,” you shout back him, a smirk on your face.

“Fuck you,” Scott grumbles and heads for the house.

When Scott was gone, you let out a chuckle and lean into Clay. You find yourself tucked against him, your head on his shoulder, in the crook of his neck. “Hold me,” you murmur into his ear.

His arms come around you in a tight embrace and cradles you against his warm body. You’re curled against his chest and for the first time in who knew how many years, you finally felt safe. He is solid and broad and strong, and you relish the feeling of being in his arms.

You take a deep breath, breathing in his scent and close your eyes. He smells like home.

“Y/n, what was that about?” Clay asks softly.

You shake your head, not wanting to break the moment. He’s so warm, so safe.

Clay’s large hand slides up your back and his fingers card through your hair.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” you ask, before he can say anything.

Clay stills, his hand fisted in your hair. “No. Why would you think that?”

“Before… you had asked me what was going on with me today,” you murmur into his neck, finding it easier to speak without looking at him.

His hand not fisted into your chignon, rubs idle circles on your back. Calming… soothing. “Does this have to do with your ex?” he asks.

You nod slowly. “He was friends with all my friends in college. We met our freshman year. We had all the same friends. So that Wedding invitation just brought up a bunch of old memories, both good and bad,” you sigh.

Clay’s fingers massage your scalp as he holds you tight against him. “No, I don’t think you’re a bad person,” he finally answers. “I think you’re strong and fierce and aren’t afraid to stand up for yourself. You can take care of yourself and others and eliminate any problems that comes your way.”

You find yourself smiling against his neck. You pull back to look him in the eyes. There’s a seriousness in his blazing blue eyes that you hadn’t seen before. It makes you pause and take him in, really take him in. For all the flirting and banter the two of you had thrown back and forth for the past year, you hadn’t really stopped to consider how fucking real he was.

There was a raw honesty in those baby blues that grasped at your heartstrings and pulled. What you had mistaken as wholesome, was in actuality, genuine and real. You were surrounded by fake people on the daily, but Clay Spenser, was as real as they came.

You reach up and run your fingers through his scruffy beard. It was softer than you expect. His eyes are on your face, watching your every move. It’s clear by his cautious gaze, he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

So, you do. You lean forward, lacing your fingers through his beard and pull his mouth down to yours at the same time. His fingers tighten in your hair, and you gasp as he pulls your hair so deliciously. He takes advantage of your gasp and his tongue sweeps in. Your eyes drift close as the kiss turns more passionate.

You shift against him and realize your pencil skirt is ridiculous and not cooperating. You groan when he nibbles on your bottom lip. You try to pull away, but he’s got a firm grip in your hair, so you whimper against his lips.

His chuckle has your eyes opening. His eyes are watching you while he bites down just a bit harder. His hand slides up your thigh and under your pencil skirt with ease. You whimper again and let your eyes fall close. He releases your lip, so you use his beard to pull his mouth back to yours. “Uh uh, baby,” he murmurs against your lips.

You snap open your eyes again, and he’s smirking down at you. “Bu-”

“Shh,” he whispers. “Trust me?”

You gasp slightly and your eyes go wide. The earnestness in his gaze has you nodding though. It’s reluctant and slow, and Clay seems to get that. He presses a soft kiss to your lips before he whispers, “Close your eyes.”

And you do. You rest your head in the crook of his neck and let him take care of you.

His hands work magic on your body. One slides down and manages to undo the clasp and zipper at the back of your pencil skirt while his other hand slides up your thigh to your core and he chuckles when he finds the lack of panties. “Naughty, naughty,” he murmurs.

You smirk and place an open-mouthed kiss to the column of his neck.

The sharp pinch to your inner thigh has you jumping and groaning. “None of that,” he orders, his voice deep.

You let out a pathetic whimper and give into him. His deft finger’s part your folds and he chuckles again, “So wet for me, baby.”

He takes his time sliding one long and thick finger all the way to the knuckle and you part your thighs as much as the now unzipped pencil skirt will allow. He slides in a second finger, and you groan. God his fingers are thick. God damn, do they feel good.

His thumb circles your clit almost teasingly and you thrust your hips up to try and get some friction from it. The pinch to your nipple comes as a surprise and you let out a low groan. “Be good.” Clay commands, softly.

You run your hand through his beard and slide it to the back of his head, curling your fingers in his curls.

His pace is brutal and you’re barely holding on when his mouth covers yours and he says, “Come for me,” against your lips.

You shatter into a million pieces in the front seat of your Range Rover. “Good girl,” Clay’s voice is rough and deep and has you opening your eyes. He watching you with a reverent smile on his lips.

You grin and use his beard to pull his mouth to yours again. His fingers in your cunt swirl again and let out a low groan. “Wanna come inside?” you ask.

He chuckles and swirls his fingers again. “I thought I already was.”

You close your eyes and let out a little whimper. “The house Clay.”

“Your brother gonna kill me?”

“Nah, I’ll deal with Scott.”

“Gonna eliminate him?”

“I’m gonna eliminate you if you don’t finish what you started.” His rich laugh puts a smile on your face, and you have a thought. “Hey, you wanna go to a wedding with me?”

“Do I have to wear a tie?”

Your eyes snap open to take in his goofy face and grin. “Only if you wanna use it to tie me up later,” you smirk at him.

He grins wickedly and curls his fingers inside you, sending you over the edge again.

[tenmillionwhumperflies]

Flint Sterling (Cloudwalker Series)

Alright, you can all have a Flint. Let me know what you think of him! :) This is set a fair bit further along in the story (like a year). Word Count: little under 2000.

Warnings: Uh not much, contains biting, abduction/ restraints, a kinda intimate whumper for a few moments and a dirty joke. Yeah, I think that’s it. Avizon is trying to be intimidating but it’s a bit difficult with Flint’s dumbassery.

Picrew for Flint here

Avizon tossed and turned in his sleep. He knew something was amiss. He could feel it, enough to wake him. He dressed quickly and went to find his cloudwalkers, to check on them. He needed to know they were safe. Dyan was still fast asleep when he opened the door, but Ihuka was awake, feathers fluffed up and ready to attack… something. Ihuka snarled at him, but stopped as recognition struck.

Avizon put a finger to his lips, telling him to be quiet. He opened the door wider and let him pass “Search,” he whispered. Ihuka disappeared down the corridors, sniffing the air. Avizon turned to Dyan, who was waking. “Be prepared, I fear there is an intruder. Stay here.”

Avizon closed the door and went after Ihuka, hoping that he was wrong, that there was no one here. For one thing, Avizon should have been able to feel their presence, but it wasn’t as clear as usual. It was blurred, far away, hard to aim at.

Whatever it was, he could only hope it wasn’t dangerous.

Ihuka had heard the great clattering of something in a room, even if it was far away. He wasn’t sure if they had just fallen by themselves, but when his master came to his room, he knew it wasn’t just him that was worried. His feathers were fluffed to make him look bigger, his teeth were bared. “Search.” Had been his master’s order, and so he did, hurrying after the source of the noise to be sure the castle was safe.

He found a man stuffing a sack full of shiny things, expensive things. That wasn’t allowed! They belonged to his master! Ihuka silently flew up to the ceiling of the ball room, using his height to stay hidden until he was directly above the man. Then he swooped down, just as he would for a hunt. He grabbed the man by the arms and lifted him into the air.

He screamed loudly, and in a higher pitch than Ihuka had expected, making him accidentally drop him. He wasn’t far off the ground, so he fell with a thud. “What the fuck are you?” he cried, eyes wide with fear. He scrambled back and tried to get up to run away but Ihuka pounced again landing on his back, pinning him down. “Get off me!” he yelped. “No, no, no! I don’t have time for this- get off me, you oversized pigeon! Back! Sit! Oh, come on!” Ihuka was struggling to hold him, but his master soon appeared to see what he caught.

“Good bird,” he said with a smirk. “Very good bird.”

Ihuka beamed, but he had to focus on the wriggling man. He was strong, but Ihuka wouldn’t let him go.

Avizon watched him for a moment and remarked, “Are you finished, thief?”

The man stopped struggling, panting, and Ihuka slowly relaxed. A mistake. As soon as he did the man used a gush of energy to throw him off.

No, Ihuka was not going to lose him. With a yap, he jumped on him again and bit him on the back of his shoulder.

“Ow!” he yelped. “Ihuka, back!” Avizon ordered calmly. “I doubt he’ll be able to get far now.”

The man groaned and tried to crawl forward, toward the window. Avizon stepped on his back, pushing him down with one foot. "You're either a fool, or incredibly brave to dare come here. I haven't decided which yet," he murmured. Ihuka watched him and tilted his head, licking the blood off his lips. Human blood wasn’t the best. He much preferred the meat from rabbits and deer, even from the cattle his master gave him

“T.that… is rude,” the man slurred, “C.could have at least bought me a drink first...”

Avizon rolled his eyes, “Oh, you’re one of the brave jokers,” he mumbled. "I've made up my mind. You're a fool. Ihuka, go and get the antidote. I want this one alive.” Ihuka frowned, but did so. When he returned with a bottle which he was sure was it if his letters were right, he found his master had tied the stranger up. His hands were behind his back but tied to that his arms were crossed and kept together, his wrists at the opposite elbow. And his ankles were tied to his thighs. 

Avizon picked him up like he were a hay bale and dropped him onto a chaise. He took the bottle from Ihuka, checked it, and praised him. Praise always made him happy, it made him as giddy as the liquorice root he ate. He knelt and waited for Avizon to force the unconscious man to drink it. Ihuka was glad he'd brought a pipette now. It made things a little easier.

"Well then, now our guest isn't dying, I fully intend to go back to sleep. Go back to bed, Ihuka, it's safe now. You did very well, I am proud of you. You've earned a reward tomorrow."

"Thank you, master," he peeped.

_____

Avizon watched Ihuka leave and then turned his attention back to the thief. He was a pretty thing, he had to admit. With lush red hair and emerald green eyes that had stared so wildly at him. The white line of face paint beneath his eyes seemed to pull even more attention to them. He smirked, he wasn’t used to thieves being so bonnie-faced.

Avizon was able to see, now that he was still, that he had a small part of the top of his left ear missing as if it had been bitten or cut perhaps. That didn't stop him from wearing an earring in his ear lobe. Perhaps a piercing had been the cause of the injury. He had a scar on his freckle-covered cheek and small shaved lines in his eyebrow.

Speaking of injuries, he would have to treat the wound Ihuka had left. He went to collect some salves and turned the thief onto his side. He rolled his shirt up to apply it. He paused seeing a tattoo, and not just any. This was a magic tattoo, a rune of protection, invisibility. No wonder he'd struggled to locate him. To most magic users he'd have been untraceable, but he was more powerful. Still, this was an ancient rune. He hadn't seen this for a very long time. "The Northern Mountains… you are a very long way from home, thief," he mumbled.

The wound was small, and with the salve, it soon stopped the bleeding, acting almost like a seal. It would do. He wanted him alive, but that didn't mean he particularly cared about him. As long as the venom didn't kill him that would be enough.

So Avizon used his powers to lift him and carried him downstairs to the old dungeons. They'd been empty for a long time, but it seemed they still had their uses. He put the thief in a cleaner cell, leaving him on the old stale bed and untied his legs before leaving, locking the door behind him. He heard the thief groan, but he paid it no attention. He was going back to bed.

_______

Avizon woke early but he felt rested enough to go downstairs, check on his birds and serve them their breakfast. He ate his own meal and only then did he go to the dungeons.

It seemed he'd timed it well; the thief was only just starting to wake up.

"Ow…" he mumbled, still half asleep. "Shoulders… what…" "Wake up, thief," he called impatiently. The man yelped in alarm and tried to turn over, succeeding in falling off the bed with a painful thunk. "Ow…"

Avizon couldn't suppress a smirk. He watched the man turn onto his back and strain to sit up. He paused, seeing him standing there.

"Um… hello?" he gulped. "Don't suppose you feel like untying me? Not the most comfortable thing in the world."

"And why should I untie the man who tried to steal from me?" Avizon raised an eyebrow. "Do you even know where you are? Who I am?" The thief stood up with difficulty. "You don't have wings like those other things so I'll wager you're human- and very good at tying knots," he grunted trying to wiggle out of the bindings.

"Those 'things' happen to be cloudwalkers, and they deserve the respect of a human. Then again, you are from the Northern Mountains. Cloudwalkers aren't native to that land," he grumbled.

"H.How did you know that?" he gulped. "Your tattoo." "My… oh. Right. Magic people tend to know about magic things…"

Avizon struggled to hide his smile. It was strange seeing someone so naive near him. He appreciated the change, but this man needed to know who he was dealing with. He needed to fear him as everyone else did. He wasn’t used to talking to anyone any differently.

"An astounding deduction. What's your name, thief?"

"Ma always taught me not to share my name with people who could kill me, sorry," he answered warily. "Even if I untied you?" Avizon raised an eyebrow. He thought for a minute. "That's… fair."

Avizon opened the cell door, watching as the man stuck his chest up, raising his chin.

He grabbed him by the arm and turned him around, pinning him against the wall with a hand on the back of his neck. “Steady on!” he exclaimed, but Avizon ignored him. He kept his focus on the knots, unpicking them and unravelling some of the rope but not all of it. “Well?” Avizon said. “The name’s Flint Stirling, I’d call myself a master thief, but I’d feel a bit stupid considering you’ve caught me… Who are you then?”

Avizon smirked. He grabbed the two ends of the rope and pulled them tight in one hand, while the other reached around, grabbing Flint by the neck and jaw, pulling his head up close to his. Flint froze, but Avizon could practically hear him thinking, planning, scheming.

Avizon leaned in close to his ear, “I believe in the north they call this castle the Palace of Everblood, the place where the rivers flow red...” Avizon felt the man stiffen in his grip, felt him try to get his arms free, and he couldn’t help but get some satisfaction out of it. He felt him gulp in his hand. The bottled up panic.

He leaned in a little closer. “Ah, familiar with the name? I wonder what stories made it so far north.” Flint shuddered in his grip. “I am Avizon the Terrible, killer of Royals, destroyer of Kingdoms. And you had the gall to try to steal from me.” Flint gulped, “How silly of me,” he murmured, his breath hitching. Avizon saw him grit his teeth. “That a knife in your pocket or are you enjoying yourself, Mr Terrible?”

Avizon was unable to hold back a splutter. He had not expected for him to say that. Avizon couldn’t lie, he enjoyed holding him, having that control, but it had been becoming too intimate and now far too awkward. He shoved him away in disgust.

“It was liquorice root, thank you very much,“ he retorted. He couldn’t quite find his words. This one had courage, that was for sure. “This time, I will let you go free. Let it be known, Flint, that no unspeakable amount of money is worth even a drop of life. Don’t waste yours.”

He stepped back and allowed Flint to wiggle out of the rest of the ropes and cautiously walked past him to the door. “Tell me,” Avizon said, unable to resist the question. “What did you plan to steal from me last night?”

Flint hesitated at the doorway. “Anything I could get my hands on… Let’s just say I’m in a lot of… debt.”

Avizon inclined his head. “You might find work in the village.” Avizon hoped he took the hint that he wasn’t welcome to stay here. “Is there nothing I can do for you here? Please, there has to be something. I’m desperate-”

Avizon shook his head. “Go. Out the door, up the stairs and then left. Be grateful you’re leaving with your life.” Flint’s posture deflated. “Yeah… lucky me.”

Avizon frowned, but decided against arguing with him. He let him leave and assumed that would be the last he'd see of him. He sighed to himself. He was getting too soft.

So yeah, lemme know what you think of the boyfriend to be XD

[whaleofatjme1920]

Hello El!!

I bring my exchange info for an matchup. If say creepypasta/marblehornets matchup for this.

So my name is Shay, I go by Whiskey because it's a preference in liquor on my end. I go by they/them pronouns, AFAB and I'm bi and omniromantic, I do have an mild preference for men or masc aligned people. I'm a Libra sun, Virgo moon and Aquarius rising. I'm also introvert (INFJ-A) and I'm constantly sleeply. I do have C-PSTD, Bipolar II and GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder).

I'm Caucasian/White and I stand at 5'9. I have celtic and Danish heritage, My family where vikings. I'm really tall and legs double the size of my torso, as in my thighs are as big as my torso in length, same with my calves. I call myself spider legs because of that. I have this natural like wolf cut going on that is this dark green with my roots be my natural dark chocolate brown hair. My eyes are hazel with gold flecks that shift in color which I found out is normal for people with hazel eyes. I paint my nails black a lot because I find the color pleasing. My build wise is like a rectangle like shape with broad shoulders. I'm pretty strong and I'm proud of my strength. I'm currently starting to get into shape and lose weight so I have fit shape but not like over for. Just the right amount of fat over my muscles. I have a lot of stretch marks,, mostly around my waist and my biceps. I call them my stripes or lighting marks. I have plans to get snake bite piercings and wear like the ring ones in them. I'm getting an tattoo soon that is like this and then I want a burning match tattoo on my color bone. My ears are piercing and I like wearing fake gauges, spirals and then the ratings that have the dangly stuff and cuffs with them. I also wear like those stereotypical hot topic chokers. I wear a lot of long sleeves and skinny jeans, I do like ripped skinny jeans. I also love flannels and black boots like doc martins or converse.

I think you can assume by the statement of me liking whiskey I am the rebellious sort which is true. I have drank a bit and tried weed, I don't do it anymore tho.I have been told if people don't know me and see me from afar I'm intimidating to approach. Even being spooky and intimidating, I promise I'm just a big softie. I usually assume the mom friend of the group with my friends. I always worry about them and make sure they take care of themselves. Sometimes I do it so much I forget to take care of myself. I'm really gentle and compassionate, along with being extremely empathetic. I can be stubborn and bit judgemental at times, mostly working off first impressions myself when getting to know each other. I have an hard time being insertive and putting my foot down with my boundaries, scared to lose people even if the hurt me. I'm an introvert through and through, liking to watch from the back and observe the way things go on around me. I do my best to be an optimist because I can't see the point in see everything wrong in this world, it helps me to see the good. I love going on adventures with my close friends and love being a chaotic bastard with them. My dnd alignment is chaotic neutral and I'm Hufflepuff. I do live by the saying do no harm but take no shit. But I won't hesitate to fight someone for the right causes.

I do always constantly look like I am going to funeral of some sort because I own nothing but black. The color makes me feel really comfortable but it's not my favorite color. My favorite color is green but I like sage green, forest green, mossy green, etc. The earthy greens are my favorites. I have a love for the forest and woodlands, finding a sense of home in the woods. I do love archery and something I'm definitely going to be picking up along with playing the drums. I also smoke herbal cigarettes as well as alternative to smoking.

You know that I often get called a cryptid and at this point, I am just one. Cryptidcore, Midwest Gothic, and Pacific Northwest Gothic are my favorite aesthetics. I have a huge love for cryptozoology (the study of cryptids), parapsychology (the psychic phenomena and other paranormal claims), original creepypasta stories and to be honest anything like spooky and creepy. I want to be a mortician and I'm attending school for that. I also really love the dark, especially if I have some good music blasting through my earbuds. I am a sucker for long road trips and seeing things, filling the adventure heart I have. My favorite animals are coyotes and I also like horses. I like to write a lot as well. My favorite cryptids are The Beast of Bray Road, Not Deer, Jersey Devil and Jacklopes.

Thank you so much and I'm so glad I got a chance to reach out to you. It all started with me wanting to send memes to you and being a little 🌲 anon.

Also here is what the tattoo I'm am getting done looks like ↓↓↓

Your matchup is... Jeff!

Sorry this took me a hot minute, I've been out all day! But here's my part of the exchange :}

In general:

Alright, I read this over and just immediately thought about Jeff, mostly because of your personality!! I have so many things I want to get into and want to say though. SO, let's get right into that.

Things he likes about you:

Physically speaking, as that is how I always start, Jeff really, really loves your height and your legs make him fuzzy on the inside. He just loves it SO MUCH. Your hair is gorgeous, and he's never going to stop wanting to run his fingers through it. Whatever color it's dyed as becomes his new favorite, and he loves seeing your natural hair poke through as well. Your eyes are so gorgeous in his opinion and he finds himself getting lost in them. He thinks your nails being painted black is nice because honestly, he's prone to painting his nails black as well. He finds your body so great!! Wants to hold you and loves feeling new muscles when they get built up. Regardless, he just physically adores you. Your stretch marks are also something he adores as well, and he will fondly call them your tiger stripes and admire them in their entirety. He would love your piercings and the tattoo you want to get. Also really, really loves your choice in jewelry. Chokers are hot in his opinion lmfao. Ripped skinny jeans, flannels, black boots, converse!! just everything about your style works so well with him. And your personality!! That slight rebellious edge am slightly intimidating nature??? PLEASE

General cute stuff:

I feel like the two of you are going to spend some evenings in painting nails. Jeff is slightly touch starved and will absolutely run his hands over your body and just adore everything about you. I can also see Jeff working out with you as well!! He will be your number one supporter regardless of what you're going to be doing. He finds it so sweet that you take care of other people. Jeff also understands you being an introvert, because he's kind of the same way. He would absolutely would hang back with you and just exist. He likes observing as well. However, he also can be a bit of a chaotic guy and will go on adventures with you! Scary places, nature, wherever you want, Jeff will go with you. He'll also read up on fun little places and then go with you. He will absolutely get you green things just because he knows that you like that color. Jeff will also take you on walks in the woods, and he'll also let you wear his clothing!! Jeff actually smokes weed semi-regularly, so while you smoke herbal cigarettes, he's going to be lighting up alongside you as long as you're comfortable. He'd probably like the herbal cigarettes as well. Jeff would love to hear about your love of cryptozoology! He's met so many beings in his life that fit that that he'd just go buck wild being able to tell you about his stories and experiences as well. Parapsychology is also something he'd love to listen from you. He finds you going into the mortician business so incredible, and that you like the dark. Your music?? Please share that with him!!

You two as a couple:

Jeff knows that you are intimidating but so, so sweet. He finds you so admirable and honestly, he needs that kind of caring, loving influence in his life. He finds you being the mom friend of your group super fun and while he's not a dad friend, definitely loves saying things to remind all of your shared 'kids' to listen to you. He wants you to take care of yourself!! He wants you to be kind to yourself!! You being stubborn is something he understands because honestly he can be stubborn. Judgmental? He gets it but honestly might challenge the notion from time to time. He will remind you about boundaries and how important it is to set them. Time to time, he may step in just to help you out. He will also remind you to be assertive, mostly because he would hate to see anyone take advantage of you. Jeff will read up on C-PTSD, Bipolar II, and your anxiety simply so he can be more prepared to help you in any way he can. He deals with some things himself, but he doesn't always know how to handle others. So, he would definitely read up for you and end up becoming your rock when you need it. Honestly, just let him take care of you in his own way. Rough around the edges?? Absolutely. But he's so soft for you. He will help you in any way he can, whether it be weathering the bad days and loving the good ones. Let him adore you.

Closing Thoughts/Other Things:

Hi love bug, or as I will often fondly refer to you as, Dr. Cryptid! I was so happy to read all of this about you. Thank you so so much for sending this in and once again doing mine! I loved reading all about it, and I love talking with you. Thank you so much for that lil pine tree emoji and memes. Also, please take care of yourself!! There's only one of you in the universe and it's so important to love and cherish yourself. It's always okay to say no or know when to bail. Never take care of so many people that you leave all your energy with them and none for yourself. I look forward to our future convos and just friendship in general. As always, let me know what you think and I hope you enjoyed!

[author-morgan]

OH I actually got an idea so Eivor being a “lone-wolf” that’s another information I’ve read and the reader just LOOVES annoying him and shit gets heated-fluffy-and something i kinda love these kind of stuff 😤plz make eivor a lil bit “grumpy�� but In a good way I just love grumpy boys 🙂AND THANK YOU💕✌️

Hi nonny, sorry this took so long, I hope you enjoy it! inspiration taken from wild convos with @jaegers-and-kaijus

m!Eivor x fem!Reader

EIVOR GLANCES OVER his shoulder and breathes out a heavy sigh. You’d given away your presence by stepping on a twig on the narrow trail and snapping it. Turning, he crosses his arms with pursed lips. “I told you to stay with the others at the settlement,” he chides as gently as he can, though annoyance still seeps into his tone.

Stopping in front of him, you put your hands on your hips and puff out your chest. “Stay here with the womenfolk, it’s dangerous out there,” you say, trying your best to imitate the timbre of Eivor’s voice. He hadn’t said those words per se, but it is what he had meant. It isn’t that Eivor doubts your prowess or skills, only that Anglia is still a foreign land with many secrets and dangers. The settlement had lost its kennel master and his pack of hounds to bears not even a fortnight ago. 

His lips twitch upward, threatening to turn his frown into a poor smile. “It’ll be like old times,” Eivor remarks, motioning for you to come along with him. It will feel like old times, before the wars between chieftains to choose a true king and unify Norway. Too many of your people had died for the cause and when Eivor would not submit to King Harald’s reign, he took his people to safety —to Anglia. 

“Here,” Eivor murmurs his warm breath tickling your neck, hand resting on your bent draw arm, “lower this arm.” He presses down, eyes still narrowed on the deer grazing in a small forest clearing —a fine meal to bring back to the village. “Release,” he says. You let the arrow go, sucking in a large gulp of air as it whistled through the crisp air. A soft thunk is followed by a louder thud when the deer collapses. Eivor had felt his heart stop when you looked back at him with a bright smile. The thought of one of your first hunts together brings a faint smile to his lips, though he does not let you see. 

Old times you muse with a smile, trodding alongside him. Eivor had always been one to keep to himself, but that did not detract from his ability to be a leader among men —strong and just. A leader who would fight his own battles and lay down his life if need be, but he was always trying to prove something —to himself and others. Eivor has nothing to prove to you, though. He is among your oldest friends and besides Sýnin, you are one of his only confidants. You can think fondly on old times, but you are excited to learn what this new life holds. 

“Why’d you really follow me?” Eivor asks, his prior annoyance turned to mirth. In truth, he is glad to have your company —the burden of leadership among other duties has kept the two of you apart for many days. You give a small shrug, playing off the knot twisting in your stomach and heart as indifference. Eivor holds his arm out, stopping you in your tracks and raises a finger to his lips. 

The forest is dark and deep and silent. You glance up at the canopy searching for Sýnin, but the raven is not to be found. Eivor reaches behind his back, freeing one of his axes and your reach of the hilt of the blade on your belt —nervous. 

“Stay close,” he whispers, inching farther into the wilderness. He stops again after several steps. Now the silence is replaced with a low rumble —growling. A dark shadow moves in the underbrush. The black wolf bolts from its cover, teeth bared and jaws snapping. Neither of you notices the second, larger beast until it latches onto Eivor’s back. Sending them both rolling through the thicket in a blur of grey fur and brown leather —out of sight into a gully.

The black wolf surges, swiping its massive paw across your leg —claws sinking into your thigh. You scream at the burst of searing pain, slashing at the beast until the point of your blade sinks into its side. It rears back with a high-pitched yelp. You step back, foot catching on an upturned root. Just as you begin falling, the wolf leaps.  

Eivor pulls himself from the gully and glances around. When he sees both you and beast unmoving, his heart seizes. He pushes the wolf’s corpse aside and kneels, laying his hand against your bloody cheek. “Damn you,” he curses, shaking his head even as you smile at him. At first glance, most of the blood belongs to the wolf, but Eivor notices the ripped fabric at your thigh and frowns. “You should have listened,” he tells you, inspecting the three long, bloody tears in your skin. 

“When have I ever?” You counter, laughing as he slips his arms around your shoulders and beneath your knees lifting and cradling you against his chest. “I can still walk, you know,” you tease. Eivor rolls his clear blue eyes, unable to hide the smile pulling at the corner of his lips. He’ll take this as an excuse to keep you close. 

ANOTHER KETTLE OF water hangs over the fire for a bath. Eivor kneels in front of you, wet cloth in hand. Solveig had already collected your tattered britches to patch —besides a night shift and wool dress they were the only pair you had for now. He wipes away the dirt and blood, pleased to find the wounds were not deep —stitching or burning would not be needed, just a good cleaning and fresh binding. Eivor’s rough but gentle hands linger longer than needed.

He rises from the ground, tossing the dirtied cloth into the washbasin before fetching the kettle of steaming water and dumping it into the wooden tub. Eivor motions to the hot bath and averts her gaze until he hears the sloshing of water followed by a soft, content sigh. 

“Eivor,” you call, twisting around to see him looking at the scratches on his back —his tunic and jerkin hanging over the back of a chair. He makes a low rumble of acknowledgment, quickly glancing over his shoulder. A flush of color is on your cheeks, though you can blame it on the water and steam. “There’s enough room for two,” you tell him, motioning around at the tub. He hesitates but gives in to his heart’s desire. 

Water sloshes over the wooden sides when he slips into the tub, sitting in front of you, knees brushing together with yours. You lean toward him —scrubbing away the dried blood from a scratch on his shoulder. He shifts, straightening his legs, and draws you to him by the waist. Every time you’ve ever been this close to him, your heart skips several beats. He’s a good man, a good leader, my closest friend you think, and I love him. You drop the sponge and take his face into your hands, fingers deftly combing through his beard and tracing the scar on his cheek. “Eivor,” you murmur, “I have something to tell you.”

Eivor strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, fingers trailing over your neck and back into your hair. A soft smile on his lips lights up a twinkle in his eyes —softer than even a summer sky. “So do I,” he admits, feeling a fool for not acting on his heart’s wishes sooner. Eivor had tried convincing himself he was better off alone, but he is stronger with you. 

He draws in a deep breath and so do you. “I love you,” you both say at the same time. For a moment it doesn’t feel real, but warmth and elation fill your heart and his. Eivor tilts his chin up as you bend forward, pressing your lips to his. One of his arms wraps around your waist, bringing you flush against him —his beard tickling your cheek. The break lasts only a moment and when Eivor’s lips brush against yours for a second time, you can feel his smile. 

You lay your head on his shoulder, following the outline of the dark tattoo on his chest —a serpent consuming its tail— while he hums, fingers running up and down your spine. “Skatt mitt,” he breathes when the water grows tepid, he still needs to bind your leg. Eivor wraps his arms around you, rising from the bath and places you on a chair by the hearth, moving to gather a clean strip of linen. With a fresh bandage, he wraps the two of you in a roughspun blanket before the fire. It had always felt right when he wrapped you in his arms, but now it feels like home. 

“I want every day to be like this,” you tell him, leaning farther into his chest. 

He laughs softly, kissing your temple —arms tightening around you. “As long as there aren’t wolves every day,” he mutters, earning a chuckle from you too. This Eivor thinks this is a good life.  

@withered-poppies @ananriel @britishhotassassin

[bratkook]

clairvoyant. (m) part five.

masterlist.

word count: 6.4k

author’s note: wow i finally dug out my drafts and wrote another chapter for this even though its been two fucking years!!! im honestly writing this for myself because im bored and in a rut so if you read it tysm. also finally decided who it’ll be centered around so enjoy.

warnings: just good ole fashioned dry humping and kissing

Everyone around you was saying their goodbyes, thanking everyone for working so hard and you took that as your cue to start gathering the equipment up. 

