#the moodboard has almost nothing to do with the story it's just ~vibes~ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lunarbuck · 3 years ago

Text

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

moodboard is just for vibes, not what reader looks like!

5. Moonlight

Pairing: Guard!Bucky x Princess!Reader

WC: 3.7k

Sneak Peek: “Wow,” Steven breathes when he finally rides up beside you. When you turn around to face him, he isn’t looking at the flowers, but rather at you. “You’re remarkable, princess.”

Warnings/Tags: none that I can think of, fluff

series masterlist ☁ / ao3

AN: Picking up where we left off! Thank you for the support on the story <3

please let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist!

Chapter 4 / Chapter 6

There are so many people around you, and you feel like there isn’t enough air to breathe, so you find your way to the balcony on the other side of the room. You push the doors open and are immediately hit with the cool night air, a stark contrast to the warmth of the ballroom. You lean against the stone railing and look out over the property. The moon is high in the sky, and the stars dance, gleaming brightly. The sound of the doors opening behind you pulls your attention, and you find James has followed you out.

“I needed some air,” you explain as he approaches to stand next to you. You turn back around, watching the trees blow in the wind.

“Me too,” he replies quietly, not wanting to pull your attention from the land. You realize that even if he didn’t need to get out of that room, he would have followed anyway. It is his job. Technically, you should have found him before disappearing. It is protocol.

“Are you having fun?” You ask, turning to look at him. James tilts his head, contemplative, and you understand that it is a kind of silly question. He is there to work, not to party.

“I suppose,” he replies, looking over to you. “You seem to have been enjoying yourself, though, and none of the princes have crushed toes,” he teases. You roll your eyes and turn around, leaning your back against the cold stone of the railing.

“It took a lot of willpower,” you joke back, laughing a bit at yourself. “But I can’t help but think that our little practice lesson in the library taught me all I needed to know.” A slight blush creeps across James’s cheeks, and even in the dim light of the moon, you can see a flicker of something in his eyes.

“I’m glad to have been helpful.” James holds your gaze, not letting you drop it, and you feel your cheeks heating. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so beautiful,” he says so quietly that you almost miss it.

“James,” you say, trying to find a way to deflect the compliment. James turns, so he is leaning with his side against the rail, supported by his arm. He looks at you as if his eyes can see right through you, right into your head.

“You think I’m just saying that to be nice,” he states, voice only just above a murmur. “You think that I must be like this with everyone.” You don’t have the heart to nod, but he knows he’s right. He doesn’t need your confirmation. “You think you’re nothing special.” James takes a step toward you, his chest nearly pressing against your arm, and he reaches out a gloved hand to your face. His fingers hook underneath your chin and tilt your jaw to look at him. Neither of you speaks, the silence that hangs in the air is heavy, and you wish he would just say something, do something. You won’t make the first move out of fear that he will reject you.

Instead of speaking, James drops his hand from your face and takes your hand in his. He steps away from the railing and pulls you with him out to the middle of the balcony. Through the closed doors, you can still hear the music playing inside the ballroom. James places both your hands around his neck, and his hands find your waist. Wordlessly, he pulls you closer and leads you in swaying along to the soft melody coming from inside.

“James,” you whisper as his fingers press into your sides. He looks down at you, and you crane your neck a bit to look into his eyes.

“I have had people tell me I need to distance myself from you. That I have gotten too comfortable, too casual with you, but I can’t. I watched you dance with those princes, watched as their hands held you in the ways I wish I could. I barely held my temper.” You gasp quietly at the confession and your heart races as he continues dancing with you. “Tonight, I wanted nothing more than to dance with you, to hold you. To occupy your thoughts.”

“You always occupy my thoughts, James,” you say somewhat sheepishly. James raises his eyebrows at your words. He must not have noticed your feelings for him.

“Is that so, princess?” He asks, clearly amused. You blush; you have never been with a boy, let alone a man, so you are quite inexperienced in this department. In the books, confessing one’s feelings to someone else seems so easy. It certainly is not panning out that way.

“Yes,” you say, voice breathy and quiet. Your eyes flicker down to his mouth, his full bottom lip tugged between his teeth. When you return your gaze to his eyes, they are full of something you can’t quite name.

“Princess, I have never met anyone quite like you; I doubt I ever will. And I would like nothing more than to show you just how I feel about you, but I worry that this will complicate what you are going through right now. Though none of the princes have proposed to you, you are spoken for in a sense. I wouldn’t want to start something that we can’t finish.” You understand what he means. Even if the two of you fell in love and tried to wed, it would be illegitimate, and your father would never allow it. You were to marry one of the four princes, and that is final. You have no sway. But that didn’t mean you didn’t want to pour your heart out for James. You want to feel his lips against yours, you want his hands to roam your body. You want to feel his soft brown hair between your fingers.

“I understand,” you whisper. “And I respect your decision, but that doesn’t mean I want you to kiss me any less.” You surprise yourself as the words slip from your lips. Your face somehow gets warmer than it already is, and you can’t bring yourself to look at James’s face. He stops swaying, and you feel dizzy all of a sudden. His hands slide up your arms, up your neck, and come to rest on either side of your face. Your hands press against his firm chest, feeling his heartbeat thundering against your palms. James tilts your face up, and you finally figure out what that look in his eye is. It’s wanting.

Your heart skips a beat, and it seems like the world stops turning as James leans in and captures your lips in a gentle kiss. His hands cup your face and deepen the kiss. The feeling of him pressed against you, surrounding you, is thrilling, and your breathing quickens. When James pulls away, you keep your eyes closed, not wanting the moment to end.

“Princess,” he whispers against your forehead, lips brushing gently over your skin. You tilt your head up and run your hands along his arms to rest on his wrists beside your face. “You are astonishing.” James connects his lips to yours again, and you kiss back with newfound confidence. You’re not sure how long you stay like that, intertwined with James on the balcony, but it feels like hours, and you relish every second. Footsteps that approach a little too close to the doors force you and James apart; you can’t risk getting caught together. James checks his watch and grimaces. You’ve been gone for too long.

“What does this mean?” You ask, not elaborating. James understands, though, and he brushes the hair from your face gently, studying your features.

“I’m not sure, princess,” he says gently, and you appreciate his honesty. “What I am sure of, though, is that you are captivating, and I hope to steal you away more often if you’re willing.” A devious grin reaches across his lips, and you suck in a breath at the sight.

“You can steal me away whenever you want, James,” you whisper, echoing the conversation you had had with him on the first day he came to work at the castle.

“Bucky,” he says, taking your hands in his. You cock your head to the side, silently asking him to explain. “Call me Bucky,” he clarifies.

“Bucky.” The way his name feels on your tongue, the way it tastes, is addictive. Forbidden and alluring. After another stolen kiss, James -- Bucky -- hooks your arm through his and brings you back into the ballroom. He walks you toward the middle of the room and tells you he must check in with the other guards. You curtsey, and he leaves, though hesitantly.

The rest of the ball goes by in a blur, and when Winnie asks you about it later as she helps you undress, you can’t seem to think of any specifics. You fall asleep that night to the memory of Bucky, the feeling of him underneath your fingers.

You wake a bit later than you intend in the morning, but you have no concrete plans since it is the day after the ball. You peel yourself from your bed and find that an outfit has been laid out for you. It’s one of your usual dresses, the lavender fabric soft against your fingers. You slip it on and adjust the cap sleeves before you make your way to the kitchen. You have surely missed breakfast so you will make your food. The floor is cold against your bare feet, but you don’t mind. You push open the kitchen door and find Steven inside, eating a toast with jam spread on top.

“Good morning, princess,” he greets before taking a bite of his food. You return the saying and dig through the cabinets, looking for something to make. “Do you have plans for today?” He asks, leaning against the counter next to you. You find a jar of oats and begin preparing oatmeal for yourself.

“No, why, did you have something in mind?” You ask, flashing him a kind smile. A blush spreads across his face, and you can’t help but giggle at the sight.

“I was hoping we could explore more of the grounds. Your father says you are quite the adventurer.” You nod and hum a bit at his proposition. You wouldn’t mind spending the day outside, though you know that Steven would rather ride horses than go hiking.

“That sounds lovely, Steven,” you say, stirring hot water into your bowl. You watch as your words give the man newfound confidence, and you can’t help but think of him as an adorable puppy.

“Wonderful,” he says, wiping his palms on his pants. “I’ll head to the stables and have your horse prepared. Would you like to meet me there when you’re ready?” You nod again, and Steven heads out to get ready for the day’s adventures. From your spot in the kitchen, you can see two of the other suitors walking around the grounds. Sam and Rumlow seem to be arguing about something, but you don’t really care to know more. You sit down at the table and eat in silence and read the book you’d left there a few days ago.

“Hello, princess,” James says from the doorway. Your heart immediately begins to beat faster, and you try to calm yourself to avoid embarrassment.

“Hello, James,” you reply, closing your book. He crosses the room and stands beside you, so you have to crane your neck to look up at him. When you look back at him, he tilts his head and gives you a funny look.

“When it’s just us, you can call me Bucky,” he reminds you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Well then. Hello, Bucky,” you say, smiling brightly. Bucky grins, and his tongue runs across his bottom lip, eyes searching yours.

“I’ve never heard anything more beautiful,” he murmurs, still holding your face. His words go straight to your heart, and you hope that Bucky can’t hear it beating wildly in your chest. The pressure of his fingers against your skin makes your face warm, and shivers run up your spine.

“You’re too kind, Bucky,” you reply sheepishly.

“I wish I could take you away from all of this, spend some time with you without all the prying eyes.” Bucky’s hands slide from your face as he takes the seat across from you.

“Me too, being around them is so tiring. I’m going riding with Steven after I’m done eating. Those horses have a special place in his heart,” you chuckle, taking another bite of your food.

“Tonight,” he says, a beautiful boyish grin on his face. “Meet me in your library after the suitors leave.” You raise a questioning eyebrow at the man across from you.

“Pray tell, why might I do that?” You know you’ll go; you don’t need an explanation, but the way Bucky smirks at you is worth it. He wants you. You know it.

“I have something to show you.” You laugh and finish eating, worried about keeping Steven waiting. Bucky walks you down to the stables, and despite the careful distance between the two of you, his hand still brushes against yours. You try not to stare at your hand when you feel the leather of his glove against your skin, but you can’t help the blush that spreads across your face.

“Princess!” Steven calls out when he hears your footsteps approaching. When he sees Bucky, he nods a greeting to the man. “I’ve had your horse prepared. James, there’s one for you as well if you’d like to ride.” James nods and walks over to the horses, sliding a gloved hand over the back of one of the animals.

“Where would you like to venture to today, Steven?” You ask, letting him lead you to your horse. He helps you up into the saddle, and his hand lingers on yours as you settle in.

“Wherever you’d like, princess. And I would love to hear that story about your sister’s wedding and your dancing. You did promise me that.” Steven swings himself up onto his horse, and the three of you ride out of the stable.

“Did I promise you that?” You ask, leading your horse to ride beside his. Steven smiles at you, perfectly straight teeth gleaming in the afternoon sun.

“Something along those lines,” he says, chuckling through his words. You lead him onto a trail through the forest that you and your sister used to ride through. Since you didn’t usually ride horses, the path is a bit overgrown, but Steven didn’t seem to mind.

“At my sister’s wedding, I was avoiding everyone so I wouldn’t have to dance. My sister was not having it. She found me hiding in the hall reading and pulled me back into the ballroom. She had me dance with her husband’s brother, and right as he touched me, I tripped and fell on top of him. He helped me get back up, and I stepped on his toes each time he spun me. By the end of the night, he had to ice his feet. He wouldn’t even look at me. My father was furious, I had made a fool out of everyone, but I blamed my sister. If she had just let me do what I was good at and hide in the hallway, none of it would’ve ever happened.” Steven laughs and shakes his head at the story, but all you really hear is the quiet chuckle of Bucky behind you, riding a few feet away.

“I never would have guessed, princess. You danced beautifully at the ball,” Steven replies, glancing at you.

“You flatter me, Steven,” you say as you urge your horse to ride faster. Steven gives chase, and together you ride through the forest. The wind blows your hair from the plait it has been twisted in, and a laugh bubbles from your lips. You reach a clearing of wildflowers and slow your horse, waiting for Steven and Bucky to catch up.

“Wow,” Steven breathes when he finally rides up beside you. When you turn around to face him, he isn’t looking at the flowers but rather at you. “You’re remarkable, princess.” You shake your head and slide off your horse, urging Steven to continue. The two of you pick flowers and talk for a while, telling stories of childhood antics and adventures. You learn that when Steven was young, he got picked on by other children, so now, as a grown man, he wanted to be a protector. The remainder of the afternoon is spent lounging around in the meadow, but the more time you spend with Steven, it becomes easier to see that he isn’t ready for marriage. He is itching to do his part, to serve his country and his kingdom. He doesn’t know what kind of commitment marriage and a family is, what that would mean for his career.

You can hear Winnie silently scolding you in your head as you mentally cross Steven off your list of future husbands. She thinks you’re too picky, and the four men would all make good husbands. But you know that you can't marry Steven; he isn't ready for the ball and chain of marriage. You can't marry Sam; he's told you that his heart belongs to another woman. It would kill him to hurt her. Of course, you wouldn’t force him to marry you, so you made him promise to be your friend after it all is over. That left you with Rumlow and Loki, the two strapping princes were a bit rough around the edges in their own ways, but of the two of them, Loki is undoubtedly more favorable. Part of you hates having that internal dialogue about marrying any of the men; you didn’t want that for your life. The other part has already accepted it, has already made peace with the fact that your life is no longer yours to control.

The bell tower rings 11 times, indicating that it is nearly midnight. You slip from your room and quietly make your way to the library. You stand in front of the wooden doors, wishing you had changed before coming down; Bucky is sure to laugh at your silly clothes. Your pale blue nightgown brushes just below your knees, and the soft fabric of your oversized black sweater maintains your modesty. After a deep breath, you push the library’s doors open and find Bucky sitting on the couch reading. When he hears you enter, his eyes snap up to you, taking in your presence.

“Princess,” he says, standing to greet you. You take a step across the threshold, the soft carpet beneath your bare feet. Behind you, you push the door shut and keep holding his gaze. Bucky’s eyes are bright as they watch you. He takes a few steps to close the distance between your bodies, and his hands find their way to cup your cheeks.

“Good evening, Mr. Barnes,” you whisper, lips just an inch from his. His eyes flicker when you call him that name, and you can’t help but grin. He tilts your head and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. You wrap your hands around his waist and pull him closer, needing more contact.

“I’ve wanted to do that all day,” he murmurs against your cheek, warming your skin with his breath. You take in the way he feels, his smell, everything about him. He does the same, savoring the stolen moment with you.

“You weren’t too subtle about it either. Steven asked me why you stare so much.” Bucky scoffs at your words, but he laughs, taking your hand and walking you to the couch.

“And what did you say to dear old Steven,” he jokes as you sit. You want to tuck yourself into his chest, but instead, you sit at his side, pressing your leg to his.

“I told him you get lost in your thoughts. You’re a brooder with a staring problem.” Bucky feigns offense and rubs circles into your palm.

“Well, you weren’t wrong,” he says quietly, eyes searching your face for what you’re not sure.

“Have you met Winnifred?” You ask, needing to know if she had spoken to him about her findings.

“Yes, she’s a lovely woman. Why?” Bucky furrows his brow, obviously jumping to a worst-case scenario of why you would bring her up.

“She told me to keep you as a friend yesterday while she was helping me get ready. There are rumors that I’ve taken a liking to you.” You spare a look at Bucky, his blue eyes stormy as he thinks of the consequences of getting caught together. “We need to be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” The worry lines between his eyebrows soften, and he kisses your forehead sweetly.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen,” he says against your skin. “And I’ll try to back off a bit around people. It’s just hard seeing you with them.” You nod and kiss his cheek, trying to lighten the mood.

“You said earlier that you wanted to show me something. What was it?” You squeeze his hand and bring his attention back to the present. He smiles and reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out an object wrapped in plain brown paper. Bucky hands it to you, and you gently open the paper, revealing a pocket-sized book of poems. Your heart clenches, and you turn back to look at Bucky. The clouds in his eyes have gone, making way for light and happiness.

“I was in town a few days ago and saw it. It reminded me of you.” He had bought the book before your kiss. Before you had shown him how you felt.

“It’s perfect, Bucky,” you whisper as you lean into his side. His arm slips around your shoulder, and he kisses the crown of your head. The two of you stay like that, pressed to each other’s sides as the moon rises high in the sky and enjoy the silence.

Tagged: @sharksandtea @itsthemaree

divider by: @skylightlantern

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thejudgingtrash · 4 years ago

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would you class percy as a morally grey character? i’m really interested to hear your input

Anon 2: Would u class percy as an Morally Gray character?

Hey there! Let me write that essay for you about morally gray Percy ^^

It’s not about whether Percy is a morally gray character or not, it’s about he has to be otherwise the story doesn’t make any sense. At least for me it wouldn’t.

Ashley (@gr33kg0ds) said in the tags of my dark!Percy post something along the line of people diminishing Percy’s character because they need him to be pure and fluffy and I wholeheartedly agree with that!

Just because Percy’s twelve doesn’t mean he’s pure and didn’t do unproblematic things. I’ll mostly refer to The Lightning Thief because that book is the Magnus Opus for Riordan and perfectly stands for Percy as a morally gray character from the very beginning of the saga. (Also the only book I’ve recently re-read)

As much as I love fanon with all the amazing artworks, debates, memes and jokes, analysis, cool edits and wonderful fanfics, projecting your version of Percy doesn’t make the image in your head real. Percy in canon is not the fun and fluffy boy you imagine him to be or which social media sites (Reddit, Twitter, Instagram and yes, also Tumblr) tend to make him to be. He’s a scrawny little sarcastic twerp that was the unpopular kid. He isn’t that cringy dude Tony Lopez doing that fucking weird TikTok dance (side note: I don’t even know who this person is and I don't care, I saw the video and immediately wanted to delete every social media app on my phone, so thanks Tony?), kissing his Yeezys goodnight, vibing to our lord and gay icon Taylord “T. Swizzle” Swift song and flexing them iPhone 11 Max Pros. Percy literally said that going to Burger King with his mother once in a while would be considered a luxury. He’s a poor bastard in literal sense.

Part of the problem with the distinction of Percy’s character and his motives stem from the fact that Percy is a sneaky unreliable narrator and we as the audience (especially if you’re younger) don’t question most of his behavior if you even question some (pretty sure that most of us only picked up weird stuff as adults). Everything seems plausible to you. But does it mean that his behavior is necessarily good? Something that would paint his character as good?

Like I’ve said, let’s take a look at TLT. The very beginning of everything and the wonderful line that gets quoted everywhere: “Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood”.

The very first line that quoted everywhere or used as in moodboard and edits but its meaning and significance get brushed off for the most part. It immediately sets the tone and the atmosphere for the book and for Percy as a character. A(n in my opinion) morally gray character. The very first thing we hear from Percy is that he doesn’t want to be in this world. He’s an involuntary participant who has been (upon further reading) blackmailed and forced into this world and is only cooperating to get his mother back and said in regards to his father (who also stands for the Greek pantheon) ”well yeah, would be nice to know about my dad but I’ve survived without him the past twelve years so I don’t know, he wouldn’t be missed necessarily I guess?“ That pretty much tells you, it foreshadows, that we will be dealing with someone with grit, someone that fights back, someone that went through shit, someone that isn’t a goody two-shoed character. Does it mean he’s a terrible (in the sense of evil or bad) character from the get go? Not really, but it tells you in nuances that he won’t be the white shining knight you might expect from a fairy tale.

There is so much that little Perseus Jackson has to offer you directly in the first book. So much that paints him as a morally gray character. From the illegal candy stash all the way to tricking Procrustes into his own trap. He knows right from wrong and isn’t innocent by any means. He wants you to think he’s innocent. Yes, he hunts monsters and the book also tells you that some adults (Gabe) can also be monsters, but Percy’s personality is so interesting and full of facets which I love! He’s misleading you on purpose. Deflects, plays events down. He lies in front of you to others but you don’t really doubt it. Instead of questioning it, you understand it.

What distinguishes Percy from other male protagonists in that notion that the author doesn’t try to paint him as particularly good (the reader connects the dots, in reality) is pretty much that. Percy is neither inherently good or bad. He’s in the middle. He does lots of questionable things and his personality adds to it. Something that immediately comes to my mind is his lack of fear of consequences. He thinks in the short term and not in the long term. Of course, he’s caring about those that are close and important to him (Grover, Annabeth and his mother of course. And well. The world not getting destroyed by his weird father and fucking crazy uncle would be a plus). But Percy isn’t really a strategist (yet). Look at the Medusa head thingy. Annabeth and Grover warn him, that he’s gonna get his ass beat and he doesn’t care. That these gods could squish him in the end didn’t matter to him.

The Olympian gods are painted as these unpenetrable huge mighty force and some fuzzy annoyed twelve year old dipshit sends them the severed head of a monster - but not any monster, the monster his father had a role in creating (well, Athena for the most part, but you know what I mean). (Also, I know this kinda reckless behavior gets sorta rewarded but at first, everyone was like ‘NO, NO, NO!’ before Percy was glorious with his attempt). Percy essentially tells these ancient forces that drive the way of his new cosmos how shit‘s gonna work from now on.

Percy isn’t fear riddled and doesn’t think about the possible outcome. He manipulates, he lies, he persuades and all of this as soon as he hits twelve. But probably earlier. Pretty sure he had to become a believable lier in order to trick (survive being around) Gabe. Perseus is angry, he’s agitated. Had Riordan written Percy as a soft spoken, frightened, goody two-shoed kid, almost nothing in TLT and the follow-ups would have made sense. He’s the outcast, but slowly blossoms into the strength and muscles of the group. Of the entire camp. Someone that outsmarts opponents and wins battles. But he didn’t do that by playing nice and being a bootlicker.

TLT would’ve been a perfect standalone book that would have emphasized that Percy is an involuntary person sive) if you skip Kronos, leave a little bit foreshadowing with the prophecy out, tweak the talks with the gods and Annabeth’s first meeting and skip Luke and the scorpion at the end. The ending would’ve been “and so Percy had a first awesome summer vacation and found a group of friends for life” or so (aka PJO movie 1 in less shitty and more cohesive).

The morally gray character shrinks a little bit in the SOM because there lie straighter dangers ahead which dive more into the bigger picture and Percy grows more into the character who takes care of friends and but he does come back with TTC, and definitely BOTL and the St. Helens explosion.

Consequences of Percy’s interactions had people partially dying. There is doubt, there is guilt. But the show must go on. There are battles that have to be won. There is no big giving up, no big overturn for the bad guys.

Also... isn’t it interesting that we start with Percy saying ”look, I don’t want to be in this world“ in TLT and it ends with TLO where he says ”for once I didn’t look back“? The full circle? The way that accepting his fate took five books? To change Percy from being an involuntary participant to becoming voluntary? He didn’t want to be a half-blood, he didn’t want to be the kid in the prophecy, but he actively chose to be in the end. He went from a darker shade of gray to a mayhaps lighter, if you want to say so.

To conclude, I repeat myself again: it’s not about whether Percy is a morally gray character or not, it’s that he has to be.

Thanks for asking me about some meta stuff I really do like diving into these things here and there. Tumblr’s sorta glitchy, I do get notifications but I really don’t see asks, so I’m sorry if my response is mad late ^^

#mel answers #pjo #Percy Jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #the lightning thief #rick riordan #the last olympian

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alphaofdarkness · 4 years ago

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not me here for the oc ask ! can't wait to answer the ones you asked me, tomorrow i have my exam and then i shall live again haha ! but now i'll ask you 1, 2, 17, 18, 19, 20 and 31 — i know, it is a lot ( you don't have to do them all 💕) , but i really want to know something more about your wonderful babies and Dany ofc ! I missed her sm during this semi-hiatus 🤧💕💕💕 hope you're doing fine, sending you lots of love 💞💕💘

@carmenio Edgy!! 🥺 so happy to hear from you! ✨ I love these kinds of asks, especially on my many, many OC babies! I hope these answers are good and interesting to thee! I’ll present more info on Dany to some way, some how cause I love her 😭💖

I have gone and included the other questions you asked as well! 🤗 Let’s dive in! 😳

1. Gone and Answered Here ! UwU

2. Do you have a personal favorite among your OCs?

Personal favorite is often shown in the one I draw the most lol, which for a long time was Danielle LWW, but just because she was also my wolfsona at the time. After I made my own personal one I think I went onto Sam for a good while, also eventually going to Dany from Bsd!

So a tie between two beautiful girls, Sam is definitely my favorite LWW Oc, she is just precious and the one I hold the most and most always feel terrible and bad when I put her through it TM.

Also Dany is my self insert, U//w//U, she has definitely allowed me to slowly self love and allow me to appreciate myself, especially the parts of me I didn’t think to much about or consider so appealing, I think? She has definitely been changing gradually into more of myself since I first came up with her almost 2 years ago! Watch me slowly knock her down to my height of 4′9″, let her have her 3 inches for another year maybe lol.

My dearest Atsushi agrees lol ✨🐯

17. Any OC OTPs?

👀 lol yesss~ so many and so many crack ships too, which I'll answer next 😂

I’ll just go on and list them off, plenty more of them but~:

DanyJay

SoraYama

LidiaTom

AlikLucy

IsabelleKayla

AlexanderIsabelle

DarkwolfmonJatomon

JatamonRaiwolfmon

EarthamonHounmon

HumaamonWolverimon

And lastly TakaSam is the one I have definitely drawn and thought of the most! They are the top OTP and just best trope of Childhood Friends to Lovers trope, also filling in that trope of Oblivious to both of them but everyone else 🙄. While SoraYama may have been the OG Couple in my story, my love and warmth for TakaSam is unmatched TwT.

It is wild cause I always draw anguish between them as could-have-been-lovers-had-it-not-been-for-death, but recently been drawing them purely happy and content. Total sweethearts, the love everyone wants, excluding possibility of being old friends or not!

18. Any OC crackships?

L o l, I never seem to focus on the main couples because of this specific thing.

I’ll again just go off in list an maybe add a trope or something to get an idea of them:

DanyYama: Rivals, Constantly arguing, and can be petty as heck, but oh the potential and just possibility of opening up after the traumaTM 👀 also the couple that is always in your face about being in a relationship.

DanySora: Sparing partners, the sass and stubbornness, BiPan solidarity 👀

DanyLidia: Pure, wholesome, best friends and so much hugging and lifting from the tol to smol, the nature love vibes

SamJay: Wholesome, soft, healing together from traumaTM, protectiveness, also their Digimon were lovers and married in their previous life, what does that make us? 😳

SamDany: Mostly sibling-like relationship, but damn they have that Sun and Moon tropes?! How can you not possibly ship them!

SamLula: Shy and Confident, Bisexual/Lesbian solidarity 💕✨

JaySora: Opposite of the DanyYama tropes, why are our partners constantly arguing, can they please stop, pure and soft together.

DanyTaka: Digimon Au specifically, Oh you and I are the voice of the revolution? We are rallying up the troops together? Oh boi my Digimon feels love for yours, am I falling for you or are we falling together? Depression buddies but also each others hope and spirit boost ;;w;;

Any of the Warriors with the Sins: A whole lo t of mess, and just not healthy ... but I can already seen fandom people sayin g otherwise~

LustWrath: Spicy, no strings attached kind of deal.

WrathEnvy: ...Oof um, not healthy, kind of manipulative, we are devils there is nothing but toxic vibes.

PrideWrath: Rulers, King and Queen vibes, Yeah we are toxic for each other, f*** off.

19. Introduce an OC that means a lot to you (and explain why)

Definitely Darkwolfmon! I am sure I explained in the first question why, but again I consider her to be that other half of me, the part of me I never discovered or the parts that essentially fill in the gaps within me. She is my precious partner Digimon and has honestly come a long, long way since I first created her. I believe sometime in 2009-2010, so almost 11-12 years since. She was the first ever OC of mine and is one I hold closest too in my heart.

For the longest time, even too now, I have always wanted her to just manifest at my side. Go on this journey of life together. While she might not be physically here like my child-self would want, she is still in my stories, my imagination, my inspirational drive. I think that is definitely more than enough, I don't know where or who I would be without having created her. I probably wouldn’t have a whole tale of OC’s and stories to tell if it wasn't for her.

I am more than grateful and thankful that I am who I am because of this lovely Oc of mine. I can only hope to have her at my side for the rest of my days!

20. Do any of your OCs sing? If they sing, care to share more details (headcanon voice, what kind of songs they like etc)?

Most, if not all, my OC’s can sing! Their voices and tones vary, to which I cannot give a straight answer on how I headcanon most of their voices right now ^^; I will say that Danielle has a British accent to her voice as well as Spanish speak, and Sora has a Russian accent to her voice, so may be just lightly deep, but not to much.

I will definitely go with my Bsd Oc/Self Insert Danielle Mika Mason, however! Because I have gone and done a thing on how she would speak in her Japanese and English Dub! Other than me also being her voice, her Japanese VA would be Yui Ishikawa, same VA of the queen herself, Mikasa 💕 English VA would be Barrett Wilbert Weed, with an English accent, good Veronica from the Heathers! You can have a listen to her here in this post!

Dany is meek when it comes to her singing, she will often be caught humming and softly singing something, but quickly tends to stop around others. She is often back and forth with how she sounds and often shuts down when she hears someone she considers better than her. She just needs some encouragement and a gentle push from someone she really cares about. When she does feel the push and genuineness from someone she will sing her heart out. But of course prefers to sing for only that one special person~ can ya guess~ 🐯

31. Pick one OC of yours and explain what their tumblr blog would be like (what they reblog, layout, anything really).

Oh boi! I literally have moodboards to add to this! I pick Samantha, or Sam!

She would totes have a Tumblr blog, and Instagram! You always look forward to see what she post and just feel an instant calmness and warmth when you see it! She is always tagging her things appropriately, a soft and warm spring like layout that is shades of yellows, golds, orange, white; an occasional blue and teal as well! She would reblog anything of her aesthetic, golds, yellows, dance and ballet related things (may even post videos or poses of herself in practice and dance related things), cafe shops, sweets and desserts, warm night lights, cats, lots and lots of cats and felines of all shapes and sizes! Her best friend/boyfriend, Takaru always cameos in her stories and posts 💖

She would also reblog or spread awareness of any issues happening in the world, marking them and making her own voice heard as well. In spur moments, you may see her not tag things, but will likely go back to name things accordingly. She would also reblog anything of Bi Pride too!

