#also if you couldn’t tell I’m obsessed with cloud collars at the moment

[royaltea000]

Qitian dasheng and other outfit concept sketches

[sashi-ya]

Vampire!Law or werewolf!Law?

Hi, hi! I used to be obsessed with vampires back then. Never seen/read Twilight, though. But still. I didn't know if you wanted something NSFW, so I included some, not that explicit just in case. I hope you like it ♥. I loved the prompt so I'd probably be extending this story, perhaps with more OS someday!.

Vampire! Law x Reader.

Countryside town AU. No gender description. Everybody is 18+. No spoilers. TW: Blood. Slightly hurted animals. Kind of blood play. Soft NSFW. WC: 4.4K AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31552169

Drawing done using a base from: deviantart.com/shadow-bases

It’s a cold night, puffs of steamy air coming out from your mouth as you quickly walk to your parents’ house. The moon shines in between foggy clouds that cover a dark sky. You regret the moment when you accepted going out, plus everything around seems a little threatening. You are used to the city you were living in until now, and somehow forgot the feeling of living in your hometown. But, your old friends wanted to see you, and you couldn’t just say no.

The old town you were born in seemed to have never evolved. Since the day you left your parents’ house and moved to campus in the big city, the town has preserved its own style, the same houses, the same old shops.

Reddish dried leaves crunches under your feet, and some crickets sing in the dark. You grab your phone just to check the hour. 00:00. You are a little bit tired; you’ve been driving the whole day to get there, but even though you were exhausted your old friends insisted on celebrating your comeback to the nest.

You are about to get to your house, when a sudden noise creeps the hell out of you, but you realize it’s just a cute white cat. “Hello kitty, you scared me!”, you say as the little cat comes purring. You crouch and pet it, after all it was too cute to not play with it.

“Bepo… Bepo… where the hell are you?”, you hear a man’s voice that comes closer. “Are you Bepo?”, you ask the little kitten and try to see what his collar says. “Bepo!!, there you are!”, a young man says with a gravelly voice.

“Oh, excuse me!”, you tell him as he comes closer to grab the white ball of fur. “Oh no, it's ok! I was about to go to sleep and I was looking for him. Did you scare her/him/they, Bepo?”, he says, approaching you, bending down and petting the kitten’s head.

The clouds move allowing the moonshine to bathe his face, revealing refined face features. A straight but snub nose, white pale skin, black spiky hair that ends up with sideburns, a goatee, and intense grey eyes with very dark circles were his main features. He was the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life so you stay caught on his face for a little while.

A cold breeze blows your hair and somehow a chill runs through your spine, as you hear the sound of wind chimes dancing along on the front porch of a wooden house. “Do you live in this town? I haven’t seen you before… I mean, I’m kind of new into town though…” he says to you with a smile while lifting the cat on his slender, pale and tattooed hands.

You stand up and say “Oh, uhm...I’ve recently graduated so I came back to my parents’ house to work with them, I used to live here, though”. “Oh, I see! Nice to meet you! My name is Law”, he says while extending his hand to you. You hesitate for a second, but then you say “Nice to meet you Law, I’m Y/n”. You shake hands, and realize how cold his skin is, almost as if he was somehow… dead?.

The encounter is disrupted by your dad, who got worried of you not arriving at home and opened the door to see if you were coming. “Y/n! there you are!. Oh, hello young man!, How are you?”, your father says from the front porch. “Goodnight Mr. Y/sn, everything alright! What about you and your wife?” Law says waving at your dad. “She’s inside a little worried for her pancake, that I see you’ve already met!”, your dad tells him while laughing. “Dad… I’m ok, go inside, I’ll be there in a minute”, you say to him, embarrassed.

“Nice to meet you, Law. Have a good night”, you say petting the little cat. “Have a goodnight too, Y/n-ya. I hope I could see you again”, Law says, giving you a side smirk. You nod and walk away.

You flop onto your bed, tired, exhausted. You close your eyes, total darkness until… his eyes… Those crystal grey eyes are the only thing you can see, and then they turn to yellow. And you wake up with a big gasp to the smell of blood.

“What the fuck was that?”, you say, agitated. An orangey sun ray filters from the windows of your teenage years room and hits directly your face. You block the sun with your arm realizing soon it was already morning and today you start working on your old family farm as a vet.

“Good morning little pancakes!!”, your dad greets you, as well as your little brother. Your mum is cooking those delicious breakfasts you used to have when you were younger and you sit on the table, pleased and filled with your family’s love.

The day passes with you meeting all the animals on the farm, you even have to take care of a wounded horse. “Don’t worry Violet, it’s just a little blood, but your leg will be fine”, you say to a black spotted mare that has been jumping on the field and somehow hurt his leg.

At noon, your childhood best friend sends a text telling you that tonight you two should go to “Shambles Bar'' - the one and only bar that has ever been there since you were born - to have fun since it’s Friday. You agree, not because you were a fan of partying but because you missed those old days before you left for uni.

“Leeeeet’s go party like the old timeeees, babeee” your best friend shouts at you while jumping on your bed. “hahaha stop it, you are going to break the bed!!”. You both laugh, get ready and head out.

You pass next to Law’s house and try to see if he is at home, but it seems as if no one is there. “Oi, do you know Law?” you say pointing with your thumb to his house. “Law?”, your best friend asks confused, and continues, “You mean the vampire guy who lives there?, yeah. Why?”. “Vampire guy? what do you mean?” you ask, half confused, half curious. “Haha, the guys call him like this. I mean, have you seen how pale he is? and those dark circles? He looks like he is dead. Plus no one has seen him during the daytime. Ever. But how do you know him?”, she tells you. “Oh, yesterday, his cat, Bepo, came to me. He was looking for the kitty and we happened to talk”, you tell her with a tone that tries to downplay the topic. “Oh, I see. To be honest I don’t even know what he does for a living so I don’t have any more info. Maybe Luffy or Zoro know him, you can ask them tonight”, she says. “Yeah, maybe”, you say and change the topic.

A few drinks after and you and your friends are already dancing to the sound of country music and the humble light system of the old bar, when the same image of those eyes of your dreams flashes before your eyes and a sudden smell of blood hits your nose. You stand still for a moment, scared. “Babe, what is it?”, asks Nami, one of your friends there. “Uh.. n- nothing”, you say confused and keep dancing.

A few seconds later, someone is touching your shoulder from behind. Your friends stand still for a moment with a subtle scared expression, but the touch of that hand felt warm for you, even as if some type of power was running through all of your body.

“Y/n-ya?”, a well-known voice calls you, and you turn around. There he was, Law, “the vampire guy” as your friends call him. “L-Law?”, you say slowly smiling when you see his pale face. “What a coincidence, huh?. I mean the town is not that big…”, he says, and you finish his sentence with a “yeah, and this is the only bar…”. You both laugh and for some seconds your eyes are fixed onto each other’s.

“Oi, Torao! you wanna drink with us?” says Zoro, inviting Law to our table. “Yeah, thanks, Zoro-ya”, he tells him. You all sit and ask waiter Beca to bring you another round of drinks. Law sits next to you.

Sanji, another friend of yours, asks you “You two already know each other?”. “Kind of”, you say laughing a little blushed. “Y/n-ya met Bepo, first!” Law tells your blond friend, laughing.

An old song you and your friends used to dance as “your song” starts playing on the jukebox and you run to the dance floor. You can’t help but gaze at where Law is just to see if he is watching you dance. And he does, he is looking at you, with a smile on his pretty face. Your cheeks turn to red, but you are way grown up to act like a teenager, and decide to invite him to dance. You are driven somehow to him, you don’t really know why, but you are.

“Law, do you wanna dance?”, you tell him, extending your arm as you were calling him to the dancefloor. “You too guys, come here!!” Nami shouts to your friends.

Law stands up and walks to you. Smiling, he incorporates to the circle and starts dancing. He doesn’t dance well, but you just don’t care, you either after all.

A slow song starts to play, romantic also. Robin, another of your friends, tells you that the song is called “I Hear a Symphony”, and that Law should dance with you. You look at her, widening your eyes trying to tell her to stop, but Law grabs one of your hands and tells you “May I have this dance?”. You giggle a little, I mean why is he talking like a prince?, but then you just let yourself go and accept his offer.

The pale guy puts his other hand over your waist and you two start dancing to that pretty melody. For a moment you feel as if you were dancing into a castle, like in another century.

Interlocking your eyes, you start to think that coming back to your hometown wasn’t that bad and somehow you feel as if everything around you disappears. For an instant you believe to see his eyes change colors, from that crystalline grey to an intense brilliant yellowish color, but this time you don’t get scared. You feel attracted more and more to him, as if something invisible was pulling you towards him.

The touch of his hands feels cold, really cold, just like the first time… “is it because it’s almost winter?”, you think. Law is looking at your lips, neck, and something on his expression shows as if he was willing to devour you. And frankly, you too… you lost yourself looking at his mouth, he has it barely open. He has prominent canines that show through the little space in between his lips, and you remember your friend's words “the vampire guy” ...

The slow music is over, and now pop blasts on the bar. The couples part and you all come back to your table. It’s already 2 am, and you all feel exhausted from working all day - except Law, who seems to be really energetic -.

“Well, my dear friends, I’m not a teenager anymore, I think I’m coming back home now”, you inform your friends, to which some of them reply protesting and the others supporting the motion.

“If you want to, I can walk you home. I mean, we are neighbors”, tells you Law. Something inside you says “oh no darling, you are going fast”, but your mouth simply slips a “Oh, thank you, that’d be fine”.

You grab your coat, and head to the door followed by your deadly crush. None of you two say a word the first few steps. Tonight, is even colder than yesterday, but your cheeks are so red, full of blood that you don’t seem to notice the freezing breeze. “He is going to think I’m desperate, like he is the hottest guy I’ve ever met, but still… calm down Y/N”, you say to yourself, while walking thinking about what to say to break the ice.

“The moon looks pretty tonight, doesn’t it?”, he says to you, timidly. You look up to the sky and contemplate a big full moon with reddish tints on its hue. “Oh, I think it is the eclipse they were talking about on tv last night… the “red moon” ...”, you say, but got interrupted by Law, “Yeah, a “blood moon””. The way he said that, felt almost as threatening, but you look at him, and there he is, smiling at you with a friendly face.

You remember you still don’t know shit about him, so you ask him, “Oi, Nami told me you moved into town a few months ago, what did it bring you here?”. He stops for a moment, looking at the ground, but then sketching out a fake smile he tells you, “I got bored from the city, so I moved into the countryside… but to be honest I came mainly because I heard that pumpkin pies here are delicious”. You look at him, because that sounded like a terrible lie but you chose to believe it and when you were about to ask him about what he does for a living, he interrupts you, “Well, it looks like we are already home”. “Oh, yeah, I haven’t noticed, ha-ha”, you say, a little bit annoyed because you wanted to ask him more questions, but mainly sad because the walk was over.

“So… goodnight”, you say to him while fidgeting back and forth with your feet. “Goodnight…” he says. You are both facing each other, and you nor Law are moving. He got his eyes fixed on your lips, and you wish he would just kiss you.

Slowly, little by little, Law approaches his face to yours, closer, closer, until... he stops himself violently. You get scared, but you don’t move a single muscle. “Why… why you… why do you smell like blood?”, he says gasping.

“W-What?”, you ask him confusedly backing up. “You, you smell like blood… have you… your arm…”, he says, snatching your forearm. Suddenly, you remember this morning, you cured Violet, and some blood got spilled on your forearm but you washed the area and took a bath right before going out. “How did you know?”, you ask him.

He remains silent, trying to calm down. “I’m… I’m sorry I have a really sensitive nose”, he says and continues, “Why don’t you go to sleep, we can talk tomorrow, it’s pretty late now. Goodnight”. He says and runs to his house.

You are left there, and for a moment you just can’t process what just happened. “What the fuck, Law?”, you think. A cold shiver on your back announces to you, you should go back home and go to bed. There was no point in staying there.

You snuggle on your bed, still trying to understand but the exhaustion your body felt wins and you fall asleep. Again, those eyes, the smell of blood, the cold touch, you can see, smell, feel it all… “Y/n! pancake!!! wake up!!!”, you hear your dad shouting at you. You open your eyes violently, “What??? What happened dad??”. “The cattle, some… something attacked them…”, he says horrified. “What?” ...

You get dressed and run to the cowshed. A poor steer lays there, he has been attacked by some kind of animal… with fangs, and the poor thing looks like he has lost some blood. Luckily he was still alive, so you helped him instantly.

“Pancakes, what are those wounds on the neck the animal has?”, your dad asks. “To be honest, dad, I don’t know. It looks like some kind of animal has bitten the steer, but didn’t eat it… it looks like… has drunk some of his blood…”, you say to your dad astonished even more than him. “But, what kind of animal could do such a thing?”, he inquiries. “The only ones that could do it are the Desmodontinae, or vampire bats… but they are not typical in this hemisphere…

The incident quickly spread and everyone in town was talking about it. Luckily the animal recovered in a few hours, as the wounds weren’t that bad.

You can’t stop thinking about Law, and quickly you forget about the animal incident. He has been on your mind all morning, “why did he run away?” ... That afternoon you decide to go see if Law is at home, you really need to ask him about last night… Plus, deep inside you are a little bit annoyed, you wanted him to kiss you…

You ring the bell of the wooden house, but there is no answer. Since the blinds were all shut down, you think that he must be at work.

Suddenly little Bepo appears meowing from the backyard. “Hi Bepo!! Is your daddy at home?”, you ask the little cat while ruffling his head fur. The cat rubs on your leg and then walks back to the backyard, so you decide to follow him.

If Law isn’t at home you could perhaps take a look at his patio. You are curious and he represented a mystery you wanted to decode, really bad.

At first you think you’ve seen someone looking at you from one of the windows of the house, but you thought it was just your imagination. You trespass private property.

The patio showed nothing but a bucket on one of the corners, next to an old mossy bench. You follow Bepo, and as you are approaching the metal pail that has something red inside, your phone rings. “God damn!!”, you jump scared. The phone screen shows an unknown number calling, “That’s weird”, you say and pick up. “Hello?”, “Hi!, Y/n-ya, it’s me, Law. I’m sorry to bother you but I wanted to apologize about last night”. Law… LAW! You realize you are still in his yard so you quickly leave the place and start walking home. “Don’t worry, I guess it must be a little intimidating to be with someone that smells like… blood”, you say. A silence takes the call but then Law simply laughs -again, a fake laugh- and tells you that he will call you later to compensate you for last night. You agree and say goodbye.

You close the door behind you leaning over it, gasping. Your heart races. What if he knows you’ve been stalking his house…? “I’m such a creep”, you say to yourself, and go to your room.

You spend the afternoon in your backyard with your mum, October is about to end so the fall season is at its peak. Maple leaves fall from a big tree next to your porch and garnish the patio with its coppery colors.

That night, your parents and brother were invited to a party in the next town, so they won’t come back until the next day. After a hot meal you go to sleep. You haven’t received any messages from Law yet and you wonder if you should text him or just let him do it first. You finally decide that he should be texting you first, so you snuggle in bed and close your eyes. For the third night in a row, you dream with those eyes, with the smell of blood. But, this time it's so intense that you awake instantly in the middle of the night. “Again?”, you say while brushing your hand over your eyes.

Suddenly you hear something knocking on your window… “Law?!”, you say, gasping. He mimics something similar to an “open please”. Your bed is next to the window so you are still sitting there in your pjs, so you stretch to open the window.

“What are you doing here?”, you ask him while helping him to enter. Law sits on the bed and tells you, whispering “I’m sorry, I was missing you, I really, really needed to see you… plus I told you I wanted to compensate for yesterday”.

A subtle light from the moon illuminates half of your faces, and you are speechless. “So, this is how he plans to compensate for running away last night? He is on my bed… he looks so sexy… damn”, you think. But Law starts acting innocently, and begins to ask you about the trophies on your shelves.

You tell him about how good you were at volleyball when you were in high school, and he tells you that he was too. “Where did you take that picture?”, he asks, pointing to an old photo you had pinned on the cork board. “This one?” you say, and when you grab it the side of the paper cuts your finger softly but enough to make some blood sprout. “Ouch!”, you say and you are about to take your finger to your mouth when Law grabs your wrist violently. “L-Law?!! What are you doing?”, you tell him, scared trying to unfasten from his hand. Law doesn’t speak, he starts to tremble, he is breathing fast, he is squeezing your wrist.

“Let me go, Law!” you say, but he doesn’t hear. He is somehow focused on perhaps staying still, trying to avoid something. He suddenly looks at you, his expression resembles a beast, beads of sweat run through his temples. His eyes change from grey to a bright yellow, his pupils dilate. His prominent canines are now true fangs.

Law is salivating, his veins are now visible on his forehead, you can see how his blood pumps faster. You can’t understand what the hell is going on, but for some reason you don’t scream. You concentrate on his eyes, you are able to see a remaining humanity in them, so you are far from scared.

He lets go of your hand, and kneels on the floor. Law is panting soundly; he is fighting against himself. “Calm down”, you say to him. He looks up to you, with tears in his eyes, still emitting guttural sounds. He is surprised to see how your face doesn’t show terror, nor contempt. You don’t know why, but you are even more attracted to him, dangerously attracted. You were willing to let him drink your blood if he wanted to…

With a smirk on your face, you say to him, “Blood is what you want, huh?”. He opens his mouth, and a pair of sharp fangs are shown. He shakes his head, he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he needs you. “I trust you; I know you won’t hurt me. You can drink from me”, you offer him. You know he is able to stop, and somehow everything makes sense. The poor animal this morning, he has just drunk a little blood but didn’t inflict mortal wounds to it. If he was that considerate to an animal, he will probably be with you too. -Or that is what you wanted to believe-.

He swallows, and still trembles and without any warning he pounces on you. Your back hits your bed and he's over you. He fixes his eyes on yours and asks you, "are you sure about this?". "Uhum", you nod. You are so desperate for him, that you probably consider yourself a beast more than him.

Law buries his fingers on your cheeks, and violently moves your head to the side, exposing your neck. You feel a few drops of saliva that falls into your skin from his mouth, and see how he approaches your neck.

He bites you, but even if it hurts, he is drinking your blood from your carotid so subtly, so carefully. A few seconds later, he stops. Some of your warm blood runs from the wound onto your bed.

"T-Thank you…" he says, planting a soft kiss over the little holes on your skin, caressing your hair. "You are welcome", you say, almost naturally as if being bitten by some kind of beast was something you always do.

But suddenly, you start to experience some kind of pressure on your chest, and breathing becomes difficult. Your eyes roll back, and you feel different. You look at him, trying to understand what is going on, and he simply brushes his tattooed hands over your face. "Don't worry, it's normal. You are not going to turn into… me. But, a little bit of me runs through your veins now…". He says, brushing his hand over his mouth trying to clean the mess your vital fluid has left on his lips.

You are not worried about becoming into a vampire or whatever the hell he is, but because you are experiencing a strong need to touch him, to kiss him, to fuck him. "Kiss me", you command him.

He looks at you, still settled over your body and your lips meet. His tongue invades your mouth, and you can taste the metallic rests of your blood on his mouth.

Without separating your mouths helps you take off your white -blood stained- shirt and then you do the same with him. His torso shows a big design inked on his skin, and a few wounds.

His fangs subtly scrape your skin, from your neck, to your chest, lower through your stomach. He spreads your legs with his strong arms, and softly but enough to leave some marks, bites the skin of your inner thighs. The feeling of those fangs softly ripping the first layers of your skin made yourself squirm in pleasure.

His yellow eyes fix on yours, and now he is devouring your sex. You throw your head back and surrender to his skilled tongue movements. What follows next is an extremely hard pounding session, that leaves you trembling, exhausted, sore… but satisfied.

Since then, every night you let him slowly drink you up, drop by drop, giving to him a bit of your life every time. Your eyes slowly changed colors, first a little patch of yellow, then half of your right iris…

A deadly, dangerous attraction, that won’t last forever… or maybe, if you decide to let everything aside and turn into a full vampire like him… who knows? maybe your obsessive love for him would end up changing your life… forever. ♥

[sidespromptblog]

Between the Mask: Part 2

One, Three, and End

Warning: Plenty of tears from all parties, angst, Janus has a momentary panic episode, and Logan has a mental break down. 

Summary: Roman confronts Janus about how exactly Roman should act around him, after being told by the others that being both nice and mean to him is wrong. Only to discover that after everything he’s been through, Janus isn’t the person that he portrays in front of everyone else. 

Word Count: 4303

AO3 LINK

A strange kind of vigor filled Roman’s chest as he moved towards Logan’s room, a mixture of anxiety and adrenaline danced around his heart the closer that he got. A part of him was nervous about possibly bumping into Patton or Virgil, and having to answer the inevitable questions that would eventually arise when they put two and two together about where exactly he was going and where he was coming from. With Janus’ face still fresh in his mind, Roman felt a sense of protective unease at the thought of Patton and Virgil forcing their way into the safety of his room. Because, the one thing that he certainly did not want to answer was that question and the secrets that it entailed, especially because, despite how Janus may have started to become accepted he wasn’t entirely sure if he was ready for everyone to know about the real Janus just yet.

Especially not without his consent.

And Roman would damned before he broke the fragile trust he had just now built between him and Janus, especially after everything he had initially done wrong between the two of them.

He would guard Janus’ secret like a lion.

“Logan?” Roman whispered as he stood before the simplistic blue door that lacked any distinguishing characteristics, “Logan, I… I know that you’re there.” He winced at his casual tone, given everything the last thing he should be is casual with Logan.

He couldn’t help but to cringe at the vivid memory of himself so carelessly pressing the ignorance button, when Logan had only wanted to do his best and educate Thomas, Patton, and him.

He’d been rather rude, even if he had only meant it jokingly.

A deep sigh rumbled his chest as he forced himself to take a step back from it all, moaning and whining would get him nowhere. Logan had always responded to clear and decisive wording, not emotional blithering and most certainly not sing-songy language.

He needed to speak Logan’s language rather than trying to get across with his own. “Logan, if you’re even listening to me… I want you to know that I.. I see you.” Roman softly began, so much for no emotional language. “I see how much you’ve had to sacrifice for the sake of my and Thomas’ dreams to be a reality. I see how much you’ve had to change while the rest of us gets to stay the same. And…” Here he took a deep breath, pushing down the pride that had always gotten in the way of these apologies. “I’m sorry that I didn’t see it sooner, and.. and I’m sorry for how much I’ve made you sacrifice and just how much you’ve suffered because of it. I’m sorry for hurting you, in every way that I ever have.”  

Roman hadn’t even noticed it when he had started to spew out his apologies, but the moment they started the sight in front of him clouded over with tears that he refused to let fall. The knowledge that he’d been not only a bad friend, but also a bad protector, hit him like a punch to the chest. He had never wanted to hurt anyone, but in the end it always felt like no matter what he tried to do, he had always done the opposite. It was like that with Virgil, when he had tried to protect Thomas from the bad thoughts. It had happened with Patton, when he had constantly tried to keep him happy. It had happened with Janus, and now… now it was happening with Logan all over again.

“I’m sorry too…” Came a soft but equally hoarse voice from the other side of the door, “I’m not a very good logic… no matter how hard I try to be. If I was good, then maybe-”

“No!”

Roman’s hands slapped desperately against the door before he even had a chance to think about it, letting silence reign after his outburst. Shaking his head roughly to the point that his usually pristinely styled hard flopped onto his forehead in a mess of curls, Roman pressed the palms of his hands even harder against the door. The last thing that he wanted was for Logan to blame himself for any of this, it wasn’t anybody's fault for how things turned out.

It just happened, that’s why it was called an accident.

“Logan,” He sternly whispered, forcing himself to keep his voice down. “You don’t have to change, you don’t. Not for Thomas, not for the others, and most certainly not for me. Do you understand?” He felt like he was getting dangerously close to both crying, and digging his nails into the door in an effort to get through to Logan. “You don’t have to change for us, you never will. You can say that you don’t feel emotions, but I know you Logan. I’ve seen you smile, I’ve seen you address Thomas and the others as a class, and I’ve seen you happy Logan. Happy.” Roman’s head solidly thumped against the door. “You can still be happy… if you come with me.”

A long stretch of silence drifted between the two of them, before finally…

The blue door that Roman had been unleashing all of his feelings out onto, slowly eased open, almost making the creative side lose his footing before he swiftly regained it.

There stood Logan, huddled into himself wearing his unicorn onesie that Roman hadn’t seen since the day Logan had accidentally worn it during a video with Patton. The socks he was wearing clashed visibly with the pale blue of the onesie, with a garish orange that Roman didn’t dare to comment on. His tie was gone, and his glasses were neatly folded and tucked away into the collar of the onesie letting Roman see the logical side without his glasses for the first time.

He looked tired.

Especially with his eyes rimmed with red, evidence that Roman wasn’t the only one who had been close to crying. The alternative though… hurt Roman’s heart to much to even think about. The idea that all this time, while Roman had been wallowing in self angst, Logan had been crying with not a single soul to comfort him or tell him that it would be okay.

It hurt.

It hurt a lot.

Logan’s eyes darted away, the vulnerability of the prolonged eye contact already too much for him. “Why do you want me to come with you?” He finally muttered, his fingers twitching and fiddling where his tie would usually be. “That’s usually the opposite of what you want from me.”

That was true too, in the past Roman had been almost obsessed with making Logan go away so that he could continue with his fanciful daydreams about just what Thomas could accomplish. He had never even considered how it might make Logan feel to be on the receiving end of all of that.

Roman’s arms itched to drag Logan into a hug, a hug that would wipe away every careless action he had ever done in his life. “Someone wants to see you.” He instead said, moving his hand to rest on Logan’s back, small steps after all… small steps. “He knows exactly how you feel… he’s had to change a lot of himself just to be listened to. And I think….   I think that we could all use the company if I’m being honest.”

Logan almost unconsciously leaned into the warmth of Roman’s hand. It had been more than a week since the last video, and at least a week since he had allowed himself to be around the others. Which meant none of the Patton’s hugs, none of Virgil’s awkward leans that happened to brush against him sometimes, and… no touch, in general.

“Why?”

The question left Logan’s mouth well before he was ready, but even so, despite the question he found himself walking with Roman back to wherever he had come from. He wanted to go, deep down he knew that he wanted to go. He wanted.. he wanted to finally be understood, he wanted…

To be cared about, without being laughed at and made fun of.

Roman’s smile was almost too easy and too knowing. “Because you’re my friend, and I care about you.”

That was good enough for Logan… for now.  

"What are you doing?" Logan asked as he stopped dead in his tracks almost immediately upon entering Janus' room, seeing the dishonest side surrounded by a mound of peach colored yarn. But not before turning to Roman a look of utter befuddlement and uncertainty on his face, emphasizing his question that had still gone unanswered. "What is he doing? What's going on?"

Roman had to fight to keep down the snicker that so badly wanted to burst out of him at the sight of Logan’s confusion, it was such a rare sight for the logical side to be confused by anything. So try as he may, he quickly turned his laugh into a polite cough before looking over to Janus with obviously raised eyebrows. He hadn’t thought it possible, but he looked even more comfy and cozy than when he had first seen him. The reading glasses had been pushed further up his nose, giving him a more dignified look that was utterly swept away by the strings of yarn he had all around his fingers and looped loosely around his neck.

Two needles sat firmly in his hands, waiting to be used.

“I am attempting to learn how to knit,” Janus began with a begrudgingly embarrassed look at the mess around him, “It’s a lot harder to get down than crocheting is, especially with the two needles instead of one. I might need to get a few books, or look up a few videos to learn some more about the different styles.”

The eagerness in Janus’ voice was practically palpable by now, to the point where Logan squirmed where he was standing. The urge to offload several papers worth of information building inside of him like a geyser.

The only thing stopping him was…

This wasn’t Janus.

It couldn’t be Janus.

Janus was a sly worded, silver tongued snake. Who delighted in getting his way, and would go to great lengths just to get it. So this had to some kind of trick, like when he had taken over Patton’s form just to get Thomas to consider lying to Joan. This was just a ploy to get both Roman and him to his side, and against the others just like he had done with Roman during the trial that he had been… neglected from joining. He was just showing them this to get them to trust him, there was nothing else about it. Just…

Just trickery.

The excitement on Janus’ face faltered. “You.. you didn’t tell him?” He uttered softly, his eyes quickly darting from Logan’s face to Roman’s. A look of what could only be considered fear darted over his eyes, although fear over what Logan didn’t know. “You brought him here and you didn’t even tell him what he was going to be walking into?!”

Janus’ heart thudded heavily in his chest, as a feeling being far too exposed washed over him in waves.

Logan had seen him relaxed.

Logan had seen him as he usually was.

Logan had seen him without the walls that he’d meticulously built up for years.

Logan had seen him… Logan had seen him.

What if he told the others? What if he told Thomas? Logan wasn’t exactly known for telling lies, if anything blunt honesty was usually the way that the logical side went about his business. He could tell the others, and it would be no skin off of his nose. He would tell them.

He would tell them if he got the chance to, he definitely would.

His fingers hooked into the blankets surrounding him, gathering them around his shoulders as if they were an invisibility cloak that would shield him from the others’ gaze. Scrunching it around his shoulders and over his head, Janus felt the fire in the fireplace sputtering out as the terror continued to thrum in his veins. They wouldn’t listen to him anymore, they’d laugh at him, and Thomas would go right back to the habits that he’d tried so hard to avoid before.

Everything would be useless.

Janus.. Janus would be useless.

“Janus? Janus?” Janus’ mind snapped back to the present as he felt Roman’s gentle hands rocking him where he sat. “I’m sorry for not telling him beforehand, I figured that it would be easier if I were to bring him here and we could both explain everything to him.” Roman’s heart had frozen at the sight of utter terror that had crossed Janus’ face, well before the dishonest side had tucked himself away like a terrified squirrel under his little burrow. “I’m sorry for not making that clear before, do you.. do you want us to leave?”

Roman hoped not, he desperately and dearly hoped not.

But seeing Janus’ careful ragged breaths moving the blankets, he had no idea of what the final verdict would be this time. He wasn’t the judge, and Janus’ face was hidden so he had no idea of just what he’d say. He didn’t want to have to go, he didn’t want to leave Janus after everything he’d figured out about him. After… after the future that he’d promised to try and make for him and Logan.

“Roman,” Logan’s voice softened to almost a whisper as the logical side laid his hand on the creative side’s arm. “Give him a little space, it is likely that he’s just having a panic episode. Crowding him wouldn’t be the best option for him right now. Why don’t we sit and give him some breathing room?”

Leading Roman away from the other side, Logan guided him to a comfortable looking sofa that had been pushed against the wall. Once he’d had Roman seated, Logan settled in next to him. Casting his gaze from the fireplace that was steadily retaining its light and warmth, to the bookshelves that held endless amounts of knowledge in them. It was a very nice looking place, a sort of mix between what would have been Roman’s and his room had they decided to collaborate and make one for the both of them. It was very quaint and homey, if Logan had to use words those would be the exact ones he’d use to describe it.

Warm was another one.

“You don’t have to leave,” Janus finally uttered from his place hidden under the blankets, “I was just… shocked that Roman hadn’t told you, and.. and scared that…” Movement came from his giant pile, and two mismatched eyes looked back at Logan with a fair amount of uncertainty. “I was scared that you’d tell the others, and once they’d know, they’d never take my act in front of Thomas seriously, and they’d just… laugh anytime I needed him to take care of himself. I didn’t know how you’d react and well… I still want to be taken seriously, even if I happen to like being comfortable and not sneaky or sly.Do you.. do you understand?” Janus finally asked, tugging the edge of the covers down just a little bit more, and letting his hair poke out just a little.

“Yes.”

There was no hesitation in Logan’s voice, not a single octave or syllable even hinted that he didn’t understand exactly what Janus was feeling.

He knew.

He knew all too well.

A deep sigh tinged with regret fell from Logan’s lips as he finally stood up, making his way over to Janus’ side before plopping down in front of him. “I know exactly what you mean.” He muttered, distaste coloring his voice. “But…” He added just as quickly. “I don’t understand why Roman wanted me here, I understand if he wanted to share a secret. I’ll gladly keep it, Thomas and the others won’t hear a single thing from me. But... that doesn’t appear to be the case. So what exactly is going on?”

A glance was shared between Janus and Roman, one as quick as a fish in a stream, but one that Logan caught onto nonetheless.

Janus’ fingers fiddled with the ends of his knitting needles, while Roman tapped his feet together focusing on the sensation of the carpet fibers between his toes.

“Logan…” Roman began softly, “When was the last time you smiled?”

And just like that, it felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over Logan’s head. A seven worded question, that was all it had taken to send Logan’s mind to a screeching halt well before it had even started. His nails bit into the palms of his hands, and his lungs burned from the prolonged breath that he had forgotten to take as soon as Roman had prompted the question. Whatever he had been expecting from the both of them, this.. this was not it. The muscles in his legs itched to move, to take him far away from this feelingsy conversation and questions involved in it.

“I’m leaving.” Logan croaked after a minute of pure silence.

As soon as his legs moved to make him stand he almost wobbled, but weak or not his legs could at least carry him to the door.

But apparently not fast enough, as like a snake in the grass, Janus’ hand darted out wrapping around Logan’s wrist and preventing him from taking even a single step away from the other side.

The grip wasn’t strong, and if Logan’s had really and truly tried he could have broken away from it. “Logan, please.” Janus softly intoned, attempting to keep his gaze firmly on Logan, and not on Roman coming up behind the logical side to stop him from making a break for it. “When was the last time you felt happy enough to smile? Please Logan...”