“Thanks Y/N, just take that to the storage room.” The photographer you and Yoongi were currently assisting pointed out to the far right. You nodded in understanding before unhooking all of the lights and tearing them down properly. A few people lingered behind, makeup artists gathering their supplies, wardrobe crew grabbing a few more snacks off the catering table, and Yoongi rolling up the white backdrop. 

It was your first day on the job and it just so happened to land on a shoot day so you were trying your best to make a good first impression so they wouldn't fire you before you even really started. 

So far everyone had been very welcoming and kind, no one yelling at you if you messed up a little so that got rid of your jitters. It felt nice to be able to work where you knew you could network and learn, the only photography experience you had at your old job was taking shitty pictures of the drunken idiots lying around near closing. 

“So how’d you like your first assisting job?”

You looked to the left and saw Yoongi standing at the door frame of the storage room, a smile on his face and his hands holding the folded backdrop. 

“It was great, seems like kind of a tease though because tomorrow we’ll be doing basic retouching on photos.”

He just shrugged after setting what he was holding down, “True, we get quite a few of these shoots though so make a good impression and someone might take you under their wing.”

You sighed as you locked the lights securely into place. Being taken under someone's wing before you finished school would be a blessing because it almost guaranteed a decent job after school was over and you were tossed into the great unknown of an art degree holding college graduate. 

“Thats what I’m hoping for.” 

The both of you rechecked everything was in its place and secure before turning the light off and locking up the storage room. Due to the fact the shoot day extended longer than a typical shift you were being paid overtime and let off once everything wrapped so you and Yoongi were headed to the nearest restaurant to get actual food in your system. 

Your scarf was wrapped around your neck snuggly to protect from the cold wind and Yoongi draped his arm around your shoulder as you both casually walked. In this split moment you felt content, a slight feeling of everything starting to fall into place and you let yourself bask in it. 

“What's got you all smiley?”

Yoongi looked at you with a small grin, his eyes focusing on your wide smile before shifting back up to your own eyes. 

You just shrugged before playfully tugging his black beanie down over his eyes, earning a grunt of annoyance as he shoved it back up. “I’m just happy.”

“Are you usually not?”

There was a beat of silence as you thought it through. 

“It’s not that I’m not, I’m usually just...living through it?”

He nodded in understanding, “I get you. Kind of just going through routine motions without really feeling much.”

A white cloud left your mouth in a huff as you sighed in agreement, “Exactly, don’t get me wrong there’s little tidbits of happiness scattered throughout but they’re just moments of happiness that pass as quickly as they happen. It’s been a while since I’ve felt happiness for the future and its exciting.”

You looked back over at him, seeing him nod because he fully understood. He was on the same boat as you, his parents much like yours weren’t supportive of his choice to pursue an art degree so you guys were scraping by and holding on to any thread of hope that popped up. The pair of you were just hoping everything would work out. 

“Anyways, enough with the semi depressive reality check. I’m hungry and there’s this new korean barbecue place that opened up a few blocks away. Wanna text everyone and meet up for a nice family dinner.” He chuckled at the end of that, and you joined in light heartedly before whipping your phone out and sending out a group text simply saying “Korean bbq, don't be a bitch and meet here in fifteen.”  

Low and behold, your group of friends were indeed not bitches, they all showed up as punctual as you would expect of them and they even brought along a straggler. This straggler went by the name of Jeon Jungkook and you couldn’t help but look at him with a smile, just seeing him trail behind Taehyung with his head slightly dipped almost like he was unsure if him being there was okay. Taehyung on the other hand paid him no mind and just waltzed in, his denim clad arms outstretched and a boxy smile on display as he approached the table you all sat around.

Him and Jungkook were the last to arrive so Tae decided to slip into the seat beside you, but not before slotting his lips against yours in a chaste kiss that seemed too casual. Like usual no one said anything and you just rolled your eyes with a smile and shoved his shoulder before redirecting your attention to Yoongi who was the master meat cooker.

Jungkook saw the small exchange and his want for coaching, as you so put it, was back. He wanted that, whatever the fuck that was that you and Tae had. Fuck, did that make him a typical fuckboy? Did this go against his morals of being a gentleman?

You had reassured him that it was fine as long as he was straightforward with whoever it involved and he had already set his eyes on someone. Now it was just a waiting game on if Jisoo the cute barista would be for it or not.

“Jungkook sit down!”

The resemblance to a deer caught in headlights was uncanny as he stared at you, realizing he had just been standing behind the only available chair as everyone stared back at him with their own food set up in front of them already.

“Oh, sorry.” His hands came up and ruffled his own hair in embarrassment before he sat down, “Just a little distracted”

Taehyung slid over an empty plate and pointed his chopsticks at him, “He’s been like this for a couple of days, what’s your deal?”

Everyone’s attention was back on Jungkook, including your own. His cheeks reddened slightly from all the eyes on him so he took it upon himself to just scoop up some rice to occupy himself. What was he supposed to say? Yeah sorry I got a lot on my mind like finding out Taehyung and Y/N fuck on the regular but aren’t dating and Y/N is gonna teach me how to do that with the cute barista everyone sees at the campus coffee shop?

“Just a school project.”

“A very hands on school project right Jungkook?” You couldn’t help but tease him, knowing exactly what’s been on his mind since you’ve been texting each other to come up with some kind of game plan on approaching Jisoo.

His eyes flicked over to you for a split second, only giving you a nod before nervously chewing on his lip. You couldn’t understand him, you really couldn’t. How could a man who looked like him be this shy when it comes to literally anyone? He could probably crush someone with his thighs for crying out loud, but here he sat with an aura surrounding him that just showed how unsure he was with himself.

He was a sweet kid, super respectful as far as you could tell, he just needed to learn that wanting to fuck someone while not wanting a relationship was completely normal. Sex was human nature and you were determined to get him to enjoy it as long as he was consenting to your help.

You kept your eyes on him, seeing him reach his plate over to get the meat Yoongi was offering him and mumbling out a thanks before turning his attention to Jin who was on his left and starting a conversation.

A small jab to your cheek via a chopstick snapped you out of your curious gaze, your fingers coming up to rub at the skin and looking to your right where Jimin was sat. “You into him?”

He had mumbled it out to you so quietly you almost didn’t hear him, a couple seconds passed before it clicked and you shook your head, “No, why?”

“You’ve been staring at him like he’s your next victim.”

You rolled your eyes at him and smiled before picking up some kimchi and shoving it into his mouth with no resistance from his part as he happily munched on it. “I don’t have victims Park Jimin.” The way his eyes slightly narrowed at you made it clear he was questioning why you were staring at him as intently as you have been, “I was just looking at him because he’s interesting don’t you think?”

Jimin shook his head because he had no idea what you even meant by that, “Interesting? He’s not a caged animal for you to observe you weirdo.” He was just teasing you, giving you a smile when he heard you laugh.

“That’s not what I mean, forget it. How was your mom’s brunch?”

At the mention of that his expression went blank and he poured himself a glass of soju and took a nice swig of it, “As amazing as you would expect.”

Jimin’s parents always went all out for these brunches, renting out the biggest places and inviting the A class elites of Seoul who would donate to whatever charity they were advocating for. They hassled Jimin every single time to network and find a girl they deemed worthy enough of him marrying and he absolutely hated it. He was the literal definition of a rebellious son, getting a kick every time he would get under their skin. Whether that was by going out on a date with someone they thought suited him and getting absolutely trashed and scaring said girl away, to getting his body tattooed and pierced against their wishes. 

Jimin knew how to play his cards right, he knew his parents would never fully cut him off as long as he was somewhat compliant with a few things here and there but he wasn’t going to be molded into whatever they wanted him to be. He was their only child so in his mind who else could they possibly hand off their money to?

“I told my mom you were my date for the thanksgiving event.”

You hummed as you chewed on your food, already knowing this probably didn’t end well. “How did she take that?”

His smirk just proved your suspicion, “Super well actually. Especially when I told her I think you’re the one and I’m thinking about proposing to you.”

What?!

You choked on your food, coughing like a mad man and pounding at your chest with a closed fist. Taehyung who was sat on your left immediately handed you a glass of water and patted your back to help you out. All the while Jimin continued to stare at you with that shit eating grin on his face, pressing the edge of his glass against his lips as he waited for you to speak again.

“Jimin what the fuck I never agreed to that.”

Taehyung was now intrigued by whatever conversation you two were having so he decided to eavesdrop while pretending to eat his food.

“Relax Y/N, obviously I’m not doing that. It was a small joke.”

“It’s not a joke if your parents don’t think it is!”

He pursed his lips at you, “Damn is marrying me really that repulsive?”

Taehyung laughed to himself at that, gaining Jungkook's attention who was now looking at the exchange between you and Jimin.

“No, shut up! That’s not what I’m saying Jimin. I’m just supposed to go to scare off all the girls that wanna latch onto you, I’m not there to piss your parents off, they probably hate me enough knowing you help me whenever you can.”

Taehyung decided to stop listening at that moment, striking up a conversation with Hoseok instead. He knew how sensitive you were when it came to talking about receiving help and admitting to needing it so he knew this wasn’t his business. Jungkook on the other hand didn’t have a clue so as he stared down at his rice his ears stayed hooked on the conversation.

Jimin pressed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “Y/N, I promise I was joking. I didn't tell my parents that, I wouldn’t put you in that position. They don’t hate you by the way.”

That was a little hard to believe, Jimin was a very giving person, especially when it came to his friends. The rest of your friends were a little more financially stable than you were so the amount of times he would take it upon himself to help you, because you had too much pride to really ask for help, surely it stood out to his parents. 

“What I choose to do with my money is my business okay, my parents don't even notice where it goes half the time.”

You pushed the meat on your plate around with your chopsticks, your mood dropping down just a bit once you really remembered how much help Jimin gave you. You owed him a lot, and even though he says it's fine it doesn't make you feel any better about it. 

“Hey,” Jimin slowly spoke, slouching down and looking up at you from your downcast gaze on the table, “Y/N.”

When you only pursed your lips at the sound of your name he sat back up and slung his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side and wrapping both arms around you. He had his chin resting on your head, seeing the rest of the guys now looking your way. Yoongi mouthing out what the fuck did you do while Jimin responded nothing mind your business. 

“If I ever go overboard for whatever reason let me know and I’ll back off but if I can help you then I will and have no problems doing so okay?” He had mumbled all that next to your ear to not draw attention from everyone else. 

With a deep sigh, you mumbled out an okay and tried your best to go back to the dinner you and your friends were having. Jungkook had heard the entire exchange and he wanted to say something to make you feel slightly better but there was no way he could do that without feeling like he crossed a line by eavesdropping in your conversation. 

After a few moments the dinner had gone back to normal, all of you goofing around like you usually do, the guys including Jungkook in and making him feel like part of the group. When the time came to leave you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket so you slid it out to peek at the notification, momentarily confused when you saw Jungkook's name flashing on your screen when he was sat right across from you.

Regardless, you opened the thread of messages up and grinned when you read what he wrote.

Jungkook 8:45pm

Need help, Jisoo responded.

Jungkook 8:45pm

Can we go to your dorm?

Jungkook 8:45pm

Don’t want Tae to hear…

Right on cue, Taehyung slung his arm around your shoulders, not noticing how you locked your phone and slid it back into your pocket. All of you were now shuffling out of the restaurant, you and Taehyung in the middle of the swarm of your group that was now being reckless on the walk back to the dorms.

“Wanna go back to mine? I can try to get rid of Jungkook.” He whispered in your ear, kissing the side of your head swiftly as he waited for your response.

You slid your arm around his waist as you nuzzled further into his side when the wind picked up, “Can’t, Jungkook and I actually have some planning to do for his project tonight.”

At the mention of his name you could see Jungkook's back tense up from behind and you already knew he was listening in to your exchange while pretending to be invested in the ruckus Jimin was currently doing.

“Oh, planning? Is that code for fucking?” Your cheeks warmed up at his words, your palm instinctively smacking his side, “Cause, to be honest I don’t know how I would feel about you and my roommate banging.”

“Oh don’t be like that, sharing is caring right?” You teased, enjoying the suggestive look that took over his face, “But no, no fucking. I mean it when I say we’re planning for a project.”

He sighed and said alright before dropping the conversation altogether. The walk back to campus took a few minutes, your group huddled by the statue on the front corner of the campus as you said your goodbyes and dispersed. Jimin hopped into an Uber before heading to his apartment, Jin took off in his car to his own place while Namjoon, Hoseok, Yoongi and Taehyung hooked arms and stupidly walked across the quad towards the boys dorms. 

You looked over at Jungkook, seeing him smile at the guys’ antics, his eyes moving back to you and seeing your hands motion for him to follow you to the girl’s dorms. 

“Hey Y/N, who's this?” Joy asked with a smile from behind the front desk, hands already sliding over the notepad used for off campus guests. 

“Oh, Jungkook. I’m a student here.” He slid out his wallet and handed her his student ID. 

She hummed as she filled out his info in a separate notepad before handing it back with a smile. “Okay, well Jihyo’s doing her rounds for guests at 11:40 so if you’re planning on spending the night I’d recommend hiding around that time.”

Jungkooks face started to turn a light shade of red at the implication of him spending the night and now he was wondering how many times Taehyungs had to hide in your dorm on the nights he never came home and it also clicked when you’d make a swift exit out of his and Taehyungs shared room for a few moments when Namjoon made his rounds before sneaking back in when you thought no one would notice.

“Thanks Joy!” You winked at her, hooking your arm around Jungkooks and dragging him away while she fluttered her fingers in a goodbye wave. 

When you entered the elevator you felt Jungkook finally exhale, “Wow, she’s pretty.” Was the first thing he said. 

You could only laugh in response, “Oh, I know. All the girls here are Jungkook, and I’m pretty sure they’d all let you smash if you knew how to ask them.”

And now his blushed cheeks were spreading to his ears as well, he could see it in the warped reflection the elevator doors were giving him. Could he really just ask them? He felt like that would be the quickest way to get slapped to next week. 

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, you took the lead and walked out, turning left as your hands slid out the keycard that was in the small pocket in your bag. As you entered your room you noticed Wendy was gone, her side completely spotless as normal and a cute post it note resting on your desk. 

Went out for dick and by dick I mean getting absolutely hammered and crying into my street tacos, won't be back until tomorrow so feel free to get your own dick down here all night xo

Jungkook read the note as well, quickly acting like he didn’t when he heard you giggling to yourself as you set your stuff down. His eyes roamed the room, seeing the cute touches you and your roommate have added, one of which was a giant polaroid wall on your side with plenty of photos of you and your friends.

“Okay,” you clapped your hands together as you walked in front of Jungkook and set your hands on his shoulders to force him to sit on your bed, “what’s going on with Jisoo?”

He slid his phone out silently, opening up their thread of messages and handing the device over to you. You grabbed it from him and flicked up to the top of the thread. 

Jungkook 3:12pm

Hey, its Jungkook. Thanks for the free coffee

Jungkook 3:12pm

And your number. 

Jisoo 4:30pm

Hi! Sorry I just got off work but you’re welcome anything for my favorite customer. 

You continued to scroll, seeing Jungkook and Jisoo making nice, innocent conversation with each other. Jisoo kept implying wanting to see Jungkook outside of the regular visits to the cafe while Jungkook was either very oblivious or just didn’t know how to ask her out. 

“Okay, she wants you to ask her out Jungkook. Why haven’t you?” You hand his phone back to him, seeing him fidgeting with his fingers at your question. 

“I don’t know. I don’t even know how to properly ask her. What's a good date suggestion?” You slipped your shoes off and shuffled up on your bed beside him, choosing to get comfy. 

“If you want something short and sweet, I suggest going out to lunch somewhere near campus. You guys can talk and get to know each other and you can get a feel for this before you decide if you like her enough to pursue something or if you’d be down for something casual with her.”

He sighs at that, laying back against your bed and using one of your throw pillows to cushion his head from hitting the wall. “Okay, and if I decide I want something casual how do I bring it up? And if she’s for it and tries to get physical how do I go about it?”

“Well for one, you’re not gonna bring it up on the first date. That kinda stuff shouldn’t be discussed on a first date, not unless theres an obvious connection. I do have to advise you though, if you just want something casual you can’t treat her like you want something more.”

His thick eyebrows furrow at this, “Wait, what do you mean?”

“I mean, if after this one date you decide you just wanna sleep with her or make it a friends with benefits kinda thing you can’t take her on dates or act like a boyfriend. Odds are she’s gonna be the one to ask you what you’re looking for and its very important for you to be honest. Thats how you avoid hurting someone.”

You’re gently patting his head at this, feeling him nod along to your words, “Also, in terms of how to act if she decides to get physical then you kinda act on instinct. I know you’ve only slept with one person before but what about kissing?”

He shakes his head at this, “Not much experience there either. I told you Y/N, I feel completely clueless and I know I shouldn’t care but I don’t wanna be dubbed as the guy that sucks at everything.”

A giggle leaves you at his statement, “Jungkook that’s not gonna happen. Kissing is like second nature.”

He slides the pillow out from behind him and covers his face to let out a groan into it, “Easy for you to say, you don’t understand how many times I have to listen to Taehyung brag about how great you are.”

“At kissing?”

“Yeah, and other things.” He trails off. 

All you can do is sit there and think over his words, part of you wants to suggest he go to a party with Taehyung and make out with random girls before he asks Jisoo out if he’s so worried about being bad at kissing of all things but you know he wont be up for it. Another part of you wants to suggest helping him learn, one on one, but you’re also not sure how he’d take that. Even though kissing was entirely innocent in your eyes you really don’t want to make Jungkook uncomfortable. 

“Look,” you start off, sliding the pillow off his face, “I can show you, if you want.”

The fingers that were strumming on his stomach freeze at your suggestion and you immediately think you fucked up. Until his head tilts to look at you, his eyes wide in curiosity, “Really?”

He sits back up to fully look at you, “Yeah, if you want to Jungkook.”

You don’t expect him to nod as quickly as he does but considering he’s eager to learn it shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise. “Please, as long as it’s not awkward for you.”

You shrug and say its not because it really isn’t, Jungkooks hot and kissing is your favorite pastime so you really dont mind. Plus considering you’re the one who suggested coaching him you kind of felt a tinge of responsibility to not let him go off with zero confidence with something as simple as kissing.

He could only sit there and you know he doesn’t know how to initiate it because of the position you’re in so you stand up and go to stand right in front of him. With the height of your bed and his height when you stand right in front of his sitting frame you’re only slightly taller than him. 

“Okay, lets start slow yeah?” He nods, his tongue running across his lips in anticipation. You nudge his thighs apart so you can slot between them more comfortably and gently rest your palms on his jaw, getting closer to him. 

“You can touch me, whatever feels natural okay?” He can only nod again, maintaining eye contact for a moment before looking down at your lips and seeing the smile on them. His eyes flutter closed when you finally press your lips together, his lips feel soft against yours and it only lasts a moment before you’re pulling away and his lips try to chase you back. 

“How was that?” He immediately asks, not noticing that his hands had found their way onto your hips. 

“Good, not too stiff. We’re gonna move on now, just try to follow what I’m doing.”

Your thumb traces his bottom lip before your hands go back to cupping his jaw gently. This time he closes the distance between you two, his lips slotting between yours easily with a little more pressure than last time. 

You test the waters, letting him get used to the actions of open mouth kissing, feelings his lips relax after a while. He lets out a small gasp of surprise once he feels the tip of your tongue lick the seam of his lips. The grip he has on your hips tighten and you give him a few more seconds to adjust before you take it further. 

One of the hands you have on his jaw slides down to grasp the hand on your hip and you drag it up so he could cup the back of your head. Your fingers dont leave his hand until he has a decent grip on your hair. 

His mouth opens up a little wider, letting you slide your tongue inside and his eyes slip open for a second at the new feeling. Its wet, and a little ticklish but the sound of your lips smacking together and the small groans of pleasure you both slip out are making a small fire light up inside him. 

The hand gripping your hair tightens up and he tugs gently, kissing you harder when he hears the small moan that leaves your mouth. Its pure instinct that has you swinging your legs over his thighs and straddling him on your bed, not noticing just how comfortable you’ve gotten until you find yourself grinding down onto him and thats when you stop. 

You pull back, a small string of spit pulling apart between your lips and he doesn’t seem to even notice your new position. His eyes are half lidded and his breathing is harsh and the way his tongue comes out to catch the spit on his lips makes you want to dive back in but you snapped out of it. 

“See, second nature right?” 

He finally seems to realize you’re on his lap when he looks down and sees how flush you are to him, “Yeah, want more practice though.” He doesn't give you time to respond before he’s using the hand still in your hair to pull you towards him again and this time he’s leading the kiss. 

He tilts his head and licks his way into your mouth, groaning when your tongues tangle together. He never realized how messy kissing could be but he thought it was hot. You can tell he wants to speed up but you keep your movements slow, knowing that the buildup is the best part, the feeling of your tongues playing tag or your tongue tickling the roof of his mouth before you pull back slightly to suck on his bottom lip. Those moments were always your favorite when it came to making out. 

Jungkook starts to grow more comfortable, both his hands now coming to grip the back of your head and the other sliding up right beneath your jaw as the kiss grows deeper. And that's when your hips start grinding down again, this time Jungkook notices it right away and he pulls back to let out a moan. 

“Sorry, is that too much?” Your lips are shiny and he can’t look away from them, “I know we said kissing but I didn’t really ask about this.”

His hands fall limp and just as you’re about to hop off they come back to life to rest on your hips, using them to slide you back across his lap, “No, I like it. Its uh, for the experience right?”

You nod at this, not giving it much thought because you just want to go back to kissing him. The logical side of you wanted to stop because you’re just supposed to be showing him the ropes on kissing on a first date and odds are Jisso’s not gonna hop on his lap in the middle of lunch in public and do this but the other side of you wants to see him fall apart underneath you and that part of you is winning. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” You let his hands control the motion of your hips while you go back to kissing him. The flavor of the chapstick he had on is all you can taste as the kiss grows more heated. Your hands wrap around his shoulders as you pull yourself even closer to him, speeding up the rocking of your hips and feeling Jungkook choose to place his palms on your back, wanting you just as close. 

The shudder of his breath fans across your face when he pulls back to let out another groan but you don’t want to pull your lips away so you trail them down his jaw until you reach the spot just under it when his jaw meets his neck. 

When he feels your tongue on his skin along with the gentle sucking he can’t help but rock his hips up into yours, “Oh fuck.” He keens, applying more pressure with his hands to encourage you to grind on him faster. 

“Feel good Jungkook?” You ask, nibbling on his skin softly before trailing your way back up to his lips, not slowing down the motions of your hips. 

“Yeah,” he gasps, his eyes are blown out and he knows hes about to cum in his pants like a teenager but he doesn’t care. “So good.”

“Good.” Is all you respond, your lips coming together again to resume the motion that seems familiar now. 

Jungkooks moans of pleasure are becoming more frequent and the feeling of him blowing his load right underneath you is making you embarrassingly wet, but right now its all about Jungkook. You can deal with your problem later. 

“Dont stop, please.” He breathes out between kisses, his eyebrows coming together when he feels his climax approaching. 

“You gonna cum?” You ask him, keeping your face close enough to his where you can feel his breath tickle your cheek at the proximity. 

“Fuck, yeah.”

You speed up your hips, grinding down a little harder and grabbing one of his hands again to grab your boob this time. He gives them an experimental squeeze, moaning again at the feeling of them. 

“C’mon Jungkook, you can cum.” His eyes are open now, looking directly at you and when he sees the fascination in your eyes at watching him fall apart he loses it, letting out a small wine as his body tenses up, his hips coming up to rut against yours as he rides out his orgasm. 

He drops his head forward to rest on your chest as you continue to grind against him to milk out the feeling, his body shuddering at every roll of your hips until he’s whimpering at the overstimulation. 

You still your hips and let him bask in the feeling, his back rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath. 

“Jesus christ.” Jungkook pulls back from you, a dopey smile on his face that can be attributed to post orgasm bliss. “Does kissing always lead to that?”

“No, not always, but its fun when it does.” You smile back at him. His body is definitely loosened up now and just as you’re about to speak again a hard knock comes from your door. 

“Fuck, thats Jihyo making rounds.” Your arms are still around him but you know you need to answer the door before she uses her master key to unlock it for you. 

Jungkook groans quietly when you get off of him, any movement on his sensitive dick being too much for him to handle right now. He’s happy he chose to wear black pants and a shirt that will definitely cover the wet spot of cum because when you stand up off of him it is glaringly obvious what it is. 

The room door clicks as you slide it open and he sees you greet Jihyo with a smile, “Hey Y/N, he’s gotta be outta here in 5 minutes.”

Jungkook can only awkwardly sit on your bed as the exchange goes down, “Yeah, no problem. We were just working on a project.” He sees Jihyo look you up and down, noticing your swollen lips and disheveled hair before she looks at Jungkook who stupidly covers his lap with the pillow beside him. 

“Right. I’ll be back in a few to make sure he’s gone.” You nod before stepping back and shutting the door behind you. 

“Sorry about that, I forgot what time it was. Do you want me to walk you to your dorm?”

Jungkook stands up from his position, shaking his head at your offer. “No it’s fine. I really should get going now anyways, that essay for creative writing is due tomorrow and I need to finish editing it.”

“Oh shit, you’re right.” Your hands comes up to your face, your teeth going to chew on your fingernail as you think of having to edit the monstrosity of the essay you wrote while you were delirious with sleep. 

“Uh thanks for–“

“For giving you the best orgasm of your life? Yeah, no problem.” You wink at him, enjoying the flustered look that immediately takes over his face. 

He lets out a chuckle, happy that you’re not making this awkward, “Really though. Thank you.”

You can only shrug, “You should really text Jisoo though, she’s not gonna reject you and if you kiss her like that she’s definitely not gonna turn down any offer you give her.”

Jungkook doesn’t fully believe you but he knows he has to bite the bullet and do it. He gives you a hug and says goodnight before he shuffles out of your dorm and into the elevator. 

Now that he’s in a brightly lit place he once again looks at the warped reflection in the elevator doors, using it to fix his hair the best way he can and adjust his shirt and jacket to cover the wet spot on his crotch before he exits it. 

Joy spots him as hes about to leave and lets out a whistle, “Y/N take you for a wild ride huh?” She teases him and he blanks, not really knowing how to respond until the automatic excuse comes out, “We were working on a project.”

“Mhm, some project. Bye Jungkook.” She waves him off with a giggle, enjoying how flustered he gets. 

Jungkook all but runs across the quad, wanting to get out of the cold as well as into his room to slide out of his sticky ass underwear and pants. He uses his key card to open the dorm buildings doors, waving at Baekhyun before hopping on the elevator and making his way up to his floor. 

When he slides into his room he really wasn’t expecting to see Taehyung still awake, resting on his bed against the wall where the giant canvas of his ass was hung up. 

“Oh, hello.” Taehyung spoke up first, his eyes raking over Jungkook entirely. “How was the progress on your project?”

He knew Taehyung was asking an innocent question but Jungkook couldn’t help the pang of guilt he felt at it. He knew you and Taehyung weren’t together but he still felt like he was crossing a line by letting you give him an orgasm without his roommate knowing. Especially since Taehyung always boasted about the amazing orgasms you gave him, it almost felt like those were reserved for Tae only and he had just snatched one off the shelf.

“Oh, it was good.” He spoke up quietly, walking over to his closet to grab his pajamas, “Got a lot done actually.”

Taehyung had his eyes glued to Jungkook’s back as he rummaged in his closet. There was something off about him and he just couldnt put his hands on it until Jungkook slid off his jacket and shirt for his pajama shirt and turned around without a second thought to slide his pants off. 

“Dude!” Taehyund gasped in shock, his fingers pointing directly at Jungkook's cum stained pants. 

Jungkook looked down with wide eyes when he realized Taehyung could clearly see. “Did you catch a glimpse of Y/N’s tits when you were studying and busted a nut in your pants or what?”

Mm well no actually just good ole fashioned dry humping is what he wanted to respond with but he chose to deny until he died. “No! I spilled something on my pants at her dorm.”

Taehyung didn’t believe his horrible excuse for a second but didn’t want to continue to tease him, “Whatever dude, go shower. I don’t blame you, she’s hot I bust a nut just looking at her too, now imagine what her pussy feels like.”

Jungkook didn’t even want to respond to his raunchy comment, simply gathering his shower cubby and towel before leaving to go shower. Except now thanks to Tae he really couldn’t stop wondering what your pussy would feel like around his dick.

[emotional-support-puppy]

9, 12, 13 😘~

💜💜💜💜💜

Hey beautiful 💜💜💜

9. Tattoos I want

On my right wrist I want this one, just the deer/doe not the circle. In between the quote one I have

On my chest left side by the shoulder I want this one. Its the same tattoo my favourite video game character has, Raiden from Metal Gear Solid 2. He was a huge part of my life growing up, and I've played the game over 50 times, I can complete it in about 5 hours now.

I want this on my right inner bicep. Its the Rogue symbol for DnD

I also want a Medusa tattoo, probably on my leg, maybe on my left thigh. Going to get a wolf tattoo, probably something from Assassin's Creed, Mass Effect, and Horizon Zero Dawn/Forbidden West.

12. Ideas of a perfect date.

Honestly the perfect date for me would involve a lot of laughter, doing something that we both enjoy. Like we could go out to an art gallery, or stay in watching a film or playing a game with take out or a romantic home cooked meal. Like as long as there is time together then that's perfect for me.

13. Life goal(s)

This is honestly a tough one. I never thought I'd get this far in life, I didn't expect to make it past 16. For the longest time my goal has been to just survive, do whatever is needed and survive. And I'm in a place now where I don't have to be like that.

I would love to help people though, that's something I've always been like even from a young age. Like when I started school (at 3) I always wanted to help those being picked on, I got in the way and defending them. I'm doing a degree in Psychology because I know it can help me get to a place of self understanding and to a place I can start helping people professionally. If someone is in trouble I want to be there to help and protect them. Being a mental health professional that can understand the struggled of youth would be amazing to me. And there is a field I want to go into, like be a specialist in, because that's what I needed but never got.

And on a happier note, I would love to be able to do something with my art as well, just make people happy with it.

Oh and I want to marry one day, have that commitment to someone.

[missgarnet]

Scars to Your Beautiful

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.8k

Genre:tattoo artist au / fluff

Part One of Yours, Mine, & Ours

Part Two  Part Three

Summary:Y/N has struggled to feel beautiful in her own skin, but Jungkook is determined to change that.

Link to ao3

You paced back and forth outside the tattoo parlor, trying to work up the nerve to go in. The appointment was made weeks ago, but you became a nervous wreck every time you thought about meeting with the artist and having them see the mess they would have to cover. 

The door creaked on your way in, but that was the only noise in the room. You checked the time on your phone, only five minutes until your appointment, but there wasn’t anyone there. You sat in one of the waiting chairs, bouncing your leg and checking your phone to pass time. As you were getting up to go back outside, you heard a voice coming from the back. Someone was singing from the back of the shop, their voice creating a calming melody. You can’t help but stay, wanting to hear the rest of the song. Their voice was so clear and filled with emotion, and as you listened you could feel your eyes beginning to water.

The guy singing turned the corner, and immediately froze as the two of you made eye contact. His doe eyes made him look even more like a deer in headlights as he stepped into the room. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the door open.”

You started fiddling with the edge of your skirt, trying to steady your voice and speak up. “No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure if I should’ve called before, or knocked at the door, or...” you felt your face growing warmer with every word as you rambled on, constantly apologizing for interrupting him.

