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werejusttouchingeachother · 4 years

Text

Whipped

(d.ksoo)

Req: fluff + smut with Kyungsoo by @johnniverse Pairing: actor!Kyungsoo x baker!reader Words: 10,609k Genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut Warning: cursing, smut, mature Summary: Your close friendship with Korea’s favourite actor is suddenly strained when he begins acting strange after returning home. Three nights of disappointment and several drinks later, the memory of a rhubarb Eton mess lingers in the air as you find yourself finally seeing your best friend in a different light. Tags: actor!Soo, slightly chef!Soo, baker!reader, cursing, flirting, sexual tension and fluffy smut A/N: To the req, I hope you like it and it isnt too cringy lol, I always struggle with fluff. Also P.S, I’m never doing the fake texting image thing ever again, I had to use both my phone and laptop to edit/upload the pics in order and it was a pain in the ass especially for a fic this long (and on a side-note, props to all the text-message fic authors, this sHIT IS HARD JFC SERIOUSLY Y’ALL ARE AMAZING AND DEDICATED AF, I APPRECIATE THE EFFORT)

The smell of butter and dough that surrounded you usually helped calm your nerves but tonight could perhaps be the first time that was an exception. After all, it had been months since you last saw your best friend, Kyungsoo.

There weren’t many people around at this late hour of the night and you were thankful for the silence, for the peaceful atmosphere that was usually a rare occurrence at the bakery’s kitchen. Only when your nerves had crept into your worried thoughts as the silence prolonged had you finally scrolling to the playlist of soft instrumentals that you usually had playing at the bakery during work hours, letting the music fill the empty kitchen while you worked.

You hum softly to Billie Eilish and Khalid’s ‘lovely' as you place the tiny specks of edible gold foil atop the chocolate tart. Kyungsoo didn’t love the gold foil—he called it “too bougie”—but you knew that he didn’t hate it either. Besides, you couldn’t help the dramatic flair that you always brought to your desserts; it was what you were popular for, after all.

You’d met Kyungsoo as a customer at your artisan café almost three years ago when he’d dropped by late in the night to ask for a full-sized cake. You’d heard your co-worker Yixing apologetically inform him that there weren’t any such cakes readily available just a few minutes short to closing hours and that customers usually pre-ordered them in advance but you’d stepped out of the back-kitchen then to ask the desperate-sounding customer whether a red velvet cheesecake was fine with him.

You can still recall how you’d stumbled over your own words as your eyes finally fell on the late-night customer—Do Kyungsoo, the upcoming handsome actor who had swept over the nation with his popularity after his latest movie. Your first thought had immediately been, ‘Holy hell, he looks more beautiful than he does on the screen’.

It was only much later that you’d revealed to him that the original recipient of the cake was a little girl turning eight the next day. Kyungsoo had been stunned at the revelation and even to the present day, he still wondered why you hadn’t turned him away to find another bakery instead of going to the hassle of giving away a pre-baked cake that resulted in you pulling an all-nighter to bake another for the actual customer.

But how could you have refused? With his warm earnest brown eyes that reminded you of the pools of dark chocolate batter that you’d been whisking back in the kitchen, his cheeks that shone like freshly glazed pastries with the sheepish heart-shaped smile that put even the sun to shame, you couldn’t help but relent and give him the red velvet cheesecake that you’d been preparing for a client to pick up the next morning.

Although Kyungsoo had left in a hurry after accepting the box that night, he had visited the bakery around brunch hour the next day to thank you personally—and “properly”. Both of you had introduced yourselves and you’d been surprised at how down-to-earth and friendly he’d been, taken aback by his genuine interest in your bakery and all the desserts that you’d had. After conversing, there grew a mutual admiration—you’d never imagined that such a famous actor was also an incredible cook with an intense passion for food while having such an avid interest and genuine fascination towards your baking.

It had been the initial blossoming of a beautiful delectable friendship. You’d never thought you’d grow as close to him as you did but there was an instant connection after that first conversation at the kitchen of your bakery, a way in which both your personalities perfectly complemented each other and fit together just right. Of course, your mutual interest for food only fuelled the friendship further.

That was three years ago. Back then, it had started as a friendship but slowly bloomed to an unhealthy crush on your part. And who could blame you? Kyungsoo was unbelievably perfect—with his charming smile, his friendly and kind nature, his heart of gold and just by being an absolute sweetheart, you struggled to keep your emotions at bay as you got closer to him. He set the standard entirely too high and there was a small part of you that even blamed him for never being able to find a boyfriend. Every blind date and man that your friends introduced you to all paled in comparison to Kyungsoo, multiple meals and walks spent with them feeling extremely dreary when you spent the entire time drawing analyses of them in your mind based off of Kyungsoo as the yardstick.

However, it was a secret that you were certain you’d carry to your grave. He already had hordes of fangirls and half the country pining for him, he didn’t need to worry about you shooting heart-eyes at him too.

Besides, you cherished your relationship with Kyungsoo entirely far too much to risk losing all of it with a silly confession. You were close with his mother who called you more often than she even called him sometimes to chat with you idly about recipes, you knew how he hated parsley a lot more than he let on, how he’d admitted that your lemon meringue pies were his favourite dessert in the entire world and how he hated early morning shoots the most and could never get used to them no matter how many times he did it.

It wasn’t one-sided—he knew you like the back of his hand too. Kyungsoo knew about your coffee addiction that he always called unhealthy, how much you loved crafting recipes in your kitchen late into the night until you got it perfect, how you absolutely hated thunderstorms and could even tell whenever you were upset even from a mere text, prompting him to call you as soon as he could to talk about it.

It was too much to risk such a great friendship for a stupid crush. He meant too much to you which is exactly why you’d settled for never ever confessing to him.

You hum softly as you finally pulled your face away from the table, a satisfied smile coming upon your face as the finished tart lay atop the marble counter, gold flecks glinting in the yellow lights of the kitchen.

You picked up your phone then, frowning as you noticed the lack of texts. Kyungsoo had finally completed the premiere and tour for his latest movie, arriving back home early today morning for a well-deserved break, albeit short. You knew that his friends would most probably throw him a party—as per their tradition—but he’d texted you earlier that he would definitely drop by the bakery around midnight, at the latest.

Which was your tradition. He’d visit his mother, have a meal with his parents and then come straight to you, loudly yelling that you’d better have his favourite pies waiting for him, “or else”.

You stare at your phone, contemplating if you should send a picture of the tart and fully utilise his weakness for sweet treats against him but the screen suddenly lights up with an incoming message.

You sigh as you place your phone back on the counter and glance dejectedly down at the tarts. Pursuing your lips, you wondered if there was something wrong and if Kyungsoo was okay—it was the first time that he’d cancelled on your tradition of meeting you on the day that he got back itself.

He’s at home, probably well-fed, pampered and completely spoiled rotten by his mother so you decided to not dwell further on it. You place the tarts into airtight containers and placed them in the fridge then, yawning softly as you decided to call it a day and head home.

You were positive that you could see the colour red as you glanced at the clock hanging over the paintings on your wall, feeling more livid than you’d ever been.

It had been three days. Three days since Kyungsoo had arrived and your stupid “tradition” was in shreds—the both of you hadn’t met at all.

The day after the night he spent at his parents’ place, you waited for him all morning at the bakery before texting him. He’d called you immediately and apologised profusely, saying that he had to meet his manager at the company and that something urgent had come up. You’d let it go again but he hadn’t contacted you at all after that and you’d waited all day until finally calling him right before bed.

The conversation had been short, his words muted and seeming tired so you’d hung up without pressing too much.

But then you’d went over directly to his parents’ place yesterday. You’d been stunned to find that he wasn’t there, his mother cheerfully mentioning that he had left early in the morning “because of some work” and you didn’t have the heart to tell her that you’d lost your appetite. After stuffing yourself full with an entire lunch that his mother had not let you leave without, you’d called him. He’d apologised again, “another work thing” and finally ended the call after mutually agreeing that he’d come over to your place early the next morning, eat breakfast with him and heading back to the bakery later in the afternoon.

It was the next morning, the pancakes you’d made were cold and soggy now, the clock read 10:19AM and Kyungsoo was nowhere in sight.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” you hissed murderously, grabbing your phone and pulling up your messages to text him.

You shoved your phone away in fury, grabbing the plate of pancakes and hurriedly storing them back in the oven before grabbing the keys to your car and heading out of your apartment. You had half-a-mind to drive over to the company and ask his manager which goddamn hotel he was staying at before taking a deep breath, muttering a string of curses lowly to clear your head and pulling out of the parking space.

The entire day was a mess. Chanyeol, your commis baker, was surprised to see you head in earlier than you said you would, all of the kitchen crew and bakers flinching as you glared and yelled at them to get their shit together. You busied yourself in the kitchen, feeling Johnny’s wary eyes on you as you punched the dough like a possessed madwoman. Perhaps you weren't as good at masking your emotions as you thought you were, the entire staff catching onto the fact that their usually-cheerful patisserie chef was perhaps not seeing dough for fresh bread but instead visualising the mochi cheeks of the man whom Korea had lovingly dubbed as the actor with the most perfect heart-shaped smile.

Perfect, my ass, you thought derisively.

The day passed in phases. By 4PM, you’d baked way more puff pastries than necessary, waving off Chanyeol who meekly suggested to stop making so many since there was already a piling excess which would most probably be wasted if not sold by tonight. You told them all to just take some home, that there were your treat and involuntarily, your hands started to slow down as evening dawned, your upper arms beginning to ache slightly because you didn’t pace yourself in your rage.

You sighed as you headed to the back of the kitchen, walking through the smaller door that was alongside the pantry—a smaller space that was solely for you, a place that you lovingly called your own and was the birth of many of your sweet creations.

The anger shifted to the second phase in the evening, one that infuriated you more because at least you were productive with your fury. Now, you just slumped at the marble countertop while staring at the small fridge in the corner that still held the gold-leafed chocolate tart from two nights ago.

You sighed as you buried your face in your flour-stained palms. This has never happened and it was stressing you out in levels that you had never expected it to—because you’d never had a fight with Kyungsoo. Petty arguments, sure, but nothing that couldn’t be solved with his spaghetti or your macaroons.

Then again, he’d never been like this. Never had he avoided you, never had he cancelled multiple times on you repeatedly, never had he broke the sacred tradition of meeting you as soon as he was back. It had been too many times now to be a mere coincidence, he was definitely avoiding you. You could tell that he was lying and your anger from today morning had subsided to just an intense worry that felt like cramps in your lower abdomen, sighs falling from your lips as you wondered what was wrong.

You thought about calling his mother for a brief moment but you could already guess that she was just as oblivious as you, maybe even more. She hadn’t seemed fazed when you’d went over yesterday, hadn’t noticed the distress on your face as you realised that you’d missed him yet again.

The rest of the day seemed to drag on forever. Your limbs were sore and you knew your bed would be nothing short of welcoming right now but you didn’t want to go back home in a state like this where your thoughts would be louder than ever.

Around 9PM, you decided to call it a day and closed up early. You could see the relief in everyone’s faces, especially Chanyeol who looked like he wanted nothing more than to go home and pass out. Once the entire crew had left the bakery with a box of all your rage-fuelled treats—Chanyeol had been right, there had been way too many puff pastries, cake pops and enough cookies for the entire neighbourhood—you sat alone in your workspace with nothing but silence echoing around you.

Sighing softly, you stood up and connected your phone to the small Bluetooth speakers placed at the corner of the room, putting on your Coldplay playlist. You washed your hands in the sink before setting out to make the lemon meringue pie.

There was a reason why Kyungsoo loved it the most amongst every other dessert you made—it was your go-to dessert whenever you were upset. Although the recipe wasn’t challenging nor was it particularly difficult to make, it does require a lot of patience and dedication to get a flawless pie every time. Kyungsoo loved watching you create it; you’d lost count of the number of times he’d walked in to see you furiously whipping the cream filling for the pie. The amount of concentration it took at each step usually helped calm your nerves, distracting your noisy thoughts enough to focus on the dessert at hand.

Initially, you’d thought he called it his favourite only because he’d seen first-hand how much effort it took to bake it but then Kyungsoo had explained that he could taste the effort, that the tarty tanginess of the lemon filling which would first wash over his tongue slowly morphs into the subtle sweet aftertaste of the creamy meringue which was addicting enough to make you crave for more.

There was a small part of you that didn’t believe him when he’d said that and an even smaller part that had been too flattered to believe it, unable to even form a coherent response to it but baking the pie now made your chest ache as it occurred to you that it’d probably join the tarts in the fridge from two nights ago.

The lemon meringue pies tasted best when eaten immediately and he knew it—which was exactly why he often sat around to watch you make it.

You decided not to dwell on it. Once you were done with the pie, you’d call him one last time to ask if he could meet you wherever possible tonight itself. You’d use the pies as an extra leverage, perhaps as a ruse to just lure him out. Just so you could yell at him for being an idiot right at his face instead of at the phone.

You’d just lined the pastry base into the pan and chilled it for an hour before baking it in the oven while you whisked the lemon filling. The humming of the oven had involuntarily made your shoulders loosen up as you lost yourself in making the lemon filling and you were softly singing along to Yellow as it echoed around the small kitchen space.

The song suddenly stopped and your hands froze reflexively as you turned around to see your phone lighting up with an incoming call.

‘satansoo😈💕’

You dropped the whisk immediately and grabbed the dishcloth, wiping your hands hastily as you strode around the counter. You threw the cloth aside, hands still feeling slightly sticky as you grabbed your phone and disconnected the Bluetooth connection.

Your voice was slightly breathless as you finally answered, “Soo? Hello? Kyungsoo?”

There was dull music faintly thumping in the background but at a distance, as if muted. You frowned as the pause on the other side of the call lasted for almost three seconds before finally hearing an unfamiliar male voice.

“Hello? Y/N? Is this Y/N?”

“Yes, yes, it’s me,” you said loudly, furrowing your eyebrows as you felt a sense of dread creep into you. “Who is this? Where’s—?”

“You were the first on his emergency contact list,” the man interrupted, making your heart drop to your feet.

“What’s going on?” You asked hurriedly in a panic, your eyes widening as you felt your stomach twist. “Where’s Kyungsoo? Is he okay?”

“Ma’am, my name is Woo Shik and I’m the bartender at Club Exodus. Your friend is really really drunk,” the man replied, sounding slightly exasperated. “He came in around 7PM and got a room alone although we told him that he can’t do that singly but he insisted and said he’d even pay more for it. And now-now he’s just really drunk. He’s been yelling your name for the past half hour and crying something about rhu.. rhu something? Itaewon mess?”

“Rhubarb Eton mess,” you deadpanned, sighing. “I’m… I’ll be there as soon as I can. Could you just text me the address of the club, to this number?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll send the location right now.”

“Okay, thank you, I’ll be there.”

You hang up quickly and your limbs feel like they’re frozen, uncoordinated from your brain as you will yourself to move. You feel disoriented, a thousand thoughts flying through your head as you quickly pull off your messy apron and grab your phone. You don’t bother fixing yourself much, knowing that you probably smelled like fresh dough and lemons as you hurriedly shut off the oven. You pause as you notice the halfway baked pie shell, wondering if you should call Chanyeol and ask him if he could clean up in here as a favour.

The large grandfather clock in the main lounge area of the bakery suddenly sounded, echoing softly in the back-kitchen and you glanced down at your phone.

10PM.

He’s been drinking by himself for three hours.

“Fuck it,” you mutter, snatching the oven mitts and not even bothering to put it on as you use it just to shield your hand whilst grabbing the hot pie tray.

Your legs seem to move faster than your brain then, your body moving almost robotically as you threw the half-whisked lemon filling in its large glass bowl, the pastry shell and the cream for the meringue into the small fridge. It only held a few failed recipes and a couple of disfigured-looking pastries that you usually snacked on, along with Soo’s dark chocolate gold tart from two nights ago that you hadn’t had the heart to throw away, having expected him to walk into the bakery at some godforsaken hour and claim the dessert.

You felt a slight ache now as you stashed everything into the fridge, knowing how many ingredients that you’d just wasted because there was no way even you could resurrect or save this disaster after leaving this kitchen now.

Knowing that there was no time to regret it, you quickly cleaned up the counters and the rest of the workspace, grabbing your car keys and the lock to the bakery. You closed up the store and hurriedly got into the car, pulling up the location that the bartender had just sent you as you started driving to the club.

Your worry finally had a chance to fully materialise through the drive, your anxiety not allowing you to even play the radio as you raced to Club Exodus. It briefly occurred to you that there probably was a huge problem, something big that was worrying Kyungsoo if he was willing to go to the extent of booking a hotel room away from his parents and even avoiding you.

If there was anyone besides his mother who could read and see through him as well as she did, it was you.

God, Kyungsoo, what is going on?

You pulled up to the front of the club in almost half an hour, quickly jumping out and hurriedly gesturing to the car at the valet service guy standing at the entrance before heading in.

You approached the woman at the reception, your voice low as you asked, “I’m looking for Woo Shik? He’s with a friend of mine…”

“Oh yes, ma’am, hold on.” You weren’t even looking around the place, your senses almost numbed with tension as you followed the uniformed man to whom she gestured, one step behind him as he lead you away from what sounded like the main hall with its booming music that you could feel reverberating through the walls.

He showed you to a door and you could already hear Kyungsoo’s deep laughter even before entering. You pushed open the door and your eyes immediately fell on your best friend, his cheeks appearing redder than you’d ever seen them as he laid back on the black leather couches. A man in the dark burgundy uniform of the club who you assumed to be Woo Shik was trying to clear the table alongside the couch in a desperate attempt to save the bottles and glasses of alcohol from falling onto the floor.

“Kyungsoo,” you said flatly and Woo Shik looked up from the couch towards you, wide eyes filled with exasperation.

“Y/N?” He asked hopefully and you nodded, sighing.

“Did he drink more after we called?” You asked, stepping into the room fully and scrunching your nose in disgust at the way the place was reeking with alcohol.

“No, but he’d been chugging for a while and they’re all settling in now, I think,” Woo Shik explained tiredly, stepping away to let you walk around the table towards your drunk best friend.

You forgot what to even say as you looked at Kyungsoo who was giggling giddily on the couch, his eyes closed as his hands flailed mindlessly. He looked almost smaller in the way that he was curled up on the leather seats and you could see that he’d grown thinner since the last time you’d seen him. His cheeks were very flushed and that’s when you realised that this was the first time you’d seen him so shit-faced drunk. Of the both of you, he was the one with the higher tolerance and he’d seen you blackout drunk more times than you’d seen him in the past three years and it occurred to you that he must have definitely had way too much than usual tonight to be like this.

“Soo,” you heard yourself mumble, your hands reaching for his that were still blindly reaching for something in the air. His eyes snap open when he feels your hands clasp around his, dark shining gaze shifting towards you. You watch as his eyes widen and even before you can react, his grip tightens fiercely around your hand as he yanks you to him with a high-pitched squeal of your name.

You curse as you almost collapse on top of him on the couch, feeling his body beneath yours that was radiating so much warmth that you would have mistaken him to have a fever if it weren’t for all the alcohol lying around.

“Hiiiiiiiiiiii,” Kyungsoo slurred, smiling happily up at you as he wrapped his arms snugly around your middle while staring down at you. You felt your heart slightly melt at his elated expression, your anger and worry momentarily dissipating as you gazed back into his shining eyes.

“Hi,” you replied softly, feeling almost shy from the way he was looking at you as you realised that Woo Shik was still in the room and probably waiting for you to collect the mess that you had in your arms who had caused him enough trouble.

“Okay, can you sit up?” You ask slowly like you’re talking to a child as you pull away enough to help him sit upright. He’s still gripping one of your hands tightly and you let him use your other arm as a support to pull him upwards slowly so as not to make him dizzy.

You look up at Woo Shik then, your tone apologetic as you ask, “How much is all of this?”

“He already paid, ma’am,” Woo Shik replied, shaking his head at you.

“Okay, I’ll just take him away then, I’m so sorry for the trouble,” You quickly say as you grab Kyungsoo’s arm and throw it around your neck. You put your own arm around his waist, holding him to your side while trying not to inhale the alcohol-stench reeking off of him. Woo Shik offers help but you shake your head at him as you help Kyungsoo out of the club. He suggests the back entrance then, mentioning that it’d be safer because of his actor status and quickly hurries to tell the valet to bring your car.

You manage, with much difficulty, to finally seat Kyungsoo inside your car and strap him in safely. Once he is settled, you sincerely thank Woo Shik for all his help and make a mental note to send him some treats tomorrow and finally get back into your car. After driving away from the club, you slow down at a secluded alley and turn to Kyungsoo whose head is turned to face the window.

You gently shake his shoulder, wondering if he’s asleep as you softly call out, “Soo? Kyungsoo?”

His eyes blink open slowly and he turns to you, appearing almost woozy. You watch then as his eyes widen and the same elated expression from earlier washes over his face, his arms reaching out to wrap tightly around your frame as he again exclaims, “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii.”

“Yeah, yeah, hi, hi,” you mutter, rolling your eyes in exasperation as you try to pull away from his death-grip. Any other time, you’d have been taking videos of him like this to use as precious blackmail later.

“Soo,” you call out his name again as you try to get his attention on you. Once he is blinking at you while still grinning like an idiot, you enunciate slowly, “Your hotel. Where is it? Which hotel are you staying at?”

Kyungsoo blinks incomprehensibly and you see his grin widen, mouth opening excitedly to squeal your name again and you manage to grab his arms, stopping him from hugging you yet again.

“Kyungsoo!” You call out loudly, watching him flinch and you instantly lower your tone as you slump back in your seat while staring at him helplessly. There was no way you could take him back to his parents’ place when he was like this and you knew that his mother didn’t know the hotel that he was staying at either since she hadn’t mentioned it the last time.

Sighing, you turn with resignation towards the steering wheel and start up the car again, deciding to just take him home.

It wasn’t like he’d never been to your place before—he’d slept over on your couch multiple times but this would be the first time that he’d be doing it when absolutely wasted.

Kyungsoo hums softly beneath his breath as you drive and you’re quiet, listening to him as you chew on your lip nervously while wondering if you should talk to him. You knew he was drunk as hell and by the state that he was in, you guessed that his chances of remembering any of this tomorrow morning would probably be extremely low.

You decided to risk it.

“Soo,” you started tentatively and you were surprised when the humming stopped, knowing his attention was on you. You clear your throat before asking slowly, “Why didn’t you meet me?”

He frowns and you can hear the pout in his voice as he slurs, “Because you’re an idiot.”

You turn to look at him in amazement, eyes wide at the stupid response. “What?”

You turn back to the road as he continues, “It’s true. My mother says so too.”

“Your-your mother?” You sputtered, feeling more confused by the second. What the hell is he talking about? “She said not to meet me because I’m an idiot?”

“Nooooooooo,” Kyungsoo whined and you noticed him shift in his seat slightly from your peripheral as he explained, “I decided not to meet you. Mom told me that I’m an idiot. I think you’re the idiot but Mom says it’s me.”

You should just pull over and leave him on the roadside.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to remain calm as you reminded yourself to treat him like a child. He is a child and you need information so you tried again, slowly asking, “Why are we idiots?”

There’s a pause then and Kyungsoo mumbles something in reply, incoherent again.

You slow to a stop at the red light as you turn to face him fully now, squinting at him. “What? Why are we idiots, Kyungsoo?”

“Because I like you,” Kyungsoo sighs loudly and your eyes widen then, heart jumping to your throat.

Everything freezes around you and you stare at him, certain that you’d heard wrong as he leans back against the headrest, sighing dramatically again as he softly explains, “I’ve liked you for a long time but you’re an idiot to never see it. Mom told me I’m the idiot for never telling you but you’re the idiot for never seeing the signs.”

“S-signs?” You repeated, your voice cracking in your throat. Your heart is pounding in your ears as you ask quietly, “What signs?”

Kyungsoo sighs again, longer this time and you’re almost tempted to grab him by his shoulders and shake him angrily to get him to speak faster. You felt like you were going to be sick and this idiot was putting on the show of his life, acting dramatically like his rent was due the next morning.

“Sooooooo many signs, Y/N,” he slurs your name, dragging his words tiredly as he turns to you. He faces you and pouts childishly as he asks, “You think I run to all my friends’ arms whenever I come home on break? You think I cook with parsley which I hate with all my heart for anyone else? It’s only for you, because of how much you love it on your spaghetti. Most of my friends don’t even know I cook. I never even had a thing for sweets until you and I told you that but you’re an idiot. You thought its cause I love everything you make that much but that’s only a part of it. You idiot.”

You stare at him speechlessly and jump when you hear a loud honk behind you. Dazed, you look ahead and realise the traffic lights had changed to green, slowly prompting you to shift the gear and start driving again as the cars continued honking noisily behind.

You swallowed loudly, hearing an internal screaming in your head as you tried to gather your thoughts and process the words you’d just heard. You’re about to ask more, you don’t even know what, when you hear him murmuring softly again. You catch the word ‘rhubarb’ and start to ask why he kept ranting about your Rhubarb Eton mess custard and that’s when it suddenly hits you.