28. Your most dangerous OC?

Hmmm,,, my most dangerous Oc, I am taking the notion that they are just plain dangerous and likely of evil intent in their actions. Because plenty of my Oc’s on their own are dangerous in their own right, such as the Legendary Wolf Warriors, who have a great power at their paws. They can be destructive in their actions if they lose control or use it for the wrong intentions, which they wouldn't do of their free will.

I will say Danielle and Sam are the strongest of the seven, because of their powers of Darkness and Light, respectively. Their souls created the others, so the other Warrior’s power does not match theirs. They can definitely be lethal together if used for the wrong reasons or if they are under the control of a Human or Deadly Sin.

Which leads me to say that the most dangerous of my OC’s with the worst intentions and evil thought processes that makes them dangerous is likely the Deadly Soul Sin Pride, or Mikka Penelope King/Pride as her solid name goes.

She is definitely the most sinister of the seven sins, even worse than Wrath, who you may figure would be the worst. She has a calculating mind and is very precise in her actions and ways of manipulation. She has a poison within her veins that is just as deadly, capable of blinding others or even killing without remorse or care. While she may be a ghost like entity in my stories, a person/digimon holder in my Digimon College Au, she has enough power to influence people to fall under pride and vanity in the most dangerous level possible, heck even possess them if she wishes. That makes her stronger, as well as the other sins. Does not matter if she is dead or fades away for a while, her influence remains and if it does, than she can exist for a long as she desires.

48. OC who is a perfect cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure

Lol I saw cinnamon roll and instantly had a list of ocs ready, honestly any child OC I have is instantly a cinnamon roll and to good and put for this world, please treat them all kindly!

Current top Oc’s that come to mind are Haruko Mason-Nakajima, along with their nameless sister/pup! They are the sweetest babies ever and love them so much. Too good and pure, especially nameless pup with her love for tigers; she wants to grow up and be like her sibling and papa 🥺🥰 You can see the post on them here!

Next up is my precious flamey boi named Alik Azure Mizuhara! A next gen. LWW, son of Sora and Yamato! A little sightless boi with the softest heart and warmest empathy for others. Very much like his mother in likeness and pure curiosity of the world’s secrets and tales. His father worries for him a lot, but gradually learns to trust in his ability to guide himself. Don’t worry too much about him, he is very smart and knows how to care and guide himself!

Thank you so much for the time and questions you asked me Edgy! I had so much fun with these and gave me a chance to gush about my dearest OC’s! I do hope you find them of interest! 🤗🥺🥰

May your day be beautiful and amazing!! 🥰✨💖

#alpha's art #alpha howls #oc ask questions!#long post #the legendary wolf warriors #bungou stray dogs #bsd oc #danielle mika mason #carmenio #edgy is passing by... ✨

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springday-aus · 4 years ago

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Lifeguard!AU with Kuanlin

moodboard link

Group: solo / [formally] Wanna One

Member: Lai Kuanlin

Genre: fluff, romance

part of the Odd Summer Jobs!AU ⤗ introduction to the Summer Boys!

check out the others on the au masterlist!

Type: Bulletpoint AU

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: check out the other odd summer jobs!au on the au masterlist!

Kuanlin is the next Summer Boy!

so, he works as a lifeguard

picture this: a lanky and gangly boy with too long of legs in some bright red board shorts with lil fire emojis on them and a lil waterproof lifeguard bag with a first aid emergency kit

he’s CPR certified

(luckily he hasn’t had to use it yet)

anyways

this kind of works a bit more differently than others would think

like he isn’t an official lifeguard of a pool or beach or something

but rather, he’s basically hired to supervise pool parties

which are most typically children birthday parties

he’s mainly hired by the moms that throw the parties and the adults are too busy getting drunk or something

either way, he’s there to make sure no one drowns

it’s not a hard job tbh

he actually really likes it

bc all he does is get invited to pool parties, eat cake and chill with the other kids

at first, when the other boys proposed the idea

he was hesitant

like who needs someone to watch their kids swim like some type of creep

turns out lots of parents do

well, at least in their neighborhood

Chenle, at some point: “the Karens just needed someone to make sure they could get loose”

it all turned out better than he originally thought

which is a good thing, but it was just... unexpected

anyways

he gets along with all ages so

whoever is at the party, he easily gets along with

ofc he’s keeping an eye on the people swimming and stuff

(luckily nothing drastic has happened, it is children pool parties)

but he’s also chatting with other people and just vibing with them

so his friends list is kind of insane

one time he was out with Jihoon and Hwiyoung

and some fourteen year old from a birthday party had went up and started a conversation with him, catching up and all that

it was super funny

especially due to the look on their faces like

they were so confused

honestly, they haven’t even seem him, like, work?

like they clearly know what he does, but they’re also confused as to how it looks

Sanha: “so like. you just chill on the side? is there a lifeguard chair?”

Kuanlin: “not exactly”

Jihoon: “have you ever even had to save anyone?”

Mingi: “isn’t it a good thing if he hasn’t?”

speaking of which

while most of the boys are working to save up some money

he’s kind of just doing it for fun

you know what that means?

low rates lmao

you know what rich people like more than money?

being cheap

(which is how Kuanlin gets clients but like whatever)

so, while there are some downsides to the job

(primarily the parents that give him shit)

he does actually really like his job

there’s interesting people and interesting events that unfold at all these pool parties

(apparently Becky next door is trying to homewreck the Andersons and… some shit unfolded during her son’s birthday pool party… tea)

okay, so I can’t talk about Kuanlin and NOT mention his looks

tbh, most of the moms ask him to work for the parties, right?

but, like then see his face… and then ask him if he does pool cleanings too

it’s just to look at him, let’s be real—have you seen him?

because of the sudden demand for pool cleaning, Kaunlin also does pool cleanings

(for a higher price, obviously)

so this has become every bored, suburban mother’s wet dream in the neighborhood

you come into the picture when your family threw your cousin’s birthday party who’s turning like

five? six?

(in your defense, it’s hard to keep track of those things)

anyways, it also happened to be a pool party

so Kuanlin’s doing his thing and you’re just chilling on the side

but then a kid falls into the pool

it’s not a big deal because the kid’s got like floaties and stuff

and like Kuanlin calmly goes into the water and swoops the kid up

the kid is out of the water and the mother is scolding them, saying how they needed to be more careful and all that other parenting stuff

but doesn’t get you isn’t that he just came in and helped the kid

(because that’s… his job)

(but also bc you lowkey don’t remember that kid lmao)

what does get you (and nearly everyone else in close proximity) is how good he looks coming out of the pool

the water droplets run from his fingers to his hair and down his face, dripping down his chin and….

hmm, yup

he’s got your attention now

after he gets out, he heads towards your direction….

plopping down on the empty spot next to yours and wiping down the water with his towel

and you wanna say you were subtle with your staring

but you were absolutely not

like dude

have you seen him?

anyways

he’s just chilling so you try to make conversation

You: “nice whistle”

you point to the little pink whistle that’s on a little necklace chain

Kuanlin: “thanks, it was a gift”

You: “pink?”

Kuanlin: “yeah, I picked out the color”

You: “you know, if you looked hard enough you could probably find someone to customize it”

from that, you two hit it off

and when the party was over… you and him may or may not have left with a new number on your phones

you both kept in contact

and you’re both having a good time talking to one another and having good conversations

Kuanlin… he enjoys your company, even without you physically present

it was just like a super slow burn for anything to even really happen

bc most of the time, it was texting

like you’ll see each other sometimes in the neighborhood

he was doing his thing and you were doing yours

what changes is when you and him meet…. with a third party

that third party being…. no other than the Summer Boys!

you ran into Kuanlin as you were leaving the convenience store

y’all do the little greetings and play catch up and stuff

and some of the boys are just like

Kuanlin, honey—who is this

meanwhile the others (like Jaemin and Chenle) are like

HELLO, ANY PARTNER OF KUANLIN’S IS A PARTNER OF—wait that isn’t how that works

at some point in the introductions and chaos, Jisung and Taehyun are apologizing for the chaotic atmosphere

it’s fine tho bc you got the message

but like you didn’t see the flush on Kuanlin’s cheeks when you didn’t deny it

but like also…….. he didn’t say anything either

like neither of y’all did…. even as y’all went the entire day together

window shopping

movies

ice cream

all that fun stuff you in the summer—hanging out together was different from phone communication and y’all were definitely feeling it

even with the boys present

but like they just kind of fueled it bc

they thought y’all were already dating

like they spend a good chunk of time with Kuanlin and he looks so content as he chats with you

it’s like he’s able to talk about a lot of things with you

so when you were like, hello it’s me c:

they were like

so YOU’RE the one on the other side of the phone

and let y’all have more moments together throughout the day

with the occasional interruption

at the end of it all, he walks you home

Kuanlin: “I’m sorry if our presence kind of overwhelmed you”

You: “no! not at all! it’s been nothing but fun”

You: “you guys are very entertaining though”

Kuanlin: “it’s all fun and games until you’re banned from a movie theater”

You: “have you been banned from a movie theater???”

Kuanlin: “......that is a story for another time”

it’s kind of a short walk from where you were, but you and Kuanlin have deliberately walking slower……

eventually you get to your door and he kind of just lingers

and so do you

Kuanlin: “I guess I’ll just see you around?”

You: “yeah, and we can plan for next time?”

Kuanlin: “yeah”

he smiles, his teeth shining and his cheeks with a light blush

You: “hopefully….. it’s just the two of us next time?”

his cheeks flush to an even darker shade and silently nods

after that, you two did make some plans to hang out……………………. alone

movies

dinner

a walk in the park

all that good stuff

but it feels different from last time……… a good different

and after that…….. these dates just continue

Kuanlin is an interesting boyfriend

bc he’s kind of shy… but also not really?

he’s got a weird balance

and it works

bc he’s friendly but also not

it’s just weird to explain

this also means you have to take the initiative

sometimes he will but half of the time he’ll also back out of it

(unless you encourage him ofc)

anyways

dating lifeguard!Kuanlin means you being a horrible flirt and asking if he can do cpr on you

You: “help, you took my breath away” ;)

Kuanlin: “why are you like this”

kidding

but not really—he loves it, but he’s also super embarrassed whenever you use those cheesy lines

he still kisses you tho

also he likes to act super cool

we all know he’s a cutie

(he does aegyo for you when you ask, but he’s not anyone else exploit that)

(but we know he’s got that natural aegyo)

anyways

after the pool parties and such, you basically come to pick him and help him dry off before y’all go off on one of y’all’s dates or something

or sometimes you tag along with him

it’s interesting to really observe him and he’s really just chilling with a bunch of other kids younger than him

you also manage to make a couple of new friends at these parties too lmao

just a side note tho, for one date you two DID go out to get his lil pink whistle customized

(it’s got fire emojis to match his swimming trunks)

honestly tho, just the image of Kuanlin with the little sunscreen on his nose and bag is just so adorable

you have many candid photos of him on your phone and took two hours deciding which one would be the wallpaper vs the lockscreen

(there’s one where he’s in this matching floatie with this little girl, he’s trying to help her swim in the pool………………. super cute)

anyways

your dates are almost always interrupted by one or some of the Summer Boys

completely unintentional and intentional at the same time

it’s not a bad thing that you get along with them, but…..

when Kuanlin told them you two were officially dating……..

Lucas: “CALLED IT”

Jihoon: “you couldn’t hold it off a couple more days? I had a bet going with Jaemin—sTOP HITTING ME YOU TREE”

it’s okay, you don’t mind it because it’s all fun to observe the chaos that your boyfriend finds himself in

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stormears · 5 years ago

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AO3 Author Tag Meme

I’ve used FFN since 2005 and still do, but lately it’s almost entirely to update 1 Naruto story that’s also cross-posted on AO3. For this, I’m using my newer, more frequently used AO3 account, which has the Naruto story and a handful of others.

AO3 Name: UmbreonLy [Umbreon if it was an adverb?]

Fandoms & # of Fics: 4 Fandoms, 7 fics

Naruto (link) 3

Haikyuu (link): 2

My Hero Academia (link): 1

Star Wars Sequel Trilogy (link): 1

Final Fantasy VII Remake (1 coming soon I swear to god)

★・・・・・★・・・・・★・・・・・★・・・・・★・・・・・★

Fic you spent the most time on: Chasm (Naruto, Sakura-centric, pretty dark) has technically been going since 2015, though I didn’t post it till 2018! I started it as a oneshot for MadaSaku week 2015 and it became far too big, which is my most common fanfic problem. I adore it though.

Longest Fic: Chasm. 4 chapters and about 75k words. Chapter 5 is in progress and has about 2k. Chasm has always had very long chapters which I love, but the disgustingly slow updates are making me consider chapters in the 6-8k range instead of 11-14k.

Shortest Fic: Dragoneyes. About 5k. I saw a MadaTobi aesthetic/moodboard post with dragons in it, made by a total stranger, and decided to write fic about it, because I love those characters and I love dragons. It felt fun to write something random, unconnected, barely structured...made me feel like one of those peeps who write 500 word prompts on a whim. Even though it took two weeks.

Most Hits: The Long Walk, about 7400 hits. Chapter 1 of an MHA fic I’ll never finish, where ABO is a worldwide epidemic that caused mass panic and destruction before people started to settle into the new ways. Pro hero and newly minted alpha Bakugou comes across quirkless(????) Izuku in a random danger zone, but quirkless Izuku acts deeply suspicious. Written because I hate PWP ABO, wanted to put a plot into that trope, and wanted a tense and evenly matched fight scene between an alpha and omega. The fic is mostly Bakugou and Midoriya stepping awkwardly around their bad past relationship and beating each other bloody with ABO trimmings, and I think people appreciate that mix.

Most Kudos: The Long Walk again. Every day I check my email eagerly for chapter updates on stories I like, replies to reviews I’ve written, reviews/comments on my own stories, but three out of every four AO3 emails I get is a kudos alert for this story.

Most Comment Threads: Probably Chasm.

Fave Fic you wrote: I love Chasm...but Darcia (Haikyuu fantasy AU) makes me proud in a way that feels unique and so worthwhile. I rewrote this thing 8 or 9 times across 6 months, struggling, succeeding, failing, hating my work, actually crying at least once because I felt so inadequate...and at the end came away with Chapter 1 of a story that read like a crown jewel to me. It has JUST the vibe and words I wanted. It’s a piece where the struggle was actually worth it.

Fic you want to write: Gonna write a FFVII Sefikura fanfic where legitimate SOLDIER Cloud Strife comes to Midgar and slowly, with trepidation and confusion, gets close to respected General Sephiroth, who, at the point of gaining Cloud’s trust and love, begins to drop larger and larger hints that he had evil machinations all along and will now possess and keep Cloud like a puppet.

Share a bit of a WIP or share a story idea you’re planning:

Excerpt from wip possibly titled “Day of the Navigator” , a Haikyuu horror/space AU. Iwaizumi Hajime is an astronaut, or “navigator”, who was preparing to help evacuate Earth from incoming predatory aliens when the aliens came early. He is forced to flee Earth alone but is soon followed by a party of different aliens who bear a strong resemblance to the Seijoh team and alien Oikawa is going to break in and fuck him.

Tried to write with a “distant, vague” POV because I thought it might help cover more events in less time/paragraphs. This was a good idea because at first this was a oneshot for IwaOi Horror Week. In October 2019. It’s still not done, goddamn me. I don’t love the writing of this scene but MEHH

They stalked him.

He tracked them by their body heat and by the vibrations they emitted. They floated around the solar panels like eels through coral. Their claws tapped along the hull, their heads butted it. When they came too close or when a careful maneuver of the controls was possible, the navigator pushed back. With drills, hammers or projectiles, he punished them for their bullheaded pestering by mauling them.

Once their bodies were torn, they floated limply away—for a while. Even when he shot wires into their flesh and electrocuted them till their flesh started to cook, they returned. Once two of them drifted into range of extraneous thrusters that burned them till they cooked entirely. Their crisp bodies floated end-over-end into space. Two more of them whirled frantically about them as they floated away.

Godspeed, cunts. Hope you die.

They never did.

Each part of the body crushed or torn returned, even if it took weeks. Even bodies ripped in half grew back or stitched together again. And after one period of many weeks, he could not put off a walk to the water filtration tank any longer.

He kissed Tory the tyrannosaurus and set him on an elliptical to wait for him. Iwaizumi would find him happily in the gym once he was done. He suited up for a spacewalk from the midpoint of the ship to the aft end.

The airlock door opened. There was nothing around but a drifting comet in the far distance, silent and white. He was safely alone in the infinite dark.

The journey was quick, unfettered. Past the soldier-like battalions of solar panels, past the engine block and heavy storage armor. Three-quarters down the ship by the aft was the main water filter. Its panel came unlocked easily, dispensed easily, took a replacement receptor easily. From this view, the ship’s many dents and scars were visible. Nothing had ever come close to rupturing, but there were dozens of minor dents from impacts with debris and—and predators. His skin crawled under his suit.

A sudden alarm in the helmet told him to run for his life. The predators were coming.

Iwaizumi followed the route faster than ever before: hand over hand on the handholds, nearly requiring the air jets to realign himself when he missed one and nearly floated off. None of the creatures were in sight yet.

Take me to victory, Ushijima had said, so he did not stop.

Iwaizumi instead took himself off the usual route to a different airlock entrance than usual. It was closer, but with a longer code required for entry. While he punched digits into the panel, the alarm in his suit sounded quadruple signals of four unique heat signatures.

He foolishly spared a glanced up. One of them was crawling between the forest of solar panels above. Atop its head was brunette-colored hair. It was the outcast attacking first, pupils shrunk to nothing.

The airlock opened and Iwaizumi pushed inside with a helpless cry that fogged his helmet.

Over his head there was metallic clattering and bumping as the being crawled down the hull to him—no, two of them did. One of them grabbed at his suit as the door automatically closed.

Iwaizumi’s mind quit all efforts, longed to faint. It left him to protocol instead of thought—he twisted in the thing’s grip, executed a lean maneuver to flip and kick the attacker in the chest. There was a harsh vibration pulsing into him like an indignant scream near his head.

He rocketed into the airlock foyer, unable to breathe. He struck a wall. The door closed and sealed but he still wasn’t breathing.

Air was evacuating the suit through a horizontal tear in the arm. Pressure was returning to the chamber at the same time, beating on his ears and throat. Iwaizumi collapsed to the floor. The helmet fell off and hit the tiles with an undignified clank-clank-CLANK.

Outside the little window in the door, a man’s face looked in: the red-mouthed outcast, now with narrowed brown eyes and an open, conniving mouth with lips. It was a face he’d seen as a boy many a time when he had time for play, when he cared about sports. It was the face of a rotten bastard looking at him through a net, who’d almost seen a cheating plan to fruition. And it was the knowing smile of a man plotting. Finally the navigator, too, became knowing.

How foolish to label this one an inept outcast. How shortsighted, to not see that it danced with danger first and most often, received the most wounds and that it led its pack in these hunting parties in pursuit of him. It had followed him and brought the others to follow him. It knew how to smile. It was truly intelligent life, almost human in its persistence. Its humanity made the animal nearly able to capture and destroy him.

Take me to victory was such a fucking stupid thing to say when he had nearly been pulled away from his escape and into an open mouth. The smiling thing twitched its fingers by the round window to catch his attention. Its hand briefly seemed to be inside the glass.

Iwaizumi squinted his eyes and recognized that he was beginning to hallucinate, that his heartrate was lightning-fast and nauseating. His arms and legs shook so hard he could not control them. He gritted his teeth and tried to move them anyway, watched by the leader of the hunting pack. He rose by grabbing the nearby staircase railing and pulling forward. With it, he began a stiff, horrible walk up the short metal stair steps to the hall beyond.

The walk was short and then the railing was gone and then he could no longer stand. After turning the corner, he fell onto his knees. He sat just out of sight of that window, shaking for hours and then days.

#self #fanfiction #IwaOi #MadaSaku #Nobody tagged me for this I do what I want

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immortalcockroach · 5 years ago

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21 + 15 + 8!

asdfghjkl rose thank you for asking ♥️ this ended up coming out incredibly long, so i apologize in advance!

8) where do you take your inspiration from?

surprising! mostly from visual media, actually. graphics, art, moodboards, films, tv series, that kind of stuff. occasionally, music, and even more rarely, written media (fics, books, poems, similar). that’s for when i’m starting to get ideas. when i already have something written or ideas developed a bit more, then i have a moodboard on pinterest and a playlist on spotify, or i watch something that has the same mood/theme as the thing i’m writing.

15) if you write oc’s, how do you decide on their names?

i don’t usually write oc’s for fics, but i do them for my original stuff. the names depend on the characters’ background and location, but they all have a name that either sounds specific to their character or who they’re supposed to be, or the meaning is very connected.

in other cases, most of the time, i just go ‘woah this sounds cool’ or sometimes i build a whole character because of their name and subsequently the whole story.

21 tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? what is it about them that you admire?

i love this question!! let me give my favourite fic writers a shoutout, even though i’m probably missing some too!! it’s really long but honestly these people worked hard and they really deserve it

@grumpybell‘s ideas are absolutely brilliant. i’m a huge fan. the stories themselves, the plots would be enough for me to have a whole paragraph about, but for me, the characters are where it’s at. well-developed, very true to the canon but also to the universe the fic is set in, but also very well-rounded and overall realistic. the fics just flow really nice, honestly, and i could read them for eternity.

fic shoutout: oh darling, here’s hoping god i remember reading this red riding hood au and just... falling in love. i did. i fell in love with bellamy as the wolf and clarke’s desperation to save him, and the new take on the fairy tale, it was just absolute perfection. i keep coming to it every once in a while, honestly. it’s just magic.

@asroarke is one of those people who are just integrated into a fandom’s fanfiction. imagining t100 fanfiction with asroarke is like... imagining the sky without the stars. i think those fics were the first ones i read when i joined the fandom, and i remember one of the things i thought was how easy it was to read. everything flowed as if there was no effort needed, as if the words have always been there, just plucked and placed on a blank document. and the consistency, honestly, damn. these fics are better than probably more than half of published stuff i’ve read.

fic shoutout: drag me down. look there’s a pattern here and it’s the mythical/legends/fairy tale aus. i present you with a retelling of little mermaid in the most beautiful, soul-wrenching way. i waited every single chapter for when i came out. i read it as soon as i saw it came out, even if i was in the middle of grabbing coffee with a friend. honestly everything by asroarke is absolutely fantastic.

@blvke-bellamy okay look. when i saw may is just 15 i nearly fell off my chair. i’d kill to have that talent at 15. i would. look, i keep saying look, because i’m shook. but honestly, may’s characterization is brilliant. she took my faves from the 100 and managed to insert them into a different universe, and they feel so much like the original characters and not at all. the dynamics between them are so raw and so pure and so believable i cried at one particular scene in her fic. or it might be two scenes. and look, this is impressive on its own, and then knowing she’s just 15...god.

fic shoutout: step into the sun is a bellarke tangled au and honestly. i’m a slut for tangled. it’s so damn good. and this fic?? inspired by tangled?? absolutely brilliant. marvelous. 11/10. brought my fish to life. and honestly murphy is my favourite in the fic, literally one of my favourite portrayals of him in every fic i’ve ever read. i binged this. i lost sleep over this. no ragrets.

@pawprinterfanfic (i’m biased but. in top 3 fic writers ever. and i’ve been in a lot of popular fandoms.) paw manages to take a universe and make it hers. paw manages to create a universe out of nothing and make it feel more realistic than my own life. and honestly, i am reading her hunger games au right now and it’s amazing, but the best part is that i’m also reading the harry potter au which is even better and although both are masterpieces, i can see the improvement. the development of the characters, the amount of effort in planning and mapping things out, it’s marvellous. her fics just speak to me on a different level, it feels as if i’m experiencing them myself rather than reading them, and what i’m mostly in awe of is how immersed i am in those fics, especially the newer ones. i feel like it’s a rare skill to have.

fic shoutout: starry eyes and galaxy minds (we’ll be dancing on the clouds at night) which is a spider-man au, and honestly, i cried. it’s beautiful. it’s a masterpiece. but so is literally every single one of paw’s stories, so it was a really difficult choice. the harry potter one? j k rowling wishes she wrote it.

skai_heda (i don’t know their tumblr please someone help me find it). where do i begin. honestly. when i started reading the fic i put below, i was mesmerised by the writing style. it was partly in second pov which i’d usually refuse to read, but this writing style is something that belongs to gods. the characterization is amazing, it manages to fix some of the stuff in canon without actually changing it. everything just comes together naturally, and i always feel so satisfied when reading their fics. plus, the writing style again, especially in the fic below, is flawless. some people can create magic with their words, and i’m convinced i’ve just found one.

fic shoutout: everything that comes after deserves so much!! more!! attention!!! i remember reading the first two chapters and just being like...wooow. i was starstruck. i left a long ass comment. it’s so unique and so beautiful. it’s the only fic on this list written in the canon universe, and it’s one of my favourites i’ve ever read about the canon universe. it hurts. it makes you cry, and ache, and understand, and smack your head because you just want people to be happy. if i could pocket the way this fic made me feel, i would always keep it with me. (a little frustration, but a whole lotta love.)

give me a number and i’ll answer questions about writing fanfiction

just in case you’d like to see the same questions answered for non-fanfiction/non-fanfiction influence, see below!

15) if you write oc’s, how do you decide on their names?

specific example of mentioned above - a wip about teenagers who come from a rich side of town and a poor side. there’s posh names, like cedric, declan, byron and gregory, for people who are supposed to represent the posh, stuck-up class; hadley, tessa, abigail, kate for privileged people who are the ‘good guys’; and luca, oliver, han, freddie, who are from the poor side. it’s very classist so it was very important that the names represent the characters. usually, i go for the “vibe” of the name over the meaning, to be honest.

21 tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? what is it about them that you admire?

i love this question!!

fiction: maggie stiefvater, because her raven cycle series genuinely feels like magic when i read it. the characters are brilliant. erin morgenstern, who wrote the night circus, because that novel also feels like magic. donna tart’s the secret history feels as if you’re reading a secret and the storytelling sort of reminds me of f. scott fitzgerald’s the great gatsby in a way i can’t really describe. she creates a beautiful, magnificent atmosphere and you know what the characters are doing is wrong, but you completely understand them and it makes me, as a reader, question my own moral standards. madeline miller’s the song of achilles is a beautifully written masterpiece that made me fall in love with mythology, legends and history all over again. the way she develops the characters and retells the story i’ve heard a million times is so poetic and beautiful it just resonates with me on a different level. and finally, leigh bardugo with her six of crows series that again, makes me question my morals, but shows the friendship and loyalty between people in a beautiful way. it also shows a romance that i think is one of best written i’ve read, up there for me romances from the novels/series i’ve already mentioned.

there’s a pattern - storytelling and character-building that feels almost otherworldly, very focused on emotions and character development. basically, stories that you feel like as if they were made into films without proper, detailed development, wouldn’t translate well enough to bring the world to the screen. and romances incredibly well-developed over time, that go beyond just being romances and actually show a beautiful connection.

special mention of these directors, as they have a huge influence on my writing: christopher nolan, john krasinski, quentin tarantino, m night shyamalan, steven knight, guillermo del toro, alfred hitchcock, for their storytelling and character building. also, some of these are for the suspense that seems to come naturally. i know most of these are very popular directors, but they’re popular for a reason. i could literally write an essay on each of these people, honestly. my writing is very inspired by motion pictures, i most often look up to how these directors approached some things that i have in my writing, especially themes. (this could literally be a whole essay on its own)

#zoyanasyalenzky #god this took me ages #fic rec #the 100 #bellarke #these are all bellarke fics #i should probably say this #also #fic talk #rose #i had so much fun though #and there's so many people i haven't put in here #mostly because i'm exhausted #i just really love reading these people's fics #ask me questions if you want horribly long answers #i'll always deliver #also i might do a fic rec soon #probably should ah

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jacksonroseroth · 6 years ago

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Welcome To The Neighborhood Chapter 5

A/N: It’s Monday! This is the 5th chapter of mine and @badwolf-in-the-impala ‘s SOA collab! I hope everyone enjoyed reading so far and that you’re excited to keep following this story! As stated before, we will be alternating chapters, so previous chapter links will be linked below! New chapters will be posted EVERY Monday! Happy reading ^-^

Warnings: Physical Abuse, Fighting, Bit o’Fluff

Words: 4,131

Moodboard by @badwolf-in-the-impala, none of the pictures are ours

Previous Chapter

“Jesus…” Kacey sighed, completely spent as she rested her head against Opie’s chest. Her eyes slipping closed for a moment as she listened to the steady beating of his heart and the soft chuckle that rumbled through his chest as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders; pulling her closer. “Did we break the bed? I think we might have broken the bed.” She let out a small chuckle herself, nestling closer as Opie’s fingers traced over the patterns of the lotus and mandala tattoo sleeve on her left upper arm.

“Nah...Bed’s fine.” He replied as he rested his chin on top of Kacey’s head gently. “The rest of the house I’m not so sure.”

“Worth it.” Kacey chuckled as she shifted to lean over Opie, grabbing his jeans off the floor and digging around in the pockets for his pack of smokes and a lighter, sitting back against the headboard as she lit one and took a drag before passing it over to Opie.

“You wanna go offer one of those to my neighbors as well?” Opie joked, wincing with a laugh as Kacey punched his arm lightly.

“Well, if they didn’t know your name before, they certainly do now.” Kacey retorted with a smirk as she took the cigarette back, pressing a kiss to his lips, nipping at his lower lip gently as she pulled away and took another pull, Opie letting out a soft groan in response.

“You’re lucky I have to be back to the Clubhouse by 8.” He growled lowly, Kacey letting out a laugh as she leaned forward to check the time on the clock beside the bed.

“We still have time.” She replied with a sly grin tugging at her lips.

“I still have to shower…” Opie groaned as he rubbed a large hand over his face and beard before glancing back up at Kacey who was now grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Christ, Woman, are you tryin’ to fuckin’ break me before Church?” He laughed.