Wordlessly Logan shook his head at the request, as he pathetically attempted to tug his hand out of Janus’ grip. Even with that though, he couldn’t make himself muster the force to break it. He knew what the answer was, but he also knew that he didn’t want to answer it because that would just be one more way that he had failed to keep emotions away from his logical fallacy. It would just be one more way that he had failed at his one and only job, just another tally. But even so…

Logan’s bottom lip trembled for a second, with a truth that burdened his body and mind. “I don’t know.” The whisper came out cracked and broken, just another way to make the side that it had come from.

And with that one little utterance, his knees finally caved sending him back onto the spot he had just risen from.

“I don’t know.” He repeated again, now feeling the frustrated tears prickling at his eyes like pollen in the spring. “Why can’t I remember?!” He angrily and yet wetly huffed, as he tried with all his might to scrape away the tears from his face before they could ever begin. “I must have! I know that I must have recently! But.. but I just can’t remember!” Logan’s entire body shuddered with the force of the sob that rolled through him a hurricane decimating the coast. His hands clasped at his hair, as his arms shielded his face from the only two sides that had ever seen him cry.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried either, and try as he may… right now he couldn’t seem to stop.

He didn’t want to stop.

Here there were no stupid songs forcing him to sing out whatever emotions he was having.

Here there were no Patton’s to make puns about his feelings.

Here he didn’t have to uphold the needlessly rough standards he had for himself in front of Thomas.

Here he didn’t just have to be logic.

Here… with Roman and Janus on both sides of him… he was safe.

So he cried, he cried until he felt like he couldn’t cry anymore. Until every emotion he’d ever felt came spilling out of him all at once, for what must have been hours upon hours. Until his head was resting on Janus’ knee while the other side gingerly ran his fingers through his hair, soothing the dry sobs right out of him. Until he felt Roman’s blisteringly warm hands resting firmly on his back, promising not to go anywhere. For the first time he felt safe enough to let out these emotions, as scary and unpredictable as they may be.

The hand on his back moved a little. “Logan,” Came Roman’s voice close to his back, “I don’t want any of us to have to hide like this again. Janus has been hiding and masking himself for years, so have you, and… I don’t want to do it. I never want to have to do it to feel like I have to survive. That’s why I brought you here, that why Janus let me show you his room. If.. if we want things to start changing for the better… we have to take the first step.”

Sniffling, Logan raised his head a little, looking back at Roman’s surprisingly serious face. He supposed that in a way that Roman was right, he hadn’t even been sure for how long he was going to keep his unfeeling and emotionless facade up or if it would just eventually become a part of himself if he let it go on for long enough. What would have happened if Roman had never gotten him out of his bedroom? If he’d just let Logan be there, unhappy and locked away from everyone who intentionally and unintentionally hurt him.

Nothing would change.

Just one cycle after another, with all of them suffering in silence unable to read the other.

“We’re not mind readers.” Logan mumbled, more to himself than anything. “We shouldn’t expect the other to be either…”

“What?” Janus asked, unable to hear Logan through the folds of fabric, and judging from the look on Roman’s face he certainly hadn’t heard him any better either.

A light dusting of pink made its way over the tops of Logan’s ears.

Giving a little cough though he repeated himself. “I said…” Logan scratched the back of his neck. “None of us are mind readers, and we shouldn’t expect the others to be if we’re not. Hiding and scurrying away when it comes to our true feelings, and acting passive aggressive helps nothing if it just keeps building and building when nobody notices it.” Fiddling with the fabric Logan went on, feeling as if he was digging his own grave at this point. “If.. if someone brings something up in front of the others… we need to have each others’ back, especially if it's something… precious to us.”

Almost immediately Logan felt a pair of hands come up behind him ruffling up his hair, making it stick straight up in the air as Roman grinned at him. Before he even knew it Roman had hooked his arms from behind Logan, giving him the biggest squeeze of a hug that he’d ever felt. And the pride bursting within Janus’ eyes spoke leagues, even if there was nothing else about Janus’ body language that said so.

“If you tell me something that you want to be seriously taken, I won’t laugh at you. And I’ll make sure that the others won’t either.” Roman promised, but not before crossing a giant X over his heart and pretending to jab out his eye. “Janus, if you ever want to show up as you are, and not who they expect… I will stand behind them one hundred percent, and I will stand against them if they have anything bad to say about it at all.” He promised, warmth flooding his chest as he looked down at his two best friends. “I want the both of you to be comfortable and safe. I want you to be able to smile without worry.”

Logan hadn’t thought it possible for his week to end up like this, since the most recent interaction with Janus he’d felt shoved to the side and forgotten. To the point where he was ready to just decide in his room and not make any kinds of comments unless called on by another. But having Roman come to him, and having Roman make his promises…

It felt a lot like hope.

“I hope you know that I will do the same for you,” Logan uttered softness filling his voice, “If they say anything about your ideas that you’re excited for, or have anything to say about how you treat either of us… I have your back, I’ll stand by you.” And turning his gaze to Janus, the one side that he’d thought he’s have to fight against his falsehoods forever. He saw him for who he really was, and who he wanted to be. “I promise you… I will not ever let them laugh at you, I will take you seriously even if they try not to.” A tiny smile quirked onto Logan’s lips, the first one in a long while. “I’ll yell with my teacher's voice.”

“You two will always have a place here.” Janus uttered with a fair amount of reverence. “Through good and bad, if you need me I will be here for you. Should the others turn their backs on you. I won’t. That is a promise.”

Maybe it was just the warmth of Janus’ room, blazing even brighter, but…

They all felt a little warmer that night, ready to take on whatever demons laid in wait for them the next morning.

[onceuponaloonatic]

(i just read most of surrogate au on a road trip i Love) do you want to do chaeyoung is hanging out with jihyo and baby nico but jihyo has to run in for a work thing or smth and so chaeyoung is left alone with nico. chaeyoung however has Zero childcare skills and is so clueless. queue chaeyoung getting nontoxic paint and trying to paint with 2 month old nico, its literally all smears and both are covered in paint from head to toe by the end but sana and jihyo both love it and take one of the "artworks" and frame it.

thank you so much !! sorry for the wait !! also i only have three asks left so if you guys have any ideas please send asks!!

“Who’s the cutest baby in the world? You are.” Jihyo smiled as she tickled Nico’s stomach, earning her a giggle in response. Nico had just started giggling a few days ago, right after her second month of life had officially begun. Needless to say, her parents could not give enough of it. Sana had taken countless videos the first time Nico giggled, and had sent all of them to Jihyo. Now that Jihyo was watching Nico, she couldn’t get enough of her baby girl giggling. “I love you.” Jihyo kissed Nico’s cheek.

“Babe if you give her too much attention she’s going to be spoiled.” Chaeyoung giggled from the couch. She had received most of the videos from Jihyo, and she thought it was adorable how in love with Nico Jihyo was. She also knew her girlfriend needed this time with Nico. She hadn’t been able to spend much time with her lately and Chaeyoung knew it was eating at Jihyo. “I think it’s too late for that.” Jihyo picked Nico up and carried her to the couch where she sat next to Chaeyoung. She quickly settled Nico before leaning into her girlfriend. “You’ve seen how Sana is with her. Sana is like obsessed with Nico.” “Don’t pretend you aren’t too.” Chaeyoung giggled. “You are just as in love with her as Sana is. She’s my competition for your heart.” Chaeyoung smiled when a tiny foot kicked her arm as Nico wiggled in Jihyo’s lap.

“You know I love both of you right? It’s not a competition. I love both of you.” Jihyo nodded, resting her head on Chaeyoung’s shoulder. Chaeyoung’s arm snaked its way around her waist and Jihyo smiled. “I know. Don’t tell Nico though, we have a bet going.” Chaeyoung laughed as Nico’s foot kicked her again. Chaeyoung took her free hand and grabbed Nico’s foot, squeezing her clothed foot. Nico’s toes curled reflexively, gripping onto Chaeyoung's hand while she played with Jihyo’s shirt collar. Their perfect moment was interrupted when Jihyo’s phone rang. Jihyo sighed, moving Nico to one arm to pick up the phone. Chaeyoung squeezed Jihyo’s waist before letting go, moving to take Nico from her girlfriend. Nico giggled as Chaeyoung lifted her up as high as she could before bringing her back in. Jihyo eyed her with an amused smile while she talked on the phone, but it was quickly replaced with a look Chaeyoung knew all too well. “Your boss?” Chaeyoung asked once Jihyo was off the phone. “It’s Saturday. My boss knows I don’t work weekends.” Jihyo sighed. “But there’s an emergency in the case, if I don't fix it we might not be able to get the conviction.” “I get it.” Chaeyoung smiled. “You have an important job. Nico knows that too. I’ve got her, go.” “Thank you so much. I love you. You're the best.” Jihyo gave Chaeyoung a quick kiss before getting up to get dressed. “I know. I’m the best girlfriend in the world. It’s a curse.” Chaeyoung said dramatically. Jihyo laughed as she quickly threw on work appropriate clothes. Once she was dressed she pulled her hair up in a quick ponytail before moving to say goodbye. “Be good for Auntie Chaeyoung Nico.” Jihyo kissed Nico’s chubby cheek. “And you, no roughhousing.” “Can’t make any promises.” Chaeyoung giggled. “I’m serious. I should be back after lunch. You have Sana’s number but in case your phone dies it’s on the fridge. Her bottles with instructions are in the fridge. Sana wrote them so they should be pretty through but if you have any questions I’ll keep my phone on and Momo calls herself the master of bottles, she doesn’t need to eat until after her mid-day nap but if I’m not back by then you’ll need to take care of it. She needs to nap at eleven thirty, and she should be awake by one. The baby monitor is on but if there’s any issues with it-”

“Jihyo, it’s okay. Seriously you and Sana both spiral so much. It’s going to be okay. Nico and I have hung out before. I love you, have fun at work.” Chaeyoung giggled, kissing Jihyo one more time.

“Thank you. I love you too. Bye Chae, bye Nico!” Chaeyoung had to practically push Jihyo out of the apartment. “It’s just you and me kiddo.” Chaeyoung giggled, kissing Nico’s cheek before taking her over to the couch. She sat for a few minutes before Nico started whining. Chaeyoung quickly went through the usual list of Nico things but it quickly dawned on her why Nico was whining. “You're bored. Alright, let’s find something for you to do.” Chaeyoung went over to the baby bag Sana had packed and looked through it. She found a toy for Nico, pulling it out and giving it to Nico. Nico felt the toy, but immediately threw it. “Alright not that.” Chaeyoung sighed. She had spent time with Nico before, but not alone. She actually had never watched kids alone. Her best friend growing up babysat a bit in high school for some extra money, but Chaeyoung only went with her once and the kid was ten. It was nothing like taking care of a baby. It was a little overwhelming. So Chaeyoung did what she normally did when she had no idea what to do. Google.

After a quick “what to do with a two month old” google search and looking through a few articles she came to the conclusion she had no idea what she was doing. She had already tried toys, Nico had quickly rejected that. Sana and Momo handled tummy time so Chaeyoung didn’t want to do anything that would be wrong or confusing for Nico. Nico’s nap didn’t start for an hour, and she clearly wasn’t hungry. “What do you want to do baby?” Chaeyoung sighed, thinking about what to do. “You could help Auntie Chaeyoung with her work, would that be fun?” Chaeyoung’s answer came with a tiny kick to the arm and she took that as a yes. She carried Nico over to the makeshift paint station she had in the corner of their living room. Before she moved in, Jihyo had an old piano she had inherited from her family there. Now the piano sat on the other side of the living room and Jihyo’s dead plant that had been sitting in her living room for way too long had been replaced. Chaeyoung liked the change, it felt a lot more homey. “Alright let’s see. Here, this is non-toxic. Have you ever painted before?” Chaeyoung asked. “I’m guessing you haven’t. Your mommies are kind of boring. Let’s change that.” Chaeyoung smiled. “Do you know what color this is? This is red.” Chaeyoung smiled, getting some red non-toxic paint and putting some on her paint tray. She moved Nico so she was using one hand to support her body, Nico looking at her curiously. Chaeyoung put one finger in the red paint, showing it to Nico before putting it on the blank canvas. “Want to try?” Chaeyoung grabbed one of Nico’s hands and put it in the paint before putting it on the canvas. Nico giggled as a tiny hand print appeared on the canvas. “Like that? Let’s get some more colors yeah?” xx

Jihyo got through her work as quickly as possible. She wanted to be back before Nico’s nap in case Chaeyoung had trouble putting her down and she wanted to spend time with Nico. Thankfully, she got through it all quickly. She rushed home as fast as she could, noting she got home a couple minutes before Nico’s nap was supposed to start.

“Chae? I’m back!” Jihyo called when she entered the apartment. She took her shoes off before going into the living room. She saw her daughter and girlfriend sitting at Chaeyoung’s painting station. Both of them were covered in paint somehow but both had huge smiles on their faces. Jihyo couldn’t help herself but take a picture. “Hi baby.” Jihyo greeted after taking a picture.

“Oh hey! Nico look Mama’s back!” Chaeyoung giggled. “We made art.” “I can see that.” Jihyo smiled, taking Nico from Chaeyong and giggling at how much paint was on the denim dress Sana had put on her that morning. “Let’s go get you clean and then take a nap.” “I’ll clean up here.” Chaeyoung smiled. Jihyo nodded and carried Nico to their bedroom. She undressed Nico before putting her in the sink and gently wiping the paint off of her. She put on Nico’s pink frog print pajamas before sitting down on the bed with Nico in her arms. She rubbed Nico’s back and hummed to her as she waited for her to fall asleep. Nico was out quicker than Jihyo had ever seen her, and Jihyo gently put her in her crib before going back to her girlfriend. “She asleep?” Chaeyoung asked. “She fell asleep faster than she ever has with me.” Jihyo smiled, sitting in Chaeyoung’s lap. “Cool. Look at the art we did.” Chaeyoung showed Jihyo the canvas, which was covered in paint smudges and tiny hand prints. “Aww. We should hang this in the new living room.” Jihyo giggled.

“Hmm.. I think we should put it in Nico’s new room. The nice thing about moving is she will have her own room with us too.” “We could do that. Or you two could make a smaller one and it could go onto our new fancy fridge.” Jihyo offered. “Oh, sounds good. I meant to ask, would you prefer purple or blue for Nico’s new room? I was thinking we could do a sky theme with clouds and stars, but I wanted to ask your opinion first.” Chaeyoung asked.

“Chaeyoung, you really don’t have to-”

“No no no. You agreed to give me complete creative control of Nico’s room when you decided to give her her own room. It’s part of being my girlfriend.” Chaeyoung wrapped her arms around Jihyo’s waist.

“I was going to say, you don’t need to paint my daughter’s room. It’s a lot of work-”

“I know. But we can do it together. Nico deserves the world.” Chaeyoung kissed Jihyo’s temple. “Plus painting is kind of sexy, isn’t it?” “I can’t believe you.” Jihyo rolled her eyes, but couldn’t fight the proud smile on her face. Even if she was faking annoyance, she loved how much Chaeyoung loved Nico. When they were first dating, Chaeyoung had seemed apprehensive about Nico. Jihyo and her were already dating when Jihyo found out Sana was pregnant, but their relationship was only a few weeks old and definitely not in a place to be having kids together. Chaeyoung was younger than her too, so Jihyo was worried about how she would be with Nico. But ever since Chaeyoung had met her, she had been in love with Nico. And it seemed the longer they were together, the more Chaeyoung fell in love with Jihyo’s daughter. Nico was important to Jihyo, and so was Chaeyoung. She couldn’t help but be filled to the brim with happiness seeing them get along. “Love you too Hyo.”

[unsaidholland]

mean it in the morning | h. osterfield

a little bit of an angsty harrison piece that ends in fluff!!

warnings: one or more swear words, mentions of sex but no smut, harrison osterfield being a begging mess (this deserves a warning because i think he’s so cute)

it wasn’t unusual for you and harrison to wind up in bed together. you were friends who slept together, nothing more, but nothing could erase the fact that the two of you were madly in love with each other. you just refused to act on it. you wanted something with harrison, who wouldn’t? with his eyes as blue as a summer sky with as much depth as the ocean, and his touch as warm as being under the covers on a cold, winter night, yet as familiar as your childhood bedroom, how could anyone not fall in love with someone like him? it was so easy for you to fall in love with him, but what you didn’t realize was how easy it was for the blond to fall in love with you.

you were everything that he could’ve ever wanted, you just didn’t realize it. there was nothing more comforting to harrison than the weight of you in his arms or the way you looked at him and the world with a glimmer in your eyes. you had your fair share of bad days, but harrison fell in love with the way you still looked out at the world as if it still had so much to give, because you knew in your heart that you still had so much left ahead of you. that being said, harrison knew he loved you the first time you had ever slept with him. everything felt right, like two puzzle pieces fitting together - he felt like he had found his soulmate. 

but now the two of you were laying in bed together, naked as the day you were born. you were facing him, hands playing with the rings that sat on his fingers. you were always obsessed with them, his rings, his fingers, his hands in general if we’re being honest. harrison’s other hand was sitting on the small of your back, thumb rubbing circles into your skin. this was home, being with harrison, having these secret moments. they were picture-perfect, capturing the intimacy between you two, but also they encapsulated the serenity that you two felt while alone together.

“i love you,” harrison whispered, but barely. if it weren’t so comfortably quiet, nothing but the sounds of you breathing, then you wouldn’t have heard it. your heart dropped. this was everything you wanted, but it didn’t seem real. 

“don’t say that.” you were being cold, you knew that, but the warm secret moments had suddenly frozen over with ice, and suddenly you felt like you needed to protect yourself. you stopped playing with his rings and let go of his hands.

“why? why are you so upset with the fact that i love you?” there was that word again - love. love meant nothing when it had to do with sex, you were convinced of that at an early age. he wasn’t in love with you, you thought harrison only thought he loved you because you had slept together, and that was all. he only loved you because you gave him a good time, he only loved you because you knew how to please him, that you were sure of. you just didn’t know that level of intimacy ran deeper than merely sexual. 

“because you won’t mean it in the morning. we’ll go to bed, and then wake up and you’ll act like i don’t exist because that’s what happens. it always happens,” you stated as if it was general knowledge, but that’s because it was to you. in your eyes, harrison saw you as nothing more than just a body for him to use, rather than someone who could possibly be his soulmate, someone he might want to spend the rest of his life with.

“you should know me well enough to know that i’m not like that.” out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw harrison’s eyes go dark with sadness, turn glossy with tears that could possibly fall, but that’s something you never wanted to see. turning your back to him, you looked out the large, floor-to-ceiling windows that took up the whole wall. the stars were blocked by the clouds, the moon not even seen, but the light was there. the london skyline painted the bottom of the horizon, and it was enough of a distraction to take you away from where you were emotionally at war with harrison and yourself.

“so you want me to believe that you love me even though we’re sitting here, naked? no, harrison you’re just acting like this because i gave you a good time. that’s all you want.” the tears were welling up in your eyes, threatening to fall, but you’d be damned if you let them fall.

“i’m going home harrison, don’t follow me.” you got up from the bed and immediately went to redress yourself. you felt harrison’s grip on your wrist as you reached for your shirt. he was still butt naked, not even bothering to redress, his mind was focused on the possibility of losing you.

“y/n, please,” harrison begged, but you weren’t having any of it. he never showed you he loved you in the mornings when you would wake up together, legs intertwined, nothing but his shirt and the blankets covering your body, while the blond was just in his boxers. he never showed you he loved you when the two of you were spending time alone on the sofa having one of your weekly movie nights. maybe he did love you, and you just didn’t know it, but he sure didn’t show it.

“if you really loved me, then you would say it any other time than right after we fucked.” you knew your words were harsh, but him telling you he loved you right after a mind-blowing orgasm just felt as if he was using you. maybe he wasn’t, but your gut was convinced that he was. and maybe you were putting up a wall subconsciously to protect yourself, but at the end of the day, you didn’t want to get hurt.

you tore your wrist from his grasp, tears still threatening to fall as you slipped your shirt on. you didn’t notice that a few had fallen and there were wet spots on your shirt under the collar, but harrison did. 

“goodbye harrison,” you said, getting up to walk out of the bedroom and out of his apartment. harrison followed you though, and as you heard his footsteps behind you, you tried to speed up and get out without him catching up to you. nonetheless, he caught up to you, despite all your best efforts. 

“please,” harrison whispered. you tried everything to avoid his ocean blue eyes, but you had caught them and couldn’t help but notice how dark and stormy they were. they looked like the horizon you were looking at just moments earlier, cloudy, but the light was there.

you couldn’t avoid his eyes, you were drawn to them like a magnet, and only because they were some of the most beautiful things you had ever seen. you’d never seen a shade of blue quite like his eyes, and that was why you couldn’t break the eye contact. what you didn’t see hiding behind his eyes was that he was telling the truth. your judgement was clouded, but all for a good reason.

“y/n, babe, please.” the pet name was one that had been frequently used in bed, but never when he was pleading with you. the two of you tried to stay away from pet names, mainly because you didn’t want to cross the line between friends and lovers, but it was too late. you knew that. friends didn’t have sex as often as you two did, and friends definitely didn’t stay the night afterwards knowing that they were going to be held the whole night. if the two of you were just friends, then maybe you spending the night would’ve happened, but not in the way that you did.

“don’t call me that,” you whispered. you were losing your composure. from how close harrison was, to the way he was pleading with you, you were starting to give in. you tried your best to recompose yourself, but he was like a drug and you couldn’t get enough. you needed more of him. 

you wanted the mornings where you would wake up next to him with his arm around you and your head on his chest to be more of a reality than a once-in-a-while thing. you wanted the nights where you would watch a film and he would lay his head in your lap so you could play with his hair, you wanted harrison, but not like this. you still felt that deep down he wouldn’t mean it in the morning, but that was immediately buried under his touch as soon as cupped your face.

“stay the night, i’ll prove it to you, i swear.” you searched his eyes for any form of a lie, but you saw nothing. harrison lifted a hand, his fingers curled into a fist except for his pinky. a soft smile appeared on your face as you locked your pinkies together, securing his promise.

-

harrison osterfield taglist: @euphorichxlland @becicamina

anything and everything taglist: @hollanderfangirl @hxrryhxlland @ohmy-moonlightx @musicalkeys @notsosmexy​ @writertoo18​ @icyhollands​ @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh​ @lehmehgeh @call-me-baby-gir1​

[sichengtual]

— summary: in which seungcheol, a high-collared executive at his dad’s firm, signs up for a fake dating service in an attempt to make everyone believe his life is more than just the office.

— pairing: choi seungcheol x reader.

— genre(s): fluff, humor, angst.

— au: fake dating, office.

— word count: 2091.

masterlist.

part two — business meeting.

“Thank you so much for meeting me here.” 

Seungcheol is nervous, and you can tell.

He sits up straight in his seat, shadows grazing upon his face like silhouettes, contrasting against the bright shimmer of his golden specs. He looks completely comfortable in his own skin, posture relaxed yet composed and facial expression completely at ease — and yet, there is something about him that lets you know not everything is the way it seems. It might be the fact that his grip on the napkin is a bit too tight for comfort and the tapping of his foot against the floor is a bit too loud for you to ignore, but you decide not to dwell on it when his eyes meet yours. 

“No problem,” you answer, crossing your legs under the table. “It’s a bit far from my place but when you said you’d pay for the meal, I really couldn’t say no.” 

“Yeah, I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone, you know,” he says, taking a sip from his wine glass. “This place is really close to my office, and I figured actually going out to lunch would be a very welcomed change.”

“Oh, so you’re actually addicted to your job?” A small laugh leaves your lips, accompanying your words. 

“When did I ever-”

“I just figured,” you shrugged.

Seungcheol was an interesting figure. At the first meeting, he was nice and extremely polite, which didn’t really differ from the way he spoke to you on the phone and through his texts. He was handsome, which, thinking of in addition to his personality, didn’t really add up to the kind of guys you usually have to fake a date with. Yoon Jeonghan and the like were handsome men, granted, but they never showed as much consideration as Choi Seungcheol, and that was coming from the first time you actually met him. Not that truth is written in first impressions but the one you were getting from him was a pretty good sign.

“Right,” he mutters, cheeks lighting up in embarrassment. “Am I really that easy to read?” 

You let out a laugh. “No, I’m just pretty good at reading people.” 

You wouldn’t consider yourself an overly attentive person, an expert at noticing and analyzing body language, or anything of the sort. You are just familiar with pretending, as you’ve always liked to say, and one of the things that comes with it is knowing people act in the exact same way they want to be perceived. Sometimes they succeed, and sometimes they don’t, but nevertheless, the method is always the same no matter the result. And, as such, you’ve found that there are a few cues that fall front and center every time a person is just creating the version of themselves they want you to see. 

“Anyways,” you say, clearing your throat. “What is it exactly that you need from me?” 

“Well, I was thinking we could pretend we’re —” 

“No, no, I know I’m here to let people believe we’re bangin’,” you blurt out. You notice Seungcheol’s eyes widening and cheeks lighting up at your words, and a part of you can’t believe that is really the most authentic reaction your classic line has gotten to the date. There is an unspoken rule of sorts based purely on how  “But who is it that we need to convince? An angry ex, a controlling parent, a meddlesome friend…”

“Meddlesome brother, more like,” he comments, voice a bit softer than it was a moment before. “He uh, he dates a lot, and I don’t, and seems to be under the impression I need to follow his example.” 

“It’s kinda weird how we’re expected to follow someone’s lead, isn’t it? Even when it’s something as personal as dating.” 

“Do you…”

“Oh, no,” you say. “I do it because the money comes in handy, you know. I don’t think anyone in my life actually ever believes I’m in a real, serious relationship.” 

“Do you mind if I ask why?” 

“Well, I’ve never been in one,” you answer, and it’s now your turn to grow shy at your own words. 

It’s not that you’re ashamed of it, because you know there’s nothing wrong with the pace your love life has been running by, but it’s not something you simply blurt out whenever you meet someone new. And especially not someone you’re about to date, even if it’s fake, because well, after all, you’re not exempt from the trying to be perceived a certain way. It’s never easy to tear a wall down, let out some sort of vulnerability. And it certainly isn’t like you. 

You turn your head and look outside, eyes peering through the windowsill that covers the entire wall right next to you. The restaurant rises on the top of some thirty-story building, and looking out from the window makes your stomach turn. It’s not about the height, per se, but the effect it has on everything around you. On the clouds, and how some sort of you feels as if they’ve gotten closer, and realest to the touch — and on the people, and how the mere height you’re looking at them from makes the whole scene kind of surreal. It’s as if the height has turned an every-day setting into a scene right out of a movie, characters and all, because the more you look at the figures moving on the ground below, the more their silhouettes blur in and out with each other. 

You shake your head. 

“So, do you have a plan already? Or have you at least thought of how we’re going to make your brother believe we’re dating?” You ask. “I usually go out on a few dinner dates or tag along to some event, but I… uh, thought maybe you’d figured something out already.”

“Well, I don’t think my brother will actually care if we’re together for a long time or not,” Seuncheol started. He hadn’t given it much thought, but considering the way Mingyu treated his own relationships, he didn’t really think his brother would look into the actual time Seungcheol ‘dated’ someone. “You could maybe stop by the office someday and we’ll come have lunch after that, call me when he’s around… I don’t know. I think he just has to see us together sometimes, don’t you think?” 

“That works for me,” you smile. “So, just a few days?”

“Yeah, just a few days.”

Seungcheol raises his cup, and as you imitate his gesture, you clink your cups together. 

“Well, I guess it’s on.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing it again.”

Vernon is looking at you from the other side of the couch. It comes out somewhat undecipherable, and a part of you wants to scold him for speaking with his mouth full, but he’d only shake his head at you as a response. He chews on his cereal as he finishes speaking, bowl already half finished resting on his lap. 

“It’s not that big of a deal,” you roll your eyes. “We’re just going out for lunch for a few days, that’s it. I’m barely even gonna get to know him.”

“Yeah, but after last time, I thought you were gonna quit… all of that.”

“That was different,” you say. Your voice is firm, words coming out of your mouth in complete certainty. “And it was a long time ago.”

“It’s only been a year.”

“A lot can happen in a year! 

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ve had some remarkable personal growth happening this year, with all those Nicholas Sparks novels you’ve been reading,” he laughs. “Anyways, I kinda get why you said yes.” 

You’re not sure whether he’s serious or not, because the tone of his voice lets nothing away. He always speaks in the same ‘I’m joking but I’m also not joking’ manner, which leaves you with his facial expressions to kind of get some idea of the actual direction conversations could take. 

“Oh, please, let me out of my misery,” you let out. You laugh a bit as you mutter the words, resting your back against the armrest of the couch. If there was one thing Vernon was good at, which you had told him plenty of times, was thrifting furniture. There definitely had to be some talent behind finding couches that felt just as new but actually were a fifth part of the price. “Enlighten me, you mind reader.”

“Come on, I saw his car when he was dropping you off,” he scoffs. Shaking his head, he takes in another spoonful of cereal in his mouth, chewing before he continues his grand, expert reasoning. “Although I’m not sure why he would need to come to you for… you know, whatever it is that you’ll do. Full offense, by the way.”

“Offense taken.”

“I’m just saying, if I had a car like that I wouldn’t hire someone to fake date me, if you know what I’m saying,” he shrugged, which would have diverted your attention if only he had not laughed as soon as he had finished speaking. You knew him better than that. 

“Oh God, are you saying the only reason you’re oh so painfully single is because you don’t drive a Mercedes Benz?” 

“I’m just saying maybe I wouldn’t need to have you and Chan tag along with me to the movies if I drove a Mercedes Benz!”

“Tag along with you? I’m the one that always pays at the movies, you idiot,” you accuse. “And don’t forget you’re the one that bought the Nicholas Sparks novels.”

Vernon spreads out his legs, kicking your feet off the couch in the process. He pretends not to notice, smirking and turning to face the TV, which, surprisingly, was playing yet another episode of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. You’re convinced that Vernon’s obsession with watching reality shows while eating cereal in his underwear every single Friday night might have more to do with him being single than not having a Mercedes Benz. 

“Poor guy, if he only knew your feet fucking stink,” he mutters under his breath before laughing at something on the TV. “I hope he asks for a refund! I would do it if it were me.” 

“One of these days, I’m actually going to kick you out,” you retort. You’re not, and he knows that, but that doesn’t stop you from “And I’ll let you know I’m actually a real catch.”

“Is that why you’re just as single as I am?” He laughs, turning his head to face you before sticking up his nose in your direction. Why was he even your friend? “Oh, and also, you’ve been kicking me out since we were in college.” 

“Yeah, I really should have done that when we were in college.”

“What, me?” 

“You wish,”

You laugh and roll your eyes, turning to look at the TV. A box of Cheerios sits opened on the coffee table, and you stretch your arm for it just as Vernon slurps the milk from his bowl. Unlike your roommate, you’re not caught up with the show, so you lazily keep your eyes on the screen as you snack on the honey-flavored cereal and let your thoughts roam free. A part of you keeps stuck on the lunch date — there was something about Seungcheol that was making it impossible for you to let go of your encounter. He was certainly different from the guys you had fake dated, because, oddly enough, you could tell some part of him was really unsure about the whole thing. He had been nervous, and you could sense it wasn’t just about meeting you, but of everything that could come out of it. 

He had been extremely nice, and as such, you had decided you were about to make it as easy for him as you could. Not because he had hired you, but because there was something in the way he smiled at you that let you know he was going to do the exact same thing for you. You had set up a plan in your head, and you would treat the whole thing as you would when making a new friend. 

A few days were enough to form a friendship, were they not? 

But, by now, you should also know plans don’t always work out. Time passes, and things change, and there is no security behind whatever words were first spoken. It always turns out that words are not written in stone, and neither are business deals.