Jungkook scrunched his nose and gave a bunny smile while he listened to you going on and on, eventually the sight became too much and he started laughing at your reaction.

Your rambling came to a sudden halt when the sound of his laughter finally registered. “You know, it’s rude to laugh at someone,” you snap, looking up to meet his eyes. “Here I am, apparently making a fool out of myself by apologizing  for walking in five minutes early, and… and you don’t even care enough to just stop and listen to me. Instead you just stand there laughing and make me feel like even more of an idiot, as if that were even possible.”

He starts to blush and picks at his hair as he mumbles something under his breath.

“Excuse me?”

He glances up and tries to avoid looking at you as he speaks up, “I said I was only laughing because you look cute when you ramble… and when you get all angry.”

“Oh,” your anger begins to soften at his observation. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to act angry or rude, especially when you were nice enough to make this appointment on short notice. I’m just going through a lot and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. If you want I can go, I’ll still pay for this appointment time.”

“No, please stay,” he says this in a soft sweet voice as if he were asking a question. You can’t bring yourself to respond yet, afraid that one word will cause you to break down and start crying already. After a small nod of your head, he leads the way into a small glass office with sketches framed on the back wall.

There’s a petite young woman sitting in one of the chairs next to the large black desk inside. It was almost comical how large the over-sized headphones she wore looked on someone so small. The artist tapped her foot along to whatever music she was listening to and was more focused on her sketch than anything else going on.  She lowered the volume for a minute and said, “Hi! I’m Mina, one of the other tattoo artists here. I’m just working on sketches and keeping an eye on JK, so feel free to just pretend I’m not here.”

Jungkook perches on the edge of the desk and grabs a sketchpad and pencil from behind him. “So you said on the phone that you were fine with just being an open canvas, but I want to make sure you're completely happy with the tattoo you’re getting. I want to get to know you, your style, any interests that might change what kind of tattoo I sketch.”

“Um, well I have a pretty plain sense of style, my ex didn’t like when I wore flashy things. I love flowers a lot and I like art, not Picasso or anything like that, but I really love Starry Night and Van Gogh’s sunflowers,” you started to smile as you thought of all the beautiful things you adored, and took a shaky breath before you continued. “But I don't really care what I get, I just want to feel pretty again."

He tilts his head, “What do you mean, why would you think that you're not beautiful?”

You glance at the girl in the corner, nervous to show not one but two people your biggest insecurity. Your hands shook as you pulled the bottom of your skirt high enough over your thigh for him to see the scars he would have to cover. He didn’t say anything at first, just started sketching the paper in his hands. When he glanced up at you, you couldn’t see pity in his eyes, he was more focused on his sketch than any imperfections you felt.

“Miss, I don’t want this to come off the wrong way, but I think you’re really pretty just the way you are,” he glances up from his work and gives you another sweet bunny smile. “But I know that sometimes it takes a little bit of change before you can see yourself that way. So, I’m gonna work really hard and draw something new just for you, and maybe when it’s done you could see yourself the way I do.”

Jungkook had a more appointments that day, but finished those sketches in only a few minutes. Meanwhile now matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t find something that covered your scars and looked as beautiful as he wanted to make you feel. He rushed to the cafe as soon as his shift was over, wanting to go upstairs and get help from Taehyung on this design.

The little bell on the door jingles as he stumbled through, slamming into Namjoon and almost sending them both to the floor. Namjoon drops his mug on his way down, leaving bits of broken glass all around the coffee spilled. The two men burst out in laughter, drawing the attention of the entire cafe and an irritated Jimin.

He huffs and makes his way over to where the broken mug lays, shaking his head at the mess. “Joonie, I thought you said you were going to start looking at where you were going. You can’t keep breaking all of my coffee mugs.”

“But… but,” Namjoon stammers, “But it wasn’t me this time. JK was the one not paying attention.”

“Sorry,” Jungkook mutters. “I was just in a rush because I need Tae’s help with a design for Y/N, this really pretty girl that came in the shop today.”

Namjoon’s head jerks up at this, “Y/N, like my neighbor?”

Jimin smiles and runs a hand through his hair, “I think I’ve seen her in here before, she’s cute, but not as cute as our little kookie,” he says reaching out to pinch the youngest’s cheek. Jungkook blushes at his remark, and Jimin begins to tease him even more, “I think someone has a crush. You don’t like her more than me, do you?”

“No, I just think she’s nice,” JK says in a pouty voice, “I just wanted to make her happy, but that doesn’t mean I like her more.”

“Jimin that’s enough teasing,” Namjoon laughs at the two of them carrying on. “Especially when you and Hoseok were sitting in here saying the same thing yesterday, and trying to hit on her.”

“Shhh,” he giggles, “he doesn’t need to know that. Also you were doing the same thing, and you’re always in that apartment next to her. I swear you only go there to avoid us while you flirt with your hot neighbor.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, “No, I go there because I can never get any work done with all of you at home. Besides, us sitting here arguing about who’s flirting with her the most isn’t going to help JK. Tae’s at the flower shop filling in for Hobi today, he can probably help you design something.”

You were admiring a display of roses when the door to the flower shop was flung open once again. The shop was pretty popular, but you expected it to be a little busy, but today there were more people than usual and they all seemed to have some urgent problem. However, you didn’t mind waiting around for the owner to finish up with everyone else coming in, it gave you more time to look at the new layout of the store.

What you didn’t expect was running into your tattoo artist… literally. He was the one to throw the door open and run toward the owner, knocking you to the floor. “Are you sorry?” He yelled, springing up from the floor.

“What? Why would I be sorry, you ran into me?” You asked, wondering how this guy could go from being sweet to rude in a matter of seconds. He was probably only being nice earlier because you were paying him then.

He started nervously pulling at his hair and looked at you in shock, “No. No, I didn’t mean… I- I was trying to ask if you were okay and then I thought I should say sorry. It’s just that girls make me really nervous and I don’t really know what to say so everything gets mixed up.”

The owner began chuckling at the spectacle his friend was making. His shoulders shook as he tried to stop laughing long enough to ask Jungkook what he needed. Jungkook just backed away from you sheepishly and pulled Yoongi to the back room with him. You could hear them muttering back and forth, but before you could see what was going on the other owner came out to run the shop.

Unlike the first owner, Hoseok was far from reserved and the two of you chatted as he picked the flowers from Yoongi’s list for you. The arrangement he made was beautiful, but it was also a much freer style than the ones Yoongi created. He smiled and waved as you left the shop yelling, “Bye bye little blossom, you’ll be back soon!”

“Goodbye sunshine, see you next week!” You said, spinning around to shout as you left the store.

You couldn’t stop smiling when you got home, there was something perfect about the warmth from your hot chocolate and the way the flowers were filling up the room. There was excitement all around you as you began to write down your plans for the next few weeks. Even though you were all by yourself in the apartment, you didn’t feel alone anymore. You were looking forward to going out again, buying flowers and baked goods for yourself, and even getting the tattoo you’ve always wanted.

JK wanted to be sure that everything was perfect with the design for you. The guys had never seen him so focused on anything before, but after long nights of sketching and reworking the designs, he finally got Yoongi and Tae to help him create not one but two options that were perfect. He couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when you saw them. When the day finally came for you to come back in, he was a nervous wreck and kept checking the clock all morning.

You were a little early for your appointment again, but you didn’t have to wait like last time. As soon as you walked in, Mina walked you back to the office where Jungkook was trying to hang up two colorful sketches on a display board. On the left was a bridge and cityscape that looked like a Van Gogh, and the other had groups of flowers from your favorite bouquets.

“Both of these are for you. I wanted you to have a choice on what goes on your body. The left one is the Pont des Arts in Paris drawn like Starry Night. And the other is a cascade of flowers, it starts with birds of paradise, then a rose, a tiger lily, and finally yellow violets. It’s a bit bigger than the scaring, but it overlaps in a way that uses the scars to add definition to the petals.”

Your hand traced the design and you couldn’t believe how much attention to detail went into each line.  You could see the tattoo itself, but you could also see lines that moved in the same spots as the scars. “It’s perfect,” you whispered in awe. “I want both.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Both?”

“If it’s possible, could we do the flowers on my thigh, and use the other sketch somewhere else? It’s so beautiful and I don’t want all of this work going to waste.”

He went to the computer and started tapping his forehead as he messed with something on the screen, “What if we take the bridge piece, make it a little smaller and use it as an arm piece on the other side. We can start on the thigh piece today, and do the other one in between sessions for that. Then I’ll have enough time to adjust the sketch and you can get both around the same time.”

Weeks went by, the arm piece was finished first and you were in awe of how well it turned out. You kept wearing short sleeves and showing it off every chance you got, but you still hadn’t felt comfortable enough to wear shorts that showed your thigh yet. The scars were almost all covered at this point, but there were still a couple spots to be filled in at your last appointment.

By this point you and Jungkook had settled into a routine, he got used to you being early each time and would let you sit in his office talking as he finished up with other clients. The two of you would put on music and then you would get settled in the chair while he got the machine set up. The first time was a bit of a shock when the needle touched your skin, but by now the hum of the machine was a comfort and the feeling had dulled.

The end of the appointment felt too soon, when he brought you to the large mirror to get a final look you couldn't bring yourself to open your eyes. Tears started running down your face as you tried to turn away from Jungkook and the mirror. Your hands felt warm as he wrapped them in his, “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“What if I look in the mirror and I still see them? What am I going to do if I look and I still don’t like what I see?”

“You were perfect even when your scars were visible. That and there’s no way to know if something is better if you don’t look. You were so confident after seeing your arm piece, and I promise you’re going to like this one even more. If you want, I can close my eyes and we can count to three and look together.”

You nod your head and feel him shift the two of you towards the mirror as you start counting, “One… two… three…” The piece before you was even better than he had described, you had seen the sketch and the progress each time you visited but it was different this time.

He looked at you with that little bunny smile you had grown to love and said, "I wanted this to be what I saw when you first walked in the shop. The flowers all have meaning to them, I asked Yoongi hyung to help me pick which ones to use. The top one is for freedom or joy, and the others all mean love in one way or another. I thought that maybe they would help you feel that way about yourself."

You smiled and pulled him close, "I love it, thank you."

He mumbled something and looked to the side. You reached up and placed your hand on his cheek, guiding him to meet your eyes. He clears his throat and repeats himself barely loud enough for you to hear, "Y/N, will you please go on a date with me?"

[fairyshuuu]

wild valley pt2 | chanyeol

.summary. Park Chanyeol; sweat rolling down a naked back mixed with motor oil, you; white sugar sticking to your gums at sunset– ice cream flavored. Drugs, booze, money. He’s everything you’re not, the question is – for how long? .word count. 5.6k .mechanic!au | gang!au | car shop!au. .pairing. chanyeol x reader .genre. romance, angst (smut in the future)

.warnings. mature language, sexual mentions, drug use

♫ let me set the mood ♫

teaser.  part 1.  part 2.  part 3.   part 4.  part 5.  part 6.  part 7. (m)  part 8. (m)

For it being such a small room, this is probably the most calm place in the whole garage. The front desk is crowded by Baekhyun’s obnoxious presence, and the main room is always packed with the bunch of them, whether work is being done or not. But this room, hanging almost separate from the main room, feels peaceful. The windows are covered by thin, black curtains to keep out some of the heat, instead relying on the sharp brightness from the UV’s lining the ceiling.

It’s a place he’s comfortable with, having gone here enough times to know it inside out and back again. The loud buzzing of the needle is, if anything but that, the rhythm in which his blood pumps and his bones shake. Literally. Jongdae lets out a little breath as his tongue peeks out of his lips, almost finished filling in the big black area of the drawing. Chanyeol lets his eyes go around the room, glancing over the many navy filing cabinets filled with designs and drawings. The door connecting it to the garage is glass, but has blinds to cover it as well.

You can never be too careful, Chanyeol guesses. After all, having tattoos isn’t illegal, but giving them is, and though police are corrupted beyond belief, Jongdae probably doesn’t feel like doing time. Better safe than sorry. The blond moves the tattoo gun with an ease that only comes from many years of practice, on himself and on Chanyeol probably. Some of the smaller tattoos on Yeol’s lower arms are slightly faded or have spread out, proof of the practice his friend has put in to get where he is.

Though he could cover them up, the tattoos have their own memories, and so he chooses to keep them. Chanyeol pulls in a deep breath as he looks over at his bicep, able to imagine the finished piece already. At his little hiss, Jongdae looks over to check if he’s doing good, to which Chanyeol nods out of habit. “Can we take a little break, I want a smoke,” he sighs though, looking at the shine of the white lights on the polished concrete. Jongdae pulls the needle from his skin to wipe some of the blood and excess ink away, before grinning down at his friend.

“I’m ‘this’ close to finishing it, Yeol.” He holds his two index fingers about a hair apart, and shakes his head. “You really can’t sit out the rest? You have a problem.” As if he doesn’t know that himself. Chanyeol rolls his eyes and pushes himself up, before freezing mid-way.

“Ah shit, you’ll have to wrap it up then, right?” Jongdae nods with a knowing grin, the wrapping up process is annoying to say the least. With a groan, Chanyeol drops back down on the chair, running a hand through his white hair in annoyance. “Fine, finish it then. But hurry, I need to take a leak.”

Jongdae glares at him, before pushing his head back down. “I’m not gonna hurry anything, unless you want to mess it all up.” Jongdae brushes his hair out of his face, and turns the machine back on, grabbing a steady hold on his arm. “Now, quit being annoying and stop flexing.” Chanyeol grins, before relaxing into the seat, and looking back at the ceiling. A soft ring announces the new presence before he even opens the door. Chanyeol doesn’t flinch when the needle is pushed back in his skin.

The door is shoved open, revealing the older, dark haired man. “You sure took your time,” Jongdae sighs, but gratefully turning over his shoulder to smile at Junmyeon. The elder has a tray of coffees, and hands them to the others with a little nod. “Thank you.”

Chanyeol grabs onto the cup with his free hand, and immediately takes a big gulp. “If I’m not allowed to feed my one addiction, I’ll feed the other.” The guys smile at him, though Junmyeon looks at him with a little disproving frown. The brunet plops down in the chair of Jongdae’s desk, brushing some of the papers to the side. He takes off his jacket and lays it over the back of the chair, before leaning closer to inspect Yeol’s arm. Said man sighs deeply. “I’ve got something to mention though, Suho.”

“What’s up?” he asks, frown now settling deeper between his brows. Maybe it’s the fact that Yeol speaks so little, that makes both of his friends worried right away. Whatever is important enough to tell, must be important enough to worry about.

“I, uh-” Chanyeol pulls in some air at a particularly painful part, before looking between the two others, “I found someone trying to break in yesterday night. When I came back from the club, while you guys stayed. I came here so I could work some more, right?” Both nod, Jongdae finishing the last few black lines covering his arm. “I didn’t recognize him, so it’s probably nothing to worry about. I scared him away, but the lock to the door needs to be changed.”

Junmyeon bites his bottom lip in thought, before giving a curt nod. “I’ll check for any new gang mentions just in case, but it doesn’t sound too dangerous.” He places a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to go find Yixing, he’ll know if anything is up. Find me when you’re done here, yeah?” With Chanyeol’s nod as agreement, Junmyeon makes his way to the door, setting off the bell again. “Byun, where’s Lay at?”

Jongdae sighs deeply, and leans back. He wipes the rag over his work again, and smiles. “I think— you’re done, man. Let’s go see it in the mirror, yeah?” Jongdae grabs his hand to pull him up, and wipes his stained hands on his pants, before giving the taller a little poke. “Hey, Yeol?”

“Hm?” Chanyeol looks over to the blond, and raises an eyebrow. Jongdae is probably one of the people least concerned about the gang wars and the politics, but even he has a sharp frown lining his brow.

“You sure it’s nothing? It might not seem like much, but that’s always how it starts. I can’t help but think of Dongkyu whenever new groups of people arrive in town.”

“Don’t tell Junmyeon that,” Chanyeol says, voice lowering slightly.

Jongdae nods. “Why do you think I waited until he left? I know I shouldn’t worry, but— Just rather have you be careful, is all. I’m not planning on losing anyone else.” Chanyeol doesn’t answer, doesn’t need to for Jongdae to understand his response. Chanyeol too- has lost enough people he cared about. “Let’s go look at your newest decoration now, come on,” Jongdae brightens, shoving him towards the full-body mirror next to the desk. “If you like it we can wrap it up. And then you’ll have to come back probably in a few days to check for any patchy parts.”

Chanyeol grins at his excitement, and checks the new tattoo in the mirror, right in the center of his bicep. The skin is still red from the intrusion, but soon it’ll heal and leave another memory on his skin. This one is a deer skull, Jongdae’s design and it fits right in with his others. He gives his friend a small smile, and squeezes his shoulder. “Thanks, Chen. It looks great.”

“I’m glad.”

You pull your hair out of it’s messy bun, and breathe out deeply, trying to settle your heartbeat. Your clammy hands are wiped on your pants, before push them to your sides. You’re not the most sporty person by far, but going on a run always makes you feel better. Definitely now you’ve been eating all this ice cream. You sigh and make your way to the door, ignoring the cigarette ends on the sidewalk. It really seems that everyone in this city except you and your sister smoke.

When you ring the bell, there’s no answer. You look around the street with a frown. Your sister’s car is nowhere to be seen, but that isn’t out of the ordinary. There’s barely any space to park, so she chooses to leave it around the corner most times. You huff, before walking over to the window. Your big sister always leaves the key on the top of the windowsill, a place just obvious enough for people not to try it out. The white paint of the windows are chipped, showing the wood under it in multiple places. They’re also impossibly high, and you’re stuck wondering how Yuna ever got it up there in the first place.

No matter how much you reach, you can’t get up there. You glare at the windowsill, before taking a step back. Fine, then you’ll have to resort to other measures. You bend down and kick your shoe off, before tossing it at the windowsill. It makes a loud thump when it hits, but still the stupid key doesn’t fall down. This is why you should always have a key on you. You hop over and pick up the shoe again, now using it to try and reach higher.

“Need help?” a soft voice sounds. You’re so surprised that you physically jump, turning on your heel. The man that stands on the sidewalk is tall, and at least a good five inches taller than you. He has soft features, you first notice, bright, round eyes and a cute button nose. His lips are prettily curled in a natural smile. His dark, orange hair looks surprisingly amazing on him, and is messed casually forward to hide most of his brows. You can’t help but notice the piercing in his nose, and the multiples littering his ears as they catch the sunlight.

He’s wearing a black, leather jacket with a badge on the right side, blue and red, and ripped dark jeans that fit tightly around his thighs. His shoes are worn to the point where you can’t recognize what brand they would be, but the black combat boots still look stylish on him. He’s really handsome, and so you feel immediately embarrassed being caught looking like this, sweaty and gross. He doesn’t seem to care too much though. His warm eyes glint when you don’t respond right away, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, I was just- uhm—” you panic, putting your shoe back down. What if he thinks you’re trying to do something illegal? Because you’re not, you’re just an idiot.

“Don’t worry,” he smiles, stepping into the dry grass and closer to you, “I know Yuna hides her key there. Let me help.” Before you can move out of the way, he’s reaching up over you for the key. This means your face is level with his chest, only covered in a dark gray shirt. You notice he smells impossibly good, like something fruit, sweet and sugary. He smiles wider when he hands you the key, before taking a few steps out of your space. When you kinda just stare at him for a moment, he flushes. “Oh, I’m— I’m a friend of Yuna’s roommate, I’ve been here quite a lot. I’m Baron.”

He hold his hand out to you, so you slowly take it, shaking just briefly. Though you want to be sceptical about this stranger, he looks genuine. “I’m Y/N, Yuna’s little sister. I moved in a couple of days ago.” He nods in understanding, before you turn to the door. “Uhm- come in.” When you unlock the door, you slip in quickly, kicking off your shoes and looking around the street. Baron follows behind politely. “Is that your car?” you point out, gesturing at the dark blue car parked across the street. You don’t know much about cars, but it’s a pretty one, and looks like it’s been taken great care of.

“Yes, it’s my baby, that one.” He smiles, and stuffs his hands in his pockets. For a second you just stand in silence, before Baron speaks up. “Oh, I came to get some of the stuff Maria left behind. She was gonna come get it herself but she had to work today. You don’t have an idea where it is, by any chance?” As you close the door, you push out your lips and shake your head.

“I don’t know, sorry. Yuna cleared everything out before I came, so I don’t know where she would have put everything. But I’m sure she didn’t just toss it out!” You squeeze past him to walk over to the door at the end of the hall and open it. “Take a seat, you can wait here for her. I don’t know where she ran off to so quickly, but I think she’ll be home soon enough.”

You open the curtains to let some of the light in, and take a deep breath. Inside, the temperature is just great. The coldness sticks to your skin, a grateful change from the suffocating warmth outside. “You’ve been here for a while, right? Is it always this hot?”

Baron laughs as he takes a seat in the sofa, and looks over at you. “Pretty much. A lot of my friends are new in town too, they’re struggling with the heat. It’s pretty much the only thing they can talk about, if I’m being honest. That it’s too warm to do anything during the day.” He gestures his face at you though. “But if you can go for a run in this weather, you must be pretty heat resistant.”

“I just forced myself to,” you giggle, “because if I keep eating ice cream like I’ve been doing, I’m pretty sure I’ll end up becoming one myself.” As he laughs, you hear the familiar sound of a car making it’s way down the street, and you press your face to the glass. Yuna’s old white car passes the window, slowing down. “Ah, there she is. I’m gonna go take a cold shower, upstairs.” You turn to him again, and give him a little wave. “It was nice meeting you, Baron.”

The young man blinks his wide eyes a few times, before nodding. “Yeah, it was nice meeting you too. Maybe I’ll see you again?”

“If you come buy some ice cream of mine, sure,” you wink, before slipping through the door to open it for your sister.

It’s late, though he’s lost track of how late exactly. All he knows is that good people are asleep right now, and he’s not. Chanyeol blows out all the smoke in his lungs, and looks around his living room. There’s too much people gathered here, but for once he doesn’t mind. Tonight feels like a night he’ll call his, having modded the car Jongin won with, and though the King of the streets drives the best, it’s the teamwork that did it. Well, that’s what he thinks, at least. Junmyeon sits next to him, tossing back the amber liquid in his glass like it’s water.

Chanyeol hasn’t drank much yet, not tonight. Tonight, he hungers for something stronger. He aches for something to make his world float, and this sends him to sit up from the couch to make his way through the people. The good thing about partying in your own house, is that no one can tell you what to do, and what not to. He pulls the end of his smoke out of his lips to put it out on the stone counters as he passes them, entering into the room connected to his living room. 

The kitchen has significantly less people, but has a clearer purpose. The pillows tossed in the corner are occupied by people making out, some sprawled out over the cold tiles without a care. His coffee table has been dragged over to the middle of the room, and is surrounded by people sitting on the floor. White powder is spread on the table, as someone drags clear lines to separate it. Some people are pouring new drinks, way too much vodka being poured into the glasses, not that anyone would care.

He makes his way over to the corner to search for his friend, as music blares through his speakers. But sadly, he can see only a tuft of Baekhyun’s brown hair, where he sits with a body on top of his and their faces connected. If he would try to get in there now, Byun would definitely connect his fist with Chanyeol’s nose. Fuck. He doesn’t feel like drinking so much that his head feels like it’s being squashed by gravity in the morning. He looks over at the small table, watching as a girl parts the clean lines. As he stares, the girl looks up to catch his eyes, and cocks her head to ask him over.

But Chanyeol shakes his head and pushes past some people to go for the drinks instead. Coke is only for very special days, and this isn’t one. Before he can make it there, a strong hand wraps around his shoulder and pulls him back. Jongin. His purple hair is brushed sleek back, eyes free but equally as dark. He smiles at the taller, and then points through the people at what Chanyeol can only assume is where Baekhyun is making out. “I saw you try to find him, but he’s a little preoccupied right now. I thought business came before sex, but not for him, it seems.”

“I don’t blame him. It’s hard to shake habits,” Chanyeol nods, low voice barely reaching over the music. “I don’t want to disturb him when he’s like that. I’ll just get whined at, or worse.” Jongin nods and laughs, lifting his shoulders.

When Chanyeol turns to go find his spot in the couch again, Jongin pulls him back though. “Oh, Yeol. I have—” he reaches in his inner jacket pocket, and pulls something out. “I got them from Byun earlier tonight, and was gonna do them with Kyungsoo. But he’s gone off wherever the the fuck, so if you want.” The round pills in his hand are half red, half blue, small enough to loose if you’re not careful. Chanyeol takes a breath, before taking one of them and knocking his fist with the younger’s.

“Cheers. To another victory, ey.” He pops the pill in his mouth to feel in slowly dissolve, watching as Jongin does the same. “I’m gonna go join the mess in the main room, you coming?” Jongin opens and closes his eyes a few times, before nodding. As they push back through the people, Chanyeol takes off his jacket. It’s already too warm and he’ll surely get even more sweaty in half an hour. He tosses the jacket on the dining table, and makes his way over to the couch to crash down next to Chen and Suho.

Jongdae looks over at him with slightly hazy eyes when he does, lifting a brow. “You don’t look very drunk for the host of the party. You need some help there? If you mix whiskey and a shot of vodka—”

“I’m good, Dae. Don’t worry about me.” He holds his tongue out then, showing the last of the dissolving pill on his tongue. Jongdae’s eyes widen a little, most likely since Chanyeol doesn’t do this a lot. It’s true, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys it any less than his friends do. He lets his head fall back into the couch, and takes a deep breath. The air smells like alcohol, like smoke and weed and strangely— like memories. Maybe this is why he chooses not to throw parties in his own house anymore. When Jongdae’s hand comes around his wrist in concern, Chanyeol just smirks slightly. “What’s up? You want a kiss?”

Jongdae rolls his eyes before breaking out laughing. “Every time I’m genuinely concerned about you, you have to do something to make yourself seem like even more of an asshole, huh?” Chanyeol just smiles, and looks across the crowd of people gathered in front of his eyes. Bodies move together, swaying limply to the beat like they can’t control their limbs anymore. They most likely can’t, since he knows that no one here is sober. As he watches, tracks of magenta seem to follow the movements, his eyes heavy and light at the same time. He can vaguely make out Jongin’s face in the mix, grinding against some girl with fiery red hair.

When he looks over to his side, Jongdae’s gone. His head swirls, and when he looks up again it’s to realize that he has no idea how much time has passed since taking the pill. It could be a few seconds or an hour if him laying here, he has no idea. His body is hot, clothes clinging tightly to him. The alcohol he had earlier feels burning in his stomach, the good kind of heat. And then someone is stepping in front of his view, and before he can get annoyed she puts his hands on her hips.

Chanyeol looks up from under his lashes, and takes the girl in. It’s the girl who was pulling lines on the coffee table earlier, her hair how tied up and her eyes dark, pupils wide. She leans forward to put her hand on his shoulder as Chanyeol rights himself a bit, hovering her lips over his ear. “We don’t know each other yet.” She pulls back to brush some of his hair out of his face, and then leans in again. Her lips burn against the cold of his piercings along the shell of his ear. “I’m Hana.”

Chanyeol slides his hands down her hips to pull her on top of him on the couch, body to body on fire. “That’s easily fixed then, Hana. I’m Yeol.” The girl tilts her head back a little to smile at him with red lips and bleached hair, her eyes black. She mouths something he can’t make out, before their lips meet in a rough pull of desire. His fingers tangle in her hair, her boobs pressed against his chest and her thighs slotted over his easily.

“Take me home, Yeol,” she whispers in his ear, tugging on the soft hair at his neck. Chanyeol smiles when her lips come back over his, her moan going lost in the sea of music and people. He breathes out deeply, before standing up and holding her body up in his arms. Hana squeaks and wraps her arms around his neck.

“We won’t have to go very far, baby.” He pushes through some people he can’t really make out, and licks a strip up from her chest to her neck. At her moan, Chanyeol smiles against her skin. “Bet you’ll look so pretty spread out on my bed.”

Today has been a slow day. It’s Saturday, which you would think would bring tons of customers, but nope. Yuna warned you that everyone in this burning city goes out on fridays, or, well— that they go out all the time but most on fridays. So everyone is probably in bed with a big, fat hangover. You’d call it unfortunate, but it doesn’t change much. You peek out of the shop to look both sides of the street, but everything is empty. It’s coming up on lunch time soon, so a bit of peace is appreciated.

It’s not that you don’t want to go out or anything, but you still don’t have friends to go with. You’d feel horrible making your sister go with you, Yuna’s really not a party animal. She could be, if she wanted to, but your sister has grown out of the party fase when she was forced to move out by your parents and figure out a way to make money all on her own. You sigh, and wave some cool air in your face with a paper flyer.

Since Yuna has left you to take over the shop, she’s been looking at opening another shop, and you couldn’t be more proud. You’re really lucky having her. You turn when the machine beeps, indicating that your caramel and clove ice cream is ready. That’s probably the most fun part of working here. You get to experiment with flavours and create your own kinds. As you ungracefully plonk the heavy bowl beside the others and slot it into the free hole, a person makes their way up the street.

White hair, dark clothes— and immediately a smile makes it’s way up to your lips. The stranger from before is wearing a black t-shirt today, his overalls only half on and tied around his waist. This way you get a view of the tens of tattoos adorning his arms, too far to make out in detail but impressive to say the least. He has his signature frown on his face, looking appropriately pissed after what you guess must be a hangover.

You’d be pissed too if you had to work with the pounding between your ears. The white haired man makes his way across the street much like you remember him doing, feet dragging and cigarette between his fingers. As soon as he gets close enough, you put your paper flyer down and brush some of the strands of hair behind your ear. “Hey, you. I knew I’d see you again some day.”

He looks up from the road when you talk, and stops in his tracks. He’s still standing in the street, but doesn’t seem to care much. He just lifts an eyebrow at you, and crosses his arms over his chest. “You work on Saturdays too? Really?” Though he looks standoffish, you swear that you can see some kind of intrigue sparkle in his eyes, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

“I don’t know why you say it like that, when I’m clearly not the only one.” When you cock your head at his outfit, he shakes his head and walks off the street onto the sidewalk, only a few feet away from you now. You can see the dark circles under his eyes, dark purple against his soft skin. You don’t know this man, so you shouldn’t care, but some worry settles in your stomach while you look. “Maybe you should take a day off, though, get some sleep? I’m not trying to tell you what to do but you look tired. And if I know anything, it’s that you always work better after a nap!”

The man licks both of his fingers and pressed them to the end of his smoke, putting it out that way, before he tosses it further up the sidewalk. Rude. Though he doesn’t say anything, you can see that your words work through into his mind, eyes moving from the floor to you. Eventually he sighs, and shakes his head at you, his low voice sinking even lower. “I don’t need sleep. And I’d suggest you don’t give random people on the street advice, since not everyone will appreciate your opinions as much as I do.”

As he tilts his head back a little to look at the clouds passing by, you get the opportunity to see the bruises lining both sides of his neck. These, though similar in color, are clearly not from tiredness, and suddenly you realize that you might have held him on a completely wrong level. When he looks back down, he raises his both eyebrows at your silence, before reaching into his pocket. Maybe this isn’t a person you’d make friends with, you suddenly think, looking at him more objectively now. Boys like him are the boys parents tell their daughters to stay away from, but you’ve never been one for judging others by their appearance. 