The last time that he’d come home for break, the time that he’d spent with you before leaving for the movie that he’d just finished shooting, you’d made him the Rhubarb Eton mess custard. The call to travel to Japan had been abrupt, causing him to have to leave on short notice and he’d spent the night before his flight with you at the bakery. It was after working hours, close to midnight and you’d been experimenting and crafting desserts with rhubarbs since they were in-season and had whipped up the Rhubarb Eton mess custard quickly just for him.

He’d watched you in his usual seat opposite the counter as you made it and after having his first spoon, he’d scooped a spoonful of the creamy custard and fed it to you. After taking the bite, however, the blood-red juice of the rhubarb had stained your lips with a bit of the whipped cream at the edge of your mouth.

Kyungsoo had reached out almost reflexively, his thumb swiping against your lip and you’d gone still, both of your gazes locking as you’d felt the atmosphere shift. You thought it had only been in your head, that it had only been you wondering what the expression on his face would be if you leaned forward and sucked the cream from his thumb, if his eyes would dilate watching your lips wrap around his digit the way that you were sure your eyes had when his hand had reached towards your mouth.

You could still recall how terse the silence had been then, both of you in a silent stare-off as you waited for the other to make a move and Kyungsoo had finally broken the moment by retrieving his hand, flashing you an innocent grin as he licked the cream from his thumb and quietly finished the rest of the dessert.

Your heart had been hammering in your chest that whole night and you’d never even known.

“Oh god,” you breathed out involuntarily as understanding finally dawned over you. Kyungsoo had been humming beside you again but at your words, he went quiet and you continued, “The rhubarb custard. You’re talking about—”

Kyungsoo groaned loudly then, confirming your suspicions as he huffed in annoyance.

“I wanted to kiss you so bad that night,” he almost whined and you felt your cheeks reddening at his confession as he continues ranting, “You were just standing there with your lips looking all glossy and red from the syrup and that stupid whipped cream on your upper lip! I was already upset cause I had to leave you so soon and you were just standing there like an idiot and I just wanted to eat you instead of that damn custard.”

Holy fucking hell. “Kyung—”

“I’ve been whipped for you forever, Y/N,” Kyungsoo admitted, shutting you up abruptly. “I’m whipped for you like your whipped cream. Like your Eton mess. Like your perfect custard. Like your pies. Like—”

“Okay, okay, I get it, I get it,” you quickly interrupt him, desperately wanting him to shut up because you were certain that you’d cause an accident with the way your heart was pounding right now, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your thoughts were disorienting. You were driving mindlessly, taking longer routes because you didn’t how much longer this conversation would go, if it would last all the way to your apartment or if he’d sober up once he got home. You felt like you were dreaming, like this conversation was unreal and wondered briefly if you’d gotten drunk with him too back at the club and this was just some cruel dream.

“Why…” you croak and you clear your throat before trying again. “Why didn’t you meet me?”

“Because you’re an idiot.”

“I swear to god, I’m going to—” You loudly inhale through your mouth, knuckles almost turning white around the steering wheel as you grit out, “Did. You. Avoid. Me. Because you like me?”

“Min Ah…”

He trailed off and you frowned in confusion, pausing as you faintly recognised the name. “‘Min Ah’? Jung Min Ah? Isn’t that your co-star for the movie you just did?”

Kyungsoo nods and he mumbles sleepily, “She said she likes me during the wrap-up party but I could only think of you. I didn’t want to see you until I got my shit together and sorted out my feelings because I didn’t want to accidentally confess to you.” He pauses then and you’re surprised when he lets out a loud humourless laugh. “Maybe I am the idiot.”

You hesitate before asking, “Why don’t you want to confess to me?”

Kyungsoo is quiet for a while after that and you glance at him, wondering if he’d fallen asleep but he appears to be deep in thought. His words are almost unheard as he finally mumbles, “Because I don’t want to lose you.”

You fall silent at his heavy words, the intensity of the underlying meaning getting to you as you feel something break inside of you.

You don’t say anything for the rest of the ride then and Kyungsoo dozes off, falling asleep cutely with his mouth hanging open as he lays his head back against the seat while you drown in your thoughts.

Regardless of your feelings and how much you liked him too, the words that Kyungsoo had just uttered terrified you. Friendships were stable, they endured even the ugliest of fights and lasted longer while relationships were fragile; one slip and you could lose Kyungsoo. He didn’t confess to you because he didn’t know about your feelings but now that you knew that he felt the same, you didn’t know if you were brave enough to take the risk.

It could be the end to something beautiful.

But it could also be the beginning to something more beautiful, a small voice in your head reminded you.

Or it could be the beginning to something even more beautiful that would soon reach its untimely but inevitable end and leave you with only heartache and the absence of a best friend that you’d have to burden forever.

You sighed softly as you finally parked your car in front of your apartment. You glanced at Kyungsoo and realised he was sleeping soundly, looking so warm and comfortable that it made you hesitate in awakening him. You got out of the car and walked to his side, throwing his arm around your shoulder while softly calling his name. He woke up enough to step out of the car and you helped him up to your apartment, panting by the time you finally reached your door.

You lead him straight to your bedroom, resigning to spend the night on your couch since you knew he could definitely use the entire bed in the state that he was in. You help him out of the thickly-lined trench coat that he was wearing, holding your breath to not inhale the stench of the alcohol as you decided to just throw them all with the laundry tomorrow morning.

You remove his shoes and pull off his socks but your hands hesitate mid-air before reaching for his pants. It’s not like you hadn’t seen his legs before or anything—god knows he’d helped undress you from uncomfortable clothes on multiple nights when you’d gotten too drunk—but your stomach was twisting now as if he was a whole new person who you were stripping.

God, stop overthinking it.

You force yourself to help him out of his pants, purposefully not letting your eyes go astray as you decided to leave him in the thin black sweater that he was wearing and his boxers. You grabbed your blankets and tucked it around him, smiling slightly when you notice Kyungsoo immediately snuggle to the warm sheets like a child, making himself comfortable as he closed his eyes.

You went to the kitchen then, grabbing a tall glass of water and some aspirin pills before heading back to your room. You’d just placed them on the small bedside table and was turning to leave when you felt a fierce grip on your wrist.

Your breath stopped in your throat as you looked down to see Kyungsoo holding onto you, half-lidded eyes gazing up at you as he whispered one word.

“Stay.”

You step towards the bed then, getting on your knees on the floor so that your face would be at the same level as his. You raised the hand that he wasn’t holding to stroke his cheek gently as you murmured, “Sleep, Soo.”

He was quiet, his eyes still dark and intense as they remained locked with yours. Your heart thudded as you briefly wondered if he’d come to his senses and if he remembered everything that he’d just revealed to you but then he opens his mouth again.

“Do you know something?” His voice is hushed, like he’s telling you a secret and you shake your head quietly.

“You always smell like the bakery,” he whispers, smiling softly in a way that made your heart ache. “You smell like fresh bread and sweet vanilla and strong coffee. You smell like happiness. Like home.”

A soft sigh of disbelief escapes your parted lips at his words, his eyes having closed off while he spoke as he slowly fell into deep slumber.

You were so goddamn blind.

“We’re both idiots,” you snort quietly as you gently loosen his grip around your wrist and walk out of the room.

But you decided to be the bigger idiot.

You heard Kyungsoo shuffling inside your room around noon the next day, making you glance at your bedroom door from where you sat on the couch.

The night had seemed to last forever. After putting Kyungsoo to bed, you’d spent the entire night tossing and turning on the couch restlessly. You briefly considered waking up and baking something or even heading to the bakery so that you could angrily complete that lemon meringue pie you’d left half-baked but your body was extremely exhausted and refused to even move. All the activities of the strenuous day yesterday had completely worn you out yet your brain refused to cooperate, unwilling to grant you the bliss of sleep as your thoughts grew louder with each passing hour of the night. Kyungsoo’s words, his drunken confession all echoed like a haunting melody within your head, forcing you to reminisce and reassess every moment that you’d spent together, viewing it in a light that you’d assumed to only be exclusive to you but had perhaps been the same light that he’d been seeing you in as well.

You didn’t know what to do anymore. You felt more conflicted than you did when he had stood you up and you began to wonder if it had even been a good idea to even go to the club last night.

Should you have even brought him back to your place?

You could hear the shower in your room then and you knew he was probably washing off the events from last night, the stench of all the drinks that he’d downed. You sighed as you grabbed his chopsticks for the Chinese take-out that you’d just ordered—both of your go-to hangover food—since you knew he’d probably be hungry. You hadn’t bothered with breakfast because you knew that he wouldn’t wake up by then so you’d just settled on brunch.

The door opens and your heart jumps as you look up, eyes locking with Kyungsoo. He’d found one of his tees that he’d given you—“you stole it,” he insisted—and sweatpants that he’d left here from a previous sleepover. He looked better than he did last night and you cleared your throat, ignoring the nervous flutter in your chest as you asked blankly, “How’s your head?”

Kyungsoo nodded, stepping forward into the room. “It’s a lot better now. I woke up in the night with a headache and had the aspirin before sleeping again.” He hesitated before murmuring, “Thanks.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why’d you drink so much then, idiot?” You snort as you start to stand up, grabbing your phone.

You gesture to the food on the table. “I ordered Chinese. Have lunch and take another aspirin before you head back… home. Or to the hotel. Or wherever.”

Kyungsoo frowned at you as you searched for your bag. “Wait, what? You’re leaving?”

“I have a bakery to run, Kyungsoo,” you snort, finding your bag and grabbing your car keys as you head for the door while muttering, “I can’t keep coming in late because of you—”

“Y/N, I remember last night.”

You stop, hand freezing on the doorknob as your entire body goes still. Your back is facing him but you can feel his gaze on your back, feel the weight of it.

Kyungsoo’s usual deadpan tone sounds more wry than you’d ever heard it then as he says, “I remember last night so you can stop faking it and talk to me.”

Shit, shit, shit.

You take a breath, forcing yourself to slowly turn around and face him. You relent, throwing the keys and bag aside, crossing your arms in an effort to not reveal the way that your hands are slightly trembling as you nonchalantly reply, “I’m not faking anything, Kyungsoo, I am very mad at you.”

He rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to answer but you cut him off by asking, “How much?”

His gaze shifts to you and you clarify, “How much do you remember?”

“Enough,” Kyungsoo replies, carefully watching you now. When you don’t falter, he concedes, “Enough to know that I confessed to you.”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you uncross your arms. “Look, it doesn’t have to be—”

“Is this your answer?”

You stop then, looking up at him with wide eyes. You frown at the shift in tone, noticing the despair that he was trying to hide in his expression as you ask, “What do you mean?”

“The fact that you’re pretending that nothing happened,” he answered, stepping forward as he spoke. “The fact that you’re ignoring everything I told you last night. Does it mean that this is never happening? That you’ve never liked me the way I’ve liked you?”

Your eyes are wide, back pressed to the door as he stood in front of you. The words that you wished to respond—even though you had no idea what they even were—were stuck in your throat as you gazed up at him, your breath growing shorter as you felt him raise his arm beside you to place it on the door as if to cage you in.

“Y/N,” he whispered your name, his close proximity and husky voice making your head feel like it was going to spin. Your lips parted of their own accord, head slightly arching back to look up at him as his plush lips hovered over your own. His face was close enough that his warm breath was mingling with yours and you could smell the minty toothpaste—your minty toothpaste.

Your heart was hammering so loudly in your chest that you could hear it, your eyes greedily drinking in the close proximity as they ran over his face with enough scrutiny to commit every detail to memory—the way his long lashes looked against his pale cheek, the tiny almost invisible mole right over his upper lip and the way his eyes looked like they were shining from within as they gazed at you.

Your breath audibly hitched in your throat as he leaned his head slightly to the side, angling his lips to yours until there was only a fraction of space between your mouths. You held your breath as he murmured, the words brushing against your parted lips, “Stop me, Y/N.”

And then Kyungsoo was kissing you.

Your eyes seemed to refuse to close, your body frozen like a statue and your arms were immobile at your sides as you felt his plush lips press against yours. It was light, hesitant and tentative like he was waiting for you to shove him off any second but you could feel the blood pounding through your head and coursing within every vein at that moment.

Fuck it.

You raised your hands tentatively, closing your eyes and almost collapsed back into the door as you started kissing him back. You felt Kyungsoo move his hand from the door then to gingerly place it on your hip and his other hand took your raised one that was hovering between your bodies to place it on his shoulder.

You made a soft sound of approval as you finally melted into the kiss, closing your eyes and digging your fingers into his shoulder to kiss him harder. Kyungsoo grabbed you by your hip then, holding you flush against him as he started kissing you more passionately while you dropped cupped his face with both your hands. You traced your tongue over his lower lip slowly and he was instantly parting his lips, slipping his own tongue into your mouth. Your guess was right earlier, you could taste the mint and as corny as it was, it had never tasted sweeter.

The kiss grew tender as he realised how breathless you seemed to be getting, both of your pulling away slightly while smiling against each other’s lips. Your eyes fluttered open to see Kyungsoo was smiling so hard that his eyes had become little crescents as they looked at you.

“You didn’t stop me,” Kyungsoo breathed out, sounding incredulous enough that you let out a soft laugh.

“You’re an idiot,” you repeated his words from last night, thumb stroking his cheek affectionately before correcting, “Well, we both are. I wouldn’t have stopped you ever, Soo.”

He pauses, gaze shifting from both your eyes as he asks quietly, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“For the same reasons you didn’t,” you replied with a sheepish smile. You suddenly grin with the memory of last night as you say, “If only you told me earlier, I could have said that I’m whipped for you too.”

Kyungsoo’s eyebrows furrowed at that, nose scrunching cutely in confusion as he repeats, “Too?”

“You said last night that you’re whipped for me like whipped cream. That you’re whipped like my Eton mess, like my pies, like my custard—”

“Oh my god, stop!” Kyungsoo buried his face in the crook of your neck in embarrassment, making you burst out laughing aloud as you fully wrapped your arms around his back and held him to you. His voice was muffled as he mumbled, “Most of those things aren’t even whipped.”

“I know!” You laughed again and pulled him away enough from you to look at his face. His cheeks were faintly rosy and it reminded you of last night again.

His voice is grumpy as he asks, “What else did I say last night?”

“A lot of things,” you teased, grinning as you kissed the corner of his mouth. “Enough to torture you for at least a decade.” You gasp exaggeratedly, raising your voice dramatically as you wonder aloud, “Who would have ever thought that Korea’s favourite actor Do Kyungsoo who has an internal breakdown every time he has to do aegyo and act cute was actually so cheesy and corny? That he would look me in the eyes, with his chest out while proudly saying that he is whipped for me like my whipped cream, that he would rather eat me than my custard—”

Kyungsoo grabbed your face then and shutting you up by kissing you again. You grinned against his mouth as he wrapped his arms fully around your waist, lifting you up against the door so that your legs curl around his lean hips.

“Aren’t you hungry?” You murmured into the kiss.

“Yeah, for you,” he countered, kissing your jawline. His husky voice right in your ear made the small hairs on the back of your neck rise as he groaned, “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do this?”

“Mm, show me,” you hummed, taking his face into your hands again as you kissed him harder. You thought Kyungsoo would lead you to the couch but he carries you to your bedroom instead, laying you down on the edge so that your legs are hanging off the edge of the bed. You blink up at him, pouting slightly as you clutch the front of your shirt—his shirt. Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow then, smirking slightly as he asks, “In a hurry, are we?”

“You think you’re the only one who’s been waiting forever?” You retort, using your elbows to push yourself back further up the mattress. You grab his hand and yank him harshly towards you, making him stumble slightly as he almost fell over your body while you started lifting his shirt off of him.

Kyungsoo raises his arms, helping you pull off the thin shirt and you immediately grab his shoulders, pushing him onto the bed beneath you. He blinks up at you in surprise as you throw your leg over his waist to straddle him, his gaze questioning as he looks at the blouse that you still had on.

“I’m going to be so late for work,” you muttered, pulling the blouse off your neck and throwing it across the room as Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at you.

“Chanyeol can hold the fort down for one day, Y/N,” he snorts as he sits upright against the headboard to grab your hips and seat you on his lap properly. You feel the growing bulge beneath his sweatpants brush against your clothed core and your lips part open of their own accord, making him smirk almost dangerously at you as he murmurs, “Has anyone told you that you’re a workaholic, babygirl?”

The word is so foreign from his lips, his expression so foreign yet familiar as he gripped your hips tightly to adjust you right over the tent in his pants. He leans forward and kisses you with an almost vehement fervour, trailing his hungry mouth over your cheeks, jawline and down the curve of your neck. You sigh softly, eyes closing and head arching back as you feel his plush mouth suck on the sensitive soft spot on your throat, his tongue licking incessantly.

Kyungsoo’s hands move almost unnoticeably, curving around your back to unclasp your bra as he marks up your neck. There’s a fire coursing through your body, making you feel as if you’d been plugged into a circuit—every place on your body that he was touching; his lips, his fingers, his firm thighs spread beneath your own, his warm breath were all sending crackles and tingles of electricity through your veins.

You could feel the outline of his hardness against your thin shorts now, your wet heat pressed right up against him and his fingers expertly pull the bra off your body. His cool fingers are cupping your breasts then, thumbs stroking your nipples experimentally as he teasingly thrusts his hips up into you.

A loud moan leaves your lips unintentionally at the sparks of arousal ignited by his touch and your eyes snap open as you hear yourself, feeling Kyungsoo still slightly beneath you at the very porn-star-like noise that you’d just made.

He pulls away from your neck to look up at your wide eyes and you’re already opening your mouth to apologise, feeling the embarrassment swallowing you but he grabs the side of your neck then, kissing you fiercely.

“You sound so fucking beautiful,” he groaned huskily, closing his eyes as he leaned his forehead against yours, his voice a breathy whisper as he said, “To think that I could have been hearing those moans all this time.”

Your heart swells with an emotion that you can’t quite describe, an overwhelming need to feel as much of him taking over your senses as you crash your lips to his heatedly. Kyungsoo responds immediately, kissing you back just as hard as his fingers continue playing with your breasts and tweaking the nipples while you moan just for him.

Your own hand that had been on his chest lowers down his torso and slips underneath the elastic band of his sweatpants. Your fingers immediately wrap around his length, eliciting a groan at the back of his throat as you smile into the kiss while stroking him up and down.

Lips latching onto the spot beneath his ear, you kiss and suck at the skin gently while pressing him back against the headboard. Teasingly, you explore his length leisurely with your hand and feel the way that it is already slick with pre-cum, using your thumb to spread the fluid around the slit.

You gasp against his neck when his hands tighten harshly around your breasts, fingers squeezing your nipple roughly enough that you felt it all the way in your throbbing pussy. Quickening the pace of your wrist, you continue circling the soft bulbous head of his dick with your thumb while he gropes your breasts. You pull away then to look at him, watching the way his chest heaves with the movement of your hand and his eyes flutter dazedly at you.

His gaze is unfocused and you lean forward then, kissing him as you start stroking his length with repeated up-and-down motions. Kyungsoo grabs your wrist then, stopping you and he pulls away from your mouth enough to say, “You’re going to make me cum like this.”

Kyungsoo’s hands find your hips then, tugging at the black shorts that you had on and you let him slip his hands beneath the waistband, pulling both your shorts and panties down your bare thighs. You raise your ass off his lap and yank the material from around your ankles hurriedly before straddling him again.

You grab his erection then, holding your breath and watch Kyungsoo’s face, noticing the awe on his face as you rub his head over your slit that was glistening with arousal.

“Oh fuck,” he curses lowly as you guide his dick inside you, the head parting open your dripping slit and your eyes were already fluttering at the immense pleasure you felt with just his tip inside you. You didn’t even realise the way you’d been whimpering until Kyungsoo shifts his gaze higher to watch your face, staring at you as you arched your head back while slowly pushing yourself down onto his length.

Your free hand is on his shoulder, his own wrapped around your wrist as you whimpered his name breathily when you feel his thick length stretching your tight walls open in the most pleasurable way. Kyungsoo’s arms wrap around your waist then as you begin moving up and down on his lap, riding his dick at an already speedy pace while you felt your lower abdomen tighten with arousal.

His plush lips latched onto your breast then and you moaned loudly, grabbing the back of his head and holding it to your chest as he sucked your nipple into his warm mouth. The wet warmth of his tongue and lips, along with the way his dick felt inside you as the tip brushed against your clit with every movement you made all had you soon trembling on his lap as you tried to reach both your highs.

Growing impatient, Kyungsoo grabs your hips then and pulls you off of his length, making you gasp at the sudden feeling of emptiness, your walls desperately clenching around nothing. He shifts you around so that you’re lying back on the mattress, hands quickly removing the sweatpants that he still had on before crawling back atop you and spreading your legs wide.

His eyes are dark and heavy as they watch your face clearer then, memorising the way your lids flutter when he pushes his dick into your throbbing wetness again. You mewl softly as he fills you up again, already addicted to the way he feels inside you as you wrap your arms around his back.

You don’t get a moment longer to relish in the feeling as Kyungsoo immediately starts moving his hips at a quick and snappy pace against you, thrusting into you roughly enough that you can hear the echoes of skin slapping against skin. The wet squelching noises of your core become louder with every thrust, your walls tightening with the looming orgasm as he fucks you and you don’t realise how loud you are until he lowers his face to your chest.

Walls clenching around him tightly as if to suck him inside you, he groans at how utterly tight you feel as he thrusts faster. Your pussy convulses as his teeth sinks into your sore breast, Kyungsoo realising how sensitive you are over there by the way your body instantly reacts to him as you feel yourself finally fall off the edge.

Your nails are digging into his back and you groan as Kyungsoo’s hips stutter against yours, the rapid way that your pussy clenches and unclenches around him as you cum setting off his own orgasm. You gasp as you feel his warm heat flood into your slickness, filling you up as he continues sloppily thrusting to draw out both your orgasms.

You’re whining his name into his flushed neck as you slowly come down from your high, hand lowering to the small of his back as he collapses on top of you. He buries his face in your shoulder, breathing hard as you wrap your other hand around the back of his head while trying to catch your own breath. Feeling him soften inside you, he begins to pull away slightly but you wrap your leg around him and push him to his side so that he is still inside you with your body still pressed up against him.

You’d always thought Kyungsoo looked beautiful but you don’t think you’d ever seen him as radiant as he was right now, basking in a post-orgasm glow as he smiles at you. His gaze is filled with so much warmth and affection, the same expression that he’d had yesterday at the club when he’d first seen you and you feel shy all over again.

“Hi,” you mutter embarrassedly and Kyungsoo laughs softly, nudging your nose with his own.

“Hi,” he teases back, grinning.

He wraps his arm around your waist then, pulling you to his chest and you snuggle in that familiar warmth, smiling when you feel him bury his nose in your hair and inhale, remembering his drunken words from earlier.

‘You smell like happiness. Like home’.

You tightened your arms around Kyungsoo then, finally being able to realise the emotions that you always felt around him, that you always felt with him and that you felt now when you held him. The way that your heart had always swelled with every touch and gaze of his, that indescribable happiness that took over your entire body every time that he came back from a shoot and you had your arms around him again.

Best friend or boyfriend, Kyungsoo was your happiness.

He was your home.

372 notes · View notes

sweetestlamb · 4 years

Text

Jealous, My Ass

Genre- Is raunchy gutter filth a genre? Because that’s what this is.

Pairing- Ko-Mun Yeong/ Moon Gang-Tae

Warnings- See the genre. If you are an innocent lamb this is not for you. Also I am 100% a feminist (pussy power af) but I will be using some tropes and such I am only human y’all. Jealous hottie is hot. I also haven’t written anything in years so you know, be kind. I just couldn’t get them out of my head.

Summary: Gang-Tae is definitely not jealous. At all. Not even a little bit.

Bring home food. I’m hungry!

Mun-Yeong delicately presses send on her phone and flips it shut, falling back onto the vibrant red couch with a sigh. She sees the small seen on her phone screen notifying that Gang-Tae has received her message and impatiently waits for his reply. Seconds, turn to minutes and no reply comes and she feels her stomach twist in annoyance. Why isn’t he answering her? How dare he? Could he be busy? Why read her message only to ignore it?

She picks up her phone intending to ask him all those questions, when the little voice inside her head that always tells her the worst possible answers whispers “He doesn’t want you. You bother him and he only helps you because he feels bad for you. You’re a BURDEN!” She stands up and tries to physically shake off the those gut-wrenching thoughts- mind flashing back to all the times that the prince in question has saved her.

Riding in on his metal stead in torrential rain. Only to try to dump her back home.

Twisting the fingers of that politician’s son has he tried to slap her. Then walking away and leaving her on the sidewalk after ripping her to shreds.

Calling her an empty can. He had apologized for that but just like she told him bad memories had a way of wedging themselves in your heart and not easily coming out.

Taking that two-faced bitch’s side and telling her that she didn’t own him. Her feelings have changed since she made that claim to Joo-Ri that he was always hers. He was still just a pretty thing then. Now he’s..... more. And his dismissal now hurts more than before. He knows things about her that she has never uttered to anyone. He has seen her in situations that no one else ever has. Not even Sang-In. But she knows that he is also an expert at turning this feelings off. Unlike him, she wears her heart on the tip of her knife. It’s a bloody, messy thing. Locked up for so long that now it just leaks all over him.

Her phones finally vibrates with his answer and she tries not jump but her stupid body has been betraying her ever since he crashed into her life.

She picks up her phone and flips it only, eyes scanning when she sees his reply- No. She stares at the phone in disbelief and anger and- “He doesn’t want you. Nobody could love a monster like you!” This time she can’t ignore her mother’s screeching voice in her mind, sledge hammering into her confidence until it shatters under the pressure. That is the entirety of his response and she sits quietly on the couch feeling like an empty husk. Only years of rejections- him being one of the first- stops her tears from falling. Being around him has made her weak, she desperately forces herself to will her armor back up. She knows she has failed when her phone vibrates and her first thought is please be him.

It isn’t.

A number she doesn’t know pops up on her screen with a message- It was such a pleasure to see you today. I would love to take you out for dinner tonight. Are you free?

Coffee shop guy.

She doesn’t think about her answer before replying that’s another thing she started doing since meeting him and look just where that has gotten her. After replying she swipes up the stairs, dressing down bellowing behind her. She will not be weak. Plus, she’s fucking hungry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gang- Tae stares down at his phone in shock, genuinely surprised that she hasn’t said anything to retort to his short answer. She hates when he replies with only one word and usually follows those messages up with messages demanding more. She always demands everything he has. And then some.

He lov--- No. Stop. His heart burns in not jealousy remembering how she sized up that not handsome punk at the coffee shop. Gazing at him like he was something to be conquered and then shoving his hand on her perfect little waist. He scoffs recalling her admission that she was like Sang-Tae and only he could touch her only to then place a stranger’s hand on hi-her waist.

It’s not until Cha-Young walks in carefree as if he works in an ice cream parlor and not a psychiatric ward that he realizes that he is standing shirtless, gripping his shirt tightly between his fingers. He had become distracted after receiving her message demanding that he bring food. He wanted to give her the food, give her anything she wanted really. It scared him to hell. It wasn’t until he saw the smug smile and hungry stare in someone else’s eyes looking at her that he realized that maybe he wasn’t what she wanted anymore.

The way she had whispered “CEO” reminded him that despite what he had screamed at her idiot manager in the parking lot she was a celebrity. People wanted her. Men who had way more to offer and were’t terrified of taking what she was offering. She was so beautiful it made his jaw clench in frustration and her haircut only made her more beautiful, it was obscene and unfair. Her hair brushed against her define features and made her already long neck- look like it was never-ending.

“Gang-Tae. Hey, Gang-Tae! Are you listening? What the hell?”

Cha-Young’s voice broke him free from his internal suffering. He quickly put on his uniform shirt and turned his head, repressing all this emotions until his face was a blank slate.

“They need your help carrying a new patient. So stop checking yourself out, you narcissist!” He grabbed what looked like a candy bar before leaving to do whatever he thought constituted as doing work.

With a sigh he slammed his locker shut and left the room. Emotions warring in his mind but he knew from years of practice that none of them showed on his face. Today was going to be a long day.

It was a long day. Stubborn patients, lazy coworkers and he could feel Joo-Ri’s gaze on him whenever she thought he wasn’t looking. It all made him eager to leave, he only spared a smile imagining Mun-Yeong’s anger if she were here to see it happen. He was always mine. She was so possessive of him and he didn’t know yet how he felt about it.

He drove home, not knowing which Mun-Yeong he would get after refusing her and not getting anymore messages from her prior to that. He sighed in relief knowing that her violent tendencies were spared when it came to him. Unless she was violently teasing him until he felt like his skin might combust from the embarrassment and.....lust. He didn’t know how to react around her she made him feel things that he had told himself years ago, he wasn’t allowed to feel.

While others were sharing secret kisses and going on dates, he was learning how to care for his brother. He couldn't abandon him for such trivial things. Eventually girls realized that he wasn’t playing hard to get, there was no getting. Then they stopped. No more coy looks from under lashes, no more pink cheeks and school girl giggles. They moved onto boys that could give them what they wanted.

His plan had worked.

Until Mun-Yeong. She was persistent and his desire for her too made it hard to keep pushing her way. Her full lips called out to him, they both had a habit for grabbing the others wrist and her wrist felt so small and delicate in his hand. One good pull and she would come tumbling into this arms and he could see if her bubble-gum pink lips were as sweet as they looked.

The sound of the front door opening snapped him out of his reprieve- that seemed to be happening to him a lot today. And like a manifestation of his own thoughts there she was, and fuck she looked hot. Unbelievably hot.

He had never seen her in jeans before and the denim stretched down her long legs, hugging her petite curves in all the right wrong ways. A black crop top wrapped around her flat stomach and made her breasts look full, small but a perfect handful. Her shoes were the flashiest part of her outfit, red stiletto heels with a heel that looked like it could kill a man. Her hair was wet and tousled for a perfect messy bedhead look.

Error 404. Error 404. Error 404.

Her heels clicked as she started moving down the stairs, why was she moving in slow motion?

His tongue felt heavy in his mouth has she walked up to him. She stopped a few paces from him, not coming into his personal space like she normally would. When their eyes met the same lighting that always sparked between them, lit up but unlike the other times when she would move into his space like the big bad wolf. Her face was passive and she looked down at the keys in his hands.

“Give me the car keys” she said in that ridiculously sexy deep voice. He willed himself not to get hard, thinking about the patient that threw up on him to stop the blood from rushing down below. Up close he realized that her makeup was heavier than usual too. Dark smoky eyes with a winged liner as sharp as the knives she loved to collect and blood-red lips. He couldn’t stop thinking about kissing and smearing that lipstick everywhere.

As he stood there fantasizing about her as she stood there, he took a deep inhale of breath as she finally moved into his bubble but she was gone as quickly as she came. Snatching the keys from his slack hands.

She stepped around him and made to open the car door he had only just closed and he realized she did not intend to say anything more to him.

“Where are you going?” he asked his voice coarse with desire, she smelled amazing up close. Like cinnamon and something spicy that was irrefutably her.

She ignored him and opened the car door. His arm shot out and slammed it shut before his brain registered it planned to do that. It was minute but her small body jolted from the force that he used. He felt guilt for a second, he didn’t mean to scare her. He reached out to soothe her but before his hand could make contact, she backed up moving away from his touch for the first time ever.

“What’s wrong? Tell me where you’re going dressed like that.” He mentally celebrated when he saw her passive mask drop and righteous anger take its place.

“Move out of my way, I don’t need to answer your questions.”

“Mun-Yeong stop acting up.”

“Don’t give me orders!” He wasn’t ready for the bite behind her words. She was puffing with anger, chest rising quickly and he knew it wasn’t right but his eyes descended down to her chest. His mind provided a quick flash of how perfect her breasts would look bare, her nipples would be so pink and delicious.

It was so fast he almost missed it but he saw an answering flash of lust run across her face. She squirmed under this heavy gaze.

Her phone ringing cut through the tension like a knife. She answered it.

“Hello? Yes, I am on my way now. No. I can drive myself. I will see you soon. Goodbye, Daniel”

Daniel. DANIEL. Who the fuck was Daniel and why was he going to see his Mun-Yeong? He reached out and in a move that was completely out of character he grabbed her phone. She raged immediately reaching around him to get it back. Climbing his back in her quest to get it back. She was hot against his back.

“Don’t call this number again. She’s not coming” he said with finality before ending the call, before that not handsome punk could answer. She slumped on his back before sliding back onto her heeled feet. He turned around with fire in his eyes.

“You are going to meet THAT guy? Ko Mun-Yeong, he is a stranger. Are you crazy?!”

Her only response was to growl at him and wow that would sound amazing in bed as he entered her.

He didn’t know how to stop these thoughts now that they were out.

“Stay out of this. You don’t own me” she threw his words back at him. She was always doing that. It made him realize how stupid he was sometimes. The shock of hearing those words made him freeze and she used that time to enter the car and lock the door before he could stop her.

He spun around putting his hand on the glass and trying to make eye contact with her but she refused to meet his eyes. She pulled out of the make shift driveway like a bat out of hell.

He stood there feeling like the ground was crumbling beneath his feet.

“Don’t go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She drove down the road before pulling over to breath. What was it about him that got under her skin? She didn’t think he would care about her going out after refusing to bring her food and basically shutting her down every time she claimed they were more. She knew it was because of his brother but she couldn’t carry this on her own.

He was great at coming to her rescue but once that was over, she was pushed away again and she would never admit this out loud but it hurt.

It hurts.

Her phone began to ring and she started the car and drove off. She was still hungry. She wanted beef. Rare. The blood would sate her anger.

She didn’t make any attempts to enter the house quietly. Gang-Tae sat on the stairs eyes piercing into her own. She looked back emotionlessly not sure why he was still up. He never sought her out after fights instead waiting for the next disaster he could save her from. He seemed different today and she wondered why.

“You’re home late”

“So? she retorted defiantly, smelling the fight brewing in the air and hungry for it.

“I asked you not to go. Why can’t you ever listen to me?”

Flashbacks of her mother scolding her forced there way into her mind. You must always listen to me. Be a good girl and always obey Mother. Her heartbeat was loud in her own ears. Her eyes were burning with her effort not to cry. His eyes softened as if her thoughts were visible. He made her feel naked.

His arms flexed as he used them to propel himself off the stairs and for another first he gently wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I was jealous. I am jealous” he grumbled putting his chin on her hair. And for once she was speechless. Why would he tell her that? Wasn’t he scared that she would use that as a weapon against him? He shouldn’t trust her she was a monster.

“You’re not a monster. “

“Then what am I?”

With hesitation he replied, “I wish you were mine.” Her head snapped up so hard that if he hadn’t moved back she would have headbutt him.

“Kiss me” She didn’t know what she would do if he denied her now. This moment seemed important, defining.

He surged forward and kissed her, closed mouth but hard as if he was trying to fuse into her. “Did he kiss you? Did you let him kiss you?” he whispered into her mouth seemingly terrified of the answer but needing to know.

“No.” He pushed her into the wall and she hadn’t realized that he had been cornering her in for a while. She pressed her tongue into his mouth and felt him melt into her, his body a hard line. His muscles pressing her against the wall. He seemed inexperienced with kissing this way but he made up for it with enthusiasm. He chased her tongue and played with her as she teased him. Licking into her like she was dessert and he was ravenous.

Should I just play with you?

“Mun-Yeong tell me to stop. Please. I can’t stop.”

She ignored his pleas instead wrapping her arms around his neck and he instinctively scooped her up. Big hands gripping her ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh. Moaning his approval into her mouth. She had never been this turned on. Nothing had ever been this good. They grinded against each other, she could feel his excitement pressing into her. She felt the hunger consume her again and she pushed him back.

He started to apologize even as his dick pointed out, begging for her attention. She fluidly slid to her knees. He gasped and froze in place. His eyes honed into her lips, watching her like she was both the predator and his prey. She licked her lips, never looking away from his eyes more expressive than she had ever seen them.

Beautiful.

The sound of his zipper descending was loud in the room. The only other sound was their pants for air.

“Do you want this?” She finally spoke and he shivered at the sound of her voice. She didn’t make anymore movements, for once patiently waiting for his answer.

She watched the war play across his face and wondered who would win? She busied herself biting at her own lips. His thumb pulled her lip from the grip of her teeth, tilting her face up towards him. “I want this, I know I shouldn’t but....”

She didn’t care about whatever self repressing reason he had. He wanted her. He had showed her before but now he was saying it.

She tugged his worn jeans down, too-soft from years of being worn and washed. His boxers did little to hide his erection. “Wow”

His blushed tinted his face and chest in a pretty red and she smirked up at him.

“You do it” She calmly commanded him and he looked confused, like she had just spoken to him him in English. “You have been holding back for all these years, I want you to do it. Show me what you want”

At his perplexed face she boldly took his penis out through the slit in his boxers and aimed it at her mouth but that was it, he hissed in pleasure. Breath speeding up at just her touch on his heated skin. She stopped and simply opened her mouth, eyes gleaming mischievously. The moment he understood what she meant was a beautiful epiphany.

He made no movement, besides the involuntary one his dick made that caused him to close his eyes in embarrassment. “Stop thinking with your head for once and think with this” She grabbed his dick for emphasis. He thrusted into her hand one, two times but seemed to lose his resolve again.

“He tried to kiss me. He grabbed me by my waist and told me he wanted to give me the world. He said I’m the sexiest woman he has ever seen.”

She watched every muscle in Gang-Tae’s body coil. His eyes which were always the window to his soul, said what the fuck did you say? and then he grabbed her hair.

“He can’t have you. You’re mine. I’m yours. You said it we go hand in hand!

“Then show me I’m yours. Make me forget about everyone but you. Do it!”

She was barely able to finish her sentence before her mouth was full. His taste exploded on her tongue and he was better than all the goods Sang-In had brought her. Once his dick was in her mouth, he was a man on a mission. She opened her mouth wider and let him have fun. He thrusted fast, then slow, then deep, then leaving only the tip.

He’s never done this before. He doesn’t know what he likes.

She let him use her mouth, happy to be the first person to do this with him.

Mine.

He found a rhythm that he seemed to like, deep and slow. She could feel every vein under the thin, hot skin and his precum leaked onto her tongue before she greedily swallowed it. That made his hips hitch forward suddenly and he momentarily slid down her throat. She pulled off slowly. Knowing the picture she made, on her knees with her red stained dick-plump lips. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing, she loved how strong he was.

He devoured her lips. dipping and licking his own taste out of her mouth. She felt them ascending and realized they were going up the stairs. He easily held her weight with one arm and used the other one to push open her bedroom door.

With four large steps, he dropped her on her bed watching her body bounce. His eyes zigzagged all over, seeming unsure of where he wanted to look. She pulled her shirt over her head and heard his gasp and threw her shirt to the side. His eyes settled on her chest, “You’re beautiful” he whispered with revere tinging every words.

She felt herself blushing, shocked that he was able to have that affect on her. He climbed onto the bed with her, using just his fingertips to caress her skin. He touched the top of her breast before moving down to her stomach, but eventually making his way back to her breast. She sat up and leaned forward silently giving him permission and he didn’t need anymore encouragement this time. He unhooked her bra, eyes wide as her breast came into view.

Under his intense gaze, she felt a fleeting desire to cover herself. Before doing the opposite and laying her hands to the side, fully displaying herself to his hungry eyes. He leaned down and kissed her breast, too gently. So she whispered “Harder” and his mouth consumed her nipple and she threw her head back from the blinding pleasure. Behind the buzzing that filled her ears, she could hear him as if he were miles away “so pink, you’re so pink” and she had no idea what he was talking about but she needed him to keep going.

He palmed her breast that wasn’t in his mouth and she reached down to grab his erection, it felt harder than before it that was possible. She twisted at the top gathering the fluid there and using it to ease her way, up and down his length. He bite down on her nipple as she made a corkscrew motion at the top. He ripped her jeans off her body and she hadn’t noticed when exactly he had even unbuttoned her pants.

He slid down her body and she groaned in annoyance at losing her grip on his dick, it was her new favorite toy. So perfect and hard, she couldn’t wait to have it inside her.

“What are you doing?” She panted looking down and seeing him just looking , his jaw was slack and his pupil was wide and she just watched him as he stared at her covered pussy. What seemed like a lifetime later, he pulled her panties down. They were white and lace. She shivered at the puff of hot air that hit her and she felt herself get wetter. He curiously tasted her with a kitten-like lick that made her mind short circuit. He must have liked what he tasted because after the first lick, he spread her open and took a greedy lick the second time.

His strong arms splayed her open to his mercy and he was a quick learner, he quickly dissected that she liked broad licks and extra attention on her clit. This was the best thing that had ever been done to her body. She almost didn’t hear his quiet question, “Can I...Mun- Yeong can I...fuck you?”

She couldn’t believe that he had been able to say the words. She almost wanted to stop and applaud. But she saved her teasing because when she finally opened her eyes he was hovering above her, his penis so hard it was flat on his stomach and it had leaked an idecent amount of precum. Glossy in the pale moonlight. If only she had been a painter instead of an author.

“How do you want me?” She continued to press his comfort level, but she was also genuinely curious. She knew he was a virgin before all this, she wanted anything he wanted. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, before laying down and dragging her on top of him. He blushed up at her but there was a glint of determination in his strong jaw.

“I want to see you. I want to see your eyes when we do it.”

She didn’t answer verbally, choosing instead to grind herself down on him. Slipping across his groin, dragging her wetness over him. Feeling him slip into her folds and shuddering at the heat. She lifted her hips up before finding his hard erection and holding it, ready.

“Wait don’t we need a .....condom?”

She shook her head no. She had been on birth control as soon as it was allowed.

“I want to feel you”

That answer rendered him without words and he gripped her hips in his huge hands, helping her lift up before the world momentarily went white. She knew she should take it slow but as soon as she felt him inside, the beast burst out of the cage. She placed her hands on his broad chest and slammed down onto him, riding him hard. Snapping her body back to bring him deeper in.

He was an absolute mess beneath her, shaking his head no, begging her to slow down while he contrarily met her thrust for thrust and fucked her like the world was ending. She fell on his chest and he immediately wrapped her in his arms and continued to rock up into her velvety, wetness. Panting in her ears.

“You feel so good. So good, please, please”

She knew that he was close from the pistoning of his hips, the sound of their skins smacking filled the room.

“Don’t hold back, fuck me harder. Don’t stop!”

He flipped them over, pressing her arms about her head, she made a mental note that she liked that. Really liked it.

“Say my name, Say I’m yours”

“Gang-Tae, Gang-tae, you’re mine. I’m yours. I...”

No. Not now. But it was enough to push him over the edge and she was so confused on his pleasure that she forgot about herself until she felt his fingers rub her clit in a circle motion and she too stumbled over the deep end.

His body tightened and he pressed deeply inside her, her walls clenching around him.

“Sex feels amazing.”

His sudden admission sent her into a fit of giggles, and soon he was laughing too and he fell on the bed from his laughter. Their laughter boomed in the room, now eerily quiet without their sex sounds.

Zzzzzzzzztttttt

She looked over and saw him looking down at the floor at whatever was vibrating, before leaning over and picking it up.

Her cellphone. It must have fell out of her pocket when he ripped her pants off.

He opened her phone without her permission and they needed to have a talk because only she was allowed to do that.

“It’s that punk. He’s sad you couldn’t make it.” He looked at her with glaring eyes. “I thought you went out with him”

“I lied. I got beef by myself and then came home.”

He looked upset before laughing again. Then he reached over and flicked her on the forehead.

“Ow what the hell!”

“I’m deleting his number” and she rolled over and pressed her naked body against him, not caring about whatever his name is.

She felt his penis plump up after a moment of cuddling him naked, “Stop being so horny, I’m tired now” she whined.

He stroked her back before his hand trailed down to her butt.

“This is all your fault” he answered before dragging her into a languid kiss and rolling on top of her. “You pulled my safety pin, this is the result.”

He exploded all night.

#it's okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #ko moon young #moon gang tae #fanfic #smut #kdrama #iotnbofic #psycho but it's okay fanfiction #filthy gutter trash #send me requests I'm in a giving mood

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uselessvoid20 · 3 years

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SPICY HEADCANONS BECAUSE AGAIN I PROMISED SKSJDJDJ

-Okay so this guy is a switch. Like, one day you could bottom and the next he could bottom. It’s all in how much tobio is talked about or how much iwa-pisses him off.

-He has a slight praise kink, well actually it goes both ways. You absolutely adore being praised and he enjoys praising you.

-His kinks include: being praised, praising, experimentalist, nicknames (sweet and NOT so sweet ones), light BDSM (he’d tie you up but be gentle with you. Unless tobio pissed him off.), he’s also a rope bunny as well. Also has a daddy and choking-

(Pffft my daddy issues are showing, sorry y’all.)

-When you just want to cuddle you drape yourself over his back, breasts forward as you lean over his shoulder and kiss his cheek.

-when he’s in the mood, if you’re doing work he’ll get in between your legs and drag his finger along your clothed slit. If you aren’t doing work he’ll kiss your neck and rub his hands along your thighs.

-if YOURE in the mood on the other hand: if he’s training for volleyball, you’ll send him a pic of you in lingerie or nothing at all. If he’s at home, you’ll straight up sit on his lap and start grinding on his lap with your hands running through his hair.

-Your first time with him was in your first day of college. College parties can get wild (says as I’m a fucking junior in high school 🤠) and shit can happen. You were both drunk and thought it was a good idea to fuck. Luckily you two were sober enough to make sure you did want this. You both woke up at 4AM with raging headaches and nausea (but went for round 2 anyway lmao)

-okay so this man isn’t that big, but he isn’t small either. About 6-6.5in. He’s also very into manscaping so it’s always neat af down there.

-Between giving or receiving: he’s more into giving. He would not be opposed to receiving tho-

(Please keep in mind that I’m an asexual who is also terrified of having sex. This is what I do on a Sunday night at 10.50PM and I’m also a minor 🤠 this is what me and my friends talk about constantly.)

-When you’re waiting for him to come home and you’re not in that teasing mood, you’ll grab your headphones and watch porn. Will you touch yourself? Possibly. It’s up to you tho.

-THIS MAN HAS FUCKING S T A M I N A! Like-y’all can have 7 rounds without him slowing down or being tired. He will accidentally overstimulate you tho so-

WAS I LISTENING TO YAGAMI YATO WHILE WRITING THIS?? YES. YES I FUCKING WAS. AHHHHHH

I’m a taken enby I should NOT have the want to be flirted with by oikawa-

#haikyuu headcanons #tooru oikawa #oikawa headcanons #nsft post #why did i make this

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emeraldbabygirl · 4 years

Text

Competition Part 2

Genre: smut

Warnings/Kink(s): shower sex, baby boy yoonho

Series: part 2

Here’s the link to part 1

You had just had a long day filled with stress and you wanted to enjoy a nice shower when you got home. You were about to turn the water off when you heard a noise. You opened the shower door a little and listened again. You heard footsteps coming closer to the bathroom.

“Babe, where are you?” Yoonho called from the bedroom. Yoonho must’ve just got home. You smiled as he was always so clingy and always asked where you were when he got home.

“I’m in the shower, what’s wrong.” you heard the bathroom door open and saw Yoonho’s figure through the shower door. Yoonho stepped closer trying to see you through the door. “You’re in the shower?” Yoonho asked, a tint of excitement in his voice. “Yes Yoonho. I’ve had a stressful day and I just want to relax-” you were cut off by the Yoonho opening the shower door. Fully clothed Yoonho starred at your wet, naked flesh. Under normal circumstances your were totally alright with Yoonho seeing you naked but when he surprised you like this you felt a bit embarrassed. You quickly covered you breasts and pussy with your hands, your face turning a light pink.

Yoonho chuckled. “Baby, are you shy? Why. I see you naked all the time.” You looked down at his feet for awhile before speaking. “Yes, but usually we’re both naked, and you’ve never walked in on me in the shower before. Yoonho stayed silent for a bit and then began taking his clothes off. “Anyway, um..I was wondering if we could try shower sex?” Yoonho wasn’t usually this blunt with you so you both stood there naked in the bathroom with no noise but the water running. You were shocked. You didn’t think shower sex was Yoonho’s thing. However you had noticed he was getting more brave and adventurous in the bedroom and that made you proud and excited. You stepped aside so Yoonho could join you. Closing the door he turned to you grabbing your hands and holding them at your sides. He smiled. “You’re even more beautiful like this baby.”

“Hyung always says how amazing shower sex is so I thought we could try it. It’s funny because every time he texts me saying he just finished with his girl it’s always on the same day you go out. Hey,” Yoonho chuckled. “You’re not cheating on me with Hosung hyung are you? I’m not mad, I think it’s kind of hot. I get to share the same cum bucket as hyung.” You blushed at Yoonho’s choice of words. He was becoming more and more confident. A million thoughts were going through your mind right now. His voice was so calm about it almost like the thought made him sad, was your boyfriend attracted to Lou? You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were in fact fucking Lou on the side. But it seemed like ever since these two got into competition your sex life with Ayno was finally getting more interesting. You were afraid that if you told him he would be upset and not only would you lose him but Lou would for sure leave you.

Yoonho began leaving kisses up and down your neck. He moved down to suck the wet skin right above your breasts your face turning a darker shade of pink. He moved back up and pulled you into him, him lips meeting yours, his dick laying against your stomach. His hands roamed your body, gripping your ass, finding your breasts, teasing your nipples and running his fingers along your slit. Slowly inserting his digits deep into your cavern. You broke the kiss gasping as you gripped his chest lowering your head against him. “Yoonho, harder.” you whispered. Yoonho chuckled doing what you wanted, his fingers began assaulting your walls, curling to find your g-spot. You leaned against him, each thrust causing you to moan louder. “Fuck, you sound so sexy baby.” He kept going, your juices lubing up your cunt making it easier for Yoonho to slide his fingers in and out. The lewd sounds only causing you to approach your orgasm faster. “Fuck..” you moaned in between thrusts. You were close but you couldn’t gather your words quick enough at the speed Yoonho was pumping. “Fuck me!” you cried out cumming all over Yoonho’s fingers. You legs shook as you tried to hold yourself up. Yoonho held you against him, pulling his finger out of you and bringing them up to your lips.

You were in the middle of licking them clean when Yoonho grunted pulling them out of your mouth and pushed your back against the shower wall. Under the water Yoonho aggressively sucked your skin. Your neck, your lips. your ear lobes, your collarbone and nipples. He slowly dropped to his knees, gripping your ass and kissing up your thighs meeting your lower lips. His tongue licked along your folds, his nose coming into contact with your clit. You arched your back grabbing Yoonho’s hair and held his head against your pussy. His tongue lapped up your juices and he continued to eat you out. His hands spread your legs apart and his fingers entered your pussy again. Gently teasing you with his fingers while aggressively lapping you up with his tongue. You whined bucking your hips into Yoonho’s face, gripping his hair with your fingers. You pulled him away from you seeing his lips and the tip of his nose shining with drops of your sweet essence you moaned. “Fuck me Yoonho.” you demanded. You wanted to see him take you in the shower. You wanted to compare him with Lou. You needed Yoonho to fuck you better than Lou.

Yoonho stood up grinning and picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and slid down on his now fully erect cock. Yoonho pushed your body against another shower wall and thrusted into you. He made eye contact with your breasts as they bounced up and down. He grinned opening his mouth to suck on one of your nipples. You arched your back gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. “Yes baby.” you moaned, enjoying the angle and feeling of his cock stretching your walls.

After you came the second time Yoonho slid you off his cock and set you down making sure that you could hold yourself up on your own. He went back to kissing your lips, softly while holding you against him. Then Yoonho grabbed one of your legs and lifted it up to rest on his arm. He rammed his still erect cock back into you and fucked you for a third time. You held on to Yoonho’s arms and closed your eyes enjoying the movement of his cock thrusting fast in and out of you. You felt your third orgasm coming quickly and you wondered if you could hold yourself up on just one leg long enough for Yoonho to cum in you. “Yoonho I-”

“It’s alright baby you can cum whenever you’re ready.” Your legs were shaking tremendously as your orgasm was so close. “My- Yoonho my legs.” you finally said through shallow breaths. Yoonho could feel your leg tremble as well as your cunt clamp around his cock. He let out a soft whine. “Oh fuck. Baby you’re gonna make me cum.” He said, his thrust slowing down. You whined loudly, your legs shaking, your toes on the foot that was in the air curling. “Cum with me Yoonho, please. Hurry and cum.” Yoonho’s breathing got heavy as he thrusted a few more times into you then pushed his cock balls deep into your cunt and released his seed into you. Your orgasm hit immediately after, your cunt having a vice grip on Yoonho’s cock, your arms wrapped around his neck and you mumbled incoherent words into his ear. Yoonho held you against the shower wall until you came down from your high. He slowly pulled out of you, a mix of both of your cum dripping out of your pussy and down your legs, he set your other legs back down on the shower floor and held you there a little longer til your breathing steadied and you could stand on your own. Your eyes were still a bit hazy but you reacted to his hand cupping the side of your face looking at you with nothing but love.

“You did good princess. I love you.” Yoonho kissed you once more. Having previously only called you ‘baby’ you blushed at his new nickname for you. You smiled as he pulled away from your lips. “We should probably clean up.” Yoonho stated lathering up a bar of soap. Coming out of the shower Yoonho wrapped a towel around his waist and another one around your body. Grabbing a third towel he put it over your head and began drying your hair. He lifted the towel up a bit and leaned down to peck your lips causing you to giggle. “I love you princess.” he whispered just loud enough that you could hear. “I love you too daddy.” you whispered back.

Sorry that it was rushed towards the end, I’ve been working on this part for weeks and I’m rushing to get these fics out. I still have more parts for this series and I have more works in my drafts. I’m slowly getting them done so please be patient if you want to see more from me. Also, if anyone knows how to make a masterlist, I think I might need one so I’d love some info on how to make one.

Also also, I’d just like to say a big ol fuck you to the two bitches who made fun of my last smut. Not only did you embarrass me but you also discouraged me because as someone who’s just started writing smut, I know it’s not going to be good at first so when you basically laugh at me from 72 angles that really made me want to stop writing, not just smut but any fanfics all together. Also one of you really made fun of me because it was a cockwarming smut yet plenty of other people write cockwarming smuts. Plus your username is literally “this person’s” cockwarmer. And unless your blog is completely normal don’t make fun of my entire blog based off the one smut you found of mine.

With that finally being off my chest I’d also like to say thank you everyone whose read and liked my works. I didn’t expect people to like them but I’m glad that they are getting some love. I’m happy knowing that I’m not the only hoe on this site that’s whipped af for VAV lmao. I’m working on fanfics for other groups so it’s not just VAV, even tho y’all love my VAV posts but sometimes my thot brain needs a break from the only men that can make this bussy throb with excitement so the only VAV works I have planned are a Lou smut, a St.Van smut, part 2 of a failed horror fanfic and the rest of this series. Everything else is other groups. I hope you guys will enjoy those as well.

#vav #ayno #noh yoonho #smu #vav smut #ayno smut #noh yoonho smut #kpop smut

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bkdk-n-tasty · 5 years

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So I’m sick and have no energy to do anything but shit post and throw out head cannons. So y’all are in for a treat.

I’m throwing down my hc’s for abo verse cause I’m a needy bitch right now 💜😷 Basically everything in canon is followed asides from the abo factors

only 18+ cause of smut, very vivid smut at the bottom

• Deku like everything else in his life is a late af bloomer. He probably doesn’t present as literally anything till his second year or third year of HS

• Cause he’s always surrounded by alphas and betas he basically smells like a mixture up till he presents

• When he does finally present everything goes sideways

• This most definitely happens during a co-training with class B and of all people he’s training with/against Monoma who is definitely an alpha

• Of course, at the time Monoma is throwing shade at Katsuki, talking shit about the other alpha (who hasn’t asked Deku out yet but they’re on much better terms)

• All of sudden there’s this oddly sickly sweet scent mingled with Izuku’s normal scent, like grass after it’s rained but just a little too sharply of a scent

• Monoma is the first to react; like he talks a big ass game but he’s one of the very weakest at basic instincts and tries to attack the flustered Izuku and tries to claim him ((though he is 100% with Shinsou))

• On the other side of the training field//or whatnot is Katsuki, he’s been anything but focused all day + super agitated but he thinks it’s just pre-rut stuff and puts it to the back of his mind

• As soon as Izuku presents he loses it; like he doesn’t know it mentally but physically he knows it. His body reacts to his omega finally, finally presenting and he blasts his way all the way to Izuku

• He finds his omega being sexually assaulted by another alpha. It doesn’t even register who it is, just that another alpha is touching his omega and that beautifully sweet scent is mingled with the scent of distress

• And we know Katsuki will protect his green bean. He practically grabs Monoma by the scruff of his neck and yeets him right into the shadow realm, throwing in some blast so he gets the point

• with the other alpha gone Izuku is whining and still reeking of distress so Katsuki quickly goes to him, wrapping him up in his arms while scenting him and nosing at the omega’s neck to breathe in the new scent and fuck does it get Katsuki hot and bothered

• With this happening where teachers could see, Katsuki manages to scoop up his docile omega who is nuzzling into his alpha is almost light like a feather compared to his normally dense weight. Idfk where but he vanishes with his omega - probably back home while his parents are @ work

• if Katsuki was thinking he’d try and make a nest for his omega but he isn’t and can’t think about anything asides from the delicious scent the omega is creating. He can’t think past getting his knot inside the omega who was again whining but for a whole different reasons

• instead of being sweet and gentle with his omega he’s rough and drops Izuku on the bed and quickly covers him with his body, pinning him down while kissing Izuku like his life depends on it

• meanwhile Izuku is becoming a wet mess between his thighs and he’s clawing his alpha’s back in a need to get closer to the other. He’s moaning and begging and is an absolute mess and they’re only kissing and dry humping

• Katsuki tears his lips away from Izuku’s and momentarily enjoys the look on Izuku’s face, the way his lips are bruised and for a moment imagines those lips around his throbbing cock but pushes that thought down. Instead, he presses hungry kisses to Izuku’s body as he yanks him free of his uniform

• once he has the omega free from all forms of clothing he enjoys the view of Izuku wiggling on his bed, naked and whining for his cock and fuck that goes straight to his dick

• We all know Katsuki eats the fuck out of his wet omega, manhandles Izuku until he’s nearly folded in half so Katsuki and Izuku could make straight-up eye contact the whole time as well. And this omega is in for a treat as his alpha tongue fucks him right into oblivion

• Izuku is straight up an absolute mess when Katsuki has deemed it enough “foreplay”. The poor boy is moaning and shuddering under all of Katsuki’s touches and sweet praises

• With Izuku all blissed out Katsuki lines himself up and shoves his cock inside of Izuku in one easy thrust. Of course, it burns but it’s a good burn in Izuku’s mind as he’s filled to the brim with his alpha’s thick cock, it’s almost mind-numbing

• Katsuki doesn’t fuck his omega right into oblivion only because he sees those fat tears running down the omega’s soft cheeks and if Katsuki is anything is the god damn best alpha ever. He kisses those tears away as he lets Izuku adjust to his size. He peppers his omega in soft praises for being so good at taking him, that he’s the best omega and is so damn pretty. And Izuku eats it all up and presses his own messy kisses to the alpha and tells him that he’s ready

• Honestly, it takes everything in Katsuki not to fuck the omega’s brains out hearing that he’s ready. Instead, he takes it slow, grinding against Izuku to get him fully adjusted to his size and girth. It’s when Izuku starts to beg that the alpha loses all control and become lost in instincts

• Honestly, Katsuki loses all functional brain cells when he’s balls deep in his omega’s sweet hole. He bites, nips and kisses at Izuku’s scent gland, encouraging that delicious scent to waft out. It just fuels all his lust

• Izuku is begging for Katsuki’s knot, between being delirious from being ate open and getting pounded into the bedsheets he just needed his alpha to claim him and he didn’t need to worry about that

• Katsuki’s knot came faster than he’d like to admit but the taste of his omega, his Izuku left no room to complain. He doesn’t think about it when he shoves his swollen knot inside of Izuku’s clenching hole. His mouth finds Izuku’s gland quickly and as he’s pumping the omega full he breaks the skin and marks Izuku’s scent gland, claiming him as his

• Once claimed Katsuki gently maneuvers Izuku because every movement leaves him gasping because his knot is so sensitive. He moves behind Izuku so he’s carefully spooning him, wrapping his arms protectively over his sweet omega

• Izuku slowly comes to, his hands on his stomach as the small area of soft skin just above his pelvis rounds out from the sheer amount of seed his alpha is pumping inside of him. He snuggles back against his alpha, breathing that spicy Smokey scent he’s only now able to appreciate

• Izuku quietly and meekly asks what they were now, afraid and confused because he’d just presented as an omega and had heard the horror stories about omegas being mated and left pregnant and alone. Katsuki huffs before gently kissing the new mating mark he’d left moments before

• Katsuki of course answers they’re mates, duh. But then elaborates since Izuku couldn’t see his face, telling him that they were lovers, boyfriends, whatever term Izuku wants to use because they were together now, through thick and thin.

• Katsuki preens when Izuku softly hums happily that they were mates. Izuku tugs Katsuki’s hand over his swollen pouch, asking if he thinks they’ll end up pregnant. Katsuki teases that they’ll just mate all day till he’s so full he has to be pregnant

• Katsuki teases but that’s exactly what they do...They literally fuck all day and bless Mitsuki’s heart, she’s the one that finds her son and his mate -still knotted- and nearly faints. Instead, she instead goes back downstairs and notifies the school that she found the boys. She calls Inko and tells her that she found them but doesn’t tell her that they’re mates, no the boys were going to do that...

• and they do later, the next day. Izuku is literally so flustered about it and can’t even sit straight because of how sore his bottom is and everything

• and they end up being parents before they graduate top of their class. They’re the first official alpha/omega duo heroes. Katsuki fights everyone that gets too close to his very pregnant omega except for a few people he feels are safe enough to be that close to

• And tbh from this experience Katsuki and Izuku both find out that they both enjoy seeing Izuku pregnant. Katsuki gets more aroused seeing his omega all swollen and round, he even rubs Izuku’s swollen feet and everything to make up for it too. Izuku eats it all up so he can hide the fact he loves being heavy and all full with his mate’s children

#abo verse #omega izuku #alpha katsuki #they're all sinners here #enjoy my delirious needs #i literally woke up in a cold sweat needing to write this down

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lady-olive-oil · 4 years

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Dog Days Chapter 2

Note: Hey y’all!!! It has been a long as while since i have updated and for that i apologize. Life has taken over and is hectic af right now. But it is here finally, the next installment of Dog Days! Let me know if you wanna be tagged!

Warning: dirty “I miss you public sex>” If ya squint

Word count: 2,467

Taglist: @maddiestundentwritergaines || @dc41896 || @honeychicana || @themyscxiras || @dc41896 || @crushed-pink-petals || @fumbling-fanfics || @champagnesugamama || @bugngiz || @badassbaker || @melinda-january

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Charity events were always a buzz around town. Whether you’re a socialite: a social media influencer, stylist, designer, you name it. Anybody who is anybody, knew about them. This one in particular was one for the ages.The annual Charity Ball of Hope, was more of a gala of sorts but nevertheless one for a good cause. Upon seeing all the glitz and glamour of the posh and pampered, outside of the limo window, It felt like old times all over again.

My dress was anything but simple, yet tasteful floor length royal blue mermaid halter top dress with a gold beading around the chest. My hair was in tight curls all over my head, my make up was kept light and my little rose gold studs pulled the look together. The not so subtle keyhole drew the attention I wanted and even brought in some donations for the organization I was in charge of for the night.

The Los Angeles Angels foundation, for single hard working moms was an organization I started after Vinny died. He left Javi and I something even though he was a terrible person. Looking over at the crowd below me from the balcony, I felt like I owned the place. Which is how I felt at every event regardless.

“Bring back any memories?” A soft yet gentle voice awoken my senses back to reality. I saw Henry approach with a couple flutes of wine and handed one towards me. Graciously accepting the bubbly, we clink our glasses and look back over the crowd.

“I’d say so.” Looking at him from the side, I smirked. “I’ll say Mr. Kent, you clean up nicely if I do say so myself. What are the odds of us matching?”

“Well Miss Calhoun, I’d say 1 in 100. Not too many people can pull off royal blue.” His infamous subtle smile would bring anyone to their knees but for me, I'm used to it so I just smile back and think about how corny we both are to be calling each other by character names.

Fiddling with the rim of my glass, leaning firearms against the railing, I sighed in deep thought. “I still haven’t heard anything back yet about my audition. I hope I get it honestly, it would be a dream of mine to bring a character such as Nubia, to life. Especially for my baby sister Davina, she looks up to me and Morgan a lot. I want this for not just me, but for my sisters.”

Henry had pulled me closer to his side, making it hard for me to not look at him. His soothing blue eyes, with a hint of brown in one of them, made me forget what I was wallowing in pity about.

“You will get this role and be an inspiration to all young women like you, my love. I know that for a fact, you were amazing at your audition. Who else can actually sneer at me while smirking at the same time, while giving a great performance?”

“Oh Henry, you’re just saying that because I’m your friend.” Offering a soft glance at him was short lived, being that he lifted my head up by my chin to look me in the eye.

“I’m not just saying it to say it, Miyah. You’re phenomenal at everything that you do and I wish you’d see that, just as I do.”

His words were true, solid to the core and faithful. Like a quiet day after the rain. No other man had made me feel as loved as he did, and he made sure I knew that. With a gentle nod, I gave in and smiled sweetly.

Placing the empty flute on the serving tray, I sighed happily. “Why don’t we make our rounds and greet people? I’m sure your people are expecting you just as much as my own.”

Taking my hand gently we made our way down the curved staircase, greeting our fellow friends and members we haven’t seen in years. We’ve managed to keep in contact with our mutual friends, mainly for logistics reasons. Nonetheless it’s been a pleasant few years, mainly because they told us what the other was up to. Made us both feel closer in a sense before reconnecting.

I was receiving compliments on my dress that made me feel like a goddess. All I was missing was a sword in the back of my dress, like how Diana had hers in the Wonder Woman movie. Yet with all the pleasantries out there way, awards being given to the charities, I felt an uneasy presence.

Looking around the room, to see if I could spot the person who I could feel in the room. Henry went off to talk to his friends, so that I could venture off and try to schmooze more people. Which was a big mistake in itself, yet strangely enough the feeling wasn’t so frightening. It was warm and inviting.

“My, my. You have outdone yourself Amiyah, long time no see.” The soft crooning voice of a seasoned Italian brought back memories.

“I do try, Marco. I have learned from the very best haven’t I?” Embracing him in a tight hug, I tried to suppress my emotions but it was to no avail. The water works were flooding back.

Marco was like my guardian angel, when Javier and I were living with Vinny. He has been there for her through the whole situation, considering he was his nephew. He knew of Vinny’s motives and habits when he was with me. I practically made him the godfather, which didn’t sit well with Vinny at the time, but he never got a say in how I raised my son because of how he treated me. I haven’t seen Marco in years since Javi and I moved away for good. He is family, and this reunion made all the difference in the end.

“You are glowing my dear, gorgeous. Simply gorgeous as always. How are you and Javier?” Placing a gentle kiss upon my head he chuckled in a joyful tone.

“Thank you Marco, I appreciate it. Time has been good to us lately, since you know.” My voice was caught in my throat a little but I remained content.

“All good things have happened, good to hear. Listen, I'd hate to cut this conversation short my dear, but a few of my colleagues would like to speak with you at some point in time. Whenever is convenient for you, perhaps?”

I knew exactly where this was going. Well partially anyway, but the statement sounded familiar in itself. I always kept my guard up regardless of the situation. Then it clicked, I realized at this moment I would be offered a new opportunity.

I arched a brow in curiosity. “Depends on the colleagues.”

“You remember them, Lorenzo and Matteo. They are all for the main decision at hand.” A gentle smirk was etched on his face.

I knew where this was going. “Well I am free in a few weeks. Have them meet me at Wanda’s on 5th street at noon, on that Wednesday.”

He texted the info to the boys just so they’ll know. “Done and done. We shall see you soon, Lady Amiyah. It was great seeing you again.”

Giving him one last hug, I sighed happily. “You too Marco. Don’t be a stranger now, Javier remembers you vaguely. Stop by the house, I’ll send you the address seeing as though I still have your number.”

“Good to hear, Bella. See you soon and say hi to Henry for me.” Watching him leave with a pep in his step, brought back old memories.

“Will do.” With that I felt at ease and I had to find my saving grace. Like clockwork, Henry found me.

“Everything alright Miyah? Who was that guy you were talking to?”

As I arched my brow again, I could tell that my gentle giant was getting rather jealous. “Henry, are you jealous?”

He feigned a gasp of shock, scrunching up his nose. “Me? Jealous? Never, whatever gave you that idea?”

“Your nose flared before you scrunched it. If you must know, Marco is Javier’s godfather and a very generous donor too.”

“Really? Marco Ricci, as in Vinny Giovanni?” His eyes went wide as he said the names in a hushed tone.

“Yes, the very same. I’m meeting up with him, Lorenzo and Matteo for some meeting in a couple weeks. They wanted to discuss something with me.”

“Why do they want to meet with the Queen ?” Adjusting his tie, I averted his attention towards me to have him look me in the eye. I could tell the power shifted in my favor, with the way he spoke.

“Something about a business proposition, from what I’ve gathered. Everyone wants to meet with the queen, but only a few will do so.” Placing a gentle kiss along his jaw, I saw him visibly shiver in anticipation.

A smirk gradually appeared on my face, as I saw his expression. An idea had appeared in my head once I laced our fingers together and dragged him towards a less crowded area. What a bold move I made to not wear any panties under this dress.

“You seem a little hot and bothered my love. Is everything alright?”

“Not when you’re sweet lips tease me my dear. I can barely concentrate, let alone form a complete sentence. You’re more persuasive than you give yourself credit for.” His breath hitched in his throat as I guided him into the bathroom, locking the door behind us and shoved him against the wall.

Thank god for 6 inch heels because there would be no way, I’d be the same height as Henry. He makes me feel like I can be and do anything, and right now I felt invincible.

“How persuasive am I, Cavill?” I whispered against his ear, pressing a gentle kiss on it then felt his strong hands grip my hips. Next thing I know, he lifts me on top of the counter and kisses my neck with such passion that I couldn’t even muster.

“Extremely. To the point where you have me wanting to do unthinkable things to you right here, right now.” He whispers in my ear, locking my ankles behind him as my fingers carded through his hair.

“Do it Cavill. I want you to, I need you to.” My voice shook with desire and need, I couldn’t take it anymore. I practically ripped his shirt open, he unzipped my dress slowly in a teasing manner.

The way his lips were on mine was like a drug, a need to be filled and replenished. Thankful for me being on the pill because when he sheathed himself inside of me, I felt my whole body freeze as my warm heat gripped him tight. He noticed it because he bit into my neck causing the sensation to heighten.

“Oh Henry..” the want in my voice only stirred him even more into a frenzy as he sped up his movements, causing the back of my head to hit the wall.

“That’s it princess, louder. so everyone knows who you belong to.” His heated lips were whispering sweet nothings in an attempt to console me, but the gears shifted once I placed my lips on his neck

The gentle small gasp that escaped him as my lips glided down the side of his neck before resting at the curve. Your other hand slid lovingly under his button up shirt, and up his side before resting my palm against his exposed chest. A small, shriveled moan escaped his slightly parted lips as his hands gripped the fabric of my dress, that pooled at my hips . I teased my lips against his sensitive skin before obliging him with fervent kisses to the side of his neck. He panted in full ecstasy, broken moans encoring your efforts as I grew more aggressive. We knew there were probably people listening to how loud we were, yet we didn’t care at all.

Pulling his hair to get a better look at his flustered face, I felt a smirk dance across my face. To up the ante, I leaned my hips back and squeezed my kegel muscles as tight as I could around him. The noises he made caused me to let out a few noises myself in pure ecstasy. Dragging my nails down his toned chest caused him to drill into me faster and harder, the grip I had on his hair stayed. Remaining in constant eye contact.

“I know you’re very close to cumming, my love. I can feel you throbbing inside of me. Let go, I want you to come inside of me.” My lips danced against his ear.

The floodgates came rushing through is both, releasing a symphonic moan, clutching each other like a leech. Having him slide out made me feel empty, like I was missing something desperately to fill the void. We helped each get cleaned up and redressed, before making an appearance out to the public. Fluffing out my curls, I saw him fix his hair as well.

“Next time, we should try cock warming because I need you in me at all times.” Licking his bottom lip, I made him shiver again, then I walked away from him to unlock the door.

“You’re gonna be the death of me woman.” He gave my ass a good smack and proceeded to walk ahead of me.

“Just call me kryptonite.” Sending a wink in his general direction, we agreed to meet back at the fountain after the event was over. Some folks definitely heard us because the looks I got were full of jealousy. Which I didn’t care one bit, he’s my man and I do what I want.

Just to end the night off with a bang, my charity received the biggest donation of the night. It only goes up from here for everyone in my circle, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.My good mood shifted once I saw a few strands of blonde hair waving in the distance next to Henry. His boisterous laugh caught my attention more, that is until I saw the face of the blonde in question. Sabrina Daniels, Henry’s old fling from our time apart. One glance at me and she smirked with an evil gleam in her eye, simultaneously touching his arm to spite me.

We may not have publicly announced us being together publicly but, people know we have been spending time together. As god as my witness, if this girl does not stay in her place I will for sure kill her myself without hesitation. Come to think of it, I may have people to do my dirty work now.

#henry x reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x amiyah leon #henry cavill #amiyah leon #Dog Days Ch 2 #Meagan Tandy #Dog Days

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witchqueenofthemoon · 5 years

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BODY AND SOUL Part 15 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: You guessed it, this part took forever and I had to push the second half of Kenzie meeting Annette into the next part because it just turned out really long etc etc!!! There’s an easter egg implication that the weird weed Claire got in Colorado (from a witch but she didn’t know that) can help you remember bits of your past/parallel lives. I’m going to keep making allusions to Kenzie’s ultimate consciousness as a divine being; in the AHS universe she’s a Supreme, in this universe she’s got a low-key version of that energy, a very strong aura, let’s say, one that can encourage the people around her to be better and inspire devotion in them towards her; if Duncan is her Prince, Claire, Samuel and Harris are her Knights of the Round Table. I really wanted to include a scene at some point where Kenzie gets drunk and Duncan takes care of her because relationships in reality are a lot of forgiving each other for gross stuff and taking care of each other in various states of grossness, so I’m glad I could put it in here and I love how it turned out. Duncan getting her a tee shirt from MARIE LAVEAU’S HOUSE OF VOODOO is an obvious nod to Marie/Angela, but also a hint that Duncan and Kenzie might end up in NoLa one of these days. Here’s his Givenchy face cleanser. This is the dress Kenzie wears during the day in this part. Marissa Montague is, you guessed it, a Madison Montgomery/Emma AU, and she will show up again for sure. Erik, Annette’s stylist, is a Dennis O’Hare AU; he’s sort of based loosely on Liz Taylor from HOTEL, but he’s not trans in my universe, he’s a queer gay man. Kenzie will get to tell you all the story of what happened to her at work more clearly in the next part. This is the dress Annette wears for the press conference, and this is the one she wears at Plume. Here’s THE KISS by Klimt, a painting I’ve thought of again and again for Duckenzie. I listened to Etta James’ Stormy Weather a lot for the latter half of this part; the weather around Duncan and Mackenzie is stormy, but they are the eye of the storm, calm and constant. Plume is real and so is the private wine room and the Jefferson looks FANCY AF and not like a place I could afford to stay at (I used this article to write about it since I’ve never actually eaten there and probably never will...apparently a “cheap” dinner there runs you like $300). So far Annette has repeatedly proven to be the most difficult character to write in this AU; this article is a good example as to why Beau Willimon created a particularly complex character with her, and my hat off to him and Diane for creating a very special kind of villain who I also don’t really think is truly evil, specifically because she is capable of love; she loves her son unconditionally, and that is her most redemptive quality, and I am definitely using that to my advantage in this fic. There’ll be sex in the next part, don’t worry! I found out the other day that The Youth of Bacchus is going up for auction at Sotheby’s in May; wish I had the $35 million to buy it, because I’ve become terribly attached to it since I gave it to Duncan in this story. I guess I’ll have to settle for a print, but I really hope it goes to someone who isn’t terrible. If y’all weren’t aware, Billie really does have a beautiful singing voice. Annette softening to Duncan and Kenzie at the end is definitely due partially to Duncan and Kenzie’s combined magicks; being together will strengthen the echoes of their magickal abilities from that other universe. If you’re reading this fic, your comments, asks and reblogs mean everything to me.

“You know what I think?” Claire voice was low, her words drawn out by the weed and good champagne, and she was collapsed onto the vintage fainting couch in the corner, pulling strands of her blonde shag through lazy fingers. She was looking over at where Duncan and Mackenzie lay on his low leather couch, the remnants of takeout scattered over the coffee table, stray chopsticks and fortune cookies and half-empty cartons; Kenzie was folded against him, sleeping silently, her breathing very small and even, her face pressed into the crook of Duncan’s neck, her forehead against his chin, her pleated skirt riding up, her bare leg visible above the knee, thrown over his thigh; her stomach and the sweetness between her legs pressed, achingly, against his hip. Duncan was staring off into space (listening to her breathing, her tiny heartbeat against my side, her softness and her, her, her) in the quiet, the record long since having stopped, the calm night floating around them in the low light. His head was swimming with the weed and alcohol; it really has been a long day. My poor Kenzie.

“What’s that?” Duncan realized Claire had said something, looking over at her in a daze.

“I think you two are sssoulmates. I really do, buddy.” Claire was drunk and stoned; her voice slurred out the word soulmate like she had a lozenge in her mouth. “I think it’s destiny.”

“I didn’t believe in that sort of thing before I met her, honestly.” Duncan felt drunk enough to say what he was thinking; to hell with it, this woman loves Kenzie utterly, she won’t mind. He spoke quietly, not wanting to wake Kenzie, his hand coming up to trail down the wave of golden hair that fell over her shoulder. “But I do now. And I think you’re right.”

“Something about you two,” Claire pointed over at them, sitting up a little, the better to throw her head into the couch pillow. “It’s real intense. Like a bright light a moth flies into. Everyone else is gonna want a piece of it. Be careful there.”

“I will, Claire.”

“I’m just so happy to see her happy like this.” Claire’s face bunched together suddenly; Duncan felt sure she was going to cry, but she seemed to hold it together, sniffing a little and breathing in harshly, bringing a finger up to dab under her eyes. “Kenzie’s my best friend.”

“I promise I will take good care of her, Claire. I give you my word.”

Claire nodded at him; he could see her lip trembling for awhile, then she sat up, pulling her purse, discarded at her feet earlier, onto her lap, taking out a tissue and wiping her nose with it, tucking her hair behind her ears. She stepped over to where Duncan lay trapped under Kenzie’s sleeping form; she shook her head as he went to move up, “Shhhhh, no, don’t wake her,” she said, and leaned down, softly, to hug Duncan around the neck, letting go of him after a moment to stroke Kenzie’s hair. Kenzie murmured indistinctly into Duncan as Claire did this, her lips brushing into his skin, and he shivered. My angel.

“I’m gonna go home. I’ll see you both soon. Kenzie deserves this so much. She’s the most beautiful person, Duncan. The loveliest, the kindest, the bravest. You truly have everything now. Don’t take it for granted, not for a moment.”

“I won’t. I swear, I won’t.”

Claire stared at Kenzie for a moment, and Duncan could see the affection in her gaze; it stopped his heart, made his head swim. Claire would die for her. He knew it, utterly. He felt a fierce affection for Claire in that moment; felt as though they were sworn siblings or fellow crusaders in some just, divine cause. The comradery he felt defied an accurate description, but he knew that he and Claire were bosom companions now in some way; we protect her. We are her devoted ones. Us, and Madeline, and Harris, and Samuel. His head felt foggy, indistinct, faraway, part of some other time or day; “That really was some weed, Claire,” he murmured as she walked away from him, towards the front door.

“Right? The best shit. Sometimes I feel like I’m in another world when I smoke it, especially when I’m alone. Like I’m someone else for a little while. Crazy, but fucking neat. Goodnight, Duncan. Tell Kenzie I said good night, I love her, and I hope everything goes well tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Claire. Really. Thank you.”

Claire nodded a little, her eyes bright again. Then, she left, the big black door swinging shut with a barely audible snap behind her. Duncan could hear her boots retreating down the hall, then nothing.

He tried to move so Kenzie didn’t wake; tried to pick her up a little, straighten her so he could get a grip to carry her to bed, but she stirred more heavily this time, and her eyes fluttered open, still half-asleep. “Baby, what time issit…” “After 11, Kenzie. We should probably go to bed, we have another long day tomorrow.”

“Babyyy…” Kenzie lifted her face up to his, her flushed skin pressing into him, and her mouth came against his; she tasted like bittersweet champagne and weed and she smelled like roses and low sweat, and he ached at the softness of her, but he could sense how drunk and stoned she was; her hand slid down to his crotch, loosely, and her head seemed to loll on her shoulders, and he gently pulled back from her hand at his groin, placing his firm grip below her shoulder blades, holding her up.

“Baby, not tonight, okay? You’re drunk. Kenzie, come on. Kenzie, let’s go to the bathroom.”

Kenzie made a whining noise in the back of her throat, but her eyes fluttered with the residue of the sleep she’d just left and her body wanted her to return to. “I wanna fuck you, baby,” she murmured, and she pouted, and she tried to reach for his belt but her hand slipped down and he caught her before she fell, his large fingers coming up to the side of her jaw, her eyes fluttering at him again, breath shallow.

“I wanna fuck you too, baby, but not when you’re so drunk and sleepy, okay? I love you.” Duncan slid his arm down around her shoulder and the other under her knees; he lifted her up (oh my sweet Kenzie), carrying her slight weight easily, and she turned into his dark gray high-collared shirt, bending her arms into his torso, like she was a child turning into the heat of its mother, as he carried her through the door of the bedroom, towards the bathroom. Duncan set her carefully upright on the cool marble floor; the coldness of it seemed to make her more alert, her head lifting, and Kenzie’s cheeks looked very pale in this light, and her eyes opened with a snap, disoriented, as he held her under her arms.

“I think I might be sick,” she said in a tiny voice, and then Kenzie pushed his arms away with one sharp movement and ran to the toilet, jerking her little head over the bowl, knees buckling, and vomited a stream of vintage Moet and Chinese food into it. Duncan immediately rushed up behind her and gently pulled her long hair out of her eyes, grasping her in a makeshift ponytail with his fist; Kenzie moaned, then another stream of vomit came from her mouth and nose, filling the bathroom with the sharp smells of stomach acid and fizzy champagne and grease.

“Awww, baby,” Duncan murmured, rubbing her back with his other hand, carefully, steady. “Shhhh, baby…” Kenzie let out another little moan that made his heart clench; ugh, my sweet Kenzie, today was too long and too much, I shouldn’t have let her drink so much, but then he wondered if it would have been possible to stop her anyway; this was Kenzie, after all, wildly determined in whatever she did, including drinking most of the second bottle they’d opened herself. Kenzie reached up and flushed the toilet, and he noticed her little arm shaking as she did, her flesh covered in goosebumps. Duncan crouched down behind her, hand still steadily rubbing her back, hand holding her hair carefully to the side, his lips coming up between her shoulder blades, kissing the cotton fabric of her dress.

“Can you get me a tissue, baby,” Kenzie said, her face in the toilet still, and Duncan’s heart ached to hear its shakiness, the shivering edge of tears in her throat. He gently tucked her hair into the collar of her dress to keep it from falling into her eyes again and reached up to where there was always a box of tissues on a shelf built into the wall beside the mirror; his eyes fell over her Golden Pothos, now on top of the toilet tank, where it would live, and he thought of her holding it so tenderly as they went through the backyard earlier that day. Duncan leaned down tenderly and wiped at the corners of Kenzie’s mouth and around her nose with it as he thought of the plant gathered in her arms; she looked at him with an embarrassed expression, gold flecks floating around her corneas, her eyes over-bright. She looked so tiny, crouched over the toilet this way; he longed to gather her up in his arms again and cradle her against him, longed to soothe the pain and discomfort away from her.

“Duncan, I’m sorry,” and a tear fell down her cheek.

“Sorry for what, baby? It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. You think I’ve never had too much to drink?”

“This is gross, though.” Kenzie made a face, wrinkling her nose, and she leaned over the toilet again, spitting the residue of her vomit into the bowl.

Duncan laughed a little, bringing his hand down to the spot between Kenzie’s ear and jaw, using the tissue, folded over, to wipe her mouth again. I love to hold her here, he thought for the thousandth time, my hand fits here like this part of her was made for me to hold her. “Baby. I love you. That means I love the gross things, too. Are you okay? Are you gonna throw up again?”

Kenzie shook her head a little, a shiver running down her back through the tips of Duncan’s fingers. “I think I’m done. Can you get me a tee shirt to wear?” Her eyes were clearer now; less dazed with most of the alcohol out of her body, and there were lines of tiredness under her eyes. “Mmhmm,” Duncan murmured to her, his hand falling down the back of her hair. He went to the walk-in closet to the bottom drawers and pulled out another one of the old graphic tees there; this one said MARIE LAVEAU’S HOUSE OF VOODOO in melting tie-dye letters, with three skulls and a cross, sticks of incense floating on either side of them, a souvenir he’d gotten in New Orleans when he was traveling alone in his early 20’s, after he’d graduated. The road trip had been before his mother had insisted he become a more public face in the company; after his affair with Misha, before he met Evan. Kenzie and I should go somewhere together, he thought, unbuttoning his own clothing and kicking it off so he was wearing only his underwear, unbuckling his black Movado and setting it on the shelf, and soon. We can’t go on a road trip; that option is closed to us now. But we can get away from everything for a week. It would be so wonderful to sleep in with her all day. No dinners with our mothers to worry about, no paps milling around, no press conferences. We have that cabin around Oakland, next to Deep Creek. I should take her there. Maybe after the Gala. She’d love that. We’d be really alone...and I could worship her for days. Mackenzie. Kenzie. Baby. Angel.

As Duncan reentered the bathroom he saw Kenzie had pulled her dress and bra off, leaving them in a pile on the cold marble floor, and was carefully scrubbing her teeth at the sink in just her underwear (pink and made of some kind of silky fabric, and Duncan couldn’t help but look down at her round little ass for a moment with affection, think of his fingers there between her legs in the red dress), her face visibly damp from having washed it a moment before, a little color returning to her cheeks. She glanced up at him through the mirror, clearly still embarrassed. Good fucking job, Kenz, really making the place your own, puking as soon as you move in, her eyes seemed to think at him. Seemed to, or really did? Duncan pushed it away and came up behind her, his hands falling carefully on her bare shoulders, the shirt gripped in his fingers, pressed against her arm. Kenzie rinsed her toothbrush carefully, swishing water in her mouth, and spit into the sink. Then she turned to him, shivering again, and lifted her head up, expectant, in an achingly sweet gesture of trust that made his heart beat faster. Duncan bunched the shirt and pulled it over her little head, her hair sticking to her damp cheek, and Kenzie pulled her arms through the holes, once again too large for her, the long dip of her collarbone visible through the neck.

“Nice shirt, baby,” she whispered. Duncan grinned. “New Orleans is a great place, ever been there?” He reached for his own toothbrush.

“Nope.”

“We’ll go sometime. I think you’d really like it. And the food is amazing.”

Kenzie stared up at him, eyes dark green and chocolate-caramel and too bright, her cheeks still pink with embarrassment as Duncan brushed his own teeth, then reached for the bottle of Givenchy face cleanser he kept on one of the glass shelves to the side of the silver-framed mirror.

“Sorry I puked, baby.” Kenzie’s hand was at her cheek, as if to shield her face. He looked down at her, his heart full of so much terrible tenderness that it made him feel dizzy.

“Kenzie. Kenzie. I love you so much.”

“I’m scared to meet your mother tomorrow.” Kenzie bit her lip, tears threatening the corners of her eyes now. Duncan wanted to dip his face down to her and kiss them away. The thought of Annette being unkind to her filled him with hot, roiling anger. He had no idea himself of how the dinner at Plume would go tomorrow, and his thoughts flashed back to the texts his mother had sent him that day with the bluntness of a bad memory: I see what’s going on with your social media.You continue to deliberately disobey my wishes by flaunting your relationship publicly and it’s a heinous disappointment to me, Duncan. Your lack of respect for me in this matter is staggering. We’re going to have a long chat tomorrow about what is expected of you in your personal affairs going forward. The press conference is at 3 PM and you’re expected to be there. Do not bring her to it. Do not be late for dinner.

But Duncan knew one thing for absolute certain: I love this girl more than anyone I have ever loved, more than anything. And I’m going to make sure Mom understands that for real this time. I’m going to make sure she understands that Kenzie is a permanent part of my life now for as long as she’ll have me. He reached for the towel that hung on a hook beside the glass shelf, patting his face dry with it, then reached for the hand at her cheek, grasping it, pressing his large, long fingers through the empty spaces of her small slender ones.

“Kenzie. I swear. Everything is going to be fine. Let’s go to bed, okay, baby? Let me hold you.”

Kenzie nodded, sniffling (baby, don’t cry, your eyes are like stars drifting out in the universe, I love them so), and Duncan switched the bathroom light off, gently leading her to the bed, pulling her softly down to him and gathering her into his arms the way he’d longed to, her little face pressed between his ribs, her little hands under her chin.

Kenzie fell asleep almost immediately, her breath slowing to a small whisper in the darkness, but Duncan lay there awake for a long time, his hand falling down through her hair, around the curve of her ear, lost in her, thinking back on the past week, thinking back on everything that had happened, every moment that had led to now: seeing her on the balcony among the roses, his heart dumbstruck with immediate wonder and fierce, nearly painful longing (the resounding weight of the Fates settling down on me, I think; Madeline Stone’s daughter falling down from heaven into my arms, how could I be so blessed, how), kissing the stripes at her ankles, the fall of her hair that first night as they fucked, the quartz glittering at her throat, the look in her eyes in his shower the next morning, her revelation over breakfast, Samuel’s adamant words (let your heart be your guide), gazing at her over their dinner at Le Diplomate, the photos taken of them there that had ended up on the website later, his face pressed ardently into her cheek, the way she hovered over him in the bathtub, steam rising, roses all around her, bathed in golden shadows, Annette’s coldness and dismissal, the aching way Kenzie had folded into him, her face tear-stained, her cunt pressed into his mouth, filling him with her need, her body pressed against him, soft as flower petals, her dresses now hanging in his monotone closet, filling it with her essence and her color and her life, her plants on the sill in the kitchen, in their bathroom, beside the bed. He thought of the women in the line at the coffee shop, snapping pictures of them, Kenzie’s quivering but brave voice rising at them defiantly, her hand slipping a $5 bill into the barista’s tip jar, the dinner she’d cooked for him (the best food I’ve ever had because she made it for me, she made it) and the little wine-colored slip dress falling off her shoulder, the look in her eyes as he’d tied her to the bed (this bed, our bed) with his belt, needy and approving and excited and tinged with vulnerability, kindling his desire with a blunt force, the look in her eyes as she’d held the velvet ribbon sitting naked on his desk, the look in her eyes as she’d handed him the plug and told him to fuck her with it, the overwhelming sound of her voice keening into him and rushing him to orgasm as she rode him on the floor, the fall of her hair always drifting in his mind now, the shape and feel of her much smaller body pressed against him, into him, always in his mind, the lost look she’d had after all the paps were at her little apartment today, and the determined look she’d had when she came back out of the bathroom, and in that moment he knew she was going to be brave, he knew she was brave, and loved her so much in that moment he thought his heart would burst, thought of her in the red dress in his lap and his fingers at her clit, thought of her dancing tonight, her beautiful voice (she does have a beautiful voice, her voice singing out here in our home filling it with her gold and I love it so much, I love her voice so much) falling down 30 stories to drift into the night, the shadows on her skin and finally Duncan started to drift away into sleep, thinking of her voice, like a lullaby, his arms holding her close against him...so it’s hard to find someone with that kind of intensity, you touched my hand, I played it cool...and you reached out your hand for me...

------

In the morning it was raining again; June 1st, and summer storms to come with it. Kenzie still had a pale pallor and Duncan had made her a green smoothie with kale with his Vitamix, one she sipped with a measured disgust in the bed, clearly trying to will herself out of her hangover. “I’ll have to figure out how to make the one with chocolate and avocado that you love,” he said, remembering her rambling about Emissary on the sidewalk that day, and Kenzie smiled at him weakly, appreciatively. “Yes, please, baby. But this is okay.” Her face clearly said otherwise, and he leaned down to kiss her softly before pulling a black mock neck shirt over his head, loving the way her expressions always gave away her mood so immediately. I don’t think she could hide any feeling she has about anything from me no matter how hard she tried, he thought, his hand coming down through the tangle of her chestnut hair. And I love her for it. Her earnestness.

Kenzie had moved slow that morning; Duncan gently pushed some vitamins (a B vitamin complex and curcumin) carefully into her hand, which she’d used the last of the smoothie to wash down, and she’d shakily showered (Duncan having finished long before) and dressed (a tulip-sleeved maxi dress with tiny red flowers and a slit up the side, a dress he loved achingly, immediately; today she put on a tiny rose-gold moon necklace, the one he remembered from the summery photo of her he’d left arrow-pierced hearts on on her Instagram), brushing her hair out with a trembling hand in the bathroom mirror as he watched her from the bedroom, glancing up from his phone, trying to be subtle, worrying over her pale face. Duncan looked down at his phone again; Samuel had texted him that he and Harris were waiting in the BMW outside, and that there were a few paps milling around outside as well; that Duncan should tell them when they were heading downstairs so Harris could escort Kenzie to the car. Paps rarely bothered Duncan at the high-rise; the Shepherds simply had too much money, Bill and Annette inclined to leverage cash for privacy, but it seemed Kenzie’s appearance in his life had emboldened some of them beyond past arrangements. Going to have to make some calls about that, he thought, pulling a hand through the side of his hair. There can’t be paps around here, Kenzie needs to feel safe here.

“Are you sure you’re okay, baby?” He asked as she emerged from the bathroom, her expression serious, a little blush on her cheeks today to hide her hangover, reaching down for her black satchel which was leaning against the nightstand on her side of the bed. He came up to her, his hand falling down her hair to her shoulder, along the side of her waist. “Should you stay home from work today? Annette wants to see us at 6, and I have this press conference I have to go to a few hours before that, but maybe you should stay here and sleep.”

“Duncan, I can’t, my article’s going live on the website today and it’s already out with the print edition. Candice is expecting me to come in today.” He watched with tenderness as she pulled his big black Brooks Brothers cardigan on over her dress; all her clothes are here now but she still chose that cardigan, he thought, and wanted to kiss her, but held back. “And I know Ben is gonna bother me about your interview again--I need your email for him, by the way, or I’ll just give you his contact, I guess. I just need to go in for a few hours. I’ll be fine. But, speaking of my article…I meant to say something before…”

Duncan looked at her quietly. Oh no...what’s the article?

Kenzie pushed a shaky hand through her hair, fingers coming down to fiddle with her necklace. “I was at that party to spy.”

Duncan pressed a hand immediately to his chin. I should have realized that. Why would Kenzie be at that party if she works for the Post unless she was covert. If I hadn’t fallen immediately for her, I would have seen that right away. But I did. I did fall for her. I’ve fallen for her completely and now she lives with me and I love her. Fuck.

“I recorded bits of conversations and used them for my article. It’s about underhanded PAC donors for Republican Congressmen. Senator Howell specifically, but a few others.”

“Fuck,” Duncan closed his eyes. “Kenzie. Fuck.” He pressed two fingers into his eyelids, down the bridge of his nose, breathing out heavily. “My mother--my Uncle is trying to get President Underwood to pass a deregulation bill--this is going to interfere--”

Duncan stopped suddenly. This is going to interfere with our objectives, was what he had been about to say. But the layers of Annette Shepherd in that statement had sent a cold chill immediately down his spine. No. I’m not going to do this. I’m not going to scold Kenzie for this. This article was her job, and she’s a journalist, and this is her work, and it must have taken her a fuckload of guts to crash that party, and she didn’t know me yet--and things have changed. The objective for me has changed.

“Baby, when I got the assignment, I didn’t know you yet--” Kenzie had started, her eyes shining, her mouth turned down sadly, but Duncan shook his head harshly and brought his thumb to Kenzie’s lips to stop her words and leaned his head down with fervid immediacy and kissed her, open-mouthed, and he felt her trembling against him soothe and soften as he tasted her, words washing out of him like a tide drifting away from shore. “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter,” he breathed into her between their mouths, pulling away and then coming back with his hands in her hair, pulling her into him by the wool of his cardigan she wore, breathless, “we’re going to get through this and everything will be okay because you’re here with me now and I’m yours and that’s all that matters and the objective changed, fuck, it changed, to hell with all of them.”

Kenzie nodded into him; she didn’t speak, just nodded into him, her face turned up to him, her feet tip-toed to reach him, and she nodded and fell against him, her hands holding his face, her lips whispering a secret language into him that only the two of them could understand.

--------

Kenzie had quickly walked out of the high-rise’s entrance to the BMW, ahead of Duncan before he could stop her. Harris was closely at her side, holding a black umbrella over her head though the rain was light, scanning the perimeter of the sidewalk in front of the high-rise, his large hand pressed carefully into Kenzie’s back. Several of the paps rushed toward her, snapping their cameras, Harris getting in the way to spoil their shots; they noticed Duncan come out behind her and rushed at him next. “Duncan, Duncan, are you two living together?” The man closest to him asked, shoving a round microphone near his cheek, a cameraman with a steadicam behind him with its lens pointed at Duncan. “Are you engaged? Have you spoken with Madeline Stone? What does Annette think of all of this?”

“She thinks you should mind you own fucking business,” Duncan said, curtly, following Kenzie and Harris quickly as the two men chased behind him, still holding out the microphone and camera. “You know you’re not supposed to show up around here, Gary, and if I fucking see you again we’re yanking all of the BPF press credentials from the Gala next week. You can pass that on to Gretchen and whoever else is in league with you from the outlets.” Gary, who had patchy gray hair and beard and a pudgy face and was wearing a leather jacket on top of a polo shirt, stopped when Duncan said this, his face shocked. “Fuck off and don’t come around here again, I’m warning you, this building is off-limits, as if don’t you fucking know that already.” Duncan turned away from him and slid into the backseat of the BMW, slamming the door. Kenzie had a stony expression on her face, but grasped Duncan’s hand tightly when he reached for her, staring down at her phone as if to distract herself. Samuel pulled the BMW away from the curb, soft strains of Ella drifting to the backseat (such conflicting questions ride around in my brain / should I order cyanide or order champagne), and Duncan closed his eyes, trying to let her voice in to calm him down, gripping Kenzie’s hand perhaps too hard; she shook her wrist a little and he softened his hold on her. His blood was boiling, his mind red-hot suddenly, and he felt as though he wanted to tell Samuel to reverse the car and let him out so he could punch the BPF reporter in the jaw. Gary Spencer was known for crossing boundaries regularly; another BPF reporter named Sissy Conners was also known for her propensity to cross police lines and find back entrances, and Duncan wondered absently if it had been her who had found Kenzie trying to leave One Franklin Square through the loading dock entrance a few days ago. As if she had read his mind, Kenzie lifted her phone up to his eyes; Claire had sent her another link, this one with two videos: the first of Kenzie looking startled in the camera and Samuel barking at the cameraman to step back; Sissy’s telltale brightly colored two-piece in the corner of the shot. The second was from yesterday at Kenzie’s apartment; mostly unintelligible shouting, with Kenzie’s head pointed down and Duncan looking angry and annoyed into a camera off to the side of the video.

“Fuck, I fucking hate them,” he breathed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “They’re fucking relentless. I’m sorry, Kenzie.”

“It’s not your fault. I know I need to get used to this.”

“I just wish it wasn’t like this. I hate seeing them rush at you like that. It pisses me off and I can’t fucking think straight.”

Kenzie was staring down at her phone again, though, her thumb sliding back and forth against his palm, and smiling. “What are you smiling about,” he said, tell me, fingers hooking around the edge of the cardigan, pulling her mouth against him again. The anger was dissolving out of him now, her proximity able to calm him with a supernatural ease; her gold, seeping into me, like soothing medicine, like wildflower honey.

“Just Instagram. The comments on these photos you took of me. People are flipping out, but it’s kind of...funny. Some are nice, too.” Duncan looked down at her phone; she had brought up the picture he took of her yesterday on the way home, her eyes closed, her expression sleepy, with the sunlight falling over her cheek. Sleepy angel. It had over 275,000 likes now. Duncan pulled her phone gently out of her hand; Kenzie let him, the smile still playing around the corners of her mouth (light pink lipstain, like a little candy). He scrolled down.

She really is an angel isn’t she followed by six heart-eye emojis. Yes, she fucking is, he thought.

She doesn’t deserve you dump her

They’re getting married I’m calling it!!!

Seriously this couple is the ultimate OTP, amennnnnn

LEGENDARY MADELINE STONE HAS A LEGENDARY DAUGHTER TURNING THAT RICH BOY ASS TO JELLY I LOVE QUEENS

I give this two weeks y’all

STILL WANT YOU TO BE WITH @marissamontague I WON’T GIVE UP

A long line of crying-face emojis

She’s a gold digger

SHE’S WEARING THE NECKLACE AGAIN ASKADFLASKGHSGKHSA

She is like a little peach, I am so in love with their love

Omg I bet she’s going to the Gala with him and I will not survive those photos

A long line of yellow heart and celestial sun emojis

Kenzie looked at the comments over his shoulder as he scrolled down. “Marissa Montague, like the actress? The one who does romcoms and Lifetime movies?” Kenzie looked at him with a puzzled expression. “There are people who want you to be with her?”

Duncan blushed involuntarily, glancing at her. “Yeah. Her fans are pretty strange. They come to red carpets and try to make me sign photos of her. She and I were running in similar circles for awhile…”

Kenzie squinted at him, and her lips fell in a closed line. “Oh, really.”

“We went on a few dates. She’s...deeply superficial. She usually talked about her endorsement deals.”

Kenzie narrowed her eyes even further, half-facetiously pulling her hand out of his. “Oh. A few.”

“Baby, don’t,” Duncan reached for her and pressed his lips into her neck. Kenzie sat stiffly for a moment, then leaned into his mouth, giggling. “That tickles, I’m gonna unleash these puppies on you.” She wiggled her fingers into his throat and he jumped back, laughing. He slipped her phone back into her lap, his hand resting on her thigh. “It didn’t fucking mean anything. It was years ago. I had a lot of meaningless relationships for a long time. Now it seems like it was in another life.”

“Oh, you’re so important, so many sordid love affairs--”

“Kenzie…” Duncan pressed into her again, hand falling up her hip, biting gently down on her right ear lobe, breathing into her neck. “I love you.” She pulled his face up into hers and Duncan’s nerves simmered into low fire; “I love you too, baby,” she whispered into him. “And you’re mine, aren’t you, baby--” “Yes, yes, Kenzie, fuck yes, I’m all yours--”

The memory of Duncan’s anger became a distant pinprick of light in his mind as Kenzie’s hands fell through his hair, his lifting up to cup her breasts through the fabric of the dress, pushing the cardigan from her shoulders so he could feel the bare skin of her arms; the rain fell against the windows and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the blood rushing through his limbs, into his groin, as her tongue fell against his and the sweet smell of roses and vetiver filled his nose and his senses and it felt like the sun was out and warm on his skin, rain be damned.

------

The paps were out in full force again; Duncan turned to look over his shoulder as Samuel pulled up to One Franklin Square, out of Kenzie’s languid embrace (his lips had been on her neck again and she was threading her fingers through his hair), and saw them milling around towards the entrance. None of them seemed to have noticed the BMW yet, though.

“Samuel and I will be back to pick you up around 4:30 so we can go home and change for dinner, okay?” He turned back to Kenzie, whose eyes were bright, staring at him with pent desire from his kisses. Her hangover seemed to have dissipated in the car ride; maybe it was the green smoothie and the vitamins, maybe it was something else, he thought, pressing his lips against hers again, his hand falling down her golden-chestnut hair one more time. The partition floated down and Duncan willed it to go back up; not yet, he begged internally. Just a little bit longer, her hair and her body under my hands, I just want to look at her in this dress with its tiny red flowers, look at the gold moon around her throat, the curve of her collarbones, her smiling at me this way, her cheeks with that glow, her mouth swollen with my kisses. “I’ll email Ben Wilder today about the interview. And everything is gonna be fine, baby. I promise.”

“Okay.” Harris was already coming around the passenger side of Kenzie’s door, his sharp eyes scanning the doorway, counting the number of paps; he pulled the door open and said “Miss Mackenzie, time to go,” and Kenzie kissed Duncan with a small desperation again, and then she slipped away from him and he felt that ache, the one that always accompanied her leaving now, the feeling that a piece of him was ripped away and there was a hole, gaping, an open wound smarting in the air. He watched, eyes taking on that stormy shade (though he couldn’t see it himself), as Harris carefully pressed a hand into her back to shield her, and several paps noticed her coming toward the entrance now, rushing up to her. He couldn’t make out their words from the half-distance, now, but there were camera flashes and he watched a microphone come under her and she turned away from it, her golden hair bouncing behind her in the gray light (the rain had stopped a few minutes before and the ground was shiny with water, the sky still overcast), clutching the strap of her satchel closer against her, Harris coming between them, covering her with an expert precision, and he could vaguely hear more questions being shouted at her though he couldn’t make them out, and then she was inside and the paps were standing against the windows, cameras still clicking, peering after her, some of them turning around to snap photos of the BMW as Samuel hit the gas pedal and the car drifted away. Duncan continued to look back, his hand coming up to his chin, against his mouth. She’s so brave. My Kenzie. She’s so brave and so strong and she’s doing so well and I love her so much, I love how brave she is, how fearless, the proud look that comes into her eyes, the way she lifts her chin and pushes forward. Mom is going to pitch a fit to me about that article, but that was so brave of her, she could have gotten into so much hot water there if she got caught, my girlfriend is a stone cold badass and I’m not sure I’m good enough for her.

As if on cue, Duncan’s phone chimed out a text. Mom.

That article is in DIRECT opposition to our objectives. Did you know she was writing that?

No, Duncan replied, curtly. I did not know until this morning when she told me it was being published today. She got the assignment before we met.

Mom: We will talk about this when you get here. Nothing else.

“How are you these days, Mr. Shepherd?” Samuel’s voice floated back to him, soothing, soft, the music turned low.

“Wildly in love, thanks, Samuel,” Duncan smiled at him with a burst of genuine feeling. “But Kenzie’s meeting Annette tonight and I’m....concerned. About how she’ll be treated. And my temper. Which I’ve already lost once today.”

“Your love for each other will overcome any obstacle. If you will it, it will become reality. It will soften the heart of even Annette Shepherd when she sees it, who also loves you very much, of that I am certain.”

“Thank you, Samuel. Can we stop at English Rose Garden before we get to Shepherd Hall, please? I want to get something for Kenzie.”

“Certainly, Mr. Shepherd.”

--------

There was a bouquet of a dozen dark red roses wrapped carefully in black tissue paper beside Duncan in the backseat of the BMW when they pulled up to Shepherd Hall; the inner lining of the tissue had a layer of very thin plastic wrap and several wet cloths around the bottom of the stems to keep them from wilting. Duncan grasped them carefully where the stems gathered, stepping out of the car and passing them carefully to Samuel in the front seat, the better to keep an eye on them; Duncan imagined coming into Shepherd Hall with a bouquet of roses that wasn’t for his mother and the cold look of disbelief in her eyes. Shouldn’t press my luck today, things are going to be bad enough already. He nodded to Samuel gratefully and straightened, looking towards the entrance; there was plenty of press milling around it, but most of them were clearly associated press with clearly labeled passes around their necks, going in and out of Shepherd Hall, waiting for the press conference to start. Duncan wondered absently why his mother had demanded he be there at all, it was, after all, just a dedication for the new Dance Center; just to exert her will over me, I think, show her she can still make me do what she wants and to get back at me for posting photos of Kenzie. Get used to it, Mom. There’s lots more to come.

...So much for not pressing my luck, he scolded himself.

He adjusted the collar and cuffs of his mock neck shirt, discarding the light jacket he wore, opening the door to the backseat of the BMW again and tossing it onto the leather upholstery; the day was still overcast, but the rain was forecast to be over for now and the air was muggy, misty with hanging moisture and an early-summer breeze. Duncan appreciated the coolness of the breeze through his hair; his skin had started to prickle with an odd sense of foreboding, no doubt kindled by his apprehension at seeing his mother. I wish Kenzie were here now, he thought. I want everyone at this press conference to know who I’m with now, and I want them to know that nothing my mother or my uncle say or do will take her away from me. Duncan was aware Bill had a round of chemo scheduled for today; he didn’t leave the house much anymore regardless, and Duncan only tended to see him when he went there to report about an episode or the app or some other kind of feedback on the enterprises of Shepherd Unlimited. Good thing, too, because if my mother disapproves of Kenzie, Bill probably wants to hire a hitman to take her out by now. Duncan shivered at the thought; not a unlikely as one might hope. Bill almost never communicated with him directly; his uncle used Annette as a mediator between the two of them, having never particularly warmed to Duncan, it seemed, for one reason or another. It was also the reason, Duncan suspected, that Annette was going to push to have Bill sign his Will over to Duncan only when he was too sick, too far gone, to protest. The truth of that gave Duncan an nauseous feeling whenever he contemplated it, but Bill Shepherd was not a particularly nice man, and Duncan didn’t feel as bad about all of it as he might have with someone who hadn’t treated him like he was a nuisance for most of his life. His mother loved him; Bill Shepherd barely tolerated him.

Duncan stepped towards the glass doors of Shepherd Hall; several members of the press milling around that area turned towards him with recognition. Duncan pretended to stare down at his phone; he saw Gretchen Friedrichs approaching him out of the corner of his eye in a tulip-yellow sheath dress, a black-and-white striped blazer and very pointy black Louboutins, their red undersides stark in the gray daylight, her long platinum hair bouncing against her back, her smile too big and too white, a press pass swinging around her neck. Stay calm, Duncan demanded to himself. You already snapped on Gary Spencer, don’t let Gretchen get to you too.

“Duncannnnn,” she purred, and Duncan winced, his eyes narrowing just slightly, his eyes sliding over to her. “My, my, haven’t we been the busy boy.”

“Gretchen,” he said through clenched teeth, walking fast. “I think I recall telling you I wouldn’t be doing anymore interviews for Patriot Watch. Funny, I ran into Gary Spencer morning, as they say, outside of my residence, an area that’s off-limits to all of you, which I’m quite sure he was already aware of...you, of course, wouldn’t know anything about that, I’m sure.”

“What would Gary being doing at your building?” Gretchen said in an obnoxiously high octave, faux-appalled. “He really should know better, shouldn’t he?”

Duncan went up to the door, waving a little at the press members he recognized but ignoring their requests for comments; he went to move inside but Gretchen slipped in ahead of him, “Oh, thanks, Duncan, what a gentleman!” she murmured, flashing her teeth at him again; like a giant cat about to rip a warm animal apart, he thought. He tried to move past her in the carpeted, quiet interior of the foyer; he knew the press conference was in the 120-capacity room downstairs across from the newly minted Shepherd Memorial Theater, which would feature much of the Dance School’s performances, but Gretchen continued to trot beside him in her Louboutins, somehow able to keep pace with him despite his long stride.

“So that article from little Miss Stone in the Post this morning is really something, Duncan,” she said as she trotted along beside him, and he glared at her. Duncan, keep your fucking temper, don’t do it, don’t let her get to you. “Care to comment? Anything to say? Did you know she was going to write such an incendiary indictment of the financial spheres of political process?”

He was silent; she’d tried to bait him with that last bit, and he’d almost replied, but Duncan bit into the side of his cheek to stop himself. Duncan kept his long stride up and Gretchen was falling behind. She barked at him again.

“Isn’t it going to interfere with the Shepherd-funded Future Act?”

“Gretchen, I’m going to say this as kindly and as clearly as I possibly can: Fuck. Off. Right. Now.”

“Or what, Mr. Shepherd?” Gretchen stared at him, her eyes flashing. She stopped her trotting, and Duncan continued away from her, not turning.

“Or I’m going to get her to write something about you.”

“Is that a threat?”

Duncan said nothing and continued to walk away from her, his mind seething.

“See you at the Gala, Duncan.” Duncan glanced back to see Gretchen standing there with her arms crossed, a smirk plastered to her face. “You and that sweet little piece of ass.” Duncan clenched his teeth at that, balling his hand into a fist, grasping the handle of the side-door to the conference room, yanking it open, not looking back at her again. I’ve thrown Kenzie into a pit of vipers, haven’t I. These people will try to get at her any way they can. I have to do everything in my power to be the buffer between them. God, I need to calm the fuck down. Threatening Gretchen Friedrichs is just going to make it worse.

He looked up; he saw Erik sitting nonchalantly in a styling chair in the corner, languidly scrolling through his phone, but Annette was nowhere to be seen, at least, not yet.

“Hey, Erik,” he said, trying to keep his tone even. He pushed what had just transpired with Friedrichs to the back of his mind; time to put on a face for his mother.

“Well, well, well,” Erik glanced up at him without moving his shiny, bald head. He wore a long chiffon lavender-colored scarf around his neck today and had false eyelashes on. His nails were carefully manicured. “The man whose name is on everyone’s lips. Prince Duncan. You should see how pissed off you’ve managed to make your poor mother. Come, sit over here, let’s have a look at you. Photos, you know. Not that you ever need much work, Your skin is looking absolutely radiant. All that good sex, I’m sure.”

Duncan came over to the styling chair, blushing, Erik standing and pushing Duncan down into it, hands immediately coming up to Duncan’s hair; the older man sighed, smiling down at him. “This hair. Forgive me, dear, but having none of my own, I always get a special thrill when I get to touch it.”

“Touch away, Erik. On a scale of 1 to 10, how angry is Annette right now?”

“I’d say 12 is the low estimate.” Erik pushed the pump on a bottle of product that sat on the styling table nearby, a mirror built into the wall behind it, smoothing it between his very clean fingers and pressing it languidly through Duncan’s hair. “She could be at 15, you know how she is. It’s usually hiding until someone says the wrong thing. Which is usually Bill Shepherd’s department. You’re always her golden boy, but gracious me, baby, lately, you are stirring the pot, aren’t you? Instagram, gossip sites, snapping at paparazzi, endless photos. Young love. I’ll tell you right now, I’m in your corner. She’s undoubtedly a little flower. I can’t wait to come up with some confection for her tomorrow.”

“I love her, Erik.”

“Sure you do, pumpkin. Of course.”

Duncan looked down at his phone; a text from Kenzie.

I forgot to give you Ben’s contact before, so here it is. He won’t leave me alone, please email him, thank you for doing this, I love you. Some of those paps tried to get into the building a little while ago but security escorted them back out. Harris is hanging out upstairs with me and everyone loves him! I think Ben is going to steal him. Hope everything is going okay bb. Wanted to text you before the press conference. Can’t wait for today to be over. She’d added an exasperated-face emoji and a red heart at the end. The second text as was a contact bubble: Ben Wilder.

Haven’t seen Mom yet, Duncan replied, --but have been told she’s pretty upset. I will do anything I can to calm her down before tonight. I love you so much, baby. If she says anything unkind to you, please try to let it roll off you. She won’t mean it, because she doesn’t know you yet. I’ll email Ben right now.

Duncan opened his email and addressed it to: [email protected], from: [email protected]. Attn: Ben Wilder, Features Editor, Washington Post. Hey Ben. Mackenzie mentioned that you were interested in an interview. I’m happy to sit down with you sometime next week, provided she is there as well; she can decide whether or not she wants to participate, but I want her to sit in. Tuesday works best for me, but I could make some time on Wednesday afternoon as well. Let me know. Regards, Duncan Shepherd. He hit send and lowered his phone; the door swung to, and Annette Shepherd walked into the room, trailed closely by Seth Grayson.

She turned; her eyes fell on him with a measured, gradual acrimony, her slender, beautiful face falling downwards to a regal discomfort, her perfectly waved hair around her shoulders, framing her striking beauty; he had often thought his mother grew even more beautiful as she aged. As ever, Annette was immaculately dressed; for the press conference she was wearing a Diane von Furstenberg dark cobalt silk wrap dress, with a diamond pattern print across it falling to a earthward slant, and low Stuart Weitzman sand-colored suede pumps. As usual, she had no necklace; only the round diamond studs she wore so often, and a thin band of gold around one wrist.

“Duncan,” she breathed, and Seth retreated to a corner, staring at his phone as though whatever he saw there was wildly engrossing.

“Mom.”

“Do you realize how damaging that article could be?” Annette advanced on him, her fingers coming together in front of her in a fist; Duncan stayed in the styling chair, trying not to react. “The bill likely wouldn’t go through at this juncture, regardless, but now? Claire Underwood frankly refuses to sign it, and she’s going to push Gallagher through--Bill could not persuade her to see things as Frank did, confirming our worst fears.”

“Mom.”

“How can this be happening, I keep asking myself. How can my only son, my pride, my joy, be disobeying me and disregarding me so utterly? How can he be saddling himself to the daughter of a woman who would love nothing more than to see my enterprises and my work crumble into dust? How can he?”

“Mom.”

“Let me guess. You love her.”

Duncan said nothing. He stared at his mother; her eyes were cold, shining like twin candle flames in a dark room. He remembered times when she’d been angry with him as a child again; in that gaze he felt minute and impermanent, loveless and discarded. Or he had. Now, he knew that no matter his mother’s anger, she did love him; sometimes she hoarded that love, kept it from him, but he knew it was there. And Kenzie loves me. Even if Mom didn’t love me anymore; even if she cut me off without a penny, even if she pretended she didn’t anymore. Kenzie loves me. She does. And I love her. Loving her is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me; everything we’ve done, Mom, pales dreadfully in comparison.

Erik stood to the side, observing them with his hand pressed to his face, lips pursed. Now, he interjected.

“Annette, surely you must remember what it’s like to be young.”

“Erik, with all due respect, shut the hell up.” Annette glared at him, crossing her arms.

“Whatever I say clearly won’t make you happy,” Duncan said. “But I’m humbly asking that you treat her with respect over dinner tonight, Mom. It would mean a lot to me if you could be kind to her.”

Annette scoffed. “As kind as her article was to our interests, surely. As kind as her mother has been to me on public stages, of course.”

“Since you’ve always been so kind to Madeline, fucking Medusa.”

Annette’s mouth clamped shut at that; she seethed at him, suddenly reminding him of himself a moment ago with Gretchen in the hallway. I am my mother’s son, he thought. We’re both horribly stubborn and we both have bad tempers, and we both refuse to retreat.

“I spoke to her, you know,” she spat, pacing back and forth in front of Duncan, but still staring at him. “As arrogant as ever, as presumptive; as overconfident as I remember her, insisting I can’t “interject in your affairs”--” here, Annette lifted her hands and flexed her index and middle fingers, mimicking a quotation, pausing in her pacing.

“You can’t. Not when it comes to this.”

Annette stared at him; Duncan thought her face would melt, the anger in her eyes as so immediate and intense. She said nothing; her mouth hung open a little, clearly too flabbergasted to reply.

“It’s five after 3,” Seth said, quietly but firmly. “The press conference was supposed to start five minutes ago.”

Annette looked away from Duncan; to Erik for a moment, then into space, her thoughts unreadable. “Get up, Seth.” Grayson lept up. “Duncan. You must contain her. Come.” With this statement, Annette walked across the room and yanked the opposite door open; the door that led to the conference room. Duncan followed her out, his stride pointed, determined to keep his expression neutral and his resolve stony. First, we’ll get through this. Then, we’ll get through tonight.

------

Duncan glanced impatiently at his Movado as the press conference began to wind down; it was almost 4 and he had felt his phone vibrate in his pocket about fifteen minutes ago, in the middle of a long answer from his mother about the scholarships for the Dance School the Foundation was setting up. He began to feel convinced through some unseen sixth sense that the text was from Kenzie, and that it was something important. Annette had managed to hide her annoyance from the press for the duration; it was being taped, and my mother is nothing if not professional, Duncan thought, hand coming up to his jaw to rub there, but when she looked at him over the past hour it was with a dark gaze that made the back of his neck tingle with apprehension. What are you planning, Mom.

“I have a question for Duncan,” Duncan heard someone say; it was Gretchen Friedrichs. Oh no. “Do you plan to have your girlfriend, Mackenzie Stone, on the show soon? It’s ranked second as of now in cable news, and as a journalist for The Washington Post, I think she’d bring a...unique perspective.” Gretchen smiled with all her teeth. “The two of you have been a trending topic on Twitter and Instagram for three days--”

Annette balked visibly and she feigned looking at the clock hanging in the corner of the room, “It looks like we’re out of time for more questions, what a shame,” she said to Gretchen, cutting her off, her smile overwarm. She stood and walked to where Duncan sat, pushing on the long sleeve of his shirt. Get up, Duncan, her hand said. Duncan went to obey her, then for a moment, he couldn’t fathom what to do, his legs seemingly turned to lead; Gretchen was staring at him with that grin, and his mind went hazy with anger.

“Mackenzie is busy with her own projects right now,” he said, and felt the cold pinch of Annette’s fingers digging into the skin of his upper arm. “But eventually I hope for us to work together in a professional capacity, yes.”

The room erupted in voices, other press members shouting their questions out at him across the room (“What does her editorial from this morning indicate for the goals of Shepherd Unlimited?” Will we see a partnership between the Post and Shepherd Unlimited?” “Will she be attending the Gala with you?” “What do you think of her mother’s political statements in the past?”, ‘Annette, does this mean you and Madeline Stone have reconciled?”, “Will you have Madeline Stone on the show?” “Is the implication of leftist politics an indication of the future of Shepherd Unlimited?”); Duncan could feel Annette’s fingers dig in even further, painfully, and he stood, shaking his arm out of the pincer-like grip of his mother’s hand. She stalked after him through the side-door; Seth coming through after them (“no more questions, no more questions,” Duncan heard him say, breathlessly, to the room), half-running, leaning against it with a hard snap as if there were a pack of wolves after him.

“Have you lost your mind?” Annette’s hands came up and grasped at the collar of Duncan’s shirt; Duncan gently pulled her hands away and stepped back from her; she had sputtered out the words as if they were making her sick.

“Mom. I told you. You can’t stop this.”

“Oh, I can’t? What if I pull the plug on the show?”

“You heard Gretchen; it’s got one of the highest viewer ratings on cable news. We both know you won’t do that.”

“What has gotten into you? It’s like you’re possessed,” Annette stared at him, a wild light behind her eyes again; instead of anger, though, he now saw something else there; a kind of panic, a disorientated alarm, and one more thing...a dawning recognition. “What is wrong with you?”

“I have to go pick up Kenzie now. I’ll see you in a few hours for dinner, Mom.”

With that, Duncan turned and walked away from her, not waiting for a reply, through the opposite door, down the carpeted hallway and foyer of Shepherd Hall, skirting around the press members who had begun to file out of the conference room, ignoring their shouts to him; he quickened his pace to a jog, feeling as though he were suddenly suffocating, and pressed through the entrance, running out to the BMW, yanking the back door open, sliding in and slamming it behind him. Samuel glanced back at him in concern as Duncan pulled his phone out of his pocket, breathlessly, staring down at it; a missed call and a text from Kenzie. Her text was odd, like she’d typed it all out without really reading it or pausing.

a man managed to get upstairs past security somehow and harris was in the bathroom and he grabbed me by the arm and tried to drag me into the hallway je was rambling abot Shepherd unlimited taking everything away from him so he was going to take something away from the Shepherds and i’m ok but haris did this thing to him where he hit him in the throat like it was ju jitsu or something i don’t know and the man fell on the ground unconscious the cops are her ad i had to give a statemtn but i’m okay but baby oh my god oh my god

“FUCK.” Duncan felt his anger and panic reach a crashing crescendo that fell over him in a suffocating wave; he suddenly, with a removed anguish that felt almost involuntary, punched the bulletproof, tinted glass of the window, the pain immediate and scattering along his knuckles like it had been smashed in a door, and Duncan winced, biting his lip hard, clutching his palm over the fist his hand was still stuck in. “Fuck! Fuck!”

“Mr. Shepherd, tell me where to go,” Samuel looked back at him with an alarmed expression; it was nearly impossible to break the glass of the BMW’s windows, and Duncan knew his chauffeur wasn’t worried about the car, rather the likelihood that Duncan had broken a bone in his hand. Duncan wasn’t prone to displays of physical anger; what he had just done wasn’t something Samuel had witnessed from the younger man since he was a willful teenager.

“One Franklin Square, Samuel, hurry, someone tried to hurt Kenzie,” Duncan said, and the desperation in his voice was enough to send sharp spears of icy cold fear down into his stomach. Samuel said nothing, only laid his foot flat on the gas, the BMW peeling away from the curb and accelerating rapidly, speeding towards downtown. Duncan felt wildly sick, suddenly, and he willed his stomach to settle, willed his nerves to even, feeling dizzying nausea behind his throat. Oh god, someone tried to hurt Kenzie, his hand clutched to his jaw, his eyes dazed. Oh god, someone--

“Mr. Shepherd, she is brave. I’m sure she is alright. Steel yourself to be brave for her too.”

Duncan sucked his breath in, harshly, heart slamming. “Yes. Okay. Hurry, Samuel, please, just hurry.”

He typed quickly, pressing send. Baby, I’m coming now, I’m so sorry, I was stuck in that stupid fucking press conference, I’m coming, we’ll be there in two minutes...

------

Two minutes and fifty seconds later the BMW screeched up to the curb and Duncan threw the door open, noticing there were still several paps milling around the entrance; he saw red again, felt the seething-hot urge to hit one of them. No, stop thinking about what you want, whatever you think you need. Kenzie needs you, stop being so fucking self-absorbed, he thought. Find her. That’s all that matters.

He ran past them; their shouts to him sounded like they were underwater, his ears blocked by the sound of his heart pounding, and he rushed through the doors, throwing himself at the receptionist’s desk; “Which floor is Mackenzie Stone on,” he asked breathlessly; the receptionist was a young girl with a dark, short bob haircut and navy eyeshadow; her eyes widened in recognition at him, her mouth popping open. “Duncan Shepherd,” she whispered. “Mackenzie. Stone. Which. Floor.” Duncan breathed out each word pointedly, his hand coming around the flat screen of her desktop computer and pressing his index finger at the directory searchbar. She blinked at him again, then said “10, all the resident journalists are on that floor--” and he launched himself away from the desk to where the elevators stretched a yard or so down the foyer. One of the doors slid open as he ran up; oh merciful Fates, thank you; he skirted past the surprised woman who exited, fingers slamming against the 10 button, and she peered around the corner of the elevator doors at him as they slid shut, clearly recognizing him. “Come on, come on, come on,” Duncan muttered as the elevator seemed to climb with excruciating slowness; no one else got in the elevator, though, thank you merciful and benevolent Fates thank you, and finally the doors slid open to the 10th floor.

Duncan’s eyes swung wildly back and forth and laid almost instantly against the back corner where Harris’ distinctly large form sat in an office chair, pulled up against a small desk, behind which the shivering figure of his Kenzie sat, her chestnut hair shaking in the gray day’s light; her hands were clutched around her arms and her face was tear-stained, her eyes closed, eliciting a terrible ache from the center of his body that threatened to burst his heart. He ran out of the elevator and past two women (one white, tall and thin with very long, straight hair, one black and very curvy, with a curly weave) who stared at him with shocked expressions in their eyes, down the short walkway of desks to Kenzie’s; her eyes lifted up to him and her lip trembled, tears falling immediately down her cheeks, sending daggers into his heart again; Kenzie (oh my Kenzie) stood, pushing her desk chair back and launching herself into his arms, an aching sob escaping from her lips as she pressed her face into his black shirt, and he could feel the wetness of her tears soak through to his bare skin. He pushed his face into her head, into her hair, and heard his voice whisper “Shhh, shhh baby, I’m here, I’m so sorry, I’m here now, are you okay, are you alright--” and his hand fell down, feeling her body, trying to find anything wrong, any sign of physical harm; no, she wasn’t hurt, her little body pressing into him, but she was sobbing with a terrible relief that threatened him with tears too, and Duncan bit his lip to stave his own away.

“Mr. Shepherd, I can’t say how sorry I am, I’ve failed you in my duties--” Harris looked up at them, his sepia eyes clouded.

“Harris, no, failed? No. You’re the reason Kenzie is safe. Please. Don’t. Thank you. I can’t thank you enough. Whatever we’re paying you, I’m doubling it. I’m tripling it.”

“Thank you, Harris,” Kenzie whispered, her voice still tinged with a sob and muffled against Duncan’s shirt, her arms twined around him tightly, her body shaking. “Thank you.” Harris stared at her for a moment, his expression one of anguish, of distress; then it softened, and affection seeped into his gaze, and he nodded, blinking, quiet.

“Baby, I’m so sorry, I was in that stupid conference and I couldn’t look at my phone, but I felt my phone vibrate and I had this terrible feeling, this feeling like it was you and something terrible happened, and I’m so sorry I wasn’t here--” Duncan’s mouth was pressed into the side of her hair, and he clutched her with desperate relief, speaking quietly down to her ear. Kenzie shook her head against him, the golden waves making him ache; Duncan buried his fingers in her hair, lifting her little face up to him, thumbs pressing the tears gently away, kissing her softly. “It’s not your fault, baby, I’m just so glad you’re here now, I’m so glad you’re here.” Kenzie pressed her face against him again. “They took the man away--I--I don’t know where they took him…” Duncan cradled her against him, the warm feeling of her little body filling him with terrible, overwhelming emotion; none of them said anything, and eventually Kenzie began to quiet, her sobs fading into hiccups, hiccups fading into deep breaths, and then even ones. The two women Duncan had passed looked back at them, whispering quietly to each other; Duncan tried to ignore them. Kenzie leaned back from him, wiping at her eyes with a little hand, sniffling again. “We need to go to dinner now,” she said, and Duncan tried to protest--”baby, are you okay, are you gonna be okay to do that--” and she cut him off. “I need to meet Annette. I’m not waiting anymore.”

Duncan looked at Harris for a moment; the larger man nodded slightly, his expression difficult to read, and yet Duncan felt he understood what the man was trying to say, anyway. Do what Kenzie says. She’s in charge. “Okay, Kenzie.” She pushed out of his arms and pressed the sleeves of the black cardigan against her eyes for a moment, dabbing away the residue of her tears, and shut her Macbook, which had been pushed at an odd angle to the side of her desk, sliding it into her satchel carefully. She straightened, reached for a tissue from a box beside a little rustic sun and moon statue on the desk; then, she turned to him, slung her bag over her shoulder, and said “Let’s go.” Harris stood, coming around her to her back, protectively; she threaded her fingers through Duncan’s, and pulled him toward the elevator; Duncan followed obediently, in awe of her. She is the most amazing person I have ever known.

--------

Kenzie had folded herself into Duncan in the backseat on the way back to the penthouse; her little body sighing against him in the crook under his arm, her spot, that place she was torn away from me once, back at the beginning of time, her face, red from crying, her cheeks hot against him, his hand trailing at the soft tulip sleeves over her shoulders, the warm skin of her arm and down to her elbow and back, through the strands of her hair, gentle, rhythmic. Neither of them spoke; Duncan couldn’t bring himself to ask her for more details of what had happened, loathe to bring her to tears again; somehow he knew she would tell him later, tell him everything, when they were alone and holding each other in the darkness of their bedroom, their bed, their secret place that belonged only to them. Duncan considered trying to persuade Kenzie that they should cancel dinner with his mother; but no, he knew, that can’t happen and it won’t, because we have to do this, we have to make my mother understand, Annette needs to understand that no one and nothing can tear us away from each other. Nothing and no one but death itself. It’s long past time she knows; really knows.

Duncan helped Kenzie out of the car and she was quiet now; her breathing slow and even, her eyes gazing at him with a clearer expression, some of her shock having faded; the day was still overcast and it seemed as though it might rain again, darker clouds coming in from the west. He followed her inside to the elevator; Jerry nodded to them, seeming to notice their solemn mood, and Anchaly looked up from his desk, his eyes crinkling at Kenzie’s tear-reddened cheeks. Duncan noticed he still had his copy of Tropic of Cancer, his finger pressed between the pages, near the end; “Human beings make a strange fauna and flora,” he murmured to the older man as they passed. Anchaly raised his eyebrows, and looked back to the book, clearly content in the mystery of the moment. Kenzie slipped inside the elevator and Duncan followed her carefully; she pressed into him as the doors shut, raising her lips up into his, and he held her, tenderly, his mind and heart aching at the thought that she could have been hurt today, something could have happened to her; “I’m so glad you’re okay, baby, Kenzie, I don’t know what I would have done if something happened to you,” he whispered as the elevator climbed, and he glanced to the long mirror inside, where she was now staring at the shape of them pressed together, his lips against the side of her face, and he thought of The Kiss by Klimt again, thought of its gold paint and her gold, her endless gold, bright even in her sadness and her shock, bright in spite of anything that would try to dim her. Kenzie didn’t say anything, but again he felt he could somehow feel the drift of her thoughts: I love you, Duncan, and I will be brave because I love you so much, I love you and I will be brave in the face of my fear because love is stronger and it is more and it is the only thing, I know that now, I will make Annette understand, we’ll make her understand--

Once back in the penthouse, they went quietly to the bedroom, discarding their clothing from the day carelessly; for a moment, Kenzie pressed against him again as they stood in the walk-in closet, in only her bra and underwear, Duncan in only his briefs; she sighed, and he closed his eyes, overwhelmed with the feeling of their bare skin against each other; he longed to draw her mouth into his again, longed to press his fingers down into the sweetness of her clit and soothe her with ecstasy, but he knew that when they fucked again it would need to come from her, it would have to be at her bidding, and he resolved himself to be patient; “I hate that this has been so much to bear for you--” he spoke quietly down into her ear, and she shook it against his mouth, shook her head so her lips brushed against his ribs, making him shiver; “I’d do it a thousand times more to be with you,” she murmured, and he held back the tears he felt warming his senses; his mind ached, and he felt that any words were not enough for how he felt towards her in that moment; “I love you,” he said, quiet, into her ear, and he felt her lips smile into his skin. She pulled away from him, bringing the dress they’d picked out yesterday down from the hanger where they stood in the walk-in closet; he turned, pulling on one of his dozens of pairs of tailored slacks, one of line of a two-dozen black dress shirts that hung on his side (and her side over there, her side with its softness and color and her there); “Baby, zip me up,” he heard her little voice say, and he turned to her hair pulled over her shoulder, the bare nape of her neck facing him, and he pressed his mouth into her there and felt her shiver, his hands coming down around her waist to press at her hips, and he ached for the darkness of their bed, ached for the sweet embrace of night to come. He zipped her up carefully and she turned to him, smiling despite the residue of her tears still lingering, then she went into the bathroom and Duncan buttoned his shirt, watching her back, the little sequined black dress hugging her small frame, her little face in the mirror as she pressed a small compact against her cheeks to hide the redness as he pulled on one of his velvet cocktail blazers, the smell of her drifting around him like a song. Kenzie emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, dark eyeshadow on her eyelids, dark burgundy lipstick at her mouth, the Tiffany moon around her neck again; she lifted her hands to it as she stared at him, and she said “your love, to give me strength.” She had the little black clutch in her hand, the one she had the night they met on that rosy balcony a week ago (only a week, no, it’s been a year, it’s been years, ages, and it’s been no time at all) and pointed black pumps on her small feet; they lifted her about level to his shoulder, and he was struck again by how small she was, even in heels.

Duncan nodded, too overwhelmed again to speak, reaching out for her, gathering her up in his arms. She fingered his Movado, staring down at it. “Time to go, baby,” she said, lifting her face up to him, kissing him softly. Duncan leaned into her; he thought of how he’d run away from his mother this afternoon, defiant and angry, and toward Kenzie, who could have so easily been hurt today, and he turned his face the better to kiss her, relief flooding through him again. He felt her smile into him again; heard her laugh into him, her tears now faded and her skin cool and soft, and the relief rebounded and echoed into the lining of him. Fortune is still smiling. It has protected us all this way, maybe it can even convince my mother. Maybe even that.

-----

Back in the car Duncan handed her the roses he’d bought for her earlier that day; it seemed like it had been years ago when he’d cheerfully picked them out at the florist, dark, deep red and as fresh as if he’d picked them himself. They still looked as lovely as they had when he chose them, thanks to the cool, wet cloths the florists had wrapped around the stems and the top-of-the-line air conditioning in the BMW; thank the Fates, because I forgot about them entirely after Kenzie’s text message, he thought. A radiant smile fell over her face as she took them from him; “Oh, baby, they’re so beautiful,” she murmured, leaning her face up to kiss him again, and he felt relief flood through his body again like dopamine; to see her smile after the sound and feeling of her sobbing into him was like a drug kicking in after excruciating pain. Kenzie held them close in her lap during the ride to the Jefferson, her head leaning softly on his shoulder, her fingers trailing against the silky-soft petals of the flowers, her eyes falling over them again and again; Kenzie seemed to drift away from him for awhile during that car ride (Etta James floating through the speakers tonight; stormy weather, stormy weather...and I just can’t get my poor self together...oh, I’m weary all of the time), and he worried again over the impact her day had had on her; wished they could be alone, fast-forward to later, so she could tell him everything, so he would really know what had happened. As they pulled up to the latticed doorway of the Jefferson, though, Kenzie lifted her head and a studied cautiousness flooded into her eyes. Duncan gazed down at her, struck by it.

“Samuel, please look after my roses, won’t you?” (Harris had gone home for the day; he was officially off the clock until tomorrow morning).

“Miss Mackenzie, of course I will.”

“Thank you. You are so good to me.”

“Miss Mackenzie, please. Of course. You are beloved.”

Kenzie gazed through the partition at Samuel for a moment, and Duncan’s heart felt swollen with the weight of his adoration for her; swollen with the words Samuel had spoken to her. You are beloved. Yes. You are most beloved by me, and those who would keep you and protect you and devote ourselves to you, sweet Kenzie. And I long to be your most devoted.

Duncan helped her out of the car and she passed the roses back to Samuel through the window; a bolt of lightning flashed over them, closely followed by a peal of thunder; rain soon to come. They ran inside as the first drops began to fall, hands tightly clasped, and Duncan was struck by a wild desire to keep running with her; my Kenzie, my dearest one, until the rain drenched them and they could disappear into the night and become new, they could be anonymous again and retreat into a secret hidden place where no one could find them, no one could try to hurt her, no one could be cruel to her, where only beautiful and wonderful things surrounded her, only things devoted to her. The warmth of his thoughts rushed into him and just as quickly rushed away as they entered the foyer of the Jefferson Hotel and moved into the hushed cocoon of Plume, his mother’s favorite; in the past few years Duncan had been here with her over two-dozen times. Once Annette found something she liked, she rarely deviated from it. We are very alike in that way, he thought, squeezing Kenzie’s hand a little. She looked up at him, a nervous smile on her mouth, golden hair falling over her shoulder. The makeup she wore washed away the signs of strain and tiredness he’d seen there earlier, but he knew she still felt those emotions underneath. The dress fit her perfectly, but it almost made her look like someone else; like the version of her Annette would ideally prefer, and that made his heart twinge with discomfort. I know you, Kenzie, I see your gold, and your warmth is so much more than whatever my mother wants. He thought of her flowing black dress with the red flowers today, and wanted to kiss her neck; imagined flowers in her hair again, for the hundredth time, it seemed.

Annette always insisted on dining in the private wine room. It was partitioned from the rest of the dining area by a frosted glass door that hid anything within from prying eyes; usually Duncan felt it was excessive, but tonight, he wanted to keep Kenzie from any further molestation by strangers first and foremost, and was relieved to know they’d be shielded from anyone who might be dining that night. A server (middle-aged with thinning hair and a severe stare) led them carefully to the door, pulling it open for them; his eyes skirted over them with clear recognition, but he said nothing. Duncan turned towards the large wooden table in the center of the room as the server shut the door behind them; and met the cold eyes of Annette Shepherd, cradling her wine glass carefully (Pinot Noir, her preferred beast); they slid off him and zeroed in on Kenzie, like the barrel of a gun at a bullseye. She had changed out of the wrap dress she’d worn for the press conference, and was now in a black sheath dress, tattoo lace cutting away from the black bodice along the neck and arms, extending down to trumpet sleeves at her wrists.

“Mackenzie.”

Duncan’s eyes fell down on her, standing beside him; Kenzie held her clutch in both hands in front of her, against her abdomen; her eyes, gold and tawny green in the low light, staring back at Annette with simmering caution. One of her hands came up to press her fingers along the crescent moon at her throat; Annette’s eyes followed her hand there, and Duncan knew; knew that his mother knew that the necklace was from him. It seemed to kindle some sort of low fire in Annette; she smirked; the smirk he knew so well, far closer to the true incarnation of her mirth than any of her dazzlingly fake smiles on public stages and television. Annette’s real mirth came from a knowledge of her power; how tight her grip on control was. The tighter her grip, the more genuine her mirth.

“Come sit by me, dear.”

Kenzie stepped forward, and Duncan noticed the jut of her chin, the flutter of her eyelids; my brave Kenzie. Kenzie went to the seat on Annette’s left side, pulling the chair out and sitting neatly, keeping her back straight, setting her clutch beside the plate in front of her; she stared down nervously for a moment at the array of forks and spoons around it, then back at Annette, smiling a little; Duncan could see the way she was trying to be sweet, trying to maintain her composure, and it made his chest feel tight. Annette beckoned to Duncan with one perfectly manicured hand; “Duncan, sit over here.” She patted the table on her right side; the seat across from Kenzie, so they’d be facing each other. Duncan bit his lip and considered disobeying for a moment; considered sitting in the seat next to Kenzie. But then he decided against it; it would be better to look at Kenzie’s face, so I know how she’s feeling, he thought. So I know if a moment comes where we need to escape. He came around and sat, looking into Kenzie’s eyes as he did. It’s okay, baby. Everything is going to be okay. I will make sure it is.

“I’ve been so anxious to meet you,” Kenzie said, softly, her eyes leaving Duncan’s and moving into his mother’s; her expression falling a little, one of her little hands coming up to the ends of her hair, seeing the coldness in Annette’s gaze, despite her smile. “I...I’ve wanted to tell you...what a wonderful son you’ve raised. He’s been…”

Kenzie trailed off then, and looked down at her hands. Duncan knew that in that moment she was fighting off tears. Oh my sweet Kenzie, he thought, imagining that he could push his warmth and his energy to her across the table; imagining it was gold and drifting, dust full of calmness and strength and all his love, falling into her, against her, under her skin. Be brave. I love you so.

“I love him.” Duncan could hear the tremor in her voice, but as she said it, it was as if the emotion he wanted to give her; the comfort, the wave of gold; had not only settled into her, but around the table; that it had enveloped the three of them in some sort of invisible cocoon, one that she had pushed out of her being, strengthened by his love and his energy, and made into something greater; something that did not diminish as it was shared, but expounded, resounding like an echo that grew rather than receded. It snatched the breath from his lungs; for a moment, it was as if the air was sucked out of the room. He looked at Kenzie for a moment with wonder--then his gaze fell on his mother, whose expression became unreadable, obtuse, conflicted; Annette said nothing for another long moment, then drank long at her wine glass; she set it down on the table, and brought the napkin on her lap up to her mouth, dabbing carefully. She set the napkin back on her lap and continued to stare at Kenzie; Duncan could see something in her gaze that seemed almost envious, a twinge of jealousy; a kind of longing for something long past and never to be reclaimed. Then it retreated; Annette broke the spell of her judgement, and looked down at her lap, a sigh escaping her lips.

“Mackenzie. My god. You look so much like your mother. When I knew her at school.”

The comment sent a current of shock floating through Duncan’s veins; he knew his mother too well to assume she meant it facetiously or with faux-sweetness. Both Annette and Madeline had been known for their powerful personalities and yes, their beauty, when they had been young. It was one thing to say Kenzie looked like Madeline; it was another to say she looked like the Madeline Annette had once known more intimately. It was true they had never been friends in the strictest sense of the word, but there was a time Annette and Madeline had shared study groups and classes; when they had appraised each other across parties, maybe even shared drunken conversations on late nights. There was a time Madeline and Annette could have been friends, as Madeline had implied herself; Annette had chosen not to accept that friendship, but it wasn’t as if there had never been an inkling of it. No, the truth was, the comment had been a genuine one from Annette; suddenly, the air in the room, coming off Annette like pheromones, had shifted from hostility to a kind of heavy resignation.

Annette turned to Duncan, and he noticed the change in her expression now, too. Her eyes, which had a moment ago been full of coiled inference, were soft with surrender. What had prompted it was unclear to him; but the coldness she had shown him today seemed to dissolve in this moment, and Duncan felt that there would likely never be another chance as fortuitous as this one, somehow, to convince her of the sincerity of his desires.

“Mom. This is my Kenzie. I love her...so very much. Please, give us your blessing. If you would, it would mean the world to me.”

Annette was silent again, for what felt like an eon, her hand coming up to fiddle with one of her diamond earrings, looking away from both of them, as though she had forgotten something important. The waiter opened the frosted glass door; Annette shook her head at him and he retreated, the door shutting with a snap. Kenzie’s eyes (so bright, so beautiful, so full of her essence, her loveliness, her kindness, her goodness) reached across to him as Annette remained this way, and her smile to him was like the flowers bursting into bloom at the true dawn of spring; he felt utterly overcome by her again (and again and again), and wished he could reach her to touch her, anxious to be closer to her.

“If this is really what you...want...Duncan.” Annette’s voice seemed puzzled; her stony composure, usually so resolute, had fractured somehow, abruptly; she seemed lost in the sincerity that drifted between them, seemed to shrink from it, then, with disbelief, Duncan noticed the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

“It is, Mom. It really is.”

She sniffed, drained her wine glass, and looked at Kenzie for another long moment. She did not smile, but she said, quietly, “Very well. I...understand. I see. And because you are my greatest joy, Duncan, I will permit you yours. You...have my blessing. Now. Pour me another glass of wine.”

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drpepperwithcream · 5 years

Text

Headcanons for if certain ships had babies

Hello! It’s your friendly, neighborhood content dealer friend and I wanted to mix three ships with my headcanon goodness and wrap it all up in a nice “little” master post instead of three separate ones. So if y’all wanted some adorable Clouis/Violentine/Marlontine content, here you go :)

(Imagine adults never found them because they are hidden in the woods. Everything is all fine and dandy and all the kids are alive. I’m just dealing providing wholesome content)

Louis

Louis couldn’t stop smiling when Clem brought it up.

He always wanted kids.

Loves the crap out of AJ.

“I’m thinking we name it LJ if it’s a boy, and CJ if it’s a girl.”

“Louis, no.”

“I like the sound of Louis Junior.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Alright fine, I like Louise, too.”

(Shout out to the lovely artist who drew Louis, Clem, and Louise, super cute! I won’t be using Louise, because to me it kinda feels like I’m stealing the name. Again, I adore your work, love!)

Louis gets super cuddly with Clem, like 10 times more cuddly.

Sometimes it annoys her.

Always says she’s glowing, even when she feels like shit.

Found a “teacher of the year mug” and scribbled out “teacher” and wrote “father.“

Louis doesn’t use it, but Clementine does for coffee.

Found a baby carrier and wore it all day to “break it in” and “prepare” for when the baby arrives.

He put Chairles in it.

Also tried to put AJ in it, but almost broke it.

Is 100% prepared with dad jokes and tries them out on AJ and Clem all the time.

AJ laughs

Clementine rolls her eyes.

He likes to hum to Clem and the baby.

Sometimes he’ll tell dad jokes to the baby, mostly when Clem’s asleep so she’s not annoyed with him.

He loves feeling the baby kick.

“The baby kicked me, that means it likes my jokes!”

Is super calm and relaxed throughout the whole pregnancy.

They were both in the piano room late at night and Louis was playing to the baby.

Clementine’s water broke after he finished the song.

Louis went into full panic.

“Shit, Clem, what do we do?! Are you hurt?! Is it coming out now?!”

“Fucking get Ruby, you idiot!”

Louis was panicking so much.

He woke up the entire school.

“Louis, calm the fuck down!” said everyone, mostly Clem.

He hated seeing her in so much pain.

They had a boy.

“How about Louis II?”

“No.”

“Worth a shot.”

“You’re such a dad.”

Louis wanted the name to be music-themed, Clem liked the idea.

They settled on Elliot after Duke Ellington, a famous pianist.

Louis did a history report on Duke Ellington, that's how he knows him.

Middle name is Ed, after her father.

Louis has researched a bunch of current and old music artists before everything because he LOVES music and used to spend his day in the music room reading music books.

Even before the pregnancy, he already had nicknamed AJ “AJ Charles” (Ray Charles)

A few years later, Louis and Clementine are watching AJ and Elliot sleep.

“They’re so quiet when they sleep,” Louis said.

“Yeah, they are. I couldn’t ask for anything more,” she said. They both were exhausted after hours of trying to get them to fall asleep.

“I don’t know, I think one more would be perfect,” Louis said.

Clementine agreed.

Louis, again, was calm during the second pregnancy.

Until her water broke.

Louis didn’t know what to expect the first time around, but now knowing all the bad stuff that could happen, he was freaking out twice as much as last time.

They had a baby girl.

Louis tried for CJ, Clementine II, and Louise.

Clem said no again, wanted to keep the music-themed names and asked Louis about other artists he knew.

Settled on Holly (Billie Holiday, famous jazz singer).

Middle name is Diana, after her mom.

Elliot is more like Clementine, serious and stuff.

Holly is more like Louis, goofy and silly.

The five of them are one, big happy family.

Violet (It’s more story than baby, but still cute)

Clem, Violet, and Ruby were fishing today.

They see that the shack by the stream has been broken into.

They enter the shack and see a very pregnant woman on the bed.

She says that she’s going into labor.

Ruby went back to the school to let the other kids know.

Violet and Clem went to help the woman up and help her back to the school.

Clementine tells the woman to breathe.

Violet is surprised at how calm Clem is.

They get her back to the school.

The kids were all hesitant to bring her in, she’s the first adult they’ve seen in a while.

Clementine told Marlon to keep a lookout for walkers while she gives birth.

Clem and Vi got her inside and brought her to the nurse’s office.

Once they got her to lay down on the bed, her contractions lessen.

“Braxton hicks.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Violet asked.

“I was with a woman who was pregnant when I was younger. She had those, too.” Clementine explained.

The woman said her name was Carmen.

All the kids agree to have Carmen stay and have her baby.

Clementine and Violet were stargazing a couple nights later on the front steps, making up constellations and signs that night all wrapped in a blanket and cuddly.

They kissed.

Heard an “Aw” and turned to see Carmen in the doorway.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to spy, just you both remind me of me and my wife.”

They ended up talking about Carmen’s wife, her baby, constellations, and they felt the baby kick.

Violet couldn’t help but smile.

Clem has never seen her light up like she did.

“It’s cool, right?” Clementine asked.

“It feels like a tiny punch,” Violet said. “I bet it’s going to kick ass when it’s older.”

At the end of the night, Carmen asked for Clementine and Violet to be her baby’s godparents in case she didn’t make it.

They both agreed.

They all hugged, it was a very sweet moment.

Carmen went into labor that morning

Clem and Vi held her hands while she pushed.

Carmen gave birth to a boy.

Carmen soon died afterward.

Clementine nearly got her arm bitten off because they didn’t know she died until she attacked Clem.

Violet used her meat cleaver to kill Carmen

They then looked at each other, realizing that they’re now parents.

Clementine and Violet held each other for a moment, they didn’t talk, they just mourned the death of a new friend and dealing with the feeling of parenthood.

Clementine then went to hold their new baby.

She held him first.

He was sleeping.

Violet went to go inform the others.

When she came back she found Clem humming to the baby.

“Vi, do you want to hold him?”

“Wha-? No- I-”

“Trust me, you’ll like it.”

Clem gave Violet the baby.

Vi couldn’t help but smile seeing it’s cute, little face.

The baby wrapped his tiny hand around Vi’s finger.

Clem presses a kiss against her temple.

“Got any ideas for names?” Vi asked.

“No clue.”

They wanted it to start with “C.“

They settled on Cameron.

They all buried Carmen’s body by the greenhouse.

Cameron was very fussy for the first few weeks.

“Clem, how the hell did you do this with AJ?”

“This is nothing compared to AJ.”

AJ was happy with a little brother.

Violet likes to hum Cameron to sleep.

Clem likes to read to Cameron.

Sometimes Vi and Clem will make up a story to tell Cameron.

Cameron’s face would light up seeing Vi and Clem.

Violet will cut someone’s head off if they threaten Cameron. This usually applies to walkers.

Clem gets called Mom.

Vi gets called Mommy.

Cameron 100% acts like Violet and follows her around.

Clementine thinks it’s hilarious.

Violet was annoyed at first, but eventually found it cute.

Cameron runs to Clem when he’s scared or hurt.

They are a cute lesbian couple raising a cute child.

Marlon (ft. Rosie)

Is 100% prepared and ready in case Rosie somehow got pregnant and had puppies, but isn’t ready for him and Clem to have one.

Flabbergasted when Clem brought it up.

He thought AJ was enough.

He was more concerned if Clem really wanted to do this, he didn’t want to lose her.

Clementine assured him that she’d be fine, but she was a bit scared, too.

Marlon never really thought about kids of his own.

If he ever did have a kid or kids, he had no idea what he’d name them.

Except if it was a girl, then her name would be Hailie.

He likes the name (also because it’s Eminem’s daughter’s name and Paramore is his guilty pleasure).

Dropped the name out of nowhere to get Clem’s thoughts on it.

She loved it.

Marlon becomes extremely protective of Clementine during her pregnancy, especially later in the pregnancy when she starts showing, then really showing.

Rosie gets extra cuddly with Clem because dogs senses are wild af, and it sometimes makes Marlon jealous.

Marlon likes to cuddle with her too, his hand would usually rest on her stomach.

When Clementine asked him about boy names, he thought about his older brother.

His was a troublemaker, much older than him (early high school when he got sent to Ericsons), and tended to be an ass towards him. His brother was furious when their parents sent Marlon to the boarding school and he was the only one who sent Marlon stuff (such as Eminem music).

It felt like he was the only one who cared, but he never came to visit him.

Never said anything about him to Clem. He’d use his brother’s name as a last ditch effort if they couldn’t find one they both liked.

He thought it’d be weird to use his brother’s name in general.

“You should talk to the baby.”

“I should?”

“Yeah, I think it’d want to hear from dad.”

Dad. He liked the sound of that.

“Uh… hi, squirt.”

He felt awkward.

He loved hearing her chuckles though.

He felt the baby kick, mostly when they’d cuddle and his hand rested on her stomach.

He was going to remember that feeling forever.

He asked AJ what he thought the baby was going to be, he said a boy because he wanted a brother.

He liked the idea of having a son.

He looked at Clem and would love to have a baby girl if she grew up to be like her.

She went into labor while he was out hunting with Louis and Aasim.

He came back two hours later to a frantic Willy, telling him that she went into labor.

Clementine called him an asshole when he finally came to her side.

Marlon felt like an ass for not being there.

He felt like his hand was going to break when Clem began pushing.

It was a girl.

While Clem was holding her, Marlon helped clean up.

He asked Ruby to check his hand to make sure it wasn’t broken.

He went back to the room and couldn’t help but smile.

He sat next to her on the bed.

Clementine asked if he wanted to hold her.

He did, but he made her promise to not fall asleep. He was afraid she’d die.

She gave out a tired nod.

Their baby was so small, he was scared he’d break her.

“She’s got so much hair.”

“She does… you’re not allowed to cut her hair.”

Marlon chuckled, he was too happy to be pissed at that comment.

“She looks like a Hailie.”

“I love it.”

“I love both of you.”

Clementine ended up falling asleep from exhaustion.

Marlon asked Ruby twice to make sure Clementine was healthy and well.

He may or may not have shed a tear while holding her in her arms while Clem slept against him.

She was beautiful, just like her mother.

AJ was still happy that he had a baby sister.

When they introduced Hailie to Rosie, Clementine was slightly worried she’d bite her.

Rosie sniffed her face then licked her and she began crying.

Rosie loves to cuddle with the baby.

When Marlon or Clementine needed to do something, they’ll prop Hailie against Rosie and have AJ keep an eye on her so she doesn’t fall.

Rosie will lay down next to the baby when she’s sleeping.

Rosie and Hailie become best friends when she gets older.

Hailie is just like her mom in almost every way.

Especially her being a daddy’s girl.

Asks Marlon to give her a piggyback ride at least five times a day

Pretends to shoot arrows to be like her dad.

Clementine found Marlon practicing his shot with his bow and Hailie next to him pretending to have a bow and pretending to shoot arrows at the target.

Marlon tells her that she gets a bullseye every time.

Clementine thought it was the cutest thing ever.

They’re a bunch of cuties!

Hope you enjoyed! Now savor it!

#twdg s4 #Clementine twdg #twdg clementine #twdg violet #twdg louis #twdg marlon #violentine #clouis #marlontine #twdg rosie #twdg aj #this was fucking long #Enjoy that fresh content

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zankivich · 6 years

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Teacher’s Pet: A College AU Chapter 9

It’s important that y’all know that I’m half way past drunk while posting this and thus cannot be held responsible for spelling and grammatical errors. I hope you like it. Please give the feeds of backs if you’d like.... Enjoy!

Chapter 9

Shawn’s performance quickly took precedence over everything. He was spending sometimes six or seven hours a day in the practice rooms just going over songs and writing and practicing. He would come home late at night and crawl into bed only to toss and turn with a lyric in his head, or a bridge that wasn’t sitting right. It didn’t occur to you that a recital would mean so much until he explained that there was talks of scouts being there this year. It had all come out during a late night cuddle session when his body was refusing to shut down, so you stayed up with him.

“So, there’s potential for you to get discovered at this thing? Like maybe actually do music?” You asked.

He sighed and shrugged his incredibly tense shoulders.

“Yea, I guess so. I mean the internet’s a crazy place. I book shows regularly around here on my own. I’ve got a decent following on soundcloud and youtube. It could… it could become something. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“That’s scary.” You hummed running your fingers through his curls.

He was lying against your chest naked besides his underwear, but his whole body seemed to be locked up with anxiety. He really seemed to need the reassurance.

“It’s what you want though isn’t it?” You asked.

He peered up at you, lifting his head from your chest and staring at you with lost eyes.

“Huh?”

“Like if you could choose right now, to fully dedicate yourself to it, and just go for it. Would you?”

He licked at his lip in thought. “It makes me happy. It’s what I wanna do forever.”

You smiled. “Well then, you’re gonna do it. You’ll be scared shitless right now, and you’ll sit in my bed when you can’t sleep, and you’ll take out all of your frustrations on me sexually, and then you’ll just go out there and do it. Because it’s what you want. And i know that you can do it.”

He peered up at you finally taking a deep breath and seeming to come out of his head for a little bit. His eyes told you just how truly scared and nervous he was, which just meant it mattered to him a lot. You ran your hands up and down his back in a soothing rhythm willing his body to relax as he settled into your body again.

“Will you still love me, even if I fail?” He asked.

“Undoubtedly.”

“Even if I’m broke and have to move in here with you?” He teased smiling for the first time that night.

You grinned. “I’m in crippling debt for probably the rest of my life, but sure until they kick me out, you can be a lump in my sheets.”

“K. I love you.” He mumbled reaching up to kiss your forehead.

You eagerly returned the sentiment.

“I love you too.”

The stress didn’t get all that better, but having his family around seemed to help him cope at least. You could tell that letting them down was something he seemed to worry about often, and there was this really beautiful, but troubling thing about his relationship with his mom. He loved her terribly, that much was obvious, but it seemed like he had very specific goals for his life and that they didn’t align with what she wanted for him. He never talked about it though so you didn’t pry. But it became all the more obvious when she showed up at your office for lunch.

“It took me ages to find this place,” She gasped walking straight into the middle of the room. “I don’t know how these kids do it.”

“Mrs. Mendes!” You exclaimed jumping out of your seat. “H--Hi. Um what are you doing here?”

She smiled holding up a bag. “I brought food. Shawn told me you liked In-N-Out.”

“Shawn told you that, did he?” You smiled reaching for your phone.

Sure enough there was a text stating 9-1-1, here comes mother. You still made a note to kick his ass later.

“Yea, I figured we could spend some time together. Shawn thinks I come off a little intense, and you seem really important to him, so I want to make a good impression.”

You softened at that because you weren’t made of fucking stone, and mother’s loving their son’s was just sweet as all hell.

So, you both sat on the love seat and you did everything in your power not to remember how many times you’d blown Shawn on that very couch but your cheeks still got red anyway. Jesus take the wheel, truly.

“I just wanted to say, because I didn’t get a chance to at lunch the other day, that I think you’re lovely. You’re intelligent and sweet and obviously deeply involved in human rights and what not. Shawn’s never had someone in his life quite like you. And I can tell it’s having a wonderful impact on him.”

You bit anxiously at your burger wondering if it was a Canadian thing to spill every gut and feeling you’d ever had in general conversation, or if it was just a Mendes thing. Maybe it was the whole world, and you were the defect.

You do your best to be honest and sincere because it’s your boyfriend’s mother and you actually don’t want her to hate you.

“I wish you could see the greater impact he’s had on me. I don’t really get around much outside of my department so there’s not a lot of people in my life to notice the difference but...he makes me extremely happy. I--I’ve never felt anything like it before. He’s a special human being and he means a lot to me.” You murmured hands and eyes on your food. “I’ve been so focused on my studies for the past five years that I haven’t really taken the time to enjoy my life. He makes it impossible not to.”

She sniffled and you peered up in horror thinking that she was going to cry. There was definitely something there, but she managed to keep it together.

“Well… that’s just all a mother wants to hear now isn’t it.” She smiled. “Thank you, dear.”

“It’s no problem. I’ve kind of fallen in love with him, so I’ve decided to keep him for a while.” You grinned.

She reached for your hand and gave it a firm squeeze and it felt kind of like acceptance. You ate beside one another for a while in comfortable silence. It wasn’t so bad. She didn’t hate you, and think that you were absolutely wrong for Shawn in every way. At least she wasn’t telling you that anyway. So you felt like things were good. And then she showed you embarrassing pictures of Shawn as a child and they were even better. It was a look, truly.

***

The night of the performance was weird because you couldn’t touch him. It was in the middle of the huge performance hall on campus. There were faculty and students and families everywhere. So, when he left to go backstage it was without a hug or a kiss or anything. (There was definitely pre-performance, celebratory sex; you weren’t a monster after all). You were left to sit between his mother and his little sister waiting for the lights to go down. It was scary to know that everything he’d been working up to since you’d practically met was gonna come out on stage that night. But ultimately performing seemed to be so transformative and therapeutic for him, that you weren’t worried in the slightest.

The beauty of a liberal arts school is the music department was well funded and supported. The students who were performing that night were talented as fuck, and it showed with every person who got up on stage. Curious about what musical producer might be the lucky one to sign your boyfriend, you peered around the room in fascination. Your eyes landed on Roger, the student from your class who was barely passing and seemed to hate Shawn--and anyone who cared about basic human rights--with a passion. He stared right back at you and it sent a chill through your spine. Aaliyah said something about the person performing, drawing your attention back to her, and by the time you looked back to Roger, he was gone.

You didn’t have time to think about uber creep because before you knew it they were introducing Shawn to the stage. He was wearing a floral shirt, because you told him that he looked hot as fuck in them--which he did, and it was french tucked into his jeans. Tan France was doing wonders for his wardrobe and for your sex life. He looked like he belonged up there.

“I’m Shawn Mendes. This first one is called ‘Nervous’.” He smiled.

You noticed that one of his housemates was on stage on the drums with him as they began as they began to play together. He searched through the crowd as he played and sang, a smile lighting up his face when his eyes finally found his family and you. It was another new song that you’d only maybe heard bits and pieces of, but he rocked the hell out of it, quickly coming alive on stage. The people before him had done ballads and orchestra numbers, and very exquisite pieces in terms of style, but Shawn was just playing music that everyone wanted to hear, and you could physically feel the room shift from his presence. It was beautiful to watch.

Warmed up and finely tuned, he slid into his next song with ease. He performed the song from the club after your fight, Like To Be You, and In My Blood. Just as you expected he got lost in the music, and there wasn’t a person in the whole entire room who wasn’t vibing. When he finished, everyone stood and clapped giving your man the standing ovation he deserved. He was perfect and wonderful and deserved all of the praise in the world. If there were people who performed afterwards you didn’t notice because, he was the only thing on your mind.

You: You’re an icon. Everyone loved it. I’m proud af.

Shawn: Thank you. That was insane! I feel like I could do 20 more songs

You: After tonight, I have a feeling you will

Shawn: Sheesh. Come back stage?

You: Are you sweaty and disheveled?

Shawn: Of course

You: Omw

Backstage was a whirlwind, people running around getting ready and practicing in the middle of the hallway. Shawn was standing with his friends, the biggest smile in the world upon his face. When he spotted you, everything else seemed to be forgotten because he was snatching you up in his arms and pressing his lips firmly against yours in front of everyone. You let it slide because this was his night, and you wanted him to have the world and the stars if he asked.

“Are you gonna leave me for all your fangirls when you get signed?” You murmured wrapping your arms around his waist and peering up at his tall form.

He captured your face in his hands and kissed at your nose and lips making a smile appear.

“Never.” He whispered.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, you know that?.” You grinned hugging him closer.

The affection between the two of you must of been stifling because his friends were quickly scoffing and moving away. But, Shawn was sliding his hands up and down your back and giving you these smiles that just fill your heart with warmth. How could you not want all of the PDA in the world with this man.

“I couldn’t have done it without you. You wouldn’t believe the inspiration you’ve given me. Every song I’ve written lately is about you or inspired by you.”

You reached up onto the tips of your toes to kiss him again.

“Good. You can give me writing credits whenever you’re ready.”

He laughed at the sound was absolutely glorious. All the tension in his body had faded and he just looked happy and sweaty and puppy like. That thing that had been pulling you to him since the day that you met only seemed to strengthen as if it was a string that was pulling tighter and tighter. You didn’t want to be anywhere else than right by his side, and you couldn’t believe that everything about him could make you as happy as it did.

When the rest of the performances were over, you both made your way outside to go visit Shawn’s family. It was on the way towards the doors that he got stopped, some guy in a business suit reaching his hand out to him. You stood as far away as was socially acceptable while still being able to hear. Business suit guy gave Shawn a card and clapped him on the back and it seemed like the stars were aligning. You didn’t even get a chance to go freak the fuck out before two other men were doing the same thing. By the time Shawn made his way back to you, his face was glazed over with a look you’d never seen before, and he didn’t seem to have the words.

“Well….What did they say?!” You asked practically bouncing where you stood.

He shook his head still in shock. “Atlantic. Universal. Warner Brothers.”

“They all want to meet with you?”

“Y--yea.”

If Shawn was frozen you were the exact opposite jumping up and down like a wild banshee and screaming in his ear. He didn’t seem to believe that any of it was real, but none of that mattered. There were celebrations to be had dammit.

You dragged him outside where his family was waiting and had to share the news yourself. There was this beautiful moment where they all kind of four way hugged him and he couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t show anything other than complete and total elation. Everything was perfect.

You had made reservations for his favorite restaurant, this steakhouse he took you to for your one month anniversary, and you were in charge of driving the vehicle, with his family in the back seat and Shawn in passenger. He held your hand the whole time, fingers intertwined against the center console while conversing with his family about the show.

When you all got out of the car, he pulled you into his side and kissed at your hair. Affectionate Shawn was the best Shawn.

“I’m so happy, I don’t even know what to do with myself.” He whispered in your ear. “My hands are shaking.”

You took both of his hands in yours and squeezed feeling the tremors in his fingers.

“Just enjoy the moment. You’ll want to remember it later.”

He nodded looking to make sure that his family was far enough ahead before leaning down to your ear.

“When we make love tonight will you let me do that thing that I like?”

You rolled your eyes pushing your boyfriend away from you playfully.

“You’re such a harlot. We’ll see.” Which meant yes. Yes. And maybe once in the bathtub.

At the dinner table they spoke nothing of their love making, but that didn’t stop Shawn from showing you more attention than was even necessary. When he wasn’t leading the conversation he was playing with your fingers or nuzzling his face into your neck like the giant puppy he was. And even when you were all talking as a group, he would specifically make eye contact with you when you spoke, his face all smiles and general cuteness. A lot of it had to do with the incredible amount of stress he’d put himself under the entire week before. Now that it was all over, it was almost like a high. Even if three of the biggest labels in the industry hadn’t approached him, he’d done what he’d set out to do and you had been beside him the whole time.

It was while sitting at the dinner table that your phone started to buzz. You ignored it at first because Aaliyah was telling a particularly funny story of Shawn once attempting to get into Hogwarts by creating a video application that unfortunately could not be sent due to the fictionality of the school. It continued to buzz though by the time they started playfully bickering about who had more embarrassing things to say about the other. You finally took a moment to peer down and check it. It was from an unknown number and there was no text to the messages, so you had to open your phone to see the image.

The first picture was Shawn reaching for you excitedly backstage. The second was you hugging him back and smiling at him. The third was the moment when he kissed you. There were shots of him holding your face in his hands. One of you with your arms wrapped around his waist while he kissed your cheeks. Whoever had taken them was close enough to make it indisputable. It was you and Shawn engaged in clearly non-platonic behaviors.

Your heart dropped to your stomach and the world seemed to take on a different color. Your ears felt stuffed and you couldn’t really hear or focus on anything besides what was in front of you. Someone knew. Someone knew and they had every intention of using it against you. Maybe against Shawn too. It was your greatest fear--besides like drowning and dying unfilled and actual fears. It was the things that had haunted you since the moment you saw him. But when you were with Shawn, he made it impossible to stress or to worry or to not love him with everything in your being. The world felt like it could be conquered when you were together, like it was yours for the taking. This was a huge burst to that bubble because the world wasn’t that way at all, and being together still went against a lot of rules.

“Babe?”

You looked up taking a deep breath as you did, seemingly having forgotten how to breathe as Shawn finally got your attention.

“Sorry. Sorry, uh what?” You mumbled closing your phone.

He raised an eyebrow immediately catching on to the fact that something was astray.

“Everything okay?” He asked. “You kinda blanked out for a sec.”

You looked around the table and noticed that everyone was staring you with varying levels of concern. You tried to smile, hiding the phone deeper between your thighs as if it would make the incriminating evidence go away.

“Yea, no I’m fine. I actually just need to go to the bathroom, so I’ll be right back.”

You moved to get out of your seat, hoping that you could sneak outside and do some investigating when Aaliyah jumped out of her seat.

“Me too. I’ll got with you.”

Dammit.

“Oh. Okay. Sure.” You nodded.

Shawn sent you another look that was inquisitive and nervous, but otherwise let you two go.

Aaliyah was kind of the coolest teenager in the world, and you two had really hit it off during the last couple of days. She seemed to trust you, which was really heartwarming considering she didn’t owe you anything, and she too seemed to pick up on the odd energy that you must have given off at the table.

“You don’t have to be nervous about Shawn or anything.” She explained as you made your way into the bathroom.

“Nervous? What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. I’m just saying, my brother’s never acted this way with any girl before. He’s never introduced a college girlfriend to the family. You’re...important to him. And he’s kind of like an all or nothing sort of guy, so don’t be afraid of him pulling away or anything. The guy’s obviously head over heels.”

It had nothing to do with the situation at hand and yet it still managed to slow your heartbeat. She had no reason to want to comfort you, or to care about the nature of your relationship past making sure her brother was okay. And yet, here she was following you to the bathroom just to make sure you weren’t hyperventilating.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re kind of an icon?” You asked.

She smiled, and it reminded you so much of Shawn it was incredible.

“No, but I like that one. Tell that to my brother, so he knows I’m the best.” She smirked.

“I promise, I will.”

In the bathroom you sent a text to the mystery number to see just what in the hell they wanted.

You: Okay. What do you want?

Creepy asshole: To make you both suffer

You groaned hitting the switch to turn your phone off. There was no point in arguing over text message with some creep who had zero intentions of being rational.

Back at the table, Shawn’s eyes followed you as you sat down. They were soft and worried and it made you wanna cuddle him instantly.

“Everything okay?” He asked, voice lowered so it was only directed at you.

Telling Shawn that someone had caught them backstage would only ruin his night. He’d worked so hard to finally get what he wanted, and an innocent kiss backstage shouldn't ruin that for him. So you chose to keep it to yourself for the time being.

“Yea, I’m okay.” You murmured rubbing your hand reassuringly up and down his arm. “Your sister’s an icon though.”

He raised his eyebrows peering over at Aaliyah who was all smiles and innocence.

“What could you have possibly done to my girlfriend in the span of ten minutes?”

Girlfriend still sent all of the feels straight to your heart. Especially considering girlfriend might be all that you were once they threw you out of your master’s program.

Aaliyah smiled. “I can’t help it that I’m kinder and smarter and more loveable than you bro, it’s just something you’re gonna have to deal with.”

You chuckled and he looked at you with incredulous eyes at the slander his sister was dealing out.

“Babe you recognize you’re supposed to love me more on the basis of principle right? Don’t let my sister trick you. She’s actually a monster.”

Aaliyah stuck her tongue out at him and he returned the sentiment because they were apparently both children despite one being twenty-two years old.

“I’ve got plenty of love to go around.” You promised holding his hand once again.

He hummed intertwining your fingers and kissing your forehead. “And yet somehow I want all of it.”

He was close enough that you could lean your chin on his shoulder and whisper in his ear.

“It’s yours.”

He turned so that your eyes could meet, both of you reveling in the weight of the statement. It was true. He didn’t have to ask for anything because you were already willing to give him everything. And so even though you were terrified of the future and what might happen, it didn’t nothing to affect your love for him. He would always have your heart. There was nothing anyone could do about that.

Taglist:

nevermindmisha

@alltoowhalee13 @glader-groupa-sub8

#Shawn Mendes #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn Mendes Imagine #Shawn Mendes fanic #Shawn Mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x y/n #Shawn mendes x you #Shawn mendes smut #Shawn Mendes au #Shawn Mendes angst #shawn peter raul mendes #Shawn mendes series #Shawn mendes college au

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