[kca1516]

Summary:

Draco and Y/N are rivals...until they are most certainly not.

~~~~

This is a oneshot (with potential to be expanded on) where the reader and Draco are enemies through their years in Hogwarts. One day Draco's insult goes too far, and the reader starts avoiding him. Outraged and jealous, Draco tracks her down and forces her to tell him what's wrong.

She finds out not everything is as it seems.

(Gryffindor!reader)

Warnings: Smut, light dom/sub, dom!Draco, angst with a happy ending, slight dub-con (at one point the reader tries to escape from where draco has her pinned, this leads into the smut but the smut is consensual) also this was edited quickly so mistakes will pop up hear and there

This fic can also be found in full on ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26475127

Hope you enjoy Part 1!

The gloss of his silver and emerald tie flashed in the sunlight streaming in through the arched stained glass windows. 

His sharp tongue peaked out from behind that cocky smirk that could always be found at home upon his lips. The boy tilted his head back in triumph, claiming victory before he had achieved it. The battle had only just begun, and you were nothing less than a formidable enemy. 

Then there were his eyes. His storm cloud gaze struck through you, parting your flesh and searing your insides with a brand you would never admit lay there.

Draco Malfoy.

The Slytherin Prince. 

“Where do you think you're going, Y/L/N,” he called from behind you, “I decide when I’m through with you.”

His voice was an ominous echo off the domed ceiling. You could feel his steps vibrated through the floor despite the other students in the hallway. It was a silent promise that he would catch up with you, and there was nowhere you could go that he wouldn’t find you.

It didn’t mean you were going to make it easy on him. 

You could hear Malfoy’s gangle of idiot friends snicker at something the blonde said. Smoke seemed to trail off of your frame as you burned with pure loathing. 

Not today, any other day but today...

You had met Draco Malfoy as a measly first year at the age of eleven. 

Your hair had been an unruly mop on top of your head, there had been dirt built up under your jagged fingernail edges, and you had been alight with hope and excitement for the years that would come. 

Even from such a young age, you had always been kind, and adventurous, and alive with an inhibited joy that burned through you. 

Never had you thought that while you were about to embark on a journey where you would meet the most amazing friends you could ever ask for, you would also meet a boy that would turn your world upside down.

The rivalry had started on the Hogwarts train platform. You had just stepped into your new adventure, the howling of the trains whistle fading into the distance.

You could distinctly remember obsessively adjusting the collar of your shirt. Your mother had ironed it for you this morning, but all your fidgeting had left it creased and wrinkled, destroying her hard work. 

You weren’t used to the stiffness of the uniform, having grown accustomed to wearing dresses when you played as it gave you more freedom. 

You had been plucking at one of the buttons when you heard something that would change your life forever.

“Watch it,” sneered a voice followed by a jarring thump as somebody collided with the ground, “don’t you know to get out of the way of those who are better than you? You're a pathetic excuse for a pureblood, Longbottom.”

As you would grow to expect, ridiculous, wild laughter followed his comment despite the lack of something funny. Uneasiness molded in your stomach; you couldn’t sit back and do nothing.

Ignoring the beckonings of the tall bearded man ushering the first years his way, you turned around. The crowd rushed over you. Despite the bodies knocking into you, you were able to spot your intended target easily enough.

Your gaze landed on a disheveled boy planted firmly on the ground. His chin was quivering, and you knew his hands must be cut up from where they had scraped the gravel. Then you trailed your eyes to the boy standing over him. His platinum hair was slicked back and his hands were bunched into fists. Two larger boys towered over his shoulders, as if they were guarding him. 

You couldn’t control the sudden anger that flushed through you. You didn’t like bullies. Rolling up your sleeves you stomped your way to the boys. 

“The only pathetic one here is you,” you’re eleven year old self seethed, marching up to the scene with a clear purpose. 

You made sure to get right up in the bullies faces so as to take his attention away from the boy on the ground who shot you a grateful look as he picked himself up from where he was frozen on the platform.

The blonde seemed to have lost his bearings at your sudden appearance for only a moment. He hadn’t expected there to be a third party in this interaction, but too quickly for your liking his self-satisfied smirk played along his lips once more. It would come to be one of your greatest irritants when dealing with him in the future. 

“And who might you be, flower?” the boy asks, a condescending tone to his voice you didn’t know was possible to achieve at the age of eleven. Nonetheless, you weren’t cowed.

“Someone you’re going to be having problems with if you don’t apologize for pushing my friend here,” you said firmly, then added as an afterthought, “And don’t call me flower.”

You could feel your nose scrunching angrily in the way that made your mother smile, and hoped it didn’t hinder the intimidation you're trying to embody. The blonde boy merely narrowed his eyes, as if unsure what to make of you.  

“How do you know I pushed him?” the boy asked.

That caught you off guard.

“Excuse me?” you said, knowing full well what the boy had done even if you hadn’t seen it with your own two eyes. 

“I asked,” the boy said, annoyed that he had to repeat himself, “did you see me push him? How do you know I wasn’t trying to help him off the ground?”

You huffed out a breath of disbelief. Of course that wasn’t the truth; it was ridiculous. The fear in the others boys face would be enough to prove what had truly happened.

“Just because I didn’t see what happened doesn’t mean I didn’t hear it. Also-”

Unknowingly, you had just made your fatal mistake.

“So you agree, that you didn’t actually see what happened?”

You felt the presence of the blondes’s two bodyguards stepping closer to you, and the boy from the ground had all but escaped into his cloak like a turtle to his shell. You didn’t foresee getting any help from him, though you couldn’t blame him. 

“Well I-”

You tried to hold your ground, but your opponent wasn’t going to let you gain leverage. 

“I don’t think you had any idea what was happening before you butted in.”

The boy took a step forward. You had no choice but to take a step back. The fire that had burned in you, and pushed you to step in was now nothing more than dying embers on a cold winter’s night. Embarrassment heated your cheeks. 

“I-”

“Maybe if you weren’t so nosy you would have come to find I was helping our friend Nevile here pick himself back up from where he had clumsily fallen over his fat feet- Ow!”

You had panicked. 

Despite being nothing more than a child at the time, Draco Malfoy was already able to spin words and create wild tales of half truths that had you second guessing the validity of reality. As a young girl you hadn’t been accustomed to that type of manipulation, and had only understood the basic instinct that told you you wanted it to stop. 

Before you had any chance to think things through, you had hastily flicked the boy's forehead. His focus had stuttered, cutting him off mid sentence. Momentarily, you had regained control.   Even, who you would come to recognize as, Crabbe and Goyle hadn’t known what to do as their leader was indisposed. 

You knew better than to waste the escape presented to you.

“Hey Nevile,” you had said before grabbing the boy’s hand and sprinting to the boats, “if we don’t want to start our year off with blackeyes I’d suggest we run.”

~~~~~~~~~~

From that point on you and Malfoy had had it out for each other. 

Your houses turning out to be natural enemies, Slytherin and Gryffindor, didn’t help matters. The age old feud only strengthened the hatred you had for each other, and when caught in a battle of words and whits neither of you were known to back down. Some of your fights had become legendary during your growing years at Hogwarts. 

There was the time in second year where Malfoy made one of your Hufflepuff friends cry so hard she could barely take in a breath. Naturally, you had tracked him down and hadn’t given him the chance to say your name before you had given him a bloody nose. 

Your third year together had only amped up your antics. It had found the two of you arguing over the true origin of the accio spell in the middle of Professor Flitwick’s Charms class. Your teacher had turned bright red as his voice was lost in the mayhem of the two of you screaming profanities at each other until rain clouds had formed above your heads. 

But maybe the most infamous argument the two of you had ever partaken in started when Draco thought it would be funny to dye your skin green and silver. He had conveniently forgotten the countercurse. 

You had chewed him out in front of the entire school in the Great Hall, including Professor Dumbledore. The teachers not only had to drag you from the room, but had to reschedule your classes so the two of you had as little contact with each other as possible. Of course, now the two of you knew how to keep your arguments underwraps so as not to get into any serious trouble with the school. 

Looking back, you had always been drawn to each other. The explosive energy between you was unbearable unless unleashed in a form of chaos. 

The two of you thrived off of weaponized words, aimed to kill like that of a well casted spell. You orbited each other; burning stars ready to erupt in a shower of blinding dust should they ever collide.

But maybe for the first time in your life you found yourself running away from a fight with Malfoy, despite his voice beckoning you from further down the hall. What you wanted to do was escape, despite being a Gryffindor.

This thing you shared with Malfoy had gone too far; you were freefalling without an end in sight.

 It had all started in Potions class. It was the only period you didn’t share with any friends which meant you were stuck listening to Malfoy without being able to snap back at him. Especially because he was one of Snape’s favorites, and you were very clearly not. 

Just as class had been coming to an end, and your patience was wearing thin, you heard something that turned the fire inside to an icy tundra.

“I’d hit that,” Blaise, one of Draco’s friends, said. 

You could tell by the way he whispered that you were not intended to hear it.

Something in your gut curdled. 

You never liked when Malfoy’s friends were around to witness the arguments between you two. They changed the rhythm of things, ruining the routine that you and Malfoy thrived off of.  

They warped Malfoy into something nasty and cruel where he’d once respected boundaries.

That was the thing, when it was just the two of you there were boundaries. As hard to believe as it might sound, you two were equals. You regarded each other with a certain amount of respect that could not be guaranteed when there was an audience.  

For one, Malfoy had never used your body against you. Sure, he used to pick on you for being a girl when you were younger, but as you had grown older he never made vulgar sexual innuendos about you. 

He had never made you feel disgusting. 

To hear this conversation taking place behind you, made your skin tight as if it were about to shred off your bones. 

“I mean yes, she’s annoying as all hell, but she has a nice body. I’d use her for a night,” Blaise continued.

You held your breath, waiting to hear Malfoy’s response. You couldn't help but hope that Malfoy wouldn’t cross that line. 

You didn’t know what you had asked for.

“You’re sick, Blaise,” Draco said, his voice as cool and smooth as always. 

The heaviness in your chest eased.

You should have known it was too good to be true. 

“Why the hell would you want to sully your name with the likes of her? It’d be like fucking an animal; we are not the same breed. Have some self respect.”

A knife had lodged its way in between your ribs. 

You couldn’t breathe. You had never had delusions of grandeur concerning Malfoy’s feelings towards you. He hated you, and the feeling was mutual despite the bond you shared. 

But to hear him say you were nothing more than an animal to him, something dirty and other and not worthy of him in any way? 

You couldn’t breathe. 

The rush of hurt was more than you ever could have anticipated, and you were forced to come to terms with something you had holed up inside of you for so long.

Along the way you had fallen hard for Draco Malfoy, and he had just broken your heart.

That was how you found yourself running from him in the hallway.

His words repeated over and over in your mind. 

We are not the same breed.

To him, you were nothing more then something he could torture in hopes that you would twitch and bare your teeth when you were hurt.

For a brief, beautiful moment, that anger you had felt back when you were a child rushed you. You tried to cling to it, though you knew it wouldn’t last. 

If he thought you were nothing but an animal, you would sprout claws and fangs and wings and tear him to pieces. 

It was with that thought that a hand came down on your shoulder. The touch seared your flesh through your robes; there was no escaping him. 

“Where do you think you’re going, flower?” Malfoy whispered in your ear, his breath warm and persuasive as it dewed on your skin.

Goosebumps pimpled along your arms.  

There might have been a time where you had longed to fall back into his hold, but in the span of fifteen minutes everything had changed. 

You could have sworn he started to rub minute circles into the tense part of your neck with his thumb, you ignored it.

A cackling came from behind the two of you, helping you strengthen your resolve. His posse had followed him out in hopes of catching a show, you hated to disappoint. 

Blaise would be with them.

You kept your tears firmly at bay, refusing to show a hint of weakness.

Quicker than Malfoy could have anticipated, you spun around to face him. Your wand pointed at his neck, the tip grazing his jugular.

You saw red. 

For the first time since you were younger you didn’t care if a teacher came out. You didn’t care if you got in trouble for threatening him. He deserved what he got.  

A visceral crack sounded in your ears as your heart fractured a little more. 

It was like you were truly seeing him for the first time. 

He had grown into his height, no longer a mess of gangly limbs. His face had lost all baby fat, now structured from marble, and his hair was no longer slicked back as strands hung delicately in his face.

The only thing that had not changed, and never would, were his storm cloud eyes. 

“What exactly do you think this will accomplish, flower?”

There was danger in his voice, but he was unafraid. You dug the tip of your wand deeper into his neck if only to get him to shut up. His ability to condescend you had always been the cold press of a blade slicing your nerves. You hated how he could turn your own argument against you.

“I will put you in your place if I have to,” he promised, as if to remind you of something you couldn’t possibly forget.

A warmth cradled the fierce cold within you, begging you to give into the heat. 

He saw it, too. His eyes almost softened, calling to you to give into him. 

We are a different breed.

You tensed your jaw, and your nose scrunched up. 

“Leave me alone,” you said, “I’m done.”

You hastened away from him before he could stop you.

Part Two Here

[skeletonwoman]

J is for Jacket

A little something different now! I’ve always loved Jason Todd best but recently i’ve actually started to learn more about the entire batfam and Jay himself, so here’s the inspo from that

Edit: i created a second/alternate POV part called Jay is for Jacket

This city is damn terrifying.

You’re a little crazy obsessed with it, the damn crazy terrifying bit.

Like its truly damn crazy terrifyingly sick.

Just a little though, right here on the corner of your buildings roof, with the moon hidden by the clouds above, and the lights sprawled before you, its incredible.

Four different people land on the roof behind you, coming from some other building somewhere, and you try not to move. This high up its usually some kind of hero running around trying to stop something bad.

Funny that, the heroes on the rooftops and the villains in the basement.

I wonder if that’s a metaphor…

Usually, if you keep still, the heroes move on quickly enough without even noticing you.

This time, you’re so zoned in on the lights and being still and quiet that you don’t even notice it until those 4 people sit themselves beside you on the ledge.

“Oh, oh!” You jump, hands gripping the edge so tightly as you wobble. None of them move to touch you, and you’re unsure if that’s good or bad.

What if you’d fallen?

“I’m not going to jump,” you offer to your visitors but they remain silent.

A quick dart of your eyes left, shows you a mop of red hair and a bat mask, and right, shows you a red almost ski mask hood. You can’t tell who’s beyond the two immediately on either side of you. Ignoring the non-gothamite voice in your head, you settle in with your guests and just watch.

It’s a long hour before they leave and you wonder how many people got mugged while they sat with you.

Then you go back downstairs and to bed.

  “You’re such an ass!” You shout, kicking out at Dick, who dances away from you with a laugh. “You’re always bullying me!”

Dick laughs harder at that and you scowl. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best,” he promises, a twinkle in his eye and your heart thuds hard. He’s so romantic.

“Hey, Dicky,” you say softly and he pauses grinning to himself to look at you earnestly. “I think you’re wonderful, and you’re the most handsome person I’ve ever met, and I love that I got to know you.”

A bright blush fills his cheeks as you speak and he beams at you.

“I freaking wish we were in love, we would be so good at it,” he bemoans, gazing at you, eyes full of love, and you cackle.

“You couldn’t handle this, baby boy, I’d break your sweet heart.”

He nods, eyes serious and lips twitching.

Ahead, your building looms and as you step onto your stoop, you turn to your best friend. “Really, Grayson, you’re my best friend and you’re special.”

“And you’re mine. I suppose you’re special too, but, y’know, I’m extra special.” He grins at you charmingly and you ruffle his wind-mussed hair.

“You going to your class tomorrow?” The two of you both have classes on Tuesdays and Wednesdays and usually walk to and from campus with each other, even if it means getting there an hour early or leaving an hour late, just so you can spend some time together. Of course, sometimes you, or he, just don’t go to class.

“I don’t know, I’m hanging out with Jay tonight and you know how he is,” he says and shrugs.

You do know. You’ve been hearing about Jay for the past year, since you’d met your platonic soulmate in Dick Grayson on campus. Jay his baby brother, Jay the maniac, Jay as an idiot, broken Jay, stupid Jay, Jay his favourite sibling, Jay the best.

“Well, tell him I say that its time for bed and give him a Fredo kiss for me, throw him off his game.”

Your words bring another smile to Dicks face, your intent, and you trot up the steps and through the door of your building, offering him a last wave before you shut it. The plan is to make, eat and clean up dinner, then hunker down with your assignments.

That’s the plan.

  It’s 10.48pm, you’d just checked the time on your phone, and you hear a distant explosion.

There’s no flash of light or mushroom of smoke so you figure its just another Gotham night, though you wouldn’t be too shocked if there was.

  An hour later, a hero lands on your buildings roof and sits down beside you. He’s alone, the red hooded guy, which is odd but not suspect.

Your ass is cold, you should be doing your assessments and yet…

You shiver and startle when the man beside you moves- you’d both been so still for so long you’d forgotten he wasn’t a statue.

He sets his jacket over your shoulders and you whisper a soft, “thank you.”

“No problem.”

His voice is startling as well. It’s not rough and unused like you’d expected from someone so comfortable sitting in silence for so long. It’s actually- hell, what’s the word?

One minute he’s there, the next he’s gone.

Without his jacket.

Pulling it tighter around yourself, you’re glad. It smells nice, if a little smokey, and the residual warmth when he’d placed it on your shoulders had felt like nothing else. It lingers, fighting a losing battle with your body heat.

You’re never taking this off.

Unless he asks for it back.

Not even then.

  “Where’d you get that jacket?” Dick asks, his eyes squinting and suspicious. “And when?”

“I stole it, obviously, and last night.” You don’t want to tell him you consort with superheroes, it’s a little weird, maybe braggy, definitely not something you should advertise. “I found it hanging over this,” you pat the round ball at the end of your stoops stone railing, “and now it’s mine.”

Dick stares at you for a long minute as you both walk toward campus. “Are you sure?”

“What do you mean, am I sure, Dicky? Obviously I’m sure.” You bite your lip. “I didn’t steal it, if I thought it belonged to someone in my building I would’ve asked around, you know that. I don’t want to get beat up by some angry guys girlfriend.”

Dick grins at the image, momentarily distracted and you bite out a quick question about Jay and their night last night, and he takes the bait.

He does look at the jacket strangely several times though.

  It’s 6pm when a banging knock hits your door. For a second, you’re terrified.

More than a second.

Checking the peep hole, your breath whooshes out of you at the sight of a red mask.

Damn!

Unlatching your locks, you pull open the door and stare at him. He’s got to say it if he wants the jacket back. He has to ask.

“Can I have it back?”

Damn!

Your lips curve upwards even as you sigh loudly. Leaving the door open, you head across your tiny apartment to your armchair and pick up the discarded garment. For a moment, you hug it close and catch a teasing whiff of that just… Something scent.

“Here,” you say, crossing back to where he stands in the doorway and holding it out. “I’m sad to see it go, its amazing and I’m very jealous you own it. Where’d you get it?”

“No,” he says and you frown.

That’s not fair. But you don’t argue, since he’s totally capable of killing you and hiding your body.

“Thank you for lending it to me, I appreciated it, and have a wonderful night, Red,” you call after his retreating back and you watch him pause at the nickname before continuing back to the stairwell.

  The next morning, rushing out the door for work, your feet tangle in material and you catch your falling self on the wall. There, waiting on the ground outside your little apartments door is the jacket. The jacket!

Grinning from ear to ear, you snatch it up and shove it over your arms and run for work.

  Midway through the day, a shockingly good looking guy enters the store and you watch him browse the leashes and collars section for a long time before he wanders to the dog toys, then to the cat toys.

Your supposed to go ask if he needs a hand but he’s a bit rugged and controlled and intimidating and handsome and you’re unsure if you can move from this spot.

The shock of white at the front of his hair would be his most striking feature if he didn’t look up at that exact moment and lock eyes with you. Pretty, pretty, pale blue eyes.

This is what you were supposed to have with Dick.

This is love.

Or lust.

Both work.

Seizing on the eye contact, you head toward him with a customer smile. “Anything I can help you find today?”

For a second, his breathing seems to pick up as he stares at you and you force your smile brighter.

Oh boy.

Then he clears his throat. “Dog toy, great dane.”

His voice is weirdly deep and curt but you push past the strangeness. He’s a customer and they just be like that.

Beaming a smile, you gesture to a durable and hot pink stuffed elephant.  “Some customers have issues with the colour but this guy is really the best on the market right now for dogs like great danes. It’s tough, light weight, machine washable and there’s a squeaker inside.”

He snatches it off the shelf, his eyes on you before they drop to the elephant and his lips tip up in a small smile. You wave him after you and check him out.

“Thank you,” he says, just as gruffly as before and you smile a goodbye. He turns, then pauses before turning back to you. Clearing his throat once more, he nabs a pen from the pen cup beside your till and your hand in one move. Quick as a flash, you feel the end of the pen tickling over your skin and you look down to see a number forming.

“Text me,” he says before rushing out the door in a flurry of movement, stealing your pen in the process.

Something about his voice at the end there, vaguely familiar.

i assume i’ll be writing another part but i also might not, my mind is a fickle SNAKE

Edit: Part 1.5 is noted above but here’s part 2!

[heyyyharry]

My Girl Series: Chapter 9 - Bambi

…in which the little girl next door isn’t so little anymore.

Series description: Y/N falls in love with the older boy next door who doesn’t feel the same, years later they meet again at a funeral.

AU: actor!harry, older!harry, younger!y/n; (4-year age gap)

Chapter 8: Without The Love - Harry wants what he shouldn’t, and now he cannot leave.

Warning: smut (yes guys, finally), and also mistakes because my eyesight got blurry after going through 7k words lmao.

wattpad link

.

"But boys don't like little girls."

"That's not true. I'm a boy and I like you."

"You do?!"

"Of course I do. You're my girl."

With a faint smile, fifteen-year-old Harry headed back to his front porch. He thought about the look on Y/N's face when he called her his girl, oh how happy she must've felt, and that made him feel special too. As the boy sat back down with his study group, his eyes still followed the girl until she was finally out of sight.

"Are you dating an eleven-year-old?" The fat kid named Brian said, pulling Harry's attention back to the skeptical stares everyone in the circle was giving him. They all cracked up at that one question, causing the poor boy to shift uncomfortably in his spot.

"She's just my neighbor," he said, but nobody seemed convinced.

"I think she has a crush on you," said the pretty blonde sitting right in front of him. When she pressed her lips into a smile, Harry swore that his heart might've just skipped a beat.

Her name was Kathy — the most beautiful girl in school. Earlier that year, there had been rumors going around that she secretly liked Harry a lot, but she hadn't found the courage to ask him out yet. And frankly, who wouldn't want to receive attention from such a beautiful girl? So when she assumed that his little friend might have a crush on him, he couldn't let her believe that was true, not even for a second.

"I think she only sees me as her big brother," he reassured Kathy.

Another smile formed on her lips as she combed her fingers through her golden locks.

"Trust me, I know when a girl likes a boy," she said, batting her eyelashes at Harry, who could only hope it wasn't obvious how red he had become.

"Dude," another kid spoke up, gaining everyone's attention at once, but he was only talking to Harry. "That kid was so excited to tell you about her first period. Talk about being obsessive! I can see her hanging your photos everywhere in her bedroom."

Everyone burst out laughing at what that boy had just said, everyone including his crush. So even though Harry didn't find any humor in the mean joke, he cracked a nervous grin. He felt so guilty afterwards though; if his Bambi had been there and they had said those words to her face, he might've reacted differently. But she wasn't there, Kathy was, leaving him no other choice but to play along.

When Harry looked up and met Kathy's blue eyes, she gave him a shrug as if to tell him to just ignore his friends. But how could he when they were all laughing at him? For a teenage boy, having a good reputation mattered a lot; and without a doubt, having a lot of friends was more important than having a real one. So those simple words the other kids had said caused him to overthink for the rest of the day. And from that day, the way he saw his little neighbor had also changed.

All of a sudden, he felt like it was inappropriate for a fifteen-year-old to spend that much time with an eleven-year-old. First off, people would make fun of him. Second, girls like Kathy would assume he wasn't mature enough for them. It was such a shame that both of those reasons were about him, and not Y/N. He didn't bother to think about how it would make her feel when he decided to keep his distance with her.

At that point, Harry didn't know how much he would regret it later on.

.

.

.

Checking his watch for the third time or so, Harry leaned back against the car, sighing as he looked up. He tried to find the window on the fifth floor that was Y/N's bedroom only to see if her light was on. It showed just how impatient he was getting. Fifteen minutes more and he began to fear that she might've forgotten about their "date" to the musical. So he decided to send a quick text to make sure she remembered. It didn't take more than a second for the word seen to appear and three dots to pop up in the chat box.

⌲ Bambi: The show starts at 9. It's only 7PM now?

Shit. He thought to himself and quickly opened the photo of the tickets she'd sent. She was right. He was too excited to see her that he thought the show started one hour earlier. Embarrassed, Harry quickly wrote her another text.

⌲ Sorry. But I'm here anyway so can I come up?

⌲ Bambi: Wait. I'll be right down with you.

⌲ Bambi: Btw, park your car somewhere. We'll walk.

Y/N suggested that they go for a drink first and then to the theater. He hadn't seen her so excited in a long time, she talked and laughed a lot. It wasn't her everyday personality but he thought he liked that side of her, he liked it a lot.

They walked side by side, two meters apart, him having both hands in his pockets and her with her arms folded to hold onto herself. Those defensive gestures might keep them from running into each other's embrace, yet it didn't stop their thoughts from wandering way too far from reality. He took a glance at her and turned away as she did the same. They had been walking for five minutes without exchanging a single word, and the silence had become way too suffocating.

"Why is this street so dark?" Harry finally spoke as he looked around and realized there was no one else but the two of them. The moon was nowhere to be seen, and the only source of light there was a dim streetlamp which went on and off every second.

Harry had checked the weather forecast before leaving his house and it said there was a 70% chance of rain that night. No wonder the stars in the sky were nonexistent, same as the moon, they were all hidden under thick blankets of dark clouds.

Not answering Harry's question, Y/N walked fast forward, taking a turn into an alley as she nodded her head, giving him signal to hurry along. She told him they couldn't take the direct route to the bar because it would be suicidal to walk down the street together at London's most busy hour. When they went out for dinner with her father and Marcy, they had tried to be as lowkey as they could've, but somehow still ran into his fans. This time, they had to be even more secretive, though it was admittedly tiring to literally hide in the dark.

"Do you always walk that far when you're out with a girl?" Y/N pointed out, making Harry realize he was keeping a considerable distance from her.

"Yeah, well, I don't even hold hands on a date unless it's for PR."

"Sucks to be you." She laughed. But he agreed. It sucked to be him sometimes.

In silence, Harry followed the girl as they walked along the rough cobbled road that caused his feet to ache. The abandoned blocks on both sides were tight together and loomed over the pair, creating an illusion that the alleyway was longer and more narrow than it actually was. The sounds of their footsteps ricochetted from one wall to the other, somehow causing his heart to beat in sync with his steady paces.

In the half light of the alley, his Bambi appeared so small. To answer the question in his head, she broke the silence, "I don't usually take this route when I go out alone at night."

"Good." He breathed out a heavy chuckle, feeling relieved. "I meant to ask."

They carried on walking, taking a few more turns. All those narrow streets looked almost the same, all dark and grey, causing Harry to think if Y/N had left him there to walk back on his own, he would've spent the rest of his life searching for the way out.

"We're almost there," she assured him.

Soon he noticed the yellow beams of the only lamppost ahead, and Y/N sighed in relief as she pointed to the metal door at the end of the road, saying that was the back entrance of the bar. She walked in without hesitation, pulling Harry along, so he assumed she had been there plenty of times before.

The place was hundreds of conversations told in loud voices, all mixed up with the loud rock song blasting on the speaker which nobody really paid attention to. Y/N made her way through the sweaty bodies, making sure her fingers stayed locked around Harry's wrist as they headed straight towards the counter to order some drinks.

"Andrew!"

"Little girl!" The big fat bartender laughed loudly when he spotted her face in the crowd. "I can hardly recognize you when you're sober."

Y/N rolled her eyes as she huffed and pulled a chair to sit down, telling Harry to do the same. It took the actor a moment to figure out why Andrew and everything there looked so familiar. That was the same bar he'd come to pick her up when she was shit-faced on that counter and threw up all over his shoes. He opened his mouth to speak, yet was interrupted by the loud bearded man.

"Glad to see you two back together again," said the man while looking at Harry. "The last time you broke up, she literally turned my bar into her second home."

"But we never dated."

"Don't fool me, little girl." Andrew scoffed, pointing a finger at Y/N. "If your pretty boyfriend hadn't come save your ass, I would've tossed you out on the street that night."

Harry and Y/N exchanged funny looks in silence. Instead of trying to explain, they just let Andrew believe what he wanted to believe and ordered a pint of beer for each.

Most of the people at that bar were blue-collar workers and middle-aged men who'd had too much to drink to remember who they were, let alone recognize movie star Harry Styles sitting just a few feet away from them. For the first time in the longest time, Harry finally felt like he was invisible and he actually loved the feeling of it. It seemed like Y/N was the only one there who knew him, and he felt free to drink as much as he liked and laughed as hard as he wanted. They sat and talked about life, his movies, her job at the library, and many other things that mattered to them. Then it was finally 8:30, they paid for the drinks and said goodbye to Andrew so as to get to the show on time.

Once again, the pair took the same dark route they had before, but this time instead of walking far apart, she had her arm around his waist and his on her shoulders. They were singing random songs out loud, knowing the only creatures they might disturb on that abandoned street were the rats and cockroaches in the sewers. But their ignorance didn't get to last for too long. As they took the final turn to get back to the main street, Harry immediately spotted a familiar face.

Under the lamppost stood a man, tall and slim, with a cigarette between his lips. He was too busy talking on the phone with someone to notice them. So Harry grabbed Y/N by the arms and pulled her back into the dark alleyway. She intended to ask when he pressed her against the wall, but with a finger to his lips, he signaled her to stay silent. Slowly, he poked his head out to check on the stranger, making Y/N frown in confusion.

"That man out there works for an online magazine that write gossip about celebrities," he whispered, now turning back to her, one hand resting on the wall by her head, the other on her neck. "Maybe we should wait a bit for him to leave. Can't let him see us together."

Y/N pressed her lips into a firm line, nodding her head to let him know she got it. She fought him a lot, so it was nice to see her listen to him even just for once. And she looked too cute for him to feel unfortunate that they got stuck in that situation.

For a moment, he got lost in the hues of her eyes. He told himself to stay calm, still couldn't fight the urge to caress her lips with his thumb. He thought about chewing on them if she would just let him kiss her. But knowing her, he didn't have much hope for getting a taste of those lips anytime soon.

Just as a drop of crystal-clear water appeared on his skin, Harry quickly lifted both hands above Y/N's head to shield her from the raindrops coming down. She gave him a smile, as if the thought of a rain excited her as it used to when she was a child. He watched her beam grow, unable to stop one from forming upon his face. However, the drops became heavier really soon. Harry poked his head out of the alleyway once again, but the annoying reporter was still standing there because he was safe with the roof above his head. Harry sighed in frustration, but Y/N only giggled. The sound of her laugh eased his mind as he stepped closer, almost sandwiching her between his body and the brick wall so the rain couldn't drench all of her, at least not as much as it was doing to him.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, their faces so close that even with the sound thunder, he could still hear her breath get caught in her throat. Y/N cupped his face, wiping the wet strands out of his forehead. Her eyelids flutter as she stared at the droplets running down his pink lips.

"Why are you sorry?" She asked, laughing nervously when her body shivered from the cold. Even though it was pointless at this point to shield her from the downpour, Harry still kept one arm above her head, his other tightened the grip on her waist.

"I ruined our date."

"Our date?"

"Oh, fuck...I mean..." He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head and laughing lowly. "Shit. Never mind."

Y/N said nothing. The girl couldn't come up with anything to speak so she pulled him in. The water ran down their faces to where their lips collided. Neither seemed to care as they tasted the cold drops against the tips of their tongues. Harry pushed his lips in more firmly, and the intoxicating wave running through him caused his head to spin in circles. There was something so heavenly about a kiss in the rain, a tender yet intense moment that just wouldn't wait. The couple melted into each other, letting the water soak through to chill their skin, like a rebellion act against nature.

The universe could bring the storm, but the sunshine within could come through just as strong.

.

.

.

When Harry pulled his car over in front of his house, his first instinct was to look up at the highest window next door to check if Y/N had gone to bed yet. It was almost midnight then but he could still see her shadow pacing back and forth inside her room, and so he assumed she must've waited until the last minute to prepare for an exam again.

"What is it?" Spoke the girl sitting in the passenger seat, as she leaned over to see what her date was looking at, and why he was smiling. Harry just straight off told Kathy that it was nothing, and got out to come open the door for her. His mum was already asleep, so he asked Kathy to be quiet as he took her hand and led her into his house. The teenagers headed straight to the backyard, where they could be alone and didn't have to worry about waking up Anne.

Turning on the fairy lights on the porch, Harry set up two chairs looking out to the garden, and asked his date to sit down with him. But that wasn't what Kathy had in mind. Her attention was on something else. With a smile she pointed to the big tree standing right by the fence, and asked him, "is that your treehouse?"

"Yeah. My dad built it," he answered.

Harry almost included 'before he left', but he didn't think Kathy was ready to hear about his family drama when it was just their first date.

"Let's go up there."

"Go up there?" Harry widened his eyes at her suggestion, yet the girl already seemed so excited.

"Yeah. I wanna see your treehouse." She giggled and leaned in to study his facial expression, probably wondering why he seemed so unsure. "Do you have secrets that you don't want me to know?" Kathy joked, laughing slightly, but Harry only shook his head as a response. "Or am I not special enough?"

"You are, you are special," he said fast, laughing nervously.

Without a doubt, he liked Kathy very much. He would be insane if he didn't, because she was the definition of perfect. She was beautiful, and sweet, and smart, like the main girl in those romantic movies he'd watched and books he'd read. And to have someone popular and pretty like her as a girlfriend was certainly a dream come true. However, nobody else had entered that treehouse but him and Y/N. It wasn't just his treehouse, it was theirs. So even though Y/N was studying in her room and wouldn't be able to see him bring Kathy to their fort, he felt guilty about it still.

"I'm too exhausted to climb all the way up there," he lied. But Kathy just breathed out a laugh and took his wrist as she told him he was just lazy.

"Come on, Harry. Let's go," she urged him, pulling the boy with her before he could come up with another way to say no. And Harry didn't make an effort to stop her then. He let her get on the robe ladder first and followed right after to make sure she didn't fall. When they finally got up there, he switched on the lightbulb and stepped aside for his date to enter the world that was initially just his and Y/N's.

"Wow, 'do not enter'. Trying to be badass, huh?" Kathy giggled as she read the messy handwriting on the door. Little did she know, it wasn't Harry's.

The girl took a look around the tiny space, observing every little corner that belonged to her date's childhood, everything that used to matter a lot, or still mattered to him. It didn't take her too long to spot four simple words carved onto the back entrance.

"Y/N and Harry only?" She squinted her eyes, and turned to give Harry a questioning look. "Is Y/N that little girl who lives next door to you?"

"Yup." He shrugged, shoving both hands into his pants pockets. "This used to be our treehouse."

Used to. Harry couldn't believe he'd said that. If Y/N was there, she would be so upset, and the thought of it made him feel terrible.

"Our?" Kathy playfully stuck out her bottom lip, pouting as she said, "so I'm not the first girl you brought here?"

"She's just a kid." He chuckled, shaking his head, and the smile soon returned to Kathy's face. Slowly, she walked up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and Harry felt his heart racing faster as his arms finally tightened around her small waist. Their foreheads rested against each other; and he let himself get carried away by the deep blue of her eyes.

"Sit. I have something for you." He sat down on the floor, pulling her down with him and reached out to grab the dusty guitar he'd left in the corner for too long. The last time he picked it up was when his Bambi asked him to play her a song. Of course he didn't mention it to Kathy, so the girl assumed she was the first and only girl he'd ever sung to.