As he takes out the red and white box, you notice how dirty his hands are, covered in a black, grimy oil that leaves black marks on everything he touches. The man doesn’t care, and so that probably means this isn’t a special occurrence to him. “How come you always walk here?” you decide to ask, not willing to let the conversation die down just yet, “Don’t you have a car?” This makes him snort, the sound deep and too short to fully be enjoyed, but enough to make your skin glow.

“I walk here because it’s in walking distance, and because it’s the only moment of my day where I am not surrounded by cars.” He has a small smile on his lips as he looks up at you, but as soon as it came his face smooths back to that same frown you’re getting used to. “What’s it to you?”

Shamelessly, you roll your head to the side and tap a little beat into the glass of the display, smiling. “The more I know about you, the closer I get to your heart.”

“Don’t have one,” he sighs, plopping his unlit cigarette between his lips and putting the box back in his pocket.

“I don’t believe that,” you say, just looking at him for a second. When he looks back, you giggle. He looks about ready to escape this conversation, so you pout slightly. “Knowing you won’t give me your name, I’ll go back to my first method, which is selling you something cold instead. I made new sugar & spice flavor, if you wanna try it—” you lean over the bar, ignoring the feeling of the cold metal digging into your belly.

He sighs and looks over his shoulder once, removing the black stains on his large hands with the flimsy piece of cloth he pulls out of his back pocket. The frown on his face is deep again, like he’s constantly tired of you, and maybe he is. But you decide not to care too much, since he could have walked away by now. He’s still standing here, isn’t he? “I already told you I don’t like ice cream.”

“You also told me you don’t want to talk, but here we are.” At your playful grin, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, lips flattening into a line. Once his fingers are decently clean, he gets rid of the rag and strikes his smoke with his lighter. “Oh, come on! It’s hot and you look tired, and everyone likes ice cream! You can’t just ignore me for the rest of the time I’m here.” This makes him raise one eyebrow, and pull open the door to the neighboring shop.

“Watch me,” he says, and with those deep spoken words he walks into the run-down diner, not looking back. You sigh deeply as you watch his figure disappear into the darkness of the hall, but can’t help the wide smile that comes to your lips.

As your sister chops the bell peppers, you peel the carrots, watching her over your shoulder. She looks tired, hair messily pulled in a ponytail that has chucks spilling out carelessly. Seems the heat is making everyone tired. Or maybe, not everyone has that childlike enthusiasm anymore. Most people have had it harder than you have after all. You sigh softly, before pouting. “Hey, Yun?”

“Yes, Dew,” she calls, voice smiley despite her slight frown as she puts the vegetables in a bowl. You smile a little at your childhood nickname, honeydew. It was the nickname your aunt used to call you after your favorite ice cream flavor, and somehow it stuck.

“You know a lot of the people here, right?”

Your sister hums slightly, and walks across the kitchen to grab a spatula. “Well, I wouldn’t say a lot. I know a decent amount of people, yes. Why?”

“There’s this guy that I keep seeing around. He has white hair and a bunch of tattoos, and is very handsome. And I don’t know his name but—”

Yuna freezes mid-motion at your words, before she turns. Her eyes look wide, mouth opening slightly. “Is he really tall? Kind of broody, doesn’t smile a lot?” You nod, surprised at her ability to describe him so accurately. “That’s Park Chanyeol. He’s—” she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, and frowns, “for lack of a better word, he’s trouble. Him and his friends sort of run this city, when lights go out. I’ve never had to deal with them personally, but I know that they run that car repair shop down in the city. Exo Customs.”

“Park Chanyeol,” you repeat, looking at the floor with a little frown.

“Oh, no.” Yuna points her finger at you, and shakes her head as she wipes her hands. “No, you don't. I know that look you have, it never brings anything good. You can make friends with anyone else in this town, but not the Exo guys. They— I know you see the good in everyone, but they’re not to be messed with.” She looks intently into your eyes, checking for any kind of disagreement, but she won’t find any.

You pout. “You say that as if they’d want to make friends with me anyway. This Chanyeol guy always glares at me whenever I see him.” When you turn away from her, Yuna sighs deeply, and comes over to give you a hug.

“I’ll take you to meet some of my friends tomorrow, okay? I know you’re a social, little butterfly, and all this isolation must be draining you.” When she gives you a little wink, you smile at her gratefully. She knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. “You’ll be able to make all the friends you could ever want, I mean that. Just no Exo, ‘kay?”

“No Exo,” you repeat, smiling down at the cutting board in front of you.

Oof. I hope you liked this chapter!! Having a slow start, it’s nice. For once you’re not just dropped into the shit! But if you know me, you know it won’t stay this easy. So strap in or something, because hopefully we’ll get dramatic soon. Thank you for reading, my little muffins!

If you want to be (un)tagged for this series, you can send me a message!  @ninibears-erigom @suhoerections @kimjongdaely @kyungseokie @kpop---scenarios @yeoldontknow @baekwell--tart @skjdln @strongpowerhope @i-dont-wanna-kokostop @brie02 @baby-hands-x-x-blr @baek-byunies  @shxrl4747 @lucymheng @byunfirstlady @chanyeolol @my-spot-at-the-sun

[meditatemoremedicateless]

Gold Can Stay: The First Of Many (epilogue)

Art by @nerdylazorz​

Summary: Max, Chloe, and Rachel reach the end of their journey in LA, but their lives together are just beginning.

In tribute to @raycats and @loveisstrange-vn.

Part 8 of 8 Read the full story on Ao3 or ff.net.

My first time seeing L.A. is . . . not impressive.

We arrive about half an hour before rush hour, but even so, there is traffic into and throughout the city. We drive by an untold number of small businesses and chains until the whole city sort of blurs together. It was like this for me in Seattle too, at first, but without a place to get settled, the feeling never quite fades. The plan is to sleep parked near the beach somewhere tonight, so the three of us agree to eat something and make our way to Santa Monica Pier.

The Pier has all sorts of stuff - a small amusement park and an arcade, for starters - but we don't have much time before closing. Around sunset, Rachel grabs my hand and waves at Chloe, dragging me along swiftly to the Ferris Wheel.

It is sunset by the time the ride starts, and Rachel wastes no time taking my hand and resting her head against my shoulder.

"Tired?"

She nods, nuzzling me. "All this driving's got me wiped. If there's one thing Arcadia Bay's got up on LA it's got to be the time spent cooking in a pickup truck waiting for the car ahead of you to move ten feet."

I let go of her hand so I can wrap my arm around her instead.

"Yeah, you're right. That's the only thing Arcadia Bay's got going for it."

"Yep," Rachel replies, nodding even more emphatically. "Only thing."

I stroke her hair and she leans on me even more, like a cat pressing against my leg.

I ask her, "So, what's it like being back in LA? Is your strength returning? Do you like Fallout Boy again?"

"1) Yes and 2) I never stopped."

She sits up straight, though still so close to me I can keep my arm around her. We're at the height of the wheel and her face turns wistful.

She says, "It's like . . . watching a movie trailer. Being back here on an adventure is more fun than it will really be when I move here, I know that. It's going to be really hard, even with a job to get me started. But all the same, I can't help but be excited to return. To be back home."

Even though I've never lived in L.A., I know what she means. Home is waiting for us here - both the new and different, and the intimately familiar. It's the future.

"I can't wait for a holiday to come and visit you," I say, squeezing her shoulder.

Rachel laughs, warm and sweet. "I haven't even left yet!" she giggles, waving it off. After a beat, though, she says, "By the way, I'm going to get a queen-sized bed, so when you do visit, we can sleep together comfortably. I'm looking forward to more motel-style comfort instead of fighting you for my covers."

I dodge the taunt with an, "Aww, you're sweet," and kiss her cheek. She turns to me for another kiss, long and gentle, and her giggling softens to silence.

A minute later, our foreheads resting together, I say softly, "Be my girlfriend." I had planned to ask, and ask all cute like 'Can I be your girlfriend,' but in the moment I just want to have her, to know that she's choosing me like I'm choosing her.

"Okay," she whispers back, and the instant I see her crack a smile, I kiss her again.

The kissing continues for a long time, my self-consciousness gradually fading away to press kisses to her neck and collarbone. Once we finally pull away to take a breather, I feel the need to blurt out, "Just so, um, you know - I've always wanted to have sex on a Ferris wheel. Not this one specifically, but, um -"

My sentence quickly mutates into meaningless mumbling as Rachel's hand slides from my knee along the inside of my thigh. That draws out a smirk on her face, and she leans close to me like she's going to start kissing my neck. I'm steeling myself against turning into just a puddle of a person when she whispers, strangely husky, "Oh yeah?" right against my ear.

I'm still racing to figure out how to deal with very suddenly wanting to have sex on this Ferris Wheel when the ride stops with us half-way down. The ride is over. It's time to get off go.

Rachel kisses my cheek and leans back as if we were just casually avoiding the ride. "I'll have to bring you back here sometime then, huh?"

I don't think I manage a coherent response before it's time to get off the ride.

We spend most of the next day at a tattoo parlor. Even though I promised Rachel that this is what I wanted to do to celebrate, I hadn't been all that into tattoos until I moved back to Arcadia Bay. Plus, it hasn't even been a month since it became legal for me to get a tattoo!

Despite all of that, I'm the first one to decide on a design I like. I'd been sketching out different deer over the past week, but after I do a few tweaks, I show it to the artist and she assures me it'll be easy enough to do.

I barely bleed, which I take to be a good sign, even if it hurts like hell. I get a small doe on my right shoulder blade, looking up at three stars in the sky. If Chloe and Rachel get why I added the stars, at least they don't say anything about it. Even I think it's a little cheesy.

Chloe's much faster about making up a design than Rachel, and she's in right after me. She shows three designs to the artist, but after mulling it over (and being egged on by Rachel), she decides to get all three design on her forearm - a raven, a blue jay, and a butterfly. She insists she has a good reason for each of them but refuses to explain to anyone 'who isn't her wife' so Rachel and I are just left googling them to get an idea.

Typical of Chloe, the designs are interwoven and complex, so she only gets the outline done, but even that takes long enough that Rachel is finally able to get an idea of what she wants.

Rachel had a bunch of different designs to start with, but once things got narrowed down to animal themes, she started getting creative. She didn't show us the final design (that she pulled off the internet) and insisted we'd just have to find out once it was taking shape.

I don't know why, but I kind of assumed Rachel would be stoic when getting her tattoo - the dragon wrapped around her calf was so large, I figured she must just be immune to the needle. But as it turns out, she's actually a baby about it. A few minutes after they start work on her shoulder, though, she asks me to sit next to her and hold her hand so she'll stay still. She practically crushes my hand over the next hour, but I can't say I mind being relied on for something like this. For a first date as girlfriends . . . it's pretty nice.

Chloe and I take guesses every few minutes at what the design is as soon as we see it has a wing, but since we both wouldn't stop guessing 'Sphinx' we totally missed the griffin until the head was complete.

We emerge that evening from the parlor looking like we got the shit beat out of us and with so little money I need to text my Mom to make sure we'll have food on the trip back to Arcadia Bay, but it's worth it.

I run into Victoria for the first time the day after we arrive home in the shower room before classes start. She spits toothpaste out in the sink and wipes her mouth the second she sees me, and I brace myself for whatever stinging witticism she has ready for me.

She just says, "You burn really bad, Caulfield."

That's . . . fair. I shrug. "I wasn't really born with the sun in mind, I guess."

I'm not really used to seeing her this early, before all the makeup and styled hair. She looks gaunt, but softer. Almost approachable. Almost.

"How was your trip?"

I smile as best I can this early in the morning, scratching the back of my head. I should have brought my bracelets so I'd have something to fidget with during a conversation.

"It was a great time, I think. I got a lot of really great photos and, I mean, it was my first time in California for anything but a stop in LAX. It's beautiful down there."

She shrugs. "If you like the semi-desert, I guess." If it's meant to be cutting, she doesn't put the usual amount of work into making it sound harsh. So much of her usual spite looks drained away - that, or I'm just really off-guard seeing her without makeup.

I'm waiting to go into the shower and she's waiting to leave, but neither of us actually moves to end the conversation. Instead, we stand there in awkward silence for a moment.

Finally, she says, "I actually . . . saw some of what you posted on Instagram. They were, in fact, great shots. Even the candid ones," she rolls her eyes on the word 'candid', but I think she just means 'pictures of Rachel.'

"Thanks," I reply, smile coming a little easier this time. "Have you heard back about your submission to that gallery?"

"Not yet," she says, shaking her head. Then, settling her stare on me, "But don't get too comfortable. Even if I don't make this one, there will be another. I'm going to come out on top once all is said and done this year."

Even if she's trying to be intimidating, the whole thing feels a little too shonen for me to be cowed. "We'll see about that," I reply.

Satisfaction coats her face, and she finally grabs her shower caddy and goes to leave. Just as she reaches the door, she gives a little back-handed wave and says, "Mazel tov, by the way," and is gone before I can say anything back.

There are many firsts on Tuesday, December 24, when Rachel and I sneak off before a Christmas party with her dad and buddies from his band. It's a crisp, cold afternoon, sunset already fast approaching before it's even hit 5pm, and I hope I'll at least have a few minutes of light for photos by the time we reach the light house.

Rachel pauses when we reach the top of the path, and she drops my hand as I pull away.

"How . . . how did that get here?" She asks, pointing at the lighthouse door where my guitar case sits.

"Trickery," I offer, and she follows me cautiously.

"I thought we were here to take photos," Rachel says, eyes narrows with suspicion, arms crossed over her body. She takes a seat on one of the rocks surrounding the fire pit, and I sit across from her, pulling my guitar from the case.

"Oh, we are. I just didn't say what of."

"What of, then?" Rachel asks, even more suspicious now.

"You. But I have something for you first."

"What is it?" she asks, edging into playful hostility. "Some sort of . . . romantic trick? A sneak attack? 'Hey there Delilah?'"

"Close, and don't think I didn't consider playing that song. But no. I, uh. I wrote something for you."

Rachel's face drops into sudden horror. "You didn't."

"I did."

"Max," she whines, "that's way too good of a gift. I'll - I don't know, cry or something."

"Babe," I begin. It works like a charm, leaving her doe-eyed, if still grumpy. "Please let me play my song for you."

She pouts, pulling her legs up close to her torso so she can rest her hands and head on her knees. "Fine."

She looks nervous, and it makes me want to kiss her, but I can't give in yet. Rachel's so beautiful and sweet that it's hard to ignore, but at the very least, I can channel my frustration at not touching her this very instant into playing.

I strum the keys and tune the guitar one last time, and then begin.

Ashes to the ground Fall the wrong way round World upside down I know I know

Home a distant time Smoke ore clearer skies Everybody lies I know I know

In every way you do More than I could say you knew And life is so strange it's true But so are you

She sits eerily still, eyes trained on me. There's no smile or anything like I expected, but soon she buries her face into her legs with her eyes closed. I don't know what to make of that, but I keep playing.

I will play the game I will take the blame I will break the same I know I know

In every way you do More than I could say you knew And life is so strange it's true But so are you

Ashes to the ground Fall the wrong way round I will let you down I know I know

In every pause you knew Take my breath away, you do And life is so strange it's true But so are you

It's not until the song is over that I can finally hear what I was missing. Softly, softly Rachel cries, and as soon as I hear it, I drop the guitar along the side of a rock. She looks up as I approach, wiping the tears off her face.

"Baby - baby what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Rachel looks up at me, taking a few seconds while she struggles for words. After a second, she forfeits even that, and reaches up, cupping my face with her hands, pulling me down into a kiss.

"I - I told you I'd cry, dammit." She sniffles as we rest our heads together.

A feeling of awe fills my chest, warm and radiant. Not as energetic as electricity, but just as intense. Something new.

"I love you," she whispers.

It's the first time. And not for a second do I doubt it.

It's the first time, and I'm shaking. The cold wind from the light house makes a good excuse, but just the process of peeling off my clothes in front of her is what really makes me tremble. I haven't been topless in front of someone since I was a child, and the feeling of Rachel's hands on my sides are something totally new. She strokes my back while we kiss until the shivering stops, although it comes back in bursts every time she finds a sensitive spot on my skin with her hands or mouth.

That feeling of wonder refuses to leave, and I'm enveloped in it. I've never had what I'd call a 'religious experience,' but if I were to imagine a feeling of holiness, it would be this.

I don't know how many times I say 'I love you,' but it's too many to count.

The weeks after Rachel leaves are the loneliest I've had since I moved to Seattle, and Chloe is right there with me. We try to keep up our regular hang-outs, and when that fails, we try reverting to old habits. After about an hour of doodling on scraps of paper (and Chloe's bedroom floor) with songs autoplaying from her computer, a familiar track comes on. She sighs seconds into the song and rolls onto her back, and I follow suit a moment after.

"Rachel's alarm?"

She nods, "Yeah," patting at her vest pocket for a second. "God that makes me want a cigarette."

"Out?" I ask, reaching up towards the ceiling. The bracelet Rachel made for me isn't as brilliant in the dark of Chloe's room, but it's still pretty.

Rachel lifts her hand up as well. She's wearing a blue and white bracelet I feel like I haven't seen in a long time, or like I've only seen it in old photographs.

"I'm trying to quit, actually."

"Oh, for real?" I roll on my side, and Chloe drops her hand back onto her chest.

"Yeah. I mean, that stuff will kill ya, you know."

I place my hand on top of hers, more than a little happy and very lonely. "Proud of you."

Chloe doesn't respond; all she does is close her eyes and smile, waiting for the song to finish playing.

Anon asked: if youre cis why are you talking about trans issues on the internet. these arent about you. stop being a transphobe and shut the fuck up.

Every part of that makes my blood boil, and I'm not entirely sure why. I just know to the core of my being that they're wrong, even though I've expressed similar sentiments before. I don't particularly care what cis people have to say about trans issues online. But I've thought about this so much, I know it's not just something I made up on the spot. Is that what's really pissing me off, or is it . . .

noirangel: look, I get that you have good intentions behind being mean to me on Tumblr, but I'm going to need you to stop. I provided sources where I could, and drew from the experiences of trans people I know, including myself, wherever I couldn't. I'm not shutting up because these are my real, lived experiences, as well as those of people around me, and I don't appreciate this shit in my ask box just because you want me to be quiet. Please fuck off.

Holy shit. I said it. I really said it.

I'm not sure what to do next. I just typed it out online - can I just leave it like that? Does saying it one time make it true? How do I really know I'm trans?

This deteriorates quickly while I rapidly refresh my blog, waiting to see if there's any reaction to what I said. The first response I get is just a like, but even that feels like a breath of fresh air. The first person to see this, at least, didn't reject me. That's something. But there's someone I'm a little more concerned about than random people on the internet.

Max: hey hon, i've got kind of a weird question. Max: do you think you would still be interested in me even if I weren't a girl?

I expect a lengthy pause, maybe lots of suspicious questions.

Instead, Rachel responds after about thirty seconds with:

Rachel: yeah babe lol Rachel: ur hot and i love you Rachel: why?

God. God, I love her.

Max: haha I was just wondering. Max: I love you too ^^

I drop my phone onto my chest and let out a sigh of relief. That's not quite coming out just yet, but the security for one day is all I need right now.

Our first fight wasn't something I expected at all - I hadn't even realized at first we were having it. It clicked right around,

Me: Do you seriously think I'm cheating on you? Chloe and I are your best friends Rachel, we wouldn't just choose to blow everything up just because you're living away.

Rachel: I know, and I'm not saying that. And it's not like I think you would have chose to do anything, but things happen, you know? Maybe just one time when she was drunk or - or something.

Me: But we seriously didn't.

Rachel: I - o-okay. Fine. If you say so.

Me: Rachel.

Rachel: What, Max?

Me: Look, I get where you're coming from, but I'm seriously capable of making choices around these things. I don't just fall into romantic or sexual situations by pure accident - it doesn't really work for me that way. And if I thought something were going to happen between me and Chloe, I'd talk to you about it. Because I seriously, really wouldn't want to blow up our relationship because my relationship with Chloe has been changing.

Rachel: Has it?

Me: What?

Rachel: . . . been changing.

Me: Oh my god! No! Because I made conscious decisions against it. Please trust me.

Rachel:

Rachel: . . . you're right

Me: Hon, are you crying?

Rachel: Um . . . yeah, sorry, a little. It just, um.

Rachel: Sorry. I just realized none of this shit is about you, exactly. I'm expecting a lot of my own mistakes out of you and that's - that's not fair.

Me: What do you mean?

Rachel: I don't think I've ever been very . . . uh . . . forthcoming with you about what my and Chloe's relationship was like before you came back to Arcadia Bay.

Rachel: We, um . . . so. We were dating, I guess. We never made it super clear, but it was definitely a romantic thing.

Rachel: I loved her.

Me: I know.

Rachel: Did Chloe tell you?

Me: No. Do you remember that night in the motel in San Francisco, right before we started dating?

Rachel: No? Wait, yeah. Shit. Did you hear us talking?

Me: Yep.

Rachel: Well, fuck.

Rachel: Well, yeah. We were together. But we weren't very good at it. I know Chloe blames herself a lot for how it all fell apart, but if we're being honest, I think I was sabotaging it from the start. Chloe loved me so much and it really scared me - like I wasn't worthy of it or I'd mess it all up. Or something. So I made . . . sure of it. And I cheated on her. A lot. And I'd tell myself it was accidental, or that we weren't officially together so it didn't really count, and, just, stupid stuff like that.

Me: That's . . . pretty messed up, sweetie. But I think I get it.

Rachel: Yeah . . . you remember Frank?

Me:  Your ex?

Rachel: Yeah. I started seeing him while Chloe and I were still together. She never actually figured out who I was with, but once she realized I'd cheated on her, she blew up. And things were a total mess for a while, until I stopped seeing Frank and put things back together. And that's . . . right around when you moved back. And . . . we just never really talked out everything that happened.

Me: That . . . makes my first year back make a lot more sense.

Rachel: Yeah.

Me: And to be clear, I think you really messed up.

Rachel: I know.

Me: But I know Chloe doesn't hate you for it, and I don't hate you for it. But I know she's confused and hurt, still. She loves you.

Rachel: I know.

Me: I love you, too.

Rachel: I love you, too, hon. And . . . I. I miss you.

Me: I miss you, too.

Rachel: I miss Chloe too. Not just right now but . . . these past two years. Ever since you came back, it's felt like she's had eyes only for you, and I've been stupid jealous. It made being friends with you complicated, in the beginning. For a lot of reasons.

Me: I can definitely understand that. I'm not mad. We found our own rhythm - eventually.

Rachel: Ha! Just in time, too.

Rachel: Please don't tell Chloe that I miss her. I want to work things out, but it's still too . . .

Rachel: I'm still not ready.

Me: I won't say anything, I swear.

Rachel: You swear?

Me: I swear! I just said so.

Rachel: Okay. I love you. I'm sorry I dragged you down into all of my feelings like this. You're not me.

Me: I love you too. And you're not who you used to be either, Rachel.

Me: Let's . . . in the future, when something like this comes up, let's just talk, okay? I know things between the three of us are complicated, but I think we can make it work. I super believe in us.

Rachel: We're star-crossed, huh?

Me: Totally, actually bound by celestial forces.

Rachel: Even if we weren't, I'd still choose you, you know.

Me: You sap. I love you.

Rachel: I love you, too.

Our graduation is out on the football field across from the main school buildings, with about 100 chairs set out for students and faculty while families sit on the bleachers. It's uncomfortably hot, and most of the students are actively shading themselves with their mortarboard if they think they can get away from it.

Principal Wells clears his throat and says, "And now, we'll be hearing from our Salutatorian, Kate Marsh."

Kate graduates as our Salutatorian thanks to her taking 1 less AP class than Warren, and her speech is the one I'm really interested in hearing. Not that Warren's wasn't good exactly, it's just that he had me look it over a half-dozen times because "you're good at English" even though I scraped by the minimum GPA for college acceptance. Kate has been guarding the content of her speech carefully for months, but knowing her, she probably outlined its entire structure and theme months ahead of time before submitting a totally different speech a few weeks ago.

Kate walks slowly up to the podium, although she and the other students giving speeches are seated only a few paces back from it. She takes a few seconds to look at the paper with her speech, looks up at the audience, takes a deep breath, and smiles.

"I'd first like to say thank you - thank you to Blackwell Academy's staff and faculty, for the exceptional education and facilities you provided to us as students; thank you to my classmates for making this school the most challenging and rewarding year of my life; thank you to my family for supporting me this year and every year until now; and thank you to my friends for making Blackwell my home away from home.

I would like to speak frankly about my high school career. When I say it was challenging and rewarding, I do not mean that just intellectually, or, as those of you who have been through high school might say, socially. I've suffered from depression for many years, most acutely since I entered high school. It wasn't that I was bullied or had exceptional struggles in my life; my brain just ticks a little differently than others. When I came to Blackwell Academy, I lost the familiar things that kept me standing, and even with the excellent instruction available to me here, I couldn't imagine getting through this school year. I guess you could say it was a dark time for me.

But there was light here, and it reached me. My teachers were a light - they treated me with kindness and dignity, and helped me continue my work even when there were days I couldn't make it out of bed. My friends were a light - they stood by me, listened to me, supported me, and loved me. My faith, which had never connected closely with my school life before I came here, was a light I shared with many people, some of whom had the same background as me, but most did not. All of these lights showed me the way forward, even when it was slow and stumbling."

Kate pauses, as her voice is shaking too much to speak coherently. She takes two deep breaths, and continues.

"The kindness I was shown as a student at Blackwell was the most meaningful thing I found here. It gave me hope. Hope not necessarily that I would get better - I do not know if I will ever simply 'get better' from depression - but hope in kindness's power to shine a light, to cast out the dark. To make the world better, even on the smallest scale.

I cannot guarantee that this is what we all found here - our senior years were nothing if not messy, complicated, and different. But I know that this light is precious, and that I will take it with me from this place. It will continue to guide me forward, and I hope that I can be a light for others through kindness and compassion. I want to help make a world where there is always a light there - that if you reach out, there will be happiness waiting for you. I won't be alone for trying. I know that, at least. And a few other things, as I did manage to do pretty OK in school by the end."

Victoria is sitting two seats down from me, and I think she's the only person who doesn't laugh at that. She's made-up, flawless, and sad. We never really became close, and right now, I regret that. I think it's easy to regret the things you did or could have done at the end of the year.

I wonder what Victoria regrets.

"This really has been the most rewarding year of my life, but I think the best one is still to come. Thank you."

Kate bows her head for a moment at the audience as the class and families erupt into applause, then walks away from the podium.

It's some time still until we all throw our hats in the air to conclude the ceremony, but no sooner has mine gone flying than I'm out of the row of chairs and running straight towards her.

"KATE!"

"MAX!"

She holds her arms open and just sinks the impact as I barrel into her, doing my best to crush her with a hug. Luckily for us both, my upper body strength is pretty pathetic.

"You're amazing!"

"No, you're amazing!" she yells right back even though we're 0 inches apart. "And thank you!"

"NO, THANK YOU! That was such a good speech and-"

She shakes her head. "No, come on, weren't you listening?" She drops her hands from around me and takes my hands. "Thank you. Seriously. I love you."

I beam, and squeeze her hands. "Am I your light?"

"Yeah," she answers without hesitation, and I blush.

"Oh, shit, um, I was teasing you, I thought you would say something witty and now I'm, uh-"

She's pleased, wiggling a little bit at my discomfort. "C'mon, say you love me back; I'm like, super anxious right now."

"I love you. You're the best." It feels so good to say that, but I'm doing my best to not fall in love with her at such an inopportune moment.

"Second best, but I think that's probably good enough," she says, pulling me back into a hug. "Stay in touch, okay? No getting so distracted with LA you forget about me."

"I could never, Kate Marsh."

It's some months later that I come home from class to find Chloe sitting on the couch at our new apartment, watching How It's Made with the volume about as low as it can go while still being audible.

"Hey Chloe," I greet her, dumping my backpack near the door.

She turns and waves, only mouthing a 'hello.' Curious, I walk over to find Rachel asleep on the couch with her head in Chloe's lap, curled up so she can fit.

"Oh, there's my beautiful girl," I croon, crouching down in front of them and stroking Rachel's hair. She stirs at the touch, but does not wake up.

"She fell asleep like an hour ago; I've been too scared to move her, like a cat," Chloe whispers.

"I understand."

A minute passes while I pet Rachel and Chloe idly strokes her arm with her thumb, and even though I'm exhausted from the day, I feel light.

"I'm so fucking happy." I sit cross-legged in front of the couch, no intentions of stopping what I'm doing anytime soon.

"Good day at class?"

I shake my head. "Mediocre day. But my life is . . . well. I kind of love it."

Chloe doesn't say anything, only closes her eyes and smiles. For a second, I think I see Rachel smiling, too, but she only nuzzles my hand before falling back asleep.

Art by @cahlart​

[loverontheleft]

Next Round’s On Me (pt. 2)

Back by popular demand. The flash fiction sequel is still a thing, but I’m not counting it as a full part since it’s pointless smut and doesn’t really contribute to the plot at all. AU!bartender B x reader. 5k words. My usual warnings. Part 3 eventually.

-||-

You must have fallen asleep again, because you stir drowsily at the scent of bacon and something faintly vanilla. Your eyes flutter open and you see him, shirtless in a pair of black sweatpants, holding two large plates of waffles and bacon and eggs. “Hello gorgeous,” you purr, propping yourself up on one arm, grinning when he laughs appreciatively.

“Not sure if that’s to me or the food,” Brendon teases as he climbs carefully back into bed and passes you a plate. “But I’ll take it either way.” You make a small happy sound as you take a bite of bacon and catch his eye. He’s smiling at you, eyes soft, and you give him a quizzical look as you munch on the crispy strip. “You’re just so cute. And pretty. And gorgeous. And sexy. And you’re here…in my bed.” He reaches out to stroke your arm, fingers dancing across your skin teasingly and you smile, swallowing the bacon.

“I could say the same to you,” you point out, grinning. “Except for the ‘in my bed’ part, that is.” He nods and blushes slightly. “Why are you blushing?” You ask him. He shrugs, taking his own bite of bacon. “You are all of those things,” you tell him, leaning your head on his shoulder and tracing over his tattoos, playing the keys idly and enjoying the way he shivers at your touch.

“I believe that you believe that,” Brendon says with a small smile. There’s a lingering, but comfortable silence as you both eat. As your head rests on his shoulder, your hair falls across his chest. He starts running his hand through your hair and you purr playfully, nuzzling your head into his palm. “Y/n,” he murmurs and you tilt your head up to meet his eyes. He looks slightly embarrassed and you give him an inquisitive look. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “I don’t - I don’t know how to say this but-“

You freeze, eyes downcast. You should have known this was coming. Your voice is soft with a slight tremble when you finally find it. “I’ll just - I can go- I mean, you don’t need to - you didn’t have to - fuck - you cooked me breakfast which is more than you had to do for me - it being a one night st- fuck, I’m so embarrassed - I’ll just -“ you’re scrambling out of his embrace and mentally going through your checklist of clothes, trying to remember what you shed where.