“That’s never been an issue before.” Kacey snorted as she shifted to stamp out what was left of the cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand, before she climbed off the bed and wrapped herself up in the sheet, heading for the bathroom. “Besides, if we do it in the shower, at least you won’t reek of sex when we get out,” Kacey added, innocently, before dropping the sheet as she stopped just inside the doorway, giving him a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows.

“You’re gonna end up giving me a Goddamn heart attack.” Opie chuckled softly as he rolled out of the bed and quickly followed Kacey into the shower. He knew he’d get his ass chewed out if he was late for church, again, but God be damned if he wasn’t gonna make sure it was at least worth every bit of it in the end.

By the time Harper pulled back into the driveway, the rumble of Opie’s bike followed. As Harper got out of her truck, waiting in the garage, Opie pulled in and steadied his bike so Kacey could get off, trailing a hand over his back. She smiled and took off her helmet, handing it to him and placing a light kiss on his cheek. Harper took a final drag from her cigarette and flicked the butt away, raising an amused eyebrow as her sister walked over to her, a satisfied smirk on her face. When she reached her sister, Kacey linked their arms and turned to Opie, giving a wave and said, “Thanks for the ride, Ope.”

Opie chuckled and saluted the sisters with two fingers as he backed out of the drive, then took off down the road. Kacey sighed and turned to Harper with a sweet smile.

“And how was your afternoon?” She teased, practically bouncing inside the house, making Harper roll her eyes as she turned to follow her, closing the garage.

“I see you convinced him everything is alright?” Harper questioned as Kacey raided the fridge. She popped up over the door and gave her a look.

“Unclench, Harps. We smoked and drank. I always feel happy when I get...Happy.” She giggled. “Why do you think I have the munchies?”

Kacey held up a jar of salsa and a container of cream cheese, setting it down before scavenging through the cabinets for tortilla chips. Harper smiled and grabbed a bowl from the rack next to the sink, scooping in a generous amount of cream cheese before covering it in salsa. Kacey set the bag of chips down after grabbing one herself and digging into the concoction. Harper licked her lips and sat back with a smirk and a sigh.

“Damn. We haven’t had this in a long time.” Harper said with a chuckle, snagging another chip and scooping up more. Kacey chuckled and nodded, hunkering down in her spot as she nibbled on the remains of her chip.

“Yeah. Last time was...What? The day before we left? Polly was fuckin’ furious.” Kacey chuckled. Harper snickered and mimicked the words, “Do you know where we got that salsa?!”

“All the way from Spain herself!” Kacey continued. Laughing, the sisters said in unison, “Salsa España!”

They both laughed until they had to wipe the tears from their eyes and the silence settled over them as they dove into long lost memories. They took a few more moments before Harper stood and went to the fridge, grabbing two beers and said, “Yeah. Aunt Poll was dumb as shit.”

Kacey snorted into her bite and shook her head, accepting the beer from her sister. Harper sighed and sat back down, pulling her legs up and crossing them under her as she took a sip. Kacey sat back, licking some cream cheese off her thumb and sighed. After another sip of her beer, she nodded at her sister, pointing the bottle at her and said, “So, how’d it go with Jax?”

Harper nodded and said, giving her sister a look, “Convinced. Especially when I had to bullshit about you being paranoid and that’s why I locked up my bike and my truck.”

Kacey clicked her tongue, pointing a finger at her. “Got it.” She said. “I told Opie it had been a while since my last ‘attack’ and I was just on edge.”

“That’s perfect,” Harper said with a chuckle. Kacey smirked and raised her bottle, tilting it toward Harper and said, “Yay, sisters?”

Harper chuckled and clinked her bottle to Kacey’s and said, “Yay, sisters.”

When Opie finally rolled into chapel, he got a stern look from Clay, but otherwise didn't interrupt and the meeting kept going. Once Clay banged the gavel and everyone filed out, Jax stayed in his seat, giving Opie a look to stay behind as well.

“Everything okay?” Clay asked when he saw neither man had moved. Jax stood and nodded, giving him a reassuring smile and patting his shoulder.

“Yeah, man. We’re cool.” Jax said. Clay turned to Opie and said, “Next time you’re late-”

“I know. I know. Sorry, Clay. Won't happen again.” Opie said with a small smirk, knowing the most he’d get is an ass-kicking. Clay chuckled and patted Opie on the shoulder as he left, Jax following him to the door and closing it. Opie sighed and glanced back at his friend and brother before he said, “So, what’s up, Jax?”

Jax rounded the table and took his seat again, folding his hands on the table, leaning into it a little. “Kacey seem on edge to you? I mean it all happened when Alvarez showed up.” He said. Opie nodded and shrugged.

“Yeah, she said that she hadn’t had a panic attack in a while and that’s why,” Opie said.

“Do you believe her?” Jax asked. Opie sighed and shifted in his seat.

“I dunno. I want to.” Opie said, glancing back to the door then looking at Jax, leaning forward. “She has no reason to lie to me. What did Harper say?”

“Not much. But she put her truck and her bike in the garage. I’ve never seen it anywhere but the driveway. Like she’s proud to have it on display.” Jax said. Opie nodded and said, “I noticed that when I dropped Kacey off at the house.”

Jax smirked and said, “Yeah? Is that why you were late?”

Opie smirked and said, “Hey, man. That one has got some stamina. Next time I’m not here, it’ll be from a goddamn heart attack.”

Jax chuckled and shook his head, sitting back in his chair. He rubbed a hand over his chin and said, “Yeah...I know what you mean.”

Opie raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “You and Harper? Shit, we’re in trouble now.”

Jax chuckled and nodded. “How long have you two been goin’ at it?” He asked, causing Opie to make a face at him and shake his head while he chuckled. Jax snickered as Opie said, “It’s just a casual thing. I got the vibe she really doesn’t want anything serious.”

Jax nodded and said, “Yup. Harper mentioned some exes in their past. Probably the reason why…For you at least.”

Jax leaned forward and stuck a cigarette between his smirking lips, sparking up his lighter while Opie raised his eyebrows and tilted his head with a smirk. “Hang on...You and Harper...As in…”

Jax sat back and huffed out the smoke as his answer, leaving Opie to laugh and shake his head. “Shit, brother. Now you’re really in deep shit. Can you imagine what Gemma’s gonna do when she finds out?” Opie chuckled. Jax shrugged and dragged the ashtray closer to him, ashing the cigarette.

“Accept her and be overjoyed to have a daughter?” Jax said. “I mean, come on, Ope. They’re living next door, they’ve been at every party, every barbecue. They’re practically like family anyway.”

Opie shook his head and chuckled. “Just do me one favor?”

Jax smirked and nodded at him. “What?”

“Please, for the love of God, let me be there when you tell Gemma,” Opie said. Jax chuckled and shook his head while Opie laughed.

A week passed since the almost run in with Alvarez. Kacey was still a tad on edge, but managed to keep it in check and went about her work like nothing had happened. Harper kept an eye out for any newcomers in the diner, just on the off chance they were associated with the Mayans. It took another week before Harper felt safe enough to bring their bikes back out and start riding again, christening her poor locked up Harley with a ride into Oakland for some new parts for Kacey’s bike. With their birthday coming up soon, she wanted to surprise her with the new mod she had been wanting. When she found the few stores that would order the mod she wanted, she was careful to avoid any Mayan territory so there was no risk of running into Alvarez, or worse; Nico or Bastien.

Harper rolled into the parking lot of Alvin’s Auto and turned off her engine. With a sigh, she took off her helmet and hung it on the handlebars before swinging off her bike and walking inside. She browsed for a while, noting that there was only one salesman, and he was quite busy with how involved he was with his customer. After grabbing a few things for her truck and one or two things extra for Kacey, she went up to the counter and waited as the salesman rung up his customer and he left.

“Hello, there, Miss. Can I help you with something?” He asked, making his way down the counter to her. Harper smiled at him, setting her things down and added, “I spoke on the phone with a, um, Bob? He said my order was here.”

“Oh, right! You’re Miss…” The man, Bob, pulled out a small pocketbook and leafed through it, running his fingers up and down the pages until the right name stood out to him. “Calhoun? Harper Calhoun?”

“Yes, sir.” She said with a chuckle. Bob smiled and nodded, stowing the pocketbook away. He held up a finger as he took a step away from the counter and said, “I’ll be right back with your package, Miss Calhoun...Oh, I’ll be right with you, gentlemen!”

As Bob disappeared to the back of the store, a chill ran down Harper’s spine, not daring to look behind her as she heard the sound of boots clicking on the linoleum floor of the store. Harper kicked herself a thousand times for being too chicken to carry her pistol in her storage on her bike and never regretted anything more than that decision in this moment. She fiddled with her keys as the boot steps got closer, ready to swing if, whoever it was, decided to try anything. She prayed that it wasn’t Alvarez and hoped it was anyone but Bastien; She knew he’d be out for blood, didn't matter which sister. But as soon as she felt the hand on her shoulder, her heart dropped.

“Harpy. I thought you left town.” Nico said. Harper sighed and turned to him, freezing for a moment when she saw Bastien right behind him. With a shaky breath, she let out a broken, short chuckle and said, “I-I did. Um, I-This was the only place that, um, that had the parts I needed.”

Nico looked her over and smirked, glancing back to Bastien. He turned back to Harper and said, “You look good. It’s been a minute.”

Harper sighed and turned back around, not entirely capable of handling this while staring right at him. “Yeah. Well, leaving was the best thing I ever did...So…” She said, her voice dropping off at the end from the confidence it held at the start. Nico snickered behind her, making her cast a glare at him over her shoulder.

“You think that was a choice, baby?” He asked. Nico moved around her to lean on the counter and make her look at him, which she did if only a glance. “Mi Amor, we made you leave. And we told you not to come back to Oakland.”

She didn't know why, but finally being able to stand her ground gave her a snarky sense of confidence and she looked at Nico with a smirk and said, “Actually, what I believe Marcus said was never to be seen in Mayan territory again. And Alvin’s is just this side of Mayan so...Technically, I didn't break any rules.”

Harper held her satisfied smirk, if only for another second or two before it faded and she looked away from him. Nico chuckled and glanced over to Bastien, who merely gave a sneer before he said, “You’d better tell that bitch sister of yours that she better not show her face here. Otherwise, rules or no, she’ll get what’s coming to her.”

“Don’t fucking threaten my sister or you won’t have the balls to cheat on another woman again.” Harper hissed, gripping her keys so hard, she was pretty sure she had either bent them or cut herself, she wasn’t sure which with the amount of rage that filled her. Nico laughed as Bob came back out, carrying her package. He glanced between Nico and Harper as he set the box down and said, “Is everything alright?”

“Fine,” Harper said, grabbing the box. “I paid for this online. Thank you.”

Harper hugged the box to her side and turned on her heel to stride out as Bob called after her, “Hey! Miss!? Did you want to buy this other stuff?!”

Harper didn't answer and strode out of the store, stuffing the box into her storage compartment and grabbing her helmet as she sat on her bike. Her hands shook, making it harder for her fingers to buckle the helmet, even more so when she saw Nico and Bastien heading out of the store. She fumbled once with her keys before her engine roared to life and she quickly backed out, taking off down the street. She was so shaken, she realized she had driven straight into Mayan territory and needed to flip a bitch, fast. Once she did, she saw Nico and Bastien heading right at her, smirking. She swore under her breath and sped up, not much caring if she got pulled over, at least it would scare them off. But as her bad luck would have it, no cops showed up and Nico and Bastien began to gain on her, steadily, until they ran her off the road and made her lay down her bike in the dirt off the highway. Harper whimpered as she picked herself out of the gravel, crawling over to her bike.

Thank God Kacey made me wear my jacket. She thought, knowing otherwise her arms would have been scraped to shit. Just before she reached her bike, she felt a hand on the back of her leather jacket, yanking her to her feet. Harper gripped Nico’s arms as he hauled her up, holding her by her throat. She whimpered and tried to pull away, but he had a strong grip on her other arm, preventing her from escaping.

“You tell that sister of yours that you two had better watch yourselves. You think just cause you live in Charming now, that the Sons can protect you?” Nico hissed. Harper’s eyes went wide in fear. The gesture only made Nico smirk and chuckle as he nodded and said, “Yeah. Yeah, that’s right, love. We know exactly where you bitches are at. You think Marcus didn't see you two hauling your boney white asses back into the club? See, we couldn’t do anything because we were on the Son's turf and my uncle, for some fuckin’ reason, wants to be respectful. But I’m tellin’ you now, baby, you show your face around Oakland again, you won’t only be going home with a few scrapes and bruises.”

Nico released her and Harper gasped for air, but only had a moment before Nico’s hand struck her, hard, across her face, planting her right back in the gravel. Nico smirked and chuckled as he and Bastien made their way back to their bikes. Harper stayed down, listening to the rocks crunch beneath their boots and waited until the sound of their engines were far enough away before she looked up, crawling back to her bike. She checked herself over after she pulled herself up and righted her bike, grabbing her phone and checking her face. She was lucky she had the presence of mind to cross her arms over her face as she went down, though her hands were scraped up. She quickly stuffed her phone back into her pocket and took off down the highway, tears streaming down her face. She didn't want to go home and freak out Kacey even more and she’d be damned if Gemma found out and demanded justice be done for her. So, once she got back into town, she sped right over to Jax’s.

Still shaking, she hardly bothered with turning off her bike, gas prices be damned. She threw off her helmet and hurried to the door, knocking her bruised and bloodied knuckles on the wood, rapidly, pressing her hands against it as she panted, softly. When she heard Jax’s voice travel from the back of the house, she sighed, relieved. But her relief only lasted a moment. When Jax opened the door, happy to see her at first, his smile faded when he saw her face and hands and angrily demanded, “What happened? Who did this?!”

The tears started again, Harper unable to stop them. Jax sighed and hurried her inside, sitting her down at the kitchen table and rushing to grab an ice pack for her hands. As he laid the ice on her knuckles, making her hiss, he asked again, a little more gently this time, “Harper, what happened?”

Harper sniffed and shook her head, staring at the table. “Nico and Bastien...Mostly Nico...All that cheating scumbag Bastien did was snicker and threaten Kacey.” She hissed through her sobs. She was a bundle of emotions, still trying to get over the incident; Scared, pissed and hurt, she didn't know which way was up.

“Okay, hang on, babe. Back up here...Nico? Bastien?” Jax asked. Harper turned her head away from him, biting her lip. At first, the idea of going to Jax was a good one, she knew he’d take care of her, let her come back to sanity and she could do it without taking Kacey down with her, but she didn't think about the fact that she would have to tell Jax about Nico and Bastien, and that they were Mayan. Jax leaned a little closer, taking her hand gently and said, “Who are they, Harp?”

Harper sighed and pushed his hands away as she stood, turning away from him. “Our exes…” She said, finally. She took a breath before she added, “Mayans…”

Jax blinked and stood, slowly, saying, “Mayans? You-You and Kacey dated Mayans?”

While Harper stayed quiet, another realization hit Jax. He inhaled and shook his head before he said, “Is that why you flipped out when Alvarez showed up?!...Wait-Nico? As in his nephew Nico!? Nico Alvarez is your ex?!”

“Yes, Jax! Okay?!” Harper shouted, turning to him as she tossed her hands in the air. “Yes. Nico Alvarez is my ex and Kacey dated Bastien Morales, Nico’s best friend…” She took another moment before she added, “He’s the one...Who’s car she shot up...She caught him cheating on her and beat the shit out of the dumb bitch, then shot up his car.”

Jax sighed and rubbed his face with a groan, beginning to pace his kitchen before stopping to lean against the counter. He braced his hands on the edge and stared at the floor for a minute before he looked up at her. “So why were you two so freaked out by Marcus?” He asked, his tone very unforgiving. Harper chewed her lip as she shifted and said, “The bitch she beat up was Sara Alvarez, Jax! Nico’s sister, Marcus’ niece! Marcus found out and told us to get out of Mayan territory and stay out! Why do you think we moved to Charming?! Because of the homely small town feel? No!”

“So, what? You found out about us and just decided we’d be good protection?!” Jax asked, taking a few steps closer to her. Harper shook her head and scoffed at him.

“I can’t believe you’d say that to me, Jax. I didn't mention Alvarez because I never thought we’d stick around long enough for it to be an issue!” Harper shouted. She shook her head again and headed for the door, saying, “I never should have come here…”

As Harper turned to leave, Jax grabbed her arm and said, “No. Hey. We’re gonna talk about this, Harper! This is a big deal, okay? You dated his fuckin’ nephew, Harper! This information we should have known, I should have known!”

“Why, Jax?! Why?!” Harper shouted, ripping her arm away from him. “It’s not like this was going to be a long term thing anyway.”

Harper quickly walked out, leaving Jax alone with her comment. He rubbed his face and sighed, grabbing his keys off the table and going to his room to look for his Kutte. Despite her past, Jax cared about her, a lot more than he was willing to admit and with his own trainwreck of bad relationships, he was gonna make this one work. But by the time he’d gotten out the door, Harper was already backing out of the driveway.

“Harper! Hey!” Jax called. Harper ignored him and sped down the street, tears streaming down her face as she headed home. She just prayed Kacey wasn’t home. As she rode home, she finally noticed that Jax was trailing her, trying to keep up with her without running into the cops, always a few blocks behind her. Annoyed and hurt, she started going down random streets, trying to shake him off. Jax managed to finally come up alongside her and shouted, “Pull over!”

“Fuck off!” Harper shouted back.

“Harper! Pull over! Now!” Jax called. Harper only jammed the throttle and sped up, continuing to try and shake Jax, managing to lose him at a red light. Once she was sure he was no longer behind her, Harper slowed down and got back on the right route home as the sun started to set. She’d been gone all day and she was exhausted. But she prepared herself for another argument or a panic attack from Kacey as she turned onto her street.

Please, don’t let her be home.

Next Chapter

Hope you guys liked it! Feel free to drop a comment! If you want to be tagged in future fics/chapters, let me know! I’ll add you to the list!

@tephi101 @shieldmaiden25 @staystrongsoa @badwolf-in-the-impala @captstefanbrandt @imgoldielikehawn @grungyblonde @courtrae89 @romanchronicles @crazyanonymous4u

#SOA #Sons Of Anarchy #Redwood Originals #Jax #Jax Teller #Jackson 'Jax' Teller #Opie Winston #Harry 'Opie' Winston #Clay Morrow #Gemma Teller #Kacey Calhoun #Harper 'One Shot' Calhoun #Men Of Mayhem #Reaper Crew #Charlie Hunnam #Ryan Hurst #Nina Dobrev as Harper's Face Claim #Amber Heard As Kacey's Face Claim

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witchqueenofthemoon · 6 years ago

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BODY AND SOUL Part 25 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: From here on out, Duncan and Kenzie will both start to manifest more of their witch/warlock powers, amid the rest of the story. Their powers in this universe will never be as strong as their powers are as Michael and Mallory, but they will eventually learn how to control them better. The further they get from the city, the stronger their powers will become--as we’ll see in the next part. Duncan’s powers are stronger when Kenzie is near and when his motivation is something for her benefit. If it’s not obvious from the context, Duncan manifests Transmutation in this part for the first time when he moves himself to the water table; as we all know, Transmutation is one of the Seven Wonders. I loved getting to write Madeline telling Gretchen to shut the fuck up. Duncan panicked so immediately at Kenzie’s disappearance, he completely forgot about trying to use his phone to call/text her; I needed him to realize he can feel her over distances now, so fuck phones. The macarons look like this. The gold bottles of Moet are these. With Sargent’s KARER SEE, I wanted to give the readers an indication of Duncan’s idea of heaven in a piece of art he’d looked at since childhood; a lot of the next few chapters will be about the magic and divinity of nature, so it’s leading into those themes. The artworks I reference in this part: Waterhouse’s THE MAGIC CIRCLE (I have a print of that one hanging in the hallway of our apartment), Robert-Hughes’ MIDSUMMER EVE (I’ve had a print of this one since I was 14, and that print hangs in our entranceway), Millais’ THE MARTYR OF THE SOLWAY, Robert-Hughes’ DREAM IDYLL (I want a print of this one so bad now, fuck, it’s so beautiful). The service people are dressed as The Lady of Shalott, Narcissus, and Rosamund. Here’s Robert-Hughes’ DAY and NIGHT (STAR OF HEAVEN). As my Duncan is a lifelong art lover (especially romantic art), he has studied the Pre-Raphaelites extensively and knows the paintings from that time period extremely well. I made D’AULAIRES BOOK OF GREEK MYTHS Duncan’s most beloved in childhood because for a long time it was MY most beloved, starting around the time I was 11 or 12--I would check it out of the library almost every week and draw meticulous copies of the illustrations. It was the first book that really made me love mythology, and it is VERY close to my (and my Duncan’s) heart. The older edition (the one I’d get at the library) had a yellow cover and looked like this, and that’s what Duncan’s copy looks like too. Here’s the illustration of Persephone running to Demeter. Annette’s Bosendorfer Imperial looks like this. I made C-sharp the key that opens the passage in the library to the garage because it’s the first note of MOONLIGHT SONATA. The oak paneling in the library looks like this, the chandeliers like this. G-class Mercedes SUVs really do come with a smart key feature, I didn’t make that up, I think that shit is fucking bananas. BPM is one of the electronic/house stations on Sirius XM. Here is the beautiful Jubel cover of DANCING IN THE MOONLIGHT Kenzie starts dancing to. That song is such a Duckenzie vibe. I listened to Kiiara’s Gloe a lot while editing this part, that is a HARD Duckenzie vibe song (”chain me up trap me in gold” like asdskgjshdghsg). SOMEONE PLEASE MAKE ME A GALA MOODBOARD, THANK YOU, I LOVE YOU ALL.

Duncan had felt drunk inside the strange aura Kenzie had created around them; his head was pounding now that it had evaporated, and it was all he could do to hold her against him, steady himself in her embrace. She felt suddenly hot and too-smooth under his fingers, like warm liquid was falling down her skin, like whatever she’d created around them was melting off her like rain water.

“Kenzie, baby, what was that?” He stared at her, his mind pricking with the residue of whatever it had been, like the final shocks of a fading orgasm. It was your power, angel. It was the energy that resides deep inside you. I know it was yours--but how did you do that? He’d balked harshly at Marissa’s sudden appearance, fighting off his intense dislike of her as best he could while she had been standing before him, but his relief at her departure was so heady he felt his body tingling with it now, with the relief of it. She had been from some other life; known some other Duncan. She should never have approached them, but Kenzie, he should have known, could take care of herself quite well, and now, it seemed, more than ever.

“I don’t really know, honestly, Dunny.” Kenzie’s face was pale under her makeup, her little breaths against him ragged with strain. “I just--I made her go away. I told her to leave.”

“That energy that was around us--it was like a force-field. I could feel it, Kenz. Like it was physical. Like putting your hand in water.”

“I made it. But I don’t really...I don’t know how. I just did it. I pulled it out of myself and put it around us.”

She was pressing against him, and Duncan knew she needed his energy, his comfort. Maybe I can give her some of myself the way she gives herself to me so often--the way she pushes gold into me. He brought his cheek against the side of her face, his hands drifting at the rose buds at the back of her hair, and tried to imagine the blue of him floating down into her; he watched Kenzie’s face relax, then her eyes closed. It’s working. He noticed some of the other guests watching them, glancing to him embracing her, over her gold train and her rose-scattered hair amid their conversations and as they drifted past into the dining area. Duckenzie, Duckenzie, Duckenzie. Duncan Shepherd and Mackenzie Stone, there they are, look how beautiful they are, a Shepherd and a Stone, can you believe it, look at how he holds her--Duncan almost felt as though he could hear their thoughts. The night seemed to stretch into forever for him, and despite his concern for her he still couldn’t will away the agonizing sensitivity of the ring around his cock; will this ever end? God, I want to be alone with you so much, Kenzie. I can’t wait for this night to be over. I long to be safe and hidden in your embrace; I long for our solitude. Kenzie nodded against him, and he realized he had gathered her up in his arms, realized she was weak to the point of collapse, her knees buckling. She let out a little gasp, as if in surprise.

“I think it--I think it was too much, baby,” she whispered, and he stepped around her, lifting under her arms to help her sit down on the staircase near them. “I think I just--I need some water.”

“Okay, baby, okay,” Duncan was crouching down near her, his mind racing with fear. Fuck, baby, what WAS that? It was so intense, so powerful--it knocked the breath out of me to even be touching you while you did it. How can you possibly do something like that? What are you, Kenzie? What are we? He pressed his hands along her arms, soothingly, thinking his blue-flame thoughts down into her, imagining them licking around her carefully, like a low fire of soothing warmth. This is all so strange, but it feels so familiar too.. Like we’re unlocking parts of ourselves we didn’t realize were there. But they have been, all this time.

“I’m gonna go get you some water, okay, baby? I’ll be right back.” Duncan was whispering against her cheek. Kenzie nodded, her arms limp in her lap, her face still pale.

“Yes, please,” she murmured, her voice small, sighing. “I just need to sit for a minute.”

Duncan kissed her cheek with aching softness, then stood, pushing the worry he felt down with an insistent hand, turning towards the dining area that had been set up through the hall--he immediately noticed a huge banner that covered the wall through the carpeted way here, a towering print of Waterhouse’s The Magic Circle, falling from the top of the mansion’s high ceiling to the black carpet that ran along the floor here, continuing from outside. Tonight I see Kenzie in it, he thought. Kenzie pulling the circle out of herself and willing Marissa away with it. Fuck, I was so angry, but Kenzie was so calm. Kenzie was so fearless. And she is. How can I be afraid when she’s near? Okay, Duncan, focus. Kenzie needs water. Find some, quickly.

He glanced behind him to see Kenzie still resting on the step, her hand pressed to the side of her face, her gaze staring off into space. God, how did you do that, though, baby? That was fucking magic. I don’t know what else to call it. Like us being able to hear each other’s thoughts. Just straight fucking magic. What ARE you, my love? Who are you? He turned back, peering into the huge inner parlor he knew comprised this part of his mother’s mansion.

There were six low tables, embellished with black and gold cloth, spread against one wall, each with a stunning array of hors d’oeuvres and intricate sweets--round black-chocolate macarons with intricate golden icing, mounds of chocolate-dipped strawberries (white, dark, milk, caramel, toffee, even some with pink white chocolate) in every nook, tray after tray of glistening caviar and charcuterie, a hundred gold bottles of Moet stacked in a card-tower display, an impressive roasted pig with a russet-gold roasted apple in its mouth that seemed to be culled straight from a Medieval banquet hall, and an array of huge sheet cakes, each with a major Pre-Raphaelite work printed on it with sharp clarity--he could make out one with Robert-Hughes’ Midsummer Eve stretched across it, another with Millais’ serenely melancholy Martyr of the Solway. Everywhere I see her now, in everything, Duncan thought. There is no aspect that hasn’t adopted her shape. There is nothing that doesn’t reflect her in my eyes. He noticed crystal pitchers full of shivering ice water near the entrance to the next parlor with relief--but as Duncan went to step up to them to pour one for Kenzie, his path was blocked by a garish visage of gold and white tinsel--Gretchen Friedrichs.

“Duncan! There you are. But without your little princess, I see, I wonder where she went?”

Duncan breathed heavily through his nose, turning his eyes up to the ceiling, away from her blindingly white smile. Fates, surely you are testing me tonight. He felt his cock soften in the ring at the monstrosity of her dress--that at least is a boon, I guess.

“Afraid I don’t have the time for you tonight, Gretchen. You have a very selective memory regarding my willingness to actually engage with you.”

“You can’t possibly avoid me forever, Dunc-y,” she hissed, her smile clenching into a grimace. “I saw you and little Miss Stone talking to Marissa Montague over there, what a menage a trois that was, BPF would pay good money for the photo I snapped, I bet.”

“Gretchen, do whatever you want, but get out of my fucking way.” Duncan could feel hot anger boiling up behind his eyes and he snapped his mouth shut after the statement, his hands beginning to shake. Kenzie needs water and you are blocking it. Gretchen continued to ramble on with a smug look, but Duncan could no longer hear her words; a rushing like the hum of an ocean wave was filling his ears, and he closed his eyes, his body feeling hot, too hot, burning suddenly, like a fire growing under dry wood. I need to get to that water.

Suddenly Duncan was in front of the water pitcher table, so close to it he was falling against the edge, his eyes snapping open, almost losing his balance, bewildered as to how he got there. He glanced behind him in shock, noting that Gretchen was still where they’d both been standing a moment ago--he could only see the back of her horrible tinsel dress now, her head moving from side to side in confusion to find him. “What,” Duncan murmured to himself. “How--the fuck?” I thought about what I needed--water for Kenzie. And then what, I moved myself to the water table with my fucking mind? He felt wildly dizzy for a moment, watched the room pitch under his gaze, felt his eyes rolling--then he steadied himself with a forceful hand and grasped one of the pitchers, dipping it into one of the glass tumblers lined there. Who fucking cares, he thought. Water to Kenzie first, then I can figure out what the hell that was all about.

Duncan felt a hand dip against his elbow, dragging him out of his inner monologue--he heard Madeline’s familiar laugh near his shoulder, and looked down at her with a wave of intense relief. He noticed Erik had come up beside him with her, and Madeline’s laugh was directed at Annette’s flamboyant stylist.

“Duncan, there you are,” Madeline said, mirroring Gretchen’s facetious words with a reassuring sincerity. “Where’s Kenzie?” Suddenly Madeline looked worried, her mouth dipping down from the laugh.

“She felt dizzy and asked me to get her some water, so I left her on the stairs in the foyer--”

“Did something happen, sweetie? You look terribly pale.” Erik was holding a dry martini with three green olives swirling in the bottom, a plastic stirring straw languidly poised in his hand. He’d clearly been in the middle of one of his many wild stories (usually regarding being an openly gay socialite in 70’s New York City), but had stopped abruptly upon seeing Duncan’s confused face.

“We ran into Marissa Montague. She was harassing us--I don’t know how to explain it. Kenzie told her to go away, and she did. But then Kenzie felt dizzy. I think it’s all...it’s just a lot for her,” he finished, lamely. Finding out she has the actual mind power to make people go away if she wants them to, yeah, that’s a lot for her. And a lot for me too. And apparently I can move myself from one place to another just by thinking about it hard enough. So...that’s new.

“Honey, you look awful--I mean, you look wonderful, but you look awful, like you did last night. I saw Annette in the next room over, you might want to stay out of there if you’re trying to avoid her tonight,” Madeline had a plate with several of the chocolate-and-gold macarons on it in her hand. She offered one to Duncan and he took it. “Thanks, Madeline. I’ll bring this to Kenzie too. I think we’re just--it’s been a really long few days.”