The sad truth was, she wasn't even his first love, or even his love. She was just a girl he had a crush on at seventeen, the age at which not everyone could tell the difference between love and physical attraction. Harry and Kathy had their first kiss that night in the treehouse, but a few months later, they called it off because their feelings just weren't the same anymore. After the breakup, they never spoke to each other again, and it didn't take Harry too long to erase most memories he had with her.

But somehow, he couldn't do the same to the little girl he had abandoned.

.

.

.

The rain came in waves, splattering across the pavement and beating down on every hard surface. Soon the entire city had been hidden by silver sheets of water. As pedestrians dashed for cover, the hiss of car tires on glistening roads was competing with the wild howling of the wind. The scene was pure madness. But right there, in Harry's car, was the opposite of what was happening outside in the pouring rain.

He kissed her and the world fell away. Their heavy breaths had fogged up all the windows, obscuring the movements of two soaked body in the backseat of the steamy vehicle. She was sitting on his lap, grinding against the hard bulge under his wet jeans, earning a heavy groan that got stuck in his throat when he tossed his head back. His fingers pressed hard onto the exposed skin above the waistband of her tennis skirt.

"That man took too long to leave," she moaned into his mouth, hands hiking up his shirt as she was desperate for some skin contact. The thin fabric of her panties didn't really do its job because he could feel her heat burning through all those layers and knew she wasn't just dripping from the rain. It was killing him to not tear off her clothes and take her right there. He desperately wanted to, he knew she wanted him to. His mind tried to reason with him that once they'd had sex, they could never go back. But now she was moaning his name non-stop as he was sucking on her neck, it was impossible for them to stop at this point.

"We can't...not here." His breath hitched up as he clung to her hips, trying to push her away, but she grasped his neck harder, forcing him to open his eyes and look into hers. The look she was giving him could melt him into the puddle that had already formed on the leather seat because of their drenched clothes.

"Want you now," she begged, hot mouth sucking the spot right below his ear, causing him to moan out, and the sound to Y/N was just like a ballad made from heaven.

"Bambi-" She cut him off by kissing his lips. He kissed back, both hands moving to her neck and hair.

"Want you to fuck me," she whispered, pouting like a little girl, but now he knew she wasn't one anymore. "Don't you want that? To fuck me?"

"I do, fuck, I do." Harry loved and hated her dirty mouth at the same time, but he still managed to use a fraction of self-control he'd got left to reason with her, as well as himself.

"Just...don't want our first time to...god...to be like this. Not here." He tossed his head back when she kissed his jawline, neck, and collarbone. "Let's get you home." He shook his head, one arm squeezing her torso, but she only kissed him harder, leaving him breathless. "Baby, be good."

Y/N's lips curved into a smile as she heard that nickname. That was the first time he'd ever called her "baby" and she almost begged him to never stop repeating that word.

"Shh." She brought her finger up to his lips and kissed them again, before pulling away a bit so she wouldn't forget to breathe. "Don't worry about me. I've done this before."

"Fuck. No need to remind me that." He released a rough groan when she bit his earlobe, trying not to think about all the other men who had felt what he was feeling then. Their breathing then became rough and fast as she tugged on his shirt, and finally pulling it over his head to do the same to her sweater. She didn't have her bra on, so Harry's eyes nearly fell out when he saw her bare chest for the first time.

There was a vulnerability in Y/N's eyes as she felt him gazing at her naked form. With that look on his face, it almost felt like Harry had just seen a woman's breasts for the first time in his life, so she couldn't help but giggle lowly. His eyes didn't linger too long there, just enough for her to know how beautiful she was to him. She was literally trembling when she took his hand and placed it on one breast. He squeezed it gently, feeling the softness of her skin which was turning warm under his palm. One hand at the back of his neck, she urged his face down. Soon he opened his mouth and gently suckled, causing his name to spill out from her mouth, mixing up with wet moans that got his jeans tightened even more.

She was his drug. All it took was one touch and the intoxication was instant. Her scent became more prominent in the tiny space of his backseat and the fragranced hot air got all the blood in his body rushing to one body part.

Before they knew how it happened, they were both naked and their bodies were moving softly together as if they were one. Their tongues entwined in a sloppy kiss when he was finally inside, changing her breathing with every hard thrust as if her moans fueled him to go harder and deeper.

"No...don't...Bambi, look at me." He held her face to demand eye contact, not slowing down as she begged him not to. She struggled to keep her eyes open but never gave into the temptation to get carried away all at once. He watched her face twist with pleasure as his lips parted, hands guiding her hip to move her faster ontop of him.

"Feels good."

"Yea—Yeah? " He furrowed his brows as she did the same, clutching his hair a bit tighter.

"More." She moaned, nodding fast, not to look anywhere else but his green eyes.

"Such a good girl for me. Almost there, baby. C'mon," he coaxed her, capturing her mouth with his own and she caught him by surprise by nipping his bottom lip between her teeth. He was weak for her, entirely defeated under her. If she wanted him to beg, he would, as long as she promised to never stop until they both came undone.

When it happened, Y/N almost forgot how to breathe. She slammed one hand against the foggy window on her side, arching her back when he pounded into her. She couldn't care less if her scream could break the glass as she tossed her head back and dug her nails into his back. Harry released into the condom just a few seconds after her as he finally slowed down and kissed her hard on the lips. The stayed there, panting until they caught our breaths, sweaty foreheads against one another.

It was insane how they managed to get back to her flat, let alone strip each other down again once they had entered the living room. This time, he took her hard against her bedroom wall, still in their dripping clothes, too aroused to care or even make it to the bed. After the third orgasm that followed right after her second, Harry had to catch Y/N's limb body before she collapsed and carried her to the shower. They just stood there leaning onto each other for support, her head on his chest as he washed her hair, letting the warm water run down their flushed skin to wash the rain water, sweat, and the smell of sex all down the drain.

It wasn't until they had returned to the bedroom and began drying off that realization sank back in for both. They just stood there, staring at one another in silent. Harry had only a towel wrapped around his waist now that his clothes were all wet. And Y/N was wearing just a t-shirt big and long enough to look like a dress on her. The feeling was strange, yet new, and exciting.

It was Y/N who took the first steps forward, closing the distance between them two to hug him tight. Without saying a word, he did the same, sniffing in the apple scent of her still soaked hair.

"Stay the night," she said at last. And he happily nodded, squeezing her warm body tight.

.

.

.

Harry had been pacing back and forth for nearly a minute before he finally gained enough courage to ring on his neighbor's doorbell. The boy blew air through his mouth, hollowing up his cheeks as he heard footsteps coming his way. And when the door opened, it wasn't the fourteen-year-old he was there to see, it was her mother. Tam Y/L/N greeted the boy next door with a casual, yet heart-warming smile.

"Harry, look how grown you are! I haven't seen you around in so long," she said. He already knew that it'd been a while since he last came here, but to hear it from someone else made him feel worse somehow. "I heard you got the scholarship that you wanted. Your mother must be so proud."

"Thank you, Mrs. Y/L/N...Is Y/N home?"

"Yeah, she's upstairs. Want me to call her for you?"

"No." He stopped her just as she turned away. "Uhm...I'm leaving tomorrow. I think I should let her know. Can you tell her that for me?"

"Sweetie..." The corners of Tam's lips sank into a frown. "She doesn't even know about the scholarship."

Right. Of course she didn't know. The last time they talked was a year ago when she asked him to take her to that concert but he refused. He couldn't believe it had been that long. They had been two strangers for a year now, so to see her again and tell her he was gonna leave Holmes Chapel and wasn't sure when and if he was ever coming back would make him seem like a jerk. So even though Harry's initial intention when he rang the doorbell was to talk to her in person, but now the thought of it scared him a lot. Harry stood there, stuttering in front of her mother, trying to come up with an excuse so she would help him out by breaking this news to Y/N.

But the woman spoke before he could, "Harry, you know her. If she hears this from me she'll assume she doesn't matter to you." Then came a pause. "Do you care about her?"

He didn't answer that inquiry. But he didn't have to.

"Then I think you should tell her yourself. She really misses you," Tam said, giving the eighteen-year-old boy another smile.

She was right. Even though he had been keeping distance with Y/N for that long, he couldn't walk away knowing she would hate him and think she didn't mean anything to him. After all, she was still the girl he'd got into a fight for and risked getting sick as he walked in the rain to keep her safe. Even if his head told him she didn't matter, his heart knew she did.

After a moment, he finally nodded, and Tam didn't hesitate to turn her head and shouted upstairs,"Y/N, Harry is here to see you!"

"Wait," he spoke after a second thought. "Can you...can you tell her to meet me at our treehouse?"

"Sure, love," the woman said without asking why.

Harry thanked her and walked away quickly before Y/N came down and saw his face. He needed time to think about how to break the news without breaking her heart, and maybe his own.

It had been so long since he last visited their treehouse, and it was quite embarrassing how he had to struggle at first because he'd forgotten how to climb. He sat there on the floor like the night they first met, but this time he was nervous because he knew she was coming.

Harry turned his head as soon as he heard Y/N's voice at the entrance. He got up from the dusty wooden floor, smiling at the girl. Her eyes were still as bright as he remembered. He'd never told her, but all the emotions she was trying to hide always showed through her big eyes and gave away what she was actually feeling. But this time, it was hope that he saw in them. And he knew the goodbye was gonna be twice as hard as how he'd imagined it would be.

They sat down side by side on the edge of their little house with bare feet dangling in the air, listening to the cricket singing their summer song. He knew he was going to miss this, he was going to miss Holmes Chapel, and mostly he was going to miss her. Y/N seemed pretty quiet that night, so Harry had to initiate a conversation, asking her about school, about Celine, about her parent's constant fights. He also filled her in with most of the things that had happened to her in the past year, and kept her updated on his sister and his mum.

But eventually, he must say what he was there to say, "I'm leaving tomorrow morning. To London."

From the way her body stiffened as she heard those words, Harry had expected a different reaction from his little neighbor. However, she only laughed and asked him if he was joking. He wished it had been a joke, then it wouldn't have killed him to say it out loud. He told her about the scholarship, about being accepted into his dream school, and now he could finally follow his dream to become a famous actor. But she was quiet the whole time. He didn't know what she was thinking, he never did.

"I'll come back and visit you next summer," he said, not even sure if he could stay true to those words. But at least they would ease her mind. "I wanted to see you one last time before I left...Bambi, say something."

His Bambi turned to look at him with glistening eyes, and he silently begged her not to dissolve into tears because he wouldn't know what to do. But knowing Y/N, he was sure that she wouldn't allow herself to cry in front of him now that he was basically just a familiar stranger.

"I'm really happy for you, H," she said at last, putting on a smile. So he smiled back at her, reaching out to tuck a strand behind her ear. He told her to be strong when he wasn't around, and take care of herself, though she'd been doing just fine without him in the past year. And deep down, he hoped she would find a boy who wouldn't mind getting a black eye to make her happy. He couldn't be that boy, not anymore.

"This treehouse is all yours now," he told her. "Please look after it?"

"I will," she gave him her words. From the determination written on her face, he knew she would keep her promise, and somehow that made him happy. Maybe because he knew she didn't hated him like he assumed she would.

It was getting late, and he had to catch a train before sunrise. So Harry said his last goodbye to his little neighbor, telling her that they both should get some rest. But instead of letting him go, she cut him off just as he tried to say something else. "Harry...Can I ask you for one last favor?"

"Anything, kid. Tell me."

"Can you...Uhm...Will you..." She exhaled deeply and took his hand in hers. "Will you be my first kiss?"

The grin slowly faded from his face when he realized she was actually serious. "I don't think I should be your first kiss, Bambi. You should save it for the boy you like."

"But you...are the boy I like."

Harry was surprised to hear those words, yet not really. A part of him had always known she'd had a crush on him, but he assumed it would just disappear into thin air real soon. But after a year of acting like they didn't know each other, how could she still call him the boy she liked?

He wanted to lighten up the mood without hurting her feelings, yet he struggled to come up with what to say. But Y/N was impatient as always. She couldn't wait for a reply, probably because she knew she would never get one. So she just followed her instinct and cupped his face to bring her lips to his, only to pull away a second later. It was barely what one would call a kiss, but Harry was in shock and he couldn't even flinch. A fourteen-year-old had just kissed him on the lips. How could he possibly react in this situation? So he chose not to react.

He just sat there and watched her run back to the rope ladder. And the next moment she was gone, for good this time. He didn't think too much about the kiss even though it did put him in shock. But maybe it was for the best if her last memory of him was their moment on the treehouse and not him leaving her without saying goodbye. At least now he knew she wouldn't hate him forever.

She had been a big part of his childhood, and would always be a part of him. So as Harry watched her run back to her house, he truly hoped if they never met again, she would keep him in her memory if not in her heart.

For him, he would also do the same.

.

.

.

Harry woke up in the middle of the night, reaching for the warm body lying next to him, only to find the bed cold and empty. In an instant, he became frantic, thinking Y/N had gone. But it took him a second to calm down and remember he was at her place, not his. The girl hadn't even left the bed. She was just sitting up, holding her knees to her chest and staring at the window. She stayed very still when he crawled to her side.

"Bambi?" His voice was dreadfully quiet. "Are you...Why are you crying, love?" The left side of his chest ached when he saw a tear running down from the corner of her eyes. Slowly she turned to look at him, her lips trembled and her shoulders heaved with emotion when he pulled her to his chest.

"Is it because of me?" He sadly questioned, assuming it must be him. Maybe he shouldn't have been too rough when they had sex, maybe she regretted sleeping with him, maybe she was gonna tell him to leave and never see her again. His whole body tensed up in fear thinking all of those maybes could be true. But eventually, she shook her head no.

"I forgot my cup of tea," she whispered.

That answer left him confused. "Your cup of tea?"

Y/N nodded, staying utterly lifeless in his arms. "It keeps me from having nightmares."

"Is that why you always drink tea before bed?"

"Hmm," she hummed and buried her face into his chest, inhaling his cent as if to remind herself that she'd still got him. After a moment of silence and ragged breathing, she told him, "I saw my mum. She was standing right by a car. But before I could get to her, the car exploded, and all that was left was fire and smoke and the sound of my own screams..."

"Shh." He stroked her hair, pressing butterfly kisses to her forehead. It was then that he realized she was clinging to the locket he'd given her, somehow it put him at ease knowing his birthday gift could lend her some kind of emotional support when she felt afraid. "Want me to make you a cup of tea, love?"

"No. Just...don't let me go."

"Alright."

Harry laid her back down, this time with her back to his chest. When they clasped each other in a warm hug, Y/N could finally be calm enough to listen to the sound of the gentle night rain outside, feeling his chest rising and falling against her back, their breaths in unison.

For a second, Harry wished they could share their hearts as easily as sharing their body heat. He couldn't remember the last time he let another get close to him like this, but Y/N was special; though at the same time, being with her felt like carrying a time bomb. One wrong move and he was a goner, yet every time she tried to leave, it was him who convinced her to stay.

"I'll go to the wedding with you." Her voice pierced right through the silence of the room, causing his eyes to fly open. Y/N thought he didn't hear her, so she repeated the sentence once more, adding, "if your offer still stands."

"It does." He chuckled hoarsely. "What changed your mind though?"

"Thought I should stop running away from reality." That was her answer, nothing more. He didn't really get what she actually meant, but he didn't think she wanted him to ask, so he decided to let it go.

"When are you gonna leave?" She asked.

"Not tonight. I'm staying tonight."

Harry wasn't sure if when she said "leave", she meant him leaving her flat before she woke up, or him leaving her for good. But it didn't really matter. That answer would do for both meanings. Because no matter what happened to them in the future, he knew it wasn't gonna end tonight.

"Good," Y/N murmured with a tiny sigh, making Harry chuckle. His eyes gradually slipped closed, and a few minutes later, he went limp.

[nadineselfships-archived]

The Scorpion & The Frog

A/n: so I went overboard with whatever this is because I’m obsessed with @space-sweetheart​ and Michael now ajdjfjf I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO CALL THIS BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ALEXYS HHHH-

• When Michael’s men brought you to him he was perplexed, they’d found you wandering the Mountains but he knew he’d never seen you in Hope Country before

• He didn’t see you as any threat, you were small and didn’t really look like you could use a gun

• So he did what he normally does when things occur and asked Remiel what to do about you

• She told him that he should keep an eye on you, seeing as you managed to get here without anyone noticing they were both intrigued

• And so Michael agrees, if not a bit annoyed to become a babysitter for an outsider

• But Michael takes keeping an eye on you to the next level so the next thing you know you’re by his side 24/7

• He takes you from his bunker to his ranch and begrudgingly shows you the guest room you’d be staying in

• He doesn’t bother locking any doors because if you do run off he knows he’ll be able to find you

��� His hearing may be bad and his limp makes hunting stealthily a tad more difficult but he’s nothing if not persistent

• Also you seem pretty content being with him for the most part, if not intimidated and wary of him, as is only normal

• The first few weeks having you with him is strange for him, he’s used to doing everything alone but now suddenly he has this soft little lady at his back that he needs to watch out for

• You are a lot more help then his men he notices, you point out things you hear that he can’t so well and pick things up off the floor so he won’t trip over it

• He’d be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate it

• You don’t get in his way and you don’t prattle his ear off like most people and he appreciates that too

• He falls in front of you once, you’re in the Mountains going to check on a trap he laid down when his knee gives out

• He hits the ground hard but luckily the ground you’re on is mostly flat so he doesn’t roll anywhere, it was a bitch when that happened

• His pride is hurt more than he is, he can feel the embarrassment of looking weak in front of his supposed captive wash over him like a hot fire

• You step closer but he sees you hesitate, he knows no one willingly tries to get close to them if they can help it

• He contemplates his options before deciding the least humiliating one would be for you to help him up

• So sucking up the last bit of pride he has he turns to look up at you, his usually cold green eyes tinted with pain and embarrassment, and reaches his hand out to you

• “You gonna stand there staring at me all day or are you gonna help me up?”

• He doesn’t talk about it after that and you don’t talk about how he leant on you for support the rest of the walk

• It’s probably after that when he begins to pay more attention to you

• Noticing just how long your hair is and how the sunlight hits it and makes it look so soft

• How your eyes light up with your smile, a smile that was doing a good job of knocking the air out of Michael’s lungs whenever he saw it

• His eyes trace your figure a little more often than he’s proud to admit

• You’re so kind, Michael notices, so soft and sweet to the people you interact with

• Even to him, which baffles him at the best of times

• He’s so convinced that he’s a monster, a broken soldier that couldn’t even protect his family

• He knows he’s cruel, he knows he’s dangerous

• But when you gently take his hand for the first time to steady him when you notice him wobble unsteadily, he feels soft

• His heart aches in a beautiful way and his skin ignites where you touched him, he betrays himself by indulging in the feeling greedily

• You get more comfortable with each other and Michael let’s you wander off on your own

• You’ve walked around the mountains with him enough that he’s confident you won’t get lost as easily

• You’re stake on his ranch has grown from the guest room and a bathroom to most of the living space available

• It was a rough change, getting used to having someone in the ranch with him

• He’d snapped at you a few times in the beginning, his hearing made it easy to accidentally sneak up on him even if you weren’t meaning too

• He’d always regret snapping afterwards, seeing the flash of fear in your eyes made his stomach churn and he quickly learnt how to tell when you were coming so as to avoid being surprised by you

• Michael is happy to have you more comfortable in his ranch in the later days, waking up to you in the kitchen is a heavenly sight and he lingers in the doorway to admire you longer than he’d admit

• He also catches himself admiring your sleeping face longer than he’d admit if you fall asleep on the couch

• He realises he may be in love with you when he spots you near the Henbane River talking to a cult member

• They’re being friendly, everyone already aware you’re under Michaels care at that point

• It should be fine, Michael shouldn’t feel a burning rage in his veins as he watches you smile that beautiful smile at them

• Or want to snap their neck as they make you laugh that angelic laugh that makes Michael’s heart race when he hears it

• Michael tries to brush it off, he’s not a good enough man to deserve having you as his after all

• But this doesn’t stop him from glaring holes into the souls of whoever so much as looks at you

• It starts to grate on him really bad so he takes his favourite leather jacket and wraps it around your shoulders one day

• Your confused gaze is infuriatingly adorable and Michael has to clear his throat before he can speak

• “It’s getting cold, you’ll need it.”

• He’s a man of few words, especially when your looking at him wrapped up in his much too big jacket

• He’s almost giddy as people back off quite a bit when you start wearing it around

• He’s started calling you nicknames, little frog, little dove and peu d'amour are the three he uses most (did I mention he’s fluent in french and german)

• You asked him what the last one means the first time he used it but he only gazed at you softly before petting your head and walking away (it means little love, because you’re his little love uvu)

• At this point Michael has gone through all seven stages of denial and acceptance and realises he can’t keep staring at you longingly from a distance

• He doesn’t have many people to go to advice nor will he actively ask for it but James, Nadine and Remiel aren’t blind and are very happy to give their opinions on what he should do

• He goes with James idea which is a nice dinner

• He sends you out to get something from James (that he doesn’t need but needed to get you out of the ranch) and cooks up a really nice dinner

• He also decorates the table and borrows some candles from Nadine

• He even puts flowers in a vase, he’s embarrassed as all hell but when you walk in and your eyes light up he knows it was absolutely worth it

• He put on a nice button up brushed his hair, he pulls out your chair, is smiling the entire time and allows himself to give you all the compliments he’d been keeping to himself

• He’s definitely gonna kiss you, it’s been months at this point and you look so pretty in the candle light how could he not?

• You’re in the kitchen and he turns you around, He cups your face in his hands and looks you in the eye, waiting for any resistance or refusal

• When he doesn’t get it he leans in and kisses you with the passion that’s been building over time, he holds you steady and kisses you until your lips are swollen and you’re gasping for air

• It’s the first of many rough and passionate kisses, which mainly happen in the privacy of his ranch or bunker

• He’s on cloud nine, he finally gets to call you his and bare his teeth at anyone who he deems a threat

• You melt into his touch and he loses himself in yours

• He’s more confident in touching you in general, pulling you by the hem of your shirt or belt loops so he can kiss you

• Leading you by placing his hand on the small of your back

• Picking you up and carrying you whenever he feels like it

• And when he starts to feel the pricks of jealousy again he starts leaving marks along your neck and collar bone

• You get flustered when people see them but he grins smugly, proudly letting people know who you belong too

• Everyone can see Michael’s softened up because of you, he’s still a lethal threat to his enemies but he smiles more openly, genuinely

• The first time you sleep in his bed and he wakes up to your content face he nearly cries

• Michael’s cried very few times in his life but as he stroked your cheek and watched you breathe so softly beside him he teared up for sure

• He couldn’t fathom an angel like you loving a cruel beast like him and yet here you were, curled up to his side

• He made a silent vow that morning, nothing would ever harm you, no one would get the chance to touch a hair on your head, he would protect you until his last breath

• The first time you say you love him is another moment he nearly breaks down, you’re sitting on top of a mountain watching the sunset

• Your sitting in his lap with your arms wrapped around his neck and you kiss his cheek before mumbling the words into his neck

• He’s frozen from shock, he doesn’t say anything for a moment, just tightens his grip on you and rests his chin on the top of your head

• He’s never heard those words from anyone but his siblings, something about the way they sound from your lips lift a weight off of his shoulders

• He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and lifts your head so he can look you in the eye

• “I love you too.”

• He’s never meant those words more in his life and he hopes every time he says them you feel it in your heart that he means them

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 23 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: So we’re finally right before the Gala. I’m high-key proud of myself and frankly can’t believe I made it here, and yet, here I am, doing it, doing the work, every day, and feeling so fulfilled by it I can’t really describe its effect on me in words. This project has changed me fundamentally and made me confident in my ability to do what I’ve always wanted to do: write fiction. I know I’ll continue to write fiction when this story is done. I’ll continue to do it for the rest of my life. And that is profoundly moving for a person who spent the first decade of her adulthood doubting herself to an insane degree, avoiding her destiny, trying to write literally anything else because fiction scared her so much. So here’s my moment to be proud of myself! Okay, moving on. If you’re interested in more about the history of Cartier LOVE bracelets, there’s a lot about them on Wikipedia, but they indeed cannot be removed without the screwdriver. Here’s Duncan’s duffel they bring to Madeline’s. Here’s Norah Jones’ COME AWAY WITH ME, which I’ve always found to be achingly romantic. I didn’t realize Klimt had painted Athena until I was looking up some of his work for this part, and of course I had to include it in Madeline’s house, mirrored with Duncan’s own Athena--here. I grew up with the Muppets, so I gave Kenzie a Kermit. Billie really did call her grandmother, Debbie Reynolds, Abadaba. Here is the chicken and mushrooms recipe Madeline makes. Here are the Carpenters songs they listen to on the deck: WE’VE ONLY JUST BEGUN, TOP OF THE WORLD, CLOSE TO YOU (I love the Carpenters). I had so much fun writing Madeline’s dialogue. As a weed smoker,  I can vouch for the fact that it really does help dampen hangovers. I based Duncan being bullied on the fact that Cody was likewise bullied when he was in school--he talked about it a bit at his SXSW interview. Here is Kenzie’s mustard dress. Claire’s dress. I posted Kenzie’s Gala dress long ago when I first found it (right after I started writing B&S and realized there was a novels-worth of stuff Duckenzie wanted to tell me), and here I finally got a chance to describe it, which was wonderful, cuz I been waitin’. The real version is by Hamda Al Fahim, an incredible Emirati designer who makes exquisitely beautiful fairy-tale-esque gowns. This blazer was my main inspiration for Duncan’s--it’s not quite as nice as his is, but you get the idea (it’s also something like this Saint Laurent velvet blazer, but without those light lapels). His collar tips are something like this, but much fancier and more intricate, and made of real gold. I am so fucking proud of this chapter. As ever, if you’re reading and enjoying the fic, your comments, reblogs, likes and asks and edits mean everything to me.

“Just out of curiosity, what’s your first memory? Your first memory of her.”

Duncan had known in that moment, in fact. He clutched Kenzie’s hand in the backseat of the BMW as Samuel drove them towards Arlington and Madeline, obsessing over the conversation with Claire Underwood for the hundredth time that day, his tears dried now but his mind in no less chaos. I knew even then. As soon as she asked me. As I’ve always known, somewhere in the back of my mind, hidden deep in my psyche. I’ve always known that there was something about me that didn’t fit against Annette Shepherd. That there were parts of me far more hidden than I ever dreamed. And I’m not a fucking Shepherd. I don’t know who the fuck I am.

Kenzie was running her soft little fingers through his, the pad of her thumb crooked into the dip of his hand, and he could feel her face turning to him, glancing at him with worried, bright eyes. He ached at her worry; ached at the sadness that waved out from her onto him, a sadness prompted by his own, a sadness he couldn’t entirely will away. The locking Cartier bracelet glinted now on her wrist pressed against him--its gold and diamonds caught the falling neon lights outside, the street lamps. The other bracelet, of solely solid gold, was around his, and they brushed against each other, cool and smooth, their fingers twined tightly.

Kenzie had called her mother. “Momby, something’s happened--can we come see you? We’ll tell you everything when we get there. Yes, I’m fine. Yes, Duncan’s okay. Well, physically, he’s okay. It’s about Annette. No, she’s not hurt. It’s something else. Can we talk about it when we get there? Duncan’s just--he needs us. Yes, Momby. No. We can order pizza or something. Okay. We’ll be there in like half an hour. Momby can--can we sleep there? In my old room? Yeah. I love you to the moon and back. See you soon.” Then Kenzie had gently pressed him toward the walk-in closet, and said “Dunny, get some things to sleep at Momby’s, okay?” And he’d obeyed, feeling dazed and on the verge of tears again, pulling down one of his leather duffels, absently throwing things inside it. Nothing seemed to matter in this moment--nothing but being near Kenzie, and he felt vague panic now that she wasn’t touching him. Annette is not my mother. Who is my mother? Who the fuck am I? Oh god, baby. Oh god. But Kenzie had returned in a moment, their toothbrushes and some toiletries in her hands, and she piled them in the duffel, then added a few other things-little white lacy underwear, a mustard-colored sleeveless lace dress, her flat lacing sandals, the Tiffany moon necklace, his big black cardigan he now considered to be hers--she seemed to know Duncan wanted her things in his bag, with his, seemed to know it would comfort him, the scent of her on his clothes. She can hear me. You can hear me, baby. You know. Thank you. I love you. I’m afraid, baby. I’m scared.

As Kenzie had finished packing her things in among his, Duncan had gone out to the kitchen, remembering what he’d gotten for her, and retrieved the red Cartier boxes from the island. He’d come back to see Kenzie emerging from the closet with his duffel clutched in her hand, and she’d set it back on the floor as he handed one of the boxes to her in the quiet, fading sunlight of the bedroom, not saying anything. Kenzie had opened the box as he opened his, and her little hand had come up to clutch against her throat, her eyes clouding with tears; Duncan could already tell she’d been crying earlier (crying alone, like I was), her face puffy from the residue of them and her sleep, but it seems today is full of tears--at least these are the happy kind, I think.

“They call them love bracelets,” he’d said to her quietly. “They can only be taken off with these.” He carefully picked the little screwdriver out from the side of the inner lining of the red box that held his, and lifted it out to her, flat in his palm. Duncan’s heart ached, desperately, in this moment--I am offering only myself, aren’t I, Kenzie. All of me, but only me, my faults, my sorrows, my anger, my sense of loss, my loneliness and my confusion, my temper, my flaws. These things I offer alongside my hopes and my dreams, my love for you. But no longer the Shepherd name. That name isn’t really mine. I don’t know what my name is. I offer you the indistinct self that remains. He watched her face in the fading light; the little bob of her throat, her hands trembling. He thought, wildly--I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve your love. You’re an angel, and I’m no one.

“They’re so beautiful, Dunny. Let’s put them on each other. May I?”

He’d nodded, eyes filling with tears again, biting his lip to stop them, feeling an ache in his mind, the ache of the terribleness of this day, the ache of her acceptance, lost in his relief towards her. Kenzie had leaned up to kiss him, her eyes closed, her eyelashes casting tiny shadows on her cheeks--her mouth was terribly soft and made him moan into her with succor. Saint Mackenzie, who consoles. Her touch alone heals me--reaches down into my secret heart, and presses it to her holy mouth, her kisses sweet beyond measure.

“I love you so very much,” she had whispered, and Kenzie had set her box down on the island; lifted the gold bracelet from the box he held with one hand, the little gold screwdriver with the other, and stared at him for a moment with an expression of devotion and trust in her eyes that shook him to the core of his being. Then, she used the screwdriver to unlock the bracelet, glittering in her hands--had ever so gently linked it around his wrist, bending her head over him to lock it into place. Duncan had lifted his other hand as she did this, pressing it down the dip of her hair, feeling another wave of tears cascade from his eyes, falling freely down his cheeks, and he’d shivered, shivered with the feeling of the hand of Fate on them again. You are my Soulmate, Mackenzie Stone. You are exalted above all others in my eyes. And next to you, all others have no hold over me. Not even Annette. No one. Kenzie looked up into his eyes as the bracelet clicked closed--his face fell against hers and he kissed her again, and she had whispered “Dunny, I love you, I love you, baby, I will always love you, I’m here, oh baby, it’s okay, I love you, more than anything, I’m yours--” and he could feel himself nodding, hands coming around into her hair, lost in her comforting voice. They stood pressed together, quietly, Kenzie’s voice drifting into silence, his mouth pressing up against her forehead, her fingers running along the gold bracelet around his wrist, now tethered against him (I’ll never take it off, never) and Duncan could feel her pressing her golden comfort into his body, and the wrenching sorrow he had felt was melting away into a duller, smaller pain, a distant sting.

“Now, do me.” Kenzie’s fingers trailed over the gold around Duncan’s wrist for a moment, then she handed him the box that held her bracelet--the diamonds glittered in the low light of the drop chandelier over their heads as he opened it, and Duncan noticed, almost removed from himself, that his fingers were trembling too. He tried to grip the screwdriver and fumbled with it, almost dropped it--Kenzie had gripped his hand and steadied it, and he’d breathed out, ragged, lost in the feeling of her hand. Then he’d felt her pressing into his mind again, felt her golden comfort, and his heart was relieved, the burden lifted away from it so he could see her clearly, see how trusting she was to him in this moment, see how luminously beautiful she was in the halo of this promise, the glow of the love that drifted between them. He grasped her little wrist, sliding the unlocked bracelet onto it, and his head dipped down to press his lips against her hand. My Kenzie, more beautiful than a starry sky. My moonlight, healing every corner of me, every dark place.

His hands quieted--almost removed from them, he watched himself lock the bracelet deftly against her, hearing the tininess of the mechanism clicking into place. Then he raised his eyes to hers. He could see her lip trembling, the fall of her golden hair shimmering in the fading light. You are mine. I am yours. You are never alone as long as I am breathing in this world. And even when I’m not, my spirit cannot be parted from yours for long. You know it as I do. Beloved. Forever. Beyond time.

“Let’s go see Momby, baby.”

Now they were quiet in the backseat, Samuel having closed the partition, giving them solitude with each other. Duncan glanced down at his watch--it was just after 8, and they’d been driving for awhile, maybe 20 minutes, out of downtown and toward Madeline’s house. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but he ignored it, fingers clenching around Kenzie’s, trying to concentrate on the song that played low and soft: come away with me in the night, come away with me and I will write you a song...come away with me on a bus, where they can’t tempt us with their lies...he wished he could roll down the window and throw his phone away, let it fall over the bypass Samuel was crossing, let it disappear into thin air. I don’t care about anything and I can’t talk to anyone and I don’t want to see anybody but you and Madeline, he thought, and knew she could hear, knew she was listening as she dipped her head against his chest, warm and soft and smelling of rose and vetiver. Her thumb trailed across his palm, and where they touched she seemed to be weaving sigils of gold into his skin. I can’t help it--my heart fucking aches. I want to bury my face in your hair baby my sweet baby and cry until I can’t breathe. Cry until the tears dry up and I don’t have any left, I love you just you and you only and you are my constant comfort, my only One, what would I do without you, what would I do…

You don’t have to wonder, my Prince. I’m here. You found me. You’re safe in my arms.