“Y/n, no-“ Brendon clambers to his feet, rushing after you. “That’s not- no!” He catches your arm and tugs gently, pulling you back against him. “No, that’s not what I meant - I just- it feels so stupid now, god-“ He flushes, looking at you with a sheepish, anxious expression.

“What?” You stare at him, eyes wide. “What?” You repeat breathlessly as he dips his head down to yours, lips brushing tentatively; he’s being so gentle with you, like you’re a skittish deer he doesn’t want to startle yet can’t help reaching out towards. You instinctively yield to the embrace, letting him pull you even closer so you’re flush against each other, one of his thighs pressed between yours. Your mouths move together and his hands creep higher, caressing your back and eventually your neck and the back of your head, until you’re moaning into his mouth as he tugs your hair lightly.

“Don’t go. That wasn’t what I - that’s definitely not - don’t go, please, just don’t go,” he murmurs against your lips. “I’ll tell you what I was going to say and then you can leave and call me an asshole and anything else you want - not necessarily in that order; you can cuss me out before you leave, I mean.” You blink up at him slowly and he sighs. “I feel like an idiot. I was going to offer to give you a haircut because your ends aren’t...well, they aren’t in great shape- and I thought - well, I figured - I mean. You could come see me at Aveda and I’d- ah, shit, Y/n...I’m an asshole; I’m so sorry - I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You keep a straight face and look at him seriously as you cross your arms over your bare chest, eyes narrowed. “You are an asshole,” you tell him, before letting your face break into a soft smile while kissing him again and flinging your arms around his neck. “I’m kidding. You’re sweet. I do need a haircut; you’re not wrong.” He visibly relaxes while still apologizing; telling you that even if he’s not wrong, there was still a better way to phrase it. You grin as you run a hand through his hair, watching his eyes slide shut in bliss for a moment. “You work at the bar today, right? When are you at the salon next?”

He pauses, opening his eyes to check a small day-planner on the bedside table you didn’t notice before. You file away the moment, impressed at his organization. He glances up at you. “I’m at the bar til 2 today, have the night off, and then Aveda tomorrow from 9 to 4, then the bar again from 5:30 to closing at midnight.” He meets your eyes. “What are you doing tonight?”

“I have a closing shift at the restaurant tonight.” You frown slightly and he sighs, stroking the back of your hand.

“I was serious last night,” he tells you. “About wanting to be that guy. Your guy. I like you, Y/n. I really do. I don’t know how to do this - how to date, I mean. I’ve always been so busy that I just -“ he falters. “I don’t know. I just know that I like you. And I think we have... something.” He looks at you hopefully, tentatively.

“You’re not wrong,” you tell him. “There’s definitely something. I like you.” You pause, grinning at him. “So what do we do?” He shrugs wordlessly, meeting your eyes. “We could- I mean-“ you pause again. “The point of casual dating is to see if you like someone, right?” He nods. “We like each other. We don’t need to date casually.”

“So- are you saying that we…?” Brendon trails off, playing with your hair again. “Just...go for it?” You give a small nod and smile at him. “Like...I’m your boyfriend? Don’t get me wrong, I definitely want to be - I just - I don’t want to misinterpret - I’d really like to be your boyfriend. So we’d just - just go all in?” He's looking at you, the nerves evident in his face and it makes you melt, reaching for him.

“I think we’ve already gone all in,” you tell him with a flirtatious smile and he laughs, blushing slightly and promising you that isn’t what he meant. “But yeah,” you continue. “You’re my boyfriend. Avoid all of the awkward casual dating and tiptoeing around commitment. Just go for it. Really make an effort. You’re my boyfriend. I’m your girlfriend.”

“I like how that sounds...my girlfriend,” Brendon murmurs as he guides you backward to the bed. It’s closer than either of you gauged and the edge catches him behind his knees and sends you both sprawling onto the bed with you draped across him. “A disclaimer,” he says with a grin. “Your boyfriend is a bit clumsy.”

“Your girlfriend thinks it’s cute,” you whisper, pressing soft kisses along his jaw and down his neck. His moan vibrates under your lips and your fingers, stroking his chest, move lower to tease and trace the soft, dark line of hair disappearing into the waistband of his sweatpants. At your delicate touch, Brendon’s hips buck slightly and you move your mouth back up to his ear while your fingers trace the swelling. “Can your girlfriend play with you or is it too soon?”

“Why- ah, fuck- why would it be too soon?” Brendon asks in a breathless voice. “We had amazing sex last night. At least, I thought it was amazing. But- yeah, oh fuck- Y/n - do whatever you want to me.”

“It was amazing,” you reassure him. “I just don’t want to make you late for work.” His eyes dart to the clock on the side table and he groans, wrapping a hand around your wrist lightly and guiding your hand into his sweatpants.

“We don’t have much time,” he says softly, eyes closing as your hand moves gently. “But -fuck fuck fuck- that feels so good- god, Y/n, hearing you call me your boyfriend - and your hand-“

“Take your sweatpants off, boyfriend, and give me some lube or something,” you request with a small smile. “We don’t have much time after all.” He nods and together, you wiggle his sweatpants down his thighs and his hand flails around in the drawer until he makes a soft, triumphant sound and produces a small bottle of lubricant. “That’s good,” you tell him as he pours it in your hand. “Now, let me take care of this.” You squeeze his erection gently and grin when he gasps. “Atta boy,” you murmur, stroking him swiftly and tightening your hand around the tip, letting your wrist curve gently as you work to spread the slick substance over his hard length. “You look so good like this,” you tell him. “Bucking into my hand, eyes shut, biting your lip...you’re gorgeous.” You sit back and let your hand pick up speed as you study him, the way his hips roll and buck, how his chest heaves with his erratic breathing, the dark, longing look he’s leveled on you, how his full lips part and moan your name, how the morning light filters through his blinds and falls across his bed, casting blurred shadows of your hand in motion over his arched back and frantic hips. “God, you look so good…” you repeat, inhaling sharply when you meet his eyes. His dark hair is messy and falling in his fully dilated eyes and there’s a sheen of sweat across his brow. Add to that the swelling of his lower lip and the flush across his cheeks and chest and you’re proud of yourself for not trying to touch yourself.

“Gonna come-“ he grunts, hips rocking urgently as his fingers tangle in the sheets. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me- oh shit Y/n, now now now,” he gasps, eyes opening wide as his orgasm pulses through him, spurting over your fist and dripping hot and shining over your fingers and down his throbbing length. “Oh god, that feels-“ he can’t even finish the thought as you keep stroking him through it.

“You’re so gorgeous,” you tell him earnestly, letting your hand slow as he beckons you closer with the curl of a finger. Eagerly, you stretch out beside him, whimpering happily when he hitches your leg over his hip. The slick heat of his cock brushes your inner thigh and you resist the urge to move against him, knowing you don’t have the time you both so desperately want. “We’ve gotta get up so you can get to work,” you say mournfully after a moment and he nods, eyes slightly unfocused as his hand caresses your thigh tenderly.

“Just wanna stay here in bed with you,” he groans, nuzzling your cheek. “Don’t wanna go to work. Just wanna stay here with you and thank you properly.” You nod and kiss him lightly, feeling your own desire burning. “But I also want to be able to pay my rent so I have some place to bring you after dates,” Brendon says with a bemused smile and you nod again, feeling the truth of his words. “So we’d better get up and take a quick shower. I’ll make it up to you later?”

-||-

The Uber drops you both off at the bar and he walks you to your car. “You said you’re closing, right?” He murmurs as he brushes a lock of hair over your ear affectionately. You nod and he drops a kiss on your lips. “What about tomorrow morning?”

“I’m off tomorrow,” you tell him and Brendon nods with a smile, rubbing his thumb over your hand. “So I’ll come by Aveda tomorrow?”

“Sounds perfect,” he tells you, and you kiss him enthusiastically, tangling your arms around his neck. “I really like you, Y/n,” he whispers in your ear when you part.

“I really like you,” you tell him with a radiant smile. “Have a good day. I’ll see you tomorrow?” He nods, but before you get in your car, he hands you his phone.

“Would it be too much to ask for my girlfriend’s number?” He says with a slight laugh. You blush and shake your head, texting yourself from his phone quickly. “Thank you for a hell of a first date,” he says with a grin, pocketing the device. “I’ll text you later?” You nod eagerly and slip into your car after one last kiss. You’re giddy the entire ride home; you keep catching glimpses of yourself smiling in the rearview mirror and it makes you laugh with delight every time. If only your friends knew what a favor they’d done by setting you up with such a flake.

-||-

You’re exhausted after closing and sitting at a high-top bar table, going through your tips and credit card receipts, using your phone calculator to figure out if you’ll be able to splurge on dinner on your ride home. It’s looking good and you’re already feeling a thrill of excitement when your phone lights up and his name appears at the top. You eagerly swipe down to read the message and smile, biting your lip. “Hello, gorgeous girl. It’s your boyfriend. Are you hungry?”

“Ravenous,” you type back quickly, smiling as the three dots appear under your message. You set your phone down and return to counting your tips, grinning when you reach a three-digit number. You knew it had been a good night, but still- this was unexpected. You phone lights up again and you reach for it, still mentally counting. The number is climbing higher and higher and coupled with the text you just got from him, you’re on cloud nine. You might even get fries with whatever drive-thru burger you’re grabbing - really treat yourself.

“Good. See you soon,” his message reads and you give your phone a quizzical, but pleased, look. Shrugging, you finish running the numbers and head into your manager’s office to cash out. When she asks how you did tonight, you beam.

“A three digit number and the first number is a two,” you tell her, doing a small happy dance. She grins and gives you a high five and you lean against the door while your coworker cashes out. Together, the three of you exit through the front door and you stop short when you see him. “You’re here,” you say softly, smiling and crossing the parking lot to him.

He’s perched on the hood of his car, a brown paper bag sitting next to him. “I’m here,” he says with a grin, hopping down and crossing to you. You say goodnight to your coworker and manager and step closer, letting him wrap you in his arms. “I hope that’s okay - not creepy or anything. You said you were hungry, and I figured I could do something about that.” You arch an eyebrow and he grins, leading you back to his car. “Do you want to ride with me or follow me in your car? If you ride with me, I’ll drop you off here tomorrow morning so you can drive to Aveda and you’re not stuck with me at the salon all day,” he says, rubbing the back of your hand. “Not that I expect you to spend the - I mean you can! I just- you don’t have to- I can bring you back here af- god, I’m being so presumpt-“ but he falls silent when you kiss him softly.

“Wanna ride with you,” you tell him, playing with his hair. “And wanna spend the night. My car will be fine here.” He nods and opens the passenger door for you. You slide into the car and breathe deeply with an appreciative smile. “Burgers?”

“Burgers,” Brendon confirms, putting the car in drive and pulling out of the parking lot. “Nothing as fancy as what you’ve been serving all night, but…” he shrugs. “Burgers nonetheless.” He rests his hand palm up on his thigh and you tangle your fingers together, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder. “Sleepy?” He smiles down at you and you nod. “I won’t keep you out too late,” he promises.

“It’s all good,” you say through a yawn, laughing at yourself. “Like being with you.” He grins and you fall into an easy silence. After a moment, you squeeze his hand. “Where are we going?”

“Well, I figured atmosphere is everything, so we’re taking our food to go,” Brendon tells you. “We’re almost there.” You nod and sit back in your seat, waiting patiently. Finally, he pulls off the road into what looks like an open field and parks. You give him a look and he laughs, squeezing your hand. “I promise I haven’t brought you out here to kill you,” he says goodnaturedly. “This area just has the best view.” He opens his door and crosses to yours, opening it for you. You let him guide you from your seat to the front of the car. Carefully, the two of you scramble onto the hood and he passes you a burger.

“This is amazing,” you tell him sincerely, torn between looking at him and the starry night sky. “Seriously, thank you.”

“Of course,” Brendon replies, looking pleased. “So what are we doing with this,” and he tugs affectionately at your hair, “tomorrow?” You tilt your head, considering as you finish chewing.

“Well,” you manage, wiping your mouth delicately with a napkin he’s passed you as well. “I know I need it trimmed. I’ve been debating highlights- or not?” You say with a laugh at his expression.

“If you really want to add color, I’d do lowlights if it were me,” Brendon tells you, examining a lock of your hair. “You have such a nice tone already. I’d hate to mess with that by adding a lightening agent to it. Really, Y/n, you have lovely hair.”

“Thanks,” you say, feeling the blush creep up your cheekbones.

“And you’re so pretty when you blush,” he murmurs, dropping your hair and cupping the side of your face, bringing you close. “I’m not moving too fast or being creepy, am I?” He looks nervous suddenly and you shake your head vigorously. “Okay. I feel - I don’t want you to think I don’t respect you or your boundaries or-“

“You’re cute,” you whisper, kissing him softly. He relaxes against you and the two of you recline back against his windshield, becoming more and more engrossed in the embrace. His hands are cautiously wandering over your curves and you’re moving against him so one of his thighs is between yours. “We’re playing this by ear,” you tell him when you break apart, breathing hard. “There’s no ‘normal’ or ‘protocol’ or anything. I like you. You like me. We had an excellent first date, and now we’re having a fantastic second date. We can do whatever we want,” you reassure him with a smile.

“You’re going to be the level-headed one in this relationship,” Brendon tells you with a grin. “I can tell. I’m forever worried about being misinterpreted or going too far or making a stupid mistake and I’m so wrapped up in my own head- I’m just going to apologize in advance for any stress I’ll cause you,” he finishes, resting his forehead against yours. “And thank you for grounding me.”

“I like that about you,” you say softly. “I remember thinking that that was something I really liked about you last night. You’re real. You��ve got insecurities and anxieties and you don’t try to put up a front. You’re genuine and vulnerable and you communicate and you’re kind and open and honest.” He blushes now and you stroke his jawline. “And you’re handsome as hell and great in bed,” you giggle.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Brendon returns with a playful smirk, visibly relaxing. “I really like you. You’re open and caring and funny and comforting. You’re easy to talk to and the more we talked, the more I wanted to know about you. And of course, you’re absolutely gorgeous and great in bed,” he ends with a wink.

“Stealing my lines,” you tease, tangling a hand in his hair and pulling his mouth back down to yours. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you murmur against his lips, moaning low in the back of your throat when his tongue flicks out to caress yours. Together, you arch and rub and gasp, giggling when you both slide down the hood of the car slightly.

“Should we move this inside?” Brendon suggests, his hands tucked into the back pockets of your work pants. “It’s getting sort of chilly out here…” At this suggestion, you nod, accepting his help in sliding off of his car. “I have one more food-related surprise,” he tells you, and you give him a curious look. “But it’s back at my place.”

“Luring me to your apartment with candy?” You tease and he laughs, shaking his head.

“But close,” he says with a wink as he mimes zipping his lips closed, turning a lock, and swallowing the key.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” you protest with a giggle. “How are you going to swallow the key if you’ve already zipped and locked your lips?” He mimes unzipping his lips to tell you it’s magic and you laugh outright, wrapping your arms around him. “You locked it though! How are you gonna-“

“You’re thinking too much,” he tells you with a broad smile before kissing you hungrily. You nod and agree breathlessly when you pull apart after a moment, dazed. “Now let me take you back to my place,” he says in a soft voice, stroking the small of your back. “Nothing sexual-“ at your playful pout, he grins, giving your ass a quick pat. “Unless that’s what you want. But I don’t have anything sexual planned.”

“Sounds like I might be able to change your mind though,” you say to him with a wink. He laughs and nods, opening the door for you and you slide in with a grateful smile.

-||-

“Told you you were close,” Brendon announces as you settle on his couch and he comes into view holding a plate of chocolate chip cookies and two frosty glasses of milk. “Figured we could watch a movie and eat cookies and cu-“ he blushes suddenly and avoids your eyes. “I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I? You thought we’d have sex or something and I’m here offering cook-”

“No,” you say eagerly, rolling onto your knees and beckoning for him. “No, that sounds really nice. Honestly. I didn’t know how much I wanted it until you said it. Come here. Please?” You give him your biggest puppy-dog eyes, and he caves and sits down next to you. “Can I have a cookie?” You smile up at him and he nods, offering you the plate. “Oh my god it’s still warm too,” you moan after taking a bite. “These are really good.”

“You’re too kind,” Brendon says with a grin, and you shake your head, finishing the cookie and reaching for another. “Really, Y/n, you don’t have to-“

“I’m not doing anything I don’t want to,” you reassure him, settling onto your back and reclining so your head is in his lap. “Is this okay?” You ask cautiously, glancing up at him.

“Yeah, s’nice,” he murmurs, stroking your hair idly. “You know what I like about you?” He continues at your inquisitive look. “I like how comfortable you are with yourself. How comfortable you make me. How natural you make this all feel.” You beam and finish your cookie before snuggling down into his lap and wrapping both hands around his thigh.

“You’re pretty great too though,” you point out. “I couldn’t be this relaxed or comfortable if you weren’t so easy to be around. Give yourself some credit, Brendon.” You twist to look back at him. “I like that you’re vulnerable and honest. I like you.”

“I like you too,” he says softly, raking his fingers through your hair. “I’ll try to be more confident outside of the bar and the salon,” he promises. “Those are just my comfortable spaces, where I feel like I’m in control.”

“And bed,” you say with a grin. “You’re pretty confident in bed too, whether you see it or not. Which you have every right to be, don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean that you’re like- dominating in bed in control, I just mean - you know what you’re doing. You’re damn good - best I’ve ever had, and -“ you blush. “Now I’m babbling.”

“No, please continue,” Brendon says with a slight laugh. “I never hear this stuff.” With wide eyes, you scramble to your knees and face him. “Honestly,” he insists. “The last time I had sex with someone...well. It was a while ago and she was really quiet. I had no idea if she was enjoying herself. So you’re - I mean, hearing you, it’s great.”

“Brendon,” you say seriously, placing both hands on his shoulders as you straddle him to look him in the eyes. “You’re incredible. No one has ever made me come like you, and you’re by far the sexiest, sweetest, best guy I’ve ever fucked. I loved having sex with you.”

“Yeah?” He grins now, playing with your hair. “Now I’m just fishing for compliments,” he tells you. “You liked it?”

“It was so good,” you reassure him, leaning in. “And if you need me to convince you...I’m sure something can be arranged.” He raises an eyebrow and cups the back of your neck, bringing you close for a kiss. “Do I need to convince you?” Your voice is soft now and you’re staring at each other with heavy eyes.

“I think I need to be convinced,” Brendon murmurs, leaning in to kiss you again. “Reassure me, Y/n. Make me believe I’m the best you’ve ever had.” You whimper and roll in his lap, inhaling sharply when you feel his erection throb against you. “Convince me.”

“And when I convince you,” you whisper, tugging gently on his hair, gasping when one of his hands flies to your wrist. “Oh…” you feel the lust course through your body at his touch. “Fuck...what do I get when I convince you?”

“That depends,” he returns in a low voice. “What do you want?” His eyes look deep into yours and you whimper again, biting your lip and rocking in his lap.

“I want…” but you hesitate, trying to catch your breath. “I want you to be in control. I want you to know you’re the best I’ve ever had and I want you to believe it.” You look at him sincerely. “Want you to believe it like I believe it. Want you to be confident and boss me around like you know I’ll do whatever you say because you know you’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“I- fuck, Y/n, I’ll try…” Brendon murmurs, kissing you deeply. “I’ve never - I’ve never been the really dominant type but - I’ll try, if that’s what you want-“

“No,” you cut him off quickly, pressing a finger to his lips. “You don’t have to be - if you don’t want-“ It’s his turn to cut you off, and he does so by sucking your finger into his mouth with a wink. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut at the feeling.

After a moment, he frees your finger from his lips and takes a soft breath. “It’s what you want. And it could be fun. I don’t have to be mean, do I?” He gives you a sheepish grin and you shake your head, giggling. “Good. Don’t think I could be mean.”

“You don’t have to be mean- actually, please don’t be mean,” you say with a laugh. “Just...be in control. Like when you made me wait to come - that was so hot,” you tell him, moving again, and he nods thoughtfully. “Being in control doesn’t mean being an asshole. It just means taking charge of the situation and taking care to make sure both of us come - on your terms.” You can’t help but smile when he breaks out into a grin. “I think you’ll be great.”

“You’ve already said I am,” he points out smoothly, hooking an arm around your waist and standing in one fluid motion. You yelp and cling to him, making him smile and squeeze you tightly. “Let’s go to bed.” You shiver in pleasure and fling your arms around his neck, kissing him fiercely. “Good girl,” he says playfully when you moan against his mouth.

“Fuck, I love that,” you tell him, wrapping your legs around him even tighter. “Love being praised.” He nods and says that he remembers and you blush, remembering your morning together and how explicit you were. “I’m sorry about this morning - I got carried away and I was so- it was so...dirty and -“ But he cuts you off, smacking your ass lightly and making you bite your lip in delight.

“Don’t apologize. It was so hot. Loved it, really,” he reassures you, hesitating as he reaches the edge of his bed. “Can I-“ he meets your eyes and shifts his glance to the bed behind you. You nod and he sets you down gently, eyes wide as you crawl backwards up the bed. “You’re really pretty,” he tells you, and you grin, beckoning him to join you.

“You’re pretty too,” you say with a smile, sighing in satisfaction when he settles onto the bed beside you, stretching out so that you can tangle yourself around him and press against him fully. “I promise I don’t mean that in a wei-“

“Didn’t take it in a weird way,” he reassures you with you soft kiss. “Now come here and let me practice being dominant.” He grins and rolls over you, pinning both hands above your head. The position makes your back arch slightly and press your chest into his; he looks at you through heavily-lidded eyes. “I like this already.”

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 21 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: Moved several things to Part 22 to make this chapter more concise (table fucking included, but you get fucking in the beginning, so don’t complain!). The album they’re listening to after Thai food is obviously Jefferson Airplane’s absolutely iconic SURREALISTIC PILLOW; the songs are two of my favorites, which indeed play adjacent to each other on the record: TODAY (one of the most beautiful love songs of all time) and COMIN’ BACK TO ME. Please note how careful Duncan is about waking Kenzie up before they fuck; autonomy, people, consent is hot! Their Exalted Selves (which is what I’m gonna refer to their angelic divine other selves as now) are based very vaguely on the Princess Serenity and Prince Endymion versions of Usagi and Mamoru in Sailor Moon, which I’ve loved since I was a child, but they’re far more ethereal and obtuse--it would be impossible for a human artist to draw Kenzie and Duncan’s Exalted Selves, for instance, as their beauty is too incredible and intense for human eyes. Kenzie’s makeup look for the photoshoot is based on Billie’s look here. A reminder that this is her red dress. The Cartier LOVE bracelets Duncan orders are here (for him) and here (for her, with diamonds). Duncan’s Givenchy star shirt. Duncan’s watch. This is his silver Cartier he’s wearing in Part 1. Here’s ANNIE’S SONG (another absolutely iconic love song I’ve loved forever). I found multiple meanings for the name Mackenzie, but in Gaelic it apparently means “comely”, which I used the synonym “lovely” in place of. The Rose Garden at the Botanical Gardens is real, but there’s no gate akin to the one I created, and I added a lot more roses than I think there usually are (there is a fountain)--MY STORY, MY STUFF. Annette’s dress. I’m seeing Fleetwood Mac tomorrow (it’s been two years since the last time I saw Stevie and I’ve missed her more than I can describe), I work on Saturday mornings, and it’s one of my best friends’ birthday party on Saturday evening, so Part 22 is going to take a bit; it’s also going to be the chapter where my!Duncan finds out from Claire Underwood that he was adopted, though the way I navigate that scene is going to be slightly different than the way Beau Willimon’s Season 6 did it; a reminder that my fic is a House of Cards AU in addition to being a Millory AU, and I’m throwing out canon HoC stuff that doesn’t fit into my narrative (such as @montenegro-style noticing I threw out Duncan’s super-Modernist apartment from the show and replaced it with a Romantic one), so don’t expect things to unfold the same way--I said this before too, but Duncan’s definitely not going to jail in my story, so forget about that. I may be borrowing characters and some vague plot elements from Ryan and Beau, but this story is mine. Love to the Millorys, as ever, and especially my Duckenzies.

Duncan stared up at the ceiling far above them, his fingers in Kenzie’s hair, his own hair tossed against the black pillow as music pumped quietly from the hidden stereo in the bedroom wall. To be living for you, is all that I want to do, to be loving you, it’ll all be there when my dreams come true...Kenzie was tucked under his arm, her head against his shoulder, the softness of her breasts and stomach pressing into his side, her body naked now--they’d ordered a mountain of Thai food, and she’d kept the tulle lingerie on while they ate, a linen spread on the floor in front of the picture window in the penthouse living room as the night fell, Dike, Nike and Athena gazing down on them on either side, Kenzie facing the Bouguereau prints, her little legs stretched out in the silky sheer stockings, bowl in her lap. The picture of her eating so hungrily in the delicate attire would forever be seared on his brain from this day on--my Kenzie, her essence, her goodness, her sweetness, her staggering beauty, not just her body, but her soul. Her wide-eyed gaze skirted up now and then to admire the prints (Duncan noticed she looked at Evening Mood the most), then fell back into his to give him coy looks, languidly licking curry from her spoon.

“I think they all look like you,” he’d murmured to her, the sincerity in his heart making him dizzy. “I can only see your face in them now, you in the evening, you at night, you waking up in the morning…” He reached for a spring roll but forgot about it halfway to his mouth as Kenzie had come up on her knees, her breasts pressing together in the elegant criss-crossing design of the black bra, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder in the fading light, her (sweet budding leaves and chocolate and the saffron light of autumn mornings) eyes laying him bare. Her beauty in this moment struck him dumb--Kenzie set her bowl down and crawled over to him on the linen, languid, knowing. Duncan had put on a pair of black gym shorts and a fitted black tee shirt to retrieve their takeout from downstairs a few minutes before, and as she reached him Kenzie tugged the hem of the shirt up, little hand soothing over his bare skin underneath.

“Call me your moonlight again,” she whispered against him, her eyes trembling open and closed, her little pink lips shining with the residue of spice and saliva. Her hair brushed against his neck and cheek, the sweet smell of rose and vetiver and jasmine, and Duncan had set the spring roll down uneaten, brushing his hand against the napkin in front of him, then bringing it up to press the cascade of her hair into his nose. She is my favorite smell. I’m at peace inside the scent of her.

“Moonlight. My moon princess. My moonbeam.” He kissed her hair--let his lips slip down its waves, intoxicated. “You know the full moon is on the night of the Gala, baby? A full moon just for you. It’ll shine down on you and everyone will be struck with longing for you. But you’re my baby, aren’t you? You’re my moonlight. They’ll pine for you because you’re mine.” He blushed at his need, his desire to have her all to himself--but as he said it, Duncan knew it was true. We belong to each other.

“Yes, Dunny, I’m your moonlight, I’m yours, my love. I belong to you.” Kenzie climbed into his lap, sliding against him in the achingly soft tulle, her ass settling down on his calves crossed together, and she was so small and felt so delicate and she smelled so lovely, he could feel himself growing hard again--her little arms came around his neck and he lifted her up into his mouth to kiss her, his mind awash in a cloud of gold. He was struck with a vision of her as Artemis, naked and white in the reflection of the moon, bathing in a midnight pool, her bow and arrow made of the gossamer strands of stars sitting on the bank of the water, singing moon hymns in her sweet voice to the owls and the deer and the foxes flitting through the undergrowth. Too beautiful for any ordinary man’s eyes. How am I so blessed. Their kisses extended for a long while--Kenzie went to lift away but Duncan needily brought her back against him and she let him, she fell into him again, she arched into him and he could feel the way she was giving herself to him, coaxing him back into arousal to do what she asked him for later tonight--his nerves were alight at the prospect of bringing her body out of achingly lovely sleep with insistence, enticing her under his continuous touch to give herself over to him in the dark with only the moon to see their desirous tangle.

Now they lay in bed (our bed, the bed of our adoration, our love, my favorite place now that she lays beside me in it), sleepy and full and naked and ready for bed, the duvet pushed down to their feet, speech seeming a very dull and faraway impulse. I can hear you this way, can feel you better this way, he thought into her, and she nodded against his skin, her cheek against his nipple as the music drifted around them. Please, please, listen to me, it’s taken so long to come true, it’s all for you, all for you...Duncan gazed down at her--her eyes had fallen closed and she had begun to breathe slow against him, her leg crooked over his thigh, her little mouth open just a touch. He could see there were still lingering red marks at her neck from his ardency, a tattoo that told the story of their nights. He thought of how she’d looked that morning, still stuck inside her sleep, stuck in her nightmare--her face had been creased with fear, and it had clenched an icy hand around his heart, rattling a panic into his lungs--he’d run to the bed and gripped her and shook her, his desperation strange and immediate. Wake her up, his mind had urged. Don’t let her see it, don’t let her suffer it. What it was still didn’t seem clear, but Duncan remembered what she’d said upon waking, that in her dream there had been a man with his face, a man who was like a black hole in the void.

It was like he had eaten you.

Duncan shivered against her and slid his arm out from underneath her head--Kenzie stirred, her head turning, her body shifting with aching loveliness--Duncan’s heart and the heat in the pit of him clenched as he watched the incline of her ribs shift, the refracted light on her breasts, heard the a tiny sigh fall from her mouth--but her eyes remained closed. He carefully moved from the bed and pulled the switch on the nightstand, his eyes still lingering on her (exalted), and the room plunged into blue-and-white darkness, Jefferson Airplane still quietly drifting into the room: you came to stay and live my way, scatter my love like leaves in the wind, you always say you won't go away, but I know what it always has been, it always has been...Duncan moved through the living room, stepping to the reading lamps to switch them off, bathing himself in darkness, his eyes falling over the expanse of the city through the picture window that encompassed the entire west end of the room. The night was very clear and the sun was gone--the only indication it had been there was a line of mauve and dahlia color lingering at the horizon before the sky bled into darkness pinpricked with stars, hazy in the reflection of the city.

Strolling the hills overlooking the shore, I realized I've been there before...the shadow in the mist could have been anyone...I saw you…

What do the dreams mean? At first Duncan had been sure they’d been brought on by the mad mix of emotion inside both of them lately--just dopamine, seratonin, oxytocin and endorphins, just our brains in a mad rush of ecstatic happiness, and the residue is our minds going haywire at night. He moved on to his study, the carefully controlled temperature of the penthouse cool on his bare skin, an oasis in the hot June night. This one seems to have been the clearest for her, and the most frightening. Is it fear that I’ll betray her that would make her dream of an evil version of me? His heart ached at that. I never will, baby. I never fucking will. I’d die first.

I saw you, I saw you, comin' back to me

Duncan glanced at the huge expanse of The Youth of Bacchus as he moved towards his turntable, the song’s final longing guitar and melancholy hum bleeding out into silence. The woman in the center, her arms thrown back ecstatically, her head tilted towards the consort at her feet, collapsed in revelry--Duncan had studied her many long nights, studied her abandon and her achingly white, almost translucent beauty, but now, like the prints in the room beside this one, he could see only Kenzie in her form--Kenzie dancing in the living room, singing in drunken joy (I’ll never live to match the beauty again), Kenzie running away from him into the ocean waves, Kenzie’s glittering eyes on him as he tied her to the chain. The whole of the world turned around her; she was the sun, and also the moon, and also every other star, and everything that encompassed the universe was because of and according to her--for me, that’s the end of it.