“Duncan Shepherd, you’re going to talk to me or I’m going to give that photo to BPF--” Gretchen’s voice was coming up on them now from where she’d finally turned around.

“Gretchen, shut the fuck up,” Madeline snapped at her, pursing her lips and glaring at the platinum-haired woman over her glasses. “I told you not to cart your bootlicking bony ass near Duncan and Mackenzie tonight, didn’t I? Are you fucking deaf?” Gretchen’s mouth closed with a snap, and Erik snorted at her in abrupt amusement. Duncan sent a silent thank you out to Kenzie’s (wonderful, bold, brilliant, badass) mother, and brushed past Gretchen’s horrible tinsel sleeve, the glass of water in one hand and the little chocolate macaron in the other, back towards where he had left Kenzie on the stairs. He heard Gretchen’s snappy heels try to come after him, then the rushing swirl of Erik’s earrings and poncho as he blocked her path. I love you both so much, Duncan thought. I could kiss your feet right now. I could sing your high praises into heaven.

He walked quickly back through the hall, heart racing, eyes glancing back up to The Magic Circle, hovering over him, spread gargantuan on the wall like an overwhelming spell, and he felt a drop in his stomach, suddenly, a foreboding drift of precognition--Duncan looked up to where he’d left Kenzie on the stairs. The spot was empty, and Kenzie was nowhere to be seen.

Oh no. Baby. Where are you.

Duncan’s eyes skirted back and forth rapidly, over the politicians and celebrities decked in opulent gowns and meticulously tailored suits, his heart floating up again into his throat, stifling his breath. He tried to steady his racing thoughts--okay, Duncan, okay. Where would she have gone. Maybe she went outside to get some air. The front balcony is up the stairs. She would have seen it from outside.

Duncan turned up the staircase, dipping his head down, anxious to avoid anyone coming down the stairs opposite him, but skirting his eyes up to search for Kenzie. He saw a flash of gold on the opposite side of the staircase, started toward it--but it was someone else, a random woman with a gold bow tied around her waist, her arm looped around the man descending the stairs beside her. And the problem with making gold part of the theme is...everyone is wearing something gold. A cold sweat was breaking out on Duncan’s brow, and his skin felt clammy, his nerves jangling wildly. Fuck, baby, where did you go.

Duncan reached the top of the staircase, turning with a clipped insistence from the banister to the upstairs railing, around to where he knew the balcony extended over the front doorway; he thought of the night he’d come here to tell his mother about Kenzie for the first time, the dark look in her eyes as she’d gazed down on the BMW from her lofty position. You always want to be a little bit above everyone else, Mom, he thought, but Claire Underwood outwitted you this time. She told me the one thing she knew would make me resent you. And now I do. I can’t help it. I’m fucking heartbroken, and I resent you. I resent that it had to come to this for you to accept Kenzie, too. For you to finally see how beautiful she is. It shouldn’t have taken you so long. It’s so obvious. She’s like the sun in a clear summer sky, the moon tonight, golden and immediate. You knew right away that she was infinitely lovely. But you refused to let me see that you knew. You were selfish, and you hid what you knew in your heart to be true. Duncan was still clutching the glass and the macaron in a careful hand. These are for Kenzie, so I need to keep them safe.

Duncan pitched one of the French doors open with the opposite hand, half-running out onto the ledge of the balcony--there were two men smoking and chatting animatedly to one another, one of them gesticulating in the air and the other laughing, and they both turned to him, surprised at the loud bang of the door swinging open. He glanced at them, them his eye skirted over the rest of the ledge, frantic, to no avail. There was no one else. Kenzie isn’t here. Kenzie, where are you, fuck, baby, where the fuck are you.

“Mr. Shepherd, are you alright?” One of the men spoke loudly to him, cupping his hand beside his mouth from where they were leaning. He didn’t recognize them, but it made sense that they’d recognize him; this was his mother’s house, after all.

“Have either of you seen Mackenzie Stone? She’s wearing a gold dress with a long train and a gold necklace with a ruby. Roses in her hair.”

The men looked at each other, shaking their heads, then back at him. “Nobody’s been out here but us since we came out to smoke. Before you, that is.”

“Okay. Um. Thanks.”

Duncan turned, sickness pitting in his stomach, feeling dizzy again. He yanked the French door open again, reentering the mansion--he could hear the loud sounds of the crowd growing downstairs, and alarm was beating wildly into him, beginning to constrict his throat and needle at his lungs. She was dizzy, what if she fainted somewhere? What if someone bothered her? Harris isn’t here, what if someone took her somewhere? Oh, fuck. The needling fear compounded in him, pressing painfully into his senses. Duncan breathed in, slowly, closing his mouth. Remember how you told her to breathe. Just breathe. Her face was so frightened. But you calmed her. You know you did. You pressed your comfort into her, the way she can to you. You can do that, too, and you know it. You just did something else, too. You moved without moving through physical space. You fucking teleported from one end of the room to the other. How the fuck would you do that? But you fucking did it. You didn’t walk around Gretchen--she wouldn’t have let you. You fucking MOVED through invisible space around her. You mutated time and space and made yourself appear where you wanted to be. You twisted it to your will. You know you did. You FELT it.

Duncan held the breath, then blew carefully through his mouth, closing his eyes.

If I can do that--if I can move through time and space if I want something badly enough, if I need it badly enough--I wonder if I can will myself to feel her, too, if I need it badly enough, if I need to know. Feel her across time and space, wherever she is in this house, feel her there, and know that she’s there, and fucking find her. I wonder if that first night on the balcony I was drawn there by the knowledge that she was there. That even though I didn’t know it consciously, I knew it innately. I knew she was there in my secret heart. I think so. I think I did.

So, now. Kenzie. Where are you. Show me where you are.

Duncan breathed in once more, through his nose--then, he held the breath, and as he did, he pressed himself outward (through time and space), sent himself, his secret self, out. He felt it, felt the piece of him like a tendril, a string (a golden thread, tinged with blue) that extended from him and drifted out, searching, intent. Kenzie. Where are you. Tell me. It’s me, Kenzie.

He continued to drift himself out this way, to let his mind wander in cool darkness. He couldn’t see the interior of the mansion in his mind--it was inky black with his eyes closed, and there were no images in his mind, but nevertheless he could feel the searching, sense it rather than see it, and knew, suddenly, that he was close to her, that she was nearby--in his senses he could suddenly smell roses and vetiver, the muskiness of her body, could sense that she was in tears, could almost taste their salt. Kenzie, Kenzie. Oh baby, where are you? It’s me. Tell me where you are. Can you hear me?

He opened his eyes. She hadn’t replied--he hadn’t heard her voice, not out loud and not in his mind, either--but Duncan could feel her anyway, feel the gold of her, pulsing like a ball of immaculate light. He couldn’t really see where she was, not with his eyes. But he could feel her. He began to walk, releasing all resistance from his mind as he let the breath out--his feet led him back down the stairs, and then he was running down them, the water from the glass in his hand splashing down his fingers. He veered to the side, around the stairs and under them, narrowly avoiding a Congresswoman in a voluminous glittering black gown, gasping out an apology and continuing back, through the space there with a good portion of his mother’s private art collection, down a back hall.

No one was back here--the hall opened to another large parlor, this one dark and quiet, the shadows long on the red velvet loveseats. Duncan knew this room well; it had once been his downstairs playroom when he was a child, later converted to another sitting room when he went away to private boarding school, the one where he’d been bullied relentlessly, as he revealed to Kenzie at Madeline’s house last night. He saw more of his mother’s storied art collection on these walls as he rushed through the room, still following the feeling that was Kenzie--particularly, one of the pieces he’d long admired since he was a child. It was called Karer See, and it depicted a landscape of pink, navy and lavender precipices, rising above a dappled green-and-coppery forest and the white rocky shore of a blue lake in watercolors. It was a protected monument in Italy, and the painting was by a turn-of-the-century American named John Singer Sargent, who was far better known for his portraits, particularly one of Teddy Roosevelt. As a child Duncan remembered staring at it for hours, particularly drawn to its purply hills--I bet heaven looks like that, he remembered thinking. Like those hills. Now they drew him back into the memory of the dreams he’d been having as of late; the dream of Kenzie with wings, soothing his darkness away, the dreams in the ethereal other place that felt imperceptible to him outside those dreams, where Kenzie’s eyes whirled with golden galaxies and her clothing was made of strange geometries. Duncan walked quickly past the painting, his eyes skirting to it in the shadows, affectionately, like it was an old friend.

His feet continued to carry him beyond, through to the end of the room, and Duncan’s heart slammed into his ribs: he could really feel her now, knew she was very close, could feel the golden-blue thread running down to her, shortening with every step he took, his black Wyatt boots clicking in the silence and shadows of this part of the mansion, ringing in his ears. The golden, pulsing heart of her was close, so close--he marveled at it, seeing it and not seeing it, wondering how he could have ever missed it that first night, missed it in the days that led up to now, but then recalled how her headband with pointed stars had looked in the city lights that night--how Kenzie looked in the morning, in the sunlight, in his bedroom, in his bed, soon to become theirs. A halo. And this light--this is her halo. It’s not a halo like how I’ve always thought of one, though. This halo is the iridescence of her soul, and it calls out to me, through time. I would see it in the deepest darkness. I would see it even if every star in the universe burnt out into nothing. I’d see it. I would. I can quiet my mind, and in that quiet place, and I can always find her. I will always be able to see her there.

At the end of the room was a squared half-space cut away from the wall, and in the space were three doors--one led outside, through an unremarkable blank white door with a peephole, a door which Duncan knew well. It faced the backlot of the mansion and when he was a child a car would pick him up from that curb to take him to his private elementary school. The door to his right was a supply closet for the housekeeper--and the left door was an old-fashioned powder room, a golden plaque on it with laser-cut letters that told as much, with a elegant round sink, a vanity with an oval mirror, a blush-colored chaise lounge and a discreet toilet with a wood door, if he remembered correctly. It was rarely used, as this back parlor room was now rarely used--and therefore no one would suspect it to be occupied by any guests tonight.

But Kenzie’s in there, Duncan knew. And she’s been crying.

Duncan went to the door, and for a moment he didn’t speak, only achingly pressed his fingers against it--he could feel her emanating out from it with golden warmth, tinged with painful spears of distress. Duncan realized he’d felt these spears before, but not as consciously--that night she texted me and asked me to come to her apartment, that same night I told Mom about her, he realized. I could feel her tears all the way to her door. My heart had ached with them. It was as if his memory had been shrouded in a fine fog, and feeling her as he now could, many hidden aspects of it were now becoming clear. And now that he was here, now that his ear was pressed to the door, Duncan could hear her, so quiet as to be almost imperceptible to his ears, but with his mind he could hear her, finally hear her voice, and then he could hear the minute rustle of her tears, the quiet movements she made in the room behind the door.

Why is there so much darkness in people’s hearts? Her thoughts drifted into him, and he felt that she didn’t know he was there yet, lost in her sadness. Why can I feel it press on me so sharply now, feel it as though it were my own burden? Why is it so cutting, like a knife? Is it because we love each other so much? Has it opened my heart so much that I can feel pain as well, as much as beauty and joy, this way? Goddess, it fucking aches. The hate in his eyes. As if he resented my very existence, my reality. Resented his Fate, and wished he could begrudge me my own.

Oh, baby, what happened. Duncan knocked, softly, breath hitching. “Kenzie. Baby. It’s me.”

There was silence on the other side of the door for a moment and he could hear Kenzie sniffing now, her little voice sighing, and it made his body shudder with longing for her. He tried the knob; it was locked.

“Kenzie. Please let me in.”

There was another beat, and then he could hear her moving--moving to the door and turning the lock. She pulled it open and he moaned to see her tearstained face in the low golden light she’d switched on in the powder room; the glistening moisture on her cheeks. Her eyes (the damp cool of evening as the light fades to russet gold) fell into his and he reached for her, gripped her little wrist in aching fingers over the gold and diamond of the Cartier bracelet locked there, and gently pushed on the door so it fell open. Kenzie stood there weakly, her golden aura still intensely lovely, her sadness shrouded in angelic sweetness; her sadness is divine, as everything that is her is divine, her sorrow holy, and I would kiss it from her lips, drink it into me, take it from her and soothe her. Duncan shut the door behind them, turning the lock again. No eyes but mine, baby. He set down the water glass, half empty from spilling it as he ran, and macaron, now half-crushed, onto the vanity, gathering her into his arms, gathering the golden folds of her dress into his body, pressing his face down into the crook of her little collarbone against the gold braid of the necklace, the scent of the roses in her hair drifting into him, and he loved it so, loved the way she melted into him, the relief he felt wash over her to be inside his arms, the relief he pushed into her to have found her safe, to have found her, to have seen her and found her this way. She sighed, her head falling back, her eyes fluttering closed, and her mouth dipped open, pressing against the dripping gold of his jacket.

“Fuck, Kenzie, I was so scared--”

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry,” she was whispering and his mouth was rushing against hers, I can’t fucking not kiss you anymore, baby, I can’t be away from you anymore, please let me kiss you, please kiss me oh god I thought you were gone I thought you were hurt I thought you were lost and he was saying “Kenzie, I love you, I fucking love you, baby, I love you--” and she was moaning with an aching insistence into him, lifting her breasts into his fingers in the delicate boning of her bodice, her little arms drifting around his neck, her hair and the dip of her back so soft it brought tears into his eyes, her little tongue pressing against his suddenly, her head turning and reaching up to his fingers, her little hands flitting down over the crotch of his tightly tailored pants, kindling the blood back into his cock, reminding him of the ring again finally as it pressed needily into his hardness after his panicked forgetting, reminding him that he belonged to her and she belonged to him, and that this day has been such a long one to bear, jagged with emotion, that he longed for her as the sun longed for the moon during the longest day. Duncan was gasping against her, determined to find the source of her pain before he became utterly lost in her--he broke their kiss, looking down into her eyes, pressing her against the edge of the vanity’s mahogany table. They were half-lidded now, their dark green-gold shimmering with an insistent approval, an urging that was tinged with pain and kindled with need.

“Kenzie, what happened? Why are you crying? Why did you leave the stairs?”

He kept his voice soothing and low, watched the little trembling movements of her face, the shivering of her eyelashes, the tears hovering there, the dip of wetness on her lips from him, the dampness around her nose from crying. Her makeup hadn’t been mussed, though--Georgio had done his job immensely well. She looked down, and he saw her chin trembling now, too, fighting off more tears. He pulled a tissue from a box on the vanity, gently dabbing it under her eyes, soothing it on her cheeks, his other hand coming up to cup under her chin.

“It was your uncle.”

“What?” God, I’d completely forgotten he’d be here. He shouldn’t be, he’s too sick, but he’s so stubborn. He must be in a lot of pain tonight. Fuck, he must be in a terrible mood tonight.

“He’s here. He showed up a minute after you went to get me some water--” Kenzie glanced at the half-empty glass, reached for the macaron absently, staring down at it, avoiding his eyes now, trying to hide her hurt.

“From Momby,” he murmured, and she nodded, lip trembling again, bringing it up to her lips and biting into it, a tear falling from her eye as she nibbled at it, as if to absorb her mother’s strength through it.

“He--he saw me first. I still felt so weak, I felt like I could hardly stand. He recognized me right away. I sort of recognized him, I mean, I’d seen a picture of him before, and I felt that it was him, you know? How I can...do that.” She breathed in, shudderingly, and Duncan lowered his hand carefully to her thigh, the silence heavy, pressing into them. His cock was pressing into the front of his pants now, flushed with arousal again at her nearness, the terrible ache in him returned after the anxiety had pushed it back. Kenzie had turned her eyes up to him once more, her hair falling back, the very soft golden light in the solitude of the powder room glinting through her dress. It was so quiet now; his fear had stilled, his anxiety had gone entirely, and all he knew was that Kenzie was sad, that he wanted her with an ache that was utterly beyond words, and that the strange, chaotic energy of this evening was reaching a peak, the press of it having settled into his body. He realized vaguely that he hadn’t had a drink for hours and yet felt deeply drunk--drunk on you, my love, drunk with need for you.

“He came up to me and I could feel how much pain he was in right away--his face was pinched with pain, and he was trying to hide it in his body but I could feel it,” Kenzie had swallowed the rest of the cookie and was moving her hands out towards him, towards his chest, her fingers drifting against him. Fuck, yes, Kenzie, touch me, please, please, there’s nothing else but your touch. Duncan let his other hand drift up to her breast and Kenzie leaned into his fingers, her head dipping to the side as she spoke.

“He said “you’re a cunning little slut, aren’t you, well, you’re not getting into this family no matter how many times you fuck him,” and the pain he was in was so strong, Duncan, it was like I couldn’t even speak, couldn’t move, I could feel it like dark storm clouds--I felt frozen around him, he felt dark, I wanted to run away from him but he grabbed onto me here--” she held up her wrist and Duncan reached for it with achingly delicate fingers, soothing along her skin where he could almost feel the hot memory of his uncle’s anger. How dare you, Bill. How fucking dare you touch her. I could fucking kill you. “--and he said I bet you had something to do with Claire Underwood telling him about all that, didn’t you, I bet you’re the one who told him to go to Claire--” “Oh, fuck, baby, no, fuck--” Duncan was pressing against her now, pressing her into the vanity’s edge, and he felt the anger and need in him crash against him again, felt the ring pressing with insistence into his groin, could feel the trembling in her limbs expanding now, could feel the sadness in her dissipating into her own desire, her thoughts beginning to pulse with a deeper frustration, one for him. I want you, he heard it drift through him, into the core of him. Fuck, Duncan, I want you now.

“Who fucking cares what he thinks about anything, Kenzie--” his mouth was hovering just above hers, his arms tight around her, tightening more, desperate to have her as close as she could possibly be, the halo of gold hovering around her in his eyesight now. “He’s dying and he resents our happiness and you know that, he resents you because you’re so fucking lovely and so good, and so much more than he ever was, could ever be--” and Kenzie was breathing harshly against him now, fighting to hold onto her composure, he could feel it, feel her need to hold out for just a moment longer, her skin damp and warm and so soft under his fingers, her smell exquisitely sweet with an edge of wildness now, the Bacchanalian energy of the Gala beyond having finally reached them here in this secret corner, and it seemed to be flooding the powder room, stoking his cock. His hands fell down to cup around her ass and Kenzie’s words hitched, she moaned into the edge of his jaw, “he hated me, baby--ha-hated me, hated, and it filled me with such sorrow for him, ohhh, Duncan, he hated my light, he wanted to crush it, so I ran away from him, I found this room, and Dunny, I felt you here, I felt that this space used to be yours, is that right, was it? Dunny--”

“Mhmmm, yes, Kenzie, it was--it was my playroom when I was little, it was mine for a long time, Kenzie, oh my Kenzie,” and his hands were falling further down to dip her ass apart, to spread her achingly from the plug he knew was still nestled inside her, and he opened his mouth against hers, hovering a breath away from kissing her, and he felt, with a deep, overwhelming drift of satisfaction, her own mouth open under him, the supplication in her in this moment, the aching breadth of the pause where their lips anticipated and contemplated each other, could suddenly sense the musk of her climb higher, sense her sharp need for him. The openness that had come upon her felt like it would stop his heart; Duncan knew, suddenly, that she would let him do anything he wished to her, let him worship her by any means in this room, in this moment charged with the intensity of this night, and that the anger she had felt from Bill Shepherd had only kindled in her, ultimately, the desire to love him even more, if she possibly could, had solidified and crystallized her devotion, and therefore Bill had failed, failed utterly in his goal to hurt her acutely. The hurt in her was already melting away, already obsolete in the face of their desire for each other now, and her trust burst over Duncan like the soothing, stinging slap of a cascade of clear water. I would die for you, Duncan Shepherd. I would die a thousand deaths. There are no words for my devotion. As I know you are devoted to me with all of your soul, know that my devotion too is undying. There is nothing that can tear us asunder, not truly. Now, beloved: worship me with your body.

Duncan’s fingers drifted down, down through the dip between her ass, finding the jeweled end of the plug under the silky gold; Kenzie gasped into his mouth and her breath was sweet with chocolate, her eyes glowing with the depth of her need, the tears still trapped there now tears of her devotion for him, and his hand pressed, hard, insistent, against it, pressing the plug harshly into her, her body rocking up from the edge of the vanity flush against him. His other hand came up, drifting over her collarbones, up to the slender, delicate beauty of her throat, fingers trailing over the gold braid (but I’m imagining your rose choker there, so achingly beautiful, my beloved) and he gripped her there, gentle at first, then with gathering strength, pulling her flush against him, her legs now spreading on either side of his thigh, one of them dipping, white and achingly beautiful, from the slit in the cascade of the golden gown she wore, the space between her thighs hot through the leg of his pants, his crotch heavy with hardness against her abdomen, one hand driving the plug roughly into her, the other squeezing into her throat, her mouth open under his.

“Fuck me, Prince,” Kenzie whispered, her breath gasping under his hand. Duncan tightened it again. She cried out, her voice needling into him; he closed his eyes, gasped against her, his lips dipping up to her nose, down to the crook of her chin. Her slender, beautiful hands found the button of his pants, finally, Kenzie, fuuuuck, fuck me, fucking finally, and she was working the opening there apart, fingers finding the silicone edge of the ring, the absolute torment that had become his erection, stoked back and forth for hours now between the throes of hardness and arousal. She pulled it out, her touch a wild distress to him, making him groan beyond his ability to control, and he looked down as she did at his cock--it was pink with hardness, straining, jumping with a shivering vibration against her palm cupped along its underside. It needed her, and nothing else would suffice. Please, help me, his thought leaked through him, and he saw that she heard him with acute clarity from the blush on her cheeks. Only you can ease my suffering, Mackenzie Stone.

Kenzie kept her palm flush against his cock, her eyes finding his, locking in his gaze, and she dipped her fingers up between her legs, up under the slit of the dress, finding the waistband of her panties and leaning away from the edge of the vanity--she pulled them down and as they fell around her ankles she lifted her feet out of them, pushing them away with the edge of one heel. She spread her thighs apart now, the dress hitching a little up her hips from the slit, shimmering, exposing her to the dip of her leg turning into her abdomen, but still shrouding her cunt, and Duncan demandingly urged his hand against the plug inside her ass again through the supple fabric--the moan that fell from her lips drifted in a long, loud cadence, extending through the moment, spreading with a golden insistence. Kenzie didn’t speak again, only slid up onto the vanity’s mahogany surface now, his hand lifting at her ass to steady her there, and then using her palm to guide his thick, constricted cock to the dip between her legs, and her eyes said I’m going to beg you now, beloved, I want to beg you.

“Please fuck me,” she whined into him, her eyes liquid with color, and Duncan heard the moan that escaped him, an involuntary one he’d never have been able to stave off, a cry that erupted from the center of his soul. He drove himself into her, and they gasped into the crevice of each other’s lips, her little tongue pressing flush into his, her need exquisite, wanton, and abject. Duncan felt lost in it--her trust was absolute here, and it shattered at his soul. He kept his fingers pressed tightly at her throat, the golden necklace indenting into his palm as he carefully hitched at her dress, riding it up higher towards her hips, pressing her thighs apart, and dipping his thumb down to her clit, down to her cunt to feel at her wetness to be sure she was ready, before he drove his cock further into her, utterly, until he was buried inside her, and he went to her ear and whispered “Kenzie, I have been waiting to fucking fuck you, and now I’m going to do it for as long as I want to, and you’re mine, aren’t you, baby, aren’t you, you’re my angel baby who needs my cock, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, Dunny, yes, fuck me, fuck, ahh, you’re so fucking hard, unng, please, please, I need you, I need your cock, neeeeed you--”

He was tapping his fingers against the plug now, harsh little snaps that made her body keen, made her eyes flutter rapidly, made her breath shudder out as he drove in and out of her, his eyes dipping down to look at the spread lips of her labia, the glistening moisture of her arousal, the wetness and painful hardness of his thick cock as he fucked her, the ring causing blood to course through his length again and again, sending his mind into a shivering spiral of lust that urged him on, harder, harder, and he was dragging her against him, their bodies so flush that he lost his understanding of where they ended, as he had before, a loss so exquisite to him he already felt sorrow for the moment he knew they’d be separated again, her little face pressed into the crook of his neck, her fingers gripping at his jacket with tight fingers, her mouth a round, supple fruit on his skin, and her keening, tiny sounds sending undulations of relief into him, shudderingly cool, achingly hot.

“Finally, finally, fuck, Kenzie, I thought I would fucking die from not being able to fuck you--” their mouths were distressing into each other, his hand still possessive at her throat, and he wanted to speak to her aloud, wanted her to hear him with her ears rather than her thoughts, wanted to speak, needed to tell her as well as he could with words, “I thought I’d go insane from it, god, like your hand was around me all day, like your lips were on me there, I’ve been lost in thoughts of you, lost in my need for you--”

“I wanna suck your cock, baby,” she was whispering into him now, and Duncan moaned, the tiny softness of her in his arms, under his hand, around his length, making him shake. “Please, baby, please let me suck on your beautiful cock, it’s what I want. Make me suck it.” Blood surged into his length again, buried inside her, and he gasped, sucking air through his teeth, her eyes (golden starlight in a galaxy of green) hovering at his cheeks, her little face imploring him, beyond irresistible. I’m high on you, drunk on you, you are the headiest wine, the strongest weed, a drug beyond the sweetest of any drug on earth, my lovely beloved, my exquisite Princess, the constant kindling of my heart to the highest of all pleasure. He was pulling out of her, lost for a moment in the disappointment of his emptiness, then Kenzie was sliding off the vanity to the floor, sliding to her knees before him in the gold dress, the roses in her hair cascading with sweet scent, her little fingers gripping at him, wet with the arousal from inside her, dipping her mouth suddenly, quickly against the head of his cock and sucking lightly, her tongue fluttering on the underside against the delicate veins there, and the roses in her hair were shuddering at her attentions to him, they were shivering with her ache, and Duncan was moaning again, his hands gripping the sides of her head and driving her down onto him, her mind urging him on, yes, baby, yes, like that, make me suck you this way, I know you keep a wild god inside you and he pulses with lust, he wants to prostrate me, I long to be prostrated in this moment, I long for his wild needs, so make me, make me--and he was gripping her under her chin, gripping his long fingers under her jaw so his thumb pressed under her ear on one side of her face, and his index finger pressed to the other, and he was fucking her mouth with long, steady motion, and Kenzie’s eyes fluttered closed and she choked on him, her little throat constricting, but in her mind she was saying do not stop, don’t stop Duncan, don’t stop, fuck me, fucking fuck me, fuck your Princess, my mouth is for you--and so he did, continued to fuck her little mouth, his hardness filling her, drool sliding from her chin as she hooked her fingers around his thighs, clutching onto him.

“I’m not gonna come in your mouth, baby,” he murmured down to her, hearing the commanding edge there, knowing it was what she wanted him to say, knowing she wanted demands from him, because Duncan could feel the rushing in his ears, falling down his body, the threat of his release, and he was desperate to fuck her ass, fuck her ass that had been made caged for him for hours, fuck her ass that had had the plug hidden there, a secret for his pleasure, waiting for him. “It’s time to take your plug out now, and I’m gonna fuck your ass as hard as I want to, angel. Okay?” He was pulling out of her, his fingers still gripping along her jaw, and Kenzie was gasping, her eyes drifting open and closed, spittle leaking around her lower lip, her head crooked to the side as if she were about to drift into sleep, her little breasts heaving for air.

“Okay, baby,” she was moaning, and he was dipping down, his tongue lapping up the spit on her chin, lips bruising into hers, and her arms drifted up around his neck and he was pulling her up to her feet, steadying her, kissing her again and again, tasting at her need which hovered around her like a patina, knowing his own was as strong, loving the feeling of their mingling desires, loving that he knew how much she wanted him to command her this time, loving that he could give her what she was asking for, loving her radiant trust, lost in its effulgence. He pressed her back against the vanity again, his hands pressing harshly along her arms, along the golden waist of her gown, tasting her still, following the thrill of her tongue and her sighs, then he drifted himself away from her mouth with all the resolve he could muster, turned her hips so she faced the mirror, and looked into her eyes there. Kenzie’s breath was shallow, her eyes glowing with that unearthly gold, and she was nodding to him, her mouth dipped open. Fuck my ass, baby.

Duncan crouched, grasped the long hem of her gown, and straightened, pulling the dress in endless gathers of gold lame, dipping them up over her ass, holding them steady at her waist in his fist, tightly. His cock was pressing, utterly stiff and straining with painful hardness, against the dip between her ass cheeks now, and he moved back a little to see the jeweled end of the plug glittering up at him--around it, her ass was red with its attention, raw with its pressure from hours of its pressing on her, and Duncan groaned, feeling his cock jump up at the sight of it. Fuck. Angel. Spread for me. Spread your legs for me. Kenzie moved her thighs apart as he gripped the folds of her dress carefully at her back, and Duncan watched the plug bob inside her, shiver as her ass clenched on it. Time for me to fuck you in your tight little ass, Princess Kenzie.

He drifted his long fingers down to the jewel, then Duncan whispered “Push out, baby,” and Kenzie nodded, her golden gaze shivering on him in the vanity’s oval mirror--he pulled at the jeweled end, insistent, as he felt her ass push outwards, and Kenzie moaned, moaned so that Duncan fought the urge to come in that very moment, sucked his resolve in with a cold hand, because her moan was piteous and lit with low pain, deep pleasure, and overwhelming rapture for him.

“Fuck, I’m so empty now, fuck, I need you, Dunny,” her words were rushing out into her moan, her hands clutching at the edges of the vanity, and Duncan dropped the plug to the floor, unceremoniously, its use now at an end for their devotions in this moment, and he brushed her hair to the side, over her shoulder, loathe to muss it, grasping her neck (warm, shivering) in hot, insistent fingers, and he said “you’re mine, Kenzie, and I am infinitely blessed,” and he drove himself, adamant and inexorable, inside the tight hollow of her, and Kenzie cried out in a voice that sent a patterned madness into his mind, like the holy geometries of their divine dreams.