Duncan couldn’t look at her--he was too close to tears again. He looked down at the bracelet on her wrist instead, fingers trailing over the gold and the glimmering diamonds, then at his, its gold steady, shining. I’ll lose the key on purpose, he thought to her. I’ll never take it off. Never. Kenzie sighed against him, and he felt the golden mixture of contentment and sadness in her--the sadness was for him, empathetic and overwhelming to him. What I feel from her is so extraordinary and so staggering in its loveliness. To feel her love for me this way is beyond all my dreams. To know its truth this way is indescribable.

And I want to walk with you on a cloudy day, in fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high, so won’t you try to come, come away with me

“I won’t let anyone take mine off me but you,” she whispered up to him, and finally he felt like smiling. “Only you, baby.” His ear had dipped down to listen to her, and her little mouth pressed against his stubbled cheek. Duncan closed his eyes, pushing the image of Claire Underwood’s expression when she told him to ask his mother where he came from out of his mind--pushing away the image of his mother walking away from him as he stood near the elevator in his uncle’s huge house (but he’s not really my uncle, is he), leaving him to the coldness of his realization, forgotten. Just be here with Kenzie right now. Forget everything else. Duncan lost himself in the drift of her scent, her softness, the golden touch of her mind--he didn’t realize the BMW had stopped, pulled up in front of a lovely brick Cape Cod-style house, warm with light from within spilling onto hydrangea bushes under the windows.

“Here we are, baby, come on,” and Kenzie was pulling him softly out of the backseat. He stood on the sidewalk, feeling dizzy; Kenzie was gripping the duffel in her hands, and he shook his head, taking it from her. She smiled at him; a smile tinged with worry. She leaned down to speak to Samuel, but Duncan felt like he was underwater, like he couldn’t hear--he gazed at Madeline’s house, still feeling dazed, as Samuel drove away and Kenzie gripped his hand again.

“Come on, baby, come on,” and she was pulling him to Madeline’s wooden front door, rapping on it insistently before digging in her satchel for her keys. Duncan turned to look out at the fading light--the sun still hadn’t quite set, and the world seemed to be bathed in a deceptively lovely glow, the quietness of the surrounding houses serene. He felt untethered from reality for a moment;  he freed a hand from the duffel’s strap to twist his fingers around Kenzie’s hair, against her back. Touching her brought immediate relief; brought him back to solid ground. Kenzie was still fumbling for her keys when the door came open--Madeline stood there, her clean linen and dark wine scent wafting out toward where he and her daughter stood on her stoop. Her glasses had dark purple frames today, and she wore a black camisole top with a black cardigan pushed up around her elbows, a long silvery necklace with a jade stone dangling down her torso, her feet bare below baggy, worn denim jeans folded up at her ankles. She pursed her lips at them, not unkindly--then she shifted her gaze intently onto him, lifted her hands to him from her scant height (she seems even smaller than Kenzie somehow, though I think they’re about the same height--like mother, like daughter, ridiculously tiny) and gestured to him, dipping her fingers out and then back towards her body.

“Come here, Duncan. Come here.”

Duncan’s eyes went misty again--Kenzie was taking the duffel back from him and he was stepping into Madeline Stone’s deeply, instantly comforting embrace, stepping into the cool cocoon of her house, out of the balmy summer evening. He had to hunch to reach her--Madeline lifted up to him, and the feeling of her was instantly soothing. Like mother, like daughter.

“Now, now.” Her voice was against his hair. “My future son-in-law. What in the world. You look like you saw your own ghost.”

Duncan fought the urge to shudder against her. How wonderful, Kenzie, to have Madeline hugs all your life. He could smell warm kitchen smells wafting towards where they stood--spices and the savoriness of chicken, pepper, garlic--Kenzie food, he realized, and his stomach rumbled, and he realized he was starving.

Madeline pulled away from him when he didn’t speak, looking up into his face again, pursing her lips, concern flitting behind her glasses. Kenzie stood on the stoop behind him, and he saw Madeline glance into her daughter’s eyes, knew she saw the worry there.

“I’m going to make you a very strong long island iced tea,” Madeline said, matter-of-factly. “And then we’re all going to sit on the deck and eat dinner. And you’re going to tell me everything. Kenzie, take that into the bedroom, okay? Show Duncan.”

Madeline stepped away from them, past a staircase near the entrance, through a living room with an oak-framed fireplace (Duncan could see the glint of Madeline’s Pulitzer on the wall), into another room he assumed must be the kitchen, where the wonderful smells were coming from. Kenzie moved past him, setting the bag down again to unbuckle her sandals and leave them on a mat by the door. Duncan leaned down to slide off his Wyatt boots, mimicking her. He stood there in Madeline’s front doorway, still feeling dazed. “Come on, baby, this way,” Kenzie said, pushing him toward the stairs, closing the door. She gripped his hand and he felt the gold bracelets on their wrists clink against each other, comfortingly--Duncan grabbed the duffel as she led him up the steps, past the first doorway (a bathroom), to one in the middle of a hall, this door shut.

Kenzie pushed it open--the interior was a sensibly furnished guest room. On the walls were several prints of Klimt paintings; Duncan was struck by them instantly, amazed that they were all from Klimt’s well-known “golden” period, including Pallas Athene (women in gold, high on Olympus, he thought again, these Stone women), reminding him of his own Athena in the penthouse living room, her head bent, her expression all-knowing. He noticed one was The Kiss; it was right over the headboard of the bed. The duvet was velvety burgundy, and a plush Kermit the Frog toy was nestled between the pillows.

“This room used to be mine after we moved here when I was in middle school, but Momby made it into a spare room when I left for Georgetown. This Kermie is mine,” Kenzie said, throwing the duffel onto the bed and grabbing onto the toy with both hands . “My Abadaba got him for me when I was a baby. My grandma, I mean. She passed away two years ago.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Duncan watched her in the dim light--there was a part of him that knew that though the memory of her grandmother was sad for her, Kenzie was talking mostly to distract him, and he felt a wave of aching affection for her.

“She was wonderful. She was a lot more structured than Momby in some ways. She was a singer--she used to sing this funny song in nightclubs called Abadaba Honeymoon, it was about monkeys singing in trees. So I called her Abadaba. I always did. She would have loved you.”

Kenzie came up to him with the Kermit still clutched in her arms, and Duncan had a vision of her as a little girl, dragging one of the toy’s arms through the mud, having tea parties with it, falling asleep with it clutched against her at night. He could see one of Kermit’s eyes was beginning to unravel from its socket, and its legs and arms were fraying. Kenzie went up on her tip-toes and kissed him--Duncan brought his hands around her cheeks, holding her against him for a moment, loving the feeling of her little dress pressed to him, drifting on the edge of laughter, the pleasant energy in her mother’s house, and more tears, still feeling lost inside his emotions.

Kenzie leaned the Kermit doll’s face up to Duncan for a moment and pressed it on his cheek, pursing her lips and making a kissing sound. “There. All better. Momby used to do that when I was sad. There. All better. Worry to the wind, she would say. My Abadaba used to say that, too.” She turned to a wicker chair in the corner, a woven checkered blanket draped over it, and put the Kermit doll there carefully. Duncan felt unable to speak, unable to think, unable to do anything but stand and watch her. I wish I could forget myself entirely and just get lost in her. Just dissolve into her and become a part of her. I love everything about her. Her hands and her lips and her cheeks, her hair, her wonderful eyes with her beautiful soul whirling inside them, the little laughs she lets out and her little teeth, her bare feet, her curvy hips under my hands. How thoughtful she is, how kind, how sensitive, her memories, her dreams. She’s an angel and I don’t deserve her.

Kenzie was looking at him, her eyes clouded again. He dipped his head away from her.

“You do, though, baby,” and her voice shivered. She’d heard him. “You are the person I love most in the world. In all of the Milky Way. In all of the universe. You do deserve me. You’re my beloved. You are exalted in my eyes.”

The last part came out of her with strange conviction; where have we heard that before? He wondered again. When was the first time I heard you say that to me? It’s so odd. I don’t remember, and yet I feel like I’ve never not heard it from you. As though you’ve said it to me a thousand times.

Kenzie broke the spell, reaching for him, pulling him out the door, back down the stairs. She led him through the living room he’d glimpsed by the front door, and his eyes fell on a photo on the wall--Kenzie smiling and walking down a ramp in her graduation gown and cap, her hands lifting up in triumph. I want more pictures of her at home, he thought. One in every room. I need one on my desk. He remembered the photograph of him and Annette that had sparked the realization in him after Claire Underwood’s question, and felt bitterness seep into the back of his throat, his psyche threatening to delve down into melancholy again, but then Kenzie was pulling him into Madeline’s bright, warm kitchen, and he could see Madeline’s back retreating through a screen door in the far corner, onto a deck with a view of the hills behind the house. There were a few bowls on the small table in the corner, and Kenzie let go of his hand to grip one--it had mashed sweet potatoes in it. There was a tray of the promised long island iced teas--three of them, in fact, in huge tumblers, shivering with round ice cubes.  Duncan gripped it and followed Kenzie out onto the deck. The sun had finally faded past the horizon and Madeline had put The Carpenters on low, Karen emanating from a little stereo on the edge of the wooden railing that surrounded the deck. And when the evening comes, we smile, so much of life ahead, we’ll find a place where there’s room to grow, and yes, we’ve just begun…

Madeline had made them baked chicken with mushrooms--a dinner Kenzie was obviously trying to contain her excitement over--and she’d already begun delving it out onto thick paper plates at a glass deck table. Duncan pulled one of the metal-framed deck chairs out for Kenzie as she set the sweet potatoes down. “Thanks, baby,” she murmured, dipping up to kiss him. He noticed Madeline’s eyes skirt over them, glancing at her shyly, self-consciously, as Kenzie broke away from him and sat as he pushed her chair in.

“I’m not much for the internet, but even I’ve heard about how crazy everyone is online about you two lately,” Madeline said, passing one of the plates to Duncan, who nodded at her gratefully. She dished out their tall drinks next, holding hers aloft so they could toast each other. “I think I’m gonna start selling Kenzie’s autographs for extra cash.”

“Momby,” Kenzie whined, taking a sip of her drink. She coughed a little. “Dammit, Momby, how much vodka is in this?”

“It’s mostly vodka,” Madeline replied, spooning sweet potatoes onto her plates and pushing the bowl towards her daughter. Duncan took a long drink from his tumbler. “Cheers to that,” he murmured. Fine by me. Thanks Madeline.

“So,” and Madeline collapsed into her chair. There were fireflies out in the yard, Duncan could see them winking in the dim fairy lights that lined Madeline’s wooden deck. Kenzie was already digging into her chicken enthusiastically with a fork, staring between the food and Duncan’s face, as if sheepish to be so into her dinner when his day had been so difficult. He glanced at her, smiling, baby, I’m okay, then picked up his fork as well, but not before taking another long gulp of the mostly-vodka-with-a-little-iced-tea drink Madeline had made for him. The chicken was delicious--savory and spicy, and it warmed him to the center of his being, calming his nerves again, dispersing the dizziness in his mind.

“Madeline, this is excellent,” he said, looking up at her.

“Of course it fucking is, baby,” she replied, popping the straw in her drink into her mouth. He laughed a little at that, nodding. Madeline fucking Stone. One of a kind.

“One of you is gonna tell me what happened today, after you’ve had something to eat.” Madeline forked sweet potatoes into her mouth after this statement, with finality. “At least you don’t look white as a fucking sheet anymore, Duncan, sweetpea.”

“What are you going to wear to the Gala tomorrow, Momby?” Kenzie asked, her tawny hair falling over her shoulder, popping mushrooms into her mouth.

“Nobody is gonna give a shit what I’m wearing, dearest daughter of mine,” Madeline replied, her eyes still on Duncan. He could feel the discerning, minute intelligence in her gaze. What did Annette do this time, she seemed to be wondering. “I have some old Calvin Klein stuff, maybe one of those.”

“Momby, there’s a theme, you have to dress according to the theme.”

“I can just slap a gold scarf on or something, honey, everyone’s going to be looking at you two anyway.”

Kenzie blushed and fell silent. She knows Madeline’s right. Karen was singing a different song now, her clear voice ringing out into the warm night. And the only explanation I can find, is the love that I’ve found, ever since you’ve been around...your love’s put me at the top of the world…

Duncan had devoured most of his chicken now, sitting back in the metal chair. He realized he was utterly exhausted--the anguish of this day had pressed on him like an anvil at his back, and the mere idea of the Gala tomorrow sent sharp spikes of anxiety into his mind. I don’t fucking want to see Annette. Not at all. I don’t think I can talk to her right now. I don’t think I can talk to her for awhile. I don’t...I need time. He caught Madeline’s eye again, took another long gulp of the vodka, and then he spoke.

“I went to see Claire Underwood today. I had a meeting with the President--an unsanctioned one. She had agreed to speak with me, and I thought...I thought I could build some kind of bridge between her and Shepherd Unlimited. Madeline--you know. You know I want to change the company. But I didn’t have a chance to be clear with Claire about that before she told me something. Something that she knew would hurt me...something to get at Annette.”

“She told you that you were adopted.”

Duncan gazed at Madeline in shock. “You knew that?”

“No, honey. No, I didn’t know. I suspected it, though. One day Annette’s wandering around in the world, not looking remotely pregnant, and the next day there you are, as if you sprang fully-formed from her head, like Athena popping out of Zeus. I had my suspicions for awhile, yes, but it’s not like Annette and I were on speaking terms, dear. It was just a hunch.”

Duncan was quiet at that--his mind ached again. Fuck, Duncan. Don’t jump down people’s throats. The only person who is at fault for not telling you is Annette. She’s your mother--at least,  that’s what she always told you. It was her responsibility alone.

“I’m sorry, Madeline.”

Kenzie reached for his hand, and Duncan grasped it, gratefully, his breath coming out in a ragged gasp again. He drank at the vodka, drank it down to the bottom. Madeline stood up, holding a finger up. Hang on. She gripped his empty glass and disappeared into the kitchen. Kenzie leaned her head down to him, speaking softly.

“Baby, are you okay? Do you not wanna talk about it anymore?”

“No, Kenzie. It’s okay. I do want to talk about it. It’s--I think it’s the only thing that’s going to make me actually feel better.”

Kenzie nodded to him, eyes falling back onto her plate. Kenzie, I love you. I love how you’re always thinking about how I feel. I love you. If I didn’t have you right now, I don’t know what the fuck I would do. Thank you for this. This is helping so much. I feel so much better already. I really do. Her eyes came back up into his as she heard him, and she smiled, biting her lip a little, kindling his desire, despite his melancholy. My little moonbeam. He squeezed her hand as Madeline came back onto the deck with a fresh drink for him.

“This one is vodka with a dash of seltzer. And I put a lemon in there for you.” She held another in her other hand, even though her first was only half-drunk. Duncan grinned at her as she fell back into her seat. The vodka was starting to settle into him and the events of today were starting to seem far away, dull, the bitterness melting.

“Duncan, I don’t know if this is going to actually comfort you, but Annette does love you.”

“If she loves me so much why didn’t she fucking tell me? I’m 30 years old. She had time.”

“If you want me to explain Annette Shepherd’s psyche, sweetpea, I’m afraid there’s no chance I can help you with that. No one the world over has ever been able to crack that rock-hard outward shell of hers. She’s horribly stubborn. She’s cold as a witch’s tit in Dante’s ninth circle of Hell. She can be a real cunt. But she loves you. Maybe in her eyes, keeping it from you was akin to love. Maybe she thought you’d be happier not knowing.”

“I might have been.” The vodka crashed against him. He moved in his seat, leaning closer to Kenzie, and she reached her little hand out under the table, settling it onto his thigh. He sighed at the feeling of her; gold waves. I love you, Dunny, she was thinking. I can’t wait to hold you close, whisper sweetness into your ear, feel you against me in the dark. I’ll soothe you, my beloved. I’ll soothe you so entirely. You know how I can soothe you.

“So, then, if you can’t necessarily empathize with her reasoning, you can at least understand it.”

“I…” Duncan dipped his hand under his chin, ran his fingers along his bottom lip, trying to dampen Kenzie’s thrall on his mind, enough to concentrate on what Madeline was saying. It wasn’t easy--Kenzie’s wave was like a heady drug he longed to get lost inside of. “I suppose so.”

Madeline seemed to notice the energy that was building between the two of them, even if there was no possibility of her knowing the true intensity of it. Her eyes were skirting over her glasses between Kenzie’s bright eyes focused on him and his nervous expression between the two of them. Yes, it’s true, Madeline, your daughter and I can read each other’s thoughts and anticipate each other’s needs, he imagined saying to her. Get a fucking load of that. A lot has happened in the past two weeks, a lot more than I could ever find words for. I guess I should be considering the big picture, honestly. Finding out I’m adopted is on the lower end of unbelievable things that have happened to me lately.

But no. I’m fucking devastated.

“I’m not a Shepherd, Madeline.”

“You should thank your lucky stars for that, sweetpea. The genes there are all fucked up. Generations of inbreeding in aristocratic families.” Madeline said all of this so drily Duncan couldn’t help but snort with laughter.

“Momby.” Kenzie rolled her eyes at her mother, clenched her teeth.

“I’m serious, though. You don’t want to be a Shepherd, Duncan. Not really. You want the best of what being a Shepherd could potentially be. The resources of the Shepherd name. And they are as good as guaranteed to be yours already. Imagine what you can do with that company, sweetpea. Imagine. Imagine how many people you can help. Imagine the joy you can spread. You don’t need to be a Shepherd by blood. You just need to be a Shepherd on paper. And you are.”

“That reminds me. I need to ask you for something. A very large favor.”

“Sweetie,” Madeline downed the rest of her first drink and pulled her second toward her. “With that face I’d probably sign my house over to you if you asked me really nicely.”

“I’d like to officially ask you to be on the Shepherd Unlimited board of directors. I asked Kenzie already--” he glanced at her, and Kenzie smiled at him, then looked at her mother.

“I said yes, Momby. I think I’m going to need to resign from the Post eventually to do it. But I want to do it. And I want you to do it with us. And so does Duncan.”

“Resign?”

“I think so, Momby. I think--I think it’s time for me to write my book. And I feel like this is the right thing to do. We need your help.”

Madeline sighed deeply. It was not an angry sigh; it wasn’t even annoyed. It was as though she was closing one door, and when the sigh ended, opening another one. It was as though she was letting go of her need to worry over Kenzie--letting go of her apprehension, and falling into the realization that Duncan would indeed be person who would love her daughter with complete devotion. And I fucking will, Madeline. I swear I fucking will. Every fucking day. And on the days I mess up, I’ll do whatever I can to make up for it the next day. There will never come a day when I won’t try to give Kenzie everything she has ever wanted. There is no joy for me now that doesn’t anticipate and stem from her joy.

“You got it, kids.”

“Momby! Yes! Fuck yes!” Kenzie lept out of her chair, running around to her mother, throwing her arms round Madeline’s neck, burying her face in the crook of her mother’s hair. Madeline closed her eyes, but Duncan could see her smile. She opened them as Kenzie continued to clutch her, and they looked at each other--she nodded to him a little, and Duncan felt like he understood. Hey you. You over there. I love you too. I’m doing this for you, too. He felt the drift of tears float into his cheeks again. Not right now. Later, when Kenzie’s holding you in the dark, you know that’s when you will. And she won’t mind. Your sweet Kenzie with the golden touch will hold you and let you cry. She always will.

“Let’s smoke a bowl.”

Madeline disentangled herself from Kenzie’s tight embrace and her daughter (Kenz, angel baby) helped her out of the deck chair. She disappeared into the house again and Kenzie slid around to Duncan, leaning down to his cheek, her lips trailing along the line of his stubble. The revelations of the day felt very far away now, and Duncan felt hazy with tiredness, drunk on Madeline’s strong cocktails, and full of aching desire for Kenzie--Kenzie, from whom all goodness flows.

“Oh god, baby. That feels so good. Come here.” He pulled her down into his lap, anxious to be closer to her. He thought of that first night on the balcony--that sensation that they were touching before they had even truly touched, that vibrating energy between them, heavy and intensely charged. To touch you, my love, to really touch you, to be able to touch you always, I can’t describe how beautiful that is. I am more than blessed. To be chosen by you is beyond all beauty I’ve ever experienced.

“Do you feel better, baby,” Kenzie whispered against his lips, and he dipped them up to her mouth, insistent, nodding, the scent of roses and geraniums and her sweet skin in his nose.

“Uh huh. Much better. Kiss me, angel, please baby, please.” Kenzie sat with both her legs dipped over his thigh, stretching her arms out around his neck (Duncan felt the cool edge of the gold bracelet on his skin there, glanced down at his own now against her waist, his heart twinging), her eyes teasing him (dark green, shining gold), then she was tasting him deeply, her hair falling down against his cheeks, and Duncan suddenly wanted her alone, wanted the comfort of her body pressed against his, naked and so soft and so light under his fingers, arching into his touch. Fuck. I missed you so much today, angel. When I realized--when I knew Annette wasn’t my real mother--all I wanted was to feel you in my arms. Because you are my true family. My only beloved. And nothing else matters as long as you’re beside me.

I always will be, Duncan. You and me, baby.

Madeline was coming back and Kenzie broke away from him, her cheeks flushed, both of them breathing harshly. Madeline gazed over at them lazily, a pink and purple blown-glass smoking bowl gripped between two fingers, a BIC lighter in the other.

“Don’t let me break up the mood, Kenzie Lou,” she murmured facetiously. Kenzie blushed up at her mother, taking the bowl as Madeline handed it down to her. She leaned the mouthpiece toward Duncan’s lips and he pressed them into it, breathing in as she lit the bowl. She pulled it away as he breathed out, breathing in herself from the still-lit embers, then leaned down to kiss him again, blowing out into his mouth as she did. There. Fuck the world, baby. Just me and you. Then, Kenzie handed the bowl back to her mother, who’d already sat back down. Madeline lit it again and breathed deeply.

“Thank you for dinner, Madeline,” Duncan said, his mind an ocean shoreline now, the tide drifting in and out. He pulled on Kenzie’s waist, clutching her closer to him, and she dipped her face down into his neck, her arms still around his shoulders. On the day that you were born the angels got together, Karen sang, and decided to create a dream come true...Kenzie was singing along softly into his ear, and Duncan shivered, pressing down against her lips. “So they sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold,” that’s you he thought, hand drifting at her spine, “and starlight in your eyes of blue--”

And that’s you, baby, he felt her push into him, against his thought to her. That’s your eyes.

“You just owe me another night out on the town, sweetpea.” Madeline puffed at the bowl again, gazing up at where the moon had risen--it was gigantic and glowing, corn-yellow in the balmy night. “You can make it my first official work expense as your employee.”

“The first of many,” Duncan replied, “yes, ma’am.”

They all lingered there for awhile, not speaking, listening to the peepers and watching the fireflies drift out on the grass. Duncan closed his eyes, vodka and weed crashing between his temples, Kenzie’s softness in the little dress with golden flowers in his arms, her fingers twining through his hair at the back of his head. Eventually, Madeline set the bowl down and drained the rest of her cocktail, standing, wobbling a little. Kenzie went to move off his lap to help her, but Madeline shook her head.

“Nope. I’m good, sweetpea. I’m going to bed. You two are gonna do the dishes for me. But you can take your time.” Madeline came over to them and leaned down to Kenzie’s face, kissing her cheek--Kenzie kissed her in return. “Love to you the moon and back, Momby.”

“Love you to the moon and back, my Kenzie Lou.”

Then, Madeline stepped away from her and leaned down to Duncan, pressing her lips to the stubble on his face. Duncan felt his eyes flutter closed. His heart clenched, his breath catching. In that moment, he thought, Madeline loves me as a mother loves a child. And I love her as a son loves a mother. And I’m not alone. I have them, don’t I. I have my darling Kenzie, an angel on earth, and her bold, bright mother, who sees me as a son already, and I am very fortunate indeed. I am blessed among all men.

Madeline’s warm hand drifted down to his cheek for a moment, then dipped under his chin, thumb and forefinger pressing there, angling him toward her gently, and his eyes lifted up to hers. He could feel Kenzie looking between them from where her face rested in the dip of his collarbone.

“Duncan, sweetpea. Never forget how much you are loved. We love you. Okay?”

Duncan felt the tears gather immediately at the corner of his vision. For a moment he couldn’t speak--his breath shook. Kenzie’s fingers tightened in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Okay.”

Then Madeline gave him a little nod. “Good night, my moon babies,” she called over her shoulder, turning away from them, and disappeared inside, sliding the deck door shut behind her.

Kenzie lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “Dunny.”

“Yes, Kenzie Lou?”

“I love you.”

“As I love you.”

“Tomorrow, we’ll be together all day. We’ll have breakfast together and we’ll go see Morgan and Claire together, we’ll get dressed for the Gala together. Nobody can bother us, because we’ll be together. I won’t let them bother you. Anyone you don’t want to talk to, we’ll ignore them. Annette or your uncle. Anybody. Everyone. I’ll tell them to fuck off. I’ll throw a fuckinggg drink on them.” Kenzie slurred her words just a little--the weed was beginning to settle down into her, and the gold of her that fell against him in a tide felt more erratic, drawn-out, high. Duncan smiled against her. That’s right baby. You and me. Fuck them.

“I won’t fucking let anyone bother you either, baby. I can’t wait to see your dress, I’m fucking dying to see it. I’ll be thinking of you the whole time, I’ll just be thinking of later, thinking of you touching me, finally releasing me--” and at this he dipped his mouth down to the space under her ear and she was pressing her little breasts into his shirt, her hands flitting against his neck, her breath gasping as her mouth lifted up toward the moon, and he thought when you’ll finally slide that ring off my cock, hovering on the edge of hardness for hours and hours for you, when I’ll slide that plug out of your tight little ass and fuck you there, fuck you where you’ve been aching for me, I’ll be thinking of you the whole time, Kenzie, thinking of us alone together, the only thing I ever really want now, you you you your body and your mouth and your eyes and you and me alone alone alone just us no one else nobody but us my dearest love your gold like honey like nectar like sweet wine better than any weed greater than any drug the headiest of all pleasure and second to no one and nothing only you angel princess baby goddess, my moonlight, my moon flower--

Kenzie was giggling into his touch now, his mouth blowing cool tickling air onto her skin teasingly and his fingers dipping into her sides and pressing into her. You’re ticklish too, huh baby, and she wailed “yes, yes, stop, I surrender!” and he gripped her as she writhed, her screeches of laughter echoing out across the back lawn, tears in his eyes even as he grinned into her hair, happiness and sadness and some other emotion he couldn’t name crashing against each other in his mind, crashing into hers, maybe it’s more than happiness, more than sorrow, maybe it’s just the feeling of us together, the rightness of it, more than anything I feel, it’s the knowledge of our destiny, the knowledge of the perfection of this moment, when I thought perfect moments couldn’t exist, and now I know I was wrong, that they can, that they do, that this is one--nestled in a day so strange, so full of anguish--one moment, fit against us, molded to us. Perfect. There are perfect things in this universe. This moment, and the knowledge of us together. These things are perfect.

Duncan let Kenzie wriggle out of his lap, knowing full well that if he wanted to trap her there he could, keeping the strength in his arms coiled, not letting the neediness in his stoned, drunk mind take over his senses. She hopped away, breathless, gathering up their empty plates and the bowl of leftover sweet potatoes, cocking her head toward the screen door to the deck, which Madeline had disappeared into awhile ago. “Help me, baby,” and Duncan stood, stacking the empty glasses on the tray, gripping the serving platter with the remainder of the chicken. He followed Kenzie inside and she set the items on the counter, going back out onto the deck, turning off the little stereo, and the only sound now was the peepers and the cat clock in the corner towards the living room, and the sound of Kenzie shutting the deck’s sliding door, the sound of her bare feet on the kitchen’s linoleum. She went to the sink and pulled down a few tupperware containers in a cupboard beside it, scooping the sweet potatoes into one while Duncan slid the remaining chicken into the other.

I love this, he thought. Doing this with you. Doing anything with you. I wish we could do things like this more. When we have the garden house, we will. We’ll get away from the city, the company, my mother, the paps. We’ll make breakfast with eggs laid by our own chickens. We’ll eat fresh tomatos and cucumbers and lettuce from our own garden. We’ll take the horses out into the field, the woods, lay in the grass and eat apples under our orchard trees. We’ll fuck in the shade and lay there together naked and no one will see us, no one will bother us, no one.

That’s lovely, baby, she drifted against him, her little head brushing against his shoulder, filling the sink with hot soapy water, handing him a dry towel. Keep thinking those beautiful things and dry the dishes as I hand them to you, okay?

Uh huh, Kenzie. Anything you want me to do. And I mean every day. Always. The Cartier bracelet glittered on her wrist as she dipped the bowls and silverware into the sink, scrubbing at them with a scouring brush Madeline had crooked around the faucet, her eyes glancing up at him as she handed them off to him, dark green like the forest of you, the woods of you, the infinite of you. Princess Kenzie, fairest in all the land, fairest of them all. I’ll build you a castle where only beautiful things are, a castle of green growing things, a castle for your heart to find refuge in the certainty of my love, where we can hold each other, hidden by the boughs of the trees and surrounded by flowers, flowers to cover the wall over our bed in the city, and flowers for every sill in our home, flowers for you hair, flowers we’ll fall into as I kiss you--

“Oh baby, yes, I love that, god, that’s lovely--” she sighed, her voice barely above a whisper, and she dropped the brush and the bowl she held back into the soapy water and her wet, soapy little hands came up to his cheeks and pulled him down to crush his mouth into hers, and he dropped the towel onto the counter and lifted her into his arms, lifted her onto the counter too, the better to reach her, touch her, hold her, press against her, her smell like roses, her taste spicy and sweet and her, her taste, like flowers dipped in honey. Duncan felt the memory of today’s sorrow once more, knew there were things he now knew about himself that he couldn’t forget again, things he didn’t know about himself that he knew he needed to know, not just about his mother--whoever she was--but about him, about Kenzie, about how he knew they knew each other and knew they were meant to always be together, and why that was, how that had come to be, how they had found each other again. But all of that, his confusion, his despondency, his desire to know, was dissolving against her, and he felt the perfection he’d felt on the deck extending, stretching on into her mouth, perfect, baby, you’re perfect to me, you’re like a secret place I discover again and again, the secret safe place where my heart will always be able to rest and kindle its greatest emotions and that is beyond all words, all language, all description.

“Duncan, let’s wait until tomorrow,” Kenzie whispered, hands falling down to the sides of his neck, coaxing a moan from his throat, his hands gripping her knees, sliding up her bare thighs under the little dress, her warm, trembling skin sending an electric current through him, almost painful. “Let’s wait to fuck until tomorrow night, and we’ll be so fucking crazy for each other by then, we’ll be so needy for each other by then, baby, Dunny, god, I’m dying just thinking about waiting already, dying to feel your big cock fucking me--”

“Fuck, Kenzie, I don’t know if I can wait that long, baby, I want you now--”

“You have to. You have to wait. You have to do as I say, Duncan. You have to obey me.” She was giving him a hellishly lovely smile, one that set him absolutely on fire in this moment, her eyes whirling jade with flecks of gold, her hair in a cascade of silk over her shoulder--Fuck, Mackenzie Stone, you’ll be the death of me. Fucking marry me. Fuck me and choke me and tell me I belong to you. Because I do, I really do, I fucking do baby, I’m yours utterly, entirely. He leaned into her mouth longingly again as she kissed him, her arms drifting up his dark sleeves, her fingers brushing against his chin, holding him on her lips. Then she pushed him back--gently, but Dunan knew he needed to obey, needed to follow her, and he stepped backwards, eyes fluttering closed. He realized how tired he was in that moment, how the day’s revelations and the vodka and the weed and his desire for her were now combining to insist he hold her tightly and fall asleep now, sleep until today became nothing more than a memory. Kenzie slid back down to the floor, off the counter, and crooked a finger at him.

“Help me finish, baby. Then we’re gonna go to bed.”

“Uh huh, Kenzie.” He rubbed the fatigue from his eyes and yawned. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. The Gala is tomorrow. The full moon is tomorrow. I’ll long for you tomorrow, all day long, tomorrow.

Kenzie led him up the stairs after they finished the last few dishes, and they brushed their teeth quietly side by side in the little bathroom that used to be Kenzie’s when she was in high school, Duncan in a black tee shirt and gym shorts, Kenzie in his big Led Zeppelin tee that was now an integral part of her sleepwear. Duncan noticed a photo of her and Claire still there, in a bubblegum-pink frame over the toilet. Kenzie smiled at it, glancing up at him as she rinsed her toothbrush. In the photo they both wore Baskin-Robbins hats and aprons, Kenzie kissing Claire’s cheek, Claire with an expression of mock surprise, hand on Kenzie’s jaw. “Yes, I was an ice cream girl for two years,” Kenzie said to him, and Duncan let his hand drift into her hair, grinning as he scrutinized the photo.

“The prettiest ice cream girl in the world.”

“Ugh, shut up, Prince Duncan. I’d like to see you in that uniform. Give me twelve scoops and chocolate sauce and sprinkles, ice cream boy. I bet you never had a work a shitty job, huh.”

Duncan shook his head. “No, you’re right. I didn’t. But I did have to go to a shitty private school where I got my head smashed into a locker every other day for four years. I was bullied...a lot. Relentlessly. For awhile it was like it was my job to get the shit beat out of me. Two big guys in particular whose favorite insult for me was fag. Original, I know. Broke my wrist throwing me into a brick wall. One of them kicked me in the face so hard he knocked four of my teeth out, another time they punctured one of my ear drums with a pencil. God, that was the worst pain I’ve ever felt.”