Duncan pressed the button at the side of the record player and the needle lifted away, settling back into its resting place. He turned to look at the painting again--the painting Annette had gotten him as a moving gift, and over time the painting that had begun to feel as though it were an irrevocable part of him, an extension of him, a friend to him as he stared at it long on lonely nights. He thought of the mesmerized way Kenzie stared at it, as she had since that first night when he pressed his mouth to her clit as she hovered on the edge of his desk, her head thrown back; as if she sees me in it, when now I see her in it. It’s almost too much to look at it for too long now; because it reminds me of the one I love most in all the world and she is blinding in her loveliness. It was always beautiful. But now it’s exalted to me because she loves it, and anything she loves is beloved to me.

He thought again of Ariadne, the painting he knew would be for her now, too; the auction was in a few weeks’ time, just before the beginning of July when their birthdays would be coming, and he smiled, his hand coming up to his jaw, his thumb pressing against his bottom lip, though he didn’t realize it, eager to have it hanging on the wall beside their bed, eager to see her face when she saw it and knew it was for her. When she died Dionysus took a crown he had given her and placed it among the stars. The idea of her dying someday was one he couldn’t begin to fathom; the despair of it was beyond words in its agony. But Duncan felt a drifting calm fall over him after the stab of pain--we found each other in this life, didn’t we. We finally found each other. I think we would find each other again. I think we’ll always find each other. I really fucking do. I think that’s what the Fates wrote for us. That we’re meant to be together--really, truly fated to be together. Like two stars in a constellation that endures until time no longer has any meaning. And there can’t be one of us without the other--not for long.

Duncan switched off the Tiffany lamp--now the penthouse was truly in darkness but for the light that came from the night outside. O Fates, I wish you could tell me what the dreams mean. They don’t feel like they’re just dreams. I know I said that to Kenzie--but I said it because I wanted to believe it myself. Lately, everything seems to mean something. Everything seems to have a hidden clockwork of purpose behind it. When we met I think we kicked something into motion, something ground out of a long sleep into a great predetermination. Now everything is vibrating with destiny--our destiny. Our love. Whatever she and I are meant to do with our lives, we are meant to do it together. Whatever I’m meant to do, I can’t do it without her. And I wouldn’t want to. I ache for her every moment--she has pierced the deepest part of my soul.

He carefully moved back to the bedroom in the dark--his eyes glanced up at Pallas Athena as he passed her, and he couldn’t help but send a prayer out to her (gray-eyed maiden, in whose wise gaze all truths are laid bare--give us wisdom, my sweet lover and I, to give to those who need it most, to move the pathways toward the greatest good--I’ve wasted time, Athena, I know it, but I swear I won’t again, I swear I’ll cherish every moment with her); he’d had the goddess statues for over five years now (they’d come from Stapleton’s, Frederick had found them for Duncan carefully when he’d asked for Greek goddess motifs), but never had he so often had the impulse to pray to them--I never prayed to anyone before, he remembered, and now I’d pray to anyone if it meant she would always be safe and happy. He thought of the Fates again (Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos), spinning the threads of their two destinies together many ages ago--most deep and unfathomable love, a love for all of time, he thought, and did not question where the certainty had come from, only felt acutely that it was not misplaced.

Duncan saw that moonlight now fell on the bed as he re-entered--the moon was waxing strongly now, and his breath felt caught in his throat as he looked at Kenzie in the throes of sleep, turned towards the door, the duvet still pushed down around her feet, so her body was bare to him. The silvery wave of the low light fell over her cheek and the tawny-gold of her hair, making it seem almost white, giving it a sheen that seemed otherworldly. But she is, he thought, emotion clouding into his mind, stunning him with her again (and again and again) as he watched her sleeping form, her silvery nakedness, the dip of her waist and one arm crooked around her hip, hand dipping down in front of her sex, the other pressed against her mouth, sweetly--she was more profound to him than anything, more breathtaking than any art of any age. It’s like she is from another world--it’s like she was snatched from heaven and fell down into my arms, into my bed, fell down onto that balcony where I beheld her, trapped here on earth, for the first time. I felt that I knew she was more than what she might have seemed to an untrained eye. And I still feel that I know it. She has an effect on other people that they don’t seem to really recognize or understand. But I see it. And I think I understand. My Kenzie isn’t just lovely and kind; she has real power to heal, to alter the pain others feel and alleviate their suffering. Kenzie has a healing touch, one that can knit together and remedy a distressed soul. It’s almost like she really could bring something back from the dead. It’s like she could sew back together, using only her hands, her energy, something that had been ripped apart, reverse fucking time--it’s like she somehow willed me onto that balcony, so I could find her, so I could touch her and in that touch know her immediately as I always have, and know she was the half of me that had been lost, but no longer. Because she had willed us back together. She had willed us to find each other again, and so we did--she attached a golden string to me long ago when time began, whispered to me that it would help me find her if we got lost, if we got separated from each other--and I finally saw it glimmering between us, and followed it to where she was. Saint Mackenzie, goddess of lost things, goddess of binding, of rebirth, of transcendent healing, of perfect love. My moonlight, my sunlight, my starry sky, beloved.

He could feel himself growing hard again, thinking of her sliding onto his lap in the tulle lingerie, the demanding croon of her voice (call me your moonlight again, I want you to wake me up with kisses and fuck me in the dark with your lips pressed into my shadows, I want you to kiss my shadows, and touch them with aching hands), and Duncan knew it was the right time--that it was time to press his mouth into the soft space of her in the darkness. His eyes had begun to adjust to the dark now and he eased down onto the bed, its cool sheets shivering up his thighs, urging him toward her--Duncan reached down to where her arm crooked over her hip and slid his fingers up her torso to the sweet roundness of her breasts, achingly slow, willing himself into tenuous control, overwhelmed with the relief of touching her without any constraints, without his hands tied or the lingerie covering her or anything in the way of her, Kenzie, my solace, the home of my heart. He eased his body down next to hers, his hands still cosseting around her, fingers drifting back and forth on her nipples, and he felt a surge of blood into his cock as he felt them grow hard under his touch, though she didn’t stir yet (wake me up with kisses) and Duncan leaned his face to her across the pillow and pressed a soft, aching kiss into her forehead, her temple, each eyelid, shivering in sleep, the dip of each cheek, over her nose and the incline of her jaw, and then he pressed down, sliding against the coolness of the sheet again, to bury his face against her neck, his kisses becoming more insistent, more exacting of her--wake up my love, Duncan pressed into her mind, feeling her head lift as she stirred, slowly beginning to register him, wake up baby, and he felt strange for a moment, caught up in her unconscious mind, as if he was brushing up against another self, another Kenzie--then the feeling cleared, and he could feel her golden waves of energy. And he said again, into her: wake up my love, wake up baby love, wake up so I can fuck you, wake up so I can press my kisses into your shadows, wake up so we can be together.

Then--Duncan was stunned with the feeling that surged into him in that moment. It was almost painful, the brilliancy and power of her energy as he lingered inside her in that in-between place that wasn’t waking and wasn’t sleep for her, and he felt minute inside it, wildly small to behold her this way; fucking goddess. Oh fuck, Kenzie. You really are a goddess. You have all of this inside you and I am staggered by you. I can’t begin to fathom this. Is this where you go when you sleep? Back to the secret expanse of everything you keep hidden, this place of resplendent power that has colors I’ve never seen, colors I could never describe? Is this where you came from? And even more unbelievably, he heard her voice inside that in-between place, calling out to him, and her voice was full of so much joy it immediately made him want to sob against her, and she said yes baby, Duncan, exalted, beloved, this is where I came from, and where you came from, and you come here too in your dreams, but you never remember, but you will. Soon, you’ll start to remember. What we were before, what we are, and what we will be again. Soon we’ll both start to remember, for our destinies were written when the stars were just dreams themselves, and our destinies will live on when they’ve burned out.

Duncan’s mind felt like it was on fire with the feeling of her, the words she spoke that made no sense to him, and yet made every sense, a deeper sense, their hidden meaning touching against the shadowed hidden heart of him, and he lifted his mouth up to the space under her ear, one hand cradling up under the back of her head to pull her more firmly against him and the other sliding down the intoxicating softness of her rib cage and her belly to hover at her abdomen, hover above the mouth of her sex, waiting for her eyes to open to him, to give him the yes he longed for, and he felt the intensity of the in-between place begin to fade--felt reality seep back in, like milk stirred into dark coffee, and Kenzie was stirring more strongly against him, leaning into his mouth tasting at her skin, and a moan escaped from her that stirred the building heat in his groin and he spoke into her skin, his own words bleeding into a moan, a reply of need for her--”wake up baby, wake up all the way for me, wake up and tell me to touch you, tell me to fuck you, Kenzie, uhh--” and despite the darkness, he felt her eyes open, their golden depth unnerving him for a moment (how can they be glowing like that, like a ripe harvest moon), focusing on him as though he were the one pinprick of light in a long darkness, and then they seemed to fade back, fade to the forest-and-burnt-acorn he recognized--he had leaned back to look at her, his lips lifting away from her skin, and he gasped as her little hand came down, exacting, and slid from the dusting of hair at the top of his groin, closing around the length of his stiffening cock and dragging her achingly soft grip to the head of him.

“I’m here, baby,” she whispered, and he felt his need kindle up like someone had thrown gas onto a bonfire, felt his cock jump inside her grip, and then she said “touch me,” and he slid his fingers, middle first, down between the lips of her cunt and pressed, harshly, into her clit, so warm and so wet and sending a spasm of want through his body--Kenzie lifted up, almost involuntarily, and her moan was longer now, focusing on him, inside the sensation of his touch, beseeching him for more. “Yes, baby, fuck yes,” Kenzie moaned, “more, more,” and Duncan pressed the lips of her sex outward with his other fingers, his long middle finger still working down into her clit, strictly, then finally, he kissed her, open-mouthed, and her sweet little tongue laved out against his, her slender hand still gripping his cock with a strength that addled his senses. In the shadows, with only the moon to light their bed, Duncan felt he could feel the way she was sending little pinpricks her power, that terrible gold energy, too beautiful to behold in this world, into his body through her grip, as if she were sending it into his spirit, giving him strength, kindling his desire to a high place he had never imagined, residue from that in-between place, residue from another world where such things were commonplace, so much power was the natural order.

But Duncan knew what she wanted then, and he broke their aching kisses apart, moving his hand up from his attentions at her sex, pushing her little body down forcefully so she was on her back, pressing her legs wide apart and coming up between them on his knees, and Kenzie lifted her hips so she was poised against the head of his cock, her hair falling down in the moonlight, her hands coming up to his arms and then sliding down to his wrists to clutch him against her. Duncan gripped her carefully at the small of her back, his thumbs pressing across her hip bones (god I want to kiss them)--then he thrust into her with an ecstatic groan, marveling at how wet she was, how perfect it felt to be inside her in the dark this way. Kenzie shuddered into him, a little cry falling from her lips, and in the dark he could see her mouth lingering open, her eyes rolling back for him, “that’s it, baby,” he couldn’t stop himself, needed to speak his desire aloud to her, in the dark, where no one else belonged but the two of them in this moment, “give yourself to me, everything, the shadows too, I’ll kiss them, I love you--” and he felt her nails dig into the skin of his arms as he pounded into her, wondering at the intensity of his hardness, the lightness of her body against him--god baby, I don’t want to crush you and she said “fuck, keep going, do not fucking stop, god you feel so fucking good, fucking fuck me Duncan--”

Her little hand reached up to him, lifting from his arm and he leaned down to her, pressed down into her, easing her back down onto the bed and fucking her achingly close now, their stomachs pressing against each other, her hand coming under his jaw to pull his mouth into her, tasting him breathlessly as he drove his length into her again and again, and her scent was rose and vetiver and her sweet, heady sex, and her yielding mouth was almost too wonderful, too much to bear, and his hands came around to cup her breast and against her neck to press there softly and she wrapped her little feet around his back and her fingers twined into his hair at the nape and Kenzie whispered “my sweet baby, my beautiful Prince, fuck me--” between their kisses and Duncan felt faint with her realness again, faint with the feeling of her cunt clenching around him, faint in her arms, her loveliness, her silken skin, the slight, achingly sublime sounds she was making overwhelming his senses.

His hand came down between her legs again and his fingers pressed ardent circles against her and he said “baby, do you want me to suck on you, do you want me to kiss your clit--” and Kenzie shook her head against his lips and said “no, baby, no, don’t stop fucking me, just touch me like that, touch me in the dark, I love you, Duncan, I love you with every part of me--” and he was nodding against her--”I love you too baby, Kenzie, I love you, oh god I love you, I can’t describe--”, his memory drifting against the power he’d felt from her as she floated out of sleep, absolutely in awe of her again, absolutely at her mercy, inside her grace, and she shushed him as his fingers flicked back down to the wetness that coated her cunt and his cock as he thrust his whole length into her, then out, then back again, and redoubled his effort with his fingers at her clit as their mouths came together again and she began to shake in his arms, a shaking that began at her shoulders and cascaded down her body into where his cock was buried inside her and she moaned into his mouth, a moan that became a prolonged wail into him, her words muddling into incomprehensible murmurs that Duncan could almost see, like colors, floating around them--”Dunny, oh, fuck--oh fucking fuck baby oh ohhhhh beloved baby my sweet fucking babyfuck love you I love you--” and Duncan breathed in carefully, deeply, keeping the rhythm of his movement into her steady and concentrated as she came, her little hands clutching his head down to her, twisting into his hair and pulling it harshly as she cried out, and he thought oh Kenzie, you’re bathed in moonlight, you look like an angel, you’re too beautiful for words--

Suddenly, inexplicably, inside her release, Duncan’s mind was jerked back into wherever it had been before Kenzie woke up--into where he’d hovered inside her psyche, in that in-between place, and he remembered her words again, still locked against her, inside her, the rhythm he’d built unceasing, words that she seemed to speak from another self floating back into his mind, a version of her that had immense power, an energy that seemed too great for reality, too beautiful for human eyes--soon, you’ll start to remember, what we were before, what we are, and what we will be again--and Duncan saw a version of them in his mind, as though in a memory, where they were both in that place that seemed to be made of those inexplicable colors that he’d felt inside Kenzie, colors that felt like emotions, like the love he felt for her, like the love he could feel coming into him from her. Kenzie’s hair was longer than it was now, it was so long it fell to her knees, and it sheen was indescribably lovely, paler than the tawny-gold he had begun to know so well, a white-gold that was almost silvery, in magnificent waves, and he saw tiny flowers woven through the strands, their color indescribable to him, their shape unlike any flower he could think of--each one seemed to have a hundred tiny petals. Around her forehead was a circlet of gold so thin and fine it seemed an impossible thing to exist at all. Her dress was unlike anything he’d ever seen, either--it seemed to be made of the gossamer strands of a thousand spider webs, a hundred intricate honeycombs of some vast, beautifully geometric design that was simply too complex to ever create, and yet she wore it, and it fit her as though it were her second skin--intricately woven, rose-golden embroidery fell over the dress--its pattern was like a language he could not comprehend. And her eyes--inside her eyes in that place he felt he really could see a universe turning, so magnificent and so golden that they threatened to rend his heart into a thousand fragments. He realized he was inside some other self in this moment--he couldn’t see his own face, but could see his own clothing, the intricately woven sleeves over his arms, in a similar incomprehensible gold embroidery and geometry that made him dizzy to even attempt to contemplate--he wore a kind of thin, woven gold breastplate that was akin to the aegis on likenesses of Athena, but its quality also seemed incomprehensible to him, a weave that seemed to shift and change under his gaze, and he could feel weight at his shoulders--a strange weight that felt familiar, but also heavy beyond all understanding.

And in the memory, or the imagining, or whatever the vision was that he had tumbled into, he noticed with a wild, fierce surprise that Kenzie, this other Kenzie, this Kenzie wrapped in intricate golden lovely things that were not of earth, with shimmering hair twined with tiny universe flowers, had wings extending from her back--wings that were gold and silver and iridescent rose and other colors that he didn’t know the names for, wings that were unlike any wings he’d ever seen on a bird or a bat or any earth-bound winged creature, but he knew they were wings just the same, knew they were wings for a certain kind of being--a divine being.

And then he resurfaced back into the dark of the bedroom, their bedroom, and he was still moving with an intense rhythm against her and he was coming deep inside her now and Kenzie was clutching at his torso between his hips, her cries quiet but her mouth hovering open, and her eyes had that strange glow again, intensely focused on him, the one he’d seen when he woke her from her sleep, and then it faded as he emptied himself into her, his moans extending into deep silence, and he pulled out of her and collapsed beside her, his head falling into the pillow, and clutched her desperately against him and felt her mouth come against his chest and her little hands clasp against his ribs, and Duncan remembered nothing else until he woke the next morning at sunrise in the same position, with her still clutched in his arms, her little breath having left a damp pool against his skin, her face cherubic and far away in her sleep in the dim morning light, and he wondered upon his waking if it had all been a dream. And then he fell back into sleep, his hand coming up to bury in her hair.

-------

“Babyyyy, Dunny…” Duncan felt her little mouth pressed into his ear and his eyes opened--full sunlight was streaming into the room now and Kenzie was leaning down to him, kneeling on the bed, wearing her satin kimono, her eyes (your earthly eyes, baby, not your divine eyes, you keep those hidden most of the time but sometimes I can see a little bit of them, that gold whirling around, and last night I saw all of them and they were beyond words, they were ethereal as the first dawn--) open and awake to him, a little smile playing around her mouth.

“I brought you coffee, baby,” and Kenzie’s hair fell against his collarbone as she dipped down to kiss him, and Duncan’s hand immediately came up, needy, to the space under her ear.

“Kenzie, baby, do you remember that? Last night?” His eyes searched hers--please tell me if that was real, beloved angel. Please tell me that wasn’t a dream. Did you see the vision? Kenzie stared at him, and her mouth dipped open, and Duncan was suddenly hazy with her loveliness again, hazy with longing. I love you more than the morning sunlight, wondrous Kenzie. “You said something to me--that I’d start to remember something, about who we were, who we’re going to be--”

Kenzie eyes lost some of their clarity, and she handed him one of his glass coffee mugs, carefully. He sat up, leaning into the shape of her hand--she dipped her head down and her hair fell over her shoulder again, the strap of her top falling down onto her arm. Duncan wanted to press his lips to the bare skin there--wanted to press his mouth against her heart, the delicate space between her breasts. There is never a moment where I wouldn’t rather be kissing you. He knew she heard him--her face became even more radiant in the daylight, her hand coming up to brush shyly against her cheek at his thoughts.

“I...I don’t know...sort of, baby,” she said finally, eyes flitting up into his and then away, towards the great mirror, towards the window, its curtains partially drawn but the sliver of day visible beyond. “It was like a dream, wasn’t it? Like we both slipped into a dream.”

“Yes, baby, it was, but I don’t think it was a dream.” Duncan brought the coffee to his lips and drank, the hot, bitter liquid coursing down his throat, immediately stirring his senses more sharply. “I think it was like...a memory.”

“How can that be,” Kenzie laughed a little, inside her words. “Dunny, baby, the way you looked to me--you were so radiant, so beautiful, it was too much to bear. You were...you were a real angel, you had wings, but they were--” Duncan was putting the coffee down on the nightstand, his heart suddenly rattling inside him, and he reached out and grasped her hands tightly, pulling her closer. “--they were not like any wings I’ve ever imagined, they were in colors I’ve never seen--” “Kenzie, baby, I saw you that way too--” “And your clothing, it was like, gold and had this design to it, but I couldn’t figure out the--the design, it was like, it was made of something that doesn’t exist in this world--” “Fuck, Kenzie, you looked that way too, baby, your hair had a hundred tiny flowers in it and each flower was made of its own universe, and your eyes were like a gold galaxy spinning--” “Fuck, Dunny, that’s lovely, how can you say that to me, that’s too lovely--but--but you looked so amazing too, your hair was longer and more golden and your eyes were like a blue nebula, but the blue was not any blue I’ve ever seen before, it was--”

Their lips were rushing together again, and he was pulling her against him, sliding towards her, and her little hands came up to twine inside his where they clutched her face tenderly and he thought I love you Kenzie I love you fuck I love you I’m yours I’m yours and when I die my spirit will call out to you through time I’ll still be yours forever never doubt that I am yours my beloved my exalted beloved most hallowed of all most unearthly and divine love and he knew the dream had not been a dream, knew they’d seen something that seemed impossible but was not, something that was hidden deep in time that somehow they had glimpsed, that their love had uncovered the great secret of it, that finding each other here had opened the door on that other place, and he was overwhelmed inside the knowledge, and it was all he could do to hold her against him and taste her, her little face lifted up to him, her eyes closed, her face ecstatic (saintly, her pleasure in this moment sacred), the feeling of her under his hands so intensely real he wanted to cry.

“I--Kenzie, I want--”

Her eyes opened to him--hazel, depth of green--his hands still clutched her and their mouths hovered over each other, pulled back for a moment. I want to marry you. I want to be tied to you in the eyes of all, your most loyal, most faithful, most devoted husband.

He knew she’d heard, despite the words un-escaped from his lips. She looked down, suddenly shy again--her cheeks dusted with color immediately, and she felt achingly warm under his fingers. She was so lovely here, in reality, in his arms, to try to contemplate her in that other place was like trying to contemplate the mathematics of the universe in the face of the glory of one star; there was too much, and she was too great, and her multitudes were staggering, and he felt his breath hitch--felt the tears come against his eyelids. Neither of them said anything, but he could see the emotion gathering in her face towards him; he knew Kenzie could see how close to tears he was, and saw that it was moving her to tears, too.

“After the Gala, when we go to the cabin,” she whispered to him. “We’ll have time and space--to, to think about all of this. To figure it out. To figure out what all of this means. Okay? Duncan. I love you. I love you so much. You are beloved to me. You are the only one for me. Just be patient, okay? Be patient with me, baby. I’m here and we’re together. We just have to get through this first. We’ll be alone so soon. Alone to--alone to--to see each other. To really see.”

Duncan dipped his head away from her--he felt utterly overcome, and tried to gather the many threads of himself that had scattered and dispersed, as if in a gust of wind. He nodded--he knew she was right, knew that his patience was required, knew the rush he felt wasn’t a true need, rather his own deep desires. But he couldn’t help it--he wanted their life to begin so much. I want everything to fall into place, I want us to move the company forward to help others and the wheel of fate to grind toward the greatest good, I want you to have everything you’ve ever dreamed about, Kenzie, angel, I want the sweetness of you in the quietness of the woods, under the starry night sky where there is no one but us.

Baby, she thought into him. Dunny. I love you so much I can’t speak it. I can’t tell you. You have to feel it from me, just feel me, feel that I love you more than life, more than every flower, every living breathing thing, know that you’re the angel of my heart, the light of my body and my soul. And he did--he could. He could feel the golden wave she pushed down into him, the inexplicable touch of her so fine that it felt as though she were wrapping a second skin around him, this one radiant and impenetrable, this one the skin that would protect him from the outside world, invisible but inviolable, his hidden armor, woven by her little slender hands, all her love whispered into each strand, all her divinity blessing him. And my love shall protect thee, guide thee, and keep thee always, for thou art exalted in the light of my adoration, my divinity I give to thee, my sanctity I have divided unto thee, my soul I have split with the aid of the three-headed goddess, my golden thread I have tied to thee, and so thou and I art the same. And Duncan knew these words weren’t really Kenzie’s words--they were the words of the other Kenzie, the one with the silvery hair and the eyes like planets made of gold, the words that winged, ethereal creature had spoken to the other Duncan he had hovered inside last night, the one who wore the golden aegis, the other him with the colossal weight of his own wings.

Then the spell seemed to break, and he felt the tears drift away from him--he gently let go of her, and she slid away from him off the bed, and he felt the peaceful gold she’d borne down on him wafting inside his chest and his belly, in the core of his body. Duncan reached for his coffee again, watching her step into the walk-in, glancing at him over her shoulder with a peaceful, knowing smile. “Time to go see your mother, Duncan.” He groaned a little, smiling back at her--reality seeped back in strongly, and he reached for his phone on the nightstand, turning it over.

There was a text from Annette, confirming that the Vanity Fair interview and photoshoot would be at the Botanic Gardens in a few hours, the one for Forbes at The Lafayette after that, a restaurant inside the Hays-Adams hotel that he’d been to for several interviews in the past, most of them for Gardner Analytics. He had ignored her text from yesterday, wherein she’d called him ludicrously naive, their moving in together preposterous and claimed Kenzie was a greedy little social climber, a phrase that had made him want to hurl his phone across the room despite the heights of his mood with Kenzie in the kitchen only moments before--he looked them over again, scrolling up, fighting the anger seething back into his mind, urging himself to calm. I refuse to let her get a rise out of me today, he thought, and answered his mother today with nothing more than a clipped “Okay.” You can’t make me turn on her, Mom. It’s not going to happen. Never in a million years. You might as well try to make the sky fall down or stop the tides or keep the sun from rising and setting. You will never break us apart. Not only do I love her more than I love my own life--I know, I feel like I know that we’re actual fucking Soulmates, we can hear each other’s fucking thoughts, and I think these dreams and visions we’ve been having are the future, the past, or some strange parallel present. You really don’t fucking get it, but I think eventually you will, because you won’t have any other choice. Eventually everyone will get it. We’re together and I think...I think we always will be, if there are other lives after this one. I think...we always have been.

“I can’t believe we have a fan club now, baby.” He heard Kenzie’s voice drift towards him from where she was hidden from view in the closet, and he came out of the soft gold of the thoughts he’d begun to delve down into.

“You were so sweet to those girls, Kenz. The paps noticed right away. You handled that like a pro, I was so proud of you. I bet Claire’s texted you a BPF post about it already.”

“Check my phone, baby, it’s on my side. My password’s 0717.” Her birthday.

Duncan reached for Kenzie’s white iPhone in its iridescent gold case--he smiled down at the black inverted moon sticker, beginning to rub away into white, running his finger over it, then turned the phone over. Clairebear had indeed texted her (how did I know), a telltale BPF link visible in it, and behind the text Duncan could see her lock screen was ones of the Esquire shots of him--the one where he had a thin circlet of silver around his forehead, his eyes skirting to the left of the camera, their blue emphasized to striking brilliancy by the filter used on the shot, his hand adjusting his cuff facetiously. He thought of his own lock screen, with the shot of her smiling down at the breakfast he’d made her, sunlight on her cheek, grapefruit juice and Adelaide’s silver spoon in her hands--wait until we do a photoshoot together, baby, he thought. God, you’re going to look so beautiful. You always do. I should commission someone to paint you. Fuck, I should fucking do that. I’d die to have a painting of you. A huge one, colossal as The Youth of Bacchus, of you with flowers in your hair, you in wild moonlight, you as the goddess you are, you--

Duncan got up from the bed, glancing up at his naked reflection in the mirror (no wings, no aegis, no long gold hair, that’s for damn sure), then back down at the phone, slowly moving towards the closet doorway with her phone still clutched in his hand, thumbing her password into the surface, reading Claire’s text.

Clairebear: Kenzie Lou, look at this. They LOVE you. You knew exactly what you were doing with this. You wily little lady! I can’t believe you have a fan club now. You have to look at the website these girls have created. I’m just screaming over it, it’s insanely cute. They have like 15,000 members already. It’s insane!!! Also, is Harris single? He’s so hot, oh my FUCKING GOD.

He grinned at her message--I love how Claire texts Kenzie, he thought, and clicked on the BPF link. DUCKENZIE GREET FANS WARMLY OUTSIDE ONE FRANKLIN SQUARE, POSE FOR PHOTOS--the first shot was Lindy passing the roses to Duncan in his sunglasses, the second was a lovely shot of Kenzie smiling at Gabby (god look at her, an angel), then one of her leaning over the newspaper, writing, one of her tucking her hair behind her ear, face still dipped down, Duncan’s hand pressed against her back, his expression unreadable behind his sunglasses (I was worried as fuck), her smile still apparent--how could anyone look at these and not fall in love with her, Duncan thought, his hand coming up against his jaw, trailing there, lost in the photos. There were a few more: side-angles of them posing with each of the girls, then Duncan pulling Kenzie away from them, Harris close behind, glancing darkly into the camera. Duncan turned into the closet, his eyes still on the phone--he tapped one of the photos of her looking up at the girls over the newspaper, the sharpie poised in her hand, enlarging it.

“Baby, look at this--” Duncan held her phone up to where he knew she would be standing, eyes rising to look at her, and then he stopped dead--Kenzie had slipped on the red dress, the lacy red bodice hugging her tiny waist and her round breasts (I fucking love them, I love her), the full lace of the skirt fanning out beautifully down her hips, and she was throwing her chestnut hair over her shoulder, her head still tilted to the side, away from him--she turned and met his eyes, and she smiled at him, her eyes roving up and down his nakedness. “Hey baby,” she murmured, her voice husky.

“God, I love that fucking dress.” His thoughts immediately drifted to when she’d been wearing it as she eased onto his lap in that makeshift dressing room, his fingers coming between her legs and coaxing her into a secret euphoria, the way he’d wiped his fingers after on a tissue and brought it to his nose, the heady scent of her sex making him wildly dizzy. “My mother’s going to flip her shit, baby, and I honestly can’t wait to see it.”

Kenzie stepped toward him, hands coming out to take her phone, her fingers brushing along his as she did, making the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up--she stared up at him for a moment longer, the depth of green hovering behind her corneas--and I love looking at you naked, baby, was the thought she pushed into him, and Duncan bit into his lip, goosebumps breaking out on his skin--then she looked down at her phone and he was staggered again by the loveliness of the smile that fell over her face as she saw the photo.

“I look nice, don’t I?” She said, looking up at him again. “I mean...I look kind, I mean.” She blushed--Duncan melted at the sight of her shyness.

“Baby. You are kind. You’re kind to everyone. And you look fucking beautiful in these. Everyone is in love with you now. I have to admit…” Duncan stepped closer to reach her, his hands falling down her bare arms and the sides of the lacy red dress--Kenzie wore no makeup yet, but her eyes were so wide and so beautifully colored they seemed illuminated somehow--”It makes me a little jealous. I selfishly want you all to myself sometimes. I don’t want to share you.” Kenzie’s eyes fell into his again, and her little hand was falling down his bare torso to trail over his hip bones, needling with her thumbs and forefingers, her mouth opening to him.

“I was thinking, later...” and Kenzie was reaching up to him, tiptoed, her mouth pressing into his jaw as he leaned his head down to her, his hands at her shoulder blades, pressed into her hair. “You could throw me down onto that big, beautiful cherrywood table--” and her mouth was edging along to his chin and to the other side of his jaw, and Duncan couldn’t stop himself from leaning into her, moaning against her, his cock stiffening--”and fuck me on it, baby, fuck me standing while I wear this dress--” and Duncan was nodding against her, his eyes closing with the sensation of her, her little hand flicking down to play over his length, then teasingly away. “--I was thinking I’d really love it if you’d do that…”

“Yes, Princess. Yes, I will--” Duncan’s mind thrilled, imagining her body prostrate against the beautiful antique table, her golden hair tossed onto it, the sound of its creaking as he thrust into her, his mouth on her body. We can finally use that table regularly, he thought. We have to fuck on every surface of this penthouse, baby, every square inch, I need to fuck you as often as you’ll permit me, as often as you’ll desire my attentions--

“Good.” Kenzie moved back from him, eyes intense in his, her mouth and hands sliding away from him, and Duncan groaned desperately at the loss of her touch. “Now, get dressed, baby. Do as I say.” Her eyes skirted down to his cock and Duncan shivered at her eyes--look longer, baby, look at me, I’m yours, my aching sex is all for you, my body, my desires, all for you. But her eyes lingered for only a moment, as if to tease him, then she moved past him on her fast little feet, towards the kitchen. Later, baby. You know later I’ll be yours. Later I’m gonna tell you to fuck me good and you’re going to do it, aren’t you, baby.