She was crying out again now, in a stream of sound, almost sobbing, as he drove in and out of her achingly sensitive ass, teased for him as it had been, and his cock was so hard with the pressure of the ring that he felt his eyes rolling back, his mouth open and his tongue pressing out against his lips, the entirety of the sensation of her simply too much to bear. “Fuck my little ass, baby, fuck it hard, fuck me good, baby, fuck me, harder, fucking harder, make me fucking scr-eee-am---” Kenzie voice bled out as he lowered himself into a studied concentration, pushing her into the vanity’s edge roughly, his thighs smacking into the bottom of her ass as he plunged himself into her, her tone lifting into an ecstatic abandon as he stretched her. Her asshole was swollen, pinched with redness, and his cock was rosy with strain and the veins of him stood out starkly as he watched himself slide into her, then out, then back, concentrating all his effort on fucking her, his hand dipping down between the lips of her cunt and his index finger sliding with conviction into the top of her clit, steadying there with a careful pressure, dipping down then holding, dipping back up, beginning a lazy motion that he knew was sending sharp shocks of arousal through her groin there, because now he could see it in her mind, see the shape of her orgasm like the golden sphere of her soul that he had seen before, the one he had run towards.

“Fucking you, Kenzie, is the greatest pleasure I’ve ever felt--or will ever feel,” he dipped down to her ear, murmuring clearly into it, leaning over her, staring into her eyes as he worked with slow, steady movements into her ass, against her clit. “There are no words for your beauty, no description for your loveliness, and nothing I can say will ever truly give justice to the depth of my love for you, only you, only you, Kenzie, forever--” and she was crying out again, unable to speak, her mouth dipped up in an ecstatic expression, her eyes in his, then rolling up, overwhelmed, and she was leaning back to receive his cock, leaning back from the edge of the vanity so he was buried in her, their bodies in tandem, rocking back and forth. Her dress had begun to slip from his hand and he gripped it tightly again, rebounding into her, reconcentrating his fingers on her clit and lifting her body up into his with steady hands, watching her little fingers clenching against his arm where she clutched at him as he held her, and he could see the way her thighs had begun to shudder, a sure sign of her orgasm rushing close by--your beautiful curvy thighs begin to shake, then the rest of your body, your beautiful body, I love it so, your beauty calms every fear in my heart, my Kenzie, I adore you, I worship you, I love you, I always will--

“Dunny--fucking FUCK--your cock is fucking heaven, you’re heaven--Dunnyyyyy--” she was crying out his name in a long wail, his mouth open achingly on her jaw, sucking, his tongue pressing into her wildly sweet skin there, his hands holding her little body flush to him as he continued to fuck her taut, diminutive asshole, not allowing himself to falter in his ministrations despite the intoxicating sound of her voice, stretching out into a keening lament that made his skin break out immediately into sweat, the sound of her almost otherworldly, like the voice of ecstasy from another world, and it was beautiful to him beyond all description, the sound of her this way. Eventually, Kenzie quieted to low, keening whimpers, and her arm lifted to the side of his hair and his ear as he continued to work at her ass and her clit with his fingers, down the angular stubble of his jaw, her middle and index fingers dipping into his mouth (suck baby, suck on me, suck on my neck and my fingers and fuck my little ass and come for me, come now, okay, it’s time for you to fucking come for me--), his teeth pressing gently into the pads of them as he sucked insistently at her, his own moans compounding now that she had gone still--he could feel her clit twinging under his touch from her comedown, and it stirred his release lower, lower, the voracious orgasm he’d been holding since yesterday now prickling again in earnest behind his hips, her little sounds coaxing him, the tightness of her unbearable around his painful hardness, her mouth still open and her head still thrown back, eyes closed at the memory of the starbursts under her eyelids, oh fuck, oh fucking god, god this is going to--this is--

Duncan’s hand came up to Kenzie’s throat as he felt the burning hot spurt of his come release into her ass, and he was groaning a wordless entreaty for her into her ear and her cheek, felt it continue on and on for what felt like an eternity, and for awhile he lost himself in her, lost himself entirely to their surroundings, and could only feel her, could only feel the flushed heat of her skin, the silky fall of her dress, could only smell the rose of her, could only hear her little moaning, aching sounds, could only imagine her, could only remember her, as if all other realities had ceased and they were drifting in darkness. He was gasping into her, clutching her, feeling as though he were on the verge of sobbing, on the edge of bursting into tears so earnest and true that perhaps, if he did, they would never cease, only continue on until he was utterly empty of tears.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby, you’re okay, fuck, baby, oh my fucking god,” Kenzie was murmuring as he brought her back down to earth, still holding her against him, his cock sliding out of her--he saw there was a little blood along the topside of his length, and he moaned into her, still holding her dress gathered in his hand, examining her backside, wincing in concern--Kenzie’s ass was deeply pink, her asshole red with worry. “Fuck, baby, are you okay? Fuck, did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine, it’s okay, baby,” Kenzie was leaning over the vanity, gripping a tissue, bending her arm back to press it against her ass--she brought the tissue around to gaze at it, frowning a little at the blood. “It’s okay, it’s just a little, I think it’s just chafing, god, you were so fucking hard--” with this Kenzie groaned a little, a laugh intercepting it, and she wiggled her ass at him, grinning in post-orgasmic glee. “Fuck, Duncan, I loved that. You felt so fucking good, baby, I love your thick cock fucking my ass so hard, god, being so bossy with me, I feel so fucking good now--”

Duncan gripped at her hips, his mouth coming down her cheek, lips open, and closed his eyes against her, letting his eyelashes brush on her skin--Kenzie sighed, her knees dipping her down.

“God, Kenzie, I’d been holding that orgasm for what felt like a year, fuck, you made me come so hard, angel.” He stepped back from her, gently letting go of her dress, letting it fall down her backside, covering the rawness he’d left there, thinking of his come now deep inside her--he glanced to the floor where he’d discarded the plug, then leaned and picked it up, gripping the jeweled end in his hand. Kenzie turned to him, raising her eyebrows, all residue of her tears now gone. Her face was glowing, radiant--it seemed to be cast in a golden sheen, though he could see hints of tiredness around her eyes.

“Come here, baby,” she whispered, and grasped his empty hand, leading him to the sink, turning on the faucet and running it until it was hot, lathering soap on her hands from a dispenser there, then gently pulling him closer to the edge, dipping her hands along his length. Duncan shivered, moaned with the terrible sensitivity prickling there now as she washed him gently, the ring still pushed at the base of him, his cock still partially stiff with its pressure. Duncan brought his hands down to brush against hers in the stream, rinsing her plug under the hot water, and she was lathering soap along its bulbous head too, cleaning it carefully--he turned his head to gaze at her as he touched her, as her fingers fell against his, and the loveliness of her smile as she glanced at him made him want to weep again. Duncan pulled his hands away, reluctantly, grasped a mauve-colored hand towel hanging nearby, drying his hands--Kenzie shut the water off and he passed the towel to her gently, dipping it around her plug and her hands, then she pressed the plug into his palm and took the towel, dipping her head down, bringing her fingers against the base of his cock.

“I’m going to take the ring off now, baby, okay?”

“Okay, baby.” He stood very still, lost in the golden shift of her gaze. My Persephone. Queen of roses. Too beautiful for words. Kenzie’s little fingers gripped the silicone carefully, firmly--then she pulled gently at it, and Duncan bit his lip, staving off his cry at the intensity of her touch as she slid the ring off him, finally releasing his cock from the immense pressure of it. He breathed out carefully through his mouth, then waited, hopefully, for Kenzie to do what he was thinking towards her--she smiled at him, straightening, then grasped his softening cock, dipping it back into his tight briefs, then zipping and buttoning his pants, tucking his collared shirt carefully back in place.

“There, my Prince,” she whispered. “Like nothing ever happened. None of them will ever know. Our secret to keep. Just for us.”

The golden light was all around her, the shimmer of her dress seeming to draw it in; her tawny-gold hair fell around her cheeks, barely a residue of sweat there to show the ecstasy he knew she had felt; for he’d been inside her, inside her thoughts, had felt the immensity of her release, as he knew he could now. Duncan’s fingers ran over the protruding head of the plug, carefully, hesitating, still longing for her in ways he couldn’t name.

“Kenzie, can I--can I put this back inside you, baby? I want to--I want to keep my come inside you for awhile. I want to keep our secret for awhile…” He could feel his cheeks flushing, feel the neediness in his voice, but she was smiling again, her cheeks flushing too, an obvious delight in her eyes now.

“That’s fucking sexy, baby. Yes, Prince Duncan,” and she was stepping flush against him, her mouth opening towards his face, his body bursting into deep, coursing flames from the look in her eyes. “Put it back inside me.”

Kenzie turned to look into the little mirror over the sink, gripping the edge of it, gazing at him expectantly. Do it, and let’s go back to this party. I’ll have your come held there inside me the whole time. You fucked me hard and we both came so hard and our ecstasy will bleed into the night, love--I’m yours, Duncan, my body is yours as my soul is. Just a little longer, then we can sleep in each other’s arms all night, and when the day comes, we’ll go off to the woods together to be alone and learn more of each other’s secrets. We’ll fuck under the stars, under the trees, in the long grass, among the flowers.

Duncan lowered his arm, gripping at the train and the flowing skirt of her gown, gathering them once more in his fingers, pressing them together in his fist, exposing her backside again--he whimpered at the redness still there, but there was no more blood. It must have just been chafing, like you said, baby, let me know if this hurts you and I’ll stop. Kenzie shook her head, urging him on. I’m fine, baby, put it inside me where it belongs. Duncan could see a vague residue around the pucker of her asshole, the cloudy white of his come dripping out of her--with a twinge of need he thought no, that stays inside her, I want it inside her, and he brought the plug up to the dampness gathering there, holding the gathers of her dress steady in his grip, and then he pushed it back inside her--Kenzie gasped a little, gripping the sink, but was nodding--”yes, Dunny, yes,” and then it was back inside her, the jewel winking up at him, and he let go of her skirts, leaned down to where he panties had been discarded and kneeled to her.

Kenzie turned to him, bringing her hands down to his shoulders, and he pushed the skirts aside, exposing her golden platform heels--Kenzie held onto him as she stepped into her panties and Duncan pulled them up her slender calves and curvy, feminine thighs under the dress, pressing his chin into her stomach as he fixed the waistband on her hips. There. All done. He lingered there for a moment, staring up at her--her hands came to his cheek, fingers drifting at his stubble, and into his hair, her touch infinitely gentle, and her smile was serene, utterly contented. In its cocoon he knew he was loved--loved with such intensely earnest, complete love that he felt tears seeping back into the corners of his eyes.

“I’m ready to go back, baby,” Kenzie said, and he stood, nodding, dipping his fingers at his eyes, wiping the threat of tears away. She leaned up to kiss him; he brought his face down to her, his hand twining around her fingers, imagining the golden-blue thread he’d seen as he ran to where he saw the golden sphere that was her, his lips shivering against her. “Kenzie, I love you,” he whispered. Kenzie didn’t speak, and she didn’t need to--he knew what she was saying in her mind, in the golden bursts around her heart, the radiance in her eyes, the roses in her hair. And I love you. Now, long ago, and forever.

Kenzie went to the sink where they’d left his silicone ring, grasping it and placing it inside her golden clutch, snapping the opening closed. As they walked out of the bathroom, Duncan glanced back at it, at its glow of light now diminished by her absence--just a regular bathroom now, he thought. The golden glow was all her. Everything is her. He flipped the light switch, bathing the powder room in darkness, and Kenzie was the one who pulled him back to the Gala, through the room that was once his playroom, the gold and diamond of the bracelets at their wrists glinting, their hands tightly clasped in the shadows.

------

A few minutes later Kenzie was ordering a glass of chardonnay from the bartender near the tables Duncan had glimpsed earlier, drinking it in one fell swoop that made Duncan laugh, and immediately asking for another. The bartender, a tall, handsome man with henna-colored skin in a saffron-yellow Oxford shirt and a silk gold tie, had raised his eyebrows at her and poured her another, this one full to the brim.

“Duckenzie forever,” he said, and pushed it toward her, his smile shy. Duncan and Kenzie had looked at each other in disbelief, both laughing a little. “Seriously, though, you two are like--you are glowing,” the bartender continued. “Thanks for coming over here. I can’t drink tonight, but now I feel drunk. Love your Instagrams.” Duncan had ordered an old-fashioned (like that first night, Kenzie had thought, and Kenzie had smiled at him), and Kenzie had thanked the man sweetly, her cheeks flushed with the wine now. Duncan slipped a $100 bill into his tip jar. God, I feel so good now, he thought. Time to spread that around. They’d run into Erik and Momby, sitting together on a low couch in a side-parlor, laughing with each other in uproarious delight, Momby telling him a story about a time she’d fallen into a pool with a full tray of tropical cocktails during a brief waitressing stint in the Bahamas in her early 20’s. Madeline had gripped Kenzie’s hand, looking into her face as Kenzie settled down onto the armrest beside her mother--when she saw the serene happiness there, she nodded and let go. Whatever had happened before, all was right now. Madeline had looked into Duncan’s eyes, and he’d nodded to her, smiling.

“That smile,” Momby had tsked, and Erik dipped his chin into a perfectly-manicured hand, looking on at all of them, grinning, his eyes now hazy with drunkenness. “With that smile you could stab me in the heart and I’d thank you.”

Kenzie’s gaze had dipped above them, her eyes intent on yet another mural printed for the Gala along the white wall behind them. ”I’ve never seen this one before,” Kenzie murmured, reaching for Duncan’s hand, pulling him close. My pretty baby. My Kenzie. “What’s it called?” The painting depicted on the laser-printed mural was a golden-haired maiden, completely naked, her back turned down, the angle from heaven above, riding on a midnight-blue stallion with huge wings--below them were scattered clouds of night and a landscape spread with some ancient monument. “It’s so lovely.”

“It’s called Dream Idyll,” Duncan murmured to her, his eyes on her face. He could feel Madeline and Erik watching them. “It’s by Edward Robert Hughes. It looks like you.” Kenzie snorted at him. “Yep, there’s me, in my birthday suit. I do wish I had a flying horse, though.”

“You’ll have horses soon enough, Princess Kenzie.”

“Oh, she will, will she?” Madeline smiled at him, intrigued.

Duncan and Kenzie looked at each other. Momby knows about you taking over the company, but I don’t think Erik knows, does he? Kenzie thought to him. Duncan shook his head.

“It’s a secret, is it?” Erik cooed, taking a sip of the vodka tonic in his hand.

“For now, yeah, I think so,” Duncan replied. “We’re still figuring it out.”

“I’m sure you two have lots of secrets you haven’t told anyone,” Erik went on, batting his long rhinestoned eyelashes. “I’m sure you have delicious, delightful secrets. Just look at you. A darkly handsome prince and a radiant golden princess. Duncan, you’ve opened like a flower now that you have this angel in your life. I just adore you two. You’re like two stars that fell out of the sky. I’d claw someone’s eyes out to hear what it’s like in the bedroom.”

Duncan rolled his eyes at the last bit, but saw Kenzie smile into her hand. Madeline was laughing into her glass of red wine, her snort causing a film of bubbles on its surface. Like mother, like daughter.

“Baby, let’s get some air,” he murmured down into Kenzie’s ear, and she let him help her up, left her train to fan out behind her. He waved a little to Madeline and Erik. “We’ll see you later on, maybe?”

“I think I’m getting all partied out,” Madeline replied. “I’m a crusty old witch and I’ve successfully managed to avoid Annette tonight. I’d like to keep it that way. Duncan, can I enlist your help to get that wonderful man to drive me home?”

“Of course, Madeline,” Duncan pulled his phone out of his pocket as Kenzie’s hand clutched around the crook of his arm, her head resting against the velvet arm of his blazer. He sent a text out to Samuel; Samuel, as usual, replied almost immediately. The best. “He says he’ll be waiting on the curb in two minutes, Ms. Stone.”

Madeline crowed, delighted, drinking off the rest of her wine. “Erik, darling, wanna come kick it at my house like two broken down old hags?”

“Speak for yourself, honey,” Erik replied, but he was smiling. “However--I’d love to. Annette’s usual gang of social frou-frous, alas, leaves me dry as a bone these days. Let’s break out the tequila and talk about old flings all night. My darling angelic moon babies in love--adieu.” Erik extended a hand towards Duncan and Kenzie, and Kenzie’s radiant smile to him lit a fire under Duncan’s heart. Your crown of flowers on our wedding day, a crown for the goddess of spring, he thought, his mind drifting. I wonder what your dress will look like. It doesn’t matter what you wear, though. You always look like a fucking angel. Kenzie was turning back to kiss her mother’s cheek--Duncan went to Madeline too, and kissed the opposite one. Madeline laughed, pursing her lips and looking heavenward.

“I do believe, my dear Madeline, that it doesn’t get much better than that,” Erik raised his drink to them with finality.

“Did you know Duncan wants to commission a painting of us, Momby,” Kenzie was murmuring down her to her mother, her face bathed in the low mood lights of the room, the blue cast of the mural above her reflecting on her gold-rose hair as Duncan watched her. “How romantic is that?”

“My dearest Mackenzie,” her mother clasped her hand, stared at her over the rim of her squarish black-rimmed glasses. “You suddenly find yourself immersed in a fairy tale, and my advice to you is, enjoy every moment of it. Bask in it. Drink it down like it’s wine.”

“Kenzie and I going away for a few days, Madeline,” Duncan said, eyeing Madeline, watching for disapproval warily. “We have a cabin by a lake in rural Maryland--we’re trying to keep the trip discreet. We’ll have our phones, but...we’d like to go off the grid for a few days, so we won’t be checking them regularly. I need to get away from Annette for a few days--”

“We both do,” Kenzie murmured. “Momby, we need to get away from...everything.”

“I understand, Kenzie Lou.” Madeline’s face was serious, but calm, sobering up for them. “You don’t need to explain. Just call me when you get back, okay? We can invite Claire and make tacos and margaritas. You too, baby,” Madeline said, turning to Erik, who fluttered his eyelashes at her.

“Thank you, Madeline.” Duncan’s heart felt tight again, words insufficient for his gratitude.

“Duncan. Don’t forget what I said to you last night, sweetpea. I love you very much, and your worth is not in your name, nor with your wealth, but what you do with it. I’ll see you soon.” Madeline’s hand came up against his cheek, and Duncan’s heart clenched. Kenzie, you were blessed with the most wonderful of mothers. It’s no wonder you are so divine. Demeter, who went to Zeus himself to have her daughter Persephone back--who made the earth barren with her loss. A mother who would do anything for her daughter--like Madeline Stone. What a fucking woman.

Kenzie kissed her mother’s cheek again, whispered “I love you to the moon and back, Momby,” and rose with Duncan, blowing kisses behind her to both Madeline and Erik. Divine, Duncan thought, her hand in the crook of his arm. Divine kisses, floating across the room like shooting stars.

------

Ten minutes later they were on the south side of the house, on the back-facing patio balcony of Annette Shepherd’s Colonial mansion. There were serving people dressed as various Pre-Raphaelite muses passing around hors d'oeuvres here (the Lady of Shalott walked up to them in long white robes and an auburn wig, holding a tray of mushroom tartlets which she held out to them--she blushed, clearly recognizing them, and Duncan thanked her, taking two and handing one to Kenzie, who ate it in one bite as she smiled at the woman--who then drifted away from them with some reluctance), and there were scores of guests in the balmy night air, milling around with drinks, winding down from the speeches for the Foundation--we were fucking in the bathroom during that, Duncan thought, relieved. I’m sure Annette tried to find me, and thankfully, she failed.

Neither Annette nor Bill were anywhere to be seen here, either. Or Marissa Montague. Or Gretchen Friedrichs. It’s like the night calmed for us, like the moon (still hovering above them, a white peach of delectable enchantment) ushered them all away--like it’s looking after us, my Kenzie and me. Down a set of marble steps was a decorative walking garden with stone pathways surrounded by creeping thyme and irish moss, with a four-tier fountain in the center, in tandem with Annette’s modern sensibilities. Some of the guests (most of which Duncan recognized--a veritable who’s-who of politicians and notables from every artistic field he could think of) seemed to notice them, but somehow no one approached them--Duncan doubted it was shyness. It seemed to be something else, almost like a force-field around them, protecting them from too much attention. Whatever. I’ll take it. As long as people leave us alone.

Along the sides of the French doors that had led them outside were two more huge murals, covering the windows on this side of the mansion, each one with the Shepherd Unlimited logo along the top and the same Gala text as the banners at the entrance--on one side was Robert-Hughes’ wistful Day, a circle of flowers in her red hair, and on the other, his more serene Night, sometimes called Star of Heaven--her hair full of starbursts, like flares of blue and white flame. Kenzie had turned, taking little sips of chardonnay, to gaze up at them, and he saw the adoring admiration in her eyes. He stared at her, drifting a hand against the wall, leaning there, caught up in her--golden princess from the stars. Protecting me, healing me, healing others. Who knows what else she can do. I feel acutely that we’re just beginning to find out what she’s capable of...and what I’m capable of, for that matter. He thought of the plug still inside her, holding his release there, and shivered. Mine. My golden angel.

Eventually, Kenzie noticed him staring.

“Don’t tell me, they look like me,” she rolled her eyes at him, making a face, and he laughed a little, sipping his bourbon. Bourbon will always remind me of the first night--though I’ll never forget it anyway. He leaned back on the Day mural, his head beginning to feel hazy--he’d barely had any of the bourbon, but he felt weak with his post-orgasm, with the stresses of this damn Gala--Marissa, Gretchen, Kenzie’s disappearance, the strangeness of what had happened to him near the water table. And with the stresses of yesterday--the shaking certainty in me that I was nothing and no one anymore. I don’t feel that way now; but the fear was enough to exhaust my soul. It was enough to make me long to escape with her.

He hesitated--he could tell Kenzie knew he was thinking, and she regarded him, patiently. “It looks like she’s whispering in your ear,” she said, twining a golden hair around her finger, the Cartier bracelet’s diamonds glittering on her wrist, the smooth incline of her leg dipping beautifully from the slit in the dress, and then Kenzie was opening her clutch and pulling her phone out, snapping a photo of him. He smiled at her, unbothered, pressing affection out towards her. She walked casually to the other wall where Star of Heaven was spread, smiling down at her phone, typing a caption on the photo, posting it. He turned toward her as the two men he’d seen smoking earlier came through the French doors--oddly, they ignored Duncan and Kenzie, as if they didn’t see them. Kenzie didn’t seem to notice, but looked up a moment later from her phone at him. Duncan moved past the doors to her, leaving his bourbon glass on a nearby cart, hands coming down to her waist, pressing her back into the mural of the serene woman with a crown of stars.

“I wish I could give you a crown of stars like that,” Duncan whispered, his eyes drifting up the mural, then back down into hers. The moon was right above them now--it stared down on him, quietly listening to them, watching them, watching over us. Moon children in love. Kenzie held her wine glass up to her lips, her eyes staring back at him mischievously over the rim, and he stepped back, lifting his own phone to steal a picture of her, her eyes drifting to the side to look at the huge face beside her. Star of heaven @kenzielouwho. He saw the one she’d posted of him come up right after it on his feed--Night breezes seem to whisper I love you @duncanshepherd.

“Kenzie,” he said, tucking his phone away. “Something happened when I went to get you the water. Something...strange. Really strange.”

Kenzie looked at him then with contemplation, and he knew deeply that she had something of her own to tell him--something she hadn’t told him before. She set her wine glass at her feet as he continued.

“I ran into Gretchen Friedrichs, and she cornered me, was trying to blackmail me--the usual with her--and I knew I needed to get to the water, and she was blocking it. I was crazy with it for a minute, with frustration, then suddenly, I was there, I was at the water table. But I hadn’t moved. I had...I dunno. I teleported to the fucking water table. Somehow. I moved--through--I don’t know. Time. Space. I moved without moving.”

“Dunny,” Kenzie said, and her voice was very small, her hands reaching up to the lapels of his jacket, pulling him close. “Yesterday, I--I could feel your sadness and your pain. I mean, I don’t mean I suspected it--I mean I felt it. I felt the depth of it. It pressed down onto me and I felt what you were feeling. It was like I was inside you. It was when I was still at work, and the feeling continued all the way home; I think it made me fall asleep, it was so strong, so powerful, like a wave, overwhelming me. I knew it was you, and I knew you were heartbroken. I felt what you were feeling from miles away. I don’t know how. But I did. And what I did tonight--”

“Kenzie, what’s happening to us? What are we?” Duncan stared down into her eyes and saw the memory of those whirling golden galaxies from his dream of her (as an angel--with imperceptible wings) and saw her own hazel eyes too, and was dizzy with the vision of both. “What do the dreams mean? When you disappeared, I was so afraid--fuck, I forgot to even try to call you or text you, I was freaking out so much, wondering where you’d gone--then I concentrated and I felt you. You were like a ball of light inside my mind. I followed the feeling of you to where you were, I imagined there was a thread between us, made of gold--and then I found you. My feet led me to the powder room, and there you were. Like you’d been calling for me and I heard your voice.”

“I--I don’t know--it’s something about us finding each other, that’s what I think, that’s what I keep coming back to,” and Kenzie’s fingers were brushing over his intricate gold collar, down his velvet arms, finding his hands, holding them against the bare skin above her structured bodice. “I think when we met it was like...a door flew open. An invisible door, one that had been shut, and when it opened, so many other things poured into us, not just each other, not just this incredible love--” and Duncan stopped her mouth with his, his need to kiss her too great, her mouth too beautiful in the moonlight, her hair too soft and rose-laden to not have his hands in it anymore, the gold of her too ethereal, and she gasped into his kiss, and he clutched her, leaning down to her exquisite, moon-like face, the dark mulberry stain of her lips all but kissed away by his ardency tonight, leaving them bruised and pink, and he crushed himself into them again, his body rocking against hers with deep fatigue and a desire to sleep with her, sleep forever under a full, benevolent moon.

“Let’s go,” he whispered between their kisses, his hands urging her against him. “Let’s go home. I’m tired, baby. I want you alone. None of this matters. Only you.” Kenzie was nodding into him, her face flooding with visible relief, and Duncan was remembering her run in with his uncle tonight--I’ve always suspected that Bill hates me, so I’m not surprised he hates anyone I care about, too. I think deep down Bill has always been suspicious that we don’t share the same goals for Shepherd Unlimited--that one day, I’d take it from him and make it into what he is fearful of. Something GOOD. Well, Bill, you’re right. Your fears were all founded. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. And I found a goddess to help me.

Duncan was gripping Kenzie’s hand and pulling her back through the mansion--Samuel had likely already left with Madeline and Erik, but he was sober enough anyway, and he knew what to do. Annette had a garage under the mansion with twenty cars--and they were going to take one of them home tonight, then to Deep Creek Lake tomorrow. No one would be coming with them, not Samuel, not Harris, no one. The prospect sent a burst of excitement through him, pushing his fatigue away; alone with you in the beauty of nature. And I’ve been away from it for so long. You’re going to love the cabin so much, baby. Knowing you now, I feel like it was created just for you. You’ll see what I mean. It’s like its own little world.

Duncan was clutching Kenzie’s train carefully in one hand and her fingers in the other, leading her down the hall with a pointed, swift stride, around the array of important guests who seemed to be noticing them again, judging from the long stares. Duckenzie Duckenzie Duckenzie the son of Annette Shepherd with the daughter of Madeline Stone who would ever think such a thing how absurd look how beautiful they are wow look at them look look look. Fuck, he thought, now I can hear everyone else’s thoughts, too? Or maybe just right now? Or maybe I’m imagining it? God, it’s all too much. Right now we just need to get away from all of this.

He was about to turn down a side-hall that was mostly deserted towards the center of the mansion, the one he knew led to Annette’s impressive private library, and from there a secret passage behind one of the bookcases that led to the basement garage, but he stopped, his heart slamming up against his ribs. Annette and Bill were at the end of it, conversing with Senator Howell. Fuck. No.

He glanced with alarm at Kenzie, who was balking and stepping back, her eyes slitted at Bill, who does indeed look very ill, Duncan noted, seeing his uncle’s deeply gray pallor, the thin sheen of sweat on his brow. Bill looks like he’s about to fall into his grave, in fact. Annette seemed to have noticed as well, because she was staring with deep concern at her brother, and hadn’t noticed them yet. Mom, you look so beautiful tonight, Duncan noted, his heart now in his mouth. My mother, and yet, not my mother. The soft fall of her hair in its gathers around the nape of her neck, the pearls at her throat, the glowing, pollen-patterned yellow satin dress she wore. Duncan noted the deep sadness that lingered on her face tonight--her brother is dying, and her son won’t talk to her. But mom, it’s not as simple as that, and you know it. You had to know this day would come. You had to know eventually I’d find out. How could you keep it from me for so long? It would have been easier if you’d told me long ago. But perhaps you really couldn’t bear to admit it after a certain point. Maybe it really was love that convinced you to keep it secret--or maybe it was just your own need to be loved.

And he knew when they got back from the woods, when they came home from the secluded place where they’d go to find out each other’s secrets--because he knew that would happen while they were away, I feel it, in my heart, in my soul, I know we are going to discover something about ourselves there, I know it, baby, I know it absolutely, and he knew Kenzie heard his thought--that he’d speak with Annette and Bill, and it would be wrenching for him, but that it would happen and it must happen, and only then would the future move into the present and the wheel continue to turn them to their Fate.

But not yet. Come on baby, this way. I know another way. And he and Kenzie slipped away from the line of sight of Annette and Bill Shepherd. Duncan was struck with a realization a few seconds later; he knew that Annette had looked down the hall the moment they slipped away, had thought maybe she’d seen a corner of Kenzie’s golden gown from the corner of her eye, but that when she’d turned her head, no one had been there. And Annette’s heart was full of sorrow--full of her own regret, the sting of her own faults and her mistakes. Like Kenzie feeling my sadness last night, over miles--I think I can feel how my mother feels right now. Just a little. Enough to know that her sorrow is genuine, and her remorse absolute. Oh, Mom.

