#i think i’m going to be wearing dresses literally all summer. that’ll be all i have. i didn’t get rid of any of my dresses (apart from one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

broadstbroskis · 4 years

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thanksgiving | jeff skinner

a/n: it’s here!!! this is like 4k that i threw together in like a week after i took it as a personal challenge from @blueskrugs after i asked why we don’t write more thanksgiving fics. a huge shoutout to her and @danglesnipecelly, for inspiration and cheering me on for this, as well as literally anyone else who’s cheered me on to finish thing, you’re all the real mvps and i love you all 💚

-----

Jeff shrugs, and from across the table filled with pizza, beer, and a bunch of other things that are most definitely not on his approved list of foods, you stare at him.

“I dunno. I don’t really have plans, I guess? Probably just sit at home, relax a little?” He says. Your jaw drops. He has...he has what now? “You're going to your parent’s right?” You nod slowly, still stuck on the fact that he’s going to sit at home and do nothing on Thanksgiving, the best of all holidays. Not spend the day with some teammates, not make a quick trip to his family, nothing. “That’ll be fun!” Jeff grins, dimples popping. “What are you-”

“You’re doing nothing?” You get out finally, the words coming back to you.

Jeff’s smile falters, but only slightly, and he nods. “Yeah? I mean, there’s no practice, no games. I’ll just…” He trails off for a second and then shrugs. “Rest.”

“You’re not going to go, like, visit your parents? They’re right across the border!”

“It’s a Thursday.” Jeff says patiently and you abruptly remember that his Canadian-ness is the whole point of this conversation.

“Thanksgiving is the best holiday! You can’t sit at home alone on it; I forbid it!” Jeff’s smile grows again as he laughs and you try and fight your own grin as you shove at his shoulders, to no avail. “Come home with me!”

“What?” He laughs again, but this time, it’s more like disbelief.

But the idea is already growing in your mind. “Come home with me! You know my parents love you, they won’t mind at all!”

“I can’t just invite myself to your Thanksgiving!” Jeff protests.

You wave him off. “You’re not, I’m inviting you! Come on, we’d love to have you!” He still looks hesitant, so you add, “Our Thanksgiving is huge anyway; one extra mouth to feed isn’t going to put anyone out, Jeff.”

“Alright.” He caves, and you grin, pulling your phone close to you to text your mom and let her know. “But ask your mom, okay? Like, really ask her, don’t just, like, tell her I’m coming.”

“Too late!” You say cheerfully, showing him the text you’d sent in your family group chat, telling them you were bringing Jeff with you next week. Your mom’s already responded with a string of happy face emojis and your younger sister with a How I Met Your Mother gif about Canadian Thanksgiving. “Be prepared for a lot of Canada jokes!”

“Is that supposed to be different than any other time I see your family?’ Jeff deadpans, but you’re pretty sure he looks like, at least 50% more relaxed, so you count this as a win and ignore him completely, already mentally planning for the best holiday of the year.

-----

The drive back home to your parents takes about an hour longer than you’d like, stuck in the same godawful traffic as everyone else trying to leave Buffalo on Wednesday so that they can get back home in time to go out that night.

When Jeff finally pulls his car up in front of your childhood home, you can already see that it’s bustling with activity, getting ready for tomorrow. Most of your siblings have already arrived- only your older brother, with his wife and daughters will come in tomorrow, with the rest of your family- but your younger brother and sister have already come home, a fact that’s even more evident when you and Jeff walk in the front door and immediately trip over three pairs of sneakers.

“Liam!” You cry, grabbing onto Jeff so you don’t fall. “Motherfucker, move your shoes!”

Your brother pops his head out of the living room, AirPods in his ears. “I’m on a call!” And just as you're marveling at the fact that your brother is a real person with a real job taking real work calls, said real person with a real job spots Jeff and lights up. “Jeff! Bro! What’s up, man?”

“I thought you were on a call.” You snap at him.

“I’m on mute.” Liam slaps his palm against Jeff’s pulling him in for a ridiculous handshake-bro hug combo, before he finally comes over and lifts you off the floor. “Yo!”

“Yo!” You repeat, honestly unable to believe you’re related to this kid. If the two of you didn’t look exactly alike, you’d probably think he was adopted. “You still coming out tonight?”

“Hell yeah, this is my last call. I’m ready to go.”

You snicker, looking down at his sweatpants and dress shirt combo- he must have taken a video call at some point today. “Yeah, okay, bud.”

He ruffles your hair, in that annoying way he’s been able to do ever since he grew taller than you. “Don’t you worry, I will be.”

You laugh, ducking under his arm, to let him get back to it. You’ve got no doubts about that. Liam’s always ready to party. “Finish your call so we can start pregaming.”

He grins, like you knew he would. “Now we’re talking.” And then he ducks back into your dad’s office.

Jeff is laughing when you look back at him and you give him a look. “What?”

“Nothing, just forgot how the two of you were when you got going.”

“Yup, and you’re stuck with us for next two days!” You grin.

Jeff rolls his eyes at you, but he’s still smiling when he follows you to the kitchen, in search of your mom. She’s at the counter, rolling dough for biscuits, her only other contribution to the annual Thanksgiving dinner that she hosts, besides the turkey; a holiday that she’d taken over hosting once it had become too much for your grandmother to handle, but only on the caveat that everyone began contributing food toward the meal. It’s been a potluck style holiday ever since.

She’s ultra-focused, the volume on her favorite playlist high (this wild mix of 80’s pop and today’s hits that’s actually kind of a banger), so you sneak up behind her and wrap your arms around her. “Hi!”

“Jesus!” Your mom jumps, elbowing you in the process, but you’re laughing too hard to care. “Don’t do that!”

“Just excited to see you!” You beam at her, squeezing her once more, before pulling away. “Where do you want the pie?” Jeff lifts the pie you’d made yesterday, showing your mom.

Your mom purses her lips, studying the kitchen around her. “Leave it on the counter for now; I’ll have your dad clear some space in the garage.” She gestures with her elbow. “Hi Jeff!”

“Hi!” Jeff pulls out his best smile, a real one, dimples super popped. “Thank you for having me-”

Your mom cuts him off before he can finish, like you knew she would. “Oh, we’re so happy you could make it! You’re welcome anytime, Jeff!” She assures him.

“Is the guest room ready?” You ask. “We’ll throw our stuff upstairs before Dad sees it at the bottom of the steps and has a fit.”

Your mom fights back a laugh at that- a statement that everyone in your family knows all too well-but then looks almost apologetic as she finishes, “It is, but we gave it to Katie.”

“Oh, Katie’s here too?” Your sister’s roommate at college was, at this point, basically another sister to you. She hardly went home for breaks within the semesters, usually came up for at least a month during the summer, and more often than not came home with Abby when she was back for anything. The “guest room” really was more like Katie’s room at this point.

“Where else would she be?” Abby appears, right on cue, with Katie right behind her, practically matching in leggings and oversized sorority shirts. “It’s Thanksgiving; she’s ready to rage tonight.”

You actually can’t wait for the babies to be hungover tomorrow-both were 21 for their first Thanksgiving Eve and you know they’re going to be in a super rough spot tomorrow-but you keep that thought to yourself.

“It didn’t even occur to me!” Your mom says apologetically. “I just gave Katie her usual room.”

“No, it’s cool. Jeff and I can share. He doesn’t mind, right?” But you barely even wait for his shrug and nod in agreement. It’s not like you haven’t before, when you’re either too lazy or too drunk to go home. You’re both adults, it’s no big. “I’ve shared a bed with you before; I’ll spare Katie the bruised shins.” You tease your sister.

Katie cracks up as Abby sputters out how rude you are. “It’s a hazard!” Katie agrees, dodging the swat your sister sends towards her. It sets the two of them off, which you take as your cue to grab Jeff’s hand and drag him (and your stuff) up to your room.

Of course, usually when you’re sharing a bed with Jeff, it’s a king sized bed, or at least a queen- definitely not the double that your parents just shoved in your old room to replace the queen bed that had been in there until you moved out and took your furniture with you. You hadn’t realized how small it was though, not until today, until the idea of actually having to share it with someone, with Jeff, who might not be a giant, but isn’t tiny. “Sorry.” You apologize, almost unsure of what you’re saying.

Jeff shrugs. “Well, at least you don’t kick.” He smiles, as then it’s like everything’s back to normal, that awkward feeling that was growing over you gone as quickly as it came.

“She’s a bruiser, don’t let her tell you otherwise.” You throw your bag down, rifling through it for the sweater you were planning to wear tomorrow, to hang it up so it isn’t too wrinkled.

Jeff laughs. “I’ll take your word for it.” He’s holding up his shirt, a button down and a tie. “Where can I hang this?”

“You can’t wear that!”

He frowns, likely at the vehemence you’d just spoken that with. “Uhh, why not?”

“You’ll get roasted.” Seriously, you’d told him it wasn’t a dressy affair. God, what part of not dressy does he think requires a tie? “Don’t you have, like, a sweater?”

“I mean, yeah, but-”

“Sweater and jeans, that’s fine.”

Jeff gives you a look. “That doesn’t seem-”

“Sweater. And jeans.” You repeat. He’ll thank you tomorrow, when your uncle doesn’t ask him when tea is. When your cousin doesn’t talk to him only in a fake British accent for the entire night.

Jeff hands over a sweater, a soft thing you’ve seen him wear on many occasions, and you smile your thanks at him, hanging it up next to yours. “Meet your standards?” He asks; you think he’s aiming for teasing but he kind of misses the mark, sounding a little more nervous than joking.

“Perfect.” He smiles back at you and you laugh. “Come on, you dork. Let’s go see what’s for dinner tonight.”

-----

“Don’t wake me up when you come in tonight!” Your dad calls, as he drops the five of you off at Mel’s, the bar for Thanksgiving Eve. Your friends are already at the bar, you’re anticipating a high school reunion for sure, and you’ve warned Jeff of this, even though he assured you that he could handle it, and he was just excited for a nice, chill night.

You’d actually laughed out loud at that. Oh Jeffrey.

“Pshh.” Liam waves your dad off. “I haven’t done that since I was like 16 and still having to sneak out.”

Your dad gives him a look. “I was talking to your sister.” He looks over at Abby, who ignores him completely, in favor of taking a SnapChat with Katie, and he sighs resolutely. You all absolutely know she isn’t listening to a word he says. “Have fun, be safe. Uber home.”

Liam salutes him. “Will do.”

Inside the bar, the night starts exactly as you and Liam have started your last few Thanksgiving Eve’s-with a round of shots at the bar as you’re ordering drinks, before splitting off to find your respective friends to start the evening.

Jeff fits in with your friends fantastically, laughing and joking around with them like he’s known them forever, even though you’re sure the only one he’s met is your oldest friend, Ashley. But he greets Ashley and her husband, Brian, like old friends, and quickly joins conversations with all your other friends, and soon hours have passed before your brother is sliding up behind you. “Heads up.” Liam mutters as he passes. “Douche at 3 o’clock.”

You tense as it takes everything in you not to turn and look over. “Hey.” Jeff nudges you, concern clear in his eyes as he looks at you, and you’re not sure what he pulled himself away from, but you must look pretty bad. “You okay?”

You nod, kinda spacily, but leaning in closer to him, and he takes the cue to curl in toward you- you’re not really interested in shouting to the entire bar and you’re really not interested in drawing attention to yourself. “Yeah, just- my ex is over there.”

Jeff purses his lips for a minute and then schools his face back to neutral. “I take it things didn’t end well.”

“No.” You say, thinking of the demise of your relationship with Dylan. “It did not.”

You hadn’t even realized that Jeff grabbed your hand until he’s squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You shake your head. “It was...definitely for the best.” It might have taken you a while to see that, but you can now, even if the rare instances you still see Dylan sometimes rattles you. “I thought I was going to marry him, at one point, but I’m so much happier here now.”

Jeff smiles. “Good.”

You squeeze his hand once more, a thanks for his comfort and care, before both of you rejoin the conversation, and you forget about Dylan entirely for the next hour, until you physically run into him coming back from the bar with another round of drinks for you and Jeff.

“Hey!” Dylan beams at you, goes right in for a cheek kiss, like you’re still that familiar, and once again you stiffen up.

“Hi.” You return politely, ready to sidestep around him and return to Jeff and your friends.

“No, wait.” Dylan steps with you, blocking your path. “I haven’t seen you in forever. Let’s catch up a minute, what’s new?”

“No offense, Dylan, but I’m not really looking to catch up with you.” You say flatly.

He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can another voice cuts in. “Everything okay here?” Jeff asks politely, stepping very purposefully next to you, and Dylan’s eyes immediately fly over to him.

“Mhmm,” You nod. “Was just on my way back to you.”

“Good.” Jeff says, in a tone far more harsh than you usually hear him take. “Let’s get back.” He positions himself again, clearing a space for you to easily slip past Dylan, and then steps closely behind you, catching up quickly.

“Thanks.” You lean against him, gently, not looking to spill either of your drinks, but Jeff solves that problem by taking his.

“Any time.” Jeff says softly and you don’t have much else to say on the matter so you just nudge him once more in thanks and walk back toward your friends with him at your side.

-----

When you wake up the next morning, you’re warm and comfortable and only a little hungover, which you count as a huge success. There’s not too much noise going on downstairs yet, which means you definitely have some more time to sleep, so you curl back into your pillow, humming contently when it pulls you in closer.

And then your eyes pop open abruptly, because pillows don’t do that.

Except they do when they look like Jeff Skinner, who looks just as soft and warm and comfortable as you feel right now, still sleeping judging by the evenness of his breath.

It’s just...it’s a really nice way to wake up, with Jeff’s kind-of smiling face, looking super soft and cozy as he breathes just on the wrong side of too loud, but not so loudly that it drives you nuts.

It’s a little too early to unpack that, and your hangover might not be that bad but it’s definitely bad enough that you’re not ready to think on that, so you close your eyes and let yourself curl into Jeff and fall back asleep.

-----

When you do finally get out of bed, Thanksgiving morning is its usual chaos, running around with last minute errands, cleaning, and helping your mom in the kitchen. The last to shower for the day, by the time you arrive downstairs, the Lions vs. Bears game is well underway, your notoriously early grandparents have already arrived, and your grandmother is already asking your mom where that one turkey decoration she bought her one year is.

You bypass the kitchen entirely and move toward the living room, where you find your dad, grandfather, Jeff, and siblings all gathered, just as you’d expected. You slide down on the floor next to Jeff, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before more of your family arrives and you’re offering your set up anyway, and wait for the next round of chaos to begin.

It doesn’t take long. Your aunts, uncles, and cousins start pouring in and then it’s just introduction after introduction, as you wrap up showing off Jeff to one group just as the next arrives. You are absolutely confident he has no idea who anyone is, but it’s fine, because he’s still laughing and joking around with all your uncles and cousins that have joined you in watching football.

The kitchen is its own brand of chaos, when you make a quick stop in on your back from a beer run, but chaos has never stopped your aunt before and it certainly isn’t today. “Oh my god!” She exclaims, after you’ve pressed a smacking kiss to the top of your grandmom’s head. “That boy!”

“What boy?” You ask, like an idiot, which is immediately clear from the looks you get from everyone in the kitchen, even your usually oblivious uncle, who’s doing...something...with the ham they’d brought. “Who, Jeff?”

“Yes.” Another aunt stresses. “He’s cute!”

You shrug. “Yeah, I mean-”

But your grandmom cuts you off this time. “And so friendly! Just the nicest boy! Oh, you couldn’t have found anyone better!” She exclaims.

“Well, I haven’t.” You announce, watching all of their faces fall. “So sorry to burst that bubble.”

“Why?” One of your older cousins frowns. “Girl. Get on that. You are not going to do better than that boy in there.”

“I truly don’t know if that was meant to be a dig at me or you all think that highly of Jeff already, but regardless. We are just friends.” Now everyone in the kitchen is giving you a look. You gather the beers and retreat, distributing them as you return to your spot on the floor near Jeff.

He’s giving you a look as you pass him his, but whatever’s on your face must not be too bad, because he just thanks you as you pass him the bottle, and you nod in return as you try to find the same comfortable spot as before, leaning against his thigh.

-----

Your dad catches you a bit later, as he’s coming back with beers this time and you’re coming out of the bathroom, and he nudges you carefully as you take a few bottles from his hand. “So Jeff?”

You groan. The tone of that statement was far too loaded. “Jesus, you too?”

Your dad laughs. “Who else?”

“Everyone.”

“Well maybe that should be your hint.” Your dad says teasingly, but also not? There’s definitely some seriousness to this. “That Jeff’s pretty perfect for you.”

You stare at him. “You’ve met Jeff, like, a hundred times. Why’s this coming out now?”

“I always thought you were my smart kid and that you’d figure it out yourself.” He muses. “Now I realize you’re only book-smart and you’d never figure this out on your own.” And then he leaves you there in the hallway, with your jaw dropped and too many thoughts, as he continues on, laughing at you.

-----

When the call to come serve yourselves echoes into the room, the usual mad scramble follows immediately. It’s only as you’re getting into line behind your brother that you realize that Jeff’s not with you anymore, and you abandon the long line waiting for food, in favor of seeking out Jeff.

You find Jeff upstairs, in your room, just kind of lounging on your bed, and you lean against the doorway. “Hey! Food’s ready.”

“Yeah.” Jeff nods, the smile he sends you back in return far too tight and forced to be genuine. “Be right down.”

But he doesn’t move, so you step in and climb into your bed next to him. “What’s wrong?”

Jeff laughs; it’s kind of hollow and doesn’t sound anything like his usual loud laugh or his giggles that you love. “What- nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Jeff.” You say softly. “Come on.”

He sighs. “Why did you bring me here?”

That...was not at all what you expected. “What?”

“Why did you bring me here?” He repeats. “Why did you bring me home, to your family? I thought, maybe, finally…” He trails off for a minute. “Except, there’s like ten other randos here too!” He laughs again, that hollow thing that you’re already hating. “Everybody in this family just brings people home, and that’s awesome, okay? Please don’t ever change that about yourself. I just-I thought we had something special, is all.” He says, sounding almost sad? Melancholy?

“You are special.” You hate this. Jeff should never be sad; he should always be happy and smiling and joking. This is worse than seeing him after losses, worse than seeing him at low points in the season, that one game when he realizes that shit’s done and they’re just playing to keep playing now, that playoffs won’t be coming this year, again. “Jeff, you’re-”

“I’m in love with you.” Jeff says and it’s so straight-up, matter-of-fact, like it’s never not been a fact for him. “And I’m sorry I’ve fucked things up here for tonight and made this so awkward. I just- being here with you and your family just made me want you that much more.”

There’s so so so much you want to say to Jeff, but it’s like time is frozen. You can’t speak, can’t move, can’t do anything except look at him in awe, until he starts to move off your bed, when you reach for him, finally, resting your hand on his thigh, relieved when he looks back at you. “My dad thinks I’m an idiot.” You blurt out and Jeff just gives you a look. “I’m sorry; that wasn’t what I wanted to say.” You take a deep breath, trying to gather the jumble of thoughts in your head. “Or at least, not the only thing. He thinks I’m an idiot because he thinks you’re perfect for me and I didn’t see it. My whole family thinks you’re perfect- cute and friendly and nice- and god, Jeff, you are! You’re all those things!” He’s still watching you, with like, barely the smallest hint of a smile on his face. “I just-didn’t realize you were perfect for me until we came here.”

Now he’s full on beaming, dimples showing, and you don’t even realize that you’re returning the grin until his hand comes up to your face, thumbing at the corner of your lip. “I’m sorry I’m a dumbass.” You finish lamely, too busy smiling at Jeff. “Please kiss me so we can make sure we get biscuits.”

Jeff hums. “I don’t know if I can kiss you now and just...stop.”

“Well I’m not going down to eat until you do.” You say stubbornly. “And you’ve been hyping up those biscuits since breakfast.”

“Fair enough.” Jeff laughs and then you’re smiling into the best first kiss you’ve ever had, tangling your hands into his hair and wondering if you may actually end up missing the meal this year.

#jeff skinner imagine #jeff skinner fanfic #jeff skinner fanfiction #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic #Hockey Fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #my hockey fics

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dokifluffs · 4 years

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Not the End | Kuroo Tetsuro

Pairing: Kuroo x Reader (female)

Genre: heart warming fluff tehe

Author’s Note: Literally one of my most favorite things I have ever written so I really hope you guys like it too~!! 🥺🥰🥰time to embrace canon kuroo and make more fluff, even if it means breaking a 4th wall or 5th wall- dedicated to haikyuu, thank you for everything

He knocked repeatedly on the door as clouds casted by in the sky, blocking out the sweltering summer sun

He wore a white oversized t-shirt with the periodic table on it and black jeans

“Where is she?” He thought to himself as he spammed your doorbell, hearing the chime echo inside yet there was no movement to be seen

He glanced at his watch seeing the time

He fortunately came early but if you didn’t come out now, the window of extra time would be shutting

He was growing just the tiniest bit antsy since he had been dreaming about this date for so long and now that it was summer and volleyball was over, he had the time

Tickets were hard to get for these museums he had planned and he had a whole day planned down to every hour

It was early in summer so it was perfect, not too scorching hot

He couldn’t wait anymore and pulled out your spare key from your flowerpot, putting it back neatly as if it was never touched

“Y/N?” He called, his strong voice echoing into what seemed like an empty house

He slipped out of his shoes and made his way upstairs, almost always finding you there if you never answered the door, his calls, or anything

Your bedroom was like your sanctum having all that you needed- an air con fan, tv, surround sound, and most importantly, your bed that you had all to yourself

approaching your bedroom, the door cracked open, he could hear the faintest sound of music playing

“Oya?” He knocked on your bedroom door as he pushed it open, relieved to find you

But he didn’t know how to feel seeing you curled up wearing his stolen hoodie, still in bed when you knew about the time for today’s events

“Hey, what’s up? We have to get to the station-“ he paused when he saw you look up to him, uncurling your face from your pillow

Your eyes were red and cheeks tear stained, matching your pillow cover that you hugged

“K-Kuroo...” you sobbed, inching yourself in your little ball form toward him as he sat on the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight

“W-what is it?” He was surprised as you laid your head on his lap

His mind went frantic as he went through your messages in his head, trying to remember if it was a certain day he missed- it wasn’t anyone that he knew of’s birthday, not an anniversary date or anything

Why were you so heartbroken?

Your eyes glistened from the sunlight in the room as you teared up once again, little wet drops forming on his jeans

“R-remember that manga and anime I was watching?” You sniffled as you sat up, your pillow in your lap and your fingers playing with the hem of it. “The volleyball one?”

“Yeah, did a character die or something?” He tried to make light of the situation and it worked, just the slightest but your emotions were getting the best of you

“No, but the last chapter of the manga came out…” tears dripped off your chin as you swallowed a hardened lump in your throat, the words aching as you spoke

listening carefully, he could hear you were listening to a slowed down version of one of the opening themes- he only knew this because of how many times you would put on the themes while riding in the car

but this was the slowed down version, or as you called it the “moonlight version,” and it was setting the mood for you, making you more sad

Kuroo remembered the day back in junior high/ end of grade school when you started following this manga about volleyball

“You need to stop listening to this, it’s just making you sadder,” he laughed awkwardly, pausing the song that was playing on loop. he knew this volleyball anime/manga meant the world to you, but not like this

Your eyes lit up when you read or talked about it to him and he asked you why not play for the girls’ team but you settled on being the manager for Nekoma instead, wanting to cheer them on and also being with kuroo and kenma and all your other close friends on the team

It made him feel like you loved the show and manga more than him sometimes and it kinda hurt since they were fictional characters and he was your boyfriend, a real life actual volleyball player

“All the characters got their story, they grew above and beyond, and the main character was finally able to make it to the world stage with his partner from the high school team and- “ your voice cracked as you spoke, the wound reopening, fresh in your chest as everything you read, everything you watched, all the glorious moments came rushing through your mind

Everything you fell in love with for the past eight years came rushing back and you loved it all so much, it made you so warm but it also hurt thinking about how there wouldn’t be any more to it

You wanted to curl into a hole and rewatch and reread everything as much as you could

No more chapters, most likely no more official arts- all you had left was the animated show that would be continuing and finishing in a couple months

“Kuroo, I don’t want it to end,” you sobbed, your hair falling, hiding your face

He didn’t miss how your knuckles turned white as you gripping your pillow, only able to imagine the heartache you were feeling

he knew very well how much this all meant to you, all the rants and extensive conversations you had with him, begging him to watch the show- especially because of a bed headed character that was just like him

you reminded him so much of kenma- you talked, read, and watched everything about this story like kenma when he got a new game or was watching hinata play volleyball

You want to see more, hear more of the voice actors, the characters growing. You want to be beside all of them and see their story to the very end

All the antics between the characters that made you break into a smile or fits of giggles, all the cheers made for the different teams in your manga/anime- all were so addicting

“Hey, shhh,” he pulled you gently into his embrace, one hand holding the back of your head, the other rubbing down your back. “I know you don’t but all good things must come to an end, right?”

He glanced at his watch just the slightest bit, seeing the time, relieved to know he still had enough

“Look on the bright side; you were able to read and watch it while it was still being made, you got to anticipate the next chapter and episode, seeing all the characters develop and become great people who’ve had such a great impact on your life.”

He pulled you back and wiped your tears away on your cheek

“This may be the end of the story, but it’s not the end for you; everything will live on inside of you, right?” He held your face in his hands, making sure his words got to you

“It won’t be the end of your life, or any of your favorite characters’. The story you were presented with came to an end but their lives are still going, just like yours.”

You buried yourself into his arms, muffling your cries into his neck as he chuckled, holding you

“Come on, get dressed and I’ll make sure all this sadness you’re feeling will go away. I’ll be the wind that’ll shift the storm cloud brewing above your head,” he stood up, still holding you and setting your feet on the ground

“I won’t let you be sad, not on my watch, chibi-chan,” he looked down to you with a smile as he pat your head. “Your body won’t even realize L-trytophan’s being converted into L-5OH-trytophan, converting serotonin by an aromatic L-amino acid decarboxylase.”

The gawk you had made him let out his hyena laugh, just hurting his pride ever so slightly that he had made one of the smoothest lines in love-history and you didn’t even swoon

“I’m gonna make happy chemical in your body make your heart go doki doki,” he put simply to which you nodded, breaking in to a laugh, calling him a nerd under your breath as you changed

But he was your nerd, and he was right

No matter where you were in life, you got to have this special manga and story in your life and experience it first-hand whereas others were missing it

Everyone lives on, even if you can’t see them

Thank you, Furudate, for bringing Haikyuu into this world <3

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

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mummybear · 4 years

Text

Getting Into Trouble

This Is Day 5 Of Roleplay May

Words: 4114

Warnings: Smut, Wall Sexy, Swearing, Dirty Talk, Rough Sex, Think That’s It :P

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, (Marie) Reader’s Best Friend (OC), Sam Winchester, Unnamed Club Bitches

Summary: Meeting your best friend Marie at your local nightclub turns out to be a more exciting night that you had originally planned. Especially when your favourite doorman is on duty and doesn’t take his eyes off of you all night. This is also for @deanwanddamons1Kfollowerchallenge So happy for you babe you deserve it :D I had the prompt ..... ‘Sometimes you need it so bad, it’s enough to drive a young girl mad.’

A cold chill whips through the summer air as you step out of the cab, quickly leaning inside the window to pay the driver. It doesn’t take long for you to approach the steps of the club, it’s a small but popular place. A place which had been quickly growing in popularity, largely thanks to the hot staff it had recently acquired, both inside and outside of the establishment. At least that’s what you had heard, however, you and your best friend Marie had been coming here for years before the change.

A small smile slips onto your lips when you spot your favourite bouncer and doorman, right at the front of the crowd standing on the very first step. He’s looking as handsome as ever, light brown hair styled just so, green eyes that are practically shining with that bad boy twinkle when he winks at you.

He’s not as wide as the other guys, but he towers over them in height. With broad shoulders that you’ve often imagined clinging to and bow legs like no other man you’d ever seen. He’s dressed simply, but god does he wear all black extremely well. Tight black t-shirt, which you know from experience has the word security printed on the back in white block letters, with what look like tailor made pants and smart black shoes.

“Hey there sweetheart, long time no see” he greets you, just as friendly and charming as ever, with a gorgeous grin that’s all perfect teeth and plump lips. He takes your ID from you, letting his fingers gently graze yours, quickly glancing at it before he hands it back.

“Yeah it’s been a while, you’re still looking real good though” you smile sweetly, the tip of your tongue poking out between your lips as your eyes rake over him, appreciating every perfect inch of that man.

“Uh, thanks” the blush that coats his freckled cheeks is so cute, you would’ve thought he was used to the compliments by now. He licks hips plump pink lips and flicks his eyes up to meet yours again. “You’re lookin’ pretty damn sexy yourself” he rasps, voice sounding a little deeper than before as he nips at his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Hopefully I’ll see you later and you’ll finally tell me your name this time” you smile back, returning his earlier wink and tucking your ID back in your bag.

“I’d really like that. Just don’t go and get yourself into any trouble. I will throw you over my shoulder this time” he warns you playfully, you don’t miss how he lets his eyes shamelessly rake over your body.

You have to practically press your body against his to get inside, what with the amount of people trying to squeeze inside all at once. You look up at him through your black lashes, giving him your best seductive look. “Oh, promises, promises Mr green eyes. I might just have to get myself into a little trouble then” you wink as he shakes his head at you, giving you a gentle shove inside.

“Go! I’ve gotta work!” he laughs, finally turning away from you.

The moment that you actually step into the club you realise just how busy it really is tonight. There’s the odd cluster of people here and there blocking your path. People that you almost have to fight your way through, as well as the idiots paying no attention and filtering in and out, being stopped by the doormen and bouncers for god only knows what reason.

The music is quite literally pumping, to the point that you can feel the vibrations under your feet. You really need a damn drink right now and the bar is completely packed. You were really happy with your outfit tonight though, choosing it hadn’t been too difficult once you’d found the right dress. It fit your body perfectly, it was black and purple and stopped a little above your knees. Luckily your heels weren’t too high, since you were definitely planning on dancing tonight, preferably without getting blisters.

You sigh defeated, seeing the size of the lines at the bar, as they continue to grow before your eyes.

Until you spot your best friend waving at you from her usual table by the bar. Relief fills you as you get ever closer, where you notice that she’s already gotten a few rounds at the table and of course she couldn’t forgo the shots. That would definitely save you the wait, meaning that you could get this night started right.

“So, I see Mr green eyes is back, he asked about you by the way,” Marie practically shouts into your ear as she pulls you into a hug.

“Yes he is and considering he works here babe, that’s not too strange” you laugh, ignoring her final comment, you pull back to look at her. “Oh and hello to you too by the way”

“Sorry love I’ll behave. Or I’ll try at least” she winks as you both take your seats. You shake your head at her with a wry smile, unable to stop the scoff falling past your lips.

“Yeah that’ll be the day, you’re worse than me!” laughing as you clink your shot glasses together, resting a hand over her heart Marie gasps. “Down the hatch, you dork!” you shout over the loud music and that fake hurt dissolves almost immediately making way for her devilish grin beneath.

Your time together is filled with conversations of mutual friends and things you’d both done since last meeting up. Not forgetting the unsuccessful dates you had both been on, Marie can’t help but remark that you’re sexually frustrated. “I dunno what you’re talking about honey, I’m fine. In fact, I’m more than fine. Me and Mr Vibrator have it very much under control” you wink when she snorts with laughter, almost choking on her drink.

“Oh that is not the fucking same Y/N! And you damn well know it!” replying through a laugh while pushing another shot towards you. You roll your eyes but you can’t help but smile at her. You’d really missed this and as usual Marie understood more than she knew. “Nothing like a good hard fucking, which you so clearly need!”

“I am not fucking some stranger! You know that’s just not me, besides who says some random guy is gonna be any good” you reason as she shrugs at your answer.

“Doesn’t have to be a complete and total stranger. We both know someone who is just dying to get into those twisted panties of yours. Pretty sure that’s a man who knows his way around a woman” she winks, nodding over to where Mr green eyes is now standing, clearly it was time for a switch around at the club, since he’d come inside with one of his buddies and was chatting about something.

“Would you drop it woman! That man is so far out of my league. So can I please just have a great night out with my girl!” you sigh pushing another shot towards her with a pout.

“Fine. I’ll drop it. But he would be lucky to get in those pants” you roll your eyes but can’t help but smile as you take your next shot, she’d always been the best wing woman going.

The drinks keep flowing, thanks to the hot barman that Marie is currently waving at, he had apparently been trying to hook up with her for a while, but she was adamant they were only friends. It doesn’t take very long for the two of you to have a steady buzz going, after around five shots each and whatever cocktails she’d ordered before you’d got there.

“I wanna dance, come on. Please” your friend pouts at you, grabbing at your hand and dragging you off in the direction of the dance floor, she doesn’t give you time to argue.

Those puppy dog eyes she gives you tends to always do the trick. Although, if you were being honest you were also in the mood for a dance, to try and get some of the pent up energy out of your system. Keeping your fingers crossed that hopefully you could stop your mind from wandering, back to that sexy green eyed doorman, which thanks to your wing woman was becoming increasingly difficult.

The music was practically vibrating through your entire body as you and Marie stepped onto the dance floor. Christina Aguilera’s Dirty had just started playing, you glance up and spot Mr green eyes across the room, he was with another doorman now, the only guy that you were aware of who was actually taller than him. To your surprise he’s looking right at you, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Marie walks behind you and grabs your hips, pressing herself tight against your back.

“What are you doing woman!” you laugh as she rests her chin on your shoulder, the two of you start to rock to the beat in time with one another, raising your arms in the air as you continue to rock back against her.

“Just go with it! He has not stopped staring at you since we stood up. Not to mention he’s with the tallest man I’ve ever seen and I’ve got the sudden urge to go man climbing”

You burst out laughing at the serious way she says that, “Want a ride on man mountain huh?” you ask still half laughing as both continue moving to the beat, Marie giggles behind you as the beat speeds up. You’re slowly becoming more distracted as you watch them both move closer, your own hands start moving over your body, keeping your eyes on him the entire time.

You drop down slowly, your ass pressing back into Marie, until you settle back on the heels of your feet, thinking back to a move in the music video for this song. You can feel the muscles of your calves and thighs tense as you lean forward slightly. Slowly sliding your hands down your thighs, stopping at your knees as you part your legs and quickly snap them shut again. Standing slowly, you keep your eyes fixed on Mr. Green eyes, whose fists are currently clenched at his sides.

You don’t notice the way that his friend is staring at Marie as you push back into her with your ass, both of you laughing as she swats at it playfully and wraps her arms around you from behind.

However, your happy moods are soon ruined when a drunk group of girls fight to get past you, the one at the front bumps into you and Marie, nearly knocking you both on your asses.

“Watch where you’re going!” she slurs shoving at your shoulders, causing you to stumble back a little unsteady on your heels.

“I’m sorry. What the hell are you talking about? You’re the one who’s clearly drunk off their ass here. You walked into us!” you shout back over the music, resisting the urge to shove her back.

“Get your bitch in line. Nobody talks to my sister like that” one of the other girls squawks, sounding like an angry bird, as they all step closer to the both of you.

“What did you just fucking call her!” Marie snaps, stepping closer to the group. Where she receives a chorus of ‘you heard’ from the group of idiots. “Get your moron sister in line then, if she can’t walk straight she probably shouldn’t be here. She’s clearly had too much and needs to get her childish ass home!” Marie responds irritation lacing her tone as she tries to reason with these people. Just about managing to dodge out of the way just in time to avoid another shove.

“Stop fucking shoving people” you practically growl, finally your control snaps, shoving back as hard as you can, sending one of the girls stumbling back into the group.

“You stupid slut!” the defender shouts, raising her fist. But she’s quickly blocked by a large body and hand that’s twice the size catches her balled up fist.

“I warned you! You’re coming with me, Miss” someone growls to your side, you recognise that voice instantly, you can’t help but grin happily. Not quick enough to move away or turn to look at him properly before he throws you over one of those broad shoulders, causing you to let out an excited scream..

Your eyes search for Marie when you hear her over the music somehow. Finding her in an almost identical position to your own. Once she’s thrown over the giant's shoulder Marie gives you a thumbs up, smacking his ass as he walks away with her. The scenery behind you bumps around, swaying awkwardly as you’re carried through several doors, clinging to the back of his t-shirt for dear life as he walks..

Another door is kicked open, where you feel the cool breeze blow across your almost naked ass.

“So, where are we going Mr. mysterious?” you question, your voice dipping with his every step.

When suddenly the back door to the club swings closed behind you with a loud bang.

A surprised noise you don’t recognise leaves your lips when he returns your earlier hit. With a harsh slap to your ass. Since apparently your dress had ridden up, it was a little more skin on skin that you’d been expecting.

You hear him chuckle, right before he tugs the bottom of your dress down and bends over, carefully lowering you until your feet touch the ground again.You look up at him with a smile when his hands grab your hips, making sure that you’re stable on your own.

Running your hands up his strong chest, your touch remains light, enjoying the way his muscles flex beneath his shirt. It’s really dark out here, with no real light. Only a few neon lights to light the alley way.

“I’m not sure that I approve of you manhandling-” your words are silenced when his plump lips suddenly press against yours, with an urgency you hadn’t expected.

Your hands fist in his tight t-shirt in an attempt to pull his body closer, while he walks you backwards and presses you into the wall. You feel his tongue brush against your lips when they part, gripping your leg tight he hooks it over his hip, rolling his hips into you. You can feel the bulge through his black pants, pressing against the front of your panties, nudging repeatedly at your clit. The way he feels against you only encourages you to rock back against him.

Your tongues finally meet and you can taste the faint whiskey that lingers there, somehow you knew he’d be a whiskey man.

Your hands move to fist in his hair, enjoying the feeling of his tongue sliding against yours and the groan that fills the back of his throat, he even manages to pull a small moan slips past your lips.

“Name’s Dean by the way” he breathes against your lips, before pulling you into another breathtaking kiss.

“Y/N. Fuck…. Dean suits you,” you reply in a breathy moan, throwing your head back against the brick wall as he starts kissing down your neck, pausing to suck and nip marks into your skin.

“Wanted to do this for so long. Getting me told off every time you come in sweetheart, can’t damn well concentrate on the job” he groans against your ear, pushing your dress up around your waist so he can grip your ass tight with those big calloused hands.

“Me too, I would say I was sorry, but I don’t wanna lie” you confess with a half-hearted giggle, gasping when his finger brushes against your soaked pussy from behind, briefly dipping under your panties.

Your hands slip between the two of you. Dean leans back a little, catching on to what you’re doing, allowing you to undo his belt while he pushes a hand between your legs. You whimper when his fingers start to run back and forth over the front of your damn panties.

Once his pants are open you shove them down those gorgeous bow legs as far as you can. Dean lets out a throaty groan when your fingers wrap around his thick hard length. Letting his forehead drop forward against yours when you start to move your hand over him, up and down, feeling the thick muscle throb against your palm.

“You’re so wet baby, can’t wait to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock” Dean whispered huskily against your lips, pushing your panties to the side, he eases two thick fingers inside you.

Your free hand clings to his bicep, looking into his eyes as your pussy stretches deliciously around his fingers. The perfect drag against your tight walls as he starts moving his fingers inside you, causing goosebumps to rise across your skin.

“Dean, fuck me. Please. I need you inside me” you whine desperately, rolling your hips down into his hand, pushing his fingers deeper.

Chuckling deep and breathy, Dean curls his fingers teasingly as your thumb swipes across the swollen tip, smearing the thick pre-come down his length.

Which triggers you both to moan into each other's mouths.

Pulling your hands away from one another, you reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, as he sucks his slick covered fingers between his plump lips. Transfixed you watch the way his tongue swirls around his fingers and he moans, keeping his darkened green eyes locked on yours. As he pulls them from his mouth with an audible pop.

“You ain’t gotta tell me twice sweetheart” he tells you with a grin and that panty dropping wink.

You can faintly hear the music that’s playing in the club, the bass pounding against your back. The lyrics you manage to hear work so damn well for your current situation and you’re almost convinced that Marie had requested it.

‘Sometimes you need it so bad, it’s enough to drive a young girl mad.’

You jump when he taps your leg, that bad boy twinkle still very much present in those gorgeous eyes of his. He lifts you easily, slamming you back against the wall. You whimper at the force of it, the rough brick scraping against your back and arms, as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Gripping his cock Dean watches it slip through your slick folds, his own lips parting, pulling breathy moans and whimpers from you. “You want my cock sweetheart? You want it hard, right where anyone could see us?” Dean rasps, fingers digging into your ass as he shifts you slightly.

“Fuck yes! Please, Dean!”

Your hands push into the hair at the back of his neck gripping tightly when he finally stops teasing and lines up with your entrance. Catching his bottom lip between your lips you suck gently, before dragging your teeth over it as he slowly enters your welcoming heat.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream and you squeeze your eyes shut, finally releasing his lip when he thrusts up into you hard, causing the rough bricks to cut into your back.

Dean hisses in pain when your fingers dig into his scalp, hair woven between your fingers as you tug. Pulling back he repeats the action, quickly thrusting his hips forward roughly plunging back into your soaking wet pussy.

Picking up a slow steady rhythm, deep and powerful, his teeth tug at the skin along your collarbone, creating a little sting of pain which only adds to the pleasure. Tugging the front of your dress out of the way with the cup of your bra, he keeps those green eyes locked on yours as he sucks your nipple into his mouth, tugging with his plump lips and sharp teeth. Groaning against your skin he swirls that talented tongue around the slowly hardening bud, the snap of his hips pushing your heels into his firm ass.

You’re forced to slap a hand over your mouth when he thrusts particularly hard, to stop yourself from screaming his name, feeling the coil in your stomach beginning to wind and clench as the head of his cock bumps repeatedly against the spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

There’s the obvious feeling when his lips pull into a smile against your breast, he draws back, dragging those perfect white teeth over the stiff peak. One of his big hands wraps around your wrists and pins them back against the wall as his thrusts begin to speed up.

“Don’t hold it in. Wanna fucking here you screaming for me. I don’t care who hears you begging for my cock” he practically growls, fingers flexing against your ass cheek as the blunt nails dig into your skin.

Your head is swimming with his words, every feeling amplified by the thought of anyone catching you both in the act. “Holy shit you’ve got a dirty mouth, Dean” you pant against his lips, nails digging into your palms. The scratching of the rough brick as it drags against your soft skin, causes you to whimper with every snap of his hips.

“And don’t you just love it, bad girl,” he grunts with an edge of a chuckle, when he feels your pussy starting to flutter around his cock, squeezing and clamping down. Your only answer is filled with nonsensical and incoherent sentences, the only thing that comes out clearly is the chanting of his name, with a mixture of mumbled cussing and pleas.

Your thighs start to shake as Dean squeezes a hand between the two of you, rough calloused fingers pressing against your clit, hard fast circles as his fingers tighten around your wrists.

“Fuck Dean! Just like that, please!”

Your head drops back against the wall, only seeing the black night sky and stars, which starts to mix with the neon lights as the feeling overwhelms you. Your orgasm hits you hard, rocketing through your every nerve ending like lightning, but Dean doesn’t stop thrusting.

“Son of bitch! Should have done this ages ago. So damn perfect Y/N. Gonna fucking fill you up sweetheart”

Clenching his jaw Dean presses his face into your neck, his hot breath against your skin.

The hand that’s gripping your wrists drops, resting against the wall as he bucks into your pussy at an uncontrollable pace, your slick soaking his thighs.

The vibrations of his every growl and moan, mixed with the pounding of his hips. Only serving to prolong your orgasm, so much so that you’re forced into another mind blowing climax, pushing Dean into his own release right behind you. You feel his orgasm hit, causing his thighs to shake under your ass.

A huff of air is released from your lungs when Dean practically collapses on top of you, leaning on his hand as much as possible.

You quickly feel his weight shift as he pulls his chest away from yours slightly, you feel him smile against your lips when he presses a kiss to them. You can’t help but whimper at the loss and sensitivity when he pulls his hips back, his softening cock slipping from inside you.

“Did I miss something? What’s so funny. Mr green eyes?” you smile back, still breathing a little heavily as he helps you rearrange your dress and pulls up his black pants and boxers.

Shrugging he turns to look over his shoulder, following his line of sight your heart almost jumps out of your chest. There’s a security camera sitting just under the guttering, red light blinking away undisturbed.

“I guess for someone in security I probably should’ve remembered that was there, huh?” he laughs still out of breath, scratching at the back of his neck.

“You think!?” you exclaim doing your best to sound annoyed, until the laughter starts to bubble up in your throat. “Get your ass in there and get that video!” you playfully scold him, making sure to smack that tight little ass.

“You want me to wipe it from the record?” he asks with a smirk and that bad boy twinkle in his eyes.

Biting your lip you shake your head, “Just do what you need to. Get it and let's go”

“You’re a bad influence on me sweetheart” the wink he throws your way says otherwise.

“I might have believed that, if you hadn’t just fucked my brains out, in the alley against the building where you work” you laugh gently pushing him towards the back door you’d both left through earlier.

“Touche” Dean chuckles, grabbing your hand and tugging you inside.

Tags: @chewie-redbird @julzdec @lettersofwrittencollective @stiles-o-dylan24 @mogaruke @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @dylanholyhellobrien @desireepow-1986 @emichelle @lilulo-12 @22sarah08 @deanwanddamons @simsadventures @charmed-asylum @nicole-lynne @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @defenderrosetyler @emilyshurley @emoryhemsworth @foxyjwls007 @mylovelydame21 @sunshineandwings86 @captain-shannon-becker @heimdoodle @fandom-princess-forevermore @flamencodiva @hobby27 @akshi8278 @littlelonewolfgirl @ladywinchester1967 @screechingartisancashbailiff @maddiepants @spnfanfic-reblogs @holylulusworld @mrswhozeewhatsis @sonofabringmesomepie @mrsjenniferwinchester @hhiggs @pisces-cutie @trina44sb @heartsaved @matsumama @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore

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theobxhummingbird · 4 years

Text

SLIPPING NOTES. -JJ MAYBANK X READER

Summary: From calling her ugly, to not taking his eyes off; JJ Maybank couldn’t hold back his feelings for Y/N.

A/N: Here’s me and my JJ x reader imagines again. I hope you like this one and please request an imagine. Just click on ask annika and I’ll be more than thrilled to write it for you. 🥰 P.S: Look at those arms dude (sorry I had to 🤤🤤🤤)

It all started with a few words, from the boy she didn’t ever want to hear a word from. Or, at least never hear the words he said to her face. Y/N had never been insecure about her body. She dressed in simple clothes; simple being her style. Sometimes, when she had to go to a birthday party or a kegger; jewelry or bandanas were her touch up. Her hair was, what their friends stated, the most beautiful they’ve ever seen and she really took a good care of it. It was naturally pretty and she had no problem with it. And it all went perfectly fine, until that one boy, known for his chase-tailing girls around Outer Banks and his masters in what type is the hottest or prettiest, had the drunken idea of telling his long time friend that she’s ugly. Yeah...ugly.

From that day on, Y/N never went to keggers again, neither did she attend any public events that involved JJ. He was a handsome guy; blonde hair, blue eyes, tanned body; your known heartthrob. But, Y/N and her little crush on him never really got the same reaction and attention as much as he did.

Her friends hadn’t been hanging out with her lately and they really got concerned of why she preferred being home more, than at the Chateau or the Wreck. Sarah contacted her through texting the group chat her, Kie and Y/N have:

Sarah💅: Y/N love, are you alive in this world?

Kie🐬: Yeah Y/N, we haven’t seen you for weeks now. Are you okay?

Y/N🥰: I’m doing fine guys, don’t worry.

Sarah💅 :Yeah, but we do, when we haven’t seen our best friend for weeks. Can we come over, are you free?

Kie🐬: I need to show you the new clothes I bought earlier asap!!!

Y/N🥰: Of course you can come. I’m waiting for you.

Sarah💅: See you girlie😘

Kie🐬:💋

While she prepared some snacks and drinks for when Kie and Sarah come, Y/N listened to some music. She didn’t put the volume up too much, so she could hear the door. And when she did, the two girls came inside, getting suspicious at why their friend’s wearing baggy clothes in the middle of the summer, but they shrugged it, happy to see her after a long time.

-There’s a kegger tonight, and I’m definitely wearing one of these shirts. -said Kie, putting the stylish clothes she got in the bags.

-Who’s hosting the kegger?

-JJ and John B of course. JJ’s been looking forward to it for a whole week now. He said that there were new girls in town and he was going to get lucky or something. -said Sarah, rolling her eyes.

-Right. Well, have a great time.

-What do you mean?! You’re not coming?

-No, I am not coming.

-Y/N, you’ve been skipping these public gatherings for a long time now and we start to worry, what’s the problem? -Kie placed her elbows on the table.

-Nothing’s the problem----just----I got bored of keggers, that’s all.

-Come, please, we’re going to have so much fun. -pleased Sarah.

She quietly started to think and decide, if this is her night of finally getting a small revenge on JJ’s words: “You are ugly!”

-Okay, I’ll come. -she assured them and drank her water. Sarah and Kie high fived each other and enjoyed Y/N’s company, until they separated to go and get ready for tonight’s party. Y/N told them not to wait for her, because she’ll arrive alone, giving an excuse of helping her mother quickly, before attending the party.

She was stood in front of the mirror, observing her put together self. Thigh length, white jeans, a white cropped top and a purple and pink flannel with purple, short heels. Her body was now perfectly curved and her skin was clear from the constant care and sunbathing. Her hair smelled nice and it was wavy. Y/N was definitely ready for this party.

All eyes were on Kie and Sarah that night; everyone looking at their outfits, until they were no longer looking their way, rather now their mouths were split in shock and looking at the entrance. She walked to her two friends like a model and all the boys whistled her way to them. Sarah and Kie still couldn’t make out if it was Y/N or some other girl.

-Are you---Y/N or am I tripping? -said Sarah.

-It’s me. -said Y/N, trying her best not to run home and change into something she’d normally wear to a party.

-You look stunning and in its every meaning. -said Kie, spinning her around.

JJ’s eyes, trailed down her perfect body, getting a bit too lost at a girl he called ugly not too long ago. His skin was sprinkled with goosebumps and his heart rate was faster than ever. He hardly held back himself from not going to her. But when he heard Pope and John B, deciding to approach them, he couldn’t miss the chance.

-Hello, girls. -said John B, throwing an arm around Sarah; Pope doing the same.

-Hi. -Y/N said quickly.

-Dude, -started Pope, -how did you manage to change so quick?

-What do you mean? I just treated myself a new style.-she winked at the boy.

-It looks great though.

-Thank you Pope.

-You literally had the biggest change of your life, but it suits you well. I mean, you can see that, since all eyes are basically on you. -said John B, looking around him to see guys smirking their way.

-I feel uncomfortable. -said Y/N, slightly closing her flannel. JJ didn’t say a word; he was stunned to his very core and all he could do was just admire her.

-Jack! -said a guy from behind Y/N with a put out hand.

-Y/N, nice to meet you.

-Are you alone? -he got closer so Y/N could hear him better from the music.

-No, I’m with my friends.

-No, I mean, do you have a boyfriend with you?

-I don’t. My friends and I are a whole group. -she tried to point out how uninterested she was at the moment.

-Do you want me to accompany you?

And these moments really stressed her. She didn’t want him to accompany her, at all, and it was tying her stomach in knots.

-No, I’ll be fine on my own.

-On your own? A hot girl alone at a party. See that really doesn’t sound safe.

-Like I said, I’m not alone, my friends are here.

-Come on babe, we’ll have a lot of fun. -he started to come closer and closer, catching her wrist as Y/N tried to let go off him.

-Get off her man! -yelled someone from behind him. Y/N’s gaze turned to the blonde; his eyes were flickering in anger and it didn’t seem to safe at the moment. He was JJ and fights for him were a daily routine. -I said, get off her.

-What will you do if I don’t?

-I repeat, get off her. -JJ tried to stabilize his slightly drunk self.

-JJ...-Y/N tried to warn him.

-She’s alone dude, and I felt the need to accompany such a lady.

-Get-off-her!

-If it means fighting a grasshopper like you, then sorry my man, I won’t let go. -he now used his strength to pull Y/N away with him. JJ caught his shoulder, spinning him around and punching him right in the nose. Y/N jumped back, trying to stop JJ from fighting, but his eyes were too blinded with jealousy that punches didn’t stop.

-JJ! -Y/N pulled him by his biceps.

-Don’t hold me back, princess. -he yelled and Y/N was finally able to pull him away. Placing a hand on his chest to stabilize his breathing, she intertwined their hands and took him as far from the kegger as possible.

-JJ what the hell is wrong with you? -she said; her voice filled with worry. -Why did you do that? And what for?

-For you, Y/N, I did it for you. -he stated. -No one should treat a girl like that.

-I could’ve solved it myself and no one asked you for help.

-Yeah, I saw how you were solving it. But you know what? I should’ve left you go with him, since I see you dressed to impress, you know, leave you to him.

-Dressed to impress? JJ, I didn’t dress to impress. I for once dressed in something that’ll make me feel free and modern. Plus, I combined my clothes into my style but still appropriate for a kegger. And why am I giving you an explanation; you were the one to call me ugly.

-You’re---not---ugly. -his voice softened.

-Well according to you I am, Maybank. -she said, -I’m going home. It’s enough.

-Wait, why are you leaving when you literally didn’t even have a drink or something?

-I don’t drink JJ, sorry. Bye. -she turned her back and started to walk away from him. His whole face was covered in blood and he couldn’t feel his bruised stomach. JJ thought she would offer to take care of him, but it seemed she was too broken from his side.

Her arms were wrapped around her freezing body, as she walked a long way back home. The streets were bare, without any sign of a human form. She tried her best not to turn around the lights that beamed behind her, as a car slowly approached her way.

-Y/N, get in. -said her well-known voice.

-Why did you come after me?

-Because it’s night and you’re not walking home alone.

-Like you care, JJ.

-If I didn’t, would I be here.

He was right. JJ would’ve been at the kegger now, macking on a touron, totally clueless he has another girl in his mind while kissing her. He parked the car and got out, coming face to face with frozen Y/N. His blues stared straight into her eyes, softly glancing to her lips.

-What? -she said, after a long time of just looking at each other in the middle of the road.

-Nothing, I’m just admiring your beautiful face. -he confessed.

-Yeah, after I took a great care of it. Calling me ugly, stayed and will stay with me, Maybank, so sorry, I take this as just a big lie.

-No really, your face is beautiful and was beautiful. I just couldn’t say it so saying the opposite was easier.

-Yeah, yeah, okay I get it JJ. Never mind. -she brushed next to him and started to walk away.

-Now you’ll play hard to get? -he yelled after her.

-For who? For you? Hah, you’ll only see it in your dream, Maybank.

And surprisingly, he really did. When he and John B, returned to the Chateau, he dreamed about Y/N and how she played hard to get and he tried to win her heart back again. The best part though, was that in JJ’s dream, he finally kissed her.

He got out of his bed, hearing someone sing in the kitchen and it wasn’t John B; for else he would’ve recognized that bad singing ability. His feet slowly made their way to the kitchen, surprised to find Sarah and Y/N preparing breakfast. More surprised, she was wearing the same exact clothes like in his dream. Hope was born in his heart. And since she was now alone in the kitchen, just like in his dream, he had the only chance, of making it come reality. Without thinking twice, he spun her around and placed a deep kiss to her lip balm covered lips, getting the taste of it on his own. Y/N didn’t have time to react; she just took in the surprising moment. When they split apart, their faces red as JJ’s cheeks, Y/N avoided any eye contact.

-I’m madly in love with you. -he said and now her eyes were deeply fallen into his. Her mouth split in shock and JJ lifted her chin to close it.

-Wha-ho-why-uh...-she stuttered, rubbing her cheek.

-I should’ve said it a long time ago, but didn’t have the guts to. Guess my dream pushed me into doing it. Or at least, give me some support.

-Your dream? -she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

-Yes, I dreamed of kissing you, right here, in this kitchen. -he trapped her on the counter.

-Wow. -was the stupidest thing that came out of her mouth in the moment. JJ licked his lips, glancing once again at hers. Her shy and embarrassed self, placed quick kisses to both of JJ’s cheeks and jogged to the table to serve the breakfast. She sat down and stuffed her mouth with vegetables, so no one can ask her a question.

-So, guys, what do you want to do today? -JJ came right after her, approaching her chair. He placed his thumb on her back, stroking her bare place as she straightened her figure at his touch.

-We can take the HMS Pogue for a ride today, see if we catch anything? -offered John B.

-Perfect. -said JJ, sliding his finger to her waist, then moving the chair next to her and sitting down. She cleared her throat and continued with her breakfast.

The Pogues were now on the HMS Pogue, and everyone put sunscreen on. The boys were enjoying their beers while Sarah and Kie jumped in the water. Y/N was sunbathing, getting that extra vitamin D. JJ’s eyes couldn’t leave her view and all he wanted to do, was comfortably flirt with her in front of his friends. And he got the chance to, when everyone decided to get in the water. John B was first, followed by Pope. JJ let Y/N get closer to the edge, lifting her in his arms and jumping together in the water.

-JJ. -she rubbed her eyes, when she was on the surface. -Oh my.

Her eyes stung from the salty water and he swam over to blow at them. The others immediately got suspicious and decided to observe from afar.

-Sorry baby, didn’t mean to hurt you. -he caressed her cheek.

-It’s fine, I didn’t close my eyes myself anyways. -she let out a short, cute laugh.

-Yeah, because I didn’t give you time to think. -he winked at her and placed a kiss to her knuckles.

The others started spraying each other with water and Y/N seemed to somehow find herself trapped in a big fountain of water. JJ saw her and swam over. He engulfed her in a hug to protect her from the amount of waves the other created by diving, jumping, splashing.

-What’s this? -he stroke her red wrist.

-I don’t know, it’s the first time I’m seeing it.

-Did I do this? -he shot up his worried eyes.

-No, I don’t think so. It was Jack definitely.

He placed his wet lips to the place and started to kiss her wrist. -Give me the pain. I’ll take it so you don’t have to go through it.

She was stunned from him, not waiting for him to ever say those words. But he did and she started to slowly push aside her stubbornness.

-I love you. -she almost whispered while looking at JJ with love. His wide eyes shot up to her face now, getting that happy smirk on curved on his lips. She shook off her dazed feeling and looked everywhere except at him. He caught a grip of her hands and telling her that they’ll go underwater, she nodded in assurance. He slowly pulled her with him and attached his, to her lips when they were under.

Kie invited them to the Wreck, for a tasty lunch after their fun in the water. They were all sat around the table as it was filled with fries and burgers. JJ was holding Y/N’s hand the whole time, working with only one.

“You are basically, the only thing that keeps me entertained in this place.” -he slipped a note from under the table.

-I’m not even talking that much. -she unnoticeably whispered to him.

-Yeah, but you’re the cutest, ya know? -he winked...and her whole body roamed heat through her brain and finally her cheeks.

“Can we date?” -he slipped another one.

Y/N took the piece of tissue and wrote something, slipping it under the table. - “How could I say no to your handsome face. Of course we can.”

He didn’t plan to have a positive answer from her, rather waiting for her to be stubborn about everything and never forgive him for calling her ugly.

“I’m sorry I called you ugly. Because I didn’t mean it, I promise.”

Y/N send him a reassuring kissy face and it was enough for JJ to know she has forgiven him. They soon announced their relationship to the Pogues, JJ finally getting the chance of calling her his in front of everybody, even getting the chance to cuddle her in front of Jack. Y/N was happy and it was what mattered to him the most.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #outer banks imagines #obx #john b x sarah #pope x kie #john b routledge #sarah cameron #kiara carrera #pope hayward #jj x you

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royaldescendants · 3 years

Text

the darkest little paradise

moodboard made by me

masterlist

Chapter 1

Hades sat in his living room, turning off the TV. His own kid was getting engaged, and he hadn’t even been able to meet the kid she was planning to marry.

He chuckled, wondering how things would’ve gone down if this had been way back when. The kid would’ve had to ask him, and if he’d gotten that far Hades would’ve said yes.

On the condition that the kid was the one to tell Mal’s mother of course, because there was no way Hades was getting in the way of his wife potentially crying over their daughter ‘growing up too fast’.

He had seen the tears when Mal started walking. And when she started talking, when her first word was ‘mama’? He had had to call her best friend to console her. Probably why gods weren’t typically too involved, he mused, the heartache of not knowing if your kid was immortal or not was excruciating.

He drank from the skull flask he’d traded for with the faux-pirate crew. Had to keep up the aesthetic somehow, and it wasn’t like he was able to get anything stronger than a weak ale. It was the only thing that kept for a long time, wouldn’t make you sick, and had some semblance of hydration.

He wondered if Mal remembered that she used to have to drink it too, or if she’d gotten so used to drinking lemonade and sodas, or whatever else they drank on the mainland. He didn’t really know, and didn’t have the energy to care anymore. She looked healthier, happier too. That’s all he needed to know about her new life.

-------

A few hours later, Mal was collapsing on her bed. She was tired of her father’s antics, tired of having so much pressure to both conform to Auradon’s standards yet stand up to the treatment that everyone on the Isle was given. She hated the decision she proposed, but no one else had come up with literally any other solution to the problem.

She reached over to her nightstand for her water bottle, and finding it empty, she threw it in the trash can that was currently full of tissues. Nightmares hadn’t been kind lately.

She froze as the plastic bottle hit the soft bed of long dried, tear and snot-stained tissues.

Kids on the Isle don’t get clean water, and here you are, contributing to pollution.

She went to the bathroom to wash up for the night.

Remember the cold saltwater that Mother always shoved your face in, eyes open? Remember the taste of lye soap?

She finished quickly, ignoring the accusing voice. Closing the barrier was best for everyone, it made sense. Da- Hades almost escaped today, what could happen next time?

You idiot. There’s always two sides to a story, you of all people know this.

The faces of the kids, trying to hide away as her father threw a fit about going home, being a god…..

The eyes haunted her the most. Dead, void of hope-

Hope you could’ve given them.

Void of anything but despair.

------

The way the sun shone into Kore’s apartment in the mornings should have been considered a crime. It was bright, it was overbearing, and it was way too early.

For Kore, it didn’t really matter anymore. She got up before sunrise every day, and had been for the last sixteen or so years.

In this case, as far back as she could remember.

She made her way to grab her jacket and gloves, ready to start sorting and gathering the ripe fruits and vegetables to be sent to the kitchens, just like every other day.

Hands pausing in tying her shoes, she realized that she’d never had to get new ones.

Strange, every other worker had gone through two pairs every other year.

But it was better if Kore didn’t dwell on it, of course. She wasn’t supposed to, that wasn’t her job.

She didn’t get paid to think about shoes, she got paid to tend the grounds the way nobody else could.

And this year, teach an elective about ‘plants, fae, and nymphs; the natural world of magic’.

It was a small summer class, but it was better than nothing.

Kore hurriedly made her way to the greenhouse, snapping her fingers after the doors closed, and summoned all the fruits and vegetables to the great big basket at the front.

Sorting out some stray carrots that got mixed in with the potatoes, she sang a mindless tune, not knowing how she knew the words.

“And I’ll sing you to sleep, and I’ll see you tomorrow

Bless you with love for the road that you go-”

The door opened. “Kore? Is that you singing in here?”

It was King Adam. “I was just passing by, your voice is lovely by the way. I haven’t heard that one, do you remember where it’s from?”

“I don’t think so,” Kore said, frowning over an oddly bent carrot. It reminded her of some sort of flame…. “I just started singing it out of boredom, I think. Do you think it’s some sort of lullaby I used to know?”

King Adam smiled thinly. “I don’t know if it’s best to dwell on it. I’m sure it’s nothing bad, but we don’t want to take any chances, now do we?”

Kore shook her head.

“Excellent. Now, these look positively splendid, I’m sure tonight’s potato soup will be excellent, all because of you, my dear.”

------

After tending to a sick flowerbed around one in the afternoon, changing into a pair of overalls and a breezy cotton button down (and no shoes) sounded really nice. Kore then made her way to her new classroom, with her new keys. Unlocking the door, she decided that she should probably look over who was in her class so far.

“Hey, you’re Lady Kore, right?”

Kore jumped, not having realized that a few kids had entered the classroom, or that the bell to dismiss the previous period had rung.

“Well I suppose I must be, you can just call me Kore though, I don’t have any titles, your majesty,” she said, nervously. Kore recognized the kid immediately.

Not knowing who Ben Florian was, was absolutely impossible, considering he was the king at this point.

“Oh, you don’t have to say ‘your majesty’, it doesn’t make sense, especially considering you’re the teacher here,” he said sheepishly.

“Alright then, should I call you Ben? I’ve heard you prefer your nickname over your full name.”

Before he could answer, the door banged open again. “Ben, you won’t believe what I just did- oh, I didn’t realize you weren’t the only one here.”

“It’s alright Evie, I was just talking with Kore here. We both don’t like titles, it seems,” he said in a relieved manner.

“It’s not that, it’s that I really don’t have one, Ben.”

He turned back to her. “How do you not have a title, but you’re teaching this class? I thought all the teachers had some sort of speciality and political say over it?”

Kore laughed, as more students followed Evie in and sat at the back of the small room. “It’s complicated, I’ll tell you in a minute.”

As everyone seemed to be settled, she decided to grab the clipboard with the class list on it. “Alright, if you hear your name say here, if I mispronounce it please let me know, and if your name is not called please let me know at the end. Ben Florian, I was just talking to you. Jay of Agrabah?”

“Here.” The voice came from the boy wearing blue and yellow leather, with a red beanie. Good luck working in that, a voice whispered, recognizing that leather and plant magic didn’t always mix well. Kore had no idea how she knew, but she decided that it must have happened before.

“Carlos De Vil?”

“Here.” A boy with a red and black flannel said, quietly. He doesn’t have the gift, how will he do this class? Wait- how do I know this?

“Evie Grimhilde?”

“Present!” What is it with these kids and leather?? At least this one has some shapeshifting magic, Kore thought, absentmindedly recognizing the way Evie’s eyes seemed to shift colors with the light, making her look more innocent. Just the way a student would want to on the first day of a new class.

“Jane Fae?”

“Also present.” Finally, someone who is dressed properly! The light blue shirt would probably get some dirt on it, but the jeans and tennis shoes, all noticeably with no wool, leather, or iron included, would work perfectly. Wool wasn’t necessarily taboo, but unless you were working with animals, it didn’t give any advantages.

“Doug Dwarfson?”

“Here.” Oh god. Dwarfs and plant magic? This’ll be interesting. Ah well, jeans and a casual t-shirt are better than- oh no, iron in the shoes. That’ll be reactive.

“Mal…doesn’t have a last name?”

“Yeah, the system erased it. I’m here, though.”

“Perfect. Alright, that’s everyone, time to head out. Leave your stuff here, it’s the last class of the day for a reason.”

Without another word, she grabbed some materials and books, and marched out of the room, only stopping and looking back when she realized none of them were following.

“Guys? We have to go to a better place for this, you know…”

“Uh, Lady Kore-”

“Just Kore, Ben.”

“Right, my bad. Kore, I thought this was more theoretical, take notes on what’s possible, kind of class?”

Kore snorted. “I don’t mean to laugh, Ben, but if that were the case, they wouldn’t have delayed teaching this for so long. Finding someone with nature based magic, someone willing to teach, and someone who knows plants intimately? Harder to find than you’d think.”

“Haven’t you been here for years though?” Jay interrupted, coming to the door.

“I have. Unfortunately, I don’t have any claim to a title, so they didn’t realize my qualifications until this summer. Shall we proceed?”

Making their way outside, they chatted amongst themselves as Kore was deep in thought as to where to go.

“Alright class, this is Greenhouse 13. It’s mostly empty right now, but it will be where we go from now on, unless I tell you otherwise. If something changes at the last minute, I’ll try and put a note on the door so you know to go to the classroom.”

Unlocking the door, it creaked open with Kore’s push.

“The iron in here is less than it is in the other greenhouses, can anyone tell me why that matters?”

Evie chimed in. “Because iron causes burns and injuries to fairies.”

“Correct. They do prefer to be called the Fae, in some cases, exactly like Jane’s last name. If they refer to themselves as Fae, you need to be very careful. They can twist the truth very easily, and they have lots of stories about them for a reason. However,” she paused, turning on the lights at the back of the greenhouse. “That doesn’t mean you should automatically be suspicious of them or their intentions. Many Fae in this day and age don’t really care about all the things they used to, they generally mind themselves and how they phrase things.”

“What was my mother?”

The class looked at Mal, who had suddenly become very invested. “Before her banishment, or whatever.”

“Maleficent was an interesting case,” Kore bit her lip, not sure how she knew. “She was a fairy, yes, but some of her actions would suggest that she could be classified as Fae. However, she was under……” This was where Kore cursed her lost memory. Only knowing the last sixteen years, when she had been working at the castle was perfectly inconvenient for moments like this.

“Under what?”

“Call it a sort of jurisdiction. Forgive me, my memory isn’t all there, though of course Ben might know?”

All eyes turned to the teenage boy, who was sitting against a wall, ready for the class to start. “Uh, I think you’re right. I can’t remember who though, it’s not common knowledge.” He chuckled. “Honestly I’m surprised that you know, Kore.”

“I think I must have worked on something before working here, something with…...whatever it was. Ah well, shall we get started?”

#royaldescendants #disney descendants #descendants #mal #mal bertha #hades #persephone #hades x persephone #kore #wip

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aprillikesthings · 3 years

Text

STRESS DUMP TIME

because aaaaaugh!!

I have spent so much money on masks trying to get something that actually works and I can tolerate and it's extremely frustrating. I did just buy this weird-ass brace thing but I dunno if it'll get here before I leave.

I had a dumbass argument online today with someone about the local homelessness problems. I ended up quoting A Christmas Carol, because he basically suggested we bring back debtor's prison/workhouses. You can punish people for being homeless or you can solve homelessness but those are mutually exclusive, dude. People like you are literally why we'll never solve homelessness in the USA--god forbid we just help people, even if we don't like them.

This is so damn minor, but the number of people who post to r/abrathatfits *insisting* that the calculator is wrong because they have small boobs, there's no way they're an F cup! is just starting to wear on me. Y'all. Try reading literally any random handful of posts on the subreddit. Or the beginner's guide. Or looking at the links in the sidebar to collections of what sizes look like.

I sent the text asking people for their share of the rent money and neither of them have sent it yet, which means I had to transfer money from savings to cover it for now. One of them is worrying me because she usually pays immediately and didn't even reply to my text. :/ (She's not actually in the house--and if/when she moves back in? Another source of stress!)

The rent went up and also as of next month we're paying for water/sewage and I have no clue how much that'll be, especially since it's not by household, it's literally the entire complex's bill split evenly? which doesn't make any fucking sense?

Oh and I keep forgetting to buy renter's insurance, which we're supposed to have--I'll do that this weekend.

THE HOUSE IS A FUCKING DISASTER I manage to get one spot clean and it's back to "covered in crap" within two days. Also the house is basically full of empty seltzer cans because there kept being one reason or another that Daci couldn't drive them to the return. Now that the weather is reasonable and they're feeling better I'm going to have to tell them "take them away within a week or I'm going to leave them out by the bins" again.

I can't clean my own room because at this point there literally isn't enough space in my closet/drawers for the amount of clothing I own. I want to sell some items but the process of getting started on that is Extremely Intimidating.

I just feel like I'm bleeding a lot of money just before flying out and it's hard not to panic. I mean, I still have a savings cushion. I'm not going to, like, miss rent next month. But aaugh.

(I keep thinking: jfc I could probably sell a few Gunne Sax dresses I've never worn and pay for like, a third of my trip, lol.)

I hope I don't test positive on the way out. I hope I don't get Covid in Iceland. I hope I have a good time in Iceland. I hope I don't fuck up or forget anything. I hope that when something inevitably does go wrong I roll with it instead of losing my shit. I hope that if/when I get frustrated/sad/upset/lonely and cry about it that I'm alone (or talking to Daci).

Okay. I think that's everything.

TIME FOR SOME GOOD THINGS:

my fandom friend who was in the path of the worst of Hurricane Ida made it through fine, and her parents are fine, and her apartment is fine; and she expects her power to come back on soon (she's right next to the substation, apparently) and she already has cell service again. Whew.

I am able to afford to finally go to Iceland, after all these years. ;_; Most of my plans and reservations are already made. Their average daily covid case count is lower than ours.

Sugary Carnival (as in, the dress) arrives next month.

Daci is The Best (and just came upstairs with a weed vape. tasty.)

Pan and Saer: also The Best

I like my job and my coworkers (most of the time), and I am making more per hour than I have in my entire life

My health is pretty good, all things considered

The worst of summer is finally over!!! (now if only it would rain...)

#my life #this was helpful #but then so is the weed I just had #pfft

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words-writ-in-starlight · 5 years

Text

Some Trans!Danny Thoughts

When this hit its second page, I moved it to a new post. In no particular order of importance.

When Danny was a year old and learning to talk, he spent two hours getting in a power struggle with his then-three-year-old sister where she pointed to him and said “Danielle” and he said “Dannel” back, and then she told him “Jasmine” and he answered “Jassem”, and it ended with two kids in tears and Maddie having straight-up given up. This was not so much a gender thing as a “kids getting into a screaming match about nothing of import” thing. Instead of trying to fight the point, Maddie decided that her kids were now named Dani and Jazz, and that mostly resolved the issue. It was also extremely convenient later.

Maddie and Jack are not, shall we say, the most attentive parents in the world. Danny was in the third grade before he was required to attend a formal event of any kind (it was Jazz’s elementary school graduation), and while Maddie did manage to wrangle him into a dress, he scowled through the whole thing. Then Jazz bounced down to them, grinning and bright-eyed, and dropped her robe onto his head, because it was June and too warm for it. He spent the next hour running around like a wizard and destroyed the lower third of his dress and that was pretty much the ballgame on Danny and formal attire. He wore jeans to his elementary school graduation.

Jazz started being mostly in charge of making sure Danny had clothes that weren’t, A, full of holes, or B, contaminated around when she was twelve. She decided to do the big sister thing right and took him to Target, whereupon Jazz immediately got decision paralysis. This turned into Danny, ten, and Jazz, twelve, staring at each other in the baby clothes section like they had walked into a parallel dimension, until finally Danny very slowly lifted up a blue newborn onesie covered in elephants and said “I think we’re in the wrong section,” and then they had to sit down on the floor so as not to knock anything over while they lost it. It was a weird day for the Target employees. Jazz pulled it together enough to turn Danny loose and tell him that he needed three t-shirts, a jacket, a pair of pants, and underwear, but not enough to actually dictate anything about the clothes he found. If her sister wanted to run around in block colored t-shirts and a boy’s hoodie, that was between Danny and God.

The ONE dysphoria headcanon I will be including is that Danny was one of those people who went from completely flat chested to a C-cup more or less overnight when he was eleven and suddenly all the mild discomfort he’d ignored through most of his life crystallized. Jazz offhand said that they should go buy a couple bras, because she needed some more too, and Danny fully blue-screened out for five minutes before Jazz snapped her fingers in his face and went “Hey, Earth to Fenton, are you okay?”

“I don’t want to do that,” Danny said.

“What, go shopping? Listen, we haven’t gotten lost in a store since--”

“I don’t want to get--” Danny stopped there, because he was suddenly really not prepared to say any of the words that might go at the end of that sentence. “Can’t I just not?”

“Not—buy a bra?” Jazz asked carefully.

“Yeah.” And Jazz’s baby sister blinked at her from under the shaggy overgrown pixie cut she’d been getting since she was old enough to have preferences, and Jazz thought, a little idly, well, Dani won’t be able to look like a boy anymore, if she looks anything like me and Mom.

And then Jazz, budding psychologist, opened her mouth, shut it, and said, “Tell you what, how about we don’t worry about it right now.” So they didn’t, and watched a movie, and then after Dani went to bed, Jazz hauled one of her secondhand psychology textbooks off a bookshelf and started doing reading.

Three days of intensive research later, she sidled up to Danny and said, “Hey, I have a weird question. Do you even want to be a girl, or what?”

“Sure,” Danny said, distracted by frowning over his summer homework, in the universal tone of I’m really not listening but okay, yeah. “I—hang on, what?”

“Would you be a girl if you had the option?”

Danny blinked at her, again, and said, like Jazz was an idiot, “Would you?”

“Yeah,” Jazz said. “I like being a girl. But I was thinking that maybe you might want to start school as Daniel?”

And then it was Dani’s turn, Danny’s turn, to open his mouth, shut it, and say, “Is that—a thing?”

“Sure,” Jazz said with completely unwarranted confidence. “I’m sure I can figure it out.”

Danny went over to Tucker’s the same afternoon and said, in a tone of total shock, “Hey, did you know I was a boy?” And that was pretty much the end of that conversation. The conversation with Sam also featured Sam’s very earnest attempt to convert Danny to being goth, but that was because Sam was going through a Phase and tried to convert anyone who asked her anything about clothing.

Jazz helps Danny figure out how to explain to their parents. Since it doesn’t involve ghosts, Maddie and Jack could really give a fuck what pronouns their kid uses, and since it doesn’t really change anything except that Jack starts calling him “Danny-boy” instead of “Dani-girl,” it’s not…remarkable.

Later, Jazz is going to think about that conversation, and about the way their dad boomed a laugh and said, “From your face, I thought you were going to tell us something awful—like you were a ghost! Sure thing, Danny-boy, sounds good.” And she’s going to understand why Danny told them one secret and not the other.

Danny’s pediatrician is just relieved that, at Danny’s pre-school yearly physical, Jazz’s only weird question is “can you prescribe hormone blockers” rather than something like “hey if you eat something contaminated with ectoplasm do you think that’ll have effects or…?” (Someone please put this woman out of her misery.)

Danny’s wearing his binder during the accident, which is very convenient, don’t get him wrong, but also that was his favorite binder and he’s annoyed about it getting permanently removed from his wardrobe. It didn’t do that rolly thing at the base of the elastic, it’s hard to find binders that don’t do the rolly thing. Sam listens to him complain about it twice and then she tries to smother him with a pillow and accidentally slam dunks him through his bed.

Also, he initially has some concerns about whether he can take his binder…off as Phantom? You’re not supposed to wear a binder while you exercise, Jazz has drilled this into his head, and it’s not until after his first major dustup with a ghost that he remembers, huh, fighting ghosts probably counts. Some experimenting proves that, while Phantom is a lot more…structured than your average ghost and his suit does come off, it can’t really sustain itself without him for long. If he leaves a glove or torn clothing behind, eventually it’ll start to crumble, or, more alarmingly, melt. On the upside, the suit seems to repair itself, and can straight up regrow any pieces that he loses. A little more experimenting proves that Phantom doesn’t breathe except to talk, and even that seems to be mostly habit, so Operation: Fight Ghosts In A Binder is a go.

Real conversation:

“So…this is Dani,” Danny says, doing kind of a ta-da gesture at the long-haired ghost who, undeniably, looks exactly like him, if a little younger. “She’s my clone.”

“Hi,” Jazz says gamely, and the ghost waves back. “What are you two going to do about the name thing? If you’re both named Daniel it’ll get confusing.”

“My name is Danielle,” the girl says, bemused. “It’s Dani, with an I.”

“She’s not trans,” Danny says with a shrug. Jazz feels about four hundred questions hurl themselves at the back of her teeth, and she takes a deep breath, and Danny is already smirking by the time she wrestles down the impulse to never stop talking. “I told you it would kill her not to be able to write a paper on us,” Danny tells Dani. Then he turns back to Jazz and says, “So, Vlad gave me a free sister and she literally does not own clothes. I figured you could take her to Target and have a meltdown in the baby section.”

“Danny! God, you’re such a brat, that was one time,” Jazz says, flushing, and she grabs Dani by the hand and drags her off while Danny cackles at their back. “Congratulations on your jerk brother,” Jazz tells Dani. “He’s giving me grey hair.”

“Don’t worry about it too much,” Dani says. “You’ll match.” Jazz narrows her eyes and Dani grins, unapologetic.

It makes Danny grin like an idiot the first time the Amity Times publishes a (nominally complimentary, before shit hits the fan) headline about the ghost boy, and he keeps a copy of the article.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #danny fenton is TRANS and you cannot STOP ME #jazz fenton #these are almost as much about jazz if i'm being honest i REALLY love jazz #anyway these are borne on the tide of my dissatisfaction with how every single trans danny thing is about dysphoria #i knoooooow okay i know i get it i know i GOT THE CONCEPT #can we PLEASE get some jokes up in here. some affirming stuff about jazz using her hyperfixation to figure out how to support her brother.#some stuff about how sam's entire conversation with danny was 'so if you're a dude are you going to change your look?'#'because i think maybe an eyebrow piercing or some gauges--' 'i'm not changing my look i like my shirts sam' 'danNY YOUR SHIRTS ARE BORING'#PLEASE give me sam (a bisexual goth drama queen) dunking on her boyfriend for dressing like every boring straight boy ever #(in any universe tbh come on folks)#danny was always going to end up tall but since he goes on t when he's 16 he's VERY tall #and since he's doing ghost hunting 40 hrs/week when he goes on t he also ends up PRETTY BUFF #(remind me to write some stuff about the following: how relieved danny is when he turns 25 and really doesn't look much like dan at all)#(and how profoundly uncomfortable danny is when his voice drops and turns into something WAY too close to dan's for comfort)#also listen i know that not many trans folks actually do the whole 'this is basically just my name but gendered differently' thing #but i (a person with a feminine first name and a masculine middle name) did so just let me project in peace #at some point some kid makes a joke in phantom's earshot about 'do ghosts even come in trans or what' and he's like 'i'm RIGHT here'#i have...more of these #a queue we will keep and our honor someday avenge

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leoswritingcorner · 5 years

Text

an oracle in olympus pt. 3

i’m sorry for how long this took, but i’m back at it again! shout out to @headcanonsfromanelfblossom for being my beta and all of you for inspiring me! <3 part 3 of ?

Olympus, the home of the gods. Mighty and grand, and in all its splendor!

...basically looked like something out of a vintage Aspen postcard. There was no plumes of clouds swirling over golden roads. Chariots and pegasus weren’t racing across the skyline. There wasn’t even a single Corinthian pillar in sight.

Lucky shoves her hands into the pockets of the 90’s print neon windbreaker Lucy lent to wear over her party dress from the night before. The wind is chilly, even for late Summer. She looks around, taking in the sight of the mountain ranges in the distance, and the closer rolling hills lined with pine trees. In the center of it all, a simple looking town laid there.

So far off from what she would draw of Olympus as a kid.

“Luce, just take Avernus Lake Boulevard, it’s the easiest way.” Jamie says, fishing her phone out of a glittery clutch bag.

Lucy shakes her head. “Alkyonian Lake Drive is what I used before, so I’ll use it again.” she argues. She swings the door of her Volkswagen open and looks to Lucky. “Ready?” She calls out. “We gotta hurry, traffic is a killer around the breakfast rush.”

Lucky looks away from the town with a pout. “Olympus is just like Aspen?” She asks a bit disheartened. “That’s another thing, why aren’t y’all in Greece?” She questions, climbing into the car.

In the front seat, Jamie buckles herself in. “We go back, like, now and then. But ever since mortals lost sight and belief in us,”she trails off and shrugs. “We just roam around, but Ran- er, Zeus took a real liking to Colorado so, we’ve been here for, like, the last hundred centuries.” She explains easily.

“Oh.” Lucky says nodding. “Looks like y’all like keepin’ it modern, too?”

Lucy starts up the car, pulling out of the driveway. “Well yeah. You’d expect us to just be in the Bronze Age forever?” She asks back. “We like a bit of modernism, too.”

A sheepish look crosses Lucky’s face. “I guess that makes sense.” She says quietly. Lucy chuckles, catching Lucky’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“But sometimes Zeus feels nostalgic and we’ll have a day or two when this place looks a bit more how it used to.” She adds.

It would have been a quiet ride into town if it hadn’t been for a Gary Newman song blaring on the speakers.

Lucy taps her fingers in beat to the song on the steering wheel. Jamie’s own fingers tap rapidly the screen of her phone. Lucky leans up slightly, catching a glance of the name of who she was texting ‘A❤️💖 💝💘💗💞💕💓😍’

Smiling slightly Lucky slumps back down. ‘A’, she had a slight idea who that might have been. Absently, her hand lifts up and her fingers brush the lines of the splotchy birthmark on her chest.

What if she really was some reincarnated oracle from Ancient Greece?

‘No.’ Lucky pushes away the thought. ‘No, I am not Tyche. I’m Lucky.’

For the briefest and scariest second, a sense of uncertainty fills her.

‘Aren’t I?’

“So.” Lucky speaks up to stop her thinking from going any further. “Y-Y’all have mentioned some guy named Clyde. Who is he?”

The song comes to an end and finally silence fills the car.

Lucy draws out a long “Uuuhhh…”

Jamie pats her friend’s shoulder a few times as if to reset her. “He was, like, a good friend of Tyche.”

“He was a really good friend of hers.” Lucy adds, her voice dipping a little at ‘really’.

Before Lucky could respond, Jamie claps her hands. “Oh, let’s stop at Tweek’s!” She suggests. “We need to, like, make change and I could go for, like, some pastries.”

Lucy nods, flipping on the turn signal. “Good idea.” She agrees. They pull into a small plaza that sits nestled in the shadow of a mountain. Lucky leans forward, peering from between Lucy and Jamie. She hadn’t even noticed they passed by the town and were nearing a mountain range, a more shadowy looking one of all of them. Lucky starts to feel a heaviness grow in the pit of her stomach as they cruise by various shops in the rundown plaza.

‘Grief Counseling by Penthos’ read one sign. Next to it, another sign read ‘Geras’ Old Age Vintage Shop’. Lucy pulls up to the end of the shops, passing into a drive through. ‘Tweek Bros Coffee’ was painted across the window, the word ‘Curae’s’ had clearly been scraped off.

Rolling down the window, Lucy leans out as a static voice yelps from the drive thru.

“Gah! H-How can I help you?”

Lucy lifts her sunglasses. “Hey, Tweek. Give me and Jams our usual, please.” She orders. Turning to Lucky, she asks. “Want anything?”

“Uh.” Lucky blinks. “N-No. I think I’m okay. Don’t have much of an appetite right now.”

Lucy shrugs, calling back out. “And that’ll be it.”

“Y-Your total is f-five dollars. Aw, jeez!” The voice exclaims. Lucy zooms around the corner and plucks the ten dollar bill Jamie hands to her. At the window, a young man with wild blonde hair stands twitching and trembling.

“How’s it going, Tweek?” Lucy asks politely, taking the cups of beverage and bag. Tweek shakes, looking over his shoulder.

“Awful!” He cries. His head twitches and his eyes shut tight. “Pete!” He points to one of the shops in the plaza. “He’s going to kill me and take my shop, I just know it!” The girl follow his finger to look to the store front simply marked ‘Phobos’ where a sullen young man with dark hair stood, staring right at them.

Unblinking. Unmoving.

All three grimace and look away.

“I’ll try and talk to him.” Lucy offers. “We’re gonna see Cherry, Tweekie. Can I get coins as my change?”

“Rrgh.” Tweek replies, taking the money. He fumbles with the register before dropping three silver coins into Lucy’s hands. “Here!”

“Thanks, Tweek.” Lucy says sweetly. She gives a wiggly-fingered wave and drives off. Lucky finally finds her voice.

“That...that was Curae? Anxiety?” She asks, her voice pitching slightly. Lucy sips at her drink.

“Mmhm. Not a lot of mortals know that.” Lucy nods, making a check shape in the air with her finger. “Another point for the reincarnated Oracle!”

Lucky scoffs. “I have a Bachelor’s and Master’s degree in Classical Studies, majoring in Greek Mythology. I’m also working on earning my PhD in the field as well. And!” She lifts her pointer finger. “I was just hired as a docent at the Denver Art Museum heading the Greek Mythos exhibit so…” She makes an exaggerated air check mark. “Point for Lucky Siddalee Day, girl who worked her ass off in college!”

Lucy and Jamie peer at each other.

‘Nerd’ Lucy mouths.

Lucky folds her arms over her chest, looking out the window as the mountain comes closer as the Volkswagen drives on. “But, um, those names back in that plaza.” She says hesitantly, pointing over her shoulder “Those...guys are the ones you’d kinda meet before…” Lucky trails off, unsure if she wants to even think of finishing the sentence she was about to speak.

The looming shadow of the mountain covers the car. Lucky looks out the window and feels her heart leap into her throat.

An immaculate sign made of white stone greets them. It’s black letters carved meticulously, into it, reading;

Welcome to Underworld Co.

A cool chill seems to settle over the Volkswagen as they drove further down into the cavern of the mountain. Any traces of the sun vanishes completely, and only the light of torches lit with flames guide them along. Rows and rows of cars occupy the parking spaces; cars ranging from decade to decade. Lucky swears she sees a Rolls-Royce 10 hp as they drive by.

Lucy turns the steering wheel left, then right, then left again. “Dick!” She exclaims when a wall comes up. Lucky blinks and rubs her eyes. Was that wall there before? Lucy shares a few choice swear words in modern English and ancient Greek as she throws the car into reverse.

Again, she turns left, then right...right one more time. Jamie shakes her head as another wall seems to magically appear. Lucky looks around. “What is all this?” She asks, ignoring Lucy’s agitated grumbling.

Jamie looks over her shoulder to her. “Parking garage. If Lucy, like, took, Avernus Lake Boulevard like I told her, we would’ve had valet parking.”

“Jamie.” Lucy rolls her eyes. “The last time I used valet, the harpies practically tore my car to shreds. And- aha!” Lucy veers the car to a sharp left into an empty spot. “See? Barely took us even twenty minutes.”

The three climb out of the Volkswagen and Lucky looks around the parking garage. It was a maze. Literally. The ramps shifted and turned, while walls appeared and vanished. A car zooms by them and screeches as the road turns and sends it crashing into a dead end. Lucy winces. “Hope they got insurance.” She comments lightly. The three avoid more cars speeding by and make their way to an elevator.

A wispy ghostly figure of a man is there to welcome them as the elevator doors slide open. Lucky yelps, covering her mouth. He turns his head and Lucky winces when she sees the gruesome way he met his end, with a long slash stretches across his throat. Lucky is sure her chest is pulsing visibly with each pound of her heart. Jamie easily catches her from tumbling off the curb.

“Going down?” The ghost asks politely. Lucy nods, as they step in. She passes a silver coin to the ghost who smiles. “Ah, going way down. Elevator Styx to Main Lobby!” It calls out, cranking a lever. The doors seal shut behind them, and Jamie grips onto the railings, bracing herself. Lucy does the same and looks to Lucky.

“Better hold on tight.” She warns.

Lucky isn’t sure what is more terrifying, the elevator plunging downward or the sound of the muzak cover of Lady by Styx blaring over the speakers. Either way, her screams echo the entire way down.

Lucky can barely appreciate the Corinthian columns she thought she would have seen earlier. She clings tightly to Lucy’s arm as they walk down the hallways of white marble walls accented with ebony and gold designs.

It was all so elegant, and yet, so cold.

“Oh, poor Lucky.” Jamie says, gently trying to push down the curls of Lucky’s hair that stuck up on end from the elevator ride. “It’s, like, taken me over, like, a thousand years to get used to that drop. Are you going to be alright?” She asks

Lucky nods. “J-Just waitin’ for my soul to catch up with my body.” She replies weakly.

A high pitched nasally voice speaks up as they step into the main lobby. “Welcome to the Underworld Co, what d’ya want?”

Lucky jumps, and looks up to catch sight of a harsh looking woman sitting at the front desk. Her hair seemed to slither, but not with snakes. Her skin was a pale grey and her hallowed eyes stare the three visitors down, as if they interrupted something very important.

“I said.” Comes her nasally voice again. “What. Do. You. Want.” She bites out, pointing her nail file at them with each word. “All My Demigods is on and you’re wasting my time!”

“Hey, Erinyes, um, One?” Lucy greets. The woman’s eyes seem to darken more. “Two.” Lucy corrects herself quickly. The woman relaxes a bit and goes back to filing her claws. “We need to see Cherry.”

Erinyes Two snorts. “Yeah? You and half of Olympus and the Mortal World. You’ll need tah schedule a meeting with the boss like everyone else.”

Lucy frowns slightly. “Listen, can you just tell her that Dionysus and Aphrodite are here to see her?”

At that Erinyes Two gasps over dramatically and puts a hand to her chest. “Oh, we have name-dropping gawds here! I’ll get right on that!” She nods. Lucy narrows her eyes as Erinyes Two smirks. “Sit down, wino-head. I’ll see if the boss can squeeze you in.”

Lucy takes one, two, and three breaths as Jamie guides her away from the front desk and to the waiting area. The chairs- actually, chaises were comfortable at least. Lucky sits down between Lucy and Jamie. Lucy sat nearly seething.

“I can’t stand dealing with Erinyes. Any of them.” She says, snatching up a magazine titled “Better Hearth and Home”. Across the room a wide screen flat TV showed the scene of a gorgon woman, slapping a Minotaur across the face.

Erinyes Two cackles. “He had that comin’” She says mainly to herself.

Lucky sits back. Lucy wasn’t kidding when she said that Olympus was keeping up with modern times, maybe even a bit more advanced. A wisp of another ghost floats down the hallway, a woman who appeared to be from another time and age, followed moments later by a man who looked like he stepped out of a 1950’s movie set. At the desk Erinyes Two sighs dreamily as he passes.

Lucky’s jaw drops slightly and she turns to Jamie. “Was that…?” She whispers in astonishment.

Jamie glances up from her phone and nods. “Yeah, that’s him.” She replies, there’s almost a hint of a sigh in her voice as well. “Who knew a ghost of a mortal would be such a star here in Olympus too?”

Another hour passes and Lucky begins to feel restless. There’s only so much daytime television that one can watch, in the Mortal world and Olympus. She feels like she’s read through all the magazines on the table; Demeter’s Fine Gardening, Chronos, Olympus Weekly. But Lucy and Jamie seem barely fazed by the dragging of time. That must’ve been one of the perks of being a goddess.

A loud banging of a door opening wide shakes the room. Erinyes Two jumps and stands at attention. “Good Afternoon, sir.” She greets politely. Any and all traces of the rudeness that she had greeted them with early disappeared entirely.

Lucky leans forward to see a man coming in. As wide as he was tall. He wore a black suit, designed with tiny floral prints of blood red roses, and twisting green stems. If one looked quick enough, hints of skulls could be caught between the prints of flowers. Was...was this Hades?

“Ooooh Koooore.” Lucy sing-songs teasingly, standing up.

At that, the man blisters and whips his head around towards them. There’s an angry color on his cheeks as his eyes narrow.

Oh. Oh no. Oh no freaking way.

Lucky giggles in disbelief, and covers her mouth to hide the sound. It’s too late, Persephone heard her.

“Who the hell are you?” He demands, storming over. Lucky stumbles, dropping her purse as she goes to stand up. Persephone is before her, practically towering above Lucky. There’s a light scent of flowers followed quickly by almost metallic smell. Lucky holds her breath and peers up at him.

Persephone pauses, his eyes widening slightly before his steely glare returns. “I said who the hell are you? Speak up, mortal!” He snaps- literally snapping his fingers with each word.

“Oh come off it, Kore.” Lucy cuts in, gently tugging Lucky away from his imposing figure. “Where’s Cherry?”

Persephone grunts in frustration. “Stop callin’ me that, you dumb drunk. Did you come here just to bother me?”

“Dear.” Comes a new voice. Soft and light. It’s spoken in a tone almost above a whisper, but it carries so well across the marble walls. At the voice, Persephone’s anger melts away, replaced with a charming smile and light in his eyes.

“Darling.” He calls back. “Your friends came to visit, seems they brought us another stray.” He shoots them a secret look, just before a woman comes around the corner.

Lucky stares in awe of the god of the underworld. Hades.

The very picture of elegance in a black dress of lace and satin, designed to match her lover’s; twisting patterns of vines and skulls. The red curls of her hair twisted carefully into a pilat crown.

Her gaze is slow, careful, and observant as she looks over Lucky. In that moment, Lucky isn’t sure if she should bow or curtsy. Or faint. That’s what she really felt like doing.

“Cherry.” Lucy greets, smiling. She’s standing by Lucky now, hanging an arm over her shoulders. “This is our new friend. We need your help.”

Persephone makes an agitated grunt. “You know we don’t spare mortal souls.”

“Eric.” Cherry says. So that was his name. Lucky thinks it suits him a bit more than Persephone. However, Persephone did have it’s darker meaning. Cherry gives her husband a gentle smile. “You are right. We do not spare souls so easily, however, she is not dead.” Her eyes look to Lucky again.

Lucky smiles weakly. “Well, guess ya wouldn’t be the ruler of the underworld if ya didn’t know that.” She jokes, hoping to ease the growing tension. Eric seems to bristle again.

Cherry doesn’t laugh, but her smile doesn’t falter either. “What is your name?” She asks.

“It’s…” Lucky begins. Her tongue nearly betrays her when she feels the letter T forming on her lips. “Lucky.” She says quickly. “It’s Lucky. That’s my name.”

At that, Cherry lifts her eyes to Lucy and Jamie. Lucky doesn’t see the way the two goddesses nod.

Jamie speaks up. “Cherry, do you think, like there may be a chance, like, she could be…”

Cherry turns her stunned gaze back to Lucky. “Tyche.” She says in a whisper.

Eric’s eyes grow wide. His body seems to freeze on the spot. He barely hears the way Cherry asks the three visitors to follow her to the Archive Room. He watches the short brunette follow after them. It could not be her. He regains feeling in his body and finally his brain begins to think again, saying the first thought that came to him.

“Oh, shit.”

The Archive Room is not unlike any other office space. Save for the floor to ceiling filing cabinets, long ladders and winged monsters soaring back and forth.

Lucky sits across from Cherry, watching as the goddess takes a box from one of the monsters, nodding her thanks. “I apologize for the mess.” Cherry says. “We are beginning to go...digital.” She finishes with a sigh.

Eric is not too far, drinking a large cup of mead. “It’s going to really help us be more organized and keep track of all these souls and more.” He points out. “It was my idea.” He adds grinning.

Lucy snorts. “Humble as always.”

Eric shows her a view of one of his fingers in a quick motion.

“These are the T files. Tyche’s name should be here.” Cherry’s fingers barely seem like they even graze the tips of the file tops. Lucky glances to Jamie and Lucy nervously. They smile back to her, and Jamie takes her hand, giving it a small squeeze.

“Don’t worry.” Jamie assures her.

Lucky watches as Cherry wordlessly scans the file from top to bottom. Her eyes moving in a swift but steady motion. Eric downs his mead and swallows loudly, watching the scene closely.

Cherry inhales sharply, her movements coming to a halt. “I do not...understand.” Cherry says. “Tyche is not listed here.”

“What?” Lucy, Lucky and Jamie all blurt out at once.

Eric is quick, he comes to Cherry’s side and takes the file box in his arms. “We’re in the process of going digital remember?” He points out. “Maybe her file was just taken out of order.”

Lucy doesn’t seem to accept the answer. “She has a mark. The one mortals carry if their souls return.”

Cherry opens her mouth, but Eric is the one to reply. “That rarely ever happens. Even then it takes a mortal nearly thousands of centuries of penance.” He explains quickly. “Your friend is...just some coincidence.”

“Yeah, I think we came here to talk with Cherry.” Lucy growls. “You know, the actual ruler here?”

Eric’s face goes red. “What makes you so sure about her anyway?!”

Lucky shoves away from the table, and stands. All eyes turn to her as she snatches the windbreaker up, “If no one has answers. I want to go home. Oracle or not.” She says. With a swift turn, she storms out of the room.

Jamie and Lucy begin to follow before Cherry lifts her hand to stop them. Wordlessly, she follows after Lucky.

Lucky leans against the wall, her head tilted back. Her eyes trace the patterns of gold traced through the marble. She counts to ten and closes her eyes. Still a strong unease racks her body.

What and why the hell was this happening to her?

This week began so, well, normally. Now all of a sudden…

“Dear, will you be alright?”

Lucky gasps and opens her eyes. Cherry is standing beside her. There’s a concerned look on her face. “I am sorry about everything that happened back there.” She continues. “I can only imagine how overwhelmed you may be feeling.”

Lucky grunts. “I am beyond overwhelmed.” She mumbles, crossing her arms. “Nothin’ is makin’ sense anymore. In the span of nearly 24 hours, I feel like I’ve been thrown into a bad dream I can’t wake up from. Suddenly, I can’t stop...doubting who I am.”

Cherry listens carefully. “You are having doubts. Do you feel less like yourself?”

“Ever since I heard Tyche.” Lucky sighs. “Tyche...Tyche. Lucky…” She pushes a hand to her head. “I can’t be some ancient oracle. It’s just ain’t possible.”

“Yet, you are here. The Underworld, Olympus…” Cherry says, motioning around. “Lucy says you are clear of drunkenness.”

Lucky laughs dryly. “My stars how I wish I was.” She rubs her arms and looks around the hallway before looking back to Cherry. “Do ya think I’m...I could be her?”

“It is possible. Yet, I would not understand how. Eric may be...severe. But he is correct. The way souls can return is quite rare.” Cherry explains. “However, something does present itself as odd.”

Right, the whole issue of Tyche’s name being missing. Maybe her file was replaced or lost in the transition. Lucky hums and closes her eyes.

“There is a way.” Cherry speaks up. “If you truly wish to find out if you are Tyche or not.”

Lucky looks to her again. “How?” She asks.

“Drink from the River Mnemosyne.” Cherry replies.

Lucky breathes in. Of course the River Mnemosyne could help. If she was Tyche, her memories would come back. She’d…

She’d no longer be Lucky.

“No.” Lucky says quickly. “No, no. I can’t” She shakes her head.

Cherry nods in understanding. “I respect that. Yet, you should know...word spreads fast in Olympus. Oracle or not. Your presence here is known.”

Lucky pales as Cherry finishes her warning. She seems every bit of the goddess of the underworld as her eyes seem to darken and her voice sends trembles through Lucky’s very bones “Some gods and goddesses will be eager to know the truth, my dear. Take care.”

Lucky breathes in the scent of her apartment. Cinnamon and worn books.

It’s so comforting.

Jamie thinks so as she lounges across the couch. “I’ve never stayed a whole night in the mortal realm in, like, years!” She says happily. “Or been to a sleepover!”

Lucky rolls her eyes and presses the popcorn button on the microwave. “Let’s not make it a habit.” She says. Lucy opens the fridge and takes out a bottle of root beer.

“I can make this wine, you know.” She offers. Lucky goes green slightly at the memory of the night before. Lucy shakes her head. “I guess not. Hey…”

“Hm?” Lucky prompts, fishing in a cabinet for a bowl.

“I’m sorry.” Lucy apologizes. “I got a bit extra with Eric and the news. Also, kidnapping you to Olympus.” She adds sheepishly. Lucky turns to Lucy and smiles slightly.

“Thank you.” She says, coming up to Lucy. “Promise you’ll ask me next time? And...keep helping me find out the truth? Slowly.”

Lucy grins tugging Lucky into a tight hug. “Promise.” She says. Lucky laughs, pulling away as the popcorn finished. They all pile onto the couch with Jamie and start the movie. Back to the Future.

After a while. Lucy lifts her hand. A long slender blunt is balanced between her fingers. “So...we’re against getting drunk. But, what about high?”

Jamie and Lucky share a look.

“Oh, what the hell.” Lucky sighs with a shrug. “I may or may not be some reincarnated oracle.”

Lucy lights it up, smiling. “That’s the spirit.”

Lucky sits on the floor and at the TV, the credits rolling. Behind her on the couch, Lucy and Jamie lay deep in their sleep. Their high being slept away slowly. They miss the way Lucky’s green eyes cast a slight glow in the darkness.

“Alas.” Lucky speaks up, her voice distant, reaching across time. “How mistrust will lead to misfortune. A great shadow hovers over Olympus. Ruin and dust shall be the gods kingdom.”

The TV goes dark and Lucky slumps over.

#lucky day #lucy montgomery #jamie jameson #cherry hayes #an oracle in olympus

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aleapoffaithfiction · 5 years

Text

This is not a coincidence  And far more than a lucky chance  But what is that was always meant  Is our ribbon in the sky for our love, love  - Stevie Wonder

Am I a pessimist?

History has shown that it is quite laughable that Americans celebrate Thanksgiving and yet every year, we flood the grocery stores spending hundreds of dollars to prepare a meal for a large number of people who we most likely won’t see or communicate with until the very next year when they’ve come to freeload from our dining room table all over again for the same ol’ holiday. It’s all in “thanks” though, right?

I think Thanksgiving is more of a performance for my mother than it is a time for thankfulness and bonding. It often feels like the event of the month for the neighborhood and she seems to hypothetically leave the door open for anyone to either drop by to have a couple of words with her or sit down to have a plate of the feast made by the hands of she, my sister, and myself. It’s also a day for her to head into her closet to pull out pieces of her more expensive attire that she likely purchased with my Nordstrom credit card. Today, when the apron came off, she only claimed to be freshening up, but upon exiting her bedroom she was donning a Roland Mouret dress and Christian Louboutin “Piagelle” pumps. I found myself scratching my head in confusion at the manner in which the pale orange material skimmed over her frame like a second skin. Though subtle, the seams were angular in their waist-defining approach. I hadn’t seen her wear anything that formfitting since the last date night she and my father enjoyed before his untimely death. The pearl set she paired with it was typical. She swears every woman should have a set of them though the world has certainly moved on to strictly gem stones. Thankfully, she didn’t put together a clutch bag or purse because I probably would have screamed in mental agony at how ridiculous she would have looked. Like a woman competing for a pageant, she’s been working the rooms filled with people all throughout the house for clout that she doesn’t need in the slightest.

“You still hiding in this corner?” I didn’t have to look up to know it was Kyle. Every year he flies up here from Miami to spend the holiday with Preston and my sister, so he ends spending the holiday right here in Brooklyn at my mom’s like the rest of us. Initially, I thought they’d pushed Kyle in my direction because we’re not that far apart in age and could probably relate on some things, but over these past two years I now know it’s because yet again Celeste thinks that she’s found someone who can be a good match for me. She does her most fucked up rendition of cupid whenever she comes across a man who she’d be interested in herself if she weren’t married and then she pushes him in my direction. I fell for her bullshit with Shamel but it will never happen again. Also, her husband’s brother? That’s entirely too close for comfort.

“It’s my preferred place to be when I’m not feeling the atmosphere.”

“What are you drinking?”

“Merlot.” I’ve been babysitting this glass of wine for over an hour now. My tongue is yearning for a Don Julio Paloma. If I don’t get home too late tonight, I’m absolutely going to fix one for myself while I watch whatever movie that’s OnDemand that I missed out on while it was in the theaters.

“I think Preston has some Barcardi in there. You want some?”

“No, I’m okay with this.” I only made the decision to indulge as a literal painkiller. I needed something to relax my body after having mostly been on my feet since early yesterday morning when I was rushed out of my bed to go and pick up a few last-minute items from Walmart.

I had no choice but to leave Odell tangled in top sheet and blanket as I quietly readied myself and put together an overnight bag for the following day. I thought I’d at least be able to make him breakfast but her demanding phone calls did not cease until I was actually at the store. As of now, my feet are viciously aching and I barely have enough energy to move my mouth to speak to everyone, let alone walk around. I’ve been wanting to go to sleep since I ate and I’m mentally cursing myself out for choosing to wear these boots, though they’re one of my most comfortable pairs.

“I think it’s cool that you all host this every year. My family always went to my grandmother’s for holidays. We never hosted anything at the house because my folks were never into that.” Neither am I. Maybe that’ll change when I have my own family, but as of right now, I’d rather keep my home as the safe haven that it is.

“Yeah, we’ve been doing it as far back as my memory goes. I feel like my father set the precedent. He was a people person and chose to have an open-door policy within the neighborhood. It used to be the one trait about him that drove my mother insane, but somehow, she adjusted to it and opened herself up to understanding why he chose to be that way. If people needed anything, they knew they could come here and we’d help out somehow. I guess you can say that our blessings were fruitful so that we’d be able to share them with others.” Though he’s no longer with us, I’ve kept his gems about being about the community embedded into my conscious. I donate to women’s shelters, the Boys and Girls Clubs, afterschool programs within the inner-city schools, and I’m working on creating recreational weekend sports camps for this up and coming summer.

“You look a lot like him.”

“Yeah, my looks definitely lean in his direction.”

“Great looks, by the way.” With a faint chuckle, my shoulders slouched in an adjustment for the slight aches in my back. Living alone has its perks and not having to constantly stand in front of a hot stove every day is one of them. The last time I stood on my feet for hours cooking was last year, this time. I’m just not used to it.

“Thanks, Kyle.”

“So, what’s it like being on ESPN? I know that it was always a dream of yours and it’s cool as hell to see you sitting up there. I feel like often times when we look at public figures on television, it almost seems like jobs like that are so far out of our reach and yet look at you. It’s impressive.”

“It’s great. It still feels surreal and then it has its pressure and stressfulness too. It’s a job in every single sense and I think a lot of people don’t think about it that way. A lot of people look at the glitz and glamor of it, but there’s so much that goes into our panel being able to sit there and entertain people every morning with our sports knowledge and banter.”

“I believe you. I know there’ll be a lot of work to put in for it, but is the goal to have your own show?”

“I don’t know. I’ve thought about it and sometimes it sounds ideal and other times I feel like I want to do something more. I don’t know if I want to spend the rest of my life on television but I probably wouldn’t mind it either depending up on the circumstances. I’m trying to figure that out. I know I want to create my own sports platform or possibly be in collaboration with another black creative or many of them to create something for us and by us. I can try and get our people in the door at ESPN but that final say isn’t mine, you know? And that fucks with me.” It still makes me chuckle when people call Scott the “token white” on our panel but it makes perfect sense in all of the wrong ways. His overdone sarcasm and constant need to play the devil’s advocate doesn’t negate his talent but could they have added a black journalist in his place? Would they have is the real question? I can’t call it.

“I feel you. I feel the same way. In tech, there aren’t many of us. I spend a lot of time going to speak at historically black colleges to persuade students to bring their talents to the field. You’d be surprised how a lot of the internal parts or software programming for some of our favorite gadgets are created from ideas young talented blacks have either sold or got swept under the table over due to fucked up contracts. I’m doing my best to change that reality, because I’m not slaving for anybody and none of us shouldn’t have to.”

“Cheers to that.” As our glasses clinked, I nodded in appreciation. Kyle and I always have great conversations and if Celeste weren’t so pressed for me to romantically pursue him, I think we’d be great friends. He’s progressive in all the right ways.

“Pictures please! You know I do a Facebook photo album every year. Stand up Sarai.” She came out of nowhere like a bat out of hell. I hadn’t even heard her Jimmy Choos clacking against the floor. I’m now finally realizing that both she and mommy have the same curls in their hair. What a kiss ass. I’ve been rocking a hat since guests began to arrive. After having sweated out my hair in the kitchen, I couldn’t be bothered with slaving in the bathroom with a flat iron trying to fix the pity. This slicked back ponytail will have to be until Anna fixes me up tomorrow.

“I’m not standing up.”

“Don’t be a sour grape.”

“My feet hurt. You can take one or two with me sitting right here.” Though she prepared her phone for the photos, it didn’t happen without her childishly rolling her eyes and stomping one heel clad foot. Kyle allowed it to be a solo moment by standing up and stepping away from the warm mantle of the fireplace. Even with the bit of makeup I put on to mask the exhaustion, I know I’m not in a picture worthy state but I’ll compromise for the sake of not having to hear her go on an attention seeking rant.

“Can you at least smile?”

“This is not a photo shoot. Take the pictures and send them to me when you finish. You’re not going to have me looking crazy online.” She took them, but without flash, and that within itself left me weary of her intentions. I’m slumming it in my joggers and this little off the shoulder top I randomly found on a clearance rack at Wet Seal. It damn near looks like I dressed myself in pure darkness but I’m making it work enough for myself alone. I wasn’t wearing pearls either way.

“I sent them. They’re cute.”

Surprisingly, they are. Daddy swears both Celeste and I get our photographic nature from our mother. He had a thing for constantly either videotaping or snapping pictures of us around the house or during family outings. Keepsakes of that kind have always been a tradition on his side of the family and he felt compelled to instill that in our household so that the future generations could use it all to piece together our family’s tree and history.

Everything we have is idly collecting sheets of dust in the lower cabinets of the entertainment center in the living and that’s where they’ll remain until someone has the courage to pull them out for what is sure to be the most draining emotional rollercoaster that any of us needs right now. I’m still trying to figure out how to navigate my memories of him, so I’d rather not clog it with better detailing about our days. I don’t know when I’ll get to the point of complete acceptance with a clear conscious but I’m with dealing it. For now, that’s enough.

I felt like a booty call gone wrong when you just got up and left like that. I woke up like, oh wow…

Heat flushed through my face as a fit of giggles erupted from my core at his nonsense. Not only did I text him and let him know that I left, but I wrote down the security code for the security system so he’d be able to lock the door whenever he planned to leave out.

How did you feel like a booty call when I left you in my bed? It’s not like I walked out of a hotel room on you. No one leaves booty calls in their own beds. If anything, I treated you like a booty call that I plan on calling again.

I considered waking him up, but the serene expression on his sleeping face halted my actions. The side of his face was meshed into the plush pillow on my side of the bed once he readjusted his position and though he reached for me, my absence didn’t wake him.

Oh, so that’s all I’m good for?

I despise how he has the capability of making me blush with his silly little banter and presence alone. It’s a naturalness that I’ve never experience at any of point of my life thus far and comprehending it seems undoable. My grandmother used to say that sometimes we don’t need to think but instead just feel but that is by far the most perplexing statement I’ve ever heard. All I know how to do is think, especially over these last couple of years.

Don’t be offended. At least I like it.

Like it? Lately I’ve been questioning if that’s enough to describe it. Liking it would be simple and this is anything but simple. I can do simple and blow it out of my way, but this? It’s a fucking enigma.

Happy Thanksgiving gorgeous. I’m rocking the boot today. Everyone is loving it.

Unexpectedly, an impromptu picture of himself standing in front of the grandeur double doors of his home followed his message. Per his usual, he was in loud textures that only he can get away with and hilariously covered in winter attire above the waist and summer attire below it. He wouldn’t be himself without having the crimson Supreme crossbody bag around him to perfectly match the boot. Oh, and how can I forget the phone case? Everything about his style would reek of hypebeast if it were anyone else and yet for him, it’s as uniquely expressive as his personality can be.

Handsome.

And that he is. It’s throttling.

Thank you, baby. Send me something.

The prickling in my dampening skin worsened my posture. I’ve never sent racy photographs to any man and yet the thought of sending a few to him is doing more to me than I understand, though that’s not what he’s requesting. Shamel would request them from me quite often and I’d deny him every time because the thought of laying back somewhere and spreading my thighs for a photograph of something that I barely wanted to give to him was unwarranted. On birthdays and holidays, I’d get pieces of lingerie that were satisfying to his eyes rather than well thought out gifts with aspects of my taste involved in the selection process and all of it was left in a box on the side of the street when I moved. I didn’t even deem it worthy enough to be sent out to the shelters and Goodwill's that I donate plenty of my things to.

I couldn’t bother with putting on anything special because I’m in no mood for that, so don’t judge me.

I bit the bullet by sending one of the pictures taken by the ever-nagging Celeste. Now that I’m looking at it, I know damn well I could have put on a pair of jeans with this flannel shirt.

You’re the epitome of beauty in every sense.

Not even the sudden presence of Quinton’s frame walking past me could put a damper on the gut-wrenching fluttering uncontrollably multiplying throughout every bit of me as I read his words over a few times. Does he know what he’s doing to me? Has he called my bluff? Am I exposed?

Even with a bad hair day?

I’m not completely aware of all of the details of his dating history but I’ve seen the women he has been rumored to have dated and much like anything would expect, they’re picture perfect. I don’t fit into the mold of those ideal body types who have all of their curves in the right places with a perfect set of perky boobs and an ass that is sure to make any man look back twice. I don’t even understand my shape enough to be able to describe it but I do my best to work with what I have.

Once upon a time, I thought about ridding myself of my breast insecurities by having a fat transfer done to plump them up without having to have implants inserted. Shamel didn’t make the situation any better by agreeing that I’d go from average to a dime piece if I did so. He even offered to pay for it if the insurance wouldn’t. When he and I split, I finally had the time to really sit down and consider if it was something that I desired to do for myself and it was then that I let the idea of it go. I am who I am. Laying on a surgeons table was never going to fix the issues within my mental space.

What bad hair day? I don’t see a single hair out of place. Am I still seeing you tonight? I miss you. I know it sounds weird for me to say that because we were just together, but I really do.

Not only am I physically drained and in need of my bed, but I also have to work tomorrow. I considered making this weekend a four-day weekend for myself last week but it slipped my mind to request the day off.

It doesn’t sound weird. I miss you too. I’m so tired though. You don’t want sleepy company, do you? I just want to lay in the bed.

I’m purposefully sitting on this bricked fireplace, because it’s uncomfortable and keeping me from dozing off somewhere.

Well, my bed is waiting for you to come and go to sleep in it. I don’t mind sleepy company at all. Come on.

I’m still very convinced that the universe is somehow trolling my life for whatever reason. Where did this man come from? When my prayers go beyond my loved ones and I began my requests to the man above for myself, I only pray for peace. This isn’t peace. It’s disruptive, confusing, and yet so damn earth shattering.

I’ll let you know when I’m on my way. I have work tomorrow, so I have to head to my house to grab some things so that I’ll be able to properly ready myself in the morning.

Hopefully, it’s not too late.

Sounds good. See you in a bit. Oh, and bring me some red velvet cake.

It took an additional twenty minutes of me idly sitting there to muster up the strength to move. Upon observing the room, Quinton walked past me twice without a word spoken and though it didn’t trouble me, I can’t say that I’m not shocked about his chosen tension and immaturity. I thought we’d be better than that because as he said, we have a history, and it goes beyond a date that didn’t turn out the way he wanted it to.

You win some, you lose some. Despite everything said between the two of us that night, I haven’t held any of it against his character and I probably never will because I honestly do believe that he’s a good guy with a good heart. I just think he’s lost track of who he is beyond the political career and until he figures that out, he will continue to make superficial decisions for his life all for the sake of upholding a specific public image.

“You coming to eat again?” Though everything else remain perfectly in place, mommy finally removed the heels and comfortably leaned against the kitchen’s island in a pair of Nike slippers she took out of my closet about two months ago.

“No. I can’t eat another bite. I’m just going to take some dessert with me for right now and then I’ll come over tomorrow after work for anything else I have a taste for.” I’m going to bring Beckham some red velvet cake, pineapple upside-down rum cake, and a bit of banana pudding. That should more than satisfy his sweet tooth. I handled all of the desserts this year. Next year, I’ll be damned if Celeste doesn’t help me.

“You look tired. I told you if you’d get into that kitchen of yours more often, you’d be used to this.”

“Cooking for a neighborhood of people? Not really.”

“Cooking for your family.”

“I cooked with my family, which counts for something. I don’t have a family of my own and I’m not sure if or when that’s going to happen for me, so I haven’t cared to train myself. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. The fact is, I actually do know how to cook, so I’ll be fine either way.”

“You could have a family of your own but you choose to avoid it.” If I’m avoiding anything, it’s where this conversation is about to go.

“With Quinton? Yeah, I’m sure that makes sense to you but it never will for me and I don’t appreciate you inserting yourself into that situation. I’m perfectly capable of choosing who I will and will not involve myself with romantically. I don’t need any lobs or assists from you.”

“If you’re so capable of choosing, why haven’t you chosen anyone? Why is he not worthy of a proper chance? You didn’t even try.”

“There was nothing to try. I’m not interested. I get it, though. It looks like it makes sense since we come from the same background, have success stories while coming out of the same neighborhood, and his mother and yourself can relate in ways that are both painful and triumphant, but it’s not going to work for me.” Quinton and I look good on paper. We’re ideal in the general sense, but anything beyond that? We’re a disaster waiting to happen.

“So, what is? You live in that huge home of yours all alone and you want to do that for the rest of your life? I worry that you’ll actually do that. Companionship is a good thing, Sarai. Having someone around to balance out life with you is healthy. Celeste has her own life and though I am your mother, you need more than just my shoulder to lean on whenever you take a break from that overly done independent woman rampage, you’re on.” Rampage? If anyone’s on a rampage, it’s her. She’s on a rampage for me to be barefoot and pregnant while being subservient to someone not even worth my troubles.

“Whatever I do will be my decision and I’ll have to live with that, not you. You’re so adamant about all of this, but you don’t even know half of the shit I went through with Shamel. So, excuse me for not being as enthusiastic about settling down as you need me to be. As I said before, I don’t know if or when it’ll happen, but I’ll be okay either way. Sometimes I wonder if the only time you’ll be proud of me is when I put on a big fluffy white dress and vow my life over to someone, because you certainly don’t show it when it comes to anything else that I do.”

“Oh, nonsense. Don’t do that Sarai. You know that I’m proud of you.”

“Well, you have a poor way of showing it. Excuse me.”

I had to put the banana pudding in a small plastic to go bowl because I didn’t want it to touch the pieces of cake I had on the plate. I don’t know about him, but occasionally I can be super anal when certain food touches one another. It throws the taste off.

“It’s late and since the crowd in here has died down, I’m going to head home. I have to work in the morning. I’ll be over here tomorrow.”

“You sure about that?”

“I’m sure.” I’m not cooking anything, so leftovers it is. I’m definitely coming.

“Well, give me a hug and kiss before you go.” I fulfilled her request immediately. I would have done so whether she asked or not. No matter what we disagree about, she is my mother. I don’t allow our indifference to steer me from that reality. I have one parent now and I’m going to nurture that as best as I can for as long as I’m granted to. I’d rather not live with any regrets.

“Drive safely and let us know when you get home.”

“Will do.”

People being slumped inside of the comfort of their homes or someone else’s seemed to keep the traffic down. I avoided the tolls by taking the FDR drive and Harlem River drive to Hudson Terrance in Fort Lee. Even Exit 73 was clear and I always tend to hit a bit of a slowdown whenever I’m coming from that direction.

The sight of my bed enticed me like no other as I lazily put together all that I needed to make the morning go as smoothly as possible while I drag and dread having to make that commute to Bristol. I’m going to need the most potently caffeinated cup of coffee while driving myself up there and I’ll probably need another for the commute back. That aside, having no plans for the weekend is absolutely official. I intend to sleep until my body can’t take it anymore.

On my way.

The anticipation to be within his presence battled the fatigue like the fiercest gladiator and that yearning carried me back out of the door and into my car. Even if I attempted to pass out, the guilt of standing him up would have kept me wide awake and staring up at my ceiling. I’m not even sure what to call Beckham but he’s my…something.

Taylor’s my person in the same manner that Meredith Grey is to Christina Yang. Is Beckham, McDreamy? Are our souls tying within that manner? It’s terrifying to think about and even more distressing to know that in some manner, it feels that way.

With Eris and Khan idly walking around the entry driveway to his home, there he sat awaiting my presence. It was the sight of the headlights that alert him to stand to his feet and I barely had the car in park before he was standing alongside the driver’s side of it.

“Glad you made it safely.” As the seatbelt slid back into its proper position, he leaned in and I instantly pressed my lips into the warmth of his for the kiss we both seemed to have been anticipating.

“You didn’t have to wait out here in the cold. I could have rung the bell.”

“It’s nothing. It’s not that bad out here anyway.” It was his strength that pulled me out of the seat and I was thankful for it because I know I would have sat there for much longer than necessary. The Chanel bag he gifted to me was all I had to carry inside, because he handled the rest.

The chattering coming from the kitchen and the low music was to be expected but with it nearing almost midnight, it was clear that whatever crowd he had in the house before had already gone home.

“That’s momma, Jazzy, and Kordell in there. They knew you were coming. You cool with saying hey?”

“Of course. I can’t just come in here and not speak.”

“You’re tired.”

“Tired, but not rude.”

There’s something about being in the house with his family that unnerved me. It’s not their presence but instead the circumstances for why I’m here. Family tends to be perceptive and how would his feel knowing that I’m likely going to lay alongside him in his bed tonight as I rest? It’ll be no marital bed.

Despite our ages, it doesn’t prevent people from side eying or negativity whispering about whatever it is they’re frowning down upon. Heather and I mutually admire one another and I’d hate for her to no longer feel the same way about me or believe that I’m a poor influence for her daughter.

“Sarai! You made it. Happy Thanksgiving.” Her long arms pulled me in for the bear hugs that she always gives. They’re comforting and reassuring; maternal and yet friendly all at once.

“Happy Thanksgiving. How are you?”

“I’m so good. Look Jazzy. Meet Sarai. Sarai this is O’s little sister Jasmine and his little brother Kordell. Sonny’s sleeping.” In some ways, the both of them resemble him, especially Kordell. He’s literally the milk chocolate version of his older brother. In just my short moments of observing him, they also have similar mannerisms in the way they shift and squint their eyes.

“Wait, so this is your girl? This is the one? She be on TV with Kobe.”

“Kordell, shut up. It’s nice to meet you, Sarai. My brother speaks very highly of you.”

“You do too. Don’t try to water down the fangirling you be doing.” Beckham needed to put them on blast in order to save himself from the playful embarrassment they were attempting to inflict on him. I was once just as annoying to Celeste whenever she’d bring company over to the house. Even though we didn’t share a room, I’d deliberately invade her privacy just to be an annoying ass.

“I am a fan.” There was pride in her tone.

“I appreciate it Jazzy. Thank you.”

“How was your Thanksgiving? Did you spend it with family?” In her usual behavior whenever I’m here, Eris circled my feet and I leaned over to give her the attention she craved.

“It was nice. I spent it in Brooklyn with my mom, sister, and brother-in-law. Some family stopped by and a whole bunch of neighborhood friends. My mom likes to do it big for Thanksgiving, so it was busy.”

“It sounds like a good time though.”

“It was. It turned out nicely.” People kept the peace. I suppose that’s nice enough. I’ve been at family functions when shit has gone left and arguments happened.

“That’s good. Are you hungry? We have plenty.”

“I’m stuffed, but I love leftovers, so tomorrow sounds like a plan.” I could raid his fridge and my mothers. Either way, I can’t lose.

“You’re welcome to whatever you like. We were just getting ready to start…” Before she could finish the statement about the UNO game they were soon to begin, her impatient son cut her off.

“She’s tired. She has to get up for work in the morning.”

“If you wanted her all to yourself, all you had to do was say so.” What his siblings didn’t accomplish, she had. The rosiness flushing throughout his face tickled me into an uncontrollable laughter, that eventually both his mother and sister joined in on.

“She really does have to get up for work in the morning.”

“I do, but I can play a round of UNO. It’s no big deal.”

“You can play tomorrow. You need to sleep.” He held his hand out for me as if I were a stubborn child. If I weren’t so tired, I would have given him a run for his money at one of my all-time favorite card games. I know he hates losing.

“Well, goodnight.” I waved before latching my hand onto his own. Can this get anymore awkward? I should have just told him to come over to my place. Next time, I will.

“Goodnight.” It was all in unison with their attention completely locked into to whatever they assume is going on between one of the most important people to them and myself. I’m not sure what he’s told them but they’re well aware that we’re beyond just being friendly. At this point, even the dimmest person could pick up on it.

“I put extra towels, wash clothes, and a toothbrush in the bathroom for you. I’m not sure if you brought your own soap, but I took some Dove body wash from out of the bathroom my momma uses whenever she’s in town and staying here. I’ll plug your phone up and sit it on the nightstand for you.”

As soon as I removed my coat, he grabbed it and walked off to hang it on the outskirts of his closet. I’d been in his bedroom before but I didn’t necessarily observe every detail about it, but it’s very telling of the demanding career that he leads. Though a master suite in size, it’s fairly simple in décor and yet exudes the masculinity that I expect. Given that he’s highly detailed and puts plenty of thought into the attire that covers his body, I’m surprised that he hasn’t hired an interior design team to come in and turn the entire house into something out of an art gallery.

“I know you’re not hungry, but do you want anything to drink?” While I rummaged through my bag, I could hear the paws of the doors pattering against the wooden floors as they made their way into his personal space.

“No, I’m okay. I do need something to sleep in though. My sleepy ass forgot to pack that.” I don’t even remember attempting to find pajamas. I was so preoccupied with finding the perfect dress to wear on air and after that, decorating for Christmas. There’s always a mixture of dread and excitement about that. That’s one of the downsides of living alone. I have to spend days putting everything up on my own and it’s not easy.

“I got you. Hold on.” Yet again, he headed in the direction of his closet. At home? I only sleep in actual pajamas if I have company. Other than that, I’m usually in bed in damn near nothing. It’s comfortable and less of a hassle.

“Okay, here’s a shirt.” I knew it would be something Giants related. I’m sure that he has thousands of team related shirts that he hasn’t worn.

“What kind of shorts do you want? The cotton Nike ones are soft and light. Or do you want sweats? You want socks too?”

“The shirt is fine. That’s all I need.” Everything else will eventually end up on the floor if I put them on.

“Okay.”

I didn’t have to ask for privacy. As soon as he placed the shirt on the bed, I was left alone with the dogs once he walked out and closed the door behind himself. He’d given me more than enough time to change, brush my teeth, and even get settled into the coziness of his California king bed. The plushness of his ice grey down comforter was coaxing me into the perfect relaxation for slumber and yet I couldn’t refrain from rocking my hips, snapping my fingers, and mumbling along to Stevie Wonder’s “Higher Ground”. It wasn’t loud at all, but the volume was up just enough for me to be able to make out the song. Stevie’s soulfulness has always been a part of the extensive musical collection in my mother’s living room. His sounds were our Saturday morning clean up music during my childhood and that tradition followed me all the way to my own home.

“You’re an old soul too?” His amusement didn’t go unnoticed upon his reentry.

“I don’t have much of a choice but to be that. I get it from the two who made me.” I wonder if he allows the dogs on the bed. If it were my bed, I’d allow it. They’re so lovable, even in their massive size and intimidating demeanors.

“Stevie’s only on because my momma’s here. This is a Future household.” He could barely contain his own laughter. Future?

“Oh, how enjoying it is to listen to the misogynistic raps of Hip-Hop’s walking sperm bank.” Why do women fuck Future? I need a 60 Minutes episode about that.

“He’s just misunderstood.”

“I will kick you out of your own room. Misunderstood? He’s a demon.” Though I couldn’t see him, I could hear his laughter loud and clear. I can’t front, I can and will hit the dance floor to some of those infectious trap records created by the Atlanta native but the antics of his personal life are atrocious. No, but seriously, why do women subject themselves to him? Is the dick that lethal?

“A demon huh?” I couldn’t respond. The muscles in my throat contracted into a tightness that forced my frame back against the pillows as my lips fell agape at the sight of his tattoo covered skin. His chiseled abs aside, there’s something about the manner in which the ink is etched into his golden skin that is worthy of being displayed in the Louvre. Every bit of it tells a story that I want to run my fingers over and know thoroughly from start to finish. I want to plant kisses on the areas that are representative of past pain and marvel over those that are picturesque versions of his triumph.

“That’s exactly what he is.” I wasn’t as edgy as I am now when he was in my bed and yet as he joins me in his own, I nearly want to run to the opposite side of the room. As he did that night, he stretched out his arm to invite me into his space and I slid over to the middle of the bed to meet his warmth. With one press of a button near the bed, the lights were off, setting the complete mood for the few hours of sleep that I’m going to get.

“Am I forcing you to go to bed early? You’re a night owl.”

“I’m only a night owl because having surgery ruined my sleep schedule. When you don’t have much else to do, you tend to occupy your time with crap that’ll keep you up. Video games were it for me.”

“I miss being a night owl. Nowadays, I struggle staying up past ten. This is why I hope the show moves to New York. We’re currently in on and off negotiations about that. We’re also tossing around the idea of doing a few weeks in the Los Angeles during the summers with a live audience just to change the scenery of the show. Hopefully it goes through.”

“That would be great. You’d be closer to home and L.A. is always a nice change of scenery. I’m sure Kobe would love that too.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely the one who’s advocating for that idea.”

“And we’d be together in either city, because the timing would permit it. That’s perfect, actually.” He does spend his off seasons in the West, so I can see why he made note of that.

“It could be perfect. Fingers crossed; it works out.”

Our limbs were like magnets as they intertwined at different points and he’d idly plant a kiss on my forehead seemingly every ten to fifteen seconds.

I wouldn’t consider either one of us worthy of musical recording contracts and yet as the medley of Stevie’s “Ribbon in the Sky” faintly played below us, hums from the both of us drowned out his vocal delivery. The depth and rasp of his lulled me beyond what his warmth and the comfort was already doing. It inflicted a tranquil sense of drowning that I welcomed and yet the manner in which is large palm lightly grazed over the heated skin of my inner thigh ignited a ravenous blaze for him. The seat of my flimsy barely there panties dampened with every thrashing throb of my center. I haven’t been touched in so long, I’m afraid to know if I just unraveled from a gesture so simple.

A dewiness flushed over my skin as my heart thumped against my chest in a quickened rage. The pressure ignited that natural yearning that any woman should have when lying next to the man of her affection and I have no way of being able to reach over to my own nightstand, open the draw, and grab the blackened vibrating device to handle this myself. I had to move over for the sake of my sanity and most of all, to lessen the possibility of humiliation. His now resting body didn’t allow the distance to last as long as I needed it to.

Yet again, his hand met the inside of my thigh and drew me into his side as I once was before. The aroma of his intoxicating fragrance slithered up my nose as I was locked into place with his arm, which coaxed me to whimper at such an endearing torture.

God, help me.

The scenic sunrise was my company in the shower after hitting the snooze button twice to extend the comfort that I didn’t want to lose. With a lack of regard for time, I prolonged my minutes in his state-of-the-art shower just as much. It’s the first time in a long time that I’m sorrowfully dreading stepping onto that set to do what I love to do.

“Good morning.” I attempted to be quiet but I must have not done a good enough job. As his frame towered behind me, he trailed kisses up my back, ahead of the zipper that he was pulling up from the back of my maroon pencil style dress. At home, I unraveled a wire hanger and turned it into my own personal hooked zipper closer. I prefer this. The feel of his lips pressing against my skin and the aura of his being surrounding me supersedes that any day.

“Good morning.”

Although I’ll be doing my make-up routine in my dressing room, I still moisturized my face and applied a decent amount of lip gloss to my lips as while he stood at the sink brushing his teeth. I’m not even sure if concealer will be able to do much hiding of my exhaustion today. My eyes are literally burning because they’re open and I have a budding headache just waiting to worsen as soon as I walk out of the door.

“I’m going downstairs to let the dogs outside.”

“Okay.”

I chose comfort for the commute with my favorite black Nike slippers and carried my Jimmy Choo pumps in the dust bag I keep them protected in. I didn’t bother switching purses, although the Chanel one is no match to this dress. No one’s going to see it and right now, I don’t give a shit.

While sitting on the bed, I texted Chad to take pictures of the agenda and send it over so that I can glance over it once I hit traffic, because there’s no doubt that maybe forty minutes into the commute, I will. If I can get a head start on reading over it, our briefing will be a few minutes and I’ll be able to take somewhat of a cat nap before we’re on air. If I’m not mistaken, Isaiah Thomas is coming by to speak with us today about how he’s adjusting to life in Cleveland. Boston’s decision to trade him was one hell of a shocker to the public and a blow that he took extremely personally after not only dedicating all of his loyalty to the team, but even continuing to do so after the loss of his sister. So, no matter how worn out I am, I certainly want to be alert to ask him a few of my own burning questions.

Yet again, I did my best to remain quiet as I maneuvered through the second floor of the house and descended down the staircase to the first. No one else was awake with the exception of us and the dogs, who were all highly alert and within close proximity to me.

“I thought you’d come down sooner.” He was in the silver reflective goose coat that he greeted me in last night and I’m even more in love with it now. If I can’t find it to buy on my own, I’m going to plead with him for his because he’s probably never going to wear it again. I have some Maison Martin Margiela boots that would be perfect with it.

“I’m dragging. What’s that?”

“Your breakfast.” In one hand is what appears to be some kind of a green thick smoothie and in the other is a bag with God knows what in it. He hates coffee and the way it makes him feel, so the smoothie makes sense.

“Thank you, babe.”

“Uhm. You coming back here when you get off?” With every inch we moved closer to the door, his four-legged protectors were right along with us.

“After I drop by my mom’s.”

“Okay.”

The awaiting SUV completely caught me off guard because I hadn’t requested a driver. Should I have? Absolutely, because I don’t feel like driving, but did I? Nope. I didn’t do a lot of things that I should have done this week. This is why I need to spend my weekend in the bed.

“You called?”

“You’re tired.”

His simple explanation made more sense than anything that I can think of.

“While you’re at work, think about coming to Louisiana with me.” He held my things while I slid into the backseat. Louisiana?

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No.”

“What’s in Louisiana?”

“Home.” I already knew the answer and yet I asked.

“I’ll consider it.”

“That’s all I ask. Gimmie them lips.” There was no hesitation. If anything, it was lingering and nearly enough to make me truant on ESPN.

“I’ll be watching.”

“Thank you. See you later.” I snuck another taste of his lips for a good day and closed the door on my own.

I prepared to nearly gag at the green concoction he blended together for me, but ended up pleasantly surprised at its appeasing taste. Though it was kale, the medley of pineapple, mango, and banana served as a balance. Inside of the bag? Chobani yogurt, crackers, and Sargento string cheese. He remembered my odd choices for a favorite snack. I never remember to put together any of that stuff the night before or right before I’m leaving out for work. I don’t even need to stop for a crappy sandwich at Dunkin Donuts now. I owe him, because this is perfect.

“Any requests for the radio ma’am or should I turn the Bluetooth on?”

“Bluetooth, please.”

I let my Stevie Wonder playlist on Apple Music do its thing. “Signed, Sealed, Delivered” instantly began my usual solo backseat party. Usually it happens on a Friday as I’m on my way home from work, but on this particular Friday, I’ll be partying both ways.

Louisiana sounds like a nice trip.

#fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #odell beckham jr fanfic #odell beckham fanfic

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xmagicxshopx · 5 years

Text

Moon Monsters - Chapter 4

Genre: Fantasy Adventure, Romance (possible smut later), Comedy Rating: PG-13 Warnings: none at this time Pairing: Jungkook x reader, Jimin x oc, Taehyung x oc Notes: werewolf!bts au. Not idol!bts. Same goes for GOT7. Single quote marks ‘ ‘ are for thoughts and double “ “ are for talking. Additional Notes: I proof read some of it and I made myself cry towards the end. XD

Tagging: @och-ako @kfictionstories @trcvias @justbangtanandjams @lizardsocial @breadcaaat

Summary: You’re the CEO’s new personal assistant. But there’s something strange about him and the company you work for.

SERIES MASTERLIST

“Okay, ladies. Where to first?”

“Can we save the manicures and pedicures for last?”

You stood there unknowingly fidgeting with Jungkook’s credit card still in your hands. It was still crazy to think that you were really holding someone else’s bank account in your hands so easily. Trying to genuinely listen and even take part in the conversation, you spoke up and said casually,

“Actually that would make sense. This way while we’re searching for and trying on clothing, we won’t mess the polish up.”

You noticed Black Widow looked so relieved that she could probably pass out. When noticing your stare, the female smiled sheepishly in apology and explained just as much,

“Sorry. It’s just......I have social anxiety. So this is kind of hard for me.”

“Actually we both have the same diagnosis. Big crowds are hard for us. But we’ve been looking forward to this day and getting to meet you and getting to know you. So here we are.”

You were extremely touched by their words. Here you were moping and feeling sorry for yourself when these two sweet girls were out here facing something as strong and intimidating as anxiety and it was all for you? Were you worth that much? Personally you didn’t think so but you were touched and thankful all the same. Putting on a small smile of gratitude, you spoke up timidly,

“Well I appreciate you girls coming out today. I just hope I don’t end up being a party pooper.”

“Nonsense. Widow and I are happy to be here. Besides, we need some new clothes and I’m looking for a pair of nice sandals since the weather is finally getting nice. The blossoms are so beautiful!”

And so the three of you started your journey. First stop was one of the department stores that sold some pretty cute clothing. Especially since everyone was coming out with their Summer line since Spring was already here. Of course the first section you hit up was the clearance rack. Mostly it was stuff from Winter season but you didn’t care. One man’s trash was another man’s treasure.

“What about this one, Widow?”

You glanced up to see Mama Bird holding up a dress from the dwindling Spring Collection while Black Widow was holding up her phone so she could take a picture and send it to her boyfriend. Speaking of......

“Ouch! It bit me! Do you see that?! It bit me!”

“Oh will you calm down. He’s just barely old enough to be away from his mother’s milk. Like he could cause that much damage. You’re not even bleeding.”

Taehyung pouted as he held the squirming.....surprise.....in his arms. Him and Jimin were currently at the checkout line with items needed for this particular surprise. Just one piece of something much grander that would be waiting for you once the sun went down. If only you knew what was in store for you. The boys were more than excited for this. It had been a long long time since the pack was on such an important mission. Speaking of........

“What if red isn’t her color? Besides, isn’t it true that red ones are more likely to be pulled over?”

“Good point......So maybe stick with the classic black? Black is sexy, right?”

Namjoon glanced over at the employee who had been following him and Jin around for at least a good two hours. The poor guy deserved a raise after all of this but the boys just wanted to make sure they made the absolutely best choice for you. Money wasn’t an issue, it was just making sure they picked out something you’d like and could get behind.

“It’d be easier to buy her a ring. Can’t we just buy her jewelry? That’ll make her just as happy, right?”

“Do you want Jungkook to cut off your balls?”

Namjoon quickly turned to the male employee and raised a hand while saying casually, “My apologies for the choice of words.”

“No worries, man. As long as I make a sale today.”

Speaking of.......

“Oh my god! It’s gorgeous! Look at her, Widow! And it’s on sale!”

It took at least two department stores for the girls to convince you to steer away from the clearance racks that had practically nothing on them. In all honesty, they were right. There was nothing but extremely picked over winter clothing and who was going to wear that at this time of year? Not you. That’s for sure.

So there you stood outside the dressing room in a cute outfit handpicked by Mama Bird herself. Your cheeks turned warm in a blush as Black Widow took a picture. Seems she was taking her boyfriend’s conditions very seriously. It was kind of cute, really. It was more than obvious that she valued Taehyung’s opinion.

“Tae says it looks great!”

“Good. We were gonna buy it even if he didn’t like it. We’re just making him think he’s in charge of our wardrobes.”

Mama Bird’s words made all three girls laugh. Even you. It was true, getting out and shopping was definitely distracting you. There were a couple times you actually forgot about all your troubles. It was then you heard a heavy sigh that actually wasn’t your own.

“Tae wants me to look at lingerie. Shall we go there next and get it out of the way?”

“Might as well. I actually need some too. Jiminnie tore up my last set. I made him sleep on the couch that night.”

“Ouch. So did you.....”

“I left him hard as a rock.”

Both you and Widow made an “oooohhhh” sound along with matching winces. Honestly, from what you had learned so far about the sweet Mama Bird, that kind of behavior surprised you. That was when she explained that she had told Jimin time and time again to stop destroying her lingerie sets but he would never seem to listen. You supposed tearing clothing off his girl must have been a kink of Jimin’s. Part of you wanted to ask if the male had yet to learn his lesson.

“Pick something out for yourself too, girly. Something that will make Kook drool all over you.”

Needless to say, you literally choked on your own inhale and your own saliva at the same time. Clearing your throat after feeling Widow gently pat your back, you looked over at Mama Bird like she had grown two heads.

“W-What?”

“Oh come on. Haven’t you seen the way Jungkook looks at you?”

“I---N-No?”

You were honestly left speechless. What did they mean by that? What kind of looks was your coworker giving you? Sure Jungkook was being extremely nice right now but that was just.....well.....normal right? You looked between the girls and couldn’t tell if they were teasing you or what but it made you a bit uneasy.

“Well we think he has the hots for you. And besides. He’s a handsome guy who’s single and you’re a beautiful woman who’s single. Nothing wrong with having a little bit of fun, right?”

“Oh my gosh----guys----he’s my coworker. I don’t----We aren’t-----”

“Aigoo you’re so cute! Widow isn’t she adorable!?”

After helping you cool down from your blush, the two girls left you alone for a few minutes so that they could look for some lingerie of their own. You were pretty sure you had heard Mama Bird mumbling something about her next set being made of barbwire so that Jimin couldn’t destroy it. But you were pretty sure that would be a lose-lose situation for both of them. More like an ouch-ouch situation.

Being left to your own devices, you couldn’t stop thinking about what the girls had said. Did.....Could......Was it really possible that Jungkook thought of you in ways other than just a coworker? Was that why he was so eager to have you move in with him? You didn’t know what to think or how to feel. It was probably just the girls trying to play matchmaker. Yeah. That’s what you’d chalk it up to. Staring down at your phone, you decided to send the male a quick text.

You: Having fun doing guy stuff?

It was almost like he was waiting for you to text him as his reply came faster than you were expecting.

Jungkook: Yep! Having fun doing girl stuff?

You: It’s helping.

What were you supposed to say? Then again, you supposed you asked for that. Staring down at your phone screen at your own pitiful reply, you could see where the male was already typing something in response.

Jungkook: It’s going to get better. I promise. Soon.

“So who you texting? I’m sure it’s not Jungkook.”

“Yah. Leave me alone, Mama Bird!”

The two girls softly giggled at you as you blushed about three different shades of red and playfully swatted at them. Good gravy what were you? A teenager? With a huff, you stuffed your phone back in your purse and focused on finding a set of lingerie. Just one set couldn’t hurt.....right? Speaking of......

“How many should we get? One or two?”

Yoongi stood there looking bored out of his mind while watching Hoseok going over the display of decorative pillows with a fine tooth comb. To be honest, the shorter male didn’t see the point in them. They weren’t useful. Just for decoration. But his pack brother insisted you needed some nice touches to your new home.

“I say one.”

“I’m getting two, just to be safe.”

The platinum blonde saw that response coming from a mile away. Hoseok was so predictable in that way. Rolling his eyes when the younger wasn’t looking, the two pillows then got stuffed in the second cart. Yes. Hoseok had gotten just a little too carried away and the next thing they knew, one cart turned into two shopping carts. Speaking of........

“Ugh. Why don’t shopping malls have shopping carts available??? My hands are killing me. These bags are so heavy.”

“Girl. This ain’t a grocery store. We’ve not even started shoe shopping yet. You’ve got a long way to go.”

“Can’t we at least put these in the cars, first?”

“Good idea. Actually that’s a brilliant idea. I’m starting to see why Taehyung calls you Miss Korea. You’ve got the beauty and the brains.”

And that was when the three of you walked out to the parking lot to hunt down both Mama Bird’s and Black Widow’s cars. You felt a tinge of jealousy once more upon remembering that you in fact had no car. Again.....who would want to steal your car? Was it a target on your back or were you just the lucky winner of a random robbery? It continued to puzzle you as you carefully put your stuff in Black Widow’s trunk.

“On to shoe shopping! Ladieeesss....Forward, march!”

You were starting to genuinely feel better as each girl hooked one of their arms around yours so that you were sandwiched between them. Was this what it was like to have friends? Real friends? A small, real smile found it’s way onto your face as you thought about it. Maybe Jungkook was right. Maybe things would get better sooner than you thought. Speaking of........

The youngest male of the Bangtan pack paced around nervously as he listened to everything happening in his apartment. It smelled like paint fumes to high heaven but he could care less. They had gotten a lot done in such a short amount of time but there was much more to be done. He couldn’t thank his pack brothers enough. Hell, even some of the Lucky Seven pack members were here. And that was when he felt hands on his shoulders gently turning him around.

Yugyeom. He was the same age as Jungkook and therefore the two got along extremely well. Smiling in warm amusement, the male spoke in a teasing tone,

“Relax, Jungkookie. You’re going to wear out your floors before she even gets to enjoy them.”

“Oh my god! He peed on me! This is Gucci you just peed on!”

The two boys stared down the hallway and knew exactly what had happened. They both snickered and laughed before things grew slightly tense once more. Jungkook looked back over to his friend and saw that look on his face.

“What?”

“Are you going to ask her out or what?”

“Ah----I can’t do that right now. She just lost everything precious to her. She’s got to be overwhelmed right now. And besides, she might not even want to think about dating someone right now.”

“Good point. Well when you decide to make a move, let me know ahead of time. I know a really great restaurant you could take her to. She’d love it.”

“I don’t know. She’s not really into fancy things, from what I’ve gathered in just this morning. You should have seen the look on her face when I handed her my credit card. I’ve been monitoring the purchases and she’s got to be shopping nothing but clearance.”

“You’re lucky, then. My girl wants nothing but the newest and greatest. She’s lucky we make such good money together.”

Jungkook stared down at his phone. Anyone who was on the outside looking in could tell the poor boy was like a lovesick puppy wasting away in front of his phone waiting for his girl to either text him or give him a call.

“Jungkook. Come in and see what you think. We need opinions.”

Speaking of......

“Okay so I need opinions? What do you girls think? And no we’re not asking for Tae’s. What he don’t know won’t hurt him.”

You stared at the two girls as you showed them the pair of heels you were sporting. As much fun as you were having shopping for fun, you also needed to shop for work. Since all of your clothing including work clothes were now gone, you had nothing to wear for work Monday. Shoes included.

“I think they’re gorgeous. But are they comfortable? Heels kill my feet. Just saying.”

“Widow’s got a point. And! Walking up and down the shoe aisle is not the same as walking in them for seven hours. Gotta remember that too.”

You pouted as you realized they were both right and had excellent points. Man. Starting over was rough. All the heels you owned before had all been broken in and were pretty comfy. But now you had absolutely no shoes broken in and that was a beep to go through.

“Just go for some nice dressy sandals till you can break in some heels while walking around the apartment.”

“That’s a good idea, actually.”

“I got your back, girlfriend.”

“So after this, we’ve done dress shopping, lingerie shopping, shoe shopping......what else?”

You picked off the items with your fingertips while staring between the two girls. As you stood there in pause and mid counting, you could see Mama Bird giving Black Widow a particular look that caused the later to whine. At first you couldn’t understand what the problem was. But then it hit you. They were supposed to get manicures and pedicures sometime today.

“I can take a really long time finding some dressy sandals?”

“Yes. Please do. Take all the time in the world.”

Speaking of........

“Come on, hurry up. We don’t got all the time in the world here.”

Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t Jungkook who was being pushy. It was Taehyung. Some would say he was just grumpy that the ‘surprise’ had peeded on his Gucci brand sandals. Or maybe it was just Jimin saying that. Maybe. Possibly.

Furniture had been bought but now it needed to be put together. While Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jaebum worked on putting things like dressers and such together, Jungkook, Hoseok, and Yugyeom were working on making your bed look presentable. Jin and Jimin were working on the walls while Taehyung got to be babysitter and potty trainer of the ‘surprise’.

“Why can’t I help Jin hyung?”

“Because you suck with a paint brush. That’s why.”

Speaking of........

The three girls stood outside the nail salon. The only nail salon that didn’t have a waiting list a mile long. You glanced over to notice Black Widow tugging at her fingers nervously and gently reached out with a hand of your own to gently cover the fidgeting digits.

“Hey. It’s okay. We don’t have to do this.”

“But I don’t want to disappoint Taehyung.”

“You wouldn’t be doing this for Taehyung. You’d be doing this for yourself.”

Your words seemed to resonate with the black haired female for she glanced over at you with slightly wide eyes. Offering her a warm smile, you glanced over at their other gal pal and nodded before saying,

“We’ll support you no matter what. If you want to go in, we’ll be right there with you. And if you don’t want to go, we’ll find something else to do that’s just as fun.”

There was a long pause before......

“Will you tell them what I want?”

“As long as you pick out your colors.”

“Deal.”

Speaking of........

“Okay. I’ll take him if you help them with the mirror.”

“Deal. Here. He’s all yours.”

Jungkook playfully rolled his eyes as the second youngest of the Bangtan pack handed over the now very loud surprise. The male was pretty sure the poor thing needed fed again. Heading to the kitchen, he popped open the fridge door and dug out the jug of milk. Filling the eye dropper, he spook soothingly to the poor thing,

“There there. I’ll take care of you, little guy.”

As the youngest carefully fed milk through the eye dropper, he couldn’t help but turn into a nervous chatterbox once more; the little surprise probably being the only willing listener at this point.

“I hope your mama is happy to see you when she comes home. She’s been through a lot these last 24 hours. She lost everything, you know? Her home, her things, her car. Everything. But we’re going to make mama smile again, okay? You’ll help me, right little guy?”

‘You’ll make an amazing father to your pups, little one. The Moon Goddess would be pleased.’

Watching the little surprise practically inhale the milk from the dropper and listening to his inner wolf, Jungkook couldn’t help but feel a wide eye smile forming on his face. Perhaps he wouldn’t make such a bad dad?

Speaking of.......

“I’m telling you, Taehyung is going to want a soccer team. So you better prepare your pussy.”

“Oh my god did you just say that out loud???”

“I believe she did.”

Okay so maybe you were a little tipsy. The plan was to get you loosened up so you could forget about the major loss you had experienced several hours ago. But one drink turned into two and then three and yeah. The three of you were at a pretty decent restaurant that didn’t require reservations. Widow’s pick. As you ate dinner, the topic of the boys came up and how they’d all make great dads someday.

“I bet Miss Korea over here wouldn’t mind being Jungkookie’s baby mama.”

You nearly spat your cocktail back into the glass when you heard those words leave Mama Bird’s mouth. Blushing from more than just being tipsy, you took the cloth napkin and wiped your face a bit. Pouting cutely, you shook your head and said defiantly,

“No way. He probably has cooties or something. Besides, isn’t it true that he’s slept with every girl in the company building?”

The two girls paused like statues. Mama Bird was in the middle of taking a bite and Black Widow was about to take a sip of her own cocktail. Setting utensils and cups down, they looked at each other in extreme confusion before both looking at you for some kind of explanation.

“We’re sorry, what?”

“Well yeah......That’s the story, right? He just sleeps around, right? I mean I’m not judging but-----”

“Girl. I don’t know who you heard that from. But that’s not Jungkook. That’s Jackson. Jackson Wang.”

Jackson.........

AN HOUR LATER.....

“Thanks for everything, girls. I had a lot of fun today.”

“Not a problem. Widow and I were happy to spend time with you and get to know you.”

The three of you stood outside what apparently was Jungkook’s apartment door. You don’t remember it because you had passed out drunk the night before. Thankfully the girls knew his apartment number and how to get in with the tenant code. All of the shopping bags had been left out in the car with Black Widow claiming the guys could help pack it all up. What you didn’t understand was......what made Widow think all the guys were at Jungkook’s place?

With a couple knocks provided by Mama Bird, she announced they were back with all three credit cards in one piece before the door barely cracked open and out popped........Namjoon?

“Oh! Yes. Come on in. Join the party.”

Party?? What???

With a gentle nudge from the girls behind you and Namjoon opening the door all the way, you stumbled a bit not only from the alcohol in your system, but from confusion and being caught off guard.

“Surprise!”

The chorus confused you even more as streamers flew everywhere and noises were made. Blinking and looking around in confusion, you could now see where Jungkook’s entire living room had been decorated as if to......

Welcome someone home......

Tears immediately sprang up around your eyes as you took in the ‘WELCOME HOME’ banner and some of the boys wearing those cheesy party hats. You even noticed some envelopes and small gift bags were all huddled up together on the coffee table. All of this was.....for you?

“Guys......I........I don’t know what to say.”

“Oh it’s not over yet. We’ve got------”

But Hoseok was interrupted by a sound that was high in pitch and had your heart and stomach both doing flip flops. Looking all around, you watched something extremely small waddling and even stumbling out of the hallway. You first let your mouth hang open but then quickly covered both your mouth and nose with both hands as you watched......

“His name is Swiper. Because he tries to swipe the other cat’s treats and he’s orange like Swiper the Fox. You know----From Dora the Explorer. We picked him up at the local cat cafe on the corner.”

“Not to mention he took several swipes at me. And peed on me. Little monster.”

By this point, the two girls had joined the party and Namjoon had closed and locked the door. Black Widow was playfully hitting her mate’s arm as he was being his usual dramatic self while Jimin and Mama Bird snickered at his pain.

You on the other hand, you had since then gently picked up the tiny kitten and was cradling him in your hands. He was so tiny. Perhaps he was the runt of his liter. You didn’t care. He was precious. And you couldn’t help but notice he was orange. More tears rolling down your face, you looked up and singled out the one person in the crowd who knew. You knew it had to have been him.

“Jungkookie.”

You hated how your voice cracked. In front of all these people. As you struggled to keep yourself together. The male who had been singled out quickly approached you and it was almost like he was trying to curtain you from the audience that had accumulated in the room.

“I hope you like him.”

“Pabo. I love him. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know. And I know Swiper can’t replace Garfield. And he’s not going to. Now you have Garfield and Swiper.”

“Jungkook----”

“Shhh. I know. I know. It’s a lot. I didn’t want to overwhelm you but I just couldn’t help it. You lost everything and.....I just wanted to give it all back to you.”

You were now bawling as you carefully cradled the tiny orange kitten to your chest and Jungkook cradled you to his. He smiled sheepishly at everyone but they just gave smiles and nods of understanding. He knew this was probably way over the top and not what you were ready for but he just.....couldn’t help it. Gently pulling you away from his chest, he looked down at you and gently wiped your tears away with his sleeve before saying softly,

“There’s only two more surprises left.”

“Good gravy. Only two?”

“I know. But I think you’ll like them both.”

“It’s pretty hard to top this surprise, Kookie.”

He chuckled; glad that you truly loved Swiper. Admittedly, he wasn’t one for cats but that was just in his canine nature. However, if this little kitten made you this happy, then he could be happy with felines too. Hell, cats loved Jimin. So maybe this kitten will love Jungkook too.

“Come on, kid. Show her the room so we can head out of here. It’s past my bedtime.”

“Yeah, Yoongi hyung needs his beauty sleep.”

Rolling his eyes, the youngest smiled down at you before gently guiding you down the hall with Swiper still safely in your hands and napping peacefully against your chest; just like a human baby. Standing in front of a door you don’t remember seeing, you felt and watched Jungkook reach around you to open the door and you just about hit the floor in shock.

It was beautiful.

A room fit for a modern princess. Soft cream and pale pink colors all blending together perfectly. Canopy bed with shimmering transparent fabrics hanging everywhere. A beautiful vanity set with a huge mirror mounted to the wall. A desk made of beautiful wood painted white and a white leather executive chair to match. An elegant closet and dresser were both made of the same white wood. You had the perfect view of the city too with the help of the one outside glass wall that the apartment building possesses.

“I-----I-----”

“Go ahead. Walk in. This is yours now.”

With a gentle push from Jungkook, you managed to get your feet working as you carefully walked into the room. It was absolutely beautiful. Sure the paint fumes lingered a bit but that didn’t bother you in the least. You were speechless at best. How could you even begin to say anything that came close to a proper thank you? This really truly was overwhelming but.....Yeah. Your mind and heart were on overload.

“I think we broke her, Kook.”

“She can’t do that yet. We’ve got one last surprise for her.”

You perked up when you heard Jaebum of all people speak up about one last surprise. Honestly, you were kind of glad it was the last one because you weren’t sure your heart could take much more. Not that you were ungrateful. In fact, you were more than grateful and you couldn’t believe your heart hadn’t exploded with gratitude yet.

“Come on. We gotta go outside for this one. Oh. And you’ll need this. But don’t look inside yet.”

You were handed a small gift bag and ended up handing it to Jungkook because you weren’t about to let go of the precious baby kitten in your arms. No way. Everyone actually found it quite cute and amusing but you just pouted down at the little one as he looked up at you with his small head but huge round eyes; mewling softly up at you. You were definitely in love.

Once outside, you were gently forced to trade with Jungkook as you handed him Swiper and he handed you the gift bag. Reluctantly taking your eyes off the orange kitten, you stared down at the gift bag and noticed how everyone was waiting tensely. You couldn’t help but notice even the girls were tense with anticipation......they knew about all of this too???

“What......are these???”

“Don’t ask such a silly question. Hit the unlock button.”

With a mixture of a pout and glare both, you huffed at Yoongi’s response but did as you were told and hit the unlock button on the key fob. Some of the guys softly chuckled collectively when you jumped a bit as the vehicle next to you lit up. Confused, you tested the key set again and hit the unlock button only to see the vehicle’s lights yet again flash; indicating that it was unlocked. Walking around it in a full circle, you exclaimed louder than you meant to,

“You got me a Hyundai Palisade?!!?”

#werewolf!bts #wolf!bts #bts #jungkook x reader #jimin x oc #taehyung x oc #werewolf!got7 #wolf!got7 #bts fanfic #bts scenario #kpop scenario #kpop fanfic #s;moonmonsters

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obsidiancreates · 5 years

Text

The Wrong-Size Pile

Evelyn fanned herself with her hand. “God, I hate summer.”

Ashlyn stared at her, shocked. “What?! How can you say that?!”

“The heat,” Evelyn said, panting.

“I thought you did very well in extreme temperatures,” Haley pointed out.

“Yeah, when I’m in magic mode! In human mode I just roast.” Evelyn took a long drink of lemonade.

“Maybe you shouldn’t wear jeans and boots,” Haley advised. Evelyn shook her head.

“I already gave up my jacket to this heat. I’m not losing more.”

“Well, if you don’t loose the jeans and boots, you’ll loose your health.” Haley spoke with a light, easygoing tone, yet her words held a great power in them. Common sense and logic.

Evelyn crossed her arms. “Fine. You’re right about that, I admit it. But I don’t have any spare clothes with me, so it’s not helpful right now.”

“Can’t you just magic us over to your house?” Ashlyn asked, not looking up from her ongoing sketch of a fabulous wizard from a DnD podcast she’d recently started listening to.

“Sadly, nah. I can go from here to The Forest, and that’s about it.” She sighed. “I mean, Mom thinks I might be able to someday, but that’s like, decades away.”

Ashlyn finished the rough outline of the wizard’s hat. “You could borrow something from me.”

“Thanks Ash, but I don’t think we’re the same size.”

“No, but I have this pile of clothes that are the wrong size for me, so maybe that’ll have something for you.”

Haley looked at Ashlyn curiously. “Why do you have a pile of clothes that don’t fit you?”

“Sometimes I buy clothes thinking they’re the right size, but then when I get home I remember that women’s clothes sizes are completely unreasonable. And then I say I’ll return them, but ADHD happens, and... yeah. They stay in a pile.” Ashlyn got up. “Come on, let’s go look.”

The three went to Ashlyn’s bedroom. Ashlyn opened up her closet and pulled a wad of clothes down from the shelf at the top. She dumped it on the floor, then plopped down beside it.

Evelyn and Haley shared a look, shrugged, and did the same.

“Okay, let’s see...” Ashlyn began digging through the pile. “Maybe these?” She held up a pair of dark green denim shorts.

Evelyn shook her head. “Nah.”

“What’s wring with them?”

“Why did they make the denim green? It’s blue. Colored denim annoys me.”

Ashlyn tossed the shorts back on the pile. “Oh, you’re just upset they don’t match your whole aesthetic thing.”

“Maybe so.” Evelyn rummaged around a bit. “Hmm!”

Haley leaned over. “Found something?”

“Not for me,” Evelyn said, “but I think you could rock this.” She lifted up a soft gray tank top with pale pink roses on the front.

“Oh!” Haley took the bottom of the top in her hands. “Oh wow, this is really soft. And the material is nice and light...”

“I remember that one,” Ashlyn said. “It was a little too long on me for my taste. Ended up looking like a very awkward lengthed dress. I think it could work on you, though.”

Evelyn handed it to Haley, who put it in her lap. They kept looking.

“What about this?” Haley brought out a blue skirt, with pockets on the sides. “It’s a skort,” she said, flipping it over to reveal the built-in shorts. “I know you usually like pants more, so maybe this is a good compromise?”

Evelyn too the skort. “Huh, Yeah, I actually kind of like this.” She put it next to her. “Let’s keep looking though. This is kind of fun.”

They dug around some more. Eventually each girl had their own mini-pile. Ashlyn had even found some clothes that she thought deserved a second chance.

Evelyn helped Ashlyn stuff the rest of the pile back into the top of the closet while Haley, having had an idea that she was refusing to share, went to the living room.

“Can we come out yet?” Evelyn yelled after a few minutes.

“Yes! Come on out!” Haley shouted back.

Evelyn and Ashlyn walked out. Ashlyn clapped her hands together in delight, and Evelyn let out a little gasp.

Haley had found a long roll of red felt (one of Ashlyn’s more recent short-lived hyperfixations had been making stuff out of felt) and used it to make a makeshift red carpet. She’d gotten a string of Christmas lights that Ashlyn had forgotten to take down and used that to line the outside of the felt carpet. She had gotten out more lemonade, and to top it all off, she’d made a fake announcer by taping a drawing of a face holding a microphone to a bag of flour.

“I thought we could have some sort of fake fashion show!” Haley clasped her hands together in front of her. “Does it look good?”

“This is fu- er, freaking great, Haley!” Evelyn assured. Haley beamed.

Ashlyn grabbed a glass of lemonade and took a gulp. “Okay, models! Let’s do this!”

(It was then that Sid had to stop or else she would literally pass out (okay maybe not literally but you get what I mean) so she just ended it there.)

@victory-cookies @a-humble-narcissus

#My OCs #My writing #writeblr #writing #Evelyn Serenatis #Ashlyn Searson #Haley Amandi #I put in a TAZ reference for Vic!#Ashlyn is drawing Takko!#:D

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witchqueenofthemoon · 6 years

Text

BODY AND SOUL Part 16 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: OKAY DUCKENZIES. This part dragged my ass. It took forever, but once again, I’m so happy with it. My schedule has been punishing. I can’t stop writing and never feel like doing anything else but I have a full time job and my relationship and all this other shit in my life and I have to sleep sometimes and I’m trying to find a balance. But I’m so happy lately? I’m so lit all the time, everyone I know IRL is like “what is UP with you” because I’m writing a book (this, this is the book) and I’m fucking beside myself, I’m so relieved about it, I’m so happy about it all the time but I’m also having a hard time disconnecting from it to plug into other things lately. Still working out how to do that. The thought Kenzie has about Duncan in the beginning of this part (”...you are exalted in my eyes and my body and my soul”) is literally a thought she had about him in another life, and she will never know that. Plume has a really fancy three-course menu that I didn’t feel like writing about at length, so I sort of chose one thing for each of them off it and skipped the rest. Here’s A SUNDAY KIND OF LOVE, imo one of the best love songs of all time. The man who got upstairs at Kenzie’s work and tried to hurt her will feature again. I listened to this remix of Imogen Heap’s Headlock a lot for the sex (69 dudes) in this part (sex which I am very proud of if I may say so, I can write a goddamn sex scene y’all--THREE SEX SCENES THANKS); cuz the mood in that is VERY sex-vibe Duckenzie. Duncan’s dream that Kenzie is an angel is based on @inkedbadwolfart‘s ICONIC Michael x Mallory piece. Deep Creek Lake is real but the cabin I’m creating that belongs to the Shepherd family is of my own invention. I’ve never liked “Dunc” as a nickname for Duncan and it doesn’t really fit Duckenzie, so I came up with another nickname I like more and Kenzie will indeed call him Dunny every now and then when she’s feeling particularly affectionate from here on out. This is the top Kenzie wears in the morning and this is the skirt (which I ordered the other day, can’t wait to get it!!). This is her star necklace. These are her pointed boots which she wore to Le Diplomate as well and I have them irl and they are legit my favorite shoes I own and always make me feel sexy hence them giving Kenzie that feeling too. Here’s the short-sleeved button-down Duncan puts on in the morning; summer clothes from here on out for awhile, babes. I had to put The Chain in this part; I’m a die-hard Fleetwood Mac/Stevie Nicks fan. A reminder that the MASTERPOST wants you to reblog it and pass it around because I won’t be loading the fic up on AO3 until it’s totally finished, which...I don’t know how long that’ll take? Maybe a few more weeks, maybe a month, maybe longer. Still not entirely sure where this story is ending, I figure I’ll know when I get there. The Shepherd mansion (that is, Annette’s mansion) is some kind of cross between this mansion and this one in my mind. The chairs in the dressing room look like this. To my beloved Duckenzies: @impiorumrequies, @hi-ilovedamien, @nat-de-lioncourt, @ladywriter94, @leiwya, @icouldrun, @killcort, @starscavengers, @carousallie, the list goes on--I love you more than words can express. THANK YOU.

“I would like for you, Mackenzie, to do a few interviews with us next week.” Kenzie refocused on Duncan’s mother; her thoughts had been full of Duncan’s eyes (sky and storm) since he had gazed at her so lovingly and pushed something into her; wrapped his love around me, like a blanket made of softest gold, that’s what it felt like, and I pushed it out of me and onto Annette and then her face fell and she looked so confused and then she softened...the anger in her eyes towards me dissolved and now her eyes look the way I think they probably looked when she was a girl, a girl who wanted something else; wanted to be loved, wanted to love. A wave of affection for Duncan had crashed into Kenzie, and she couldn’t help but gaze over to him with fierce devotion; you are my Prince, most beloved to me, and you are exalted in my eyes and my body and my soul. The thought had fallen, soft as a sheer curtain, over her sight and her mind, as if it were something she’d read in a book somewhere and forgotten; and she had stared at him and flowers had bloomed in her thoughts to behold him; and the moment had extended, spread out far beyond itself, and she had felt the weight of time and the depth of his love for her again and she was lost in it for a little while.

“It’s important...that if you and Duncan are going to be...together...you understand your new responsibilities as a part of the public face of Shepherd Unlimited.” Annette spoke with a strange slowness, as if something was holding her back, and Kenzie couldn’t decide if it was the heavy energy that now hovered in the room (something that passed between Duncan and I, I don’t understand what it was, but it had some kind of power) or Annette’s own inability to say what she was truly thinking or feeling. Or her inability to accept the idea of them, truly together. Whatever the reason, Kenzie looked away from her; she found Annette terribly beautiful, but Duncan’s mother had a strange coldness that raised the hairs on Kenzie’s neck, drained the blood from her fingers. As Annette spoke, she seemed to gain momentum, falling back into her clipped cadence. “That will include making public appearances with us and coordinated communication with the press. I’m sure Duncan has mentioned this, but I expect you to come to the house tomorrow to do a fitting for the Gala. Everything has to be carefully planned, it’s the most important public event of the year for the organization. From now on, you’ll be expected to present yourself publicly with physical, verbal, and behavioral sophistication. Duncan himself has been a poor example of that lately.”

Kenzie looked back across the table to Duncan; his eyes betrayed none of his discomfort, but she felt his annoyance, drifting in dark colors: To hell with sophistication, keeping her safe is what I care about. If she isn’t happy, nothing else matters. His thoughts fell over her with fierce warmth; Kenzie felt as though she could drink them, swallow them, absorb them, feel them as though his fingers were all over her.

“Mackenzie, do you understand me?” Annette took another long drink from her wine glass, eyes hovering across the table at Kenzie.

“I...yes, Annette. I think so.”

“That article published today was an opposition to the company. I expect you to turn down editorials of that nature in the future.”

Kenzie was silent, pressing her lips together. No, I don’t think so. I’m going to write about what I feel strongly about. Or why write at all.

The waiter returned at that moment, mercifully, and Kenzie breathed a silent, internal sigh of relief. She had the distinct feeling that Annette not only did not tolerate being lied to, but that she was preternaturally skilled at sniffing out said lies; that she could pinpoint them with precision and yank them out of a person. Better to lapse into silence than to lie to her, I think. Annette ordered foie gras; Duncan ordered lobster. Kenzie looked down the menu, lost; she hadn’t even contemplated food under Annette’s steely gaze, and it seemed to be in a foreign language, suddenly.

“I think you’d love the risotto, Kenzie,” Duncan said to her gently. She nodded to him gratefully and said “I’ll have that.” Thanks baby. Affection washed over her again and he gave her a little smile. Baby, you’re doing so good. Just a little bit longer and we’ll be done. Soon, we can escape. Annette ordered another bottle of wine; the one she’d had on the table when they’d come in was already half empty. Duncan’s mother tipped it carefully into Kenzie’s wine glass, filling it about a third of the way, and pushed the stem closer to Kenzie, pointedly. Then, she poured another glass for Duncan.

“To the continued success of Shepherd Unlimited and our dynasty.” Annette raised her glass and nodded to both of them with stern expectation. Duncan raised his and nodded at Kenzie a little; she brought hers up with a timid hand and Annette clinked against it with a sharp tap. Kenzie drank a small sip of the wine; hope it isn’t poisoned, she thought wildly, watching Annette drink from her glass again, eyes skirting over to Duncan taking a deep gulp of his, as if he were terribly thirsty and it was water. Duncan looks so beautiful. But he always does. His hair fell over his forehead, perfect waves down the sides, falling behind his ears. The velvet blazer gave him an almost royal appearance; like his throne was sitting in some vast chamber somewhere, waiting for him. His straight nose and full lips were like a statue carved by a master sculptor; he seemed too lovely to her to be real, I don’t think I’ll ever stop thinking that, feeling that way, like he’d been molded from the first human clay and every piece of come after had been slightly less. He pressed one long hand against the side of the stubble at his cheek; I want to bury my fingers in that stubble, I want to breathe it deeply into my senses, impossibly intense blue eyes carefully switching between the two women sitting in front of him, warily at Annette, with aching affection at Kenzie, then back again.

“I am capable of putting my differences with Madeline aside if you can conduct yourself appropriately,” Annette spoke again. Her gaze slid between her son and Kenzie; she seemed to regard their obvious adoration with a mixture of disdain and incredulousness; she can see how much he loves me, and it’s upsetting her, Kenzie thought. Well, Annette, get fucking used to it.

“Do you think you can do that?”

Annette stared at her, hands around her wine glass, head cocked slightly, her eyes like dark pools. This woman is like a very dark well, Kenzie thought. And I don’t know how far down the bottom of the well is. I think it might be a very long well, and very, very dark. But she loves Duncan. I can tell. I don’t know if the love is the kind of love I know, the kind I feel for those I care for; her love is different, I think. But I do think, in his case, it’s real love, in her fashion.

“I’ll do my best, Annette.”

“Your best must be as close to perfect as you can possibly make it, dear. Or else you will not last long in our world. Steel your mind, Mackenzie. You no longer have the luxury of living anonymously. To be part of this family, however long that may be, you accept the scrutiny and criticism of the nation.”

Kenzie bit her lip, clutching her hands together in her lap. “I can handle it.”

Duncan’s eyes flickered over her, bright with intensely warm emotion. So brave, so brave, she heard him think. ....your strength around you like gold...oh, Kenzie…

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Annette replied, and Duncan said, immediately, “She can, Mom. She’s one of the bravest people I’ve ever known. She’s amazing.”

“You sound drunk already, Duncan,” Annette rolled her eyes, her expression annoyed.

“Today someone got up into her office and tried to attack her,” Duncan said, his tone going dark as he looked at his mother. “They said something about the Shepherds taking everything away from them, so they were going to take something away from the Shepherds. I hired her a bodyguard yesterday, thank god--he’s the only reason she wasn’t injured. Being thrown into our world can’t be easy, and yet she was the one who insisted we still come to dinner tonight, Mom. I was contemplating cancelling on you. Already Kenzie has proven she is more than capable of navigating this world and has the resolve it takes to weather whatever comes her way. And she deserves your respect.”

Annette was silent and looked down; there was a flicker over her features; “I didn’t know about that,” she said, carefully. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Mackenzie.”

“I’m okay,” Kenzie said, fighting to keep the trembling edge she felt out of her voice. The truth was she didn’t feel very okay at all; the incident at One Franklin Square had terrified her and Kenzie longed for nothing more than the dinner to be over and to be held in Duncan’s arms in the safety and quiet of their bed with the rain falling against the window. Sweet Fates, hurry us on to that place, through this storm, through this rain, through this difficulty, she thought, looking into his eyes, fighting the bubbling emotion that threatened her again, feeling crushed and laid bare by the beauty of his face and the love in his eyes. She wanted to tell him what had happened in her own words with her own mouth and then she wanted him to press his mouth with aching need into her body and tangle the black sheets into symbols of their passion and their love and their devotion and press his fingers into her mouth and against her throat and down between her legs, where they belong my love, where you belong, pressed against me. I want to be alone with you my love and I don’t want to be here anymore. But Kenzie knew that this was part of the test; the test of knowing if she could indeed suffer a lifetime of Annette Shepherd; if she could put her love before her exhaustion and help Duncan in this way. And so she said again, “I’m okay. I would do anything for Duncan. I will do anything.”

“God, but you do remind me of Madeline.” Annette shook her head, as if to clear away her disorientation.

Two waiters came in then with their dinner; Kenzie’s risotto was delicious, savory and sweet, and she sent warm, grateful thoughts across the table toward Duncan again; he smiled at her and she was struck with another ache to hold him, to touch him; she watched his fingers stretch out at the side of his salad fork, towards her; he tapped them a little every now and then, and she could feel his impatience, his restlessness, his aching need for her. She wondered if Annette garnered strange delight from keeping them apart like this, even across a table; Duncan’s mother seemed like the kind of person who never did anything on accident, everything, every movement and inflection and gesture, ever-calculated. She’s trying to exert her will over him, Kenzie thought. Show him that she still owns him even though he belongs to me now and his desires have changed and she wants to pretend like she can’t see it but she can and that’s what made her so disoriented. She didn’t expect to see love in his eyes when he looks at me, because she hasn’t seen it there before, not like this. But she saw it. And now she knows. Now, she can’t pretend it isn’t real, or that he’s infatuated, or what he feels is only lust. Even Annette can’t deny that Duncan Shepherd fucking loves me. He loves me. He loves me.

Kenzie couldn’t help it; she smiled at Annette, and Annette returned it, but very small, a smile that did not extend to her eyes. You think you’re going to be able to control me now, Kenzie thought. But you won’t be able to. Duncan is going to change your company. He’s going to change everything, and I’m going to help him. We’re going to take all of Shepherd Unlimited and we’re going to give its riches to people who need them and we’re going to create beautiful things and we’re going to help people and you won’t be able to stop us. I know it, deep in my bones. Kenzie turned her eyes to Duncan and he was watching her with intense concentration, a morsel of lobster paused in his fork in midair, halfway to his mouth; as if he had heard everything she’d been thinking and was struck with it, as if her could see her drawing him a map that was invisible to Annette even though she was sitting directly in front of them, and the luminous smile in his eyes filled her with a depth of glowing energy that felt like sunlight on her skin. Yes baby. Yes, we will.

-------

It was well past 10 when Annette finally released them; by then, Kenzie felt as though her body was in physical pain, such was the depth of her desire for Duncan to hold her. I thought yesterday had been long, she thought, but today was almost unbearable. Annette had insisted on discussing endless details of the most recent episode of Duncan’s show, and he answered her in clipped, short sentences. Every now and then she shot Kenzie a suspicious look and seemed to change the way she was about to say something; she thinks she can’t trust me, and she’s not necessarily wrong, Kenzie thought. Finally, Duncan had come around the table and helped her out of the seat on Annette’s left side; relief flooded her at the warm, smooth feeling of his large hand grasping around her fingers; “It’s time for us to go, Kenzie had a very long day today, Mom.” “I expect you at noon sharp, Mackenzie,” Annette had said, her eyes flashing at Kenzie with a dismissive shimmer; Duncan leaned forward and she inclined a sharp cheekbone for him to kiss. Then, Duncan pulled Kenzie out of the room with a pointed determination, leaving his mother there to her own devices; Kenzie followed behind him, dizziness washing over her in a wave as they stepped out of the cocoon of the secluded room and back into the warmer light of the restaurant, and then out to the polished foyer. She could hear the rain falling against the windows; Duncan had pulled out his phone with his other hand and was texting Samuel, then he looked at her with a terrible softness (those eyes, my love, those blue eyes) and tucked the phone back into the inner pocket of his velvet blazer, his fingers coming up to her cheek, their warmth sending a flutter of sensation down her skin.

“Baby, you did so fucking good,” he whispered down to her mouth, and Kenzie sighed at the sound of his voice, her body flooding with the relief of his touch. “God, I wanted to touch you so much, that was agony. You are so brave and I’m so proud of you, Kenzie--”

“I wanted to touch you too, baby, Duncan, I wanted to so much--” Kenzie pulled him down into her roughly by the lapels of his velvet jacket, his full lips crashing against hers with a deep heat, her hands going into his hair, those waves like fading autumn and Duncan’s hands fell down to the small of her back, pressing her tightly into him, the desperation in his touch filling her with coiled hunger, her hips grinding against his thighs. The doorman and the people at the reception desk nearby carefully ignored them; Kenzie felt grateful towards them. Four hours with Annette Shepherd unable to touch each other and I think we’ve earned this. Duncan’s phone sounded; “Come on, Samuel’s here,” he breathed into her and his breath was sweet with wine and the chocolate mousse they’d had for dessert and Kenzie heard the tiny moan that escaped from her lips as he pulled away from her, such was her need for him. “Come on baby,” Duncan said again, pulling her gently through the door, “let’s go home.”

In the shadowed backseat of the BMW Kenzie folded close against him, her shoes kicked off and her legs tucked under her; Duncan’s arm was around her and her head was in the crook of his chest, her face pressed into his smooth shirt, and Duncan was looking down at his phone; emails. “I messaged Ben today,” he murmured to her, softly, tucking his phone away, as Etta James floated towards them from the stereo again (I want a Sunday kind of love...a love to last past Saturday night...and I’d like to know...it’s more than love at first sight...), “I want you to sit in on the interview, baby, okay?” Kenzie smiled despite how tired she felt; “I’m sure Ben will love that.” “It doesn’t matter what he thinks of it, because I’m not doing it if you aren’t there.” Kenzie nodded; she looked at Duncan in the dappled color of the neon lights they passed and was struck again by how beautiful he was; feeling shy suddenly, her affection tumbling out of her, unable to be contained: “Duncan, you look so handsome right now.” He turned his head to her, smiling, and she saw the shyness in it; in him. “And you look so lovely, baby.” That he felt shy before her, too, made her heart clench. Kenzie pulled her phone out of the little clutch on the seat beside her; she opened the Instagram app on her phone as Duncan said “Baby, what are you doing...”

“I think it’s time we took a selfie together, baby,” she said, matter-of-factly. Kenzie lifted the phone above them and reversed the camera so it faced them; she looked up into it, her eyes bright and wide under her dark eyeshadow and carefully applied mascara, her head still tucked under Duncan’s arm, and he inclined his head down to her, pressing his nose gently against her hair, closing his eyes. Kenzie snapped a picture; Samuel had been driving through the glow of downtown still, and the lights had fallen over them in pink, blue and gold; over Duncan’s cheek and Kenzie’s forehead, giving the picture a haunting luminescence. Kenzie brought the picture up to her eyes--it stopped her heart, the peaceful expression on his profile, the glittering aspect of her gaze, the lights falling over them.

“We look so good together, baby--” Duncan whispered into her ear, and his lips fell into the small space below; Kenzie gasping at the sweetness of the sensation, “--you are so fucking beautiful.” Kenzie sighed into his lips, pressing closer to him as she typed: The longest day, the greatest love. She hit Share with a satisfied smile. “You always look fucking beautiful,” she argued, her voice soft. “No, you fucking do,” Duncan murmured as his lips fell down her neck, his fingers threading through her hair. “You do angel, you do…”

Kenzie was aching for him, her body pulsing with need, but she hadn’t really told him what had happened that day, and she longed to; the burden of it was pressing into her heart, and she felt as though the weight of it was crushing her. “Baby, I...wanted to tell you what happened today.” Duncan lifted his head up immediately, leaning back to look at her, his face serious. He looked over her shoulder; “We’re home, baby,” he said, and Kenzie glanced behind her to see Samuel had pulled up to the high-rise. Finally. Samuel handed the roses to Duncan carefully as they got out of the car; there were no paps anywhere, and the rain was stopping again, the thunder moving off far into the distance and a barely-there drizzle fading away, the sky finally clear. The moon had returned though it was again barely a sliver in the sky; it hung there over the building as Kenzie looked up at it, an omen of the new cycle that had begun in earnest now; my new life has begun, and my life of anonymity is gone, she thought, the echo of Annette’s words falling down. Duncan carried the flowers carefully beside her as they moved upstairs; Anchaly gave him a nod, then looked at Kenzie with a smile; “you look lovely, Miss Stone, I trust whatever was distressing you earlier has been taken care of,” and Kenzie smiled back at him, nodding. Anchaly had a new book now; it was The Year of Magical Thinking, by Joan Didion. “Yes, I’m better now, thanks, Anchaly.”

In the elevator they stared at each other, Duncan’s hands full of roses, Kenzie’s hand reaching out to tuck around his arm. “Before the man got upstairs, there had been some other people who had tried to get up, reporters from a magazine or something, I’m not really sure,” she started. “But the security downstairs caught them before they got to the elevators. The other guy was faster, I guess, and he didn’t really look like paparazzi--I don’t think he was.” The elevator slid open quietly and Kenzie used her key to open the penthouse door; Duncan continued to listen to her, quietly, as he opened the cupboard under the sink and brought out a Waterford vase for her roses, which had begun to wilt a little; fitting, because that’s how I feel too, Kenzie thought. Kenzie took the vase gently from his arms and brought it over to the coffee table alongside the low leather couch; the roses immediately threw their brilliant color against the juxtaposition of light and shadows there, one of the reading lamps switched on by the housekeepers. Kenzie looked down at them, emotion washing over her again. Then she turned to him and folded herself into him and Duncan kissed her hair and closed his eyes. “He had really wild eyes, I remember that. Like he was lost. But Harris had just gone to the bathroom...he was only away from me for a minute, I swear. The man comes up to my desk and he’s in a big overcoat and shaggy hair and he smelled...strange, sort of like gasoline. He grabbed my wrist with this terrible grip--” at that Kenzie looked down at her wrist and for the first time that day noticed a small purplish bruise that had begun to form there, Duncan reaching down delicately to examine it, bringing his lips down to her skin; “and he hisses into my face, looking right into my eyes. He said “There you are. I saw you on the videos. The Shepherds took everything away from me, so now I’m gonna take something away from the Shepherds.””

“God, baby.”

“He starts dragging me and Precious sees him but she’s too far away, she’s down at the other side of the office, and he’s so strong it feels like he’s going to snap my wrist and rip my hand out of my arm and I’m trying to get out of it but--but he’s just too fucking strong.” Kenzie felt tears in the back of her throat; she turned, pushing her hair to the side. “Unzip me, baby,” she said, and felt Duncan’s warm, long fingers between her shoulders, gently pulling the zipper down, his face pressing into her hair. Kenzie reached for his hand and then she pulled him, slowly, softly, into their bedroom (ours) and pushed the dress off her shoulders, stepping out of it, her hands coming up behind her to unclasp her bra and she could feel Duncan hovering there, close, but it was as if he was afraid to touch her. She turned and looked at him for a moment; he was still fully clothed and absolutely regal in his velvet blazer and she shivered, vulnerable; she pressed against him in just her panties now, his arms coming around the softness of her bare skin, and cradling her with his body, so much larger and so warm. “Harris comes out of the bathroom--” Kenzie continued, feeling able now that he was holding her again, “--and he sees this man pulling on me and I look at him and I scream help Harris help me and he goes up to this man and he hits him right in the throat under the chin with the flat of his hand and...the man just crumples like he’s made of paper.” Kenzie drifted her hands down the soft velvet of Duncan’s arms and turned her eyes up to him; his expression a dagger into her heart, his eyes dark with the memory of the fear she had seen there when he’d run out of the elevator and to her desk, his face white, his body shaking as she fell into his arms. “I just sort of stood there in shock for awhile, by the time I felt like I started breathing again I realized Harris was holding me up and my knees were buckling and he picked me up like I was a doll and set me in my desk chair and I just...I just burst into tears…”

“Oh Kenzie, oh, baby, oh no…” Duncan’s lips came down and kissed her eyelids, first one, then the other, his mouth came down and kissed the tip of her nose and then her cheeks, one at a time, and then her mouth, kissed her mouth with aching supplication and Kenzie thought that’s enough, I’m done and I don’t want to talk about it anymore tonight, I just want you to kiss me, kiss me everywhere, kiss me forever, and Kenzie whispered “Duncan,” into his mouth and she turned away from him to the lamp beside the bed and switched it off and they were bathed in darkness, the low light from the living room spilling through the doorway for a moment; “Shut the door, baby,” she whispered, and Duncan obeyed, turning and pressing it closed, and now they were in darkness entire, but for the low glow of the city somewhere far away through the window. “Your eyes look like gold,” he said to her, and he threw his blazer onto the floor (that’s right baby, abandon everything except for us) and moaned softly into her as her hands came up to unbutton his shirt, pulled his belt out with aching ease, unbuttoned his pants and pushed them away. “And yours look like blue fire,” she replied, up into his lips, pulling him down to her as she fell back onto the bed. He hovered above her and she could just see the outline of his hair over his eyes, the shape of his jaw, the shadow of his stubble, the soft shape of his lips, open and his stare falling down over her, and Kenzie loved the darkness because in that moment it felt like it was holding them, shielding them truly from the eyes of the world, creating a secret place where they could hide and all other thought could fade and only the two of them existed, in this place. His lips came down to her nipple and sucked with urgency, fingers coming around to push her breast into his mouth, and she shivered as his hair fell against her collarbone, a whisper of his love, and her hands went down his back, nails digging in and leaving red trails that were lost in the shadows, her legs coming around him, crossing at his back, pressing her sex up into his groin where she could feel the hardness of his cock through the two thin layers of fabric that covered them there. Duncan continued to suck, swirling his tongue over the hardness of her nipple again and again, then moved to the other breast and worked at it carefully, his free hand drifting down to the waistband of her panties and toying with it carefully in his thumb and index finger, pressing into her hip bone, but not moving them further down, not yet.

“I think my mother liked to try to keep us apart tonight,” he whispered against her between sucking on her, the tickle of his breath against the wetness he’d left on her making Kenzie’s eyes flutter. Duncan’s musky-wood smell was falling over her in the darkness and it made her heart beat wildly up into where his lips were devouring her, and she was dizzy with the strength of her senses, the presence of him in the absence of sight. “She wanted us to not be able to touch each other, but she failed, because I’m going to touch you everywhere now, I’m going to touch you until you’re written into my skin like a tattoo that can never be erased, I’m going to kiss you a thousand times, baby, kiss you until I’ve memorized every inch of you...”

Kenzie was murmuring before she even realized it herself; a low hum of yes, baby, yes, mhmm, yes, fuck, the feeling of his mouth on her in the darkness kindling a fire low in her body that made her want to writhe, and she was pulling his face up to her to taste him, breathlessly connected, and her hand fell down his ribs to his hip bone and into his briefs where she wrapped her fist around his cock--it was achingly hard, thrilling her again, sending a shiver down her body and he arched into her, moaning into her mouth as she pushed the fabric off him, cradling his ass in her hands for a moment, dragging her nails down to his thighs as she pushed the underwear off him and he said “Oh fuck, baby, that feels fucking good--” and then he yanked her panties down with one terribly strong hand and Kenzie’s heart stopped for a moment with the force of it, gasping as his index finger pressed harshly between her legs, into her clit, his mouth hovering over hers again; if she’d been standing her legs would have buckled instantly, instead, her legs keened back, lifting her sex up towards his hand, up so her ass fell against his thighs with a low slap, and she uttered another little moaning cry into him, her fist still clutching his erection and his hardness was sending currents of energy through her core, her cunt convulsing for a moment in anticipation. Duncan seemed to feel this current under his fingers flush against her; he let out a pitiful groan into her cheek, and she felt his cock convulse under her fingers.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he whispered, his blue eyes staring down into hers in the dark, penitent, devoted, and the outline of his expression in the deep shadows one of aching adulation, and it made Kenzie feel as though he was whispering a prayer into her, a prayer of worship, a prayer to her only and always, a priest to her, and a prayer so fervent it made him most beloved in her eyes. “I’ll do anything you want to you, I’ll let you do anything to me, fucking anything. Tell me, angel.”

“I want your lips on me and I want mine on you, baby, I wanna suck your gorgeous cock while you eat me,” Kenzie whispered, and she moved from underneath him, pushing his arms gently so he lifted away from her, following her carefully, completely supplicant to her direction; Kenzie pushed him down into the pillows now, his head falling into their softness, his long form stretched out underneath her, and she straddled him for a moment, staring down at him. Her eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness and she could still see that aching devotion falling down the beautiful contour of his face; he reminded her of a Renaissance painting, a man who also seemed unlike a man in that he was so radiantly graceful and sublime, a higher form of man, an ideal of the ecstasy of human imagining. How are you mine, she thought again, dumbstruck and shivering, and his hands came up to cup at her breasts, and she pressed a finger down between his lips and he sucked at her skin, her thumb grazing down his stubble. Kenzie moved back a little, moved until she felt the hardness of his cock brush up the sensitive, wet space between her legs; Duncan moaned into her finger, closing his eyes; those eyes, low blue flame, a constant candle lit for her and her alone.

“Am I your angel, baby,” Kenzie asked, her body thrilling at the feeling of his length flush against her pussy and ass, her cunt twinging again, the spasm of the muscles there sending a thrill of demanding need through her thighs. She let her sex press into him that way for a long, aching moment, knowing it must be as intense and terrible for him as it was for her, relishing the intensity, pressed against his need.

“Fuck, Kenzie, yes, you’re my angel, you are the only one,” he said into her fingers, and her hand fell down to clutch around his adam’s apple, desirous for more, a longer prayer, a deeper worship, a worship from his mouth into the core of her being, and she squeezed a little, her nails pressing into his skin, and he gasped. Kenzie’s mind filled with heat, her senses suddenly feeling like scalding water overflowing, and she raised her little palm and brought it down against his cheek with a snap, the little slap startling her ears and his eyes flashed at her in the dark and Kenzie said “Worship me with your mouth now, baby,” and he said “Yes, baby, come here,” and she knew he was commanding her--the slap and her hand at his throat seemed to have kindled an animalistic rush in him--and her need to be filled was bleeding into a need to do what he wanted now, and she was lost in the clash of her desires as he gripped her thighs and carefully pushed her down so he could turn her at the hips (god he’s so fucking strong, his hands could rip the life out of me, drag me down into oblivion, my Hades dragging me down with his beautiful, terrible hands, down into the depths to be devoured by him entirely devoured this way devoured in his aching lips), flipping her carefully but with an ease that made her heart jump into her throat; suddenly her back was facing him, her legs slipping down to straddle on either side of his chest under his arms, his cock pressing between her breasts now, and he yanked her up, demanding, to his face, so her cunt hovered just below his lips and his cock was brushing against her jaw; he pulled her into his mouth and Kenzie cried out, whimpering helplessly as his tongue immediately pressed into her clit, terribly warm and dripping wet, and her head fell and she drooled onto the head of his cock; she felt her eyes roll back into her head as he ate at her, and Kenzie steeled herself and opened her mouth and took his hard cock (fuck he’s fucking big when I look at him this way fuck he’s huge) into her and carefully pressed down, her tongue working against his length, and she felt him shuddering under her as his tongue probed into her soaking wet cunt and back to her clit again, focused there with a precise, deft rhythm; Kenzie opened her throat, willing herself not to gag as she took his whole length into her for a moment, then worked herself back up carefully. She could feel her thighs shuddering, the feeling of his mouth shattering her desire for control; it was bleeding out into a desire to give him terrible, transcendent pleasure--in this moment, Kenzie felt gold waves of emotion falling from the top of his head down into her body; I want you, only you, only you and always, always to be pressed into you this way, only to worship you, only to feel your mouth, only to feel you, you belong to me and I am yours entirely and there is nothing without you, there is void in your absence, that is all I know for certain, I wanna fuck you until I am lost in you and I become you and you are me and together we are something else, I wanna fuck you endlessly and so hard and so deeply and so often--

Kenzie moved her mouth up and down, working her hand at the base of his cock, her tongue swirling at the sensitive hole at the smooth head of his length; her saliva dripped down from her lips, down the shaft of him, and she moved her hand up and down and the sound of the wetness sucked in her ears as she moved her head again, faster for a moment and then with aching slowness, and Duncan moaned against her, against the swollen lips of her cunt, swollen with his attentions, swollen with terrible want. “Fuck baby, you taste so fucking good, god, your mouth feels so fucking good, fuck, I can’t--oh, fuck--Kenzie, fuck, baby, gonna--” Kenzie could hear the tremble under his words, the edge, and she dipped her head down further so the head of his cock pressed into the back of her throat and she felt his tongue lave out and press harshly into her clit, press there with wanton concentration as his hot come spurted into her mouth and she swallowed, once, twice, the taste of him salty and thick, her eyes going hazy as she felt the edge of her orgasm cresting down between her hips; she pulled back and up so she was sitting on his mouth, her ass at his nose, and pressed her hands into his torso, the taste of his come coating the inside of her mouth, and she looked up at the ceiling, dark with shadow, and his hands were on her thighs pressing her down onto him and Kenzie cried out as her orgasm forced itself roughly down through the center of her and bright flames burned behind her sight, filling the blackness of the room with intense light as she lost herself in his devoted prayer, the most ecstatic of prayers, his mouth and his tongue rushing every bit of her out into him in that moment, extending her helplessly into oblivious exaltation.

“Kenzie, baby, oh, baby, Kenzie--” Duncan’s hands were pulling her softly down, murmuring her name with aching softness, and Kenzie felt like she was coming back from a far distance to his arms; back from the brink of of edge of the universe, and she was sliding off him and she was beside him now, her head falling onto the pillow, hair falling across her cheek, close to his face, his arms clutching her with fervency, as if he couldn’t stand the sudden cease of the closeness of their orgasms; she pressed into him, her leg coming over his thigh, and he kissed her and the taste of her sex filled her own mouth as he did, and her tongue came against his and Kenzie thought I could die, I love him so, I could die right now and this would be enough for me, how can I bear this, how can I bear how much I love him, it’s so much, it fucking hurts, it aches.

“Duncan, I love you. I love you so much. I wish there were other words--”

“Shhh, baby. No. I know. I have to ask you something,” and his mouth was at her forehead, his hands threading her hair, his fingers pressing to the sides of her face; Kenzie could feel the weight of his cock, going soft, pressing into her stomach, and the thin film of sweat on his skin against her, and his eyes seemed almost white in this light, ethereal in post-coitus. “Do you feel like...sometimes...you can hear what I’m thinking? I know...I know it sounds crazy--”

“Yes, baby. Yes. I heard you tonight, I think, when we were with your mother--it’s not the first time, but I...I thought I heard you think that I was so brave, brave and that my strength was like gold, and, before that...you looked at me and it felt like you pushed something into me, you pushed you love and your faith into me and it spread around us--”

Duncan was nodding into her--“Yes,” he was whispering, “yes, baby, yes, I didn’t imagine it, yes, that happened, yes, you can hear me, you heard me, you felt it too,”--and she could feel the smile on him, though she could barely see it; his body felt as though it was smiling, a coiled joy in him as he pressed more deeply into her, his hands falling down her waist to clutch her hips into him and his hips ground against her and she sighed; a sigh that was more like a cry, and tears came instantly into her eyes, tears at the intensity of her orgasm and at the intensity of what had just passed between them; the realization that they had both experienced that energy tonight, that they had both heard each other’s thoughts, somehow, madly, impossibly, and yet somehow possible, and the wildness of this revelation stopped her heart; sweat broke out instantly on her skin and she was filled with terrible longing for him again, in a sharp wave that crashed into the center of her chest.

“How--” and Duncan was kissing her again, his mind falling into her and it felt like a thousand pinpricks of light that had burst into brilliance under his skin, in the lining of his soul; how, how, how, but the how suddenly meant nothing; the only thing that mattered was the understanding, the reality, the knowing, and Kenzie wondered if she willed it enough, if she wanted it, if she could hear him now--she focused on the feeling passing between them, the connection of their mouths pressed together, the salty sweetness of his skin, the musky smell of him that fell over her in bursts, the aching strength of him pressing into her, the soft cascade of his hair as she pushed her fingers through it, in the dark; I don’t need to see him with my eyes to see him, to truly see him, the low blue glow of him, the radiance of his beauty. I think I could see him, really see him, at the very end of time. I think I could pick him out of a million other souls and know him, instantly. And then she did hear him; heard the tenderness under every beat of it, and she felt lost in him, like he was pressing his lips onto the deepest, most secret part of her: Kenzie, I think I’ve always known you, I think we knew each other in some other time and in some other place, and I think we were together then, and I think it’s destiny that we found each other again, and I think no matter what happens someday we will find each other again, because that’s our Fate; that’s what they wove for us, when time began, they wove our souls together and it cannot be changed and we cannot be long parted from each other and we will always find each other again, because they will It--and their will is the way of things. You are my One, the only One, until the end of all things. Mackenzie. I love you. I love you. I love you…

Kenzie pressed into him, pulling him gently so he was on top of her now, their mouths still crashing against each other as these thoughts, his thoughts, and she knew they truly were this time, fell into her like a waterfall, like a rainstorm, and Kenzie’s hand came down to his cock again and slid up and down as he grew hard and she lifted her hips up onto his thighs and slid down onto him, her cunt slick with release, and they gasped into each other, his hands buried in the golden cascade of her hair and clutching her hip so she was pressed flush into him and this way, us together, it’s the only thing, she pushed the thought into him and she knew he didn’t need to speak, knew he heard her, his eyes staring into hers then closing, overwhelmed, and Duncan nodded into the bridge of her nose, his hair falling against her eyelashes, yes, the only thing, the only thing, to be here with you, beloved of all, most beloved, my love. He pressed into her, then out with aching slowness, then began to ride into her with a measured, building rhythm; his hand came down from her hair and Duncan brought his fingers up to his mouth to suck them carefully, not breaking the tide of his concentration as his length pressed into her with wild urgency, and brought them, slick with his spit, into her swollen clit, still, already, aching with wetness from his mouth; his other hand came up from her hip to press into the center of her chest, between her breasts, as if to hold her heart; as if to feel its luxuriant pounding through the tips of his fingers; his thighs pressed down into her, forcing her legs wide, and he was so hard Kenzie ached; ached with the knowledge of him. Their minds came together again, for a moment, from spinning around each other; the intensity, the intimacy of the touch--of our souls, she thought to him, and into her he pressed another thought--our bodies and our souls, Kenzie, for both of mine are yours.

“You’re gonna come,” she breathed into him, her mouth pressing into his nose, pressing against his eyes, which fluttered closed against her; “and I’m gonna come at the same time, okay, baby?” She arched up into his hand, the feeling of his fingers making her want to scream, making her hips grind up, making her want him inside her always.

“Okay, Kenzie, baby, okay…” Duncan’s eyes stared into her, needy, aching--and then he let out a little whine into her that seemed involuntary--a little cry that seemed to echo out from the center of his being, and Kenzie said “Shhh, baby, I know--” “Kenzie, how, I found you, somehow I found you, fuck me, I fucking found you--” “Fuck me, baby, fuck me,” Kenzie demanded, her eyes rolling back as the sensation of his fingers rushed her up to the edge, “Fuck me like that, fuck me hard like that, give me your hard cock, baby--” and Duncan pressed into her with such force that she felt the scream building at the back of her throat--”I’m going to--come--”

At that moment Kenzie felt herself slip down over the edge of her orgasm; felt it cascade up through her, from the ends of Duncan’s fingers deep up inside her where his cock was buried in her, and at the same time her cunt clenched down onto him with ravenous need and her scream, completely overcome and tinged with a sob, rattled out of her--and then she felt Duncan press his mouth into her neck to stifle the strangled scream that came from his own throat, and he came deep inside her and they clung to each other, convulsing, trembling, and Kenzie could feel the hot wetness of his tears falling into her hair and against her skin where his face was buried against her ear and she felt the sob of his body as her own hot tears coursed down her cheeks and her arms clutched around his back and her sex spasmed again and again against his length, sending dizzying shocks up her body. Kenzie brought her hand to his cheek and her heart spasmed painfully at the wetness there; in the darkness she could see the glowing white-blue of his eyes again, now overcome by his orgasm and the emotion that had fallen out of him with it--Duncan Shepherd, her prince, so soft and pliant and vulnerable in her arms, and she gathered his sweetness in this moment against her and knew she would remember it always; Kenzie knew that she would look back on his tears in her hair on this night; knew that if she ever doubted at all that he loved her, she would look back to this night, the tender color of him as he clung to her and know that he did; know that he always would, would because it was their destiny to love each other, through every shade of time.

------

Later, after their tears had dried, Kenzie lay against him with her head in that space under his arm; her space, and Duncan’s hand threaded through her hair behind her, lazily, absently, her leg crooked over his thigh, one of her hands on his belly with his hand hovering above, his pinky crooked against her thumb; they were silent, the only sounds coming from the faraway drift of the night outside, and Kenzie couldn’t hear any of his thoughts now; couldn’t perceive their shape, knew that they were hazy with the weight of his orgasms, hazy with tiredness, hazy with the depth of the emotion they had shared, and she felt sure hers were hazy in the same way, that he couldn’t see them; she was on Duncan’s side of the bed (somehow she knew this inherently; that she would always sleep on the other side, but tonight they hadn’t moved from the way they’d fallen post-coitus) and had switched on the lamp there, on the lowest setting; the bronze light fell over them as they stared up at the ceiling, and seeing him now, after the sensation of him bathed in darkness, struck her with wonder; to see you that way, and then this way.

“I think we can only hear thoughts when...when whatever is happening is really intense,” she murmured into his cheek, and Duncan sighed into her, closing his eyes; “I think you’re right,” he said, hand coming from her hair to hold her at the incline of her arm above the crook of her elbow, press her naked torso into his hip. “Kenzie, I can’t believe it...it’s so incredible…I never believed in anything like this before now. I never believed in things I couldn’t perceive with my own eyes. Now...I do believe. I believe in all of it, now. To be near you is to believe.”

“You think of me so tenderly,” Kenzie whispered, looking up at him. “It takes my breath away.”

Duncan’s eyes were still closed, as if he was afraid to look at her; “I love you so much, Kenzie. I don’t have words for it. It...scares me. But it’s the most amazing...the most moving thing I’ve ever felt...” Kenzie’s eyes fell over his wildly beautiful face; like this, he was like an aspect of the Pieta, or some aching divinity; to be loved by him shatters my soul into a thousand pieces, each one raw with sensitivity, each one alive with so much feeling I can barely stand it.

“I love you too, Duncan. Please tell me you felt it from me.”

He nodded; his eyes opened and they were shining with tears again. “I did. I do. And I heard those thoughts towards my mother from you, baby--I heard you--that we’ll help people and create beautiful things--and we will, I promise we will, I love you so.”

Kenzie sat up and pressed a kiss into him, and smiled; “Oh, Duncan.”

“With you beside me, Mackenzie, I promise we will make everything I have--everything we have--into something beautiful. Baby, I swear.” He brought her hand up to his mouth, kissing along her fingers, making low heat coil in her belly.

“Duncan, we can make so many people happy. As happy as this. As happy as we are,” she said, and then Kenzie suddenly pressed the tips of her fingers into Duncan’s torso, unable to keep her smile at bay, dancing them along his skin, all of her joy spilling out of her; a peal of laughter burst out of him and Duncan jerked to the side to get away from her tickles, and then he pulled her down onto him and rained kisses between her breasts and Kenzie thought more joy is coming and our love will make us brave and so bright and our love will bring light to others and she knew, in the deepest part of her soul, that it was true.

------

When Kenzie woke the sun was shining down onto the bed (it’s summer, she thought, we should go to the beach soon, I’d love that, kissing him in the sand with the blue ocean stretched out before us) and Duncan was (wonderfully, blessedly) still sleeping quietly beside her. They’d slept naked (like that first night, Kenzie’s thoughts drifted, sleepily, eyes roving over his saintly face, the delicate incline of his eyelashes, the pout of his lips, whatever dream she’d had instantly forgotten, that first night where my heart was shattered by you and you kissed my ankles and said god, you taste good and I fucked you wearing that necklace that had taken me so long to save the money for and when you woke you hovered over me again, desirous, and I knew it hadn’t been a dream, and I knew I’d be content to always be in your bed, a bed we’ve now made ours from our passion), and Kenzie could feel the delicate press of his fingers against her hip, their bodies turned towards each other, Duncan’s curls falling over the pillow. She pressed her toes into the incline of the top of his ankle, down his foot and up again, where she could feel the hairs on his smooth, long leg, and pressed toward him, hungry for his heat. Kenzie lifted her face up into Duncan’s neck, sending little kisses down from the incline of his jaw to his adam’s apple and the elegant fall of his collarbones; Duncan let out a little pliant sigh, his big hand coming up from her hip to clutch her against him, immediately needy; she marveled again at the way it seemed to cover so much of her body, wherever it touched her; she felt enveloped under his hands, cradled in his colossal embrace. Kenzie felt the hardness between his legs press between hers (fuck, he always has an erection in the morning, ugh, fuck me baby) and the musky smell of him fell through her (he smells like sex, like the woods after warm rain) and he said “Kenzie,” and she thought like a prayer, he says my name so lovingly, “what time is it, baby.”

“Only after 8.” The smell of him was making her dizzy, making her cunt pulse down towards where she felt his cock pressing to the inside of her thigh; Duncan’s eyes opened to stare at her, and Kenzie breathed out a little, wondering if she’d ever not feel frozen with the intensity of his gaze. “We can sleep for hours still if we want to, baby...”

Duncan kissed her gently, just once, sleep still clinging to his eyes; Kenzie brought her hand up to brush the bits of skin that had gathered at the corners of them away with one careful finger, admiring the hairs along his jaw and the straight fall of his nose, the dusting of tiny beauty marks along his left cheek. His eyes were open still, half-closed with the remnants of the sleep he’d just left; and he said “You were an angel in the dream I was having,” and his eyes fluttered, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, one of his hands coming up between her shoulder blades, one falling down to clutch, fingers spreading, over her ass cheek.

“Oh really. An angel, huh?” She pressed more kisses into his chest; into the bones of his shoulders, still marveling at his smell. Duncan was nodding into her, greedily; pressing her mouth up into his, his fingers tightening around her skin, speaking between their lips; “Yes. You had wings and a halo that looked like it was made of stars...of starlight. I was...I don’t know who I was. I was dark. I was something dark. And you put your arms around me and I was full of light and relief. Your touch was...healing. It healed me. You were divine, baby. You are divine.”

“You aren’t dark, Duncan. You aren’t.”

“Kenzie...I’ve done...there are things I’ve done that--”

“Shhhh. They don’t matter now. We’re together. You aren’t dark. You aren’t.”

His tongue was in her mouth and she was shifting up onto him in the soft morning light, on the incline of his hips against the trail of hair on his abdomen that led to his groin, pushing herself up from the center of his chest so the lips of her vulva were pressing down into the upper side of his morning wood, and he moaned into her; “I’m never gonna stop wanting to fuck you, Kenzie,” and she said “Good, baby, because you’re gonna fuck me again right now,” and she lifted her hips and pushed herself down onto his thick erection so she was straddling his thighs and Kenzie whined as he filled her, “god, baby, you’re so fucking hard,” and he groaned a little, as if trying to steel himself against the intensity of the sensation, and Kenzie put two fingers in her mouth and rolled them along her tongue; saliva dripped from them as she brought them out and pressed them against her clit and worked at herself, hard and immediate, as she rolled her hips on him, his shaft totally buried inside her so she could feel the knobbed surface of his balls against the bottom of her ass, feel him throb deep inside her, filling her so much she wondered if he’d tear her apart; it made her shudder and throw her head back, and she watched his eyes, hazy with sleep a moment ago, go wide and roll back as she rode his aching cock.

“We all have darkness in us--” Kenzie breathed down at him as she moved her hips and rubbed at her clit, building a tantric cadence with her body, “--but you have so much good and so much loveliness in you, baby, and it was there before we met, I know it--”; Duncan’s hands came up, one pressing to her breast and kneading at her nipple, hard now in her arousal, the other at the small of her back, his nails digging into her skin there, as if to chain her against him; “Don’t stop, baby, god you feel like fucking heaven, fuck me,” and his voice begged, she could hear the edge in it, the need; she smiled, and he gazed up at her, his expression rapturous; that beautiful face, that gorgeous face, like a God, like Hades to his beloved Persephone, like Dionysus beholding Ariadne, like Apollo, most fair, smitten with Daphne, or Eros folding Psyche into his arms: just for me, when he looks at me that way. It’s only for me, and I know it. I can feel it. That gaze is for me and me alone, for I am most beloved among all to him.

“Kenzie, angel,” he breathed, and she watched his eyes flutter with the wave of his release rising, the intensity of the softness and wetness and tightness between her legs; god I love to see him in the light, she thought, I want to stare at him all fucking day, I want to drink him like wine. Her sex ached; ached with their fucking from the night before, ached with need for him now, ached so wonderfully that she thought she might faint from it, the intensity of the want there coiling like a spring that would cut and maim when it broke forth; “let me, baby, please, let me touch you,” he whispered, and she lifted her fingers from her clit to let the large, warm pad of his index finger flush itself against the bud of nerves between her legs, her hand falling down over his palm to grip at his wrist, holding him there--”There, that’s better, baby,” he murmured, “God, I can’t wait to get that fucking mirror,” and she nodded and said “You wanna watch yourself fuck me, huh, baby,” and he said “Fuck yes, I wanna watch myself fuck you, Kenzie, angel baby, fucking goddess,” and she laughed a little, and her laugh seemed to stir his desire further and she felt his length spasm inside her and his other hand came up from her breast and around her neck and she gasped a little “Fucking yes, baby,” and he squeezed, the pressure of his fingers constricting the air from her lungs and Kenzie’s heart pounded harshly in the center of her, and her sex twinged under his fingers and then he was pressing his hips up into her and moaning her name as he came, “Kenzie, angel, Kenzie, baby--” and she whimpered as he hand went tighter for a moment, tight enough to make her gasp longer, harder, fuck yes, baby, I love your hand there, forcing me down onto you this way, she knew he heard, and then she came under his hands, came and knew that as she did, he saw the halo around her head as she hovered over him in the sunlight; the halo he’d seen in his dream.

------

“Baby, I was thinking--” Duncan said as she sat at the black obsidian island in the kitchen, in the Marie Laveau tee shirt, staring down at her phone in one hand (Instagram; the comments on the photo of them together were absolutely wild and it had wracked up over 35,000 likes; Claire had already sent her several links to websites gushing about the photo, including one from BPF.com: DUNCAN SHEPHERD AND GIRLFRIEND MACKENZIE STONE POST FIRST SELFIE TOGETHER ON INSTAGRAM; LEGIONS OF FANS COIN NICKNAME “DUCKENZIE”), hair over her shoulder, a spoon poised in her other hand over the bowl of granola with blueberries and blackberries he’d given her, to her delight--”We own a cabin around Deep Creek Lake...it’s about a three hour drive from the city, and it’s...well, it’s a very large cabin, very secluded. Sometimes my Uncle BIll and my mother still use it for private parties, mostly. We used to go there more often when I was young, but it’s been about two years since the last time I stayed there. I was thinking...we could go there and stay for a few days. After the Gala. We could get away from the paps and my mother and everything...all of this. It’s so beautiful there and there are deer sometimes and I think--”

“Yes, baby, fucking yes,” Kenzie cut him off. “Dunny, I would fucking love that.” She couldn’t stop the grin that broke over her face as he turned to her, his blue eyes smiling down at her incredulously, the espresso he’d just made her in his hand. “Dunny, huh? That’s a new one.” He brought it over to her (he was in black sweats again, his torso bare) and she leaned up as his face came down to her; his kiss tasted like bitter coffee and sweet berries and him, all of him, and she sighed into him, gently pulling the copper espresso cup from his hand, her fingers trailing over his languidly.

“That’s what I wanna call you, baby,” She grinned again. “Dunnybunny.” She laughed. Duncan snorted, his face breaking out into a smirk that became a snorting laugh of his own. “I can’t wait to see my mother’s face when you call me that in her presence.”

“Oh, I definitely will, in that case. Not much will make your mother like me less than she already does, so I have nothing to lose.”

“She does like you, though. She can’t help it. The way she kept mentioning that you look like Madeline; that was her way of showing you affection. How could anyone not like you, baby?” His fingers came across the island as he leaned down onto it, trailing down her arm, her wrist, her hand; Kenzie’s phone lay just beyond her fingertips; Duncan glanced at it, noticing the Instagram photo open on it, eyes falling over the hundreds of thousands of likes. “Everyone loves you. And they should.”

“Shut the fuck up,” she smiled up at him, toying with the ends of his fingers, feeling her cheeks blush. Duncan smiled again as he turned away to make another espresso, this one for himself. “Yes, Miss Stone, whatever you say, Miss Stone.”

“Ugh, no, don’t,” and she stood and ran over to him and threw her arms around his back, burying her face in his skin, hair falling in her eyes. “Don’t call me that. Call me baby. Call me Kenzie. Call me angel.”

“Fuck,” and he turned around so she was looking up into his eyes and he said “Kenzie, I will call you angel a thousand times a day if you want me to, anything you want belongs to you now, just say it, just tell me what it is and it’s yours, okay? I mean it. Anything, baby. When’s your birthday, anyway?”

“July 17th. Anchaly told me you’re a Cancer too, so yours must be close to mine.” Kenzie’s arms still gripped Duncan’s hips, and his hand had come around to that soft spot under her ear, down into her hair, the tangles of sleep brushed out. “July 6th,” he answered, pressing his lips into her forehead as she stood there barefoot, feeling tiny in his embrace again, wildly vulnerable and soft and small. “My mother always insists on having a huge party...invites a hundred people, all politicians and celebrities, god, I always hate it, but this year--this year I’ll love it because you’ll be there.” “Mmhmm, of course I will, baby...but I have no idea what to do for a present--what do I get for the man who has everything?” She grinned up at him.

“I do have everything. Now, I truly do, baby. Now the party will always be for you, too. Oh, Kenzie, I love that. I love that our birthdays are close.” He pushed his fingers gently along her cheek, his arm around her shoulder; the tenderness in his voice made her heart shake. “Kenzie, I love you so much, being with you is like--like I’m fucking high as a kite all the time, wonderfully drunk--” he pressed his lips down onto her cheek, along to her ear, and Kenzie shivered, her body arching up into him, unable to stop herself. “That cabin sounds so wonderful, baby,” Kenzie said, trying to break the spell that had begun to weave between them again--she’d have to get ready to go to the Shepherd mansion soon, it wouldn’t do to arrive disheveled in front of Annette Shepherd from fucking her son on the table. But I do want him to fuck me on the table, Kenzie realized. We haven’t fucked on the table--not this one or that fucking beautiful cherrywood table in the other room--I want him to lay me down on it and fuck my fucking brains out standing. “To get away from everything like that sounds so perfect, everything has just been so insane…”

Duncan pulled away from her, nodding. “That’s why I thought of it. I don’t want you to get...overwhelmed. The paps are enough to drive anyone insane, but they hound this family like wolves at raw meat, ever since my grandfather became one of the richest men in America back in the 70’s. And the way they’re acting around you scares me. I want you to be safe and happy more than anything, baby. And it’ll be just the two of us. Just us.” His hand fell against her lips, probing gently. Kenzie opened her mouth a little to let his finger in, tongue swirling over it, her eyes lifted to his and she could see the heated desire coiled there again, could see the shape of the thoughts drifting inside him; he’s thinking about getting a hook for the ceiling in our bedroom, a hook to hang velvet rope, rope to tie me up and fuck me standing while we watch each other in a gilded mirror and I fall down onto his face as he eats me on his knees and he’s thinking about using that plug on me and then fucking my ass himself, fucking me hard in the ass with his big cock and coming inside me there, and her senses tingled and vibrated with the onslaught of these thoughts. Fuck, baby. Fuck, yes. She sucked at his finger as his thoughts crashed against her, and his eyes went bright with his arousal--blue like the summer sky drifting outside these windows, all my little plants hanging along it now, resting on the spotless sill--Kenzie was sure she had never wanted a man so much in her life as much as she wanted Duncan; she wanted every part of him, every secret, every shadow, every crevice and contour of him memorized, every inch explored, and the desire for him seemed to grow rather than dissipate every time they fucked, every time they came close together as if their minds were linked (but they are, we can each other’s fucking thoughts sometimes), every time he made her come with his mouth and his hands and his hard cock. The thought of exploring each other for days, sheltered by woods and a lake and the quiet of nature, with no one to tell them where to be and no one to take photos of them and no one to stare at them or scold them or probe them for details made her ache; god, that couldn’t come soon enough. But there was so much still to get through, first. Ugh.

“I should get ready to go to your mother’s house, baby,” Kenzie whispered, with regret. Duncan was leaning down to her again, his nose brushing against hers, his mouth hovering just above hers, his breath shallow, his thumb wet with her spit, now trailing along her bottom lip. “But I heard that. And the answer is yes.”

“Fuck, Kenzie.” He pushed his mouth onto hers and she returned his aching kiss for a moment, then pulled back and spoke into him, hearing his breath go ragged.

“While I’m with your mother, you should do some shopping. For us.”

“Uh huh, Kenzie. Yes, baby.”

She slid out of his grasp; Duncan groaned in frustration, and Kenzie could see the flush of his skin, looking at him over her shoulder as she stepped towards the bedroom. Her hip ran into the edge of the island, not looking where she was going; she blushed, wincing, and Duncan bit his lip, looking down at the floor and then back up at her, shyly. Kenzie saw the vulnerability in his gaze at her having heard those thoughts, raw and carnal and full of hedonistic want of her; but they had sent a thrill through her, one that made her think of the colossal painting that stretched across his study again; The Youth of Bacchus, the pleasures of the flesh, my body and your body, baby, together, where they belong.

“Wanna come watch me get dressed, baby?”

“Ugh, yes,” Duncan groaned, and came after her as she ran towards the bedroom, past the dark red roses on the coffee table, laughing.

------

Most of Kenzie’s clothes were still on the rolling clothing rack she’d used in her old apartment; the clothes that had been in her sun-and-moon dresser still stacked neatly in large boxes. Duncan had, somewhat shyly, asked if he could put all her things away for her--while she was busy with Annette--in the drawers on the right side of the walk-in closet; “I’m going to move the things I have in there out; it’s your side now.” “Are you kidding, baby, it’s my dream for someone else to do my laundry for me. You can put my clothes away every damn day. You can be my personal stylist,” and she clutched him around the waist for a moment, pressing against him, and he smiled down at her. “You’ll have one of those for real very soon, baby,” he replied. “Annette insists, for all public events. Also--now that I’m thinking of it--I have a service deliver groceries here several times a week. If you write down everything you think we need and give it to Anchaly in the morning, it’s here at night. It’s safer--and especially after that incident yesterday, baby, I think you shouldn’t go out alone for things like that. Harris should be with you if you need to go shopping for any reason. You should use the card I gave you to order anything you need online as much as you want to; Anchaly signs for packages, too.”

Kenzie frowned a little, leaning away from him, going over to her hanging rack and pulling out a black collared sweater with short sleeves, throwing it on its hanger on the bed. She leaned over one of the boxes that littered the corner, finding the high-waisted mini skirt she was looking for; it was black too, with gold buttons down the front. She pulled the Marie Laveau shirt off, standing there in just her underwear for a moment; as she pulled the skirt up, wiggling it over her hips, she avoided Duncan’s gaze from where he stood standing at the door of the walk-in closet, leaning against it, eyes focused on her; she couldn’t hear him right now, but knew anyway that he was looking at her with both affectionate concern and desire.

“Kenzie. I understand your frustration, baby. I do.”

Kenzie breathed out, leaning over another box, finding a strapless tan-colored bra, snapping it over her arms and pulling the cups over her little breasts (she’d remembered reading somewhere that for fittings a strapless bra should be worn), and then she turned to him, in just her bra and skirt, the frown still creasing over her face. I can’t help it, she thought. This sucks. “It just...makes me fucking sad, baby,” she said, tucking a golden-tawny wave behind her ear, reaching for the shirt she’d tossed on the bed. Duncan came over to where she stood; he slid onto the bedspread, grasping her hand before she could pull it away, crossing his legs, pulling her gently down to him. “Like I’ve given up a part of me...one that could go to the grocery store and just...get groceries. Fuck.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry it’s like this.”

She knelt on the bedspread, mussed from their passion and their sleep, looking at him; the bareness of his shoulders and the fall of his hair and his expression of remorse, blue eyes burning, oh, those eyes; then she pressed her arms around his neck, and Duncan put his face into her hair and pulled her into his lap, breathing her in.

“I know it’s not your fault, baby,” she murmured. “I just...I can’t believe...in just a week...so much can change. Everything. You know?”

“Baby, I know. Everything is different now. It feels strange to me too--everything I thought I wanted for the company...it was really something my uncle wants-- something my mother wants. I want something else. I want what you said, what you thought across that table when you looked at my mother--to bring other people happiness like this.”

Kenzie nodded into his neck, her body filling with sweet affection for him, a golden cascade of love--to choose your light over your darkness takes courage, my dearest love, and I am so proud of you, so proud to know you and love you in this moment, was the thought she pushed into him, and his arms tightened around her and she felt the emotion in the way he moved his head against her, felt the tremor in him, overcome with her admonition. You aren’t dark. You’ve chosen to be something else. That’s what matters.

Kenzie heard her phone trumpet from the kitchen island where she’d left it; she glanced over at the silver alarm clock on Duncan’s side of the bed and noticed it was 11:30 exactly. “Baby, I think I have to go soon,” she whispered into him and Duncan sighed. “I wish we could just stay home together, today,” he murmured into her.

“Me too, baby. But tomorrow we can. Tomorrow we have the whole day to ourselves. Maybe I can finally put all my things away.” She kissed him and Duncan closed his eyes; “Or we can just fuck all day, baby,” he said into her mouth, and Kenzie grinned into him, shivering. “I’m curious how many times I can make you come in a row--” And she wiggled out of his arms teasingly as he said this, loving the hungry look in his eyes. “Get that mirror and that hook,” she said, staring at him for a long moment, “and we can test that theory,” then, Kenzie went back over to the boxes in the corner, pulling out a pair of black socks, slipping them on her feet. Duncan watched the incline of her leg, letting out another soft little moan, almost involuntary; then he climbed off the bed and went to the walk-in closet, pushing his sweatpants down as he did, kicking them off, still looking over his shoulder into her eyes as his cock came free of its constraints, not quite erect, but not soft either; in that between state of arousal and anticipation; he slowly moved his hand down to it, gripping its shaft for a moment, leaning against the doorway, eyes falling up and down her body in the little sweater and mini skirt, his mouth open just a little, and Kenzie bit her lip. “Bad boy,” she whispered. “I’m gonna punish you later.” He grinned at her and went into the closet. Kenzie passed by to get her phone from the kitchen and couldn’t help but glance to him undressed, his back turned to her now; his wide shoulders extending down to his round ass and thick thighs, the fine hairs on his legs visible in the warm light of the closet. Beloved. Like the statue of David. I really do wish we could stay in bed all day, worshiping each other. If we ever get tired of fucking, it won’t be anytime soon.

Kenzie reached for her phone as she reached the island, looking down at the text.

Samuel: Miss Mackenzie, ready when you are.

Harris had today off; Kenzie supposed it wasn’t necessary to have him at the Shepherd mansion (there was no chance of paps being there; there was heavy security around the clock), though, she thought, it would have been nice to have his large presence beside her, in case Annette tries to poison me, only half-facetiously, biting her lip. On my way down in 5, she replied. Thanks Samuel. Kenzie went back to the bedroom, stopping in the doorway of the walk-in closet; Duncan was mostly dressed now, in tailored black slacks and a short-sleeved button down; “I don’t think I’ve seen you in short sleeves yet, baby,” she said softly, coming up to him as he did the top button, facing her; glancing up at her. “You look nice. You always look nice. But I like you in short sleeves. You look more...relaxed, or something.”

“I’m pretty sure naked is the most relaxed state you’ve seen me in, Kenzie,” he said, eyes in hers, his radiantly beautiful smile making her shy again. “Also, the short sleeves are for practical reasons--the high today is 81.” Kenzie turned to where several pairs of her shoes were lined against the floor; she hadn’t had time to organize these yet either, but she picked out her long black pointed boots, leaning against the drawers as she pulled them on under Duncan’s watchful eye; he was switching between buckling on his black Movado and staring at her legs again as they vanished under the black velvety fabric of the boots; they always made her feel pretty when she wore them, and she felt like she could use all the help she could get if Annette was going to be breathing down her neck for a few hours. “Samuel’s waiting for me downstairs, baby,” she said, looking up at him, straightening, clutching her phone in one hand, reaching for him with the other; he grasped her arm, stepping forward, and leaned down into her, and his heady, musk-wood smell fell over her again, dizzying and deep. “I’ll text you when I’m done with your mom, okay?”

“Okay, baby. Thank you for doing this. But remember what I said, if you don’t like what she wants you to wear, you don’t have to wear it. Erik is reasonable, he’ll understand.”

Kenzie reached over to where some of her jewelry was lined on the accessory shelf built into the side (her side) of the closet; she slipped the long necklace with tiny gold star charms on it around her neck; it dangled to her stomach, and she flipped her hair back over her shoulders, placing her hands on her hips. “How do I look, baby.”

“Like my Kenzie. Like a fucking angel.”

“Can you see my halo and wings still?”

“Always.”

She blushed; ugh, this fucking Prince. Fuck me, pressing her face up to kiss him again, then dancing away as he tried to grab her closer--”You are too fucking good at that,” he said after her, his eyes like deep ocean, and she giggled as she snatched the little convertible bag from where she’d left it by the wall in the living room, dipping down to smell the roses on the table, their evocative sweetness floating up at her; she glanced towards where she knew his bust of Nike was on the left side of the Bouguereau prints, and spoke a silent prayer for a day that wasn’t rife with the stresses of yesterday; spoke a silent prayer that in Annette Shepherd’s presence, she would be fearless and calm. Duncan followed her out, barefoot; he watched her go to the door and pull it open, and she said, “Wish me luck, baby.”

“You don’t need luck, Kenzie. You are beloved of the gods.”

She stared at him, puzzled; she could feel the small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “That’s a funny thing to say, Duncan.” He came up to her, hands falling through her hair with adamant affection, before she could slip away from him again. “It’s true. I said it because it’s true. I feel it. Destiny. Our destiny. This wasn’t luck. It was destiny. It is our destiny.”

The doubt slipped from her mind; the confusion melted. “It really is, isn’t it.”

“Yes. It really is.” He kissed her fiercely again; his mouth bruising into hers; touching in thin tendrils down to her stomach. She pressed into him for a moment, suddenly possessed by her sadness at leaving him; then pulled away softly and stepped into the hall.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, baby.”

“Mhm, Kenzie. I love you.”

“And I, your Persephone, love you.”

“Oh, baby--”

Kenzie ran away from him down the hall to the elevator, which magically, somehow, opened for her before she even pressed the button. She turned as the doors slid shut, and he was leaning against the frame of the penthouse entrance, arm clutching the lintel, eyes on her, and she knew he was thinking of flowers in her hair again, petals floating down and leaving a secret trail behind her as she descended back to earth.

-----

Samuel had his foot on the gas of the BMW as soon as Kenzie slid into the backseat; she’d taken more time than she thought upstairs (your son was distracting me, Annette) and it was fifteen till the hour. Today he was listening to Fleetwood Mac; Kenzie clapped her hands together, delighted; listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise--”Samuel, can you turn it up?” She saw Samuel’s very white grin at her in the rearview, and watched his hand reach out to the knob on the Harman Kardon sound system; Stevie and Lindsey’s voices crashed into her on either side as if they were in the backseat with her.

“And if you don’t love me now, you will never love me again, I can still hear you sayin’, you would never break the chain--” Samuel had the windows down and the wind whipped her hair across her cheek and neck, and Kenzie thought of Duncan’s hands and his blue gaze and his mouth and his hair on his forehead and the stubble on his cheeks and his height towering over her but his looks of longing into her eyes and toyed with the little stars on her necklace, feeling them carefully, singing along softly to herself. We can hear each other’s thoughts sometimes. A week ago I would have thought current me had lost her fucking mind. But I know it’s real. How can it be real? I don’t fucking know. But it is.

“Miss Mackenzie, your voice is so beautiful,” Samuel said, glancing up at her, the smile still at his mouth. “You should have been a singer, like Ms. Nicks.”

“Thank you, Samuel. To be compared to Stevie is the highest of compliments.”

“Just so.”

Chain, keep up together...Chain, keep us together…

As Samuel pulled up to the gate of the Shepherd mansion, Kenzie’s stomach did a backflip and she floated away from the strains of Christine’s high, cheerful voice: you, you make loving fun, it’s all I wanna do--Holy fuck, Kenzie thought. This is huge even for a mansion. She could see the tall Colonial-style windows over the gate, the Roman pillars extending in the doorway, a balcony above. I need to remember Duncan’s family is one of the richest in the country. Fuck. Am I ever gonna get used to this? Samuel spoke into the intercom (“Mackenzie Stone here to see Annette Shepherd,”) and the gate buzzed open. Kenzie glanced down at her phone; it was five till. She silently thanked Samuel’s magical powers of speed again. Samuel pulled up around the curving driveway to the entrance; vast double doors seemed to stare down at her with hostile judgement. Kenz, you got this. Remember the way Duncan pushed his love into you last night. The way you gathered it and moved it and made it more. You can gather it that way again, just remember that feeling. Be brave like Momby.

Kenzie breathed out, thanked Samuel (and silently, Stevie) and stepped out of the car, boots clicking on the smooth, tasteful cobble of the driveway, looking up at the house, bag slung over her shoulder, phone clutched in her palm. It was sunny and beautiful today; it was truly beginning to feel like summer. Kenzie breathed in deeply and let it out again; don’t let her get to you, no matter what she says, Kenzie. Momby wouldn’t. Duncan wouldn’t. Don’t do it.

She waved a little at Samuel before she shut the door; “I’ll text you when I’m done, is that okay, Samuel?” “Of course, Miss Mackenzie. See you later.” She turned away as it clicked shut, steeling herself again for a moment, then going up the three wide, smooth white steps to the double doors, both with opulent knobs made of embossed gold; she hesitated, unsure of the etiquette; do I knock? Kenzie reached out and turned one of the knobs, apprehensively, peeking her head slowly into the interior of the house. Inside, it was as opulent a place as she had ever seen; if Duncan’s penthouse was spotless, you could eat a steak off the floor of the foyer of this house; Kenzie felt immediately far too ordinary to be here; too flawed, too insecure, and far too human. She toyed with the idea of running out, waving Samuel down and speeding off. But that, of course, was impossible.

A woman came towards her, beckoning sternly. She was very tall (probably taller than Duncan, Kenzie thought, reminded of Harris) and had hair so blonde it was almost white; it was pulled back into a very tight bun that looked painful to Kenzie, and her face was done up with carefully-applied, subdued makeup, her thin, nude-lipsticked lips pressed together tightly. She wore a very tight, very neat pantsuit in dark gray with low black kitten heels, and she looked very strong, with wide shoulders and hips. “Mackenzie Stone, come here.” Her voice had a slight accent, one that Kenzie couldn’t place. Danish? Swedish? “I am Ingrid. They are in the South Wing.” Kenzie jumped inside, pulling the big door shut behind her; the foyer was eerily quiet but for a huge grandfather clock swinging in one corner. Ingrid beckoning with a short motion again; “Come, now, thank you.”

Kenzie stepped quickly behind the woman, who moved very fast and almost noiselessly; I bet this woman could kill someone easily without ever getting caught, Kenzie thought with a chill. I guess Annette needs people like that around her. Ingrid led her around the right side of the curving double staircase, down a hallway hidden behind it, towards the far end of the mansion; if Duncan has one Bouguereau original, I can’t even contemplate how many of these are authentic, Kenzie thought, gazing around at the paintings that adorned the walls (they seemed to mostly be a mixture of Impressionist and Modern art--but there’s nothing here as beautiful as The Youth of Bacchus, she thought, it’s the most beautiful painting I have ever seen, and my boyfriend OWNS it), the sconces and shelves that held Ming vases and sculptures and china and embossed books. Ingrid turned a corner sharply, then opened a long white door (another embossed gold knob) to a round, wide parlor room, modified to look like a dressing room, with a round dais in the center and several mannequins along one wall, a few very beautiful Regent-style white-and-gold armchairs littered here and there; Kenzie saw Annette stretched languidly in one of them, dressed in a flawless cream-colored wrap dress with a black sash tied at her waist, her perfectly styled hair falling down her shoulder, her expression hidden by the angle, and a man with a very bright floral scarf, a shiny bald head and very long false eyelashes standing with a hip cocked facing the doorway, gesturing at her flamboyantly and telling a story, animatedly.

“--I said honey-bun, you don’t get to tell me what the fuck I’m going to do, I tell you what the fuck I’m going to do, then you give me the time I need to fucking do it.” The man cocked his head, batting his lashes. Annette let out a little barking laugh. “Needless to say, I--” The man broke off, noticing Ingrid at the door, and Kenzie hovering behind her.

Annette glanced back. “Oh. Mackenzie. You’re actually on time.”

Uhhhhh. Kenzie’s hands came up to the star necklace, noticing her hand was trembling. What would have happened if I wasn’t?

“Thank you, Ingrid, you can shut the door.”

Ingrid gave Annette a curt nod, and gave Kenzie a long glance as she left, her eyes going from Kenzie’s feet up her body to her hair around her shoulders and down again, a judging glint in her cold eyes. Yep, you got it, I’m fucking Duncan, you’re right, Kenzie thought. Stare away, make sure I have the right genetics and the birthing hips and my boobs are the right size. I wonder what Annette will say when she hears I don’t want to have kids, ha! The door shut behind the woman with a loud, clean click, and the man in the eyelashes came toward Kenzie, pressing his hands theatrically to his cheeks.

“My, my, my, what a little cupcake you are.” He reached for her hands and Kenzie extended her palms into his, her cheeks burning with apprehension. “A little rose petal, a babydoll blooming bud, a teensy slice of delectable red velvet. I’ll bet he’s been nibbling at you night and day.”

“Erik, that’s enough,” Annette said, and Kenzie glanced over to her to see an expression of sharp annoyance in her eyes; whatever mirth may have been on Annette’s face a moment ago was gone, replaced with a calculating neutrality.

“Lord, Annette, as if you can’t see why he’s absolutely head-over-heels.” Erik rolled his eyes, letting Kenzie go, giving her a little wink that Annette couldn’t see from where she sat. Kenzie pressed her lips together tightly, trying not to smile. I like him. “She’s like a tiny little princess in a fairy tale. Snow White. Rose Red. Princess Peach. I’m Erik, sweet thing. And you’re Mackenzie. And this is Annette--oh, you knew that, of course.” Erik turned to Annette, giving her a long look and a coy smile.

“Mackenzie, come here, we have a lot of work to do and I have a meeting at 3,” Annette said to her curtly, standing up and beckoning to the dais. “Erik needs to take your measurements, and then we need to discuss a color palette.”

“I’m thinking mod,” Erik gestured vaguely towards Kenzie’s hips, flicking his wrist. “Like Edie Sedgwick at a Renaissance fair.” Annette made an exasperated noise from the back of her throat as Kenzie came up beside her, heart pounding, and grasped Kenzie’s arm suddenly with a tight, pinching grip, pushing her onto the dais. “Measurements, please, Erik. Mackenzie, hold still.”

Erik spent the next ten minutes or so pressing a measuring tape along Kenzie’s body as she moved as he told her to; Kenzie looked down from Annette’s appraising gaze, which seemed as cold and heavy as ice; she tried to remember the warmth that had spread around the table over dinner last night, but it slipped away from her, just beyond her grasp; without Duncan there, Kenzie felt lost inside her doubt, caught in the approximate, austere eyes of his mother. I doubt those comments from Erik helped warm her heart to me today, Kenzie thought, exasperated. Her stomach felt sour and she contemplated asking for a glass of water, but Annette’s frown deterred her. She remembered Annette didn’t know she’d moved into Duncan’s penthouse yet; oh fuck, she’s really gonna love that one. Annette’s quietness unnerved her--who knew what Duncan’s mother was thinking behind her dark-well eyes. Erik fussed over her, as if to fill the silence between them: “Look at your tiny little hourglass! Those hips, my dear, absolutely to die for. A pity you’re not a little taller, then again, Madeline was never known for her height, was she. How is she these days, by the way?”

“Very well, thanks for asking.” Kenzie’s eyes slid to Annette, who raised her eyebrows, then back to Erik, who was pressing the measuring tape along her bust with careful precision; he had clearly done this a thousand times before her, and his interest in her breasts was completely non-existent beyond the practicality of his duties. “She’s retired now. We had a wonderful time with her the other night.” She looked at Annette again for a moment, seeing the angry flash in the other woman’s eyes; kicking the hornet’s nest, Kenz, she scolded herself, but it was too late; heat was rising behind her temples. I am good enough for your son, Annette. You may never think so, but that doesn’t fucking matter. You’re going to accept me eventually because your son loves me and that’s not going to change. This is our destiny. He said so himself to me. He knows it too. I may not be the trust-fund heiress to an oil company in Texas you would have chosen for him, but I’m the one for him, tough shit.

Erik seemed to have finished his measurements, taking note of them on a little yellow notepad with a fountain pen in his manicured fingers; “Annette, what do you think for colors. I’m thinking black and white with a gold embellishment.”

“I don’t fucking care,” Annette said, her tone biting. She sat in the armchair facing Kenzie, eyes falling down Kenzie’s small form; half-full of resentment, half a simmering superiority.

“Ummmmm,” Erik said, rolling his eyes a little again. “Honey, you’re the one who insisted she do this with you in the first place.” Kenzie gave him a grateful look.

“Mackenzie, I hope you understood how serious I was last night,” Annette said, ignoring Erik. Kenzie bit into the inside of her cheek, willing herself to stay calm. “If you are offered another article in the nature of the one published on Friday, you will turn it down.”

“Annette, with all due respect, I’m a journalist working for a liberal publication. I’m not a Republican, and dating Duncan doesn’t suddenly make me a centrist. Maybe you should ask Duncan what he really wants for the company in the first place, since he’s going to be helping you run it soon.” The words tumbled out of her, and Kenzie immediately bit her lip, fumbling her hands together. Oh fuck, Kenz. What was that.

A cold pallor fell over Annette’s face; it made Kenzie’s blood chill in her veins. Erik’s mouth snapped shut and he raised his eyebrows, a little hiss of air escaping his lips. Annette sat up very straight in the chair, setting her hands on the armrests with her fingers tightly curled. “He told you that, did he,” she hissed.

“Yes. We’re together now. I deserve to know about his life.” Kenzie tried to quell the tremble that had started in her hands; adrenaline pumped through her, making her feel as though she’d just taken a hit of weed. “You seem determined to hate me, Annette, but I don’t hate you at all. I wish you could see that Duncan doesn’t want what you want; that he’s sensitive and good and kind and wants to be surrounded by real things, beautiful things. He just wants to be loved, just wants to love--and we love each other. Why would you try to deny him of that?”

“I don’t have time for this today.” Annette stood, eyes blazing. “Mackenzie, if you speak a word of what Duncan has told you to anyone, I will make sure you seriously regret it. Erik, get her a fucking dress, I don’t give a shit what it looks like. Give her a fucking brown bag to wear for all I care.” She stormed out the door, slamming it behind her.

“Oh, honey, you are Madeline Stone’s daughter, aren’t you?” Erik turned to Kenzie, a grin falling over his features, his long eyelashes batting at her. “She had that coming; and you have nerves of steel.”

“Not really feeling like it at the moment,” Kenzie said, voice audibly shaking. Now that she had started to come down from the adrenaline, she felt woozy and sick.

“So, what do you want to wear?” He pressed a finger to the side of his face.

Kenzie tried to clear her head, her mind frenzied and racing from the exchange with Annette; then, like clouds parting to the sun, she thought of the one friend who had been a constant in her life since they were in middle school; their friendship carrying her through high school and shitty jobs and college and a breakup and her bumpy first year at the Post when her self-doubt had been at an all-time high. Clairebear. Morgan Winthrop.

“My...my best friend Claire. She works for a designer. Morgan Winthrop.”

“Oh, honey, I know Morgan. We go way back. We used to go to Studio 54 together. You want Morgan to make your dress?”

“I--Yes. Yes I do.” Kenzie tossed her head back, pushing her chin out. To hell with this. It’s my life and my relationship and if I have to go to this Gala, I want to wear what I want to wear. The theme is based on me after all. Gold in the darkness. He said it was based on me. That it’s for me. It’s me.

“Darling, I think that’s marvelous.” Erik tucked his head down to her conspiratorially. “I can see why you’d be drawn to Morgan’s aesthetic. And I think she’d know just what to do for you. A little birdy told me Duncan based the theme on you, a little slice of starlight--little golden moonbeam that you are. I’ve never seen him this way. You’ve gotten down under his skin, babydoll. You’re in the soul of him, now.”

“So...you’ll help me?”

“Darling. In a minute. I want to see that boy happy. And Annette does, too. She just needs to realize that. With your help, I have a sneaky suspicion that won’t take as long as one might have thought. You’re a bold little burst of fresh air.”

Kenzie hopped down from the dias, heart pounding, and went to the armchair where she’d placed her convertible bag, pulling her phone in its gold case out, opening her contacts to Clairebear. She hit the call button, raising the phone to her ear. Claire picked up after two rings. “Hello, Kenzie? Is everything okay?”

“Clairebear, I need your help. I need Morgan’s help. I need Morgan to make my dress for the Shepherd Freedom Foundation Gala. And I need it to be the most amazing fucking dress of all time.”

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