“Baby. Fuck.” Kenzie’s face fell and suddenly she was pressing against him, her little nose in his shirt, her hands clutching around him. “I’m so sorry, baby. That’s so horrible. Ugh, no, no, no. I wish I had been there. I would have kicked their asses.” She turned her face up to him and he could see the tears glittering in her eyes. Duncan dipped his head so his lips brushed against her hair.

“My fearless Kenzie. I know you would have. I wish I could tell him--me, back then--how you were on your way. I wish he had known.”

“I’m here now, baby. I’ll always protect you now.”

I know you will, Kenzie. As I’ll always protect you. Nobody can hurt us now--now we have each other. Now we’re invincible. Our hearts are safe from them, shrouded in each other. Kenzie led him to the bed--Duncan switched the bathroom light off behind them, pulled the switch on the lamp beside the bed, glancing at The Kiss over it before he did (me and you)--and she pulled him down to her in the holy darkness. Duncan pressed his face into the sweet space above her breasts, kissing the shirt over her skin, his arms clutching her flush to him, and whispered “Kenzie, I love you,” and her cheek was pressing to the top of his head, her little thigh crooked up between his legs, and she was murmuring “I love you too baby, I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore...” and he knew she meant it, knew she would, knew that her golden waves of sunlight and moonbeam were his shield against all the harm of the wide world outside. And then, sleep, in her arms, in her embrace, in the warmth of her love...

And he forgot to cry--forgot that he had wanted to.

--------

The next morning Duncan woke to the sound of Madeline’s sharp tapping on the bedroom door. His head felt heavy; a small hangover from the vodka, softened by the weed. Kenzie was leaning from her position against him, same as the one they’d fallen asleep in, turning her head to the door, and he drifted up out of sleep, eyes opening to the crook of her neck, the sweet, musky smell of her. We were dreaming. But what was the dream about? We were together. The Mirror. The Mirror was in the dream. We were...but it was sliding away from him. Her dress was long and black, falling velvet...I don’t know. I can’t remember.

“Wake up, kiddos, I made pancakes. Chocolate chip and blueberry. And I spiked the coffee. Hair of the dog for a big day.”

Duncan heard Madeline’s laugh echo through the door and Kenzie shouted “Thank you Momby! We’ll be there in a minute!” and a sharp spike went through Duncan’s skull. He groaned against her, arms tightening to pull her mouth down to him.

“Did you dream, baby?” He tasted at her, the slight saltiness that had gathered on her in her sleep. I have to wait to fuck you until tonight, late, late tonight, fuck baby, how can I wait so long--Kenzie was wriggling out of his arms, her expression devious. You’re gonna really make me suffer today, aren’t you, angel baby. I can tell by the look in your eyes.

Yes. Show me how you worship me. Be good, baby. Be patient.

“I think so, but I can’t really remember.” Kenzie sat up, her golden hair in a frenzied, sleep-tangled halo around her head. I fucking love you so much, he thought, reaching for her, but she slipped away in that infuriating quickness, her little ass in its tiny pair of white lace panties kindling his morning erection (just the usual), the gold-and-diamond bracelet winking on her little wrist as her hand trailed off the bed. He lifted his hand up to his pounding head, his own gold bracelet brushing against his temple as he did; the tethers of the gold thread between us, mine extending to hers, tied together, for all of time. Thank you gods. Thank you Fates.

He had followed her downstairs to find that Madeline had indeed made them pancakes--a mountain of them, with organic butter and syrup and strawberries on the side, and strong black coffee spiked with what tasted like peppermint schnapps, which did its bit to clear his head and whisk away the hangover pressing into him. It was after 9--we slept for a long time, Duncan marveled. I could have slept for longer, honestly, something about this house is wildly comforting. I wish Kenzie and I could sleep through the Gala entirely, just forget it even exists. He couldn’t imagine speaking to Annette today; he knew as soon as she approached him he’d do his best to escape from her, despite the fact that the Gala was taking place at the Shepherd mansion as it always did. At least the house is so fucking huge it’s easy to lose people if you’re trying to. He looked up at Kenzie to see she was staring at him, her eyes knowing, glittering as she sipped at her coffee. I know you can hear me. I just can’t fucking do it, baby. I can’t talk to her right now.

It’s okay, Duncan. You won’t have to. We’ll avoid her. She’ll be busy anyway. She’ll be around other guests. We can hide from her. Kenzie pushed a forkful of chocolate chip pancake into her mouth, nodding to him. She’d left her phone downstairs last night and it was now resting on the table beside her--Duncan’s eyes glanced down at it, noticing it light up once, then again from two separate texts, one from Clairebear, the other from a number that wasn’t saved in her phone. His own phone was still in the pocket of the pants he’d left in a pile upstairs on the floor. Fuck my phone. I might as well throw it in the fucking garbage. If I’m with Kenzie there’s no one else in the world I want to fucking talk to anyway.

Madeline was in a fluffy dark navy bathrobe, wearing her purple-rimmed glasses, clutching her coffee cup in her hands, her eyes skirting back and forth between the two of them.

“It’s like you two are talking without actually saying anything, and it’s weirding me the fuck out.”

Duncan bit into his lip. We are, Madeline. He used the edge of his fork to cut off a piece of pancake, pushing it into his mouth. “These are great, Madeline. I can see where Kenzie gets her cooking skills.”

“Duncan is an incredible cook, don’t let him fool you, Momby. And he taught himself.”

“Well aren’t you two just so far up each other’s asses,” Madeline replied, smiling into her coffee cup. Kenzie rolled her eyes at her mother, making an exasperated sound in the back of her throat, going back to her plate, biting into a strawberry. Duncan snorted, trying to hold back his laughter. You have us down to a tee, Madeline. I am, indeed, so far up her ass. He snorted again as he saw Kenzie give him a look, sucking her bottom lip in. Oh my fucking god, Duncan. Then they couldn’t stop--Duncan pressed a hand over his mouth and Kenzie giggled, and then they were both laughing uncontrollably, and Madeline said “oh boy, I said it, didn’t I, I did that to myself,” and was laughing too. Tears were popping out of Kenzie’s eyes, her head falling back as she laughed into her hands, and Duncan thought fuck, I get to laugh with you every day now, fuck me, thank heaven.

Eventually they all quieted down and Kenzie looked down at her phone. “Claire says we should meet up around noon to make sure everything fits right. I guess you can finally see my dress then, baby. Oh my god, Momby, wait till you see, do you wanna see the photos Claire sent me? Duncan hasn’t seen it yet, we’ve been waiting to make it a surprise.”

“Fuck yes I want to see it,” Madeline said, leaning over to her daughter conspiratorially. Duncan heard her gasp and he felt twinge of jealousy. “Ugh, I wanna fucking see--” he said, trying to dip his head around to Kenzie’s phone, which she jerked back beyond his line of vision.

“Not yet baby, the first time for you has to be when I’m wearing it, please please please,” and Duncan whined. 

“Fine. But stop rubbing it in, Madeline.”

“I sure will not stop rubbing it in, sweetpea. We don’t know each other that well yet so let me tell you something. I am the queen of rubbing it the fuck in. With salt. Duncan, it’s fucking exquisite, and you are going to shit yourself.”

Duncan gave Madeline a faux dark look, jabbing towards her with his fork, Psycho-style. She laughed at him.

“Baby, you’re so cute. We’re gonna change your name to Stone. I’m keeping you.”

“That would be my fucking honor, and we both know it.”

Kenzie was smiling between them, and the earnest happiness in her expression made Duncan want to press her against him, kiss her tenderly. But then she looked back down at her phone, and her face immediately creased with a frown.

“Kenz, what is it?”

“Um, it’s Annette.”

Duncan’s blood went cold, his good mood immediately crashing down to earth. “Oh. What the fuck does she want.”

“She’s asking if she can come by the penthouse. She says she wants to give me something.”

Duncan’s mind flashed with a spike of red-hot anger. “Spent all this time being horrible to you and now she’s trying to guilt-trip me by giving you gifts. Fuck her.”

“Duncan.”

“Kenzie, she didn’t tell me I was adopted for thirty fucking years.”

“I know, baby. I fucking understand why you’re angry, why you’re so hurt. But if she’s finally trying to be civil with me, it feels like an opportunity. Baby. We can help her understand what we want to do with the company. I mean--eventually. After some time. After you have some time.”

Duncan pressed two fingers into the bridge of his nose. Calm the fuck down, Duncan. Do not take your anger out on Kenzie, don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare. She hasn’t done anything but be loving and sympathetic and cried her eyes out for you last night. She’s the one who is ALWAYS on your side.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He could feel Madeline’s eyes between them, intent, observant. She’s watching you too, Duncan. She’s watching how you treat her daughter, and you need to pass this fucking test, today and every day from here on out. So pass the fucking test and don’t be a fuck up. “I--I can’t see her right now. But she can drop it off for you with Anchaly. Or you can, I dunno--I can go somewhere while you talk with her.”

“I’ll go downstairs and see her for a minute. After we go see Morgan and Claire, before the Gala. I’ll just go talk to her downstairs for a minute. Is that okay?”

“Yes, Kenzie. It’s okay.”

“Okay.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, Kenzie’s phone poised in her hand. Duncan. I love you. We both know she wants to use me right now to get you back on her side. But that doesn’t matter. We can go away after the Gala, baby. Let’s do it. After the Gala, let’s just leave. Let’s go to the cabin and stay there for a few days. As long as we need to. Until you feel better. Until you feel like you can talk to her. How does that sound? Let’s just go. Everyone can fuck off after today. Just you and me, baby. Just us and the stars and the trees and the lake.

Duncan was nodding at her, and he could feel Madeline’s puzzlement again at their silence, their intent stares at each other, his nodding.

“Seriously, you two are spooking me. What the fuck.”

“It’s just how we comfort each other, Momby. It’s just--it’s like meditation.”

“Not like any meditation I’ve ever fucking seen. It’s like you’re talking to each other but your mouths aren’t moving. Like fucking telepathy. You two are...it’s just...it’s very strange.”

Duncan didn’t say anything, finishing off his pancakes, bringing his coffee cup (it had a full-frontal faun with a comically large erection playing panpipes on it--nice, Madeline) to his lips. Madeline sighed at them, then seemed resigned to them not elaborating further. “What time are you picking me up with that fucking fantastic man?”

“I’m assuming you’re referring to Samuel Adebayo, my irreplaceable chauffeur.”

“That’s what I said. That fucking fantastic man.”

“The Gala starts at 8. We should be fashionably late. So we’ll pick you up at 8 sharp, how does that sound?”

“Perfect, sweetpea. Plenty of time for me to get high as a kite beforehand.”

Kenzie was rolling her eyes again, but Duncan couldn’t help but agree with Madeline internally. I don’t think I can make it through tonight sober. Between avoiding my mother and edging in a crowd of famous politicians and celebrities, it’s going to be an interesting fucking night. He felt Kenzie’s eyes on him again.

Wait until you see my dress, baby. Wait till you see your angel. He felt gold swirling around her thoughts--the gold of the gods, she thought to him. My sweet black-clad god of riches, you will behold your Persephone. Your fucking queen. And I’ll be wearing my plug for you all night too, just fucking aching for you...

Kenzie. Fuck. You’re killing me.

Thankfully Madeline had turned away from them this time to make more coffee. Kenzie stood, having finished her breakfast too, and crooked a finger at him, grinning with her little teeth. Come on. Let’s take a shower together in my shitty adolescent bathroom, baby. I’m going to make you needy for me today. You don’t get to fuck me till later, but you can look and touch, baby.

“Momby, we’re gonna go get dressed. Thank you for the pancakes.” Kenzie stepped over to her mother, kissing her cheek, then hopped over to Duncan and pulled him toward the stairs, her eyes that dark jade green, making his stomach swirl with low heat. He watched her ass bounce up the stairs ahead of him and he closed his eyes as he went after her. Fuuuuck. How the fuck am I going to make it until tonight.

Kenzie was pulling him through the guest room (The Kiss, Pallas Athene, gold waves, hey Kermit) and into the little bathroom, closing the door with a snap behind them, turning the little lock, her hair falling. The shower curtain was celestial suns and moons--Duncan assumed it must have been the same one since before Kenzie went to college--and Kenzie pushed it back, turning her back to him, clutching the hem of her tee shirt and pulling it off, yanking her panties off with one hand, letting them fall as Duncan’s eyes roved over her bare ass. Ugh, I love it. I love your body, baby, love your shoulders and your hair, the dip of your waist, your hips and the round peach of your ass, the backs of your thighs and your short little legs--he reached out before she could wriggle away and his hands fell down to the jut of her hipbones, burying his nose in the back of her hair.

“Princess,” he whispered against her. “My beautiful fucking baby.”

Kenzie leaned back into him--Duncan felt the jerk of his cock growing hard as she rubbed her ass up against his crotch through the soft fabric of the gym shorts he still wore. How how how can I wait until tonight, baby, how can I. His hand was coming down her abdomen to hover above her sex, but Kenzie grabbed his fingers and yanked them away, insistently.

“No, baby. Be good. Get in the shower with me.” You smell like flowers, baby. You’re my little fucking flower. Let me suck on your exquisite petals, Persephone. Let me take you into my mouth.

She stepped into the tub and turned the knob, yelping a little as cold water came out against her breasts and stomach. “Ugh, I forget now that not every shower is hot immediately like yours, baby,” she murmured, and Duncan was hurriedly throwing his clothes off, stepping in beside her. Not every shower’s as big as mine either, huh, Kenz, he thought to her, his body immediately pressing against hers as he gripped her at the hips and turned her into him in the small basin, the shower head now falling against the back of her hair. His hardening erection was pressing to her stomach now. Duncan hesitated for a moment, looking down into her face turned up to him. Then, he kneeled in front of her, the bottoms of his feet pressed against the edge of the small tub, hands still holding her hips in a careful but insistent clutch.

“Can I please make you come, Princess Kenzie?”

Her eyes were backlit with that ethereal green in the artificial light of the little bathroom--the sun was facing away from the house this time of day, and only the yellow light of the bulbs over the bathroom mirror permeated the shade of their nook. The water was finally hot now, and steam began to rise around her, like some cascading spell coiling up from her, the water soaking through her blonde-dark hair, sliding in rivulets down her thighs, his mouth hovering just over the lips of her sex now. Duncan kept his eyes on her face, fingers tightening down onto the backs of her thighs, under the dip of her ass cheeks. Please say yes, I beg of you, angel. Please let me. I want the sweet scent of your clit to hover around my lips and mouth and nose all day. I want it to linger in my senses the whole time at the Gala. I want my thoughts to be intoxicated with the memory of your cunt, the desperate hope that I can worship it with my sex as I did with my mouth. I beg you to let me worship you.

Kenzie’s silence stretched, and he felt as though she had closed her mind off to him for a moment, closed herself and delved down into a secret Pandora’s box, and he ached to feel her again, a tiny whimper escaping him, his desperation rising up. Then, Kenzie’s gold surged back into him and he felt his cock jump between his legs with the force of it, felt the groan that erupted from his lips as the stare between them extended, the hot water falling against his cheeks from where he knelt before her, beholden. 

Kenzie’s slender hands clutched into the back of his head, down into the wetness of his curls, and still not speaking, only staring into him, her expression obtuse and unreadable, Kenzie brought her leg up over his shoulder, crooking her knee there, lifting her thigh open, and she forcefully, harshly, demandingly brought his face, the open supplication of his mouth, flush between the wet lips of her sex. Duncan immediately clutched her against him with all his strength, easily holding her steady, the gold bracelet on his wrist pressing against her ass, and he kept his eyes open, lifted up to her face, her chin falling back and her mouth falling open as the water rushed through her hair. I will never forget the way she looks in this moment, either, in this tiny little shower. Her face is like the face of god to me. Yes, angel, yes. This is all for you. She was sighing deeply, her sighs like long, drawn cries, and he could feel the minute shuddering in the muscles of her legs and the core of her body, and he longed to be devoured by her desires in that moment, longed to be consumed by her needs. I’m your baby, Kenzie, I belong to you, the only thing I want is to make you feel so fucking good, the only thing I want is to be yours, and to make you come, come, come--

Duncan moved his head down, flicked his tongue out, pressing it along the quivering sensitivity of the dip of skin between Kenzie’s ass and the opening of her cunt, along the cavity there and the lips of her labia, then back up into her clit, and Kenzie was crying out softly, quietly, “fuck, baby, don’t fucking do that, I can’t be quiet if you do that, I don’t want Momby to hear us--” and Duncan smiled into her clit, swirling his tongue around the bud, loving the feeling of her thighs knocking against his hair, her involuntary convulsing, her hands gripping his hair with an intensifying low pain, pulling. He pressed his open mouth in a wanton kiss to the very head of where the lips of her began, then began to suck lightly, suck downwards over the mound of nerves, dipping his tongue back and forth, and each time it pressed into her Kenzie’s hips bucked into his face, her thighs beginning to tremble in a steady cascade now, and he dug his hands so tightly into her that he could feel his short nails now dipping half-moons into her soft skin. 

Fucking come, moonlight. This is just the first time today. I’m gonna make you come later, even harder than I make you come right now. Fucking come against my mouth. I dream all day about your sweet little cunt, Kenzie. My daydreams are the feeling and the scent of you here, my daydreams are buried in your hair, the softness of your skin, the radiant glow of your eyes. He raised his head for a moment, away from his ardent sucking, and stared at her. He knew what she was thinking now, knew how she wanted to force him against her, felt the coiling desire to control him swirling in the center of her, an image rather than a thought, and he waited for another beat, waited for her to do what he longed for, what he knew she wanted to do. Kenzie brought her fingers away from their harsh grip at his hair; one of her little graceful hands clutched him under his stubbled chin as he gripped her thigh and the back of her ass, holding his face steady as he held her body in place, and then her other hand came up, hovered, then came against his cheek with a hard slap, the diamonds on her wrist winking, his mouth hanging open with the force of it, breath falling out in a harsh gasp, eyes fluttering closed, involuntary.

Kenzie hesitated for a moment, then brought the backside of the same hand down over the other cheek, not quite as hard as the first, but the sound of it still loud and sharp. The low pain of her attentions sent a dagger of hot need through his body and into his groin, crackling energy sliding through his mind. I bow to you, goddess. Kenzie. My beloved. Queen. I am beholden to your desires. Fucking yes. I want you to command me to suck on you. I fucking love you.

“Put your mouth back where it belongs, baby,” she said, and she lifted her chin, the hot water sliding down the curve of her breasts, between her collarbones down the flatness of her stomach, and he saw the glimmering wonder of her divinity again, and felt staggered inside it, knowing there was nothing else in the world he wanted inside this moment as much as he wanted what to do she told him to do.

Duncan pressed his open mouth against her again in a complete supplication that sent warm waves of her golden tide down his throat, the heady scent and taste of her making his cock jump into his belly again, and her hand was coming down to the nape of his neck, achingly gently now, pressing him into her, moving her hips so she was almost hovering over him now, almost as if she were floating, her body heavy against him but also impossibly light, and his eyes fluttered closed--he couldn’t help it, overwhelmed as he felt by her in this moment, extending forwards and backwards until he felt as though he no longer knew where he was, and didn’t care to know, only that she was here, impossibly close, and she was going to fucking come for him very soon, and with his mouth utterly pressed to her he felt the shudder build in her body and heard her needling cry, opened his eyes, holding his mouth carefully still and working his tongue into her as she shook, watching her head dip down, cock to the side in an achingly lovely moment of complete abandon, her eyes half-lidded and lit by a haloed glow, her mouth wide, her little teeth peeking from her lips, her breasts shuddering with tiny shivering adulations, her arms shaking, one hand falling across his stubbled cheek almost absently, needy to feel him there (I love it love the feeling of it love you fucking love you I fucking love you your mouth is all I ever want now your mouth and your adoration and you bowing to me, bow to me bow to me my fucking gorgeous impossibly beautiful prince oh fucking fuck fucking fuck me fuckkkk), her thoughts the most glorious poem inside her orgasm. His mouth stayed against her, loathe to leave the sweetness of her, as her shudders dissipated, floated down, dissolved slowly. Kenzie tried to uncrook her knee from where her thigh still laid over his shoulder, and Duncan gripped her hard, whining between the lips of her, trying to keep her there.

“Baby, be good, let me down,” she was laughing at him, hands soft on his cheeks, her diamond Cartier bracelet glinting in the corner of his eyes as she pushed his face back, and he pouted at her, pouted up into her radiant face, goggled by its loveliness, awash in the sweet afterglow of her orgasm. “Later, I’m gonna let you fuck me so hard. Be good today, okay? Be my sweet baby.” He sighed into her stomach at that, nodding, squinting his eyes against the heat of the water spitting down, then leaned back, licking his lips (god I love the taste of her, I don’t know any words for it, it’s like the sweetest cake with the headiest wine, the absolute tip of an orgasm, the absolute depth of the deep ocean, it’s like staring into the abyss with white stars whirling, it’s her, it’s fucking her, it’s the taste of heaven), and hoisted himself up, aware that his erection was achingly hard now between his legs, aware that she wasn’t going to touch him, and he wanted to moan with terrible frustration. Kenzie was leaning away from him, squeezing conditioner into her palm, fingering it swiftly through her tawny hair, and he could see her mouth still hovering open as she stared at him, could see the flow of her thoughts even though she wasn’t touching him. I love your big fucking cock baby, later I’m going to fucking gag on it for you, but only if you’re good, only if you’re patient, and he groaned, dipping his face down to press against her cheek, the heat of the water making his cock shiver as she leaned away from him so only their faces were touching. His fingers came up to press into her breasts, around her nipples, and then he was moving his hands away because the feeling of her was simply too intense for him now, too much to bear, and he moved back and he said “Fuck, Kenzie baby…”

Kenzie closed her eyes, rinsing her hair under the shower head, hands flitting through its dark gold, then she was pressing a finger up into the dip of his throat, right below his adam’s apple, curling her hand up to grasp his throat, gently but insistently.

“Don’t you dare come, Duncan Shepherd. You have to wait.”

Duncan’s mouth snapped closed at her commanding tone, the gold flecks that suddenly twirled in her gaze, and his hands fell away from where they had been hovering near his cock, his aching need to touch himself laid bare to her through their minds’ touch.

“Ung, Kenzie--”

“No whining. Finish up and get ready with me. It’s time for you to see my dress.”

Kenzie stepped out of the shower at that, and Duncan tried to dial back the wave he felt falling down his body, into his groin. You can’t. Kenzie said you have to wait. He forced himself to think of an open wound festering, the smell of rotting garbage, anything to ease him down from the edge of release. Slowly he began to feel the pressure in his cock easing, and he gasped into the water, sucking some into his mouth, swirling it under his tongue, desperate to ease the whirling need the taste of her sex kindled up in him. The taste of her in my mouth like this is fucking overwhelming, it’s like fucking torture. I could come over and over and never want it to end in a thousand years, tasting her on my lips this way. Duncan resigned himself to patience (you must, you have to, it’s what she fucking wants so it must be done) and finished his shower alone, despite the terrible ache of his desire for her, her gold still lingering like a patina around his body.

-------

Kenzie was wearing the button-down mustard-colored yellow lace dress she’d packed hurriedly in his duffel the night before, the little black heeled sandals on her feet, the Tiffany moon at her throat, her long hair still drying in soft waves around her shoulders, Duncan in one of his typical black Givenchy Oxfords, the fabric of it thankfully a cool cotton (somehow I packed something sensible, despite the erratic nature of my mental state last night, he thought)  to combat the heat of the June day, already overwhelming, his round black-framed Yves sunglasses over his eyes, her little gold-framed round sunglasses over hers as she pulled him eagerly from the BMW’s backseat at Morgan’s studio, an wildly excited grin spread across her little face. I want to fucking kiss you, angel, your sweetness is like a food I want to savor.

Duncan had made the mistake of looking at his phone on the way and low dismay kindled in the back of his mind now; Annette had attempted to call him 15 times since last night and left him a slew of texts, which ranged in tone from the outright defensive to jarringly apologetic that bordered on a kind of begging. He’d never once been privy to a message from his mother that approached this level of penitence, and it unnerved him. But he was determined to stay away from her for a few days. I can’t fucking talk to you right now, and you have to fucking accept it, Mom. He’d avoid her as well as he could tonight, and they wouldn’t talk about what Claire Underwood had told him until he and Kenzie returned from the cabin. He knew this with certainty. His mind ached with acute agony when he tried to contemplate the truth; I’m not a Shepherd, I don’t fucking know who I am; it was simply too close still, and his psyche stepped away from it as he clutched Kenzie’s hand like a lifeline.

Kenzie was dragging him up the stairs, little sounds of excitement floating down to him from her mouth, her movements elated. My dress my fucking dress my gorgeous dress wait till you see baby wait till you see, he could hear her, waves of gold crashing. Kenzie slammed her palm onto the buzzer, hopping up and down, squeezing his hand, pinching his fingers. How can I be in a bad mood when you look like this, he thought, dipping his face down to kiss her cheek. My fucking angel. Today will be beautiful because you are here and you alone are my sunlight.

Claire greeted them, cheeks flushed pink, in a long-sleeved navy midi dress with rose-colored blossoms--her face was radiantly happy too, and Duncan was struck by the glow of her cheeks, the winking shine of her gaze. Harris, he thought, surprised at the immensity of it all over her face, surprised by the obviousness of it. Harris. Kenzie fell into her arms, squealing with delight, “We’re here, we’re here!” and Claire was laughing, her grin infectious--Duncan could feel his own smile falling over his face, so overwhelming was the loveliness of these two women before him in this moment. How can I possibly be sad, in a world where my Kenzie and her dear ones exist.

“God, wait till you see them, darlings, my Kenzie Lou, Duncan--wait until you see. The paparazzi are going to actually die. You should both wear those sunglasses this evening, cuz you’re gonna be blinded by camera flashes all night.” Claire was gripping Kenzie’s little hand so she was extended between her best friend and Duncan, like they were about to play ring-around-the-rosie. Duncan let Kenzie pull him into Morgan’s studio behind them, sliding his sunglasses off his nose. It had taken awhile for his erection to go down in the shower, and he still felt the vaguely uncomfortable edge of blue balls between his legs, the memory of a release anticipated and never carried to its end, the come still trapped in his groin that demanded attention. He shifted, resigned to it, trapped inside it, knowing it would be hours and hours until he got what he wanted. My Kenzie, moaning against me, lost inside my touch, my sex, my desire for her. That’s what I fucking want. Kenzie had let go of him, rushing over to greet Morgan, looking as obtuse and polished as ever in a long black poncho that fell to the floor, lacy black gloves on her hands. He raked a hand through the wave of hair over his ear, breathing out slowly, carefully. You’re going to need to pace yourself, he scolded himself. You’ll never make it through tonight if your nerves are like this all day. If your desire is this strong. Push it down and control yourself. We have a long way to go.

“Darlings, delightful to see you looking so fresh and anticipant,” Morgan cooed. “I think I’ve truly created two of my masterpieces for you in these pieces, a triumphant, delicate mixture of verdant power and seductive celestial ecstasy. Truly I have found my muses.” Duncan was stepping towards her, Morgan extending her hand to him, which he grasped in greeting, dipping his head down to her. Kenzie hopped in place, clutching Claire still, her hair bouncing.

“Please let me see it, please please please,” she was begging, and Claire was laughing at her. Duncan smiled, his body was beginning to hum with the premonition of the moment; he knew, somehow, knew how shaken he’d be to conceive her in it, knew how it was going to shatter into his soul, and he suddenly felt like he needed to sit. He grasped the edge of a nearby counter, covered in scraps of fabric, cloth scissors, pins and measuring tapes. He could see the bits of silken gold that were scattered there, and his heart lept into his throat.

“Dearest, come with me,” Morgan cooed to him, taking his long hand in her elegant lace fingers. “Claire will accompany Mackenzie to her gown while I escort you to your guise for this splendid evening. I trust you won’t need my help to dress, so I will then leave you and ensure that your beloved is fitted like a glove.”

“No, indeed, Morgan, I think I can manage.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Kenzie, who was looking at him with wildly bright eyes, biting into her lip, fingers gripping Claire so hard they looked white. See you soon, baby. He smiled at her, his heart pounding wildly. I love you, Kenzie, I love you, then Morgan was pulling him away with a surprisingly tight grip, to a side-room in the opposite direction of where Claire was forcefully guiding Kenzie, whispering animatedly into her ear. Duncan looked ahead, turning away from them with reluctance, and felt his heart rebound again, his breath catching--the blazer Morgan had created for him was on a rolling black dress form in the center of the room, immediately drawing his eye with its cascading metallic gold on crushed black velvet, a silk Oxford underneath it with strikingly intricate gold tips. He moved towards it immediately, reaching out a hand almost involuntarily to touch it--the gold was like dripping stardust, smooth and soft, like trails of falling stars smeared across the heavens, dripping down into the emptiness of space. This is how I feel when she touches me, he thought again. I feel like she’s spreading gold all over me, all down my body, into the secret, sensitive spaces of my heart, like I can taste her in my throat and the taste is beyond any taste I’ve ever experienced, beyond exquisite, beyond all other delights. He could see that the gold tips of the collar were each an intricate cage of lace, reminding him of the bracelet Kenzie had worn that night they first met--a cage that wove around me, and brought me in forever.

“Morgan,” he breathed. “This is extraordinary.”

Morgan was grinning at him, her eyes closing behind her huge cat-eye glasses.

“My darling, I know well that it is, but thank you. You have truly inspired me--the glory of such luminous love, good heavens. As an artist, to behold such emotion is to be moved to create. I can see that at heart, you are a romantic, and that perhaps, in the past, you have been moved to conceal it for fear of exposure to the cruelty of the world. We who wear black feel the heavy idyll of life, the drama of every moment, and we feel it most acutely. In our grief, in our ennui, and yes, in love. And this love is extraordinary--for you, it has healed your soul. Therefore, you must look the part. Gold leaf was my tool, and 18 karats for the tips, a perfect compliment, I see, for the Cartier.” She glanced down at his wrist, and Duncan nodded to her.

“I leave you to it.”

With that, Morgan turned and left, shutting the door behind her. Duncan breathed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he opened them again--yes, it was still here, this miraculous coat made from gold, made of stardust. He breathed deeply. Get ready for Kenzie. He lifted his shaking fingers to his collar, his skin flushed, his mind aching.

--------

Duncan emerged twenty minutes later, gazing down at his sleeves, their gold mesmerizing. Morgan had laid the tailored black chinos that completed his look on a table next to the dress form, but he wore his signature Yves Wyatt boots on his feet still, and knew he’d wear them to the Gala as well; they complimented the look shockingly well. He moved over to Morgan’s oblong white table and pulled one of the white chairs closer to the center of the room, looping his long legs on either side of it, sitting carefully. The room was quiet, but he could hear the soft strains of Kenzie and Claire’s voices in the room beyond, the lilt of Kenzie’s excitement, and it was making his body vibrate with the desire to see her, his heart slamming painfully into his ribcage. He slid one hand along his jaw, index and middle fingers trailing along his bottom lip. Oh my fucking god, Kenz, I’m on fire waiting for you. He could feel the twinge of his cock straining under the tight chinos, wondered how he’d ever be able to stand the cock ring teasing him all night. I’m going to want to eat her alive by the end. He thought of the Bacchanalian revelry of The Youth of Bacchus, the dancing figures, stoked by a frenzy of wine and energy of a wanton god of ecstasy. It was as if he could feel that same energy beginning to stir around the corners of the day--could feel it being stoked up, being kindled, like the first strains of a tornado drifting down from a dark, stormy sky. The wild wine god comes tonight. He will stoke the lust of the people to debauchery, as now he pushes my senses toward my need for her. My Ariadne, draped in stars. Tonight, the party. Tonight, the wine god comes. He shivered.

The door Claire and Kenzie had disappeared into opened; Claire came out, Morgan behind her in her silent, cool way--Claire looked at Duncan approvingly, her eyes rapt.

“Wow, fuck, Duncan. You look fucking gorgeous. Not that you don’t always,” and she blushed deeply, a hand coming up to her cheek. “Everyone’s going to lose their shit. Okay, listen. Are you ready for this goddess?”

“Is it possible for me to be ready for this?” Duncan’s hand shook as he brought it down from his jaw, his question an earnest one to Kenzie’s best friend.

“Probably not. Take a deep breath.”

He shuddered one into his lungs. Make sure you breathe. He gave her a shaky nod.

“Kenzie,” Claire called through the doorway, stepping aside. Morgan moved to stand beside Duncan, for a longer view. “Your Prince is ready for you.”

For a moment no one stirred, then Duncan saw Kenzie’s little hand push at the door, pressing it open wider; an uncalculated moan fell from Duncan’s lips as he saw her, and he had to shut his eyes for a moment, had to catch his breath again, dizziness wiping over him, the ache in his cock returning full force. He forced his eyes open--she was staring at him, her mouth having fallen open, her eyes sparkling with sudden moisture, obvious even from the distance between them.

“Duncan,” she breathed.

“No, baby, no--you. You.”

Kenzie’s dress was gold.

Pure gold, a cascade of lamé that draped and pleated all around her, its opulent folds falling in drifts that hugged at her tiny waist and curving hips, gathering down to trail at the floor, her left leg visible above the thigh from a long slit that ran down the gown’s length. Its rivels, shimmering and weaving like the waves on the ocean’s surface, reminded him of how he’d always imagined the robes of the gods on Mount Olympus to appear; of a fabric not known to man, drifting as if in some phantom wind, too exquisite a fabric to be called silk, softer than the light of moonbeams on quiet forest floors in deepest night. One of the sleeves draped down her left arm, dipping almost to the crook of her elbow; the other lifted over her shoulder from a draping fold that began at the sharp tailoring at her waist and lifted over half the tailored bodice of the front of the gown, her breasts emphasized by two sewn cups and careful boning, outlining the form of her bust. Her throat and collarbones were bare, her skin exquisite in its whiteness above so much gold. The thin line of sleeve that went over her shoulder from the pleats continued to extend down her back--Kenzie turned, her eyes inside his, to show him the breathtaking drift of a long train that fell to the floor from her right shoulder blade, another rusch of fabric across her back below to her left shoulder. The train continued along the ground for several feet, its gold like spilled liquid, impossible in its lovely softness; the train of a princess, of a queen, of a goddess in a painting, a fairy tale come to life, and here she stands before me, somehow real, impossibly real. I should be struck dumb to behold her.