They’d turned down another hall--this one seemed to be a service hall, several of the serving people in their Pre-Raphaelite costumes moving along it back and forth, some with empty trays, some with trays fresh hors d'oeuvres moving back out to the main hall. Duncan pulled Kenzie along it--several of the service people gave them puzzled looks, but said nothing; they obviously recognized him (or us: Duckenzie Duckenzie Duckenzie). Duncan Shepherd can do what he likes in his mother’s house, I guess, Duncan heard the drifting thought from a tall, handsome man with a laurel wreath in his hair and a red-russet robe over his shoulder, akin to Narcissus in Waterhouse’s painting. Duncan opened a side-door, and this led to a quiet room that seemed to be a service lounge, currently only occupied by a tired-looking woman in a white veil and a cobalt-blue period dress. She glanced up, disinterested at first, then shock fell over her face as she saw them moving through the room.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, and Duncan saw Kenzie looking at the woman with a shy smile. “Duncan Shepherd and Mackenzie Stone, oh my goooooood. Wow, wow, wow.” She sat up and her fists came up to her chin, clutching at her face as though to hold her head up. “You’re even more beautiful in person than I imagined.”

“We have to go, but thank you, sweetness,” Kenzie was whispering to her, and blew her a kiss as Duncan opened a door at the other end of the room, urging her through it gently. The girl blushed deeply, her mouth falling open, her eyes glowing at them.

Then the door swung shut behind them and they were in Annette’s library. Blessedly, deserted. The library was tucked near the center of the mansion’s floor plan, therefore often not discovered by those who weren’t familiar with its vast layout--but Duncan had spent most of his childhood after he’d learned to read in this room, and knew it like the back of his hand. The mansion would be his someday, and Duncan knew he’d keep it for one reason and one reason alone--this room. The fixtures were all brass, the six embossed electric chandeliers with eight flower-shaped bulbs apiece flaring into low light as he flipped the panel of switches by the door, and the wood paneling was cherry-russet oak, deeply pleasant to look at, warm and comforting. There was a huge fireplace along one wall, the kind of fireplace Duncan always imagined a king would have in a great-hall, and books stretched along every wall--so many books that he knew, as he’d known as a child, gratefully, that he’d never get a chance to read them all. Too many, and so, I’ll always have a new one to discover. Kenzie was gasping quietly at his side.

“Ohhh, Dunny. This is so fucking beautiful.” There was a second floor above them, too, with gilded metal railings, and the wood floors had dark-colored Persian rugs to muffle the sound of footsteps--to preserve the ever-hallowed quiet of a library. Duncan eyed the corner where the impressive Bosendorfer Imperial sat--he knew pressing the black C sharp key would unlock the door behind the bookcase there, but he hesitated, then went to a bookcase towards the back of the shelf lining the wall to his right, pulling Kenzie gently with him.

“Come here, baby, I wanna show you something.”

He went to a familiar corner (so familiar, with its rows and rows of mythology books), eyes drifting along the shelves--then they fell on what he was looking for. Duncan pulled the book down, its hardback edges fraying from use, its familiar golden cover immediately conjuring pleasant memories of him reading alone for hours, gazing raptly at the illustrations, hiding from the world. D’aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths. On its cover was Helios, the sun, driving his white stallions in a chariot of fire. Duncan flipped the book open, Kenzie staring through the crook under his arm now where she’d slipped, sweetly and quietly, and it fell open to an illustration of Persephone in a golden field of flowers, racing into the arms of her mother.

“This one really does sort of look like me,” Kenzie whispered up to him, her eyes stirring the love up from the center of him. He pulled her closer, her little arms dipping around his waist.

“I used to look at this book for hours and hours,” he murmured, turning the pages, washes of familiarity falling over him, the pleasant memories of cold winter evenings and hot summer days, hiding here in the warmth and the cool shadows. “You can practically see the stains from my fingers on it. I didn’t have any friends, so books were my friends.”

“Let’s bring it with us,” Kenzie whispered. “I want to look at it when we’re at the cabin. I wanna touch it and feel you in its pages.”

Duncan nodded to her, closing it carefully, bringing his lips down to her temple. Kenzie turned her head and pulled him down to her, fingers running down his stubble, kissing him deeply for one long, beautiful, extended moment. I felt you, feeling Annette’s pain. Needing your own time to heal doesn’t make you a cruel person, baby. Everything in its time. He clutched her, his love for her overwhelming and all-consuming--then their kiss broke apart, and Duncan was struck again by his need to be home, alone with her.

“Over here, Kenz, watch this.” Duncan led her over to the impressive Bosendorfer, its matte black surface polished to a high sheen, pressing the black key in the center of the piano. He heard the telltale click of the bookcase directly ahead of them dipping out--it was appropriately covered in tomes of gothic literature (Poe, the Brontes, The Mysteries of Udolpho, Dracula). Kenzie gasped in delight, clutching the book against her golden breast, her mouth falling open.

“Oh my god, Duncan, that is the greatest thing ever.”

“It leads to the underground garage. We’re gonna take one of the cars home tonight. That way we can take it to the lake tomorrow, and we won’t have to worry about anyone or anything. We can stay as long as we want and come back when we feel ready.”

Kenzie pressed against him, the crown of her gold hair falling against his chin, her body sighing with approval. Duncan’s arms came around her, clutching her tight, drinking in the rosy smell of her, the soft flowery scent of her shampoo and the product Hannah had put in it--like a sunlit shoreline, he thought. At any other time in my life I’d be utterly devastated by yesterday, destroyed by it. But how can I be sad when you’re in my arms, Mackenzie Stone? To love you is to be at peace, no matter what rages around us. The world could be falling down and still I’d be calm in your embrace. Duncan felt acutely that a page was turning now--the page was this evening, this Gala, this night, its glittering superficiality, its chaos, its energy intent on disturbing their peace, their love, their happiness--but it hadn’t succeeded, it had only made him more determined than ever to cherish this wondrous love he’d found, a love that was kindling at every moment the desire in him to be better, be gentler for her, be more forgiving, more intent on loving her in every moment.

They broke apart, and Kenzie was flitting ahead of him (on her fast little feet in those golden heels), pulling carefully at the bookcase and peering behind it, glancing back at him with exuberant eyes, her mouth open in an expression of glee. There was an elevator there, waiting open with silent repose, and Duncan stepped through to it, pulling Kenzie along with him, hitting a round gold button with a plaque beside it that read GARAGE. The elevator’s doors slid shut, silently, a low-toned bell sounding, and then the elevator drifted down. When it opened a moment later, Duncan saw the familiar expanse of the private garage in quiet, clean monochrome--a security guard with a shiny black bald head sat sleepily on a swivel desk chair in a nearby booth surrounded in plexiglass, and his head came up with a jerk at the elevator’s bell.

“Mr. Shepherd, I didn’t know you needed a car tonight, they didn’t tell me--” he started, going to stand.

“It’s fine, Henry, right? Not a big deal. I let Miss Stone’s mother take my private car home, and I barely had anything to drink, so we thought we’d take ourselves home tonight.”

“Sure, Mr. Shepherd, sure. Yeah, Henry. Any particular kind of car?”

“The G-Class, I think. We’re going to use it for a few days...to do some sightseeing.”

“Oh, man, I love that car, drives like a dream. Sure thing, Mr. Shepherd.” Henry was turning to a rack of keys behind him, pulling down a smart key that was mounted on a wall-set charger there--he pushed open the sliding door of the plexiglass booth and held it out to them. Duncan took it, holding down a button on the front of the smart key, speaking into it. The pad read I’M LISTENING.

“Come to me.”

Duncan watched Kenzie’s rapt face with delight as a black SUV with sharp lines backed out of a nearby spot from a low row of other black cars of different makes and models, straightened itself, and drove towards them with slow, creeping speed.

“Holy shit,” Kenzie whispered. “The car can drive itself.”

“Well, y’all can drive it too,” Henry laughed at her, and Duncan noticed the guard’s eyes falling up and down Kenzie’s golden dress and her tawny hair, admiringly. An angel, I know.

“Thanks, Henry.”

“Sure thing, boss. Y’all have a good night. I’ll log that you’re using it.”

Duncan nodded, reaching down to Kenzie’s hand, carefully still holding her train. Keep the truth of my adoption from me for 30 years, Mom, I think I can borrow a car from you. Annette would find out later that he’d taken a car, he was sure, but he couldn’t be bothered to worry about her reaction. He led Kenzie to the passenger side of the SUV and helped in her in, lifting her up gently, tucking the train around her. Kenzie was gazing into the leather interior of the dashboard, her eyes gleaming, her fingers white around her golden clutch. Duncan ran around to the other side, anxious at the thought of Annette catching them before they had a chance to escape, but then, slipping into the driver’s seat, his heart calmed as he gripped the steering wheel and he pressed the smart key again, hearing the biturbo engine roar into life. No, he felt certain. We’ll get away without a hitch. The Fates have written it, I can feel it.

He reached across the middle of the seats, and Kenzie grasped his hand on her lap over the book she still held in safekeeping, her fingers wonderfully warm, the diamonds at her wrist glittering. The Gala’s over, she thought to him, deep relief in the golden drift of her mind. I can’t wait to share these next few days with you. I feel like the greatest secrets are about to revealed to us. And I’m not afraid, baby. With you, all my fear melts away. I can see my destiny inside your eyes.

As I see mine in yours, he thought to her, and put his foot on the gas, drifting his hand out of hers and onto the steering wheel, pulling the car around to the exit tunnel that spread out from the other end of the garage--as they climbed up to ground level, Kenzie switched on the Sirius XM radio, turning the knob to a channel called BPM. Upbeat electronic floated into the car as the neon lights of the tunnel fell over Kenzie’s cheeks in gold and blue--we get it almost every night, when that moon is big and bright, it’s a supernatural delight, everybody’s dancing in the moonlight…

Kenzie began to sway back and forth in her seat, moving to the music, shifting her shoulders and tossing her rosy hair with aching loveliness that made Duncan’s heart feel as though it would leap out of his body, his head suddenly hazy with her. Her lovely voice washed over him as she sang along, her eyes glittering on him, her thoughts in the shape of golden kisses against him as he drove into the night, the moon still high above them, huge and round like some otherworldly fruit in the clear, starry sky.

“Dancin’ in the moonlight, everybody’s feelin’ warm and bright, it’s such a fine and natural sight, everybody’s dancin’ in the moonlight…”

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wonderlustlucas · 6 years ago

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joie de vivre - kim yugyeom

⇢ prompt “What an odd individual. What an odd joy.” ⇢ pairing yugyeom x female reader ⇢ word count 10.7k ⇢ genre fluff & comedy ⇢ warnings swearing & a gross amount of fluff ⇢ summary (i couldn’t come up w a summary but camille did so here u go heheh) In this sweet and relatable story of hopeful romance and inner girl power, you find yourself meeting and getting to know the effervescent boys of GOT7. With exotic food orders and the unmistakable heart-fluttering that defines young love, Joie de Vivre delivers a humorous and cleverly fun take on the awesomeness of your favorite K-pop stars.—beach!au ⇢ a/n wow i can’t believe i’m finally posting this. since july i have deserted & gone back to this damn chapter so many times & i’m just so happy i can finally post it. nevertheless, considering it’s almost christmas & i have zero summer vibes left, this is probably going to be on hold for a looong time since i have so many autumn & winter inspired works i wanna write, so i apologize for the tease. i’d also like to give a big shoutout to my friend camille who edited this for me (along with helping me in various other ways) since i didn’t have time:) & last but not least, i wanted to have this up for yugyeom’s birthday but couldn’t make time, so happy belated birthday to my love, i hope your year is full of all the happiness in the world❥

i ii iii iv v vi vii

moodboard

Contrary to all the whining and complaining that ensues at the start of each grueling summer year, it truly is the beginning of the most thrilling months.

A time when, despite the startlingly tremendous surge of obnoxious, vape-induced teenagers hoarding the boardwalk like flies drawn to an outdoor barbeque, and the influx of ignorant young children flopping through the ocean waves like they are training to become fish, there is always a milieu of genuine elation hanging in the air.

This constant joy—whether it is emanating from the relaxation that oozes from unwinding vacationers flooding the beach and boardwalk, continuous hours wasted away doing nothing and days melting into one another, or simply the enkindling of town—makes up for all the downsides that arise with the start of summer.

Over years of enduring this unnamed cycle of life, you have come to appreciate that there are four types of joy; the expected, the unexpected, the habitual, and the unknown.

The expected—a joy with which you are familiar and the elation it will give you.

The unexpected—aware of the plan, but not expecting the joy that will result from it.

The habitual—occurring so frequently that, while still appealing, is more of a routine rather than a new and exciting experience.

And the unknown—any choice resulting in a different ending, a different joy.

However, despite recognizing these, the unknown sort of joy is the most enigmatic because, named for this specific reason, you never know when it is happening or when it will be.

Even so, one such occurrence is most certainly not a habitual joy. Rather, a royal pain in your ass: when Kim Jinae, in an effort that you could never grasp entirely, decides to wake not only herself but also the two of you up at a time that you should most definitely still be dead asleep nearly every day during your months off.

“You know,” you huff, deeply inhaling the morning ocean hair to fill your lungs. Your body is sagging in sheer exhaustion as you follow her peppy steps—how is she still so fired up?—a few feet behind, sneakers skidding lazily against the worn wood of the boardwalk. "I really miss when your shift was in the morning, and we worked out at night. I hope you know I hate you for guilt-tripping me into this."

Jinae scoffs, coming to a stop and whipping around. “I’m sorry, but who wants to spend the whole damn day down at the beach? And who guilt-tripped who into switching shifts?”

You huff heavily, accepting defeat because she's right, but you would never tell her. You look away to peek at the waves approaching the shore nearly a football field away that reflect apricots and azaleas on the horizon from the remaining sunrise. Your irritated thoughts are replaced with the wonder of today’s plan. “Speaking of, what are we doing today?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. You make a mental note to never ask her anything again because—Lord knows—Jinae is zero help. “I assumed we were just doing the usual.”

You sigh, following her silently down the wooden steps from the boardwalk, the ocean now faintly hushed behind you. You wipe away a bead of sweat dripping down from your hairline. “Can you make breakfast before I have to leave?”

Jinae mutters something under her breath, then twists around to face you. “You’re a real brat, you know?”

You beam. “Learned it from the best.”

Your first joy, practically your best friend since you could walk, quite possibly your soulmate—Kim Jinae.

While some days do in fact seem to drag on endlessly, working only four hours a day and four days a week during the summer months is a bargain worth paying for and an opportunity sent by the heavens. It pays what your parents don’t, you tell yourself when service is slow and customers bark at you as if you’re the one doing the cooking. A little extra in the cookie jar, you whisper under your breath after covering eight tables at once, shifting uncomfortably in your uniform as perspiration dribbles down your spine while darting from the sweltering kitchen to each consecutive table.

However, most days seemingly fly by. After all, eight to twelve are prime breakfast hours, and so the quaint diner is not half as cruel as some prior jobs. Not to mention, it is right on the boardwalk, which makes meeting up with Jinae for the rest of the day well spent at the beach even simpler.

Upon setting down the check for your last table and offering a polite farewell, you scan the room curiously until, after a few seconds of concern, your gaze lands on a certain busboy setting down silverware on a recently cleaned booth. "Hey Markipooh," you coo, greeting the unacceptably gorgeous brunette and sliding across the tiled marble floor to stand beside him and to help finish laying out paper placemats.

Mark Tuan—the Devil in Disguise. During your first few days at the new job, you were quietly aware of the only other employee that took advantage of the locker room, initially an exceptionally attractive blonde who had not even graced you with a glance since you started.

That was, until hardly a week later, you found yourself packing up for the day when he entered to do the same.

“Woah, you’re a brunette now.” It slipped out before your brain could truly even process the sentence, gears positively malfunctioning in your head because God, he’s hot but God, you’re an idiot. He blinked, running a hand through his darkened locks and eyeing you curiously for an agonizingly long heartbeat before he straightforwardly said, “It’s pink, actually.”

Oh, so he’s sarcastic. “Hilarious,” you retorted, watching curiously as he made way for his own locker. “I’m glad to see that you do in fact talk, though.”

He laughed lightly, a percussion that made your heart soar. He disregarded a chiming notification from his phone to stare intensely back at your inquiring gaze, saying, “Is that what keeps you up at night? Whether or not your incredibly hot co-worker is mute?”

You wrinkled your nose. “Don’t flatter yourself, you're not that special.”

And so, it came to be that the busboy was not who he seemed to be. Like two puzzle pieces that fit together seamlessly, you clicked with Mark so quickly that even Jinae seemed to impatiently grow jealous. Tirelessly cunning, Mark is a perfect force against your own quick-wittedness. However, he is a precious munchkin of a boy when he wants to be. The fact that he has not only been to but has lived in so many places in the span of twenty-four years, plus his expansive knowledge of more languages than you could ever possibly grasp, has heartily drawn you in until, you have realized your second joy—Mark Tuan.

And here you are, hardly two months later.

Instead of replying verbally, Mark only glares at you coldly before, finally, "You're going to use that against me for the rest of my life, aren't you?"

You grin mischievously at the mathematics major—well, the mathematics major working on his Master’s, as he likes to remind you at every chance that presents itself—and follow him once he makes way to the otherwise empty locker room.

“Probably,” you chuckle while slipping the suffocatingly hot sneakers off your feet. You check the door behind you once more before peeling your top and bra off and replacing them with the navy-blue bathing suit top shoved haphazardly into your locker. You add, “It’s really funny seeing you get annoyed.”

“It’s really funny seeing you get annoyed,” Mark mimics under his breath, voice uncharacteristically high to impersonate your own, as you slip a plain tee-shirt from high school over your head. “I had to become friends with the spawn of Satan, of all people.”

You laugh, shimmying out of your pants and underwear and swiftly pulling up the matching bathing suit bottoms. “You know I love you.”

“Nuh-uh,” Mark grumbles from somewhere behind you. You are too preoccupied with trying to fold your clothes as nicely as possible into your bag. He continues, “Don’t pull that shit on me. Just ‘cos you’re a senior now doesn’t mean I’m gonna deal with your crap.”

“Just because you’re a senior now,” you mimic as he had, only he interrupts your shenanigans with a hard punch to your arm as the two of you head outside. “Anyway,” he sighs, ignoring your scowl and pausing to inhale the briny aroma that never seems to leave the thick ocean air, “I don’t know what your plans are, but some of my friends are working at a joint that opened recently, and I was hoping you’d come?”

“Is this just another sneaky plan to hang out with Jinae?” You chuckle, digging into his side with your elbow. He gasps, “Hey! Maybe I’m just being a nice friend.”

“Oh, yeah, a friend,” you snort. At the genuine pout that clouds his expression, however, you stop and hook your arm through his. “Don’t worry, I promised I would be your wingwoman, didn’t I?”

Mark sighs, shrugging. Then he says, “Why couldn’t I have fallen for you instead?”

With a noise of amusement and disbelief that sounds like something between a snicker and a choke, you rest your head against his bicep momentarily before glancing up at him. “You’re too hot for me.”

“Sure, and pigs fly. I’m actually kind of worried that my friends are going to pounce on you.”

You scoff. “Yeah, okay. Speaking of, who are these friends of yours?”

“Oh!” Mark exclaims, visibly brightening, his white teeth dazzling as he smiles. “So there’s six of ‘em. We all ended up meeting each other at the studio for the first dance class.”

“Pause,” you interject, surprised. “They all go to the same school as us?”

He nods eagerly. “They’re all getting their Master’s, too. Youngjae just graduated with Jinae, and I think BamBam is in your class. Yugyeom is a grade below, I believe.”

Your jaw nearly hits the floor. “BamBam? Like, the—”

“The really cute, bubbly loudmouth?”

“Yeah! You’re friends with BamBam?” You gape. What a small world, you think. When you glance up you happen to notice Jinae waving like a madwoman several feet ahead. You wave back, however, Mark’s snort interrupts you. “What?” He says. “Am I not cool enough to be friends with him?”

You giggle. Though it is tempting to agree, you do not feel like delving into a full roasting session. You instead opt for, “No, shut up and stop being insecure. I was just surprised. I never spoke with him, but we had calculus together.”

Mark only hums in agreement. You assume that by reaching Jinae he has suddenly clammed up. You clear your throat. “Jinae! Mark has plans for us!”

Whether Mark notices it or not, you certainly catch the way Jinae’s face brightens, her enchanting brown eyes scrunching in delight. They’re so into one another, you think, just as she gushes, “No way! Let’s go, then! Where at?”

Your gut truly twists as a result of the saccharine sweetness between the two, an indisputable and perpetual attracting force that all people but the pair can recognize. In an instant, you clear your throat after a disgustingly long amount of time passes of them just staring at each other before you end up with a cavity. “C’mon, then. I’m not going to wait all day.”

Mark jolts, turning to you as the apples of his cheeks bloom pink. He scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah—Yeah, let’s go.”

You cannot help the satisfied smirk that comes with him rushing ahead and Jinae positively melting into a pile of mush. You snort, patting her flushed cheeks and following Mark’s speedy path ahead of Jinae’s delayed trailing.

Like most shops and grills lining the boardwalk, JJ’s—as you learned several minutes later once the two bounced back after whatever happened moments ago—is just the same.

With an entirely open entrance, aside from two small table-and-chair sets halfway on the boardwalk and halfway under the ceiling and walls painted butterscotch orange, the grill is squeezed between an unnecessarily expensive jewelry store and a bustling candy shop. The mouthwatering aroma of bulgogi and honey soy filling your senses is a grand contrast to the briny odor from outside. It’s so small you wonder if customers even order to stay, yet it is not cramped in any way—within a space of ten feet, give or take, there is shelving on each set of parallel walls, wide enough to dine at, with two metal chairs tucked in front, a black refrigerator stocked with cold drinks, the counter, which is checkered marble and decorated with a change jar and a vase of snapdragons, is to the right of a sliding barn door painted with doodles of the beach and a lighthouse.

Beyond the counter is a small kitchen with deep fryers to the left and three large aluminum dishes full of fried chicken resting on an island in the middle of the room. The archway that leads to an unknown area occupying the rest of the space is blocked by a plain maroon curtain; with one last scan of the quaint space and another deep inhale, you conclude that, even before tasting anything, this may be your new favorite place to eat.

Your captivated daze is cut short by the voice working behind the counter.

“Mark-hyung!” None other than BamBam calls from his perch on a stool, silver hair pushed up and over his forehead in a messy comma-shaped style. Mark scoffs, “Stop calling me hyung in front of my friends. It makes me feel old.”

“Is that Mark?” Shouts a disembodied voice as BamBam hops from his seat and slides open the drawn-on door. You glance to Jinae, whose baffled expression most certainly mirrors your own, just as said voice bolts over to greet your eldest friend.

“Mark!” Roars an unreasonably attractive brunette, shoving BamBam to the side so roughly that you lean back a bit just to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.

“Jesus, you guys are so fake. Stop putting on a show. My friends are normal,” huffs Mark, sending the loud newcomer a condescending glare. Just as you begin to think you have gone invisible, he twists to you with a beaming boyish grin that reaches his eyes. “Jackson, BamBam, this is ___,” he says, introducing you and resting his palm on the small of your back. “and Jinae,” he adds.

“Hello!” Shouts another figure who you had not spotted working behind the counter. Like BamBam and this Jackson, he too is classically handsome, and you practically feel your stomach twist into knots at the sudden intensity of it all, not one but four strikingly gorgeous young men—where have they been your whole life?—in one room that is most definitely tinier now, and you cannot breathe, and there’s still three more you have yet to meet?

“Hey.” BamBam’s chirpy voice—having not heard it since sophomore year, you reckon that it matches the sweetness of his facial features—interrupts your short-lived tizzy of emotions. “weren’t you in my calculus class?”

“Yeah, that would be me,” you nod, smiling in response to his own heartwarming grin. “I didn’t know you lived around here.”

“Youngjae?” Jinae’s gasp cuts into BamBam’s potential answer. Evident surprise is laced in her tone as the aforementioned employee rounds the counter. Your gaze flicks back and forth from her and Mark to his three friends, not knowing where to focus. You decide on Jackson—Hell, he’s nice to look at—and find yourself thanking the heavens that fate has made it so Mark entered your life and has ultimately led you to a much too small grill, containing way too many blessed genes all at once.

“You look lost,” says the brunette god himself, catching on to your hazy staring and shuffling to stand beside you, “not that I blame you.” You laugh lightly, dragging your gaze from the distracting way his dark hair falls over his forehead to Jinae and Youngjae bubbling away, something about not having seen one another since graduation, and how they both will be working on their Master’s. Finally you look to Mark, who stands beside BamBam with an expression of delight gracing his features, watching two separate groups of friends intermingle.

“Yeah, this is a bit much,” you admit at last, refocusing on him once the cogs inside your brain begin working again. “I like it, though.”

Jackson grins widely and you positively swoon. He laughs. “Sorry to break it to you, but if you’ve survived three years avoiding Bam, your life is probably going to go downhill from here.”

“Hey!” The plump-lipped model—oh, he could definitely be a model parading down the runway with that face—cuts in, his brows drawn together in mock irritation. You choke, making a noise of surprise when he continues, pulling you into a tight side hug. “This is the beginning of the best chapters of their lives.”

“Keep dreaming, bud,” Mark snorts, slapping his shoulder. You watch from under his chin as BamBam frowns, shooting your friend a glare that could most definitely kill if it weren’t for the dazzling grin that follows.

“Where’s everyone else?” Mark questions as BamBam unwinds his arms from around you—why do they have to be hot and nice?

“Dad and Dad are trying to fix the sink and Yugyeom is...” Jackson says. Rubbing at his bottom lip, he trails off, looking to Youngjae and BamBam. “Where is Yugyeom?”

“I think he went to get chocolate milk,” Youngjae chuckles, dark hair falling over his eye as he does so. “You know how he is.” You look to Jackson, whispering, “Who’s Dad and Dad?”

“Jaebum and Jinyoung. They own this place, plus we’re all pretty certain that they’re an item, so we call them that. They’re in the back,” he explains, nodding to the archway. At this, you hear the muffled noises bustling from behind the curtain that you had not noticed beforehand.

“And Yugyeom?”

“Oh,” Jackson smirks again—trouble—and makes his way back to the counter, “He’s the big ol’ goof. You’ll like him.”

“You guys have bubble tea, right?” Mark changes the subject as Youngjae and BamBam follow Jackson. With them not clustered around you any longer, you take another moment to glance all around, pausing your meandering to glance over the options on the menu. Fried chicken, tacos, rice bowls, kimchi fried riceballs... kimchi cheese fries? You jab your elbow into Jinae's side, nodding to the overhanging menu, "Kimchi cheese fries, dude."

"That's definitely not part of my diet."

"Oh, fuck the diet," you hiss, earning a sharp glare, but you roll your eyes nevertheless.

"No, the bubble tea menu is just there for fun," Jackson snorts, finally responding to Mark’s question and grinning like a madman. Youngjae is howling, smiling so bright you fear his whole jaw may break. "Hilarious," Mark grumbles, turning to you for backup. When he finds you mirroring Jackson's expression, though, he frowns. "This was a mistake."

"Oh, lighten up," you coo, ruffling his parted hair, but he smacks your hand away with a huff. You roll your eyes and look to BamBam, who stands ready for your order. You say, "I'll have a large black milk with tapioca and, uh, hm—a chicken rice bowl."

"Sure," he hums, tapping the screen. "That's gonna be fifteen ninety-one.”

"Make it ten," Jackson butts in, grinning like he just won the lottery. Oh, you're burning up now. You smile to the floor but hide it as you fish for money in your pocket. "Thanks," you manage to croak out, passing the cash to BamBam. After he’s finished, he smacks Jackson on the shoulder, muttering something about his discounts for hot girls putting them out of business, which causes the elder to howl in faux pain while shuffling to the archway to yell back your order. You watch the entire episode with an amused smile that can’t seem to leave your face. You shake your head and at last move to sit on one of the barstools while Jinae orders.

“Should I pay for hers?” Mark whispers, leaning onto the ledge with an expression of apprehension etched onto his face. He chews on his lip. “Yeah, that’s sweet,” you grin, and with an encouraging squish of his cheeks, you push him forward.

You watch, utterly zoned in and praying to every god out there that he does not turn into an awkward pile of mush. The grin can’t seem to leave your face when he steps up beside her and—

“Oh my God, he’s become a man,” says a voice from beside you suddenly. You nearly jump out of your skin, jerking in your seat. “Holy fucking shit!” You wheeze, clapping a hand over your heart but, alas, this does not comfort the additional torment your essential organ faces once you look up to said tormentor.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the boy-man-squish giggles—he giggles—with pinkpinkpink, heart-shaped lips pulling back to reveal quite possibly the cutest and most endearing smile you have ever seen.

And, just like that, you sit there, dumbfounded, positively enamored by this—this attacker, with every last working brain cell stuttering to a halt to admire him. “Oh,” you laugh—or was that another wheeze?—with a cough, then you clear your throat, squinting in some sort of weak attempt to make eye contact instead of gawking at his windblown, light golden brown hair that, conveniently, falls right into his eyes. However, as soon as you focus on the darkness of his irises, you realize you are totally, unquestionably screwed, lost in the depths of his nearly black eyes—obsidian is a better word—and even though there is nothing astoundingly exceptional or different about him, you simply cannot help feeling absolutely overwhelmed within a matter of seconds.

“That’s okay,” you finally force out. “I just didn’t see you come in.”

He smiles softer this time, and while your heart still jumps at the expression, you force yourself to look back to Mark and Jinae before a heart attack ensues. You come to find you missed whatever proceeded Mark’s initiative. However, judging by the threatening smiles and rosy cheeks, you assume it had to have gone well, and so your interest that's burning like a wildfire to peek at the boy that remains beside you proves to be preeminent.

Upon twisting back around, you take notice to the plastic twenty-two-ounce convenience store cup, full of what looks like chocolate milk, gripped lazily in his hand, an outrageous juxtaposition to his height and strong features. Condensation drips from the bottom and onto the tiled floor. You ask, hardly without thinking, “Are you Yugyeom?”

“That’s me,” Yugyeom hums, eyes scrunching into precious crescents as he smiles. “How’d you know?”

“They were talking about where you were earlier,” you say, waving your hand to the others. “Mentioned chocolate milk, so I assumed that was you.”

“Of course. That seems to be my only known trait,” snorts Yugyeom, sending his friends a condescending glare despite them being deep in their own conversations. You snort out a laugh, covering your mouth with your hand when his eyes fly back to soak in your reaction. You compose yourself, then say, “That’s not true. Jackson called you a goof.”

“Wow,” he sighs, frowning, and you watch with a grin etched onto your face as he slaps a hand over his chest. “What did Jinyoung say? Do I have to kill him?”