Yes, Kenzie. Duncan had half a mind to go after her, to grab her wrists and press his mouth against her, but he knew he wouldn’t, couldn’t--Kenzie told me to obey. Her desires come first. He let out a long, shuddering breath, then turned to where his shirts hung in their quiet, pressed, dark row. He pulled down a black cotton Givenchy shirt with stars embroidered along the collar--all the stars in the sky are for her, he thought, drifting inside his desires as he began to dress, thinking of tiny flowers with a thousand petals, each one containing a universe.

---------

“Kenz, Samuel and Harris are downstairs,” Duncan looked up from the text on his phone to where Kenzie was sitting across from him at the island, about an hour later. She clutched a little bottle of Pellegrino in her hand, a piece of half-eaten sprouted grain toast with unsalted peanut butter in front of her (Duncan had made it for her alongside a sliced, skinned kiwi and a carefully squared mango, which she’d already devoured), hair falling over her shoulder, the Tiffany moon necklace at her throat, glinting at him--she’d applied a little makeup now, though he knew undoubtedly the stylists would want to put more on her for the photos they’d be forced to take today (not that I mind sitting around staring at you, baby, that’s all I ever want to do now)--and she’d been looking at her phone too, grinning at something unseen to him, some secret pleasure on the little screen.

“Baby, look. Look at this. I can’t believe it.”

She pushed her phone across to him--with a little jolt of nerves Duncan realized Kenzie had gone to DUCKENZIEFANS.COM. Holy fuck.

Duncan was used to fans--that is, a certain type of fan. They tended to be women, many of them middle-aged and as questionably-mannered as the two women in the coffee shop who’d taken photos of him and Kenzie without asking, or DC socialites with a desire to climb (that is, fuck) their way up the social ladder of the capital city. Duncan couldn’t deny he’d slept with several such socialites, but they all seemed to be part of a distant past he could barely see now--part of another life, another Duncan, a man who hadn’t understood himself at all, hadn’t bothered to pay closer attention to his real desires, his hopes, or the sources of real happiness he had encountered. Kenzie has awakened my senses to the world that is always hovering just outside our eyesight--the hidden world that is seeped in delicate beauty, the world that comes out when one looks at art, or hears beautiful music, or is present in nature. Love is, I think, all of these things--and all of these things remind me of love. Of the one I love. Of her.

The website had clearly been made by someone with graphic design experience--the interface was lovely and easy to follow, and the aesthetics were pleasing. The home page was tasteful and minimal, gold and soft cream with black lettering--he thought of the two teenage girls who had greeted them--those girls made this website? The headings were in Lobster script, and the text in soft Playfair Display. WEBSITE UNDER CONSTRUCTION, thanks for your patience, read a header near the top. Above it was the photo of the two of them at Le Diplomate taken by some random iPhone camera, but sharpened and filtered to be maximally flattering. A bar down the side had directives neatly listed: DUCKENZIE FAQ, HOW TO JOIN THE FANCLUB, DUNCAN SHEPHERD PRESS RELEASES, MACKENZIE STONE PRESS RELEASES, DUCKENZIE PRESS RELEASES, DUCKENZIE MERCH & FAN CLUB EXCLUSIVES, COMBINED GALLERY, CONTACT INFO, FAN MAIL INFO, MEMBER FORUM. He marveled at the page for a moment, lost in it--Duncan knew he had had fan sites before now, but he’d never looked at any of them beyond Instagram, the site he tended to frequent the most when he had bothered with social media at all in the past. But this website was exceptionally ordered, clearly by someone who was interested in design and who also had developed a serious fascination with the two of them. He clicked on the link titled DUCKENZIE PRESS RELEASES--sure enough, the topmost result was the series of photos from the article posted today on BPF, with Kenzie smiling at Gabby and Lindy, the camera facing her. Under it was a link to the gossip site and a long series of paragraphs, clearly written by the two girls, about how friendly and warm Kenzie had been to them. Duckenzies, you wouldn’t believe how lovely she is in person! It’s like she’s surrounded by a warm ring of sunlight and being near her makes your whole body tingle. She smelled like roses and flowers, like a goddess of spring. Just being close to her was so incredible. Below a few paragraphs was another photo, this one a close-up of Kenzie’s signature and the message she’d written out on the newspaper. A special message to us and all of you from Kenzie herself. Below that was the iPhone shots of the girls posing with them. They were so kind and gracious to us! Everything we hoped and knew they would be!

“That’s just insane to me,” Kenzie said as Duncan continued to click through the site. “‘Duckenzie Merch’,” and she lifted her fingers up on either side of her head, feigning quotations. “Stickers with my face on them for everyone!”

“I want stickers with your face on them, too, they better send me some.”

Kenzie made a face at him and Duncan grinned. I mean it, though. I’ll put them on everything I own, I don’t care. I’ll buy every fucking sticker they’ve made. He glanced away from Kenzie’s phone reluctantly, at the face of the black Ballon Bleu Cartier he’d chosen for the inevitable photos that would be taken of him today--different from the silver one he’d worn the night he met Kenzie on the balcony. This one was framed in rose-gold (and the gold reminds me of her). He noted it was a quarter till noon. “We gotta go, baby. They’re expecting us at 12:30. In the Rose Garden, can you believe that?” He smiled at her; roses for my Kenzie. He looked at his Cartier again, thoughtfully, as Kenzie finished her toast and stood to put her plate in the long steel sink, washing her hands, staring at her succulents along the windowsill. He admired her tawny blonde hair, falling down her back from the crown of her head in soft waves. I’m going to get her something to adorn her lovely little wrists. I want to give her more tokens of my love, one for each part of her body. He thought of the rose choker, coiled in one of the drawers in their closet--I’ll strap it to your soft little throat tonight, baby love, I’ll kiss you all along its smooth leather as I plunge into your sweet rosy cunt. He looked up to see she’d turned and was staring at him, and knew she’d heard the thought--the color of her gaze shivered with hidden arousal, that hidden, golden power he knew she had over him. “Anything in my teeth, baby,” was all she said, though, baring them at him. He laughed, delighted at the feigned ferocity in her gaze. “Just your sweet smile.” Kenzie rolled her eyes at him, coming around the side of the island, languidly leaning down on its smooth surface to dip her face towards him, the red lace dress hugging her waist and floating around her beautifully, sending warm waves of tingling longing down his spine. “Mr. Shepherd, you’re infatuated.”

“I love you.” And Duncan pulled her arms insistently into him, burying his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her smell in deeply. How I feel, baby. How I feel with you. Like I can’t help but be sincere. My heart is so full of you there’s no room for anything else.

“Can’t wait for your mother’s head to spin when she sees my dress,” Kenzie’s tone was playful and her hand fell down the side of his hair, her cheek at his temple. He closed his eyes, still pressed against her neck, lost for a moment in the feeling of her little fingers, the pressure of her skin under his eyelashes.

“It’s a Kenzie dress,” he murmured against her. “Not like the other one. This one has you all over it. I love it so much. I think it’s perfect. And whoever’s doing the shoot is going to love it too, I bet.” He leaned up to look at her and her face was suddenly hovering very close to his, her lips whispering over his, her eyes half-lidded, looking down into him.

“I love you, Duncan Shepherd.”

“What did I do to deserve the love of an angel?” He couldn’t stop the words from falling out of his mouth, falling against her lips, hovering so close to him. Her leg was crooked into his thigh, her little stomach breathing against his, his hands pressed insistently into her hair along her back--you fit so sweet and small into my arms, my beloved. I could hold you this way all day, drunk on the scent of you, drunk with your softness. She was wearing the golden-strap heels again, and his hand came around to her foot, trailing over the laces.

“Oh stoppit.”

“I won’t.”

“It’s time for us to go, baby,” Kenzie tried to extract herself from his arms, but Duncan held fast to her, pressing his lips, then the tip of his tongue to the bare skin under her ear. She softened in the tenderness of his mouth; he heard her moans against him and wished the day would fade back into night for them, wished they were in the woods, under a night sky in a hidden forest, wished the world would just leave them be, let him kiss her, turn the sun away from them and bathe them in the shadows of their bed. But no, the world was waiting (Duckenzie, here they come, quick, take a picture), and so was Annette Shepherd. When Kenzie tried to pull away this time, Duncan let go of her, heart bruising at the sudden coldness of his lap. Kenzie slipped her convertible bag over her shoulder from where she’d left it by the penthouse door. “Pass me my phone, baby,” she said, her eyes bright on him. “Let’s go. The sooner we leave the sooner it’s over with.”

Duncan clutched her little gold iPhone, sighing deeply. “Don’t let Annette give you any shit today, baby,” he said, standing and handing it to her, fingers brushing down her wrist, her little face looking up at him, her expression one of aching trust, as he leaned protectively over her. “You’re a Shepherd now too, as far as I’m concerned. If she wants to insist you belong there, we’ll show her that you really do.”

Kenzie’s eyes flashed at him, and she lifted her chin in that defiant way--his throat clenched, head suddenly hazy with adoration. You got it, baby. Duncan barely had time to slip his wallet into the tailored pocket of his slacks before Kenzie clasped his hand in an iron grip, pulling him out the door and down the hallway. You got it, baby.

---------

Duncan remembered his meeting with Claire Underwood tomorrow as Samuel drove them towards the Botanical Gardens--a meeting he had no real idea of how to navigate, considering Annette’s insistence that the President was, in fact, her enemy, therefore the enemy of the company. What can I say to convince her I’m not, he wondered. Especially being unable to disclose that I’m gaining majority share once BIll dies? Nervously, he wondered if it was indeed possible without making her suspicious of him. Maybe meeting with her before Bill’s death wasn’t such a good idea after all. Too late now, Duncan. You’ll have to play like the old Duncan. The one who was ruthlessly loyal to Annette, and Claire Underwood knew it.

Kenzie’s hand was tucked under his thigh, and he glanced at her; she was staring out the window, seemingly admiring the historic Georgetown colonials they drifted past, her little lips mouthing the words to the John Denver Samuel had playing low--you fill up my senses, like a night in a forest, like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain--the lovely dip of her collarbones lifting in her quiet breath against the fitted lace bodice and her diamond moon necklace, the lacy folds of the crimson skirt fanning out around her legs. Her phone was in her lap and he could see the outline of her Instagram profile open on it--2 million followers now. He could see she’d made a new post, featuring the photos of them posing with the two girls from DUCKENZIEFANS. My sweet Kenzie. Duncan made sure she was still distracted by the music and the scene outside her window, then angled his phone up to snap a discreet photo of her--her hair fell beautifully across her shoulder in the sunlight, and her mouth was open a little, mouthing the song, her cheek turned to the side and her eyes lifted away from the shot. On our way to talk to @vanityfair, did you know my @kenzielouwho has a beautiful singing voice? #comeletmeloveyou #letmegivemylifetoyou

Kenzie still hadn’t noticed anything--he could feel the drifting cascade of her thoughts falling against him every few moments, and knew; you really love this song, baby. It’s making you think of me. It’s making me think of you, too. Let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms. He opened the browser app and typed cartier.com, highlighting Jewelry, then under COLLECTIONS, he double-tapped LOVE. He chose two bracelets--one band of 18k yellow gold, and another band, also yellow gold, smaller, with 4 brilliant diamonds. He tried to keep his mind quiet as he did, tried to think of his mother and his meeting with Claire Underwood. He finished the order and closed out of the Cartier website--there. All done.

“All done with what, baby?” Kenzie turned to him, blinking. Annie’s Song had ended, and she seemed to resurface from a dream. Duncan noticed that they were a few yards back from pulling up to the Botanical Gardens; he lifted his thigh a little to grasp her hand. “Nothing, baby, just something I had to take care of for work.”

“Hmmmmmm,” Kenzie replied, giving him a suspicious look. “It doesn’t seem like that’s quite right.”

“It’s a surprise, baby.” Get out of my head, let me surprise you, my love.

“Stop buying me things.” He could see she was trying to hide the smile that wanted to fall over her mouth--she pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes at him.

“I won’t.”

“Duncan Shepherd.” She crossed her arms.

“I want to, baby. Please let me.”

She gave him another long look, pouting her lips a little.

“Please, Miss Stone. Let me bring you tribute for your altar.”

Kenzie blushed deeply at that, turning away from him. Duncan leaned down to her little cheek, bringing the hand that wasn’t holding hers tightly up to the dip under her chin, turning her jaw towards him.

“It’s a way I can worship you,” he spoke down to her ear. “Let me worship you, Kenzie.” He felt her shiver under his touch; he dipped his lips down to her skin and let them linger there, closing his eyes, savoring her softness and the sweet scent of her perfume (rose, vetiver, geranium, no, I’ll never tire of it).

“What’s your middle name, baby?” He heard her ask softly. “So I can use it when I’m annoyed with you.” He laughed into her cheek at that and felt it rise as she smiled under his fingers.

“It’s Malcolm. Follower of the Saint. Mom told me it was going to be my first name for awhile, but she decided she wanted it to be Duncan after all. The Warrior. Fearless.”

Kenzie gazed at him for a long moment as the BMW drifted to a stop on the curb. Then she mouthed his name, quietly. “Duncan Malcolm Shepherd. Warrior, follower of the Saint.”

“And what does Mackenzie mean?”

She smiled at him, winsome, charming him, teasing.

“Guess.”

“Fast as a falling star.”

She grinned. “No.”

“Lover of horses.”

She laughed at that. “No.”

“Beautiful as a rose kissed by spring dew at dawn.” He dipped his head to her, breathing along the delicate space between of her neck.

Kenzie looked away from him at that; he saw the shyness fall into her, felt it; the gossamer wave of her affection, the demure tinge of her longing for him.

“Kenzie.”

“It means lovely.” Harris was coming out of the front passenger door, buttoning his jacket, wearing dark sunglasses, stepping to open Kenzie’s door. The partition was floating down. Duncan could see several people walking on the sidewalk outside; some of them were turning, curious, to look at the BMW. He turned back to her, and he and Kenzie stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment; hers with gold discs floating behind the hazel--Duncan thought for an instant he could see his own eyes in her mind, you pierce my spirit with them, she thought, blue like the sky after a storm, the storm you’ve stirred in my soul, the wild love you’ve given me, every kiss and every touch too beautiful for words, every instance of your love a miracle.

“Of course it does,” he breathed.

Kenzie smiled at him. In time I’ll memorize every tiny detail of your face--I’ll remember everything, he thought. Beloved.

Harris opened the door and she slipped away from him, her little golden iPhone clutched in her hand, her hair falling back, the red lace of her skirt sliding off the leather seat. Duncan followed her out, squinting into the summer sunlight. He glanced to where several pedestrians had stopped to watch the car (two middle-aged companions, a man and a woman in professional attire; a younger woman in jogging clothes with a German Shepherd on a leash); there was dawning recognition in their eyes and the jogging girl immediately lifted her phone up. Duncan turned away, annoyed, certain she’d snapped the picture anyway. He reached for Kenzie’s hand as she slipped her round sunglasses over her eyes, and Harris moved in front of her, blocking her from view from the people watching. There were a few more people inside the front gardens to the southwest, and they stared after Duncan and Kenzie with obvious interest, but Duncan was relieved to see that the Rose Garden had a sign on the gate saying it would be closed for maintenance for the day--the “maintenance” in this case being their interview and photocall with Vanity Fair. As they approached they saw a tall Asian woman with very long, straight black hair and razor-cut bangs, in a smart short-sleeved navy blazer, a black v-neck blouse and a pencil skirt, standing at the gate from the other side. She waved to them a little, giving them a small smile, using a key to unlock it; she pulled the gate open and Kenzie and Duncan stepped through, Harris tight on their heels, and the woman locked it securely behind they moved further in, shielded by tall arborvitae bushes.

“River Tsukamoto, staff writer for Vanity Fair.” She reached out a hand first to Duncan, then to Kenzie, who grinned at her. She had a coy, small smile, and very dark eyeshadow and lipstick, almost black, and no accent. “So wonderful to meet you both. Annette arrived a few minutes ago--she’s in hair and makeup. We don’t always do it this way, but she said you have another interview later today--is it okay if we conduct this one as we shoot?”

“That’s fine,” Duncan replied. “Whatever’s easiest for you.”

He gave her a small, close-mouthed smile, and still saw the telltale sag in her features that his smile tended to cause with people. River’s eyes flicked back and forth between him and Kenzie; down the length of Kenzie’s lacy red summer dress, the fall of her tawny hair, up his tall form and the smart cut of his clothing, lingering in his blue eyes and flitting over to Kenzie’s, their depth of green and gold making the other woman blink rapidly. River’s eyes fell to Kenzie’s moon diamond necklace--she seemed to recognize it. We must have an Instagram follower here.

“God, I have to say, you’re both just stunning in person.” The woman’s cheeks turned a deep crimson almost instantly, and she crooked an arm around her stomach. “I have to admit I started following both of your Instas since your relationship became public, they’re just--ugh, I love them.”

Duncan hesitated and Kenzie immediately stepped towards the woman--”What’s yours? I’ll follow you back.” Kenzie was holding her phone up, opening the app.

“Oh, oh my god, yes. It’s just @rivertsukamoto. Ugh, that would be so great.” River smiled again, this time dipping her body down and clenching her fists a little, bouncing in the black open-toed boots she wore--her toes were painted black. “I just loved those photos of you guys at the beach, so gorgeous.” Kenzie grinned up at her. “Thank you, that was a really wonderful day. There, now we’re Insta friends.”

“Right this way--” and River extended her arm, the blush still on her pale cheeks, leading them towards the center of the rose garden, where several stone benches surrounded a fountain, with dozens of rose bushes in different colors and varieties circling all around the courtyard, deep damask red, rosy-white bourbon, burgundy-colored hybrids, creamy york, sunny yellow--a tall sandy-stone building rose ahead of them with pointed turrets and art-deco glass windows. Duncan’s eyes skirted to where there were two trailers set up along one side of the bushes--River ushered them towards the one at the right, opening the door and beckoning them inside, wherein a very large, hairy man in suspenders and combat boots with a very curly mustache, long hair tied in a messy bun, and very glittery eyeshadow greeted them with a screech of delight.

“Alister at your behest, dumplings,” he said, gasping in a high voice. “Duncan Shepherd and Mackenzie Stone, sit down. God, you two are like sweet pastries, Duncan, you’re a chocolate eclair, Miss Kenzie, you’re a little pink macaron. You’re first, prince of the piercing blue eyes. Sit.”

Duncan settled down into the nearest styling chair, and Kenzie settled into one beside him, two circular mirrors mounted against the trailer’s back wall wherein Duncan could see her nervous expression across from him. Alister was washing his hands at a basin sink in the corner, and Duncan saw Kenzie take her phone out, snapping a picture of their two reflections, him side-eyeing her with a bemused expression, the phone angled over her mouth, her eyes skirting back to him. Then Alister was gripping his jaw carefully and pressing a pencil onto his eyelid.

“God, you don’t even really need anything, do you,” the big man spoke down to him in his high, lilting voice. “Your skin is gorgeous. This jaw could cut someone in half. Your eyes are out of control. Your lips are like fucking pillows. Just kill me, honey.” Kenzie was laughing into her hand, her eyes squeezed shut.

“Honey, you don’t even get to laugh, you’re fucking him, that’s not even fair,” Alister pointed the brush in his hand at her in mock-severity, rolling his eyes, turning back to Duncan--this just made Kenzie laugh harder. “God, you smell like a fucking Tom Ford runway, too. And what are you wearing, it fits you like a second skin, oh my fucking god, who does your tailoring?”

“A gentleman never reveals his tailor,” Duncan was trying not to laugh himself; Kenzie’s wild amusement was making him want to jump out of the chair and tackle her with kisses.

“Is he a gentleman?” Alister glanced over at Kenzie, using the brush to swish powder across Duncan’s cheekbone. “I bet he is to you, honey, you little sugar plum.”

Kenzie was coming down from her laughter, brushing tears from the corners of her eyes.

“He is. He’s an angel.”

“Oh shut up. You’re both stupidly beautiful and wildly in love. Sickening. Your Instas are the hottest thing online right now, I saw you taking that photo honey, make sure you tag me, @alisterrichardsstyle.” “I promise I will, thank you, Alister.” Kenzie snorted into her hand again. Seeing her laugh this way made Duncan feel absolutely dazzled. I’m your biggest fan, baby love.

“There.” Alister hadn’t done more than add some dark eyeliner and very light contour to Duncan’s face; Duncan had had this reaction from stylists before, and was used to light “touch-ups” versus any kind of lengthy makeup for shoots. “You honestly didn’t even need that, but keeping up appearances and all that. You might be the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen, baby. And I’ve seen some boys.” Alister moved over to where Kenzie sat, glancing up at him nervously.

“Now, you, little baby angel. Let’s give you some lips to go with that dress, mama.” As Alister worked on Kenzie’s face Duncan couldn’t help but stare--her eyelashes darkened and became longer under his hands, her eyelids painted a iridescent pink, her cheek rosied, her lips dark crimson red to match the lacy dress. Duncan was struck by the romanticism of her hair over her shoulder, the glance she gave him as Alister finished on her--suddenly, my dark fiery goddess of blood-red wine.

“I guess you’re more like a little red box of Valentine’s Day chocolate now, baby,” Alister said to her as he moved the lipstain wand from her mouth. “Stay still while I document.” Alister pulled his phone out of his large pocket and took several snaps of her face from all angles, then moved over to Duncan and did the same thing to him. “Gonna pretend like I created all this beauty myself,” Alister smirked. “You are free to go, my angelic darlings. I shall wave to you from your place in the heavens.” Alister gave them a little bow just as River pulled the door open. “Alister, are you done on them?” Duncan was going over to Kenzie and grasping her hand--they thanked Alister, Kenzie still giggling into her palm.

“Oooooo, gorgeous,” River cooed, staring at them openly. “Annette’s over here.” Duncan’s heart rammed up into his mouth as he saw his mother, her beauty clouded with annoyance (as was her usual with him lately--Duncan remembered how he’d brushed her off the last time he saw her, and her angry texts regarding their living together), staring down at the large screen of her phone, typing quickly. She looked up at them and Duncan saw her clouded gaze darken further at Kenzie’s appearance.

“Mackenzie, what are you wearing.” It wasn’t a question as much as a demand--an angry demand for a satisfying answer.

“Mom, please, lay off her.”

“Duncan, don’t take that fucking condescending tone with me. And you’re living together now, what a fucking joke. Absolutely thoughtless.” Annette stood and her eyes flashed--she wore an asymmetrical black crepe dress with a draped neck, and pointed black stilettos. Today she also wore a gold necklace with three round diamond stones in addition to her customary diamond earrings--more jewelry than Duncan had seen on her since the last photoshoot they’d had, which was several months ago. Her look was undoubtedly, undeviatingly Annette. But what you don’t seem to understand is Kenzie is not going to dress like you. She’s going to dress like her.

“Annette, the paparazzi swarmed my apartment building--” Duncan looked down at Kenzie to see her face creased with anxiety, her little voice distraught, floating up to his ear towards Annette. He could see how much she was trying to keep her temper, and it made him want to shield her from Annette’s cruelly dark eyes.

“Then you find another fucking apartment, sweetie,” Annette snapped at her, and he felt Kenzie flinch in his hand, as if she wanted to run away from the scene. No, baby, no, remember what I said. Show her who’s boss. You’re the boss now, Kenzie. You’re in charge. You belong here. Show her.

Annette was openly sneering at Kenzie now, her eyes taking on that unnerving, deeply dark sheen they’d had over dinner at Plume. River was standing by nervously, not speaking, seemingly afraid to butt into the sudden vehemency of Annette’s manner--a photographer, camera in hand, a woman with boxy glasses and salt-and-pepper hair, had come up to her and whispered in her ear, and she was hurriedly whispering back, head turned towards the encounter. Clouds had drifted over the sun while they were in the trailer, and it suddenly seemed as though it might rain--yeah, really fucking rain, Duncan thought. Kenzie suddenly gripped his hand so hard it hurt, and he flinched, looking down at her--her eyes were staring into Annette’s, and they were swirling with the gold sheen usually saved for him alone--a sheen so bright it almost hurt him to look into them. Her other hand had come around to grip at the diamond moon around her neck, tightly, so tight he could see her fingers turning red. His head snapped up to his mother’s face; she seemed caught inside Kenzie’s whirling gaze, and her own took on a dazed expression, as though she were trying to remember something she’d forgotten.

“Duncan and I are together now. You can’t tear us apart.” Kenzie’s voice was trembling at first--then, it evened and soothed, and became very clear. “Please accept my presence in his life, Annette. He’s told you this before: your disapproval will not end our attachment. But it will bring him sadness. And it will bring you sadness, too.” Kenzie’s voice was mesmerizing in this moment; Duncan remembered flashes of the vision of her last night, a vision that seemed to be slowly fading from his understanding in the fabric of reality; the Kenzie with white hair that had flowers like little universes, eyes like whirling cosmic vistas, a gown made of the intricate geometries of some unknown intergalactic fiber, wings of some unfathomable divinity. This voice is like the voice of that Kenzie. That Kenzie is afraid of no earthly being. The air suddenly felt very heavy, as though a thunderstorm were about to begin.

“Please, don’t direct your anger on us anymore.” Duncan felt Kenzie’s hand grow strangely cold for a moment--cold, then surge back into warmth, like hot water dumped over ice. Her grip on him relaxed--the heavy feeling in the air seemed to dissipate, and he took a deep breath.

The clouds moved a little from their place over the sun, slowly allowing it to peek out again. Annette was strangely quiet--her expression had changed from one of anger to the dazed expression of confusion to one that now seemed to have forgotten her anger entirely; her annoyance remained, but it was less pointed towards Kenzie, now directed at River and the photographer standing to the sidelines. They didn’t seem to really understand or recall what had just happened--River was blinking rapidly, as though disoriented from a loud sound.

“What are we all standing around for?” Annette barked at her. “Are we doing this or not? I have a full schedule today, Ms. Tsukamoto.”

“Kenzie,” Duncan leaned down to her, his lips to her ear. “What did you do?”

“I--I don’t know,” she whispered, looking at Annette. Duncan’s mother was moving away from them, talking to River with a clipped voice. The photographer was interjecting, pointing to the fountain and gesturing. “I think...I just told her to stop. Stop being the way she’s being to us, to me and you, to us being together. I think it was like...a kind of command. Baby, I don’t know.” Kenzie was pressing a hand against her forehead, breathing slowly through her nose, out through her mouth, her red lips shining in the afternoon sun.

“Okay, baby. Okay. Let’s get through this, okay? We can do this.” He soothed his thumb over her hand. Kenzie nodded, weakly. He led her over to where Annette was now sitting by the fountain.

“Hey, I’m Anna Peterson.” The photographer approached them, peering at them over her glasses, pushing a hand through her hair. She seemed either unfazed by what had just happened, or seemed to have forgotten it entirely. Kenzie was still pressing her hand on her forehead, but Duncan nodded to her. 

“You two are...really something. I have to get some shots of the two of you alone, I think. We’ll do something with Annette while River’s conducting the interview, but I’d love for you to pose for me a few times together without her. If that’s alright with you.”

“Is that okay, Kenz?” Duncan looked down at her. She nodded a little. He turned to Anna. “Do you have any water bottles?” Anna trotted over to one of the trailers and emerged a few moments later with an unopened plastic water bottle, handing it out to Kenzie. Kenzie reached for it with shaking hands; Duncan grasped it, opening it for her. “Thanks baby,” she whispered, sipping at it carefully. River was already asking Annette questions--Duncan felt weary at the prospect of trying to lie about his intentions for the company, and the longer he could put it off today, probably for the better. Anna eyed them both again--Duncan noted how impatient she seemed to start with the camera on them, fiddling her fingers over its black-and-silver surface, hopping from side to side--and said “How about we do a couple shots right now? Just some warm-up stuff. How about over here?” She gestured with one hand to where groups of blushing bourbon roses were clustered in two adjacent bushes, about a yard away from where River and Annette were going back and forth, Annette’s clipped voice carrying over to them.

Duncan nodded, gently pulling Kenzie in front of one of the bushes, to a spot of partial shade under an oak tree that grew beside them--she still clutched the water bottle in one hand, and Duncan could see the moisture gathering along the outside trembling as the bottle shook in her unsteady grip. Anna was already snapping away, having started as soon as he and Kenzie began to move; Duncan kept his hand threaded through hers, thinking soft waves of love towards her. I don’t know what you did to Mom, Kenz, but it worked. It’s like she forgot we’re even here. It was like the power we pushed over her at dinner, but even stronger. I think the powers we can use, whatever the fuck they are, whatever they mean--I think they’re getting stronger. I think we can direct them better, control them better. Kenzie set the water bottle down in the crook of the oak tree’s roots, and came close to him, her hands reaching out for him. Duncan couldn’t stop himself; he pressed his palm against her jaw, heard the furious clicking of Anna’s camera.

I still don’t really know what I did though, baby. Kenzie was looking up at him, her hazel eyes drifting into different colors as the clouds partially obscured the sun again--Anna paused for a moment, and said “God, that’s lovely, just keep doing that, the way you’re looking at each other, Duncan, keep touching her that way,” towards them. Their bodies were leaning close; the roses framed behind them. Gladly, he thought. I’ll gaze at you and hold you all day, angel baby. Kenzie seemed to be calming, the trembling running down from her limbs. Duncan moved his hands down to hold Kenzie at the waist--she pressed into him, sighing, her chin angling up. Gaze away, her gold thought drifted against him. I love you so. In your eyes I am content. They’re home.

“Mackenzie, look over here.” The camera was snapping rapidly, repeatedly. Kenzie glanced to Anna--almost involuntarily, it seemed, she laid her temple against Duncan’s chest, and his hand came up against her hair--he gazed down at the aureate crown of her golden-chestnut hair and pressed his lips against it as she glanced over at Anna, her little red lips parted just slightly, her eyes shining with the damp residue of her emotions. Duncan savored the warmth of her despite the hotness of the day, the feeling of the lace of her dress under his fingers, the dip of her waist, the cascade of her hair, the heady scent of her. You’re my home too, baby. You’re the resting place of my soul.

“Wow,” Anna said. She seemed to have forgot about them, in a sense; seemed to be thinking about the photos rather than their physical presence. “That’s going to be a final shot for absolute certain.” Kenzie turned her face into him now, her eyes fluttering closed, overwhelmed; Duncan looked to Anna’s camera now, and couldn’t stop the protective wave that fell over him, his resentment towards the world around them that didn’t seem to grasp how extraordinary Kenzie was, how luminously beautiful within, brighter than a hundred other souls combined, how desperately she had to be protected from anyone who would wish her harm, how divine it was that her spirit was on earth at all. “Gorgeous, gorgeous, fuck, perfect,” Anna was murmuring, coming around their right side. “Like a fairy tale. Your eyes, Duncan, they’re like sharp little polished sapphires. Hold that pose for me, please.” Kenzie looked up at him; they really are, she thought to him. They are like sapphires. I love your eyes, baby.

And your eyes are like autumn leaves dusted with golden evening lights. She pulled away from him, grinning in embarrassment--Duncan clutched at her arms, pulling her back to him, pressing his lips into the bottom of her jaw as he lifted her little body up to him, Anna clicking her camera all the while. No baby, let me. Let me tell you how beautiful you are, Kenzie. Let me tell you and know how sincerely I mean it, my body and soul aching for you, hungry for you every minute. Please know how much I love you.

I know baby, I know. And I love you--so much. So fucking much. So much it’s almost hard to look at you, to feel all that love from you, because I feel like the love I feel for you and the love I feel coming from you is so great--together, it’s like they’re going to burst my heart into a thousand pieces.

Let it burst, then. Mine will too. The fragments of both of us will still find each other again. I’d find you if you were at the opposite end of the universe, baby. I’d search for you until I found you. I swear on everything. On my life, on my death, on every star. I promise. I would fucking find you. His hands were threading through her hair, their lips not quite touching but their mouths hovering near each other; Duncan resurfaced from the intoxicating nexus of her, glancing over at Anna again; the older woman was gaping openly at them, her camera hovering in her hands, forgotten. Then she shook her head as if to clear it, and nodded at him, mouthing the word again. Perfect.

------

The interview, so far as it concerned him and Kenzie, went surprisingly smoothly--whatever influence Kenzie had had on Annette seemed to extend through the remainder of their time with River and Anna; the photographer took several shots of them around the fountain, Duncan standing behind his mother in one with Kenzie sitting in the opposite direction, and another with Kenzie and Duncan sitting together and Annette standing, her gaze off to the side. Duncan wondered with mounting impatience what the photos would look like when the article was released; wondered if by the time it was published it wouldn’t already be obsolete in context. Annette had already given answers to several questions from River regarding the company that Duncan knew were not entirely accurate or truthful--and answers he knew would not coincide with the new model for the company when he gained majority share. Duncan knew Kenzie was getting glimpses of his inner frustration as the afternoon wore on; she would glance at him with concern deep in her eyes, and reach for his hand, her lips pressing together. Better not to talk much anyway, baby, she said to him, secretly; that way you won’t be branded a liar later. And Annette can’t pretend like you went along with all of this just to turn on her. I’m with you, baby. We should talk to Momby soon about the board of directors. I’m sure she’ll say yes. We’re going to make it through all of this--and then we’ll have our whole lives ahead of us.

Her voice inside his head had soothed him as the afternoon wore on, and by the time River was turning off her recorder and closing her notes, Annette seemed to be in a mood that could almost approach good for once. She was glancing down at her phone with a neutral expression; then, it seemed to cloud again as she received a text. Kenzie had been whispering into his ear, giggling over Claire asking if Harris was single, trailing kisses along his skin there. Annette looked up at him, and he knew something was wrong.

“Your uncle’s been taken to the hospital again.” She was standing, her lips pressing in a thin line, the clouds having returned strongly overhead--this time they seemed to be here to stay, having multiplied and extended over the sky, so the day was no longer bright or as hot. Annette’s hand was coming up to brush her hair off her shoulder, and her expression became unreadable, dark, hidden. “I have to meet him there. We’ll have to postpone the Forbes interview.”

“Mom, I could do it without you--”

“No. I don’t think so.” She seemed to falter for a moment, her eyes skirting over to Kenzie beside him, who was staring back at her solemnly, sympathy in her hazel eyes. Kenzie forgives you for everything, I know she does. She always does. She wants to be your friend. She wants to be a daughter to you. I know that, even if she won’t say it, won’t really say it, not yet, not even to me. Annette’s tone wasn’t angry and incredulous, as it had been--now, it was tinged with a sort of weary resignation, and a hidden sadness that she refused to show outwardly. “I think perhaps it’s better to cancel it entirely. There’s too much happening in the company right now to give a business-forward interview, anyway. With the company itself soon to be in such flux--it seems unwise. This one is done, besides.” Annette suddenly looked very tired. Duncan reached out to his mother--she gripped under his arms, and he knew in a rush how badly she had wanted to touch him, then. Knew that she was mourning his uncle already, in her heart of hearts, a heart she never showed to anyone but him, and then only in rare flashes that seemed to disappear right after the instant they emerged.

“Mom. I love you.”

“My sweet Duncan.” River and Anna had gone away, back to one of the trailers, and Harris stood with his mother’s bodyguard, Becket, a huge, menacing man who rarely spoke, at the far edge of the garden by the gate, too far away to hear any conversation from the distance; the Rose Garden had grown oddly quiet, the only sounds the drift of the summer wind and the trickle of the water, and Kenzie was sitting on the fountain beside where he and his mother stood, staring at the ground, her hair falling down her shoulders, her hand clutching at the moon pendant at her throat. As he glanced at her he could see that she had tears gathered in the corners of her eyes--he glanced back at his mother, caught between their emotions.

“You were always such a perceptive, sensitive child.” Annette was loosening her grip on his arms, stepping back from him. “I fought to steel your nerves for the world outside. It’s cruel and unkind and ruthlessly hard, and I knew it would crush you if I didn’t prepare you for it. I’m sorry if I...I’m sorry if I have sometimes been cold to you. I tried to...I tried to protect you. I have tried to. You had to be fearless to survive this world, and I knew it, and I became obsessed with my need to prepare you. I wonder if I--” she turned her face to look over his shoulder, into Kenzie’s eyes--seemed to notice the tears there. “I wonder if I’ve been too stubborn regarding certain...things. As your uncle worsens, I...”

Annette’s eyes grew misty--she smiled, but the smile was achingly sad to him.

“I wonder if I haven’t confused the things that truly matter with what seemed to for so long.”

Duncan watched, his body going stiff with shock, as Annette went around him and reached down to Kenzie with one shaking hand. I’ve never seen Mom shake like that. It’s my uncle. Bill’s dying. He’s really dying. And I think she just realized that. Really realized it, and began to accept it. He’s going to die very soon.

Kenzie reached up to her--as their fingers grasped each other, Duncan watched (felt) the golden wave of Kenzie’s energy (her attention, her kindness, her goodness, her love) fall down over his mother in its quiet, cascading swell. Annette sighed--the sigh seemed to be tinged with surprise, as though whatever she was receiving from Kenzie was moving beyond words, tinged with too much feeling to resist. Duncan couldn’t quite glimpse it in its entirety--it seemed to be a secret of some kind that Kenzie passed into his mother, something for her and her alone. Duncan felt another sharp wave of shock as he watched Annette lean down to Kenzie’s little cheek and kiss it, a tiny, short peck of her lips to the soft skin of his beloved’s sweet face. The kiss, he knew instantly, was sincere.

And then the moment passed, and Annette walked away from them, towards Becket and the gate, slipping her dark sunglasses over her eyes, shielding him and Kenzie from her emotions entirely. The big man ushered her through the gate, and they were lost from view.

“Dunny,” Duncan heard Kenzie’s little voice before he turned to her, heard the tears in it, and they weren’t tears of sadness, not really--they’d become tears of relief, he saw as he looked into her eyes, their whirling gold telling him clearly, and he rushed to her and gathered her up in his arms, and she was so small and her body shook against him, and Duncan touched her cheek where his mother had kissed her, and it seemed to burn under his fingers, burn like it had been held close to a flame, and he held her among the quiet roses, the sweet-scented summer wind falling against them, and the moment soothed and dissolved, and they lingered in it for a long while.

[captaindaddykru]

The 100 Ask Game

i was tagged by @foreverandalwayscrysis even though i accidentally end up ignoring her for weeks bc i’ve migrated towards twitter. major dumb b*tch energy.

1. What Station on the Ark would you be from? probably argo station bc im from the south and im surrounded by farmers. theyre everywhere. get me out.

2. What would you get arrested for on the Ark? yelling at someone in command for being a basic bitch? fighting for equality? stealing meds for the poor?

3. Would you take off your wristband when you landed on the ground? if bellamy asked me to? y-yeah.

4. What would the necklace Finn would make for you look like? (Clarke: deer/Raven: a raven duh..) i’d love a turtle

5. If you could resurrect any MINOR character who would it be? ok if we dont count miles ezekiel shaw bc he was in more than two eps, definitely wells.

6. Create a squad of 5 characters to go on missions with. Who are they? bellamy, clarke, raven, shaw & harper. 

7. What Grounder Clan would you belong to? there is only one kru<3<3 anyway, floukru if it was my own decision.

8. What would your name be in Trigedasleng? sumn like maksim? or just maks? idk the whole language is confusing to me

9. Thoughts on Finn? Some people hate him, and others love him, so I’m curious. did everyone try the chicken? i thought the chicken was lovely. nah, all jokes aside -- what he did to raven was absolutely disgusting, but i kind of liked his storyline. how he went from being holier-than-thou to absolutely losing his damn mind over clarke to point he shoots up an entire village of innocent people? it was interesting. but he died when he shouldve.

10. Be honest. How willing would you have been to take the chip without knowing all the horrible things it does? im not gonna take shit. grass is always greener on the other side.

11. What character do you relate to most? definitely clarke. thats why i’m so hard on her.

12. What character do you like the least? echo. groan every time i see her face.

13. Describe your delinquent outfit. (Would you wear something like Murphy’s jacket with the spikey red shoulder patch or have a trademark like Jasper’s goggles? Be creative, yet practical) oh i love this one! uhm. probably like jeans, but ripped. black ankle boots. a shirt -- something with cleavage definitely, i think a regular tanktop. a dark jacket. idk. i would always have a gun/knife holster on my thigh i think. (ok i wanna look like lara croft). and i would enjoy if i could wear any shade of lipstick. i would want that to be my trademark. i find berries or sumn in the first ep.

14. Favorite type of mutant animal? that monster spying on lincoln and octavia in the woods. wonder what happened to that one.

15. What would your job be on the Ark? something medical for sure.

16. Would you have willingly pumped Ontari’s heart if Abby asked? yeah no biggie im (almost) a nurse. ive resucitated ppl before.

17. If Lexa wasn’t Heda, but she was still alive, then who would have made the best commander? dont kill me, but definitely luna. i know she didnt want it, but she wouldve been the best fit.

18. How would you act if you ate the hallucinogenic nuts like Jasper and Monty? probably cry all night or get super giggly. either or.

19. How would you have dealt with Charlotte’s crime? A more John Murphy approach or Bellamy Blake approach? i dont believe in the dead penalty in modern times, but like she was old enough to know killing people aint right. especially not for revenge on an innocent person. so i say the murphy method.

20. Who should have been the Chancellor, if anyone? they shouldnt have one person in charge, but if they have to, i’d say clarke. fuck them old ppl tbh.

21. Would you have been on Pike’s side like Bellamy or on Kane’s side? Or Clarke in Polis? i think bellamy went through some personal stuff that made him side with pike. if i were in the situation myself i think i would be digusted by pike’s xenophobia, but if they said there was an army outside waiting to kill us. maybe i would buy it? idk. depends on if i have all the info i guess.

22. Mount Weather had a lot of modern commodities. (example: Maya’s iPod) What is the one thing you would snatch while there? MUSIC PLAYER

23. What would your Grounder tattoos look like? Hairstyle? War paint? war paint on my lips!!! and i’d wing the shit out of my eyes too. as for a hairstyle probably like a lob, sides braided back. i dont like my hair up so mostly just keep it down. tattoos? idk if we’re all dying anyway, i’d say fuck it and do a whole sleeve of flowers.

24. Favorite quote? can i be a soft bellarke bitch for a sec and present clarke’s entire speech in 4x13 or ‘if i’m on that list, you’re on that list’. that or “who we are, and who we need to be to survive are very different things”

25. If all of the characters were in the Hunger Games, who would have the best shot at winning? clarke or murphy. team cockroach bitch. is this the time i plug my own thg fics? 

26. Least favorite ship? Favorite canon ship? Favorite non-canon ship? NOT INCLUDING CL OR BC OR BE

if i cant say bellarke its gonna be a short list. canon? zaven and memori. non-canon: sea mechanic, wellven, murphamy. 

27. A song that should be included in the next season? If there had to be another guest star like Shawn Mendes on the show, who would you want to make a cameo? BIG DREAM would be taylor swift but i dont think her current era fits with the show (plus its the cw....like they gonna give up half of their yearly budget for a three sec cameo?). i think aly & aj’s new music slaps and they’d fit in the whole new earth aesthetic. 

28. What would you do if you were stuck in the bunker with Murphy for all that time? write blarke fanfic with him probably. 

29. You’re an extra that gets killed off. How do you die? i’d wanna die protecting bellamy lmao. just a full on beheading or something.

30. A character you’d like to learn more about and get flashbacks of? literally no one. they’re a season too late. ok. maybe shaw. but thats over now i guess :/

31. A character you’d bang? bellamy, clarke, raven, shaw, emori, harper, monty, wells, diyoza. its a cw show. come on.

32. Would you stay in the Bunker? Go up to Space? Or live on your own in Eden?  if i was on the show i’d go up in space to prevent becho. if you have me the choice now, i’d stay in eden.

33. In the Bunker, would you follow Octavia? What would you do to pass the time underground?  i’d definitely not eat human meat. death it is i think.

34. What crime would you commit in the Bunker that lands you in the fighting pits? tryna murder blodreina for making me eat humans.

35. Up in Space, who would you bond with first? Who would be the most difficult for you to get along with? i’d bond with monty over biology i think. i would have a hard time getting a long with murphy or echo. i love the first as a character but irl i’d kick his ass. 

36. How long do you think you would last on Earth by yourself? if i have eden? as long as i have until the next apocalypse.

37. When the Eligius ship lands what do you do? try and blow them up while they sleep or sumn? or idk. if i was alone, maybe just better to make friends.

38. Favorite Eligius character? Least favorite? diyoza+, mccreary-.

39. Would you Spacewalk? i would probably? i’d be terrified but what a way to go?

40. Would you prefer to eat Windshield Bugs, Space Algae, or Bunker Meat? ive accidentally gotten bugs in my mouth before and like i said im not eating humans, so -- space algae.

41. Would you start a war for the last spot of green on earth? What would your solution be to avoid it? war didn’t help anyone. in the end, no one got to live on earth. i’d try and compromise i guess. or once they trust me, try and kill the eligius ppl in their sleep anyway.

42. Would you rather dig out flesh-eating worms or stick thumb drives into bullet holes? stick the thumb drives into bullet holes. i have fear of ‘alive’ things being in or on the human body. 

43. Are you willing to poison your sister for the Traitor Who You Love? What would you do to stop Octavia? for clarke? yeah. if she was as loco as octavia, definitely. or i’d kidnap her and say she killed me.

44. Would you go to sleep in cryo or stay awake like Marper? sleep, definitely.

45. Who are you waking up first to explore the new planet? bellamy, clarke, raven, emori, shaw, murphy, jordan and since somebody usually dies on these explorations, i’d allow echo to come.

[theorichardspota]

Auto-portrait

All I want to do is eat. I want to turn eggs into a hill of flour slowly until they become one solid object. A ball of dough smooth and elastic as skin. In Boulder, Colorado I stirred the eggs into a pile of semolina flour on the counter of a friend’s friend’s father’s kitchen. We spent three days making the Bolognese. I had just come back from Italy and thought I knew a secret. In Italy, I was falling in love. This is important to me and embarrassing to say. I got too drunk at the dinner party to remember what the Bolognese tasted like and missed my flight in the morning. I want Rae to ferment pizza dough for three days. I want to watch Nathan stretch it into a perfect circle and slide it off cornmeal into the oven. I imagine young Nathan in his father’s pizza shop pilfering chicken fingers with the perfect breading. How can you know anyone if you don’t know how they came of age? I loved my home in South Deerfield so much I got it tattooed on my thigh. I wish I could visit that ghost of myself for dinner. They were such a good host. I want to own a farm large enough to have peacocks roaming the gardens, just to own something beautiful and lively. Everyone I’ve ever loved flew to Blacksburg, Virginia this summer, and James stole us 6 whole chickens from Kroger and cut them into 8 parts and he spent the night frying them so we could all eat after we had swam in the river. And now James might go back to jail because of a DUI but he just got his passport back 7 years after his felony charges and I am not worried about James going to jail or not coming back to Blacksburg because of parole. I am scared of him dying because he is an addict and he works in a kitchen so he started using again and my friends are all alcoholics and I am so afraid of them dying, one after another. I want James to live on my farm with Bessie and I and our two peacocks and my best friend Teagan who is dating James, what luck, what absolute luck. I am afraid of not being able to fall asleep. My mom believes it is because she would try to rock me to sleep as an infant while having panic attacks. She says it was because my father was a terrible father. I believe her. I want the kitchen from The Haunting of Bly Manor where I will carry in tomatoes, peppers, a slaughtered chicken. Teagan will help me make dinner. I want to grow my own food because I am cheap and I think it tastes better, and because I am impulsive and I never want to have to pay for it. This is also how I learned to steal. I am afraid of ghosts. I am obsessed with death. I think I can make peace with death and thus make peace with grief. It is why I cook so much meat. If I can love a rabbit well enough after death, I can let Ben be dead. Often after I cook the animal, I won’t eat it. Having the friends I have has made me obsessed with Pete Davidson and Mac Miller. I am in love with tomatoes. I worry there is not enough love in the world to satiate me. I think of myself as a cormorant. My anxiety has begun to bubble up in new horrible ways. Contamination fears, conspiratorial thinking, fear of leaving the house; I need to shake the bed sheets out every night before I get in. This week it manifested as a rash. I am carrying so much shame. I don’t get catcalled anymore. In first grade when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I said “scuba diver.” I still think that is true, but I have asthma. Instead, I take my snorkel to the New River and I chase fish around the river bed and hope I don’t see too many bones. I always see bones but I always say “that is just a deer.” I studied to be an herbalist at an apothecary. I once lived with a conspiracy theorist in southern France and dug her a pool. I spent almost a month riding horses through the Rocky Mountains. I believe grief makes clear the cyclical ever happening nature of time. I think the 4th dimension holds the secrets of ghosts. I am in love with the Greek myth of Aristaeus. I would love to tell it to you. I value play above all else. I thought I would have more tattoos by this age.

[puckinginsane]

Take the Bull by the Horns

Wattpad

ao3

When I first walked into the bar and saw the mechanical bull I immediately turned around to leave. I was not about to be caught up in some Texas cliche. My friend, Stella, grabbed me by the hand and pulled me back. “It will be worth it. Trust me,” she promised as I followed her back to the wooden fence barricade that surrounds the bull. I quickly learned that she wasn’t wrong. It was worth it. Guy after guy tried their shot at the bull, each seeming to become more attractive than the last. A few girls have tried but it’s mostly guys.

“You can thank me later,” Stella boasts as the latest victim takes off his shirt and whirls it around his head after being thrown to the mat within seconds. His attempt was pathetic but his body more than makes up for it. He looks right at Stella and winks at her. She waves back.

“Don’t you dare ditch me, especially not for that guy. He probably lasts just as long in bed.”

She laughs. “You’re terrible. He’s hot. If he comes over here I’m not pushing him away.”

I scoff. “Fine, but might I remind you that you’re the one that dragged me here?”

“You’ll find your own mechanical cowboy.”

“You know I could easily find myself a real cowboy if that’s what I was looking for.”

“Loosen up and have some fun for once in your life. Get on up there and show ‘em how it’s done.”

“There’s no way I’m getting on that thing.”

“We just have to get a few drinks in you.”

“Speaking of drinks, can I buy you one?” A voice asks. Stella and I both turn around to see the shirtless guy from the bull standing there. His shirt is back on of course, which is a shame.

“Only if you buy one for my friend too,” she replies as she twirls her hair around her finger. Sometimes I swear she’s not real and just a character out of every cheesy rom com, but she’s real and my best friend.

He looks at me and smiles, then back at her. “My pleasure.”

We tell him our drink orders and he scurries off to the bar like an eager puppy, happy to please.

“If you don’t find anyone, seems like he’s game for both of us,” she suggests.

“You’re insane.”

“It would be a night he’d never forget.”

“Stella, no.” This is not the first time she has brought up having a threesome with some guy at the bar and I can never tell if she actually means it or not. I’m always scared to ask.

The next person is called to the bull and I turn around to watch. My eyes are immediately drawn to his broad shoulders and defined back muscles that can be seen through his form fitting shirt. His muscles flex as he pulls himself onto the bull. The next thing I notice are his full tattoo sleeves and the huge biceps those sleeves wrap around. His thick thighs squeeze on the side of the bull and I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open in awe of the specimen before me. My eyes make their way up his body. Flat stomach, perfect chest, nicely groomed beard, and that smile. Not only is that the most perfect smile I have ever seen, he’s got these double dimples that I could just get lost in. His eyes crinkle when he smiles and his curly brown hair is begging to be released from the backwards snapback that is keeping it prisoner.

My trance is broken when a glass is shoved in my face. “Earth to Bambi.” I quickly divert my attention to Stella. “Your drink.”

I take the drink and thank her new friend for it before going back to watching this god on the bull. “Who is that?” I ask.

“That is bad news. Don’t even think about it.”

“Too late.” The bull jerks to one side, spins, and jerks to the other. His hat flies off of his head and lands at my feet. His hair sways in the air and falls in front of his face. His giggles can somehow be heard over the loud music and talking. “Way too late.” I find myself smiling and laughing along with his infectious smile and laugh.

“Look away, I’m serious,” Stella demands. “He’s not your type.”

“He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. How is that not my type?” I bend down and pick up his hat. He’ll have to come over to me for it after he falls off.

“Put the hat down.”

“How is he not my type?”

“He’s a fuckboy. King of the fuckboys in fact.” She smacks the hat out of my hand. “And don’t touch that. You don’t know where it’s been.”

“Oh stop. You’re being ridiculous.” I pick the hat back up. I look just in time for him to get thrown from the bull and to the mat. “He did pretty well.”

“We’re going to a table. Come join us when you’re finished drooling.”

They walk away but I’m too busy watching this guy look around for his hat to care too much. He finally looks in my direction and I hold the hat up for him to see that I have it. He smiles, which makes my heart skip a beat, and starts walking towards me.

The closer he gets, the faster my heart beats. He is so sexy. He walks with this confidence that tells everyone that he knows it too. He hasn’t broken eye contact with me yet. I don’t think I’ve ever talked to someone this good looking before. I’m not sure what I’m even going to say. I take a deep breath right before he gets to me.

He holds his hand out for the hat and I give it to him. “Thank you,” he says in his deep, soothing voice. And I thought he couldn’t get more perfect, I was wrong. He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back on his head and out of his face, before putting the snapback on backwards.

“You’re welcome.” I can’t believe I was actually able to get the words out of my mouth. “You did pretty well up there. You must be strong.” I am immediately mentally kicking myself for saying that last part. I do not know how to play it cool.

He blushes. “Yeah I guess.” He looks around then back at me. “It looks like it’s your turn.”

“I don’t think so,” I protest.

“I do. Your turn. Get over there.”

“No, no, no. Not me.”

“She wants to go next!” He shouts over to the attendant working the bull.

“I do not,” I say to him. “I do not!” I shout to the attendant.

“Don’t be scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

“You seem scared.”

“Well I’m not.”

“Then get up there. I’ll hold your drink.”

I down the rest of my drink. “No need.”

“Ok then. You gonna get up there?”

“Yeah.”

He smirks. “Cool. Let’s see what you got.”

I walk over to the bull and the attendant offers to help me up into it, which I decline. I pull myself up onto the bull and scan the room for Stella. I wouldn’t want her to miss this. I finally spot her. “Stella!” I yell to her. She looks around the room for me. “Over here!”

She finally sees where I am and jumps off of the bar stool and drags her new friend over to the fence to get a closer look “Yeah, Bambi, woo! Show these guys how to ride that bull!”

I shake my head and blush. She is always my loudest cheerleader. I look over to mister snapback, who I don’t think has taken his eyes off of me. He smiles, which immediately makes me melt.

“Are you ready?” The attendant asks me. I nod yes.

The bull starts spinning slowly and bucks to one side. It doesn’t faze me at all. I could do this in my sleep. It spins around a few times before bucking from side to side, up and down. I’m not even close to falling. These mechanical bulls are never a challenge to me, which is why I never go on them. People don’t want to see people conquer it, they want to see them get thrown.

“Is this all this thing has?” I say, my cockiness coming out.

It starts going a little faster, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. More and more people have started to gather around to watch. I fake a yawn and pat my mouth a few times to show boredom, which gets a laugh from the crowd.

“She’s cheating!” Mister snapback yells.

“You think I’m cheating?”

“Yeah!”

I let go. “What if I do it with no hands?” I squeeze my thighs against the saddle in anticipation of a buck. I am able to hold on when it does. Everyone in the bar erupts in cheers. The bull bucks forward a few times and I rock my hips with the rhythm. I am not getting thrown from a fake bull.

“Show off!” Stella yells. “I love you!”

I blow her a kiss. She is now taking video of me with her phone. The bull spins back around to face mister snapback, who is watching me with his mouth open. I hold onto the bull with my thighs as it bucks hard to one side. That one almost threw me. I maintain eye contact with him as I once again move my hips to the rhythm of the bull. I can see him mouth “fuck.”

The bull slows down and eventually comes to a stop. I hop down off of it and once again everyone in the bar cheers. I take a bow before walking over to where mister snapback is standing.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he says.

“I doubt that.”

“Not bad, Bambi.”

“Oh. That’s not my name.”

“Sorry, it’s just that she…”

“She calls me that. It’s just a nickname.”

“Can I call you that?”

“Only if you tell me your name.”

“Since we are going by nicknames Seggy or Segs. Up to you.”

“Seggy it is.”

He smiles. “Do you want to sit and talk?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

We walk over to a table and sit down across from each other. He orders us each a drink, which are promptly delivered.

“Why Bambi?” He asks.

“Because I’m quiet and shy, nervous a lot. She always calls me her baby deer.”

“Quiet and shy, eh? That’s not what I saw up there.”

“We all have different sides to us.”

“Do you have a bad side?”

“I might.” He smirks. “Speaking of bad sides, my friend tells me you’re bad news.”

“Your friend might be right. What’s the fun in being good all of the time anyway?”

“Does that line usually work for you?”

“Most of the time, yeah.”

I shake my head. “Girls make things way too easy for you.”

“I’m not complaining about that.”

“Wouldn’t you rather have a challenge?”

“Depends. Luckily I don’t have to work that hard with you. I saw the way you were looking at me.”

“Just because you’re attractive, doesn’t mean I’m easy.”

“At least I know you’re interested.”

I smirk. “Maybe.”

“Maybe? Ok, sure. If that’s what you have to tell yourself to make you feel better.”

“You don’t get told no often, do you?”

“Not really.”

“I see.”

“Enough about me. I gotta ask, do you ride mechanical bulls for a living or something? Because that was…wow.”

“Not mechanical bulls.”

“Huh?”

“I’m a bull rider.”

“Oh, so like real bulls.”

“Real bulls exactly.”

“So you were cheating.”

“You insisted I go up there. Not cheating.”

“A bull rider, eh? I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Most guys are either intimidated by it or find it sexy.”

“I guess I’m feeling a little bit of both.”

“You’re not running away, though.”

“Nope.”

“Ok good.”

“See? Interested.”

I blush. I guess he’s got me there. “I really don’t want to give you the satisfaction.”

“Don’t you want satisfaction, though?”

“Yes I do.”

He smiles. “That wasn’t so hard to admit, was it?”

“I’m not easy, though.”

“You’ve said that.”

“It’s true.”

“We’ll see where the conversation takes us.”

What have I gotten myself into? I’m not used to going toe to toe with someone this sure of himself. I don’t want to be another notch on his belt but my defenses are cracking. The most attractive man I’ve ever see wants me, don’t I owe it to myself to let go for one night? I’m not sure how long I can fight it. My body is aching to be touched by him.

“You’re awfully quiet. Want another drink?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He orders the both of us more drinks. “Don’t think too much. That’s when things get messy. We are just having a good time, right?”

“Right.”

“I know what will help loosen you up.”

“What?”

He holds my face in his hands and kisses me, which surprises me, I wasn’t expecting that. I’m a little shocked at first but he doesn’t pull away so I kiss him back. It’s a little aggressive, especially for a first kiss, a first kiss with someone he doesn’t know, but he soon follows my lead and tones it down a bit. We finally pull apart, even though I don’t want to. I do feel a lot more at ease. Damn him.

I feel giddy and can’t fight the stupid smile forming on my face. He smirks. “Better?”

“Much better.”

“You really are Bambi, aren’t you?”

“What makes you say that?”

“I only just kissed you and you’re blushing.”

“Oh no.” I cover my cheeks with my hands.

“Don’t.” He grabs my hands and moves them down. “It’s cute.”

Ugh. Cute. I don’t want him to think I’m cute. I want him to think I’m hot, sexy, irresistible. I’m not going to get anywhere with a guy like him if all he thinks is that I’m cute.

“Do you want to dance?” I ask. I need to show him that I can be more than just cute.

He smiles. “Sure.”

I hop down from the bar stool, take his hand in mine, and start walking away from the table. He follows behind me. I look back at him and smile and he raises an eyebrow wondering what is going on in my head. I usually don’t do things like this, but I can’t let him know that. I want to dance with him. I want to be so close to him that you can’t tell where he starts and I begin. I want to get lost in the music and the movement of his body against mine. I just want him.

He starts out dancing close to me, but not as close as I’d like him to be. He’s not touching me. It’s almost like he’s scared to, like he’d break me if he did. For the first time tonight he seems to be a bit timid. I dance closer to him and cup the back of his head and bring it down so I can say something in his ear. “You can touch me, you know.” Somehow the roles have be reversed. I grab his hands and place them on my hips. He looks up into my eyes and smiles. That’s all the invitation he needed, I guess, because he pulls me up against him and grinds up against me.

I wrap one arm around his neck and hold the back of his head while place my other hand on his chest. I wish he wasn’t wearing the snapback. I would be running my fingers through his hair right now, instead I lightly massage the back of his neck. He moves his hands up to my waist and pulls me even closer towards him. He leans in like he’s going to kiss me but he lingers there, looking down at my lips, he’s close close I can just about taste him.

His hands make their way down my back and rest again on my hips for only a second before caressing my butt and eventually grabbing onto it and pulling me up against him. I want him to kiss me but the anticipation is intoxicating in itself. I run my tongue slowly over my top lip which makes him look up into my eyes. We have this intense staring contest as we continue to dance. I’m lost, so lost in his world, and I never want to be found.

Why hasn’t he kissed me yet? Is he waiting for me to make the first move or is this some kind of game? Whatever it is I’m not sure how much longer I can stand it. His eyes are like fire and my heart beats faster and faster the longer I look into them. I can’t hold myself back any longer. I wrap my other arm around his neck and kiss him. He holds onto my ass tighter as he kisses me back. I nibble his bottom lip and we pull away from each other breathless.

He holds onto the back of my head and says into my ear, “I can’t get the image of you riding that bull out of my head.”

“Stella took video of it. I can send it to you so you can always have it.”

“I was thinking of replacing that image with a different one.”

“Oh yeah?” I smile.

He smiles back. “You want to get out of here?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”