Kenzie turned back to him, and he could see the delicate bones of her clavicle quivering, the shiver of her golden hair over her shoulder, its waves like silk to him, the depth of the hazel of her eyes (ambrosia, the golden honey of holy bees, the green of emeralds, the russet of topaz and tiger’s eye). Her little hands were fumbling in front of her stomach, and the nervous curve of her mind was creeping up against him, like an electrical current. You look so fucking beautiful, baby, she was thinking, and the lump that rose in his throat threatened to shatter his composure.

Kenzie, it’s not me. It’s you. You’re a goddess. You’re truly a goddess. You’re too beautiful to describe. I don’t know if you can feel how I feel to look at you in this moment, but if you can even a little, you know I can’t...there are no words I know of. I can’t find words for how beautiful you are. You pierce my heart. I should build you a temple and leave you a garden of roses there every day. Duncan stood, his legs shaking. Claire and Morgan were quiet--they seemed to sense the intensity of the emotion that drifted in the room; Duncan heard Claire sniffing quietly, in tears.

Suddenly, quickly, Duncan and Kenzie had rushed together--his feet had carried him so quickly his mind seemed to follow after him, trying to catch up, and his hands were grasping hers with a tenderness that made his body ache, made his breath catch, they were falling, devotedly, down the easeful curve of the dress, the warmth of her body beneath it sending a shiver down his spine, the gold bracelet at his wrist disappearing into her gold, devoured by it.

“Holy fuck, baby,” he whispered. “Holy fuck.”

Persephone, my flower dipped in gold. Kenzie didn’t speak, but he knew she accepted the drift of his thought.

Hades, my shadowed prince draped in falling stars. She tilted her head to him, her little fingers coming up to drift over the caged golden tips of his collar as the diamonds at her wrist winked against the gold leaf of his velvet jacket, and she kissed him, her mouth a holy tremor on his lips, his prayer to her accepted, as it ever was.

[tinkiisms]

Tink & Simon || dealer verse

with @memoriies / @neverbcy

beginning: on the blog

continued on discord and compiled here, PART I

And then she was kissing back, pulling him in and he knew that he'd made the right choice. Some times he really need to listen to his instincts - his impulses.

So he allowed himself this luxury, the luxury of deluding himself into believing this was anything more than a fling between two people who pined for a love they would never get. It hurt to see Bell every time Peter rejected her, turning to his obsession with Wendy instead, but it hurt more to know deep down that he was doing exactly the same thing to himself, just with her.

Forcing himself to push those persistent thoughts down, Simon decided to just relish the moment. Never turn down the one thing that made it all bearable - the main reason he was still there. He could lie to everyone and say it was simply loyalty and fear that kept him in line, but he didn't have to share who he was loyal to. Who's life he feared for...

Hands sliding into her hair to hold her closer, pretending in that moment that she was all his and nothing was about Peter, he deepened the kiss - harsher, but the gentleness was still ever present. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

So he would just hurt himself to make her happy.

If Bell understood the consequences of partaking of the forbidden fruit, she might not have been so hasty to touch, to get her lips on Simon. Then again, if she were a pious woman to begin with she wouldn't have done any of the things in her life that had brought her here, to this moment. And as anyone--god-fearing or god-forsaken alike--knew, the problem with forbidden fruit was that it tasted so...

Good God. He made Peter seem like a boy.

Comparisons kept her grounded. Allowed her to remember who she was and pull herself back when she threatened to get lost in the feeling. What was that? The feeling that she was the ONLY thing in Slightly's world right now. He wasn't halfway to somewhere else, with someone else. She didn't get exclusive rights to Peter's thoughts even when she gave him every part of her.

This was new. Being kissed like she was the only one. For today, damn, she was lucky he wasn't in love.

He felt as though he were in a dream - surely none of this would be happening in real life... Life wasn't fair to Simon, never had been, so why start now? Then he remembered how unfair his life still was, because life liked to dangle happiness in front of him before ripping it away.

He'd been holding her close, letting Bell pick the pace, the intensity, not wanting to overstep. Losing himself in a false world where everything was kind to them both, and allowed the pair a happy ending.

Then a phone started to ring.

Her phone.

One glance at the screen told him who was calling.

Peter.

Of course there was an interruption now, when things were finally getting interesting around here. Right when she was in the middle of something good, a catch just had to pull her away. Bell only hoped Simon wouldn't take such an interruption as a sign that they shouldn't be doing...whatever this strange, wonderful thing was that they were doing.

Breaking away from their embrace was like coming up for air--resisting the temptation to dive back in almost impossible. She managed it with a flash of annoyance at their fun being disrupted, but that melted away like snow in spring as she checked the phone and saw who was calling.

Sitting up and adjusting herself mentally for a moment, she cleared her throat and picked up the call with a chirpy, “Hello.”

Simon moved further down the sofa from her as she answered, the fantasy world fading away into the bleak reality that he was in. He should have known this would happen - he never got to have too much happiness.

Something would always come along and snatch it up, telling him he'd had his time.

__

“Where are you?” He didn't bother greeting her, his goal was not to chat.

Peter glared around his room, eyes red and damp, body shaking with a mixture of anger, sadness, and craving.

She'd done it again. Floated into his life, told him this time it would be permanent, if he cleaned up. He'd been sober for a week before Wendy claimed he was too negative and upsetting to be around any more.

It should have been expected, they had a pattern now. She came, he tried to quit his 'nasty habits', she left, he went to Bell, repeat.

That tone was too easily recognizable. Bell was sure she couldn't keep her face from falling as she realized what state Peter was likely in, and exactly who had caused it. Wendy had reentered his life recently, pushing her to the sidelines; next step was pre-written. They'd been through the cycle plenty enough times before, and yet she had been swept up in it every time.

She still was. With her happiness so attached to, dependent on his, Peter's heartbreak was her own. And perhaps for selfish reasons, too, because she knew these times were the ones where he seemed to need her the most. It wasn't the same as wanting, appreciating, loving, but being needed was at least something.

Signaling to her guest with an apologetic expression and a motion that suggested she needed to handle this, she put their situation on the back-burner for Peter's without second thought. “I'm home. What do you need?”

Relief swam through his body and he stood from his bed, grabbing a jacket as he made his way to the front door.

"I'm coming over."

No questions, no asking if he could come over - it would be pointless to ask even if he had thought to, the answer was always yes. Peter simply grabbed his keys, tugged on some shoes, and was out of the door headed to Bell's home.

__

That signal was all he needed, to know it was that time of the month. Wendy had finally given up on Peter again, and he was building himself back up by using Bell as a way to feel better. It had taken longer than in the past, usually lasting only a few days before she left...

Simon knew that Wendy wasn't exactly good news, but he couldn't help but love when she was around. Perhaps it was because she made Peter slightly more bearable in those periods of time, or perhaps it was because it gave him the freedom to see Bell if he wanted.

Rising from the sofa, Simon didn't even glance back in Bell's direction before walking out.

Not two minutes after leaving was he suddenly slammed into a wall by a violent (and clearly experiencing withdrawals) Peter. He immediately regretted not leaving the instant he saw the caller ID.

__

Peter didn't live far from Bell, and when he was like this he really stopped giving a shit about road laws, speeding through the streets on his motorcycle. He'd not left the apartment long after telling her he'd be over, and it had taken him even less time than usual to make it there.

Which is how he saw Simon leaving the building. No one Simon knew, other than Bell, lived in that building.

Rage rolled over him, and he tackled the other man into the nearby wall. Not waiting for a response, he grabbed Simon by his collar and dragged him back inside, angrily knocking on the door. “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”

His blunt answer sent her heart into a dizzying spiral. He could be over in a matter of minutes if he was leaving from where he lived--the click of the call ending told her she didn't have time to explain to him that she wasn't alone or tell Simon to get lost. Luckily her fox boy was clever enough to clue in before she could say anything and had already walked, leaving her to head to the window and watch his exit. Was that twinge of regret she felt because she would have been happy to continue their tryst a little longer, or because she may have put him in a dangerous spot?

If Peter were to catch Bell with any of the guys--the closest things after her that he had to “friends”--the chaos that would follow was...was unfolding before her eyes. Flinching at the sight of the collisions, Peter into Simon, Simon into the wall, imagining the felt them in her own gut, she tore her gaze away. No, oh no no no. What could she do? Would her presence ease Peter's fury or agitate it further?

She didn't need to answer that. Bell found herself at the door moments later without knowing how she got there, ready to rush down and intervene, but something overwhelming and oppressive as a dark cloud stopped her from turning the knob. Visceral fear. She must have stood there long enough for them to enter the building and march upstairs, which she hardly realized until the banging and shouts of Peter's demand shocked her back into action.

Shaking, she turned the knob and let the door swing open. Took two steps back to allow Peter and his anger to fit through.

“What is this?” she asked, using her flushed face to her advantage as she improvised an ignorant reaction. For all she knew, one of her dealers had just left her apartment from a quick chat about business only to be accosted by Peter on the way out.

Simon was practically thrown into the apartment, stumbling into an end table, almost knocking objects off of it. His heart was racing, life flashing before his eyes. It was a shit one...

Full of fear, addiction, lies and pain. He only wished Bell wasn't also going to have to deal with this.

His one regret was not being fast enough to save Bell from Peter.

__

After unceremoniously throwing the taller man into the apartment, Peter slammed the door shut behind himself. He was like a thunder storm, ready to strike at these traitors with lightning.

“Don't try to bullshit your way out of this, Bell! What was he doing here?!”

An accusatory finger was pointed at Simon, who was trying desperately to make himself seem small and invisible whilst glancing at the woman between them. Those glances only served to make Peter angrier. He recognised that look - he'd seen it in himself, and he'd seen it in Bell. The fear of losing someone you wanted.

A small, unexpected noise escaped her throat as she saw Simon shoved into a table...She had messed up and Peter was taking it out on him. Punishing him for nothing but the transgressions SHE had pushed him into, because SHE had strayed. But despite the violence in his voice, Peter hadn't laid a finger on her yet; if he was lashing out at the other man because he couldn't hurt her...Well, it didn't make it okay, but maybe it was because he cared about her. Actually cared, enough to get jealous.

Hating herself for even wanting this sort of vicious, possessive attention, she felt the speed of her heartbeat increase to a hummingbird pace. Nevertheless, she didn't want to see anyone hurt, so she approached Peter with what she hoped was a calming demeanor as she tried to soothe his concerns. Bullshit excuses or not, her love was genuine. Couldn't that alone give him some peace of mind?

“He was here to talk pixie dust; that's all. I told him to go when you called because I thought you wanted to...have a private conversation.” They all knew what that meant. It was a believable enough reason for the situation he'd caught them in--all he'd seen was Simon leaving. Peter must have known that if Bell ever expected anything from him, she wouldn't hesitate to kick her own grandmother out.

The fire in his eyes was suddenly directed straight at Bell, no longer concerned with Simon. She was lying to his face, and being so fucking calm about it.

“How stupid do you think I am?” The volume had lowered considerably, to the point where Peter would have seemed calm if not for the fierce tone and the burning anger in his face.

“Do you honestly think I've not seen the way he looks at you? But I left it alone, because I believed that you were smart enough to not want anything to do with him. That he was smart enough to not even try.”

Peter then glanced back over at Simon, who was breathing heavily, eyes clenched shut. Regret painted across his face, it only proved Peter right. And then he was moving, towards Bell. She would either step back, until he trapped her, or stand her ground and get forcibly moved into the nearest wall. That was her choice.

His voice dropped to an almost whisper, dripping with a poison that threatened to burn her from the inside.

“I guess you're both talented at lying. I'd say you deserved each other if it wasn't for one thing.” A hand suddenly reached out and grabbed Bell's upper arm in a vice like grip - adrenaline overpowering the weakness that came from withdrawal.

“You both forget that I don't share my toys.”

“I don't know what you mean--” she began, looking for the right combination of words that would stop his anger, stop him in his tracks as he backed her against the wall. True ones or false, warm ones or bitter. Were there any words of any language to placate that hell-born passion? She could fight to be believed, but when Peter got something into his head, he was stubborn as a bull. Even if she had been telling the truth, he probably wouldn't have believed her anyway.

She had been lying, though. It was her fault they were in this mess. She couldn't meet his eyes even as he grabbed her in a bruising hold and whispered words that sounded like threats. Her own fell on Simon and she could have laughed at the irony if she weren't so distressed. Not half an hour ago he'd also been pressing her to the wall, yet with none of the force and ferocity of Peter's grasp. She'd been the one making teasing remarks about Peter's property. It was like he was now unwittingly giving her what she'd asked for.

But she wouldn't admit to betraying Peter if it killed her.

“You're the only one I want,” she said, looking back at him. Her voice rose in intensity as she continued, “You know you are. I've always been here for you!”

You're the only one I want. Those words sliced through Simon like a knife, unable to hide the slight flinch that came with the pain. He was just a placeholder - a way for Bell to entertain herself until the main attraction decided she was worth his time again.

And yet some small part of him still wanted to protect her.

“I was just giving her the money I owed her, that's all. She's already made it clear that you're the only guy she'll ever be interested in.”

He was staring intensely at Peter, refusing to give Bell the satisfaction of seeing him acknowledge anything they'd had before this moment. Only bitterness.

___

Simon's voice had his head whipping around to glare at him, taking in everything he said. That bitterness... He wasn't a good actor, and it amused Peter to know that Simon was so hurt by Bell's disinterest. There was no way that could be faked.

But he didn't quite believe the reason for Simon's visit. Letting go of her, as if she was a burning piece of metal, Peter marched over to Simon and punched him - the man reeling back with a hand flying to his now bleeding nose. Then there were more punches, and it pleased him greatly to know that even when experiencing withdrawals, he still had the upper hand.

Simon was on the ground, shaking and bleeding as Peter crouched down, forcing the injured man to look up at him.

“If I ever see you on the same fucking street as Bell or her apartment, I'll have your heart removed and I will give it to her as a gift, just to watch her reject it again.” He was grinning, the anger still in his eyes was now mingling with a sick amusement.

“Now get out.”

__

Almost immediately, Simon was scrambling to his feet and wrenching the front door open, the slam of it closing followed him down the stairs as he tried to stop the bleeding, any of the bleeding. He was done. Moving, gone. A ghost.

He'd sell the last of his supply, keep the money for himself (how could he pay his supplier anyway? It was Bell), sell his crappy apartment and find somewhere new to live. Audition for the band and hope more than anything that they'd take him.

Relieved of his painful grasp on her arm, she was actually thinking for the tiniest sliver of a second that her words had reached some small sensitive part of Peter deep down, that he'd leave off them knowing he had no reason to think Simon was a threat. How silly of her. Her delusion of peace--why should she ever have expected it--was shattered instantaneously, as was possibly Simon's nose.

“PETER!” Her shriek was so high and breathless it wouldn't have done any good even if Peter was inclined to listen to her protests. The rest of her screams to stop, don't take it out on him, he did nothing, stop, went similarly unanswered. She attempted to hold his arm, only to be thrown back with his next swing. Giving up quickly on fruitless efforts--it never helped--she defaulted to the other option: she scooted away and shut her mouth. That was all she could do in the face of the bloody mess being made of her dear friend right in front of her eyes. Too small, too weak, too useless to stop it.

And then he was gone, gone for good and she was to blame. He didn't have the kind of money for hospital bills, and who was there at home to treat an injury if it was serious? If she had just kept her big mouth shut to begin with, hadn't let her arrogance get the better of her in thinking she could slip something past Peter and drawn Simon into all of this...Did she dare to hope it was over with him now out of sight?

Her voice was hardly audible in the wake of the storm that had just come through as she said, questioningly, “Peter?”

The aftermath had him drained of all the energy his adrenaline had provided. Peter tentatively rubbed his split knuckles, shaking and sweating once more with need. Turning to face her, his chest rapidly rising and falling, Peter looked so vulnerable, as if he could break at any moment.

“Pixie dust...” He managed to mutter, before making his way into the living room, to collapse on the sofa as nausea rolled through him like an ocean wave. She would have some, she always did, and he could rely on that. He needed it, he felt like he was staring at death and unable to move away.

The anger eventually subsided into a sadness that clung to his heart, like brambles that stuck to clothes as you desperately tried to get out, tugging painfully. It was only due to his heightened emotional state, and lack of drugs in his system, that Peter started to cry.

His lack of an answer, the visible weakness in his physical and mental state were enough proof that his outburst was over. In the ebb she melted, and immediately metamorphosed from plaything to caretaker. No one else would pick up the pieces. Deciding to clean up the mess in her apartment later, check up on Simon after Peter had been handled, she moved to bring him a fresh packet of dust and a glass of water.

Kneeling beside his spot on the couch, she almost offered over the drugs, but paused. Times when Peter needed something from her were the only ones when he didn't speak over her. Whether he was addled with withdrawal or not, she had a duty to herself to at least try to make him understand what effect his actions had on those around him. Let alone the physical injury to one of her best friends and dealers, but the emotional distress he put on anyone and everyone who associated with him.

“Peter, you can't DO shit like this anymore. I know it's because of that...bitch, Wendy...but you can't just take it out on everyone else!” His tears were enough to push hers over the edge as well, and they trailed down her face undisturbed as she reached out to wipe Peter's away with a finger.

He seemed unresponsive to her words, just continuously shaking with tears rolling down his cheeks. Sure, there'd be a brief time when he'd listen - when his sadness over Wendy leaving turned to a bitter want of revenge, and he would self destruct instead. Attack the very thing that she'd tried to make 'perfect'.

That also wouldn't last long, because Bell would try to stop him and then it would affect how much money they were making.

The second her finger touched his face, his hand snapped up to hold her wrist. It took a couple of seconds before he then tugged her closer and buried his head in her shoulder, arms tightly wrapped around her as he cried into her. Muffled ‘sorry’s and ‘I'm sorry’s were spoken into her shoulder through the tears.

He was well and truly vulnerable in this kind of state. It was almost sad that it took so much to make him even remotely decent, even if it was just for a few moments...

No answer but his delayed embrace and the quiet apologies that poured out with his tears. No way to know if he understood her or was just so broken that he would say anything to earn a fraction of forgiveness in the aftermath of his outburst. But he had never had to beg for scraps with her. She was a goner by the time he pulled her in close and tied her up in his shaking arms.

Bell crawled the rest of her body onto the couch alongside him so she could make a better cushion for him to wrap around--cry into. She tried to soak up his sadness, but it didn't matter how much she took from him; it was an endless spring from within Peter. Nothing would EVER be enough to quell it. No amount of surrogate motherly affection from half-present girlfriends, mind-numbing hallucinogens or support from a silly girl who thought she could mean something to him. She would never be enough.

It was a masochistic game to be a player in. Give her heart away to a reckless boy who dropped it each time. Pick up the pieces and hand them right back. Watch him tear himself apart every day in the name of self-medication. Pick up the pieces. Watch him break his own heart every other week. Pick up the pieces. Watch as he brutalized one of the only people in her life who might genuinely like her. Pick up the pieces. Over and over.

The new position only had him holding her tighter, whispers subsided back into quiet sobs that echoed slightly through the room. He hated to cry, especially in front of anyone​, but his heart hurt too much for him to give a damn any more.

Eventually, after about half an hour, Peter's head rose from her shoulder, tear stained and incredibly pale.

“I'm done with her, Bell. This is the last time I let her in.”

Lies.

“She doesn't care about me - not like you do. I'm sorry I push you away,” a soft kiss was then pressed to the corner of her mouth. “I'll never do that again...”

More lies.

How long would it last this time? He acted as if there was a real choice between her and Wendy. Like he would actually stay by her side next time the perfect, polished primadonna came waltzing into his life and tried to change him. Bell had never been his first choice before--why would she start to be one now? She told herself not to believe it, not to fall for those pretty words that fell from tender lips. She told herself not to be drawn in by those eyes that promised peace but delivered poison.

But it had been really bad this time...Worse than ever before, and though it was record-breaking every time, it had been so bad he might truly refuse to go through it again. Bloody and tragic, and yet here she was, holding onto him despite it all. Had he finally learned who was always here by his side no matter the circumstances or the cost? She made herself sick by smiling into his kiss, but the slimmest possibility was worth the risk. If he wanted to feed her lies, she would make excuses to eat them up.

And so she picked up the pieces. And handed them back to the boy.

Her smile had him smiling softly, and this was perhaps the softest he's ever been. Moving in for another kiss, Peter closed his eyes and willed for his heart to heal once more. Let her put it back together again, and he wouldn't hurt so much.

Though a small thought in the back of his mind piped up, reminding him that he'd leave her again as soon as he was whole once more.

He probably should have cared, but he didn't.

Enjoying the small part of Peter's heart Bell could touch, the attention she so craved which he rarely allowed her, she allowed time to slip away as they held one another. After a while she noticed a fresh wave of his swetaing and tremors hitting him hard, effects she couldn't cure with all the affection in her arsenal, and gave him a fix of his favorite medicine. Poison in a pretty package. Eventually they moved to her bed and the rest of the night swirled by in a sweet blur, but as always he was gone by morning's light.

It took her longer than usual to get ready that day, head feeling full of cotton and eyes bleary but filled with a sense of strange calm and peace. Even numbness as she cleaned the dried blood from Peter's jealous attack on Simon the previous night and showered away the remnants of his scent on herself. She chose a top that covered the bruise blooming on her upper arm and set off to meet her sister.

Peri's apartment was in a much nicer area as opposed to the seedy neighborhoods Bell frequented, and she felt a small sense of relief at ringing the bell and not feeling the pressing need to look over her shoulder.

[the-hollow-crow]

Like footprints on the shore

Eruri week day 1. Prompt: reincarnation au.

This is my very first aot/eruri fanfic, hope you guys like it! (Keep in mind that English isn’t my first language. Also, I don’t know how to add a “Read more” link, I’m sorry >.>)

After many turns and hills, a car stopped in front of a two-floored villa on the top of a hillock near the sea. While the first floor was occupied by a small family, the second, made up of two different apartments, was still vacant. Or better, it wasn’t going to be anymore. A jet black haired man jumped off the vehicle taking his sunglasses off. It was a pretty hot summer day, and the sun was shining high in the sky, not a cloud to be seen, as if the weather reflected his mood: he had been waiting for that moment for years. After his loving mother Kuchel had moved to another country because of work, he had been living in a hovel with his cold and ruthless uncle, Kenny, until he left him too, but now, it was time for him to leave those times behind. Just like in his past life. Everything seemed to be the same, besides the era, the environment and people. Especially people: he still had to meet all of his old friends. He had always waited, hoping to see them again someday, but that day didn’t seem to come… or did it? Do they still remember me like I do? was the question that kept popping up in his mind every now and then. Even if some of his memories were fading away, most of them were still vivid. However, he was afraid of losing the most important one. He knew that one day, he was going to forget him, and he couldn’t do nothing about it. He just had to accept it. Before going upstairs, he greeted the family, which was having lunch in the garden right outside the house. The only man of the group, father of two young twin girls, stood up, walked towards him and shook his hand. “It’s been a long time, Levi. Do you-” Levi’s eyes widened. “Mike? That Mike? Is that Nanaba?” the shorter man moved to his side so he could see the blond woman, who waved at him with a gentle smile. “Yup. And those two little “brats” are our daughters, Lily and Rose. When you called for more info about the house, I immediately recognized your voice, and there aren’t many Levi’s around. So, do you need some help to move your stuff upstairs?” “Y-yes…” Hope filled Levi’s heart. “Maybe he remembers too” he thought. The men took all the bags and boxes out form the car and brought them in front of Levi’s new house and in the process Levi kept smiling inside, overjoyed by the thought of his past-life lover. “And… we’re done. Here’s the key. I gotta go back to eat, unless I want Nanaba to kill me. Just tell me if you need something else, okay?” “Sure, thanks a lot.” Levi opened the door after two clicks. The house wasn’t too big nor too small: on the right side there was a cozy living room with a small TV in front of a red sofa, and another door, which led to the smaller of the two bedrooms. On the left there was a table with four chairs, right in front of the kitchen. Lastly, two doors in the middle led to the bathroom and to the main bedroom. Before taking everything out of the luggage, Levi headed towards the kitchen to make some tea in order to regain some energy after the long trip. Not a spot could be seen on the furniture: how could Mike forget about Levi’s obsession? While his hands were busy placing stuff on shelves, his head was still in the clouds. “I can’t wait any longer. Where are you?”

“Hey, Mike.” “Yes, my dear?” “Does he know it yet?” “No, I first want him to settle in then I… Wait, maybe I don’t even need to tell him, he’ll discover it by himself.” “I can already see him crying… poor guy, he must have missed him a lot…”

A ray of sunshine hit Levi’s tired eyes. Surprisingly, he had slept a little bit more than usual. The day before had been pretty tiring and he really needed some rest. After getting up from the bed making sure not to mess it up, he went outside to take a breath of fresh sea breeze. Waves could be heard crashing against cliffs, the wind was blowing gently trough trees’ crowns and Levi’s hair, messing up his dark locks. The scenery reminded him of the first time he and his remaining comrades saw the ocean for the first time in their life and how empty he felt without his commander by his side. Even if he was living a new life, he was still “enjoying” the view alone. Sighing, Levi stepped back into the house to have breakfast. He filled a bowl with hot tea and waited for it to cool down a bit, staring at it blankly while stirring the drink with a spoon. His mind couldn’t help but think of the past: the day he joined the survey corps, or when he became captain, the moment he saw the person he cared the most about coming back from a battle without an arm and all the times he had spent with him like… like… Levi closed his eyes and furrowed his brows. Something prevented him from recalling what were the only happy memories of that nightmare of a life. He took a sip from the bowl. “I’m just tired. All I need is some tea and I’ll feel better.” Unfortunately, as days went by, remembering was getting harder and harder and Levi would usually pace around the house trying not to forget what had made him smile in the darkest times. Warm, desperate tears came down his eyes when he couldn’t recall his first kiss. He slammed a fist onto the table, acknowledging there was no way to stop what had started. Although, he decided to write down everything he could remember, so that it wouldn’t be lost forever.

A knock on the door brought Levi back to reality. It was Mike. “Hey Levi, Nanaba and I are going out with the kids and I don’t know what time we’re coming back, so I wanted to tell you that someone’s gonna come next-door soon. Please, give him a warm welcome, don’t make him feel uncomfortable and be nice. He’s a friend of mine and he rented the house for two weeks. I’m sure you two will get along.” “Alright, thanks for telling me.” Levi looked at his “pajama”, which only consisted of a pair of boxer shorts. It was 11pm and he was about to go to bed. “I’ll get ready in no time. See you later.” Levi spent the next thirty minutes dressing up and wondering who could it be, when a honk told him he was about to discover it. With a white, tight shirt and black pants, Levi left his house and went downstairs to meet the new guy. His car, a convertible, looked pretty expensive and the trunk and the backseats were full of suitcases. The door opened, revealing a tall and muscular blonde man with a roman nose and kind blue eyes. “Hi! Is this Mike Zacharia’s house? I’m Er-” Levi felt his heart stop. He walked slowly towards the man, looking at him right in the eyes. “-win Smith.” the shorter man completed the sentence. Silence was surrounding them, when the other broke it, stuttering some confused words before pronouncing four letters that meant the world for him. “Levi? I- You- I…” Levi stopped him again, pulling him by the shirt collar and kissing him with a fiery passion that had to wait other thirty three years to burn again. Erwin caressed Levi’s face with one hand and held him close with the other, happy to feel him between his arms again . Tears of joy fell down their cheeks. Neither of the two wanted to pull away, they felt like they could have stayed like that forever. The kiss broke only when both of them were gasping for air, hugging each other tightly. Erwin’s warm embrace made Levi smile like nothing else would. “I missed you, old man.” Levi was the first one to speak. “Where have you been all this time?” he asked with his head turned up to face the blonde. Unlike the kiss, their eye contact never broke “I should ask you that too. Well, I-” “Hey, stories can wait. I think we should bring all of your fancy suitcases upstairs first.” Erwin crossed his arms and faked a grumpy pout “Let me talk for once!”

“Wow, that was a lot of stuff you’ve brought with you. And you’re only gonna stay for… two weeks?” Levi’s voice tone dropped a little towards the end. “Yeah, at least that’s what I’ve planned…” Erwin knew he wouldn’t have let him leave so easily. “I think I can stay a little more. I gotta ask my boss first.” Levi sighed. “I see…You’ve never had free time, not even in this life. Ever thought of giving yourself a break?” Erwin chuckled at his words, the same words he had heard when he was a commander. They hadn’t changed a little. Levi had never stopped worrying about him and he had always put work before all else. They were sitting on the roof, above a wide terrace that linked their houses. All the lights were turned off and the only light source were the moon and the stars. Crickets were chirping in the background and some bats could be seen flying around, as if they were dancing to that fast-peaced melody. “…My parents are still alive and my current job is less stressing and tiring than being a commander. I also get paid a lot more than in my past life.” “Well, your life hasn’t been as shitty as mine. I used to be a bartender in a club, but, needless to say, moving here meant leaving my job. I still didn’t get to meet my father, my mother and uncle don’t remember anything and it took me over thirty years to meet you guys. But now…” Levi stopped for a second, tangled his hand in Erwin’s and rested his head on Erwin’s shoulder. “My wish has been granted. I’m back with you. You have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this moment.” Levi leaned in to kiss him again briefly. “After you died, I thought I would never see you again, but I was wrong. Oh, now that I think about it, the last time we were together on a roof was when you died…” “Hey! Way to kill the mood man!” Erwin protested at Levi’statement laughing. Their hands were trapped one into the other and an hour had passed before the two climbed off the roof. “I guess it’s time to hit the hay…” Levi was about to enter his house when Erwin’s insecure voice stopped him. “Uhm…wanna join me? Just for tonight…” the shorty put on a sad look on his face. “Just for tonight? Aw, that’s too bad.” Levi walked in Erwin’s temporary house and took a quick look: it was a little bigger than his, but the arrangement of the furniture and the rooms was pretty much the same. He had checked out almost every room when he got in front of the door of the main bedroom and stopped for a second, before turning the handle: he knew what was going to happen once he had stepped in there and the thought of it made his heart beat faster than usual. As soon as the door opened, a king sized bed in the middle of the room welcomed him and his dirty thoughts. It was only a matter of seconds before they would have had “fun”. “Oh Levi, you forgot you pajama. Go back and-” Erwin, who had stopped by the kitchen to drink, entered the room, only to find out that his boyfriend was already in bed, apparently naked, wanting for him. “Don’t you want to put some clothes on? It’s pretty chilly tonight.” Levi rolled his eyes and invited Erwin to bed patting a hand on the mattress. “That’s why I need you next to me now. Hurry up and get your ass here.” “You know I don’t take orders from a subordinate.” Erwin started undressing slowly, knowing that Levi would have enjoyed the “show”. A shirt was thrown on the floor next to another one, followed by pants and underwear. Levi couldn’t help but staring while his cheeks and ears turned bright red. “Hey, my head is up here.” Erwin joked, lifting the shorty’s head with a finger. As soon as the blonde got under the covers, Levi climbed on the top of him and hugged him, covering his chest with light kisses. In the meanwhile, a hand was running up and down his back, making him slightly shiver. Catching him off guard, Erwin lifted Levi, who found himself with his back and hands pinned to the bed. He tried to break free from his grip, failing miserably. “You should also know that I hate insubordination.” “So what? Am I going to get punished or something?” Levi smirked, taunting the other man, who kissed him sinking his teeth into his neck, making him groan and arch his back. “I'll… take that as a yes… Ah!” The hands that were once around his wrists were now travelling around him, carefully following every curve. He could feel them brushing against his sensitive chest, waist and southernmost parts, sending him chills down his spine. Moans escaped Levi’s mouth as Erwin’s was working its way down his body. It had been way too much time since the last time they felt like this and the wait had only made everything better. Each time their bodies clashed against each other reminded them offer their old but still unbreakable bond, which had made them meet again in another life. Despite the pain, Levi managed to keep his legs tight around Erwin’s waist, wanting to feel the man deep inside him until his legs begged to stop. Not a word needed to be exchanged.

A clock ticked twelve times when Erwin opened his eyes and saw Levi, sleeping next to him with his hair all over his eye. He looked so relaxed that waking him up would have been a crime, Erwin thought. He had never seen him sleeping more than three hours and now. He could see his chest, still a little “dirty”, moving slowly along his breath. Erwin smiled at the peaceful view and decided to stay with him, playing with his sweaty locks between his fingers. “Ugh… stop it.” Levi slowly turned his back to him. “Morinin’ love. Did you sleep well?” Erwin hugged him from behind, kissing the back of his neck. “Don’t call me like that… What time is it?” “Midday.” The shorter man stood up yawning and rubbed his eyes before absorbing the answer. “Really? Well, I shouldn’t be surprised after what happened last night.” He looked down only to see his body covered in love bites and opalescence. “We really do need to take a bath, don’t we?” Erwin nodded in agreement and followed his lover to the bathroom. Levi stopped him in front of the door “Wait here, we gotta be ready for lunch in time. We’re eating at Mike’s.” “In the meanwhile, I’m going to make up the bed.” “Why do you even bother if we’re gonna mess it up anyway?”