Snorting quieter this time, you shake your head. “I haven’t met him, so he didn’t say anything. Homicide is not necessary today, bud.”

Yugyeom beams—fuck, it is so unfair to be this good-looking—lifting his cup up to take a long sip. “Hold up,” he pauses, chewing on the straw, “are you ___?” Upon hearing your name fall from his lips, you sit up straighter in your seat as if being on a name-basis suddenly changes things. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Mark has a habit of talking about you and Jinae when he’s with us, seeing that you’re his only other friends,” Yugyeom says proudly, diverting his gaze to the aforementioned boy who is settled beside Jinae at the other seats. He takes another sip of his drink. “Well, it’s mostly about your friend, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget how many days he went on about there being a girl in the locker room.”

Your mouth falls open. “No way!”

“Totally serious. He was annoyed about not having the room for himself for a while, but he always whined about you being pretty, and then one day he started complaining about how sarcastic you are and how he can never win with you, so I guess his little crush ended. And then he met Jinae,” Yugyeom explains, grinning mischievously. “And we all know how it is now.”

“I’m—wow,” you whisper, flabbergasted, mostly from the clarification but also, deep down, hearing the unfairly tall boy use the adjective pretty while talking about you. “I’m glad they met, then. He’s too stinky and old for me.”

“Wait, aren’t—”

BamBam’s sudden calling of your name interrupts whatever the blonde was about to ask. You nearly stumble out of the barstool but relax upon realizing he has only placed your order on the counter, ready for you to grab. “I got it,” pipes Yugyeom from beside you and, heart hammering in your chest, you watch with starry eyes as he places his cup beside you before skipping over and taking your tea and a disposable paper bowl from the counter.

“Thanks,” you smile appreciatively as he places the order in front of you. You twist to sit correctly in your seat. Instead of staring at the wall, you watch curiously as the iced chocolate boy shimmies onto the chair next to you. You clear your throat. “You were saying?”

“Hm?—Oh! Yeah, aren’t you in the class above mine?”

You nod, tearing open the chopstick packet and diving right into the dangmyeon and honey soy chicken. “That’s what Mark told me.” You pause, stuffing food into your mouth. “Although, if I were to judge you by your height,” you chew, letting out a mesmerized sigh at the unacceptably delicious flavors, “I would have thought you were older.”

Yugyeom, smiling charmingly once more, breaks into laughter. “Would you want to try that again without your mouth full?”

You gape, kicking his shin before silently realizing you’re not close enough with him to do that. Grumbling, you say, “What else am I supposed to do when you’re trying to talk to me when I’m eating?”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll leave you be,” he chuckles to himself, taking a slow sip of his milk, and you look back to your meal, digging down to the rice and prodding tacky clumps into your mouth. Your neck suddenly begins to prickle at the notion that you’re being watched. With another mouthful, you slurp up a dangling noodle before building up the courage to look at the blonde only to find him already watching you intently, a lazy smile softening his features.

“You know,” you say as he raises a brow. You take a sip of your tea for effect, nearly choking on an unexpected tapioca ball. You continue, “A stranger watching you eat is rather uncomfortable, especially when it comes to noodles.”

“What else is there to do? Talk to Mark and his girlfriend?” Yugyeom retorts playfully, nodding to the pair, and you smack yourself when the idea of pushing away a stray strand of hair that falls into his left eye arises. Instead, you follow his gaze to Jinae and Mark cheerfully talking away.

“Point taken. Don’t you work here, or something?”

“I get out at one,” he confirms, chuckling when you oh-so-gracefully miss your mouth. Rice lands on your bare thigh. His gaze trails the grains and, upon realizing your lack of clothing, his cheeks flush cherry red, and you fight back a laugh. Deciding to save him from his internal, middle school boy panic, you continue, checking the time on your phone, “It’s one now. Yet when I got here, you weren’t working.”

“I had to get my iced choco.”

“But… don’t you need to work?”

“Eh,” he twists to look at the three behind the counter. “They don’t need me.”

“I don’t think that’s how jobs work, but okay,” you laugh, picking up the dumpling—Jesus, why is everything so good?—and, panicking over the fact that the conversation is ending, you opt to continue, devouring your meal in silence.

Barely two swallows later, a hand slaps against your shoulder and you drop yet another mound of rice as you lurch in surprise.

“Do you like swimming? In the ocean?”

Jackson, looking way more handsome than your average employee should—you’d love to meet the parents of everyone in this room—grins mischievously down at you, dropping his hand.

“Of course. My parents practically threw me into the sea the day I was born,” you joke, slapping yourself on the back when he rears his head to let out a roaring, high-pitched laugh. “Why?”

“On days when we get out at the same time, we always head down and stay until, like, seven. Do you guys want to come with us?”

“Oh.” Nearly choking on the lack of a response, you twist to look at Yugyeom, who watches with the same gentle smile that has not left his face. You cough, turning back around. “Definitely! That’ll be fun. Who is us, though?”

“Me, Jackson, Youngjae, and Bam,” Yugyeom interjects. Once more you turn and offer him a thankful smile before glancing back to Jackson, then past him to Mark and Jinae still chattering away over their meals like two doves sharing a bird bath. You sigh, half out of the dejection that comes with achieving the role of a third wheel but partially over the greedy realization that this means you may have these new friends to yourself. You clear your throat, glancing back between Yugyeom and Jackson before you say, “Are you the type of guys who like to yell ‘shark’ when we’re swimming?”

Jackson smirks. “Shit, are you not into that?”

Within the span of the time it takes for the foursome to change behind a dumpster outside of the grill and join you on your walk down through the sand, you have come to learn four things.

One—these five boys together are louder than any colony of seagulls fighting over a half-bite of a sandwich (if you have ever been the victim of that scene).

Two—Youngjae and Mark are co-parents to a fur child.

“You’re a dad?” You initially hissed, nearly dropping all the belongings you carried. “Coco is a dog,” Mark sighed, clearly exasperated by your conclusion-jumping. You rolled your eyes. “You never told me you had a dog.”

Three—Mark’s friends have a very in-depth plan to give him and Jinae their final push.

“You have to stay as distant from them as possible. We’re going to be your new best friends,” Jackson whispered once you fell in step beside him. “How do you plan on getting them together?” You whispered back, laughter lacing your tone at the idea of scheming on their future relationship. Jackson paused, blinking. He looked to Yugyeom on your side, who casually shrugged.

“We’ll have to leave during random times so they’re left alone together,” BamBam piped up from beside Jackson, nodding to the aforementioned pair walking ahead.

And four—when you are not used to it, insecurity has the claws of a vulture and the weight of an anchor.

And yet, insecurity may be the wrong word. Whatever it is, it sparks a small fire in your tummy, and butterflies are gradually coming to life at your obvious delay, barely there until you proceed to remove your tee. At this, you are startlingly aware of the quick glances thrown your way, and this is when it grows. Or, were there even glances? Had you imagined it? Yeah, that’s what happened, you tell yourself, laying your blanket onto the lumpy sand with unexpected accuracy that only comes with years of doing so. No, they’re staring, definitely staring. An internal panic—an unknown panic—now a forest fire, heart thumping against a glass ribcage. No, nobody is even looking.

You cast an inspecting glance over your newfound group, all mindlessly busy with their own belongings, until—there it is!—there's a fleeting peek from choco boy. You gulp, catching the way the right side of his mouth quirks up. Once you catch his agonizingly long stare, you look away, focusing on flattening the edges of the blanket until you realize, fuck, your boobs, practically spilling out like the Niagara Falls broadcasted on television for all to see with this position. Scrambling to stand upright—fuck the blanket—you skip on the sunscreen orgy and hurry towards the white blanket of froth that forms as the tide gradually approaches the shore, sighing in relief as your toes come into contact with the nippiness of the waves.

So. That’s what it was. Who it was. Shivering against the waves, you trudge on, dodging a wailing child who stomps madly toward his mother. You sigh blissfully as the burning temperature of your skin—whether it be from your fizzing nerves or from the sun beating down relentlessly—drastically cools once you duck through a wave.

In the past you were able to brush off passing thoughts of those around you, those watching you and possibly judging you, by starting up a conversation with Jinae, and even when Mark began joining you, he was so enamored by her that you knew you had nothing to worry about.

However, this is the first time in years you are at the beach with a group predominantly male.

Pushing back your now saturated hair and kicking your legs to stay afloat, you spin to look for your crowd, squinting at the shore that fades into liquid gold, vivid in the brilliant light, and search through the masses of gaudily colored umbrellas and chairs until you catch sight of your blanket and what looks like Mark practicing a backflip in the sand. Mark, Jinae, Youngjae, BamBam… fuck. Recounting, with your fingers this time, and still coming up with a measly four, you shudder into a silent panic all over again, rifling through the clustered vacationers for two certain boys. However, once you do in fact locate the duo resurfacing after diving with aesthetic synchronization under a wave, it seems to only benefit in their search for you, seeing as the older of the two beams like a star and quickens his pace.

“Thought we lost you there for a second,” Jackson greets. At this, you conclude that you may never get over his smile, and you force yourself to turn to the horizon in order to gather your thoughts. “Well,” you grin, looking between him and Yugyeom, both tanned honey gold from daily exposure to the sun, “You found me.”

“What happened back there? You looked like you saw a ghost,” Yugyeom continues, staring up at him. You wonder whether or not the glint in his eyes is innocent but brush it off as simple, playful banter. “I don’t know,” you lie, shrugging. “I think I just got really hot.”

Jackson hums, oblivious to the unexpected tension that has you longing to swim off to another nation and never return. “Do you think it’ll work?”

Yugyeom shrugs, finally breaking eye contact in order to look to his hyung. “Yeah, I mean, at least in the beginning. Don’tcha think they’ll catch on eventually, though?”

In the midst of focusing on jumping up with the current of the waves, you process their words, realizing you really do not even know what they are talking about. “Does this have to do with Mark and Jinae?”

“Mhm,” Jackson starts. “While we’re here, Bam and Youngjae are conveniently going to take a nap.”

“Oh, smart. You guys are really serious about setting them up, aren’t you?”

“At this rate, they aren’t going to do it themselves,” Jackson chuckles, running a hand through his darkened locks, pushing wet strands back. Your gaze absently follows the action. Barely a heartbeat later, salt water is splashed at your face, stinging at your eyes, but you are quick to squeeze them closed. Upon opening them again, you come to find Jackson, eyes wide and honest, and Yugyeom, biting down on rosy lips to hide his laughter.

“Did you just—” splash.

He does it again!

“Oh, you ass!” You yelp, lunging forward and reaching out for the younger boy’s shoulders. No matter how new of a friend he is, this is war. You fight against the strong tug of the ocean at your body. Cackling like a hyena, Yugyeom dodges your weak attempt of a punch, smacking away your insistent hands and shit, you can’t touch the floor anymore. In a split-second decision, you dive beneath the surface and peel open your eyes as much as you can despite the salty sting prompting you to close them. You swim toward your assailant, wrapping your hands around his leg, just above the knee. When you dig your nails lightly into his skin, you nearly choke on a mouthful of water at just how muscular his thigh is. When he starts to squirm away from your grasp, all mouthwatering daydreams about the thighs your new friend possess disappear, and you regain your pose, releasing his leg for hardly a second, just long enough to dig your fingers instead into his side and resurface.

“Stop!” He whines, thrashing away from your tickling. He splashes more water your way as a result. Once he finally trips over his own feet and his head submerges under an approaching wave you finally relent, backstroking away from him to an amused Jackson. “What a thot,” you grumble, rubbing the sting away from your eyes and warily watching the child as he recovers from your attack. “I met you guys hardly an hour ago and suddenly we’re close enough to beat one another up.”

Jackson shrugs, flicking your shoulder, and you shoot him a warning glare.

“I told you we’re going to have to be your new best friends,” he says.

“You! I could’ve died!” Shouts a bewildered Yugyeom as he swims over, looking way too gorgeous for someone who just got knocked by a wave. Despite his playful exaggeration, you smack away the finger he waggles in your face with an eye roll. “You splashed water in my face! Twice!”

“You were staring!”

“Staring? Staring at what?” You snort, unable to even recall what was happening before he suddenly splashed you. “I—hm. Nothing,” he sighs, the apples of his cheeks blooming pink. He looks down and focuses on the ripples of the water. “Never mind.”

“Ooh. ‘Kay,” you laugh awkwardly, looking to Jackson, who mirrors your puzzled expression. Finally letting silence settle in comfortably, you look to the shore in search of Jinae’s obnoxious rainbow umbrella to find all four lying on their towels.

“Anyway, I’m going to see how things are going. Try not to kill each other,” Jackson smirks—how dare he—before moving with the current to shallower waters.

Now what?

Praying to every god out there that conversation will come as fluidly as it did back at JJ’s, you look to Yugyeom, only to witness him with his leg held to his chest as he pulls a shell from between his toes. You wrinkle your nose, laughing, “Did you just pick that up with your foot?”

“It bit me!” He whines, frowning.

“The shell bit you?”

“No,” he caves, grinning stunningly. “It’s a hermit crab.” As he speaks, he moves closer to you, rolling the small cerith shell onto his palm before holding it out to you. “Aw,” you pout, pushing your wet hair away from your face to lean closer as the crab hesitantly taps Yugyeom’s hand with its claws. “They’re so cute.”

He snorts. “Not when they bite you.”

“That’s called karma,” you smirk, cupping your hands for him to drop the crab into. “People who splash their new friends and practically blind them get bitten by crabbies.”

“You’re very dramatic,” Yugyeom says, watching you the same way you adoringly watch the hermit crab. Your attention, however, is not so fixated on the small crustacean in your hand as it is on the slow rise and fall of Yugyeom’s chest—right there in front of you. Tears of water race down the toned muscles of his stomach each time the water level climbs and retreats. You’re just in the middle of ogling when you take notice to the sharp, black edges of tattoos on his sides, more so to the intricate pattern you can only partially see on his right. No, you scold yourself. What are you doing? You just met him today. Shaking your head to rid your mouthwatering daydreaming, you say, “So are you, Mr. I-splashed-you-for-staring. By the way, let me see your tattoo.”

“You’re not going to have it pinch me, right?” He chuckles cautiously, casting a wary glance to said it, and you laugh, gently letting the waves take the hermit crab out of your hands with a shake of your head. “I said I wanted to see it, not pinch it.”

Rolling his eyes, Yugyeom finally lifts his toned arm up to offer a better view to the precise design of a flower, a rose, on his side. You ignore his quiet intake of breath when your fingers subconsciously trace at the detailed ink. “It’s so pretty. I’d kill to do something like this.”

Yugyeom shrugs. “You should, then.”

You scoff, finally stepping back. “I wish, but then I’d have to deal with my parents. They already threw a tantrum when I got my first.”

“Can I see?”

“Oh,” you chuckle, heat rising to your cheeks—God, how old are you?—at the realization that answering his question would take a bit more effort considering you’re shoulder-deep in the ocean, “I’ll have to show you when we get out.”

“Sure,” he hums with a pretty smile, looking around quietly as you drop beneath the surface to once again cool the heat scorching your body. Then, when you come up, he says, “Do you want to get out now?”

“Yeah. We should tell Jackson we smacked each other or something,” you grin, beginning to head back to shore with him trailing a few steps behind. Once you get to the point where the waves start to break, you cross your arms over your chest to keep the girls in place, angling your body to avoid being knocked to the ground for an inevitably sandy, humiliating death.

“Oh, yeah, we’ll think of something,” says Yugyeom.

The sarcasm lacing his tone has not even registered in your brain when his hands are on your waist, shoving you forward until you helplessly trip over the force of the current, flailing ungracefully into the sand with a cry that only gets smothered with the wave passing over your head. That son of a bitch.

When you surface and rub the stinging water from your eyes, you watch unamused as he reels back in laughter, louder than any of the children around you, and with him not paying attention you grab at his ankles, tripping him into his own sandy misery and ignoring all the judgmental stares from bothered teenagers sent your way. Although, you realize much too late that you should have taken him falling on you into consideration. This still does not prepare you for an elbow in the gut and his unfairly giant build squashing you further into the sand. To make it worse, as a wave recedes and another surges forward, all you can focus on is the gritty sand smearing your skin as you tussle in battle with Yugyeom.

“You are,” you spit, finally shoving him off once you’ve gained some safety from the waves, “a royal pain in the ass.”

Unable to contain his laughter, Yugyeom stays on the ground. You wrinkle your nose grossly at the sand not only coating your hair but also his lightened locks. At his lack of a reply, you scoop up a handful of wet sand and slap it onto his stomach. “Hey! That wasn’t cool,” he whines, reclining up on his elbows and glaring at the glop of sand spreading over his abdomen, torso heaving with laughter, “c’mon, that was pretty funny.”

Your irritated façade finally breaks once he flashes an unfairly adorable, boyish grin, and you finally join in with his laughing, scooping up more soppy sand and dribbling it on his toned arm. It does not hit you until he only frowns playfully instead of stopping you how unexpectantly intimate yet natural it is for someone you just met. “I like the tattoo,” Yugyeom suddenly states, poking at the lavender and coral shaded scallop shell right above the waist of your bottoms. You jolt in surprise, cheeks burning at his friendly gesture that only further supports your earlier thoughts.

“Thanks,” you smile. With the last bit of sand glopping onto his stomach, you cringe at your own state of filthiness. “c’mon, we should wash this off. And no more tackling.”

With another quiet laugh, Yugyeom stands to his feet, watching sickeningly as wet sand slides off his body and back into the shallow water with an unpleasant plop! Then, much to your surprise, he reaches his arm down to help you up. “I think your knee went up my ass,” he giggles once you’re up, walking ahead and using the waves to wash off. you grimace at the thought while walking out further to rinse out your hair. “Yeah, and you nearly pulled my top off,” you scoff, cupping water into your hands and scrubbing the sand off your skin. “You’re like a little kid.”

“And you complain too much,” he fires back once you start heading back. This time you keep a watchful eye on him in case he tries to pull another stunt. You gasp playfully, slapping a hand over your heart. “Ouch.”

“Don’t worry,” Yugyeom says. You look over to catch his playful expression. His lips are curled up into a sly smile and his dark eyes twinkle mischievously. “it’s hot.”

You blink, suddenly overwhelmed. Walking alongside the unfairly tall boy you look back to your feet, wary of holes dug and left exposed as a tripping hazard by reckless children. You scoff. “Since when is being a bitch hot?”

“Technically I paused in between those phrases, so I could’ve been talking about the temperature,” Yugyeom says, smirking like the little jerk he is as you lean down to pick up your towel. “What are the first three letters of assuming?”

Scowling, you contemplate kicking up a shower of dry sand if Jackson was not snoozing peacefully next to your own layout. Instead, you punch his arm and watch in satisfaction as he grimaces. “Ha, ha. Very funny. Please leave me alone now.”

“I need help putting on suntan lotion, though,” he pouts just as you plop down onto your blanket, towel wrapped snugly around your shoulders.

“Jesus Christ, how old are you?” You groan, falling back and glaring upside down at him, biting back your laughter when he lets out a loud sigh. “Please? Just my back.”

“Oh my God. Fine, you big baby. I’m not moving, though, so pop a squat.” Finally giving in, you lean up with a defeated sigh, scooting over to leave enough room for his tall ass. You watch disgruntledly as he drops beside you, crossing his legs with his back faced to you. Once he passes back the bottle, you give it a good shake before twisting the cap off. Spraying routinely over is skin, you mutter an apology when he breaks out in goosebumps. “Here,” you mumble, tossing the bottle into his lap before rubbing the greasy spray further over his back and shoulders. You cringe for a millisecond before quickly swiping over the lowest area at the waistband of his bottoms and slapping his shoulder. “Begone, thot.”

When he spirals to face you, you are momentarily whiplashed, and you almost—almost—tell him that he’s so pretty with the mole under his eye and indisputably gorgeous face. However, you quickly remind yourself, oh yeah, you have only known him for a few hours. Fortunately, he replies to your banter, concluding your drool-worthy trance.

“I’m not moving. Just because you called me that.”

You watch, dumbfounded, as he casually flops over and onto his stomach, burying his face between crossed arms without another word. “You—You’re despicable. You have a whole towel to yourself. Leave me be,” you protest, poking his ribs with your foot, still wrapped cozily in your towel.

At your insistent jabbing, he finally pulls an arm away and seizes your ankle, holding it still with an amused smile while he stares up at you. He looks way too hot for someone so incredibly, undeniably annoying. “Yugyeom,” you whine defeatedly, poking his thigh with your other foot. You watch the confidence only grow over his features. You say, “Stop being an ass.”

“Jesus Christ, I thought we were here to set up Mark and Jinae, not you two children,” BamBam suddenly grumbles from beside Jackson, leaning up on his elbows and scowling in your direction. “We’re the same age as you,” Yugyeom retorts, looking to him with a glare. You wait for him to deny BamBam’s accusation, heart thumping loudly in your chest, and yet he doesn’t. “Shut up or I’ll kill you,” BamBam grumbles, realizing it’s not worth the fight. He returns to his interrupted napping.

Laughing, you accept defeat as well and remove yourself from your towel’s shielding concealment, crumpling it into a ball as a pillow and placing it down a few inches from Yugyeom’s head. You lay on your stomach beside him. “Your friends threaten to kill you a lot.”

“It’s because I’m the baby,” he grumbles, resting his head on his wrists to look at you. You do the same.

He continues. “It’s whatever, though. They’re just jealous I’m taller than them.”

“No, you’re just annoying,” faintly, you hear BamBam mumble. Laughing, you cover your mouth with your hand. “I agree with him,” you whisper, the smirk growing harder to hide when Yugyeom frowns in playful hurt. “Shut up,” he grumbles, kicking your ankle with his own. “Don’t you need sun lotion?”

“I put some on before work.”

“But you went in the water,” he pouts, “and that was hours ago.”

“It’s fine,” you smile, heart warm at his concern. “It’s almost four, anyway. The sun isn’t as strong.”

“Oh,” Yugyeom seems to accept this, eyes traveling to your shoulder and lingering there long enough until you feel the heat spread from your head to your toes. Then he looks back to your face, expression soft. “You don’t actually mind if I nap here, right?”

Smiling against the dampness of your crumpled towel, you quietly say, “I don’t mind. As long as you don’t kick me, or something.”

“I can’t make that promise,” he smiles once more before finally resting his forehead on his forearms. You study what you can see of his relaxed silhouette for a moment before messily tying up your damp hair and comfortably burying your face into the towel with a peaceful sigh. What an odd individual.

What an odd joy.

Two hours and a series of blurred insignificant events later, you find yourself lying on your back. A hand jerks your shoulder and brings you back to blurred consciousness. “What?” You grumble, your mind hazy as a result of a long, hot nap that has your brain momentarily reeling at where you are. “It’s a little after six. I’m leaving. Are you good?”

Squeezing your eyes as a sort of fine tuning to get your mind back into business, you finally blink up to Jinae. Holding beach items in her arms, she tells you she's heading back up to your apartment. “Um,” you pause, straining to sit up and scan to see if the others are up. “I’m good. I’ll see you tonight.”

Once she’s off, a tired sigh escapes from your lips as you flip back onto your stomach. You easily drift off for another fifteen minutes or so before waking once more, this time to a screaming baby. Rubbing sandy knuckles over your eyes, you look to your side. Yugyeom, still fast asleep, remains spread out across your blanket, right hand positioned into a small hole in the sand an arm’s length away. You wonder if he dug it in his sleep.

“He sleeps like a dead man. Once we left without him and he came to me and Mark’s apartment at, like, two in the morning ready to kill us,” a voice grumbles ahead of you. Jackson is lying just as you are with a messy case of beachhead, strands dried and awkwardly sticking up in all directions. You laugh, momentarily looking away from the brunette to the dimming sun, which is much lower in the sky at this point. You finally respond, “I can tell. Every time I woke up, he was still knocked. Also, I didn’t know you were Mark’s roommate.”

Wrinkling his nose, Jackson glances over his shoulder to the other three boys still passed out on the sand. “Is that good or bad?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I just hear a lot about you. And now I have a face to match all the stories with.”

“Gosh, what does he say?”

You contemplate it for a moment. It's not like Mark has ever really talked shit. You decide on messing with him. “He says when you sleep, you talk about feet.”

Mouth hanging open, Jackson absorbs your bullshit before his face drains of color, spewing nonsense like a child caught in a lie. “What? Oh my God, you’re joking. You’re joking! Shit, you probably think I have a thing for feet or something. I swear I don’t, oh my—oh my God, bro. I definitely don’t talk about feet.” In an attempt to hold back your laughter resulting from his panic, you force your gaze elsewhere. You focus on Youngjae’s hair billowing from the light breeze until Jackson has exhausted himself breathless.

“I was joking,” you finally cave, but only when you glimpse the deep puppy frown he holds. “All he’s ever said it that you’re too loud in the morning.”

It takes Jackson a few seconds to process your trickery. He blinks. “Wow,” he heaves, sitting up onto his haunches. “I see how it is. You have betrayed me. I guess we’re enemies now.”

“Ha!” BamBam roars somewhere behind. “You really had him!”

“That was pretty good,” pipes Youngjae, sitting up and lifting his sunglasses to push back his hair. He pokes Mark beside him. “Yo, your side girl just flamed Jackson.”

“Side girl?” You snort just as Jackson flails to stand up, kicking sand in the process.

“No, she didn’t!” Jackson shouts defiantly, hands on his hips.

“What’d she say?” Mark grumbles tiredly, blinking to keep his eyes open. He reclines on his elbows.

While Youngjae fills him in, you look to Jackson, who shoots daggers your way but fails to hide his own humored grin. You stifle a laugh as Yugyeom stirs beside you. He mumbles, “What’s all the commotion for?”

“She,” Jackson says, looking at Yugyeom and pointing a finger at you, “is a bitch.” He smirks, flicking your forehead on his way back to his towel. You stick out your tongue. In response he adds, “But a smart bitch.”

“I thought we already established that.” Yugyeom sighs. You shoot him a glare, and he returns the gesture with a sleepy smile that extinguishes your urge to smack him.

“Hey,” you wrinkle your nose. “Since when is it ‘national attack ___ day?’ For a group of guys, you sure are babies.”

Jackson gasps. “Shit, she’s Jinyoung in female form.” He shakes BamBam by the shoulders. “We can’t let them meet. They’ll be too powerful.”

“You’re so whiny,” Yugyeom says sharply. All eyes fly to him. He shrugs. “They’ll be too powerful.”

“Oh shit,” BamBam snorts, moments before Jackson shoots up and charges for the younger boy. Yugyeom flounders away in time to run away. You dodge the sheet of sand sent your way with a prepared duck and watch the two sprint up the beach. “Tragic,” Mark comments as Yugyeom stumbles face-first into the sand and Jackson hops on top of him to choke him in a headlock.

“Well, that’s my queue to go,” you quip, patting around for your crumpled tee shirt, finding it, and pulling it over your head. “This was fun. We should do it again sometime.” Shaking the sand out from your blanket, you become startlingly aware of the sudden silence hanging over the four like fog. You realize before Mark even speaks up that, chances are, this will be a regular thing.

He hesitantly says, “Well, I was thinking… maybe we could—”

“Yes. I know what you’re gonna say. I don’t think Jinae would mind hanging out, either. Anyway, I feel like I’ve known everyone for years, and the teasing is kind of fun,” you say, cutting him off. You return the smile he tries to hide before swinging your bag over your shoulder and waving to the others. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“Wait!” Youngjae yelps. You watch with wide eyes as he jumps up and gives you a warm hug, encasing his arms around you only for a moment but still long enough for your heart to warm. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you smile, patting his cheek and waving once more to BamBam and Mark. You start up looser sands when Jackson finally separates from Yugyeom after shoving him once more into the sand for good measure. “Careful you don’t kill him!” You shout over, watching with a laugh as the older boy whips his head up like a dog summoned by the shaking of the treat bag.

“Are you leaving?” He shouts, bouncing away from Yugyeom and jogging to you. Abs. “Yeah,” you say once he has reached you. “A shower is calling my name.”

“Are we hanging tomorrow?”

Looking to the three still lying out a few yards away, you shrug. “I’ll be here. Who knows with Jinae, though. Sometimes she gets bored of beachin’ every day.”

“Oh, well, whatever you guys decide to do, we’ll be here,” Jackson grins sinfully, slapping your arm before walking away. Of course you couldn’t have gotten a hug from him. “Keep your eyes out for the baby!” He suddenly calls, and you twist around to dumbly watch the tanned boy return to his friends. Your heart is suddenly beating loudly in your ears, and your internal fire only intensifies when said baby whines, pulling you into his chest, “Why are you leaving?”

Sucking in a necessary breath, you practically fall limp against Yugyeom’s hold, pressing your cheek against his chest but turning away from his friends in fear that they’re looking. “I want to shower. And eat. Plus, I have some dramas to catch up on.” At this he leans back, gazing down at you peculiarly. You’re painfully aware that his arms are still looped around your waist. He’s just a touchy guy, you tell yourself as he continues to groan like a child denied what he wants. “We could get food together.”

“Don't fret; I'll be back tomorrow,” you offer, satisfied when his lips quirk up and the corners of his eyes crinkle. “And probably all the days after that. Also, when school starts, I bet we’ll all be hanging together. We have plenty of days to get food.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He smiles, his expression soft. Then he pulls you in for another hug. “Text me when you get home.”

Flustered, heart beating frantically, you choke out, “I don’t have your number?” Grunting in realization, Yugyeom reaches for your phone in your hand. You watch with a held breath as he tries each of your fingers for the correct fingerprint scan until it unlocks. He goes into the Messages app and puts in a new number. “You do now,” he smiles, irises reflecting gold specks. He hands your phone back, and it’s not until you cross both arms over your chest that you notice the goosebumps painting your skin. “Thanks,” you force, spinning on your heels and making way for the sandy walkway up the dunes.

“Come back to the grill tomorrow with Mark and Jinae!”

“I will!” You shout back, not daring to look back for fear that the tall boy will make your heart hurt more, in a way that it most certainly should not. You sigh and concentrate on the sand dried on your feet rather than how you hope he will decide to crash on your beach blanket again tomorrow.

“Pussy,” Jinae taunts as you crash onto her mattress. You struggle to stretch your leg out far enough to give her bare ass a feeble kick as she changes out of her uniform. Scoffing, you tumble to lie on your stomach, twirling a strand of recently washed hair in between your fingers. “Like you’re any better. I just met him today while you and Mark have been galloping around each other like eighth graders since summer started.”

“Touché,” Jinae says, accepting defeat. She tightens the strings of her sweatpants before thumping down on the bed to be beside you. The bed dips as she rolls to curl her form around your own. “I bet you’ll both be in love with one another by Saturday.”

You laugh and wrap your arm around her shoulders, running your fingers through her dark corkscrew curls, the only thing she fully acquired from her mother’s genes. “You and Mark already are in love. You just refuse to act on it.”

“Yeah, whatever, I don’t wanna talk about him.”

Sighing, you tug harshly on a curl. “It’s gonna happen this week. You and Mark will be official.”

“Mhm,” she hums, smirking. “And so will you and Yugyeom, Miss We-Practically-Fucked-In-The-Ocean.”

“Stop,” you whine. You retract your arm and drape it over your face, shielding the burn that is creeping its way up. “Seriously, though,” Jinae giggles, tugging at your elbow. “I can’t believe you met each other today. The attraction was unbelievable. Chemistry classes across the world are quaking.”

“Shut up.” Groaning, you roll away from her relentless probing. “Listen, he’s cute. Really cute and yeah, sure, we got along great. But who said that I’m ready to date again? And you don’t even know if he would be interested.”

“You could always ask Mark,” Jinae says as you struggle off her bed, leaving her sprawled out alone. “Double dates!”

“Yeah, sure, Jinae. Keep dreaming.”

She pouts. “You’re no fun,” she huffs, reaching for her phone. “Get out, it’s almost two-thirty, and we have to get up soon.”

“Can’t we skip the jogging for one day? Sleep in? No one wants to see the literal ass crack of dawn,” you yawn. Folding your hands in prayer, you beg her to give you a break for one day. Jinae ponders it for a moment, rubbing her bottom lip with her index finger, before an open-mouthed grin evilly lights up her features. “Sure.”

Squinting, you waggle an accusing finger at her while slowly backing out of her room. “I don’t trust you. Try anything, Kim Jinae, and your ass is out on the street!”

“You can’t kick me out!”

“Yes, I can!” You shout, finally allowing your grin to show once you have closed her door.

Maybe some days are just a tad more joyous than others.

105 notes · View notes

ogbellarke · 6 years ago

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(i took this from @ vesselofink on ig)

this was supposed to be a 'work on your wip and answer a question a day' type thing, but we'll instead use these questions to distract us from our wips!

1. what is your current word count? around 34k

2. what’s the basic summary of your wip? a girl discovers she’s an enhanced human after her father is murdered so she joins a secret group that is after those who killed her father and who plan kill more like her.

3. what is your title? calling the cavalry :)

4. who’s your favourite character? how are they introduced? my favs are the core five lol they’re all written to be likeable. and they’re all introduced in the first three chapters.

5. your favourite ship in your wip? the romantic subplot and the secret couple, don’t wanna spoil lol

6. what’s the biggest mistake your mc has ever made? i’m actually not sure yet, i’m not too deep in backstories yet but she’s an icon in the present

7. what/who inspired you to write? my very first work was inspired by a dream that wouldn’t leave me alone. but for this work, it was actually that taylor lautner movie where he finds out his parents aren’t his real parents and he has to go on the run with lily collins from a bad organization lol

8. most underrated character? her name is noa cantillo and if i ever publish, she’ll be considered the most underrated, i’m sure of it.

9. favourite lines? with or without context. “we still have too much life to live.” “even drunk you talk like a scientist.” “don’t think this means anything.” “i like jello.” “don’t tell me i’m going soft again just because i’m proud of you.”

10. create a moodboard/aesthetic for your mc. first one for my main, savannah and second one for the wip itself

11. what is your mc’s fondest moment? when she graduated and walked across the stage as her dad whistled and clapped louder than anyone with the biggest smile on his face.

12. songs that remind you of your wip and/or favourite characters? young god by halsey, somewhere only we know by keane, nothing’s gonna hurt you baby by cigarettes after sex

13. do you enjoy torturing your characters? lol no omg but sometimes it’s necessary.

14. what is your mc most afraid of? oblivion, disappointing her dad, failure to bring an end to the bad guys

15. secret talents of your characters? with the enhanced beings that most of them are, they have a faster metabolism, super speed and strength, skin pliability, and quicker regeneration. but idk about like legit secret talents yet

16. if your book had the opportunity to be turned into a media, would you take it? who would be casted as who? oh fuck yes omg that’s what’s keeping me going--the possibilty of a movie. and laurel thoma, xavier serrano, marina laswick, tessa thompson, and michael b jordan are my core 5 face claims so

17. what are some basic moral and general beliefs your mc has? she’s an atheist, first of all. she believes in second chances. she has a real good moral compass and always fights for what’s right and for those who cannot protect themselves

18. how did your characterws find out the tooth fairy doesn’t exist? savannah found out at 14 when her dad decided she was old enough. kit was a foster kid so he never got that experience. same with tate. heidi woke up to her mom putting a loonie under her pillow at 9 and was traumatized. and grey decided at 5 that he was too old for that ‘baby stuff’.

19. which character of yours has the best name? oooo, i love my main girl savannah natalia moreno (fun fact her first name was orginally natalia but 20k words in i decided i liked savannah better.) but arlington samuel reed and beckett alfred greystone are also winners lol

20. who is your least favourite oc? the villain lol gotta read to know who that is

21. teaser! post a snippet of your wip. here’s a three paragraph entry to learn how no-bullshit my main sav is :)

Grey turned to her, standing up straight with his arms crossed. If Sav were honest with herself, she’d admit the guy kind of scared her. “Excuse me,” he began with a low voice, “I'd like to advise you to watch your tone.”

She understood how vital Grey was here, but he was no authority figure of hers, and ever since she was little, her father taught her not to let people walk all over her. She was emotional, and she spoke her mind when she got upset.

“Excuse me, but I saw my father killed in front of my own eyes, I was chased from my home in freaking sweatpants, shot at, picked up by strangers, shot at some more, and now I'm told I’m being targeted by some secret organization that's been out to kill me since birth! I think I'm entitled to a bit of leeway right now, don't you?”

22. what are some representations your wip has? (gender, lgbt, poc, disabilities, etc) of the 12 main characters, 6 of them are women, 9 of them are lgbtq+, 8 of them are poc, and as for disabilities--there’s a character with half-deafness, one with a prosthetic arm, and another with a prosthetic leg. also the main character has ptsd.

23. is your wip a stadnalone or part of a series? honestly, it could be a series if i got my shit together. i’ve written two endings already, one of which closes it completely, the other opens it to a sequel so we’ll see

24. which character goes through the biggest change throughout the story? def the main girl. she starts out as a regular college student and ends so strong and powerful.

25. who knows about your wip or interest in writing? do they help/support you? only my fam and a few friends know about my writing at all, but as for this book, my girl @harpermiller who i love very much lets me rant and send snippets and ask questions all the time

26. annoying habits your characters have? heidi is a know it all, kit is almost annoyingly loving, tate is real closed off and even those closest to her don’t know much about her, grey doesn’t let his emotions show which makes it hard for people to help him.

27. what’s the last three lines you wrote for your wip? with or without context. no context!

Sav supposed this was their now or never moment. She knew she loved Kit Torres--she just didn't know in what way. Sometimes it felt completely platonic, other times Kit would give her a look that grew butterflies in her stomach.

28. are any characters based off people you know in real life through looks, personality, or habits? i suppose tate is kind of like a side of me no one knows. and kit gives me grant ward vibes sometimes. but other than that, no.

29. what’s a ship that could never happen in your wip? who and why? almost anyone with grey because he’s their leader and mentor.

30. what’s your goal word count? like 60-100k honestly i just wanna finish it lol

tag 5 peeps to keep it going. pick a wip and get crackin: @nillle @harpermiller @trashy-greyjoy @biondebeauties @holy-captain

#tag games #i wrote this on my laptop so sorry for any spelling mistakes lol

6 notes · View notes

sunyoonandstars · 6 years ago

Text

BLACK AS INK || BTS MAFIA! AU series || chapter 1: lachesism

lachesism n. the desire to be struck by disaster

Families

Onyx Snake Clan 🖤 | Blue Reapers 💙

Pairings

You 🖤 x Taehyung 💙 polyamorous relationship

You 🖤 x Yoongi 🖤 polyamorous relationship

You 🖤 x Hoseok 🖤 one-sided

Jimin 🖤 x Jungkook 💙

➜ BLACK AS INK Masterlist with further information on characters & relations, prompts/quotes, and related moodboards

angst, smut, fluff

! Warnings ! mention/use of weapons, (mentions of) blood & injury, mentions of drinking/alcohol abuse

Word count 3.399

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❝ Taehyung took one look at you, and he knew. That he had come across a kindred spirit. That he had found his soulmate.

And now all he had to do was make you his. To brand you. To let the whole world see you belonged to each other.

Those were the thoughts racing through his mind as Taehyung surrendered to his animal instincts, his hungry lips making their way down your neck towards your collarbone, leaving a handful of deep red marks, the sight of them, blossoming on your pale skin in the blue neon light, exhilarating. Even your scent was entrancing, working its black magic on his senses, and you were all he could see, all he could feel, as the dark electronic beats kept drumming to the rhythm of his pounding heart ...❞

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Synopsis

People can’t choose what kind of life they are born into. What kind of family. Neither could you.

You had always known of your father’s ties to the Mafia. In fact, he was the leader of one of the most powerful families this city had ever seen. They call themselves the Onyx Snake Clan and are known for their sharp minds and calculating mercilessness when it comes to doing business. They aren’t the most powerful clan roaming the streets of Seoul for no reason, after all.

Their only rivals are the Blue Reapers, a clan run by a family of ruthless killers who stop at nothing to get what they want.

You, however, had led an insignificant, peaceful existence, living your days in a world of banality, far away from any kind of trouble, not wanting to have anything to do with your family’s business. At your own father’s discretion, for the sake of your health and sanity, you had remained hidden in the shadows, always on the move, forced into solitude. A ghost. Untouchable.

All of that changes, though, when an unfortunate incident shakes both families to their very foundations and endangers the status quo that had kept the streets from being bathed in blood up until now.

Suddenly, you come into play, being thrown right into the middle of it all, required to play a role you aren’t quite willing to take on …

And then, of course, to further complicate matters, there’s the mysterious Yoongi to whom you lost your heart at first sight but who hasn’t been entirely honest with you …

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A/N: This is Chapter 1 of a series. I previously posted the Prologue to it and would strongly advise you to read it and have a look at the related material (moodboards, quotes etc.) before reading this chapter, in case you’re new to the series.

Also: This is the playlist I created and listen to while working on this story. It has a kind of dark, surreal ‘80s Arcade Game’ vibe to it which really fits the story, in my opinion, especially this chapter.

CHAPTER 1 | LACHESISM

lachesism n. the desire to be struck by disaster

Eight months earlier …

Tonight was one of those nights that called for a decent hangover. There wasn’t even a particular reason for you to get drunk, or rather too many to list them all. You just knew you needed alcohol in your bloodstream. And lots of it at that.

Already slightly tipsy – a condition owed to your consumption of half a dozen cans of cheap, strawberry-flavored convenience store Prosecco – you stumbled into the 'Balthazar', currently one of Seoul’s most popular nightclubs. You had expected to be left standing in the cold, vainly waiting to be let into the venue for hours. Once again, however, and to your never-ceasing surprise, you were let in for free, no questions asked, by the hunk of a man acting as tonight’s bouncer.

„Thanks,“ you winked at him in passing, hoping his leniency was owed to your more or less decent looks and not the fact that he might know of your blood ties to the Onyx Snakes.

How could he, though? No one knew. You were a nobody. And that’s precisely what you were supposed to be.

The lovechild of a doomed relationship. Your existence a crime in itself in the eyes of a dangerously high number of people. Deserving of everything that had been done to you even though you had no choice in being born into this world in the first place.

No. Not tonight, you shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the bloody images already haunting your every night’s sleep since the incident more than twenty years ago. No need to surrender your waking thoughts to them as well. Not tonight, you swore yourself. Tonight, you were not the daughter of Kim Jongsu.

Tonight, you're free, Y/n. Tonight is yours and yours alone. And you're gonna make the best of it, spend it as if it's your last.

Shortly after entering the gloomy cave of lust and sin that the 'Balthazar' was, you were encompassed by the deep, humming beats of electronic music sounding from the club’s main floor and the familiar odor of sweat, booze and the fumes created by multiple fog machines doing a hell of a job in creating an almost ridiculously theatrical, dark and mysterious atmosphere.

Drawn in by the crowd’s energy, you let the heaving sea of anonymous bodies carry yours away, giving in to the imponderable force of wantonness and drunken ecstasy.

Quickly, the concepts of time and space became foreign to you. The booming music and its intoxicating sensuality clouded your senses, sending every fiber of your being vibrating with the rhythm of the night. And you didn't fight it off, the daze, the enchantment, but instead relished your drunken carelessness, readily surrendering all remains of control. Sweating, laughing, eyes closed, completely oblivious of your surroundings, you kept on swaying your body to the cadence of the beats buzzing through the air and, slowly but surely, taking over your limbs entirely.

Men, as well as women, kept on handing you free drinks, asking you to dance with them, touching you and being touched by you. In the flickering lights of this dark underworld, nothing was taboo and anything seemed possible.

For the first time in months, you felt you could breathe freely. In this distorted version of reality that was no more tangible than a blurry dream, you finally felt real again. Here, where not only you were a nameless stranger, but everybody was and everybody craved to be. Here, you felt sheltered.

Before you knew it, your arms were wrapped around a stunningly beautiful stranger’s neck, your lips kissing his, hungrily, desperately, as if there was no tomorrow. Only briefly and reluctantly did you break the kiss to take another look into his bottomlessly deep, dark, cat-like eyes that had initially drawn you in. They were partly hidden by long, ash blonde bangs. Nonetheless, their fiery fierceness rendered you powerless, pulled you right down into their simmering wells, his inky orbs never once relinquishing the hold they had on you.

But not only his eyes were intriguing. This entire man was an enigma to you. Everything about him was vague and contradictory, the walls surrounding his true core seemingly impenetrable. Usually, you were quite quick on the uptake when it came to deciphering people. But with him, you were at a loss. He was much different from the men you had encountered so far and only allowed you to see what he consciously let on.

Despite his obvious cunning, his feline eyes and flowing movements reminiscent of that of a wily fox, he had an almost disturbingly innocent air about him. At the same time, though, his soul seemed utterly tainted, broken somehow, in a few places at least. There was undoubtedly a dark spot on his aura. Someone or something had stained him. And the darkness was eating away at his heart. So much you could tell by only having one look into the fathomless pools of his ravishing eyes.

And, as if he wasn't already enough of a puzzle to you, Fox Guy changed gears so quickly, you could barely keep up with him. One minute, he was this sensual, entrancing Prince of Darkness, swaying his slender hips in ways that caused you dizzy spells. And the next minute, he handled himself with downright childish insouciance, flailing about boisterously, sporting that endearingly boxy smile of his and paying no mind to his surroundings, apparently not caring what other people might think of him as long as he could just get you to laugh, a broad smile curving his rosy lips in between sloppy kisses whenever he succeeded.

“What’s your name?“ you eventually asked, short of breath, after what must have been about an hour of exchanging fervent kisses.

“Sorry, but I don’t think I can tell you,” Fox Guy shouted back at you without wavering, laughing as if all of this was just one big joke to him.

“Wow. I should’ve known,” you muttered, more to yourself, avoiding the pretty stranger’s soul-piercing gaze as you now detached yourself from his body to turn on your heel and leave.

A sudden surge of disappointment had taken a sharp grip on your heart. With just a few words, this strange man had burst your bubble and allowed reality to seep back into your mind in merciless, ice-cold waves, rapidly washing away the remnants of tonight's rapture.

You should have known. You really should have known by now.

“Hey! Hey!” you heard Fox Guy call after you but kept on heading straight for the exit, not even considering to take another look as burning tears started blurring your vision.

Of course not. Of course, he wouldn’t tell you his name. Just like you wouldn’t tell him yours. Couldn’t tell him yours. Because you were condemned to lead an anonymous existence. A prisoner of solitude for the rest of your pathetic life. Not even another meaningless one-night stand would be able to fill the void that had made itself at home in your chest over the years. A fact you were, once more, made painfully aware of by this beautiful man who you were, in all likelihood, never going to see again. Maybe you should have thanked him before you left. For ridding you of the illusion of a normal life with the possibility of something resembling happiness before you had a chance to become too taken with it.

You had almost reached the 'Balthazar's' front door when a strong hand suddenly got a hold of your wrist and yanked you backward, whirling you around. Gasping for air, you found yourself back where you had come from, in Fox Guy's arms which wrapped themselves tightly around your waist, pulling you so close they barely left enough room for you to breathe, let alone free yourself from his grasp. If you had wanted to.

"Took you long enough," you grinned, biting his lip before you kissed it once more.

“Where did you think you were going?” he growled close by your ear, his low, rich voice sending shivers down your spine. "Did you really think I would just let you leave?"

Only shortly did he bring about an arm’s length’s distance between your sweaty bodies to lock eyes with you, the expression in his an entirely different one than mere seconds ago, much more tenebrous, lascivious, before he lowered his heart-shaped lips onto your neck, covering your skin with wet kisses and burning marks.

And this was when you knew.

You were lost.

Never before had Taehyung encountered a woman more captivating. Usually, his heart and mind were somewhat fickle, not easily touched and much less captured by any woman or any thing or person for that matter. And then you came along and made it seem so easy, seizing his soul ever so effortlessly, probably unaware of the power you already had over it.

Taehyung's unsuspecting eyes had first lit on you less than an hour ago, spotted your figure on the dance floor, your penetrating gaze, revealing wisdom far beyond your age, searching the crowded room for something or someone it couldn’t seem to find. Your presence magnetized him instantly. From that moment onward, there was no use in even trying to resist the pull you had on him.

You hadn’t even told him your name yet. Still, Taehyung couldn’t help but feel like he knew you. Like he had known you all his life. Like you were the last missing piece needed to fix his shattered heart.

Something about you just felt oddly familiar. As if this wasn't the first time your paths had crossed.

Taehyung had watched you from afar for a while, had observed your interactions with his potential competitors, both male and female and equally enamored with you. He didn't feel threatened, though, by their feeble attempts at winning you over, well aware that none of them were actually worthy of you. The language your knowing glances spoke seemed to be foreign to these people. They just didn’t get you. They had a diamond on their hands but treated you like an ordinary rock, blind to your true value, to the treasures your soul held. But he saw. He saw right through you.

Taehyung took one look at you, and he knew. That he had come across a kindred spirit. That he had found his soulmate.

And now all he had to do was make you his. To brand you. To let the whole world see you belonged to each other.

Soon, Taehyung could sense your body respond, your reaction only encouraging him to push further.

Arching your back, pressing your core against his, you buried your hands in his hair, pulling at it to get him to face you again so you could find his lips in another long, urgent kiss that quickly grew deeper, becoming sloppy, more fervent by the second.

In this sinister den of lust and dance, there were no laws, no limitations. It was as if the two of you had been plunged into an alternative reality in which you were the only souls left alive. Invincible and untouchable. With you by his side, the worldly troubles eating away at Taehyung’s peace of mind seemed to have vanished. Suddenly, they were meaningless. His father. The raging gang war. His sister’s blood on his hands. All of it didn’t matter anymore. As long as he could only feel you. As long as you were by his side.

You were like a drug to him. Each of your touches and movements, your mere presence, clouding his senses, distorting his perception of the world around him. And he couldn't get enough of it.

Taehyung could hear your soft moans even across the music as you now opened your lips for his tongue to enter, a sound that could only mean you were finally ready to yield and drop the walls surrounding your heart and mind –– a realization filling him with pride and leaving him longing for more, for your affirmation. You didn’t exactly seem like the kind of woman that would lower her guard and give herself to just anyone. So, the very instant he heard you moan for him for the first time, Taehyung swore to himself, he would do anything to witness it just once more. And to protect you from whatever it was that forced you to keep up your barricades.

It didn't take long for your bodies to be perfectly in sync with each other and the rhythm of the psychedelic music. Excitement and arousal sent blazing waves of adrenaline and endorphins rushing through your boiling blood, clouding your minds with the yearning for each other and the satisfaction only the other one’s touch seemed to be able to provide. Each gesture, each kiss, each thrust of the hip only fueled the flames quickly burning through every cell of your beings, setting Taehyung’s skin on fire and yours as well, he was sure. Your thirsty kisses and salacious dance moves left no doubt in his mind that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

“Let’s get out of here," he breathlessly whispered into your ear, using the chance to plant a gentle kiss on your neck.

You nodded in approval without any trace of hesitation, clinging to his almost entirely unbuttoned silk shirt as Taehyung eagerly made his way through the crowd towards the rear exit, repeatedly looking back at you over his shoulder to make sure you were still with him. Every time your eyes met, your reddened lips, slightly swollen from the countless kisses you had shared, curved into a dreamy smile that sent his heart racing.

This was more than just lust, Taehyung then realized, awestruck. This was different from what he had felt for other women. This was … more. You were exceptional. And, tightening his grip on your hand, Taehyung swore to himself that he would never let you go again. Not ever, come what may.

To your own horror and surprise, you followed this perfect stranger who wouldn’t even give you his name without wavering. It was not like you had much of a choice, though. You were entirely under his spell. Powerless. Charmed by the aura that surrounded him and the ageless profundity that seeped out of his pitch-black, feline eyes. Holding onto his hand like a lost child, you stayed by his side as Fox Guy cleared a pathway through the dancing crowd, headed for a quiet side corridor where the two of you were greeted by three serious-looking men in identical black suits.

“They’re okay. They’re with me," Fox Guy explained as he took note of your worried glances towards the clearly visible bulges in their jackets, most likely caused by holstered guns.

“Don’t think too much of it. The guards are only a precaution," he went on, interlacing his fingers with yours for reassurance, giving you a small smile.

What kind of man is this guy that he needs to be protected by armed bodyguards?, you couldn’t help but wonder. Given your history, however, nothing really surprised you anymore at this point. You had seen it all. Rape, robbery, murder. Grown men sobbing on their knees, pleading for their lives in vain, and women slaughtering each other in front of innocent children. This was nothing compared to your previous experiences with gunmen. Fox Guy was probably just some rich kid whose father had meddled in the affairs of the wrong sort of people. And those guards looked rather harmless compared to the ones you used to be surrounded by back in the day. By the looks of it, they were nothing more but a bunch of mindless thugs. Henchmen, hired guns, only concerned with their next paycheck. Having come to that conclusion, you were almost ready to abandon all your concerns and give in to the temptation, leaving your common sense behind and trusting this stranger blindly for the sake of a pleasurable night.

That was until another man stepped out of the shadows, his features soft, feigning innocence, yet speaking of a grim doggedness that sent a cold shiver down your back. A scar, almost invisible, stretched across his left cheekbone, telling of battles won, and a gelled lock of black hair fell deep down into his boyishly handsome face, covering a set of furrowed brows.

His presence was much different from that of the remaining guards, intimidating, even though his frame was smaller than that of the others and he must have been of the same age as you, maybe even younger. Still, there was something dangerous about him. A fire burning behind his chocolate orbs. Rage. Pure anger that made him unpredictable. A loose cannon.

His gently rounded doe eyes narrowed into piercing slits at the sight of you, and you could tell his muscles grew tense. This man was ready to fight.

"Who's she?" he spat out the words, not taking his gaze off of you.

"She's with me, Jungkook. Don't scare her off, please."

“Thought you should know you have a tail, though,“ Jungkook hissed at Fox Guy through clenched teeth, not backing down just yet, his glance remaining fierce, fiery almost, and still fixed on you. “One of those Onyx rats has been lurking over there in a corner the whole time, watching you. Now he’s on the move, headed our way.”

Onyx rat.

Your heart skipped a beat at his remark that could only be referring to your 'family'. Well, your father’s family anyway.

Petrified, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of memories and feelings this mere mention of the Onyx Snake Clan let well up within you, you tried your best not to be too obvious.

“No! Don’t look back. He can not, under any circumstances, see your face," Fox Guy called out when you were about to take a peek at your pursuer. His wide-eyed expression speaking of genuine fear, he squeezed your hand so tightly it hurt, his gaze pleading.

“Okay, okay. I'm not gonna look, promise," you were barely capable of mumbling in response.

“Good. Because being seen with me by people like him will put you in grave danger," he said, now avoiding your gaze, sadness casting a shadow over his beautiful features. A pain so grave it stung your heart.

“Well, maybe it’s her he’s after," you now heard Jungkook growl close to your ear, so unexpectedly you froze in shock instead of fighting off the arm he now put across your chest, trapping you in his viselike grasp. "Maybe they're working together, Taehyung. You ever thought of that, huh?"

Trying to stay calm, you cursed yourself for having been so inattentive and allowing yourself to be put in such a compromising position. You should have noticed Jungkook move, should have sensed him coming up right behind you – before he had pressed what appeared to be a knife to your bare throat. You were better than that. Allowing Fox Guy to distract you –– Your father would have been so disappointed. A thought that made it so much harder for you to keep your instincts in check and not end this scar-faced Bunny Boy right then and there, or at least make a decent attempt at it.

Fox Guy, whose name appeared to be Taehyung, let go of your hand as soon as he realized the gravity of the situation. Mouth agape, he slowly stepped back, staring at his armed companion in disgust.

“Kookie, what the hell? What do you think you’re doing? Let her go! Right now.”

Doing your best to take deep, steady breaths and pacify your heavily pounding heart, you remained motionless in Jungkook’s chokehold, feeling the cold, sharp edge of his weapon nick your skin when you swallowed a little too hard.

It’s okay. I’m okay, you attempted to let Taehyung know with your glances, your eyes staying locked with his while he took a cautious step towards you and his rogue guard, all of a sudden suspiciously calm.

“Jungkook. I'm only gonna say this one more time. Let. Her. Go”, he slowly spoke, his voice confident and imploring, as if he was talking to a wild animal. “She didn’t do anything. She wasn't even the one to approach me. It was me. I was the one who asked her to dance, not the other way around. And if she really wanted to harm me, she could have done so right then and there, in the middle of the dance floor. This place is packed. Nobody would have even noticed. Seriously, Jungkook. Drop it. She’s just a girl.”

Even though you only reluctantly admitted it to yourself, his last words stung you, leaving you with the bitter aftertaste of disappointment. Your reaction didn’t seem to go unnoticed by Taehyung.

“Well, that came out wrong," he made an awkward attempt at an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. But … you get what I mean, right?”

You nodded. An act that was proven to be a mistake by Jungkook’s blade now cutting even further into your flesh. You could feel a hot fluid run down the side of your neck towards your décolleté. Blood, you assumed. The cut must have been deeper than you thought.

“Jeon Jungkook, you’re going too far. Stop it at once. It’s enough. Put. The knife. Down.”

The second he had seen the blood stain the collar of your shirt, a fervid fury had taken over Taehyung's angelic features, blazing behind his piercing eyes with power so raw, it sent a shiver down your spine. In all his beauty there seemed to be no place for anger. It didn't suit him. Or at least it shouldn't have. But, somehow, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the tip of the iceberg and that there was a lot more where this was coming from. That you had merely gotten a first, fleeting glimpse at the darkness hiding behind that flawless façade of his. This Taehyung was no man to play games with.

"Besides," he continued, his tone shockingly placid. "You are wasting valuable time here, Jungkook. While you are harassing this innocent woman, that Onyx Snake is gaining on us. So you better let her go so we can get the hell out of here."

A few more seconds passed until Taehyung apparently won the staring contest with his militant sidekick, the blade was being removed from your throat, and Jungkook stepped back, setting you free. Exhaling the breath you had held in for what felt like an eternity, you stumbled away to bring a safe distance between yourself and your captor. Taehyung was by your side almost immediately, hesitant to touch you.

“I’m so sorry this happened. Jungkook is not usually not like this, I swear”, he said, darting a knifelike glare across your shoulder at his belligerent companion. “Are you okay? Here, let me see that.”

Carefully he brushed aside your hair to get a better look at the damage done by his associate's unusually sharp-edged weapon.

“Shit. I’m so sorry," Taehyung slowly shook his head, wincing when he pulled back his hand as if he had just burned his fingertips on your skin.

“I would offer to take you to my place if you still wanted to," he continued, gnawing at his lower lip that you still wanted to kiss so desperately. “There, I could fix you up with a bandage. And we could be alone. Without all … this.”

Without even looking, he pointed at his guards who were still standing by, apparently ready to shoot and kill just about anyone who dared to as much as lift a finger against Taehyung. Slowly, you began to question your earlier assessment of his background. Maybe this man wasn't as innocent as you had first assumed.

“You’d probably be safer there since we can't be sure if that guy saw your face or not. But after what just happened, I’d understand if all you wanted was to get the fuck away from me. If I were you, I’d probably run for my life. You must think I’m — Hell, even I don’t know what to think of myself anymore”, he scoffed, laughing a brief, awfully hollow laugh. “I’m sorry. I'm sorry I put you in danger. You’re free to go.”

With a wave of his long-fingered hand, the guards stepped aside, clearing a path for you to leave as Taehyung already turned away, averting his face.

“What are you waiting for? Toddle off," you could hear Jungkook grunt from behind you.

But you weren’t just going to take the easy way out. What you were about to do was probably foolish and most likely highly dangerous. Because, if this guy was indeed being tailed by the Onyx Snake Clan, there was no way in hell he was good news. Still, there was just something about him that made you throw caution to the wind and forget about the risks. Somehow, you were convinced that this Taehyung was not a bad person, and for reasons not yet known to you, he was in just as much pain as you were. A prisoner of a destiny he had not chosen for himself. Alone, drowning, very much like you.

Tonight, the two of you needed each other, and that was a fact.

So, instead of turning your back on this gorgeous stranger with his infinitely sad eyes, you took a step closer, gently placing your palms on each side of his face as you stood before him.

“But what if I don’t want to go?”

Your words led his eyes to shoot up in surprise, and even you were astounded by the solemn steadiness of your voice as you continued to speak with utmost conviction.

“Take me with you. I don’t care where. I’m not gonna leave you tonight.”

END OF CHAPTER 1 || TO BE CONTINUED

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