A few minutes later, they were sitting at Mike’s table, together with the rest of the family. It seemed like none of them had heard anything. “They might be pretending… whatever” Levi thought while watching the twins eating. Suddenly, Rose, who was sitting next to him, stared at him right in the eyes with a devilish look on her face, then she got close to Levi’s ears and whispered something: “You guys had fun tonight?” “What?” the girl laughed “Don’t play dumb with me. I have my father’s nose and I noticed you smell different than usual. You smell like Erwin.” “I just had a shower, how-” “Are you underestimating our noses or what? Don’t worry, my dad has told me about you guys. He has always heard everything everytime.” The lunch proceeded smoothly, without any extra inappropriate comment, and the couple spent the whole afternoon with their friends. When they got back to their apartments, the sun was starting to set. Erwin got in his bathers and filled a bag with money, a book, and a towel. “You going to the beach?” “Me? We both are! C'mon, get ready and let’s go. You need to tan a bit, you look really pale. How long have you been living here?” “About two months. And… yeah, I’ve always stayed at home. I don’t like crowded places and the beaches here are usually full of people, especially brats. Also, how do you expect me to come with you with these bite marks all over my back and chest?” In the end, Erwin forced him to wear a t-shirt and go with him. Levi placed the towel on the sand so they could sit down without getting dirty. The sun was turning flame red in the rainbow colored sky. Before going back home, they went for a long walk along the shore, walking hand in hand as their footsteps were being erased by the waves. It was pretty quiet there, and Levi could enjoy the walk listening to the sound of waves instead of babies’ screaming. All of a sudden, Erwin bent over to pick a little stick up and write something on the sand: Erwin+Levi. “Tadaa!” Levi covered his face with a hand and chuckled “God, you’re so embarrassing. Hand me the stick.” He added a heart under the two names. “Now that’s cheesy.”

Erwin opened the fridge looking for something to eat: there was only some fruit, water and other drinks. Disappointed, he looked in Levi’s fridge. “What the hell are you doing with your face in my fridge?” Levi’s voice made him flinch and hit the head against the appliance. “There’s nothing in there, I’m going to the supermarket tomorrow. Go dress up, I’ll wait you in my car.” “Where are we going?” “To a restaurant, unless you don’t wanna starve.” With that being said, Levi left him alone. Erwin, once he heard Levi going down the stairs, took a look around the house. “Even in this life he’s a clean-freak… What’s that?” as soon as he entered the smaller bedroom, which seemed to be Levi’s, a bright green diary caught his eye. He repeated in his mind not to open it many times before curiosity took over him.

«I was born in the underground. My mother worked in a whorehouse and died because of her job and my uncle was an infamous killer. I had two friends, Isabel and Furlan, who both died after we joined the survey corps. I blamed Erwin, who eventually became my commander and lover, for that, and when I was about to kill him, he stopped my blade and gave me a reason to live: fighting for humanity, for my friends and, of course, for him. I wanted to help him follow his dream and ended up falling in love with him.»

«We first kissed…» The sentence was incomplete.

«I used to wear a black jacket, usually worn by someone else.» “By me, how can he not…”an unwanted thought appeared in his mind. Erwin kept reading.

«I used to go for a ride in the wood with my black horse.» “I would usually have dinner with Erwin, so that I could talk to him as lover, not a subordinate.»

«I loved him then. I love him still. Always have. Always will. That’s what really matters.»

“Oi! What is taking you so long?” the shorty shouted after waiting over ten minutes. “I was trying to take a shit, but it just won’t come out.” Erwin quoted him. While he bursted out a hearty laugh, Levi smiled, not really understanding what he thought being an inside joke. The town center wasn’t that far. The restaurant wasn’t full yet, but many people were already walking in the streets, under the yellow lights that brightened up the dark town, alone in the middle of a hill. Erwin and Levi took a sit in what was the only good restaurant. “You come here often?” Erwin asked the other man, skimming the menu. “”Not really, only when Mike and Nanaba do. I know what to order, how ‘bout you?” “I don’t. Give me a sec… Yeah, now I do. You know I’m paying, right?” “Yeah, and it would be useless if I tried to stop you.” “He still remembers this” “Just order whatever you want.” “Have you even read the prices?!” “Yep.” “Alright…” The food arrived in no time. Since the town was near the sea, the main ingredient was seafood. A delicious smell made their stomachs grumble in hunger: it was coming from a stew with mussels and a plate of pasta with clams and gurnar*. “Wow, fis is theliffious!” Erwin tried to say while chewing pasta. “How’s yours?” “Pretty good, first time I eat it.” Everything seems to go well, when Erwin unconsciously started staring at his almost empty plate, thinking of the diary. Part of him wanted to know whether his assumptions were right or wrong, while the other didn’t. “Is something bothering you?” Levi asked concerned. “No, nothing. I was only thinking of what to do after we’re done eating.” That answer didn’t satisfy him “Are you sure?” “Yeah, don’t worry.” “Why don’t we go on that cliff? There’s a gorgeous view up there.” Levi pointed at some stairs that led to a promontory on the sea.

“Hey, I can see my house from here.” “How-? Oh, right, you left the light on. You know you’re gonna pay another kind of bill, right?” Levi jokingly mocked Erwin and then winked at him. The two of them were sitting close to each other on a bench, fighting the cool night breeze. Levi shivered and put himself under Erwin’s arm, when the blonde moved it away from him. “Put it back here!” “Wait…” Erwin unravelled his white scarf and tied it around Levi’s neck like his old cravat. “There you go. Take it, I don’t really need it.” Because of the resemblance between the scarf and the cravat cut out from his mother’s old dress, Levi’s eyes teared up. “I…love it. It smells like you.” He leaned in to kiss him on the lips as a “thank you”. […] “I’ve had the time of my life with you, both last night and today.” Levi cuddle up next to Erwin with his head in the notch of the neck “Goodnight, my love.” “Goodnight, Levi.”

A week and a half had passed by, and the two lovers had never stopped enjoying each other’s presence, forgetting what was going to happen to their memory. They both decided to have fun and live it up as long and as much as they could, going out every now and then, pleasing the other, or just staying together, feeling their soulmate around them.

Eventually, one of them had to suffer. It was Erwin’s second last day of vacation. The night before, Levi had had a strong headache and preferred to sleep in his own bed. Now, he was sitting right outside his door, reading one of Erwin’s magazines. “Morning Levi! Felling better?” “Yes, don’t worry. Oh, by the way, I have something for you.” Levi took something from his wardrobe and handed it to Erwin. It was his scarf. “You gave it to me some days ago and I forgot to give it back to you, I’m sorry, Mr. Smith.” Erwin felt his world crumbling around him, but managed to smile. “You can have it, you look pretty good in it.” “Thanks, I love it.” The answer was the same, the feelings weren’t.

Note: *these are typical Italian dishes

[imaginewithme]

It Won’t Be Her : Part 2

♥

- Minho and Y/N have always been close with one another, the two of them depended on each other, and needed each other push them to get up everyday. He trusted her enough to train the new Greenie in the Maze but what happens if she didn’t make it back to the Glade? -

Word Count : 1477

Part 1  Part 3 Alternate Ending

Minho POV

He watching Y/N’s hair whip behind her as she stormed out of the room.

Great…Now she was in a bad mood. An upset Y/N was the last thing he needed to start his morning and frankly it was the last thing the Glade needed.

Glaring at Thomas, Minho set his pencil and let out a frustrated sigh. “You just had to piss her off, didn’t you?”

“Wh- I didn’t mean to, I just thought-” He was quick to defend himself as the realization of his mistake settled in. His mouth dug himself another grave.

Setting the maps aside, Minho crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. Thomas immediately noticed Minho’s change in body language and shut his mouth. The silence from the Greenie was a welcome change, Minho thought.

“Here’s what I think you need to understand, Thomas. Next to Alby, Y/N works harder than anyone else in the Glade. Harder than me, harder than Newt, and don’t even get me started on you. Not only does she pull her own weight but she picks up everyone else’s too. She’s earned the respect, cross her and you better sleep with your eyes open because if she doesn’t kill you then everyone else will.” Minho stepped closer to the other boy and looked him dead in the eyes. “So unless you can do the same she does, I suggest you know your place, shut your mouth, and do exactly as she says. Since you’re new, I’ll give you a fair warning : she will leave you in the Maze if she deems fit.” Thomas could practically feel the venom from Minho’s words spread through his veins causing a cold shiver running down his spine. “Now get out.”

Thomas sprinted out of the Map Room, wanting no more than to put distance between him and the Keeper of the Runners. Alone, Minho quickly put the maps away. He let muscle memory guide his hands while his mind was clouded with thoughts on one Glader in particular. He could only imagine what it was like for her in the Glade. Closing the doors behind him, Minho combed his fingers through his hair with a sigh escaping his lips.

How was he going to fix this? Alby wouldn’t like it if she actually left him in the Maze and he didn’t want to see her thrown in the Slammer either.

Minho checked his watch, it was almost time for the Runners to head out for the day. He walked towards the Homestead, knowing that she’d be there promising the sleepy Gladers that she’d be back later on in the day. A small smile grew on his face when he saw Y/N leaning over Chuck, giving the small boy a hug in his hammock. She gave him a kiss on the forehead before noticing Minho standing in the door frame. She nodded at him, silently signaling that she’d be out in a moment.

“Yes, Chuckie, I promise I’ll be safe. Don’t worry, I’ll be back later on today.” Minho heard her whisper before walking back out to the open Glade.

That was only one of the things he liked about Y/N, she cared about everyone. Her morning routine started when she became a runner. Every morning she’d go to every Glader and tell them that she’d see them later on in the day. Y/N consistently made her way through everyone before it was time to head out. The girl had a heart of gold and it was what made everyone love her so much. It was what made him love her so much.

The routine always started with Alby and ended to him.

“Hey.”

“Hey, you ok?” He pulled a strand of her hair out of her face.

She sighed and snaked her arms around his waist like she usually did. “Yeah,yeah…I’m ok, Minnie. I should have expected it…”

“No, that’s not something I want you to get used to.” Minho pulled her close and gently pressed his lips to her forehead like he always did. “But it doesn’t matter, just make sure you get back to me safely.”

Y/N smiled at him and gave him a tighter squeeze before letting go. “Don’t I always?” She jogged towards the Maze Entrance, shouting at Thomas to hurry the shuck up as she disappeared into the concrete walls.

Minho watched, an aching feeling eating at his side. Part of him was convinced that she’d make it back to him without any problems but another felt otherwise. It’d be a couple hours until he’d find what would happen.

He knew something was off when he had made it back to the Glade before she and Thomas. Y/N always ran on a tight schedule and usually made it back before he did. He’d always find her waiting for him in the Map Room. Anxiety began to grow in the pit of his stomach but Minho tried to shake it off. He tried to persuade himself not to worry so much, Y/N would make it back before time was up like she always did.

Sighing, Minho hunkered down to draw out his map while keeping on eye on the North Door. He was going to wait for her.

Time was ticking and Minho’s anxiety had grown even more. They still weren’t back yet.

Everyone else had noticed Y/N’s absence and had gathered around the North Door for her. Deciding to join them, Minho ran over to see what was going on. Maybe there was something wrong with the Doors or maybe a fight broke out. He hoped it was anything that didn’t involve Y/N.

The Gladers in front of the door were screaming and yelling but their words weren’t registering to him. Minho pushed through the crowd, shoving some Gladers out of his way when Thomas was suddenly throw down on the grass by his feet.

The Greenie looked like a pile of clunk, shaken and out of breath.

Where was Y/N?

Some of the others pulled him up to his feet but his eyes were glued on the Maze.

Panic skyrocketing to an all time high for the Runner, Minho instantly looked up just before the Doors shut. The last thing he saw was Y/N. She was smiling at him with a sad expression glued on to her face. The picture of tears rolling down her dirt caked cheeks etched itself into his mind as the Doors sealed shut. Silence fell upon the Gladers as the situation

“No!” His voice sliced through the tension. His raw scream shaking the others out of their trance. “Y/N!” Dashing forward, Minho ran up to wall and pounded his fists against the rough surface. He wasn’t going to accept this, he couldn’t.

She was his ray of hope, his sunshine. She was the reason he got up to run through the shucking Maze everyday and now she was gone. Stuck in the Maze that held them captive.

He felt empty inside.

Minho didn’t realize how long he had been hitting the wall until Newt and Alby pulled him away. Fresh blood was smeared against the surface.

“She’s gone, Minho.” Alby said in a solemn tone, his own frown painted on his face. The older boy had given Minho a tight squeeze on the shoulder. “The Baggers will collect her body in the morning. We’ll give her a proper funeral then.”

Minho’s heart dropped as Alby’s words reach his ears. He stood there frozen in place, his fist clenched by his sides.

This couldn’t be happening.

“I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have stayed back.” Regret and guilt spilled out of Thomas’ voice as he tried to get to his feet. “She told me to hurry up…but I didn’t listen. I’m sorry, I-”

“Slim it, Thomas!” Minho shouted with murder on his mind. “What I tell you! What did I say before you ran in there?” Minho roughly grabbed the collar of Thomas’ shirt, hoisting him up.

“Minho!” Newt rushed over to grab his arm, trying to get the Keeper of the Runner to let go.

“I’m sorry-” Before Thomas could finish his sentence, Minho threw him on to the grass with a disgusting look on his face. He then ripped his arm out of Newt’s grasp.

“Get out of my sight.” Minho spat before moving back to the wall that separated he and Y/N. The distant sound of the whirring metal of Grievers echoed through the Glade.

Pressing his bloody and bruised hand against the cool concrete of the Doors, Minho promised that if she was lost in the Maze that he was going to be the one to find her. He swore that if she didn’t make it then he was going to get out of this godforsaken place and kill each and every one of the creators himself.

- To Be Continued -

What did you guys think? Please let me know!  I felt so sad being so mean to Thomas :’c  Did you guys like it? Enough fluff? Was it weird? Please tell me what your thoughts and opinions ♥

OH ALSO I’m still making a forever tag list so if you’d like to be added to that, please message me ♥

Tagged : @superwholock-llama @annibunni15 @awkward–jay @independentgirl @a-little-bit-obsessed @chuckennuggets1213 @iseethemonsters

[mysidewriting]

Through the Storm

Note: I just wanted to let you all know that this story is also being posted on archiveofourown. That is typically an easier reading platform than tumblr, so maybe some of you would prefer that? Just thought I’d put it out there! c: Enjoy~

From the start –> Previous chapter

Chapter Six

Mom was in the middle of filing paperwork for the divorce when I called her, she sniffled frequently enough that I knew she had been crying beforehand. She laughed when I asked if she was okay and pointed out that it was honestly funny how fast it was moving.

She was still handling things eerily well, seemingly even better than I was at times. I hated to think she was hiding things from me, or from anyone… but according to Hau and Kukui - she was doing just fine.

Guzma had shown up at the house but my mother, being the strong minded woman she was, managed to make him feel so annoyed and confused that he left before he could even enter the house. I apologized on Hau’s behalf for the inconvenience but she claimed there wasn’t any issue - Guzma was just a lost soul looking for something to fill the void with. It would take him a while before he realized what was truly important and what to do with his time and life.

With only a few days left in Kanto I made sure to spend as much of the time with Lillie as possible. The day after going through Seafoam and meeting articuno I basically moved back into her room for the remainder of my stay. We spent a lot of our time doing stupid little things like baking sweets for her mother and watching series of movies that we got obsessed with for a few days. We’d made bracelets and collars that matched our Pokémon and now both Kai and Null wore thin colorful collars that matched my thin colorful bracelets.

I loved every second I got to spend with her and knew that once I moved on to Johto I would miss her so much more than I had while in Alola.

I was fearing traveling to Johto now. I didn’t know as many people, didn’t know the region whatsoever. I’d be spending my nights in hotels and Pokémon centers rather than friends’ homes. I feared the loneliness. I feared the next five months for the same reason, though I knew I would eventually get use to the solo wandering.

Hau had Lillie and I video chat with him multiple times in the last week, showing both of us the progress he was making with his team. He’d caught some new friends and they were looking strong, he threatened that the minute I got back to Alola he would steal the champion seat from me. I warned that after I was finished with my traveling I would be even stronger than I had been before, and my team could be entirely new.

We told him ever last thing about our escapade into the Seafoam caves. Lillie sent him all the pictures and video she had taken and Hau was horribly jealous. Jealous of the experience, jealous of me for doing something so fun with Lillie, and jealous that we had hung out with the best trainers in Kanto.

Lillie and Hau now had inside jokes. They were constantly giggling at each other every chance they got. I told Hau to make some moves while she wasn’t around. He was nervous but far more confident now that she was reciprocating all his small advances.

I gave it another two months before the two of them were dating - even if it meant that it was long distance for now.

I hadn’t heard from Gladion since that night before Seafoam. Hau claimed he was busy with work when I’d asked why he hadn’t joined any of the video calls. This meant the last message in our log was ‘talk tomorrow’ which was an oddly depressing note to leave it on. I wanted to tell him about the trip, I wanted to explain what I had seen in articuno’s eyes since he was the only one who would truly understand such an experience with a Pokémon. I feared upsetting him again, considering he wasn’t a big fan of Green, or at least me spending time with Green… but all the words I wanted to pitch in his direction were pilling onto a heavy backlog. I needed to call him soon… I vowed to do so the next time I was alone and bored… something that happened very infrequently when I was living with Lillie and her mother.

A cold wind whipped past me and I quickly hugged myself in an attempt to warm up. It hadn’t been windy like this a few moments ago…? The chill reached to my bone and I pulled my jacket tighter around myself and rushed to the nearest building to get out of the sudden gusts.

I had been wandering just west of Lavender Town, observing all those growlithe I had been tallying off only a week ago. So the first building I managed to enter was within the city limits, in the shadow of the infamous Pokémon tower. Many small Pokémon wandered the house I had entered, cheerfully bouncing around. An elderly man stood at the far end of the room, staring off out the window with a rather dead look in his eye.

“Hello.” I called out, unsettled to see he didn’t react at all to my voice. “Sorry to barge in like this, the wind picked up all of sudden and I had to get out of it.” The end of my words came out in a laugh.

The man didn’t react, just continued to stand there as though he didn’t even know I was here. After a long awkward silence he finally spoke, making me jump. “It’s not the wind.”

I paused, watching a small eevee stumble into a clumsy pile near my feet. Its doe eyes turned up to me and a smile spread across its tiny face. “What do you mean?”

“The tower is calling for help.” He grumbled, finally leaving his position and pouring a cup of what I imagined to be tea. “There’s something trapped in there.”

“The tower?” I sputtered, confused at his words. I need to leave, this guy is crazy. “I’m sorry, but what?”

He turned to face me, his face was ancient - scarred and tarnished with the years of his long life. His eyes chilled me more than the winds had, one eye clouded over and long disabled. I felt myself start to back towards the door, a hand drifting to the pokeball in my pocket. Good thing Null is horrifying to those who have never seen it…

A grin cracked across the man’s face. “Go see for yourself, dearie. It won’t let you leave until you do.”

I shook my head hard, my fist closing around Null’s pokeball as the man took a single step towards me. “I’m leaving now. Sorry for interrupting.”

I burst out the door and into the now eerily silent town. Maybe it was just the man’s words… but the tower seemed to loom over me even more so then it had before. The reflection of the sunlight on the aged metal made it seem to glow a sickening green. I let Null out, happy to have a friend’s presence with me.

The Pokémon sunk low to the ground, unsettled. The short, dark fur along it’s back stood on end and the beast released a roar and charged towards the tower… “No!” I raced after it, no longer caring about what the creepy old guy had said. I couldn’t lose my Pokémon, especially not this one.

Null ascended the stairs, disappearing behind what looked and smelt like a cloud of incense smoke as its mismatched paws hit the top step. I stopped in my headlong chase of the Pokémon to take a good look at surroundings. All black walls and half dead hanging plants. Two woman stood in the room, cheerful smiles on their painted faces.

I nodded to them, quickly remarking about getting my Pokémon out of here as quickly as possible. I didn’t want to disturb the graves of loved ones. The elder of the two warned me of some 'channelers’ that were currently using the tower for religious purposes. I cringed at the words, naive and wanting to stay that way towards what a channeler was.

I sucked down my nerves and charged up the stairs, peering through the heavy scented smoke for any sign of where Null had went. I saw a glint of a bronze helmet and I dashed towards it, being careful to avoid the headstones on the way. With the heavy smoke it was challenging to determine where the stones were, though they seemed to follow a similar pattern throughout the floor.

I barely touched Null’s fish like tail before it leaped away from me, clearly startled by the touch, I watched as it ran up another flight of stairs hastily and swore under my breath. I continued after it, acutely aware of the thickening fog surrounding me. The scent that had been somewhat pleasant on the first floor was already becoming far too strong.

The minute my foot hit the next floor another shiver went down my spine - that same chill that had pushed me off into the old man’s house lingering over my skin. I considered calling Kai out to help me, and for the company as I was feeling rather nauseous with fear, but realized she may do the same thing Null was.

I weaved carefully between the stones, coughing and trying to limit my intake of the scented smoke as I climbed a few more floors to follow Null. I felt weirdly light headed as I ascended and I accredited it to the fog and not knowing what floor I was on anymore. I finally caught up to the chimera-like beast and threw myself at it, wrapping my arms around its feathered neck and trying to calm it down. It seemed to relax as it heard my voice and sunk down to the floor, laying down and whimpering in fear. “I’m sorry, Null. Sorry for scaring you like that.”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry…” a voice chanted. I felt my own hair stand on end as it snaked around Null and I. Null’s whimpers turned to fearful growls.

“Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry…”

I covered my ears, biting back a scream as the mantra of almost whispered words seemed to constrict my mind. The scent of the fog felt like gum in my sinuses, sticky and unforgiving.

“Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry…”

Null suddenly jumped to its feet, I watched through tearful eyes as it angrily roared and lunged towards a figure in the smoke. The whispered words weighed on my like a physical presence, pushing on my back - shoving me to the floor… my clouded mind imagined the ground opening beneath me. Musky dirt and decayed bodies of both human and Pokémon yawning out before me.

No. It’s a hallucination.

I focused on the figure of my Pokémon, battling something shrouded in the mist. Its roars we’re deafening. Something in my head clicked then and I yelled to Null, “use pursuit!”

It obeyed my command and quickly struck the foe with a dark cloud of mist surrounding its figure. A cry filled the room and suddenly the figure was gone, the fog slowly dissipating. The chorus of 'sorry’ fading with the strongly scented smoke. I was able to stand again and Null looked to me, its strange tail wagging back and forth rapidly.

“Good job.” I said with a hesitant smile.

Something pink flashed past my vision and I locked onto the fast moving figure just in time to see what it was. A small cat like Pokémon with a long tail was whizzing through the room. It stopped as I noticed it and met my gaze, a small laugh like sound leaving its mouth.

Mew…?!

I gaped towards the small mythical Pokémon. Utterly shocked to see it in such a horrendous place. It floated closer to me staring at me with these huge blue eyes. Null bounced suddenly, trying to grab mew’s tail. It quickly moved away, giggling again. A noise similar to its name left its mouth and it span in a circle, a pink bubble forming around it and then suddenly it was gone. Popped out of the air leaving no trace of its presence whatsoever.

I refused to believe the Pokémon had been the cause for the shit that had happened. It had to have been a ghost Pokémon. A gengar maybe… they were known for pulling pranks on humans and wreaking havoc whenever they got the chance. That figure looked human though… I shivered and recalled Null to its ball and quickly made my way out of the building. Ignoring the fact that the scented smoke was refilling once again and stray whispers floated through the fog aimlessly.

Maybe it wasn’t a Pokémon in there…

I left Lavender Town as quickly as humanely possible. Relieved to get south of there and across the wooden planks over the ocean. My limbs shook as I walked and I sucked in the smell of the ocean to help calm my nerves. After walking far enough away that I could no longer see Lavender Town I took a seat on the edge of the planks and pulled out my phone.

“Oy.”

“Hey! I didn’t think you’d actually pick up.” I laughed.

“Well, I did. What’s up?” Gladion muttered over the line, sounding very distracted.

I blanked, that whole backlog of things I wanted to say to him getting so rammed up in my throat that I struggled to say anything at all. I stumbled over myself and he chuckled at me.

“What, Moon? Are you okay?”

I swallowed a lump in my throat and sucked in another deep breath of the salty air. “Shaky, but okay.” My laugh was strained.

“Why’s that?”

I didn’t want to think about why I was shaky, I wanted to push all of today behind me and just get to Lillie’s room, talk about trivial things until we passed out. Then I’d try to make sense of things. “Something kind of crazy happened, I’ll tell you about it later though.”

He sighed, “Are you doing stupid stuff again?”

“This wasn’t by choice.” I half defended, admitting to myself that it was a kind of dumb choice to go to Lavender to begin with.

“Moon.” He grumbled, sighing once again. “Well you’re on the phone so it couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Or I’m just going to you for comfort. Which I think is what this partially is.” I laughed, leaning forward so I could see my reflection in the water. “There was a lot of stuff I wanted to talk to you about though… is this a good time?”

He was quiet for a moment, I could hear some commotion over the line and I waited patiently until his voice was back again. “Uh, not really. I’m in the middle of work.”

“Oh! Why’d you answer then? You shouldn’t talk on the phone during work, dork.”

“Apparently I answered to comfort you so…” he chuckled again and I felt my cheeks warm. “I can call you back when I’m done.”

“Can you promise me that? Because the last text I got from you was kind of similar to what you just said and you didn’t follow through with that.” I joked, smiling at myself in the water.

“Jeez, Moon. Sorry, I’ve been busy.” His tone was light and playful as well, “yes I can promise you that I’ll call you after work. If I don’t then… I don’t know, don’t talk to me for a week.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice for you though?”

“No?” He swore under his breath. “I need to go, one of the grimer is about to engulf a cutiefly.”

I burst out laughing, much louder than any of my previous noises had been. “Yeah go stop that. Talk later then, Gladion.”

“Yeah. Promise. Bye, Moon.”

The minute I entered the house Lillie knew something was off. She claimed my face was pale enough that it looked like I was sick and hadn’t slept for a week… but the expression on my face was way too giddy for me to just be feeling under the weather.

She’d had a few hours to work at the convenience store and I hadn’t expected her to be back as early as she was. I explained that I’d ended up in Lavender Town and some crazy crap had happened. She tried getting the information out of me but I told her I wasn’t ready yet. I needed to clear my mind before I could digest the events of today. I collapsed on the couch that had become mine in recent days and begged to watch the next movie of the series we were currently working through.

She asked me why I was constantly checking my phone while watching the movie, that it wasn’t like me. I lied and told her I was waiting for my Mom to text back to a question I’d asked her earlier.

“My mom says she remembers you now.” Lillie said as the credits rolled over the screen.

I stared blankly at her, not knowing how to respond.

“She doesn’t remember what she did but she remembers you and Hau. She said your both great kids.” She smiled faintly.

“So that’s good progress then!” I grinned at her.

She nodded, “Exactly. I’m hoping this means we can go back home soon.”

“You plan on leaving Kanto?” I was baffled, I didn’t really consider that she’d be moving back at some point.

She nodded again, “of course. It is my home, my brother is there. My friends are there. It’s where my mom should be… not in charge of aether… maybe not even in the building… but Alola is where we belong.”

A huge grin fell across my face, “I’m glad you think that way. I can’t wait to have you guys back there!”

She blushed, “I can’t wait to be back there too.”

I knew she was thinking of Hau as she said that by the way her cheeks heated up. If she were back in Alola then there wouldn’t be anything holding the two of them back from dating. I pointed that out and she looked so giddy.

“I can’t wait.” Was all she said again.

The night dragged on and I didn’t hear from Gladion again. I tried to not calculate the time in Kanto so I wouldn’t get upset, but I couldn’t stop myself from doing so. He couldn’t have been working past ten, right?

Lillie and I were laying down for bed when I finally decided to just text him, joke about not talking to him for a week since he’d seemingly forgotten his promise. But just as I opened the text log my phone vibrated and a new message popped up.

G//I’m guessing it’s too late now?

M//hah. I was just about to tell you that all communication with me is shut off until next week… //no it’s not too late, I can go in the other room

G//okay. //video call…?

M//uh sure?

Lillie was on her phone, facing away from me… so I slowly slipped off the couch and tiptoed out the door in hopes of not disturbing her. My hand wrapped around the door handle and she shifted.

“Bye?” She laughed. “Bathroom?”

I chewed on my lip, I didn’t want to lie again. I was kind of tired of it after only a few occurrences so I just admitted quickly before slipping out the door, “No, talking to Gladion.”

She propped herself up on an elbow, looking confused as I closed the door behind me. I considered going to the computer but settled with just using my phone and dropping to my butt in the middle of the hallway.

Gladion’s call came up a moment later and I answered almost immediately, unsurprised to see him rubbing tiredly at his face. A sympathetic grin twisted my lips.

“It’s too late for you isn’t it?” I asked.

He peered at me through his fingers and shook his head, “no, I’ll be up for a while still anyway.”

I pouted, “Really? Because that clock behind you says it’s nearly five am.”

He grimaced and sighed, “I don’t have a decent sleep schedule anymore. Work has screwed that up this last month.” He dropped his hands to the desktop.

My jaw dropped, “Wait you were working until now?”

He simply nodded in response.

“What?! What the hell are you working on?” My voice echoed off the walls and I slapped a hand over my mouth. I didn’t want to wake Lusamine or stir Lillie enough for her to come out and see what was going on.

“A lot of research projects, general conservation of the region, special help for individual Pokémon… the normal stuff… it’s just..” he sighed and leaned back in the chair, arms crossing over his chest, “a lot more than normal.”

“Why don’t you go sleep then?”

He shook his head, bagged eyes closing “You said you needed to talk to me and frankly, talking with you is what I need right now.”

“How come?” I was thankful his eyes were closed and the hallway was dimly lit as my face was turning red.

He shrugged, “sounds nice. It’s been a while.”

I smiled, gaze on the floor. “Okay. I’ll try to make it quick so you can rest.”

“No rush, Moon.” He adjusted his position in the seat again, propping his head up on a fist. “So what’s going on?”

I started off explaining the trip to Seafoam, how Lillie had joined our little spelunking team at the last minute. I told him about the zubat attack and the crazy scenery - promising to have Lillie send pictures when he expressed interest in that part. I spent probably a solid five minutes talking about the glass bubble like room under the ocean, how you could see ocean Pokémon swimming past the thick ice.

“Damn. I want to see that.” He mumbled.

After explaining our encounter with articuno and the odd connection I’d felt with the Pokémon - I asked his opinion of the whole eye to eye experience I’d had. He sat a little straighter, considering my words with a quizzical expression on his face.

“I read recently that all those ancient Pokémon like articuno can predict the future.” He muttered, seeming lost in thought. “There were some reports of close encounters with humans predicting coming fortune or turmoil.”

“I did kind of feel that… like it was trying to warn me of something.” I recalled that hold the bird had on me, that steady, concerned gaze.

I watched his expression fall and the color fade from his face. “Warning?”

I nodded, worried about his reaction.

“Moon.” He sighed, pressing a knuckle to his forehead. “Arceus. I don’t want to hear that… we’ve all been through enough already.”

I shrugged. “It’s not my choice to be in 'turmoil’, I might just be a magnet to it.” I joked with a nervous front.

His eyes rolled, “yeah, clearly…. Anyway, please try to avoid anything that seems even remotely lethal. Please?”

I laughed, “I obviously will try my best! I’m sure I could work my way out of a bad situation anyway.”

His gaze turned harsh, just short of a glare. The affect was almost lost through the video but I still felt slightly intimidated. “Look, it’s great to be confident and all… and yes you’re a great trainer, obviously. But it doesn’t take much for a situation to get out of hand. Don’t let it get to that point, and if you’re struggling with something… get help.”

“I do have help! A whole team of it!” I laughed, rubbing at an especially watery eye. Sleepiness was starting to reach me as well, though I was hyper conscious of the clock behind Gladion ticking away the hours until the sun would rise in Alola.

“No, Moon-”.

I cut him off before he could go on. “I know, I know. I was kidding.” I conceded.

He grumbled. “Was there something else you wanted to tell me? Something less concerning?”

His eyes were nearly glazed over and I couldn’t bring myself to keep him on the chat any longer. My head shook back and forth for a moment, “I can tell you the rest later. You should go sleep.”

“I’m fine, Moon. What is it?”

“It’s not like I need to tell you at any point, it can wait! Go rest before you pass out, dork.” I smirked at him, the long, hidden yawn that left his mouth giving away his exhaustion more so than the bags and sleepy body posture.

“Fine, talk tomorrow then?” He prodded, dragging a short laugh out of me.

“I don’t know, will we?” I said, raising my eyebrows to accentuate my passive stab.

His hands covered his face, barely concealing the eye roll he gave me in response. “We will.”

“Okay.” I laughed, “Goodnight then.”

His hands moved from his face, exposing a small, rare smirk that made my heart slam in my chest. “Yeah. Night, Moon.”

The screen suddenly went dark, my phone becoming just a phone in my eyes once again. I kinda miss his face being there already? I shook myself out of the thought and carefully stood, pocketing the hot phone as I slowly walked back into Lillie’s room - making sure I didn’t make a noise as the door shut. She was curled up in her comforter, her own phone resting screen up. I could see from where I stood that she had her chat log with Hau still open - she likely fell asleep during their conversation.

I crawled onto the couch pulling my own comforter tight around my body and burying my face into the pillow. Sleep seemed unattainable now that I was laying in the somewhat bed. A strange stream of artificial energy was surging through my body and I figured it came from sitting so awkwardly in the hall for so long… or maybe looking at a screen so late at night…

Note cont…: Fair warning that progress may slow down a bit on these chapters - I’m getting pretty busy with classes and havent had as much time and energy to write lately. So hopefully I dont have to just give up writing for a while! Anyway, thanks as always c: