#'s part of my let pap say fuck day piece

[didderd-reblogs]

he's... so high

look't this mfer

[makeste]

BnHA 323: “I Don’t Know How to Explain to You That You Should Care About Other People”

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan was all, “Izuku, I’m sorry.” Bakugou Stans were all, “[sobs for a week straight and tearfully awards him the Nobel Prize for character development].” Deku was all, “[faints in Kacchan’s arms].” Iida was all, “[trying to decide if Ochako genuinely tried to kill him a few minutes ago].” Horikoshi was all, “NO TIME FOR HUGS WE MUST GET BACK TO UA.” The civilians holed up at U.A. were all, “WE TOOK A VOTE AND DECIDED THAT WE’RE ALL GOING TO BE JERKS ABOUT THIS AND MAKE A BIG FUSS ABOUT YOU LETTING DEKU BACK INTO THE SCHOOL.” Deku was all “[stands there looking like he expected nothing less and breaking my heart more and more with each passing moment].” Ochako was all, “that does it, looks like I’m gonna have to do something about this... next chapter, that is.”

Today on BnHA: Flashback!Rat Principal is all “I just want you all to know that I spent nine million dollars turning U.A. into a giant Battleship-style grid that can burrow underground and zoom around in a giant subway maze because Horikoshi lacks a grounded understanding of both civil engineering and economics.” Back in the present day, Jeanist is all, “EVERYONE TAKE HEED, MY COMRADES AND I HAVE DEEMED IT EXPEDIENT TO CONVEY THIS AUSPICIOUS YOUTH BACK TO THIS STRONGHOLD. WE ANTICIPATE THAT WE MAY DEPEND UPON YOUR GOODWILL AND ACQUIESCENCE TO THESE TERMS.” The civilians were all, “NO.” Ochako was all, “EMPATHY, MOTHERFUCKERS, DO YOU SPEAK IT?!” The civilians were all, “oh shit.” Anyway so Ochako is a giant badass, but I’m a little worried that she’s going to get struck by lightning. Please come down from there.

so before we start this chapter, I would just like to apologize for having not posted the ch 321 recap yet, and would like to reassure everyone, and especially Iida who is staring at me with Sad Wobbly Guilt Trip Eyes, that I will get to that as soon as I can

OMG FLASHBACK??

yes please Horikoshi please show us more of class 1-A and their Deku intervention strategy jam sessions

oh dear

Iida you are too pure and good for this cruel world. [sprays the U.A. civilians with a water bottle] NO. BAD CIVILIANS! NO OSTRACIZING SCARED AND EXHAUSTED CHILDREN IN THE HOUSE

EXCUSE ME RAT PRINCIPAL WHAT’S WITH THESE MIXED MESSAGES

???

RAT PRINCIPAL: he’s free to return to us at any time!!

ALSO RAT PRINCIPAL: but it’s too risky for him to return to us

?? ??????? ?????????????????????

so now he’s going on about how strong the U.A. Barrier is, and how it’s comparable to the defensive capabilities of Tartarus. this would have sounded a lot more impressive before chapter 297 lol

OH!!!! HELLO, WHAT’S THIS!!!

A TIMELY CALLBACK TO A CERTAIN MYSTERIOUS EVENT WHICH HASN’T BEEN REFERENCED SINCE USJ? [U.A. TRAITOR MUSIC INTENSIFIES]

so now Rat Principal says he upgraded U.A.’s security systems with his own “modifications”, whatever the fuck that means. I mean look, I’ve been saying for a long time now that U.A. is the best place for everyone to hole up, don’t get me wrong. but that was mostly on account of there not being any other practical alternatives. but you’re making it sound like you figured out a way to actually make it Decay-proof or some wild shit like that

-- hold up, DID YOU ADD A FORCE FIELD. DID YOU TRICK THIS SCHOOL OUT WAKANDA-STYLE YOU CRAZY MARSUPIAL. HOLY SHIT. because that would actually be perfect

LMAO

WHAT KIND OF GALAXY BRAIN BULLSHIT. “NAH THERE’S NO NEED FOR A FORCE FIELD, LET’S JUST PUT WHEELS ON IT”

oh okay so the whole campus is basically capable of burrowing itself underground. that’s insane lol I wonder how they pulled that off. probably got poor Cementoss working overtime

blah blah blah so basically the entire campus is split into a grid and each section of the grid is capable of its own independent movement. lol this is just the Merone Base from KHR. you thought no one would notice this casual plagiarism ten years after the fact, but YOU UNDERESTIMATED YOUR AUDIENCE, HORIKOSHI

“joke’s on you imma just lampshade it” WELL ALL RIGHT THEN

“look at me I’m so fucking self-aware” fucking swear to god. I can’t believe this man is my favorite mangaka of all time smdh

“excuse me, I wasn’t finished describing all the rest of this bullshit yet,” Rat Principal breaks in impatiently. “we also added a steel wall all around the underground of the campus that’s 3000 steel plates thick. that’s fifteen fucking meters of solid fucking steel just fyi. and if anyone fucks around with any part of it the defense system will activate immediately! and also all of the plates are independently motorized, whatever the fuck that means!! in conclusion you’re gonna need a fucking tower crane to suspend all of your disbelief by the time I’m through with this paragraph”

“also Shiketsu is almost as reinforced as U.A. but not quite because we still had to make sure we were better.” but of course. and apparently the two schools are connected via a secret tunnel as Hagakure mentioned earlier

LSDKFJLSDKJFLK

“WAIT WHAT” LMAO YOU HEARD HIM, NOW INASA CAN VISIT YOU BOTH IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND TELL YOU ALL ABOUT THE WEIRD DREAM HE HAD. GOD BLESS YOU HORIKOSHI

(ETA: moment of appreciation for Shouto and Katsuki having the same thought at the same time and making Knowing Eye Contact and saying the exact same thing out loud in perfect unison like the best friends they are. what a blessed day.)

so Tokoyami is all “but wait if you engineered all this shit all the way back during the Band arc how did you even know that Tomura’s quirk awakening would become a thing, Horikoshi -- uh, I mean, Principal Nezu”

and Rat Principal is all “lol idk”

“basically I just woke up one morning and was all ‘say, you know what this school really needs? a fifteen-meter-thick underground steel wall, and the ability to break up into little pieces that individually zoom around wherever the fuck they want.’ jesus christ. lol if money and common sense were apparently no obstacle why didn’t you just teleport U.A. to the fucking moon or something. maybe I should shut up before I given him any ideas

dsfaelkjldkjgl

you heard it here first, folks, all of this cost a grand total of nine million U.S. dollars. well technically it cost “more than” nine million dollars. never has that distinction been more important lmao. are we sure this barrier was really made of steel and not cardboard? who the hell sold it to them, Ea-Nasir??

this is my favorite manga series of all time. yes I am ashamed

“in conclusion please do your best to reach Deku-kun” SO WHAT WAS ALL THAT NONSENSE ABOUT IT BEING TOO RISKY THEN. anyway thank you for this super informative and edifying flashback, Horikoshi. I will cherish it always. I don’t even want to read another translation of this absurdity lmao, there’s something special about it just the way it is. pretty sure Horikoshi just had a cracked out fever dream one night and transferred it to the pages of the manga verbatim

anyway so back to the unruly mob

not their finest moment. please excuse me while I cover poor Deku’s ears and give him a good shoosh pap

oh wow the parents are out here too

is Mitsuki trying to hold Inko back?? that’s the last thing this fandom needs right now is more Mitsuki discourse fffwlkjs. and even Jiroudad, scientifically proven to be the best dad in all of BnHA, is just standing there silently looking vaguely unhappy. way to rise to the moment you guys

MONOMA

so this settles it for me that Aizawa is not at UA. I know a lot of people have been wondering about his whereabouts, and if I had to wager a guess it would be that something happened with Shirakumo/Kurogiri. I can’t think of anything else -- even the loss of an eye and a limb -- that would keep him from his kids at a time like this

anyway but this is excellent Monoma content right here though. I love that he apparently adopted Eri after a single interaction with her. also WHERE IS SHINSOU DAMMIT. THE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW

and Kouta’s there too looking like he wants to run over to Deku but Ragdoll won’t let him :/

it’s gotta be pretty upsetting for him to see his hero like this and not having anyone stand up for him. [taps megaphone] IS THIS THING ON. OKAY YEAH IT SEEMS TO BE WORKING. AHEM. PAGING URARAKA OCHAKO. GONNA NEED YOU TO GET OVER HERE ALREADY AND MAKE THAT BIG DRAMATIC SPEECH WHICH YOU ARE CLEARLY DYING TO MAKE. IF YOU DON’T DO IT SOON I’M GONNA HAVE TO STEP IN, AND YOU REALLY DON’T WANT ME TO DO THAT SINCE MY SPEECH WILL NOT BE VERY GOOD OR INSPIRING, AND WILL PROBABLY JUST CONSIST OF “HELLO, YOU ARE ALL STUPID, PLEASE SHUT UP AND GO AWAY”

so now Mic is telling them to calm down. at least someone’s speaking up here, geez

OH MY GOD

MY MAN JEANIST OUT HERE DOING WHAT HE DOES BEST: MAKING EVERYONE FEEL GUILTY AND JUDGED

OH MY GOD HE IS GIVING SUCH A LONG AND BORING SPEECH LMAO IS YOUR STRATEGY TO PUT THEM ALL TO SLEEP OR WHAT

truly in awe of this man’s ability to take messages which could easily be conveyed in ELI5-speak, and stubbornly convert them into incomprehensible language the likes of which you need a graduate degree in order to understand

“hey guys, so originally our plan was to use Deku as bait for the villains, but that didn’t really work and also we realized it was kinda dumb and was probably gonna get him killed, so we brought him back here instead.” was that really so hard, Jeanist. also are we all really just gonna sit back here and watch Jeanist take full credit for Bakugou’s plan just like that lmao

(ETA:

WHERE DID ENDEAVOR GO AND WHO IS THIS DIABOLICAL MASTER OF DISGUISE. lol I genuinely didn’t notice this because I was too busy digging through thesauruses trying to rewrite Jeanist’s speech; many thanks to @class1akids​ for pointing it out and making my day immeasurably better. take it easy there Dick Tracy.)

“anyway so please stop being dicks and let him fucking rest so he can save all your ungrateful asses” what an impassioned and inspiring plea. time to see if the masses will listen to reason

narrator: they did not listen to reason

oh my god finally Ochako is doing something. YEAH OCHAKO WOOOO SHOW THEM HOW IT’S DONE

hmm

this entire chapter is truly and utterly nonsensical to me lol

(ETA: on my second readthrough I’m fucking dying at how she stole the megaphone right out of Mic’s hand lmao. and how Kacchan is all “fuck yeah nothing I appreciate more than some quality fucking larceny.”)

oh I see she was jumping on top of the main building so as to scream down at them all more impressively

“ANYWAY DEKU IS PRETTY COOL ACTUALLY, YOU GUYS ARE JUST MEAN” couldn’t have said it better myself Ochako

lol uh

gotta say I did not have “Ochako reveals the secret of OFA to the entire U.A. Citizen Clown Parade” on my bingo card for this week. it’s a bold strategy cotton let’s see if it pays off

SDLFKJSL

“NO, SERIOUSLY, HAVE YOU LOOKED AT HIM YOU GUYS. YOU THINK HE LIKES RUNNING AROUND DRESSED LIKE A RUSTED OIL DRUM?? HE DID THAT FOR YOU YOU UNGRATEFUL SLOBS”

so she is basically explaining the entire Deku Angst arc to them and explaining what a good and selfless protagonist Deku is, YES, PREACH

OMG IT’S THE GIGANTIC FOX LADY

not to insinuate anything, but what exactly were you doing standing out here with the hysterical mob, Gigantic Fox Lady? you’re better than that

-- KACCHAN SIGHTING!!

sdlkfjl. thanks for weighing in with that helpful and important observation. where have you been for the last five minutes. were you asleep. was it Jeanist’s speech

never mind, now he’s yelling at the civilians so I instantly forgive him

THE FUTURE NUMBER ONE HERO, EVERYONE. THANK YOU, THANK YOU. HE’LL BE HERE ALL WEEK

“anyway so I’m just going to end the chapter here” lmao seventeen pages truly do go by so fast. at least he didn’t try to force in a cliffhanger at the end this time. dare I say, growth

so I guess the civilians are either gonna have a Kamino and/or Fukuoka-esque moment where they remember how to be decent people and apologize to this poor young man, or else they’ll remain unpersuaded, and so Kacchan will have to knock a few of their heads around until they become more inclined to be reasonable. either option is fine by me lol

[babyjamiebarnes]

Build-A-Bear

Part Eleven

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Steve, Sam, Peter, OC background characters

Warnings: language, sexual implications and references, blackmail

Summary: Bucky decides it’s time to come clean to Tony, consequences be damned. Steve has his own bombshell, of sorts.

Author’s Note: Hi. I’m a lazy piece of crud. I wanted to post this earlier but I suck. It’s kinda short too, at least compared to previous parts. There will probably only be a couple parts left, maybe 2-3? I’m posting these chapters as I write so tbd in length lol. And as always, feel free to buy me a coffee!

Tags: @amourmarvel @fangirlvoice @kennedywxlsh @devilswaldorf @what-the-hap-is-fuckning @alyispunk @fredweasleysbitchh @wearegroot @sunflowerbebe107 @prestigious-tea @brckenmemories @angelbabymed @charmedbysarge @cruelsummer-s

Series Masterlist

“Are you fucking insane?”

Everyone moved back to your apartment to avoid freaking poor Matt out any more. And now there was a standoff in your living room.

“It’s the only course of action that makes sense,” Bucky said in his defense.

“Buck, her dad will skin you alive if he sees those pictures,” Sam said. “Even if he’s somehow fine with it, she’ll lose her job!”

“If we don’t do this, that kid downstairs loses his family!” Bucky shouted back.

Sam groaned in exasperation and ran his hands over his face. “There’s gotta be a way to get the money.”

“There’s not,” you said defeatedly. All eyes turn to you. They initially looked to you for guidance, but your reliance on Bucky gave him the wheel on your own personal highway to hell. “Even if we do give this person the money, there’s only one person we can get that kind of cash from. Bucky’s right. We have to tell my dad.”

“[Y/N], maybe we should brainstorm some other options,” Peter nearly whispered, keeping his voice soft in the midst of the chaos. “I don’t want you to lose your job.”

“I’ll quit,” Bucky said suddenly. “I’ll quit being an Avenger and just do, fuck, private security? Or something.”

You could see the stress and fear and frustration written on his face. In a couple steps, you were standing in front of him and were able to cup his scruffy cheeks as you spoke.

“We’ll figure all that out later.” You perked up on your toes and gave him a short kiss. “But right now, we’re on a bit of a time crunch. I’d like to end this sooner rather than later so… let’s tell Tony.”

With Peter willingly sitting in the open trunk area of the Jeep, everyone was able to fit in one car back to the Tower. The tension inside the vehicle could’ve been cut, sliced, and diced with a knife. No one wanted to say anything, but no one really knew what to say anyway.

Steve was still silent. He didn’t say a word when you discussed telling Tony, but you could practically see the gears turning in his head. He had something to say, he just wasn’t saying it.

By the time you got to the Tower, you felt like you were gonna throw up. You held the envelope with the letter and media tight in your grasp, only letting go to open your door. The second your feet touched the garage floor, Bucky was right beside you.

He kept a firm grip on your hand, squeezing a little extra so you knew he was there with you and wasn’t going to let anything bad (worse) happen. Knowing he was willing to risk his entire livelihood for you made you love him even more. But you knew if it came down to it, you’d give up your position with the Avengers. Even with only two years spent at Stark Industries — just under a year spent with the Avengers (and nearly a year with Bucky) — you’d have no problem getting a new job with any other company. Bucky’s skills were put to the best use saving the world.

As the elevator approached the floor with your dad’s office, Sam finally broke the silence.

“Do you want us to be in there with you? I’m thinking it might be better if it’s just you two.”

You turned to see Peter wringing his hands, subconsciously agreeing with Sam — he clearly didn’t want to be in the room when all this went down but was putting on a brave face to be a good support system. Steve still stood silent with his arms crossed over his chest. Whatever was going on in that head was still festering.

“I think you’re right,” you agreed with Sam. “We’ll come find you once he gets the news.”

Your eyes met Bucky’s and even though he was trying to remain confident for you, there was fear behind those baby blues.

“We’ll be okay,” you said just loudly enough for him to hear.

When you reached the floor you’d been dreading, Sam, Steve, and Peter all turned to go to their designated rooms, partially because it had been a while since all of them had been back, partially to stay far away from the impending outburst.

You took a deep breath and started toward Tony’s office, just to be pulled back into Bucky’s arms. He held you tight, nuzzling his face in your hair and just holding you. You gripped the back of his shirt in response and just took a moment to appreciate the hard muscles of his chest and the weight of his arms around you.

“We’re gonna be okay,” you whispered.

Bucky let out a breath and kissed the crown of your head.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

This made you pull back and look up at him.

“Lose me? Bucky, I’m not going to let this affect us. No matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere. I love you too much, Bucky Bear.”

The affectionate nickname made him smile, even if it was just a little quirk of the lips.

“I love you too, Build-A-Bear.”

You let him hold you for a couple more minutes before leading him to your dad’s closed office door. When you slowly pushed the door open, you saw Tony sitting behind his desk with half a dozen holographic screens open in front of him.

“Hey pumpkin, what are you doing here?” he asked, barely taking his eyes off his work for a second.

“Um, I kind of really need to talk to you.” Despite being on close speaking terms with your dad — the kind where you felt comfortable swearing in front of him and joking with him, even sharing some of your secrets — you felt like this was crossing a line.

Of course it was. You were in bed with (his perception of) the enemy.

Tony could tell something was wrong by how timid you sounded. You were always loud and bubbly with him — a quality you definitely got from him. He swiped all of the screens closed and walked around the large desk to stand in front of you. He briefly met Bucky’s eyes as the super soldier stood close behind you.

“What’s going on?”

“You-you should probably sit down for this,” you said shakily. Tony took the seat nearest you instead of walking back behind his desk. “So… you know how I’ve been dating James for, like, 10, 11ish months now?”

“And I still haven’t met him?” Tony said with a quirked brow.

“Yeah.” You forced a chuckle. “Well, when we were going through mail this morning, I… I got this.”

You held up the envelope before sliding out the letter and handing it to your dad. His expression went from curious to furious in seconds as his eyes scanned the entire page.

“They sent pictures. Pictures taken through my apartment windows of me and James. Being… intimate.”

“James who?” your dad asked, still staring at the letter. When you didn’t reply, he looked you in the eye, his expression hard as he demanded, “[Y/N], what is James’s last name?”

You took a short breath, the most your anxiety-gripped lungs could handle, and avoided his gaze as you replied.

“Barnes.”

Tony shot up from his seat, his eyes moving from you to the man behind you. The familiar feeling of a metal hand on your lower back helped ease the anxiety coursing through you at your dad’s reaction. When Tony took a step toward Bucky, you countered with a panicked step between them, looking up at your dad and pleading.

“He didn’t know who I was.”

“Bullshit,” Tony spat. He and Bucky were glaring at each other over your head.

“He didn’t, I swear. He found out the same day everyone else did.”

The grinding of his teeth let you know he was seething. But trying to hold it together for now.

“Let me see the rest,” Tony said calmly, holding his hand out. You reluctantly dropped the photos and DVD into his open palm. Bucky didn’t want to get too affectionate, so he just rested his hand on your hip while Tony flipped through the photos.

Everything was back in order, so he went through the same sequence you did: pap photos, to apartment photos, to sex photos. You could tell when the pictures turned raunchy by the way Tony’s face contorted, tossing the photos down shortly after.

“Friday, play the disc,” he commanded. The video played against the only blank wall in the room, the audio of you and Bucky playing through the speakers.

“Dad, you really don’t need to —” you started, quickly stopped by a sharp glare from your father.

“What are you gonna do to me?”

“I’m gonna put a baby in you. I’m gonna cum inside this tight pussy until you can’t take it anymore.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Tony nearly growled. “Friday, shut it off.”

“I tried to tell you,” you murmured under breath, though not loud enough for him to hear. Bucky did hear it though, evident by the way he squeezed your hip.

Tony leaned forward against his desk, hanging his head in clear frustration. You knew better than to speak up while he contained his emotions, so you stood in silence with Bucky as your dad sighed heavily and spoke to himself under his breath.

“You just have something against me, don’t you?” Tony said accusingly to Bucky.

“Don’t do that,” you scoffed. “You don’t get to do that. If you’re going to get mad at anyone, it needs to be me.” You never got snappy with your dad, but everything weighing on your shoulders frayed your nerves and his attitude didn’t do anything to fix it. “I’m the one who knew full well what we were doing. I’m the one who had all the details. I’m the one who chose to risk everything for this from the start. So if you’re really that mad, take it out on me. Otherwise, help us. We’ll get to the semantics and firing and all that bullshit later. Right now, there are literal lives on the line.”

Tony was still fuming until he heard the last line.

“What do you means ‘lives on the line’?”

Bringing Steve, Sam, and Peter in helped all of you explain what happened, from the note you received to the first viewing of the photos and video to the confrontation with Matt, but not without Tony grilling all of them about when and how they found out about you and Bucky. Peter looked nervous about keeping a secret from his boss, but you knew your dad wouldn’t do anything too bad to the kid. Maybe kick him off a couple missions, but nothing noteworthy. Steve and Sam looked like they really couldn’t care less, especially since Sam was the last to know.

Despite still wanting to rip Bucky’s arm off and beat him with it, Tony remained civil for your sake, at least until all of this was sorted.

The first step was getting Peter, Happy, and Pepper to try to track down where the letters came from, which likely meant scanning for fingerprints (despite how many hands held it that day alone). The second step was for you, Bucky, Tony, Sam, and Steve to scope out your building and any neighboring buildings someone may have been scoping your apartment from. There was no one someone could’ve been dangling outside your windows without you noticing. The third step was meeting with your doorman again to try to piece together some answers.

You all agreed to keep local law enforcement out of it so the culprit didn’t catch on as quickly. Having a few Avengers and Tony Stark show up at Tony’s daughter’s apartment wasn’t out of the ordinary so you could still stay under wraps. There was no reason to draw attention to your place and possibly trigger the mystery person into accelerating their plans.

With your dad’s confidence in the plan, you gradually grew more and more optimistic about the plan. If all else failed, Tony would get the two million and continue tracking the fucker down. It wouldn’t be hard to sneak a tracker into the cash and watch where it goes once it’s out of your hands. That’s when you could bring in local law enforcement.

It felt like things were finally going your way.

As you and your crew headed downstairs to drive back to your place, Steve grabbed your arm and tugged you to the side.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked quietly.

You nodded and followed him down the hall; Bucky was busy talking to Sam and Tony was on the phone briefing Rhodey so he could stand guard outside your doorman’s place for a while, giving you the perfect opportunity to step away for a minute. When Steve pulled you into a side room, you finally spoke up.

“What’s up? Is everything okay?”

Steve crossed his arms and huffed. That signature frown of his softened when he met your concerned gaze.

“I know we’re not necessarily close, but I consider you a friend. You know that, right?”

“I consider you a friend too,” you said with a nod.

“What I’m about to say... I need you to keep it between us. Don’t tell Bucky or Sam or Peter or your dad. Just between us, at least for now. Okay?”

“O-okay...? You’re making me nervous, Steve,” you admitted. “What’s going on?”

“I think I know who’s blackmailing you.”

[braindeadskeletons]

Speaking of music, I really like to sing, and I think I'm actually pretty good at it. I don't open up very easily at all, so if I'm honest with you I really trust you. And I've been described as the friend everyone comes to for comfort/advice, and I take that role with pride. In public, I can be very affectionate, or not affectionate at all. It really depends on what my S/O would like. But when we're home, I'm usually pretty clingy. (I hope thiat wasn't too much, or too little, info!) (2/2)

okay so I did a huge whoops and deleted the first half of this ask. Here's the first part of it:

Hi, I'm here for a matchup! (Sorry in advance if I do a lot of asks to fit in all my info). My name is Viper, I am Genderfluid, Pansexual, and Polyamorus. I am an ambivert, who normally doesn't leave my house unless asked, but once I do my inner extrovert comes out. But I can only take so much, and after a couple of hours I'll need some alone time to relax. I like to read adventure/sci-fi/horror books when I get the chance. I also am an amateur artist, who listens to music 24/7. (1/?)

Hello there! Don't worry about it at all the more information on you the merrier. Reading this you honestly sound like such an awesome person to be around with and just hangout. Like I could just say something that's been on my mind for a really long time and it's pretty heavy but you completely just listen and understand. You're just someone everybody gets along with you know? Immediately when I read everything two boys came to mind instantly and though they may be the most basic answers I'd say I got the match pretty accurate. Or at least I'd like to think so lol. Thank you so much for sending this in!

I match you with Horrortale!Sans and Undertale!Sans

Alright so immediately off the bat you may be thinking 'how the fuck did I get here?' and honestly that's a valid question. You don't exactly see the two and think that they're best friends who could both share a very cute human. Axe reflects Sans in such a way that really disturbs him. If the human just made one different decision Sans would've been left in the underground to starve with every other monster. He also isn't very fond of how Crooks appears and it kind of haunts him that in another timeline he failed Paps. Axe on the other hand isn't fond of Sans because he feels like he always acts high and mighty. He doesn't like how Sans can sit around and act like Axe is some sort of freak when Sans isn't even a completely innocent monster himself. He just acts like a lazy idiot but he isn't. It also doesn't help that whenever Axe looks at Sans he's just reminded of how his Frisk wronged him. He's reminded that he isn't the monster he used to be because of the head injury he endured and the hardships underground. As mentioned before, one wrong move and at the end of the day Sans and Axe are one of the same. They both reflect the parts of each other that they would rather live without confronting.

There's immediately a lot to unpack here from the start. Getting the two to even begin to compromise on a poly relationship with you is admittedly going to be a challenge. It would require you to be able to firmly hold your ground and get them to sort their shit out. It's a lot of conversation and trust needed in order for this to work out. In the end, they both come to the compromise after a lot of discussion and setting boundaries of what is and isn't alright with them. Sometimes they might clash a bit and have those issues resurface (its very rare since both skeletons when needed are amazing at concealing their emotions) and you'll need to act as the middleman. At the end of the day it's all worth it to them just to see you happy.

Let's start off first with Sans. It's amazing how I've gone on for a bit and I haven't even technically started. The fact that you don't really like going out of your way to go out unless asked to is a bit of a relief. It's not that Sans doesn't like socializing, it's just that a lot of the time he really needs a break to just relax on the couch and nap with you, you know? He's got a lot on his mind and Papyrus often scolds him for sleeping and with Grillby's it can at times be overwhelming when he just needs peace and quiet. Just knowing that his cute datemate isn't going to do any of that helps him relax. It's going to be a lot of just enjoying each other's company even if it's quiet at the start. The silence between you two isn't ever uncomfortable though, just enjoying your company is enough for him. Of course there will actually be times where he does offer you to go to Grillby's and when you say yes he's always really happy to share his favorite bar with you. When you two sit together at his usual spot it's a lot of him joking around with you and absolutely looking at you with heart eyes when he gets a certain genuine laugh out of you. He's actually teased about it a lot the few times you don't accept his offer to go to Grillby's. Sans lives to see you smile with his jokes and he just tells them that they're jealous he ended up with such a cute datemate and they didn't. If you ever find yourself exhausted and you need to go home after you're bone tired just tell him and he'll teleport you right home no hassle.

Once you reach a certain point in your relationship Sans will start to gradually accept your affection. You'll need to ease him into it, since he's really not used to anybody besides his brother showing him any sort of affection. Of course before this he's absolutely bombarding you with flirty puns numerous times but physical affection? That's going to take a while. However once he's used to it you can absolutely smother him all you want. He'll only get embarrassed if it's in a public place like Grillbys but he's good at hiding it for the most part. In front of people like his brother he'll still be a little unsure but for the most part it's like a running joke where Pap yells at him to knock it off and Sans pushes his buttons a little. It often goes a little like this:

Papyrus: SANS! I DEMAND THAT YOU UNHAND THE HUMAN THIS INSTANT!

Sans, a hand on your waist: what human?

Papyrus: THE ONE IN YOUR POSSESSION

Sans, pulling you closer: this human?

Papyrus: SANS

Sans: this one right here?

Papyrus: SANS STOP

Sans, moving his hands a little lower:

Papyrus: SANS PLEASE WE'RE SURROUNDED BY CHILDREN THIS IS A HUMAN CHILD'S 5TH BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION

It's all in good fun and he never goes further than that. The one place he'll draw the line is if you get a little too sexual for him in public. Especially if his brother is right there. He prefers to keep that stuff just between you and him.

Okay now onto Axe! Unlike Sans, Axe would rather stay inside for the rest of his life than go outside. His appearance discourages him from wanting to do so. If you're with him this mentality will probably be projected onto you as well. He won't really ask you to go out anywhere (unless it's somewhere he specifically knows will make you happy) so in terms of that don't expect much from him. Axe is really happy that you don't really like going out either way and you'd rather spend time with him inside the house where it's safe, warm, and he can keep an eye out for you. It's comforting to him that he can know where you are and that you're happy with him. His favorite moments with you are when you've got your head in a book and he sees your face relax as you get lost in your own little world. It's just the cutest thing. Axe absolutely adores the fact that you're clingy because unlike his counterpart (assuming that at this point he obviously trusts you) it doesn't take time for him at all to want to cuddle you, hold you in his arms, kiss you, etc. He's shy about none of it. The only thing you'd really need to look out for is when you try and initiate affection yourself. It's not that it's unwelcomed; he just doesn't take surprises well due to the nature of his underground. Make sure that you let him know what's coming and you'll both be perfectly fine. During the few times that you two are in public together he's not shy about showing the world that you're his. The only time where he might ask you to step back a little is when you're with his brother. He doesn't like Crooks seeing stuff like this because he still has an instinct to protect him from things. Not that you'd ever try anything of course.

An aspect about you that both skeletons greatly appreciate is how you're very honest with the people that you love and that you act as the friend who listens. They've both found themselves in the same position as you and now that you're dating both of them it's a wonderful change of pace. You all can sit down and vent to each other instead of only listening to others rant and you all absolutely trust each other. Honesty and integrity are both traits the skeletons really look for in a datemate. There's basically no secrets between the three of you and for your skeleton boys thats definitely new for them. As for your talent with singing and art? They genuinely can't get enough of either. Whenever you draw something? Sans will literally stare and wonder how he ended up with someone as talented as you meanwhile Axe has already grabbed the drawing and put it on the fridge. If you ever try and talk yourself down both of them are immediately on your case about how you shouldn't put yourself down and that everything you make is a masterpiece. Axe will literally also ask you who the fuck made you think like that and where do they live. He isn't joking. Sans won't be as vocal about it as Axe is but he's listening in as well. With your singing they both love your voice to pieces. Sans will hype you up to every single person at Grillby's and even encourage you to let others hear your talent. If not, that's cool too. He can just sit and listen at home. Axe mostly likes to ask for you to sing to him when he's having a really rough day or when it's late at night and you're both alone. What can he say? It helps him sleep.

[skeletorific]

man i bet it's super odd for the ancestor trolls to be putting out pale feels on anyone, much less a human. I can just see the most frustrated lil ball of horns and teeth trying to figure out if theres, ya know, *room* in a human's life for moirailegence with this whole platonic structure called a family and the only-one-romance-a-hooman standard/stigma and. they need a pap just tryin to figure it out! If you wouldn't mind, i'd love to hear your take on how psiionic darkleer, n dualscar would do

Me skating the fuck in to answer Ancestors requests. (I’m assuming this is in reference to my Ancestors live on Earth C timeline, but the headcanons themselves will work for just a general human interaction, I promise)

So, a note about Earth C and quad: I really can’t imagine that troll, human, and carapacian concepts of romance wouldn’t start to mingle, at least to a certain extent. After all, the three species come up at the same time, right alongside each other.

Quadrants aren’t exactly the norms for humans even there. Our reproductive needs are different, for one-thing. Additionally, I have to imagine that even without the social coding of Earth-A, a good chunk of humans would probably still tend to be fairly monogamous, especially if one of the primary texts left behind was written by a human woman raised on human monogamy who took only one lover herself. However, there’s probably a healthy chunk of humans who go by quadrants, trolls who go by human romance, and some who mix and match (for instance, “This is Ben, my significant other, and this is Meryll, my kismesis”). Its something most people figure out as they get older.

However, that doesn’t necessarily mean that the ancestors have cottoned on to the nuances of it all. Getting the idea of human monogamy through their heads was hard enough, and once it happens, of course THEN they have to catch pale feelings for one of the squishy fucks!

The Psiionic: So, unlike the other two on this list, Captor has actually had some experience with relationships that are a little more....fluid. Vantas and Leijon’s relationship always fell squarely in the middle of the chart, borrowing elements from all and none. Hell, his OWN relationship with the two of them tiptoed pitch, pale, ashen, and flushed depending on the day of the week. So, while he does still broadly conceive of things like an Alternian, its not necessarily an insurmountable barrier for him.

How he proceeds depends a lot on whether or not the human already has an s/o. If you do, he ultimately just bites the bullet and asks to talk to both of you (bringing Vantas and Leijon along for emotional support). He doesn’t want to move in where he’s not welcome and he’s got no designs on your flushed relationship. He’s quiet and his voice is shaking a bit as he struggles to keep his nerves (and by extent, his psiionics) under controll. But he’s never seen the point in fucking around the pricklefrond. Either you feel the same, or you don’t.  

If you don’t have an s/o, though, he just sort of carefully allows himself to become a feature in your life. He’s a little shakey socially but he puts the effort in to be around you. Captor’s never gonna be the most effusive emotionally, but he does make a point to give the occasional genuine compliment as to how he appreciates who you are, and what you do. When you’re having trouble he has a tendency to just sort of materialize in the background to offer his help. Pale flirting is all about trust, both engendering it, and demonstrating it for each other. No matter how oblivious you are, its hard not to notice that his walls are usually so high for others, yet they seem to come down around you.

Despite aforementioned not-fucking-around-the-pricklefrond, its possible he won’t ever use the word moirail for you unless you ask him about it. You’re human, and he doesn’t see the need to regale you with the complexities of troll romance if you’re both happy with the current arrangement. One way or another, though, Vantas runs at the mouth and spills the beans to you, and you have a good long talk about it.

Executor Darkleer: This guy, on the other hand, is a staunch traditionalist, paired with the fact that he ultimately thinks he’s somehow unworthy of love in any form. 

Years of social conditioning don’t just fall away because you and your former empress shop for box wine at the same liquor store now. As an expatriate, Zahhak was literally forbidden from contributing to the filial slurry, and was far too isolated to acquire a moirail. The best he had was the occasional frustrated shoosh-pap from Mindfang just to snap him out of his moods for a bit. Now, the old empire may have fallen away, but he’s still to some extent punishing himself. As a result, as soon as he figures out he’s catching pale feelings for a human, he starts avoiding you at all costs. He can’t allow himself to fall into any kind of temptation. The very qualities that attract him to you are the same reason he’s convinced you deserve something better.

Fortunately, there was no way you were friends with Darkleer in the first place if you were the type to let social avoidance turn you off. After a couple of weeks of not hearing from him (and a few confusingly smug texts from Mindfang when you ask her if he’s doing alright and her only response was “Go find out. I’m sure he’ll 8e more than alr8 ;;;;)”), you show up at his hive and bang on the door until he finally lets you in.

If you were hoping for a big confession, you’ll probably be a little disappointed: he’s not the type. But he does let you chastise him for withdrawing like that, finally extracting a promise that he won’t do it again. All the while him thinking that this, too, could be part of his penance. To let the human stay with by your side....but not allow yourself the luxury of what you truly want....why its almost scandalous-

Yup. He’s pale edging himself, and will continue to do so until you finally break down and demand he explain why he’s being so weird. Or until Mindfang loses her patience and tells you herself, if only to get him to stop leaving soliloquies in her DMs. Either way.

Dualscar: Another traditionalist, but he’s never really been lucky enough in love to be that picky about the system he falls under. The last proper, long-lasting quadrant relationship he had was his kismesis with Mindfang, and well.....kind of a funny story how that one went, honestly.

Assuming you’re single, his way forward is pretty easy. He reads up on human romance for 48 hours straight and presumes he knows what the fuck is up. Honestly its not terribly different from moirallegiance in some respects. You’re supposed to uplift your partner, and plenty of sources recommend that your s/o should be your “best friend”. Conversations involving your feelings are a norm, and humans even have the concept of a “fated match”, something pretty integral to Alternian moirallegiance. As for the rest, well, he can lean into some of the redder aspects of his feelings, pull out the old Ampora charm, and leave the rest in Lady Luck’s hands, right?

Right?

Well....for the first few months it works fine. You’ve always been close with Dualscar, felt like you got each other on some level, and to some degree a romantic relationship felt like a natural extension of that. He can be sweet, showers you with gifts, and is good at listening to your problems and letting you bitch without making you feel like you’re burdening him. He’s funny, in a bitchy dad kind of way, and frankly kind of dashing. 

But something’s off. You notice he seems to shrink down a little bit when you try to get a bit more physical with him. Not like he dislikes it, necessarily, more like he’s...confused. While you feel closer with him than ever, there’s none of those flowery declarations you find tucked in his journal, dedicated to great loves in his past. Even on your end, you feel like you still just think of him as like.....a best friend, but more so somehow? Being romantic with him as you would be with a human feels...wrong, You reflect each other so well and so closely that its like you’re a piece of each other, and calling him your boyfriend feels like trying to call yourself your own boyfriend.

The truth comes out when you try to break up with him and in a panic he explains himself to you. Running through a long (and somewhat incoherent) crash course on troll romance, with a special focus on moirallegiance. He’s stumbling over his words (unusual when he’s sober), half waiting for your eyes to widen in shock and for you to end things forever.

So imagine his shock when you blink a few times and say “why the hell didn’t you just say so?”

As Peixes would say later, “L-Eave it to an Ampora to mak-E s)(it way mor-E glubbin complicat-Ed t)(an it n-E-Eds to b-E.”

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

I Can Make You Feel Like A King | Calum Hood

@loaahossam requested: Idk if you’re taking requests atm or even doing smuts, but I have this idea of Calum’s gf being a singer and had this song from David Guetta’s new album : “She Knows How To Love Me” & it’s all unusually sexy and stuff cause she’s always shy and sweet and maybe the MV is released while they’re on tour or you’re watching it with them waiting for Calum’s reaction or even preforming it in a award show or something and Calum’s reaction is everything and maybe you can take it further the way you like!

A/N: damn, good song! I’ve had this request in my inbox for a while, sorry for the wait, love! 

Pairing: Singer!reader x Calum Hood

Words: 1873

Warnings: mild smut

Summary: You and Calum attend the same award show as you and the band were both nominated for an award and you had to perform your hit single with David Guetta. And someone might like it a little more than anyone else... 

To say I was excited is an understatement. I am going to perform at the Brit awards. A dream of mine since this career of mine really started taking off. The fact that my boyfriend and his band were going to be attending the award show made everything ten times better. And both being nominated for a couple of awards was the cherry on top of the already quite perfect cake.  “You ready, baby?” Calum asks as I’m about to get out of the car. I came with the boys in the same car. It would be stupid to take another car when I pretty much came from the same place as the boys. Sierra and Crystal came too as Michael’s and Luke’s +1′s. We’d probably get pictures all together for the press, some of me and Calum - as the paps have been following our every move since we were first seen together - and some of me by myself probably too. I think that’s what my manager told me would happen anyway.  “You look damn gorgeous,” Calum whispers in my ear as he holds onto my waist as we pose for some pictures. I smile a little and look at the floor to check if my long dress still looked okay. After photos, the seven of us head inside with our management and go to our designated seats. They had seated me with the boys, which I was thankful for. It made the experience twice as nice and made me a little less nervous for the performance. I needed to remember lyrics, choreography and I needed to be backstage in time for my dress change.  “Y/N, it’s time,” my manager tells me.  “Good luck, baby,” Calum tells me, and a chorus of good lucks sounds from the other boys and girlfriends too. I give them a smile before following my manager backstage. I get dressed quickly and my hair gets done. The tech guy hands me my microphone and attaches my pack to my clothes. I put the in-ears in and take a couple deep breaths.  “Put your hands together for the amazing Y/N performing her hit single She Knows How to Love Me,” the presenter introduces me and the music starts. That’s my cue to head onto the stage with my background dancers. The first few moves are quite innocent and almost 50′s-like, until I start singing and that’s when the choreography gets a little more rowdy too. “I know how to make you feel like a king I know how to be your everything I love how you do, got nowhere to run” I give my everything during the performance, trying not to look into the crowd too much as that would distract me and it would make me mess up. But I can’t help but glance over at Calum. I give him a quick wink before turning around, snapping my head back to look back at the crowd and shake my ass that little bit more, just to tease Calum. And because it’s kind of part of the choreography.  I finish up the performance, posing with the sexiest pose I can muster, the dancers all behind me. I feel a rush of power going through me as the entire crowd applauses and I hear some whistling and screaming too, most of that comes from where the boys are seated.  “Thank you!” I say into the microphone before walking off stage. I hand the crew my microphone back and my pack too before heading to the dressing room and getting back into my long dress that makes me feel like a princess. I drink from my water as I’ve never been this thirsty, and before I can properly leave my dressing room to go back to my seats where the boys are, I’m stopped by someone who harshly pushes me further into the room. It startles me a little, but when I feel a pair of warm lips on mine with a familiar taste, I know I shouldn’t panic. I hear the door shut and feel a pair of hands on my ass.  “What are you doing, Cal?” I ask, mumbling against his lips.  “You totally turned me on with that performance, baby girl,” he explains to me as he lifts me on the makeup table.  “And you really couldn’t wait until we got home?” I ask, giggling a little. A part of me is glad that it turned him on as I myself got turned on by the way he looked tonight. That prince Charming jacket looks way too good on him and I wish I could just rip it off him.  “Not at all,” he groans a little, turning me on even more. I can feel him struggling to get my dress up, which makes me laugh a little.  “Should I take my dress off?” I ask, still not really breaking the kiss.  “No, it’s fine,” he says, and just when those words leave his mouth, I feel a warm finger slip inside me. Without warning, just surprised me. “I know how to make  you feel like a queen too, baby,” he then tells me as he speeds up and slides in a second finger as well. I moan a little, making sure it’s not too loud. Not everyone needed to know we were having sex in the dressing room.  His pace quickens as he feels up my insides, hitting me right where I need it. I’m close and I can feel myself clenching around him.  “Let go, princess. Let go,” he orders sternly while placing kisses on my neck. I let go, letting myself cum on his fingers. He retracts his fingers and licks both of them off whilst looking at me with arousal and lust in his eyes. I pull him closer by his shirt and start unbuttoning it only to start kissing his chest. I kiss both his tattoos, then go down to his nipples and further to his abs. I jump off the table and begin working his belt. He cups my face and kisses me hard again. Our tongues twirling around one another. His penis springs free when I take his boxers off, standing proudly upwards. Someone is hard for me.  “I know how to make you feel like a king,” I sing again before taking his cock in my mouth and starting to pump up and down, deepthroating as far as my gag-reflex can go. The room fills up with Calum’s moans, turning me on even more than I already was. I quicken the pace, Calum gripping my hair tightly as he thrusts into me, trying to chase his high.  “Fuck, princess. Fuck,” he moans loudly. When I look up at him, one hand is tangled in my hair, the other is behind him, holding onto the makeup table. His eyes are shut, pleasure and arousal on his face. I slow down a little, causing him to groan even louder, his voice trembling a little even. He comes inside my mouth, and without hesitation, I swallow. “I love you so much,” he then whispers as he kisses me again. The both of us get dressed and I check the mirror real quick to check if my makeup is still in tact and my hair doesn’t look like someone has tugged on it. Just when Calum is zipping his pants, my manager storms in the dressing room. Her eyes widen as she notices what she had just walked into.  “I-just... Uhm... You’ve just won an award, girl. Get your ass up on stage!” my eyes widen this time as the words hit me. I won an award? Seriously?  “Go!” Calum tells me, slapping my ass. I follow my manager to the stage where I get my award from the girls from Little Mix.  “Uhm... I... Wow, what?” I mumble into the mic once I’ve hugged each member and they’ve stepped aside to give me some space for a speech. I see Calum walk back to his spot, a proud smile on his face. “Thank you all so much for this award! I don’t even know what to say! Jesus, okay. I would like to thank my management for believing in me in the first place. Thanks to David Guetta too for making such a bomb track and thank you for including me on it. Thank you to Y/M/N and Y/D/N, my dear parents, whom I’ve wouldn’t have been here in the first place. And thanks David and Joy for bringing my one true love to this planet. And thanks to that one true love for always being there for me on bad days and on the good ones. Thank you for always giving your honest opinion on my new work and for helping me when I’m stuck with something,” I say as I look directly to my boyfriend, who looks a little surprised I’m thanking him. Tears start welling up in my eyes. “Damn, I didn’t want to cry. You’re making me cry, Calum Hood. Thank you so much for being my rock, the line of my kite to keep me grounded. Thanks for being the best boyfriend in the world. And lastly, thank you to my fans who support me and the art you allow me to make. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go back to my dressing room and cry a little over this glorious award. I love you, thank you!” I finally conclude my long-ass speech, holding the award up a little higher as everyone applauds. Me and the girls of Little Mix exit the stage, careful not to fall with our heels.  “Aw, your speech was so cute!” says Leigh-Anne as we all walk towards my dressing room. Jade has her hand on my back, rubbing it in a soothing way as I’m still sobbing over my speech.  “Why didn’t you come from the crowd?” Perrie then questions. I blush a little thinking of what had happened before in the dressing room.  “Because I was in my dressing room... With my boyfriend...” I tell them, chuckling a little through the tears. The four girls start laughing loudly, knowing exactly what had happened in there.  “That’s amazing!” exclaims Perrie, still in fits of laughter.  “I’m not sure how I still look presentable, to be fair,” I laugh too, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. I hand the trophy to one of the crew members before getting back to my seat, Little Mix doing the exact same thing.  “I’m so damn proud of you, baby,” Calum tells me and kisses my cheek when I’m sat down again. I give him a smile and see some smudged red lipstick on the corner of his mouth. With my thumb, I carefully wipe it away.  “Thank you, gorgeous,” I say back with the most thankful smile ever. My heart is full and I don’t think I have ever been happier. This is the most perfect night ever, especially with our little rendez-vous in the dressing room. But even if that hadn’t happened, it would’ve been perfect. Because I’m here with the love of my life and the best friends one could ever ask for. I love my life.  

[popatochisssp]

Snips & Snails 5/7

Series: Undertale, Horrortale Relationship(s): HT!Sans & HT!Papyrus, HT!Sans/Reader, HT!Papyrus/Reader Chapter Warnings: Brief panic attack, healthy discussed polyamory

It's hard to feel 'morally upright' when you're in love with your brother's spouse.

AO3 Link

INTEGRITY (Optionally Canon)

Janine was looking at him flatly, in that no-nonsense way that had so endeared her to him in the first place.

He isn’t sure how much he appreciates the look now.

“Papyrus,” she says. “Do you really think that’s a fair assessment of yourself? That you’re ‘the worst brother in the world’?”

Papyrus considers it.

“No, I Definitely Think That’s Just About The Size Of It!” he decides. “I Am, Actually, The Worst!”

And he is.

He has to be.

Because a good brother wouldn’t go and do something as stupidly selfish as develop feelings for his brand new sibling-in-law.

Papyrus isn’t quite sure how Janine even got this out of him except that she’s very good and very sneaky.

It’s the whole reason he started seeing her as his therapist, but it’s also considerably jarring when she manages to finesse the exact thing he wants to talk about the least and make it the center-stage of discussion.

It had just seemed as if one minute, they were talking about how things were finally settling back down after Sans’ wedding, and then the next, he was talking about you, in all the ways a brother-in-law shouldn’t.

Your smile like sunshine, your laugh like music, your eyes the most incredible color he’s ever seen, and…

Stars above, he’s a piece of work for even having these thoughts.

“They’re My Friend,” he says aloud. “They’re Married To My Brother! I Was The Best Man and Skeleton Of Honor At Their Wedding, For Fuck’s Sake! This Is… Romance Is Not An Option Here, Why Am I Like This?!”

“So…what are you going to do?”

Janine’s voice is enough to nudge Papyrus back from the ledge he’d been rapidly approaching.

“…What Do You Mean, ‘Do’?”

Janine shrugs. “You like them, don’t you?” she prompts. “You’re going to do something about this, right?”

Papyrus frowns. “I…Well, Of Course, I Like Them, But—”

“So, what’s the plan, then?”

“There Isn’t A Plan, I—”

“Well, you’re gonna break up your brother’s marriage somehow, so you can be with them instead, aren’t you?”

“NO! STARS ABOVE, NO,” Papyrus exclaims, utterly aghast. “I WOULD NEVER! THOSE TWO ARE MY FAVORITE COUPLE OF ALL TIME! THEY MAKE EACH OTHER SO HAPPY!”

Papyrus was absolutely, totally sure of that.

Seeing you and Sans together never failed to make him feel all gooey and soft, like looking at a whole bucket of kittens. You were his best friend and Sans was his best brother, and your relationship made you both so adorably happy—Papyrus loved that, more than anything!

“JUST BECAUSE I’VE BEEN…WONDERING ABOUT THINGS LATELY—” like the feeling of holding your hand in his, or pressing his teeth to your cheek, “—THAT DOESN’T MEAN I’D EVER DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT! I WOULD NEVER TAKE THAT KIND OF HAPPINESS AWAY FROM SANS AND—Ohhh, You Tricky Therapist, You, I See What You’re Doing…”

Janine just smiles beneath Papyrus’ squinting glare.

“I’m just letting you talk, Papyrus,” she says lightly, and he hears all the smugness in the world in it. “Having feelings like this for somebody you’re close to and care a lot about… it’s very natural and there’s nothing ‘wrong’ or ‘bad’ about it.”

Papyrus huffs. “Yes, It’s Not Bad At All To Lust After Your Own Brother’s Spouse.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t work here,” Janine gently reminds him. “And I don’t think you’d be nearly so upset about these feelings if they were only ‘lusting.’”

Oh, damn her.

She sees through everything Papyrus puts up and he hates it.

(He needs it and he knows it: a kick in the pants is the only thing that works to make him actually deal with his problems instead of pretending they aren’t there.)

(But he still hates it.)

“Just thinking and feeling a certain way, even if it seems wrong, is totally fine. It only becomes ‘bad’ if you’re planning on doing something harmful to the people and relationships in your life over these impulses. And you said it yourself— you have no intention of doing anything about this.”

“I……I Suppose So,” Papyrus grudgingly admits.

Janine’s smile is patient. “You need to keep working on giving yourself a break sometimes, Papyrus. You’re a great guy, but you’re only—”

“If You’re Going To Say I’m ‘Only Human,’ Please Don’t!” Papyrus cuts her off. “That’s Such A Species-Centric Phrase. You Know, I Really Don’t Care For How Human-Coded Language Is Up Here On The Surface. Surely, There Are More Inclusive Ways To Get One’s Point Across Without Defaulting To ‘Human’ As An Adjective?”

“Is this something you’re actually upset about, or are you just trying to get out of talking more about your feelings for your human-in-law?”

“I Was Certainly Trying To,” Papyrus readily agrees, “But Our Session Is Almost Up, So I Figured You’d Let Me Get Away With It.”

His blunt honesty makes Janine chuckle. “Well, you’re not wrong, there’s no way we have enough time to unpack all that in two minutes. That can just be our food for thought next time.”

Fantastic! Papyrus is dreading it already.

They wrap up the session and Janine only briefly stops him on his way out to say, “You’re not the worst brother in the world, Papyrus. Seriously, go easy on yourself, you’re only…skeleton.”

“Terrible Execution,” Papyrus returns, “But The Effort Is Noted And Appreciated!”

He’s not sure he believes her. He still feels like the worst brother in the world, but there’s one saving grace to this entire SNAFU.

Sans is, as a rule, oblivious.

He undoubtedly has no idea that his brother has developed these shameful feelings for the love of his life, and Papyrus can keep up the charade for as long as he needs to! Just until the feelings go away on their own!

He has no Plan B for if they don’t.

He barely has a Plan A.

But!

He doesn’t call himself ‘The Great Papyrus’ for nothing and he’s survived much, much worse than this!

Everything is going to be…fine.

It has to be.

-

Or not.

Papyrus is only allowed to live in his wonderful, ‘everything is fine’ fantasy for a few more days until cruel reality barges its way in.

Or at least, Sans does.

His big brother’s skull pokes its way into the kitchen, right in the middle of Papyrus making dinner.

Sans’ red eye-light roves slowly over the familiar scene and in response to Papyrus’ wordless, ‘Yes, Excuse You, How May I Assist You?’ stare, he speaks the most unnerving words of all time into existence.

“ya’ need any help in here?”

Suspicious.

So terribly suspicious that a lazybones like Sans might’ve developed a wild urge to be helpful, and yet…

Papyrus can’t quite bring himself to discourage such a (fishy, dubious, weird) miracle.

“I Suppooose So,” he says warily as Sans ambles his way into the room. “You Can…Start Peeling The Potatoes For Me While I Throw The Casserole In…”

“yeah, sure,” Sans agrees, picking up a tuber. “no prob.”

Papyrus refuses to let Sans out of his line of sight, even as he slides the casserole dish into the oven. This is just too odd, must be some kind of prank or joke and Papyrus will not be caught unawares!

He decides to ask after you; if you’re not here to help him with dinner because you’re still sleeping or something.

You had the day off today, not for any particular reason, but just because.

Normally, Papyrus would find that so abominably lazy, clearly Sans rubbing off on you in the worst possible way, but…

He knows how hard you work the rest of the time.

You do so many things, often before they’re even asked of you, just because you feel like it’s the right thing to do, and that’s so… so…

Papyrus firmly believes that someone like you deserves a break now and then.

Sans smiles at the sound of your name, the way he always does.

“nah,” he says, “they’re awake. just hangin’ out in our room ‘til dinner.”

Which…

Begs the mildly terrifying question of…

Why aren’t you here now?

And why isn’t Sans with you?

“………hey, actually… while we’re talkin’ about ‘em…”

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Instantly, Papyrus knows what’s going on—he can tell by the set of Sans’ shoulders, the tone of his voice, this whole suspicious trap he should’ve seen through from the start.

Sans knows.

Sans knows everything.

“Oh God,” Papyrus breathes. “Oh Stars, Fuck, No, No, No, No…”

Sans turns to face Papyrus and his eye-light shrinks at whatever he sees in his brother’s face.

“whoa, whoa, hey,” he says, abandoning a half-peeled potato on the counter. “Pap, it’s… you’re, relax, ya’ don’t gotta… ya’ look like you’re gonna have an attack or somethin’…”

“Yes, It Sure Does Feel Like That!” Papyrus wheezes, hand to his chest.

It feels too tight, suddenly, which is so stupid because he doesn’t even have lungs and yet, it’s getting harder for him to breathe.

He’s…he’s light-headed and his soul is vibrating at a frequency fit to shatter glass and it’s starting to feel a little like he’s dying, but that part at least feels appropriate.

Sans knows, he’s figured it out or maybe just seen—maybe it was obvious, the things he’s been feeling every time he looked at you, things that only Sans should be thinking about you and not him because Sans married you, he was your husband and Papyrus was just…was just…

The absolute cad who wanted you, too.

“I’m…I’m Sorry,” Papyrus manages to get out, voice tight. “Sans, I—Oh Stars, I’m So Sorry, I, You…! You Were Never Supposed To Find Out, And I, Obviously I Would Never, I, I, I…I…”

He stumbles a little, his damned knees giving out, but he half-catches himself on the counter.

Sans looks alarmed to say the least.

In the blink of the eyes that neither of them has, he’s right there next to Papyrus, under his arm and trying to support him.

Which honestly makes Papyrus feel worse.

Sans is such a good brother, always trying to take care of Papyrus in some way or another.

Even now, when he knows what a horrible little brother he really has, the kind who’d want to date his spouse behind his back.

It’s a vicious mantra in his skull right now, The Worst, The Worst, The Worst on repeat, and he almost doesn’t hear it when Sans tries to talk to him.

“alright, alright, take it easy, bro, i think… think we might’ve gotten some wires crossed here? but that’s, it’s fine, just…can we chill out a little for a second?”

“I’m Sorry,” Papyrus apologizes again, grimacing. “Please, Sans, I…Yuh…You Have To Believe Me, I Never, I Was Never Going To…To… Please…”

“okay,” Sans agrees. His voice is a low, steady murmur, almost infuriatingly calm if not for the way it slightly eases the sheer panic that was making Papyrus’ bones rattle. “okay, Pap, i believe you, i know, everything’s okay.”

Lies, probably.

…But Sans almost never lied to him these days, not since before the famine.

He sounds…sincere.

And even if it is a lie, the ‘everything’s okay’ lie is one Papyrus really wants to believe right now.

“hey. can ya’ breathe with me for a sec, Pap?”

Oh god. The breathing exercises.

Papyrus supposes it’s just that kind of night.

“This Is Stupid,” he grumbles weakly. “This Is So Stupid, Sans, We Don’t Even Have Lungs!”

“yeah, i know, it’s dumb as hell. let’s try it anyway, huh?”

And so, reluctantly and cursing himself, Papyrus takes a deep breath and holds it, exhaling slowly when Sans does and starting it over again.

It must not have been as severe an attack as he thought because it only takes three long breaths before he can feel his soul steadying, his nerves quieting. He starts to feel less like a panicky mess of a skeleton and more like…himself.

Which is of course when the embarrassment rushes in.

Papyrus hates losing control like that. It’s probably his least favorite souvenir from the Underground and it always manages to rear its ugly head at the least opportune moments.

“……Thank You, Sans,” he says eventually, somewhat meekly.

He half-wants to apologize again that Sans had to see that, but he holds himself back. Sans never accepts those apologies anyway, shrugs them off and points out all the times Papyrus has done the same for him, and there’s no point rehashing that old chestnut.

Not when there are…much bigger fish to fry.

“forget about it.”

Papyrus sure would like to!

But he knows how very much ‘not over’ this conversation is, and sure enough, Sans keeps talking.

“just tryin’ to see if we’re on the same page here, don’t… don’t freak out again, but……that was about you wantin’ to smooch my human, yeah?”

Papyrus winces and can’t hold back the apology this time. “I’m…I’m Really, Truly Sorry, Sans,” he says desperately. “I Never Meant To… And Of Course, I Would Never Want To Come Between The Two Of You, You… You Make Each Other So Happy! And That Makes Me Happy, So…Please, Can We Just…Never Bring This Up Again?”

Sans frowns and Papyrus tries to talk faster.

“I’ll…! I’ll Get Better At Hiding It! You Were Never Supposed To Notice In The First Place, And—……��

A horrible thought occurs to Papyrus.

You and Sans talk about everything.

Everything.

“Oh Stars, Do… Do They Know, Too?”

Sans shrugs.

Of all the inane things to do!

“yeah?” he admits, almost like it’s a question. “i mean…we talked about it, so…yeah.”

Wonderful!

Papyrus bites back a moan of humiliated despair, forcing himself to smile instead.

“Of Course They Do!” he chirps. “I’ll Have To Move Cross-Country To Escape The Shame Of This, That’s Cool!” He takes a step forward. “I Guess I’ll Go Start Packing My Things!”

Sans catches his arm before he can get any further.

“whoa, whoa, whoa,” he chuckles, “let’s…can we slow down a sec? you’re, like…pole-vaulting to conclusions here, Pap, can we…actually talk about it, or…?”

The suggestion soundly throws Papyrus off his footing.

“I’m…Not Sure What There Is To Talk About,” he admits. “I’m A Terrible Brother And I’ve Fallen For Your Datemate. Ugh, No,” he corrects, “Worse—Your Spouse.”

“and…what’s bad about that?”

………

Well, that just stuns Papyrus silent.

“they’re…cute an’ sweet an’ honestly, probably the best human i ever met,” Sans says. “i get the attraction.” He laughs a little. “trust me, Pap, i get it—i married ‘em, i’ll be the first to tell ya’ they’re the best. ain’t it kinda…natural? that you’d like ‘em, too?”

If Papyrus were wearing pearls, he feels like he’d be clutching them about now.

“‘Natural’?” he echoes.

Sans just smiles at him. “‘cause you’re the best, too, bro.”

“……Oh, Shut Up, Sans!” Papyrus snaps. “Now Is Not The Time To Say…Very Nice, Flattering Things About Me! I’m A Home-Wrecker, I’m Trying To Destroy Your Marriage!”

“…are you, though?”

Papyrus looks at Sans, uncertainly.

“‘cause…if you’re tryin’ to split us up, you’re doin’ a real terrible job of it,” Sans explains. “looks like you’re just sorta…quietly havin’ feelings over here an’ supporting our relationship instead of tryin’ to make ‘em ditch the zero and get with the hero.”

“……Don’t…Call Yourself A Zero, Sans. You May Not Be A Ten, But You’re At Least A Positive Integer.”

Sans’ expression turns smug, like Papyrus had just proved his point for him.

…He sort of had.

“yeah,” he says, “s’what i thought. so, first of all…relax? nobody’s mad at’cha, bro, this is…fine.”

Papyrus scoffs. “And how can this possibly be fine?!”

“maybe ‘cause…they like you, too?”

If Papyrus had eyes, he’d be rolling them.

“Of Course They Do,” he says. “Recent…Developments…Aside, I’m An Exemplary Brother-In-Law, Of Course They Like Me!”

But Sans shakes his head. “nah, bro, nah. they like-like you.”

And those are the simple, juvenile words that flip Papyrus’ world utterly upside down.

“No!” he exclaims when they finally register in his skull, shock and dismay on their heels. “That’s The Last Thing I…! They…! They’re With You, No, This Is Terrible! How Could They?! I Thought—…Sans! Why Are You Laughing?! This Is The Farthest Thing From Funny!”

Yet Sans chortles on, like the fact that the human he married is in like-like with another skeleton doesn’t bother him at all.

“no?” he giggles. “it ain’t? this is like…funny-adjacent, dude…”

…

Alright, well now Sans is just plain not making sense!

Papyrus’ indignant confusion must show on his face, because Sans reaches up, grasping at his brother’s shoulder.

“look, Papyrus…” he says. “i love ‘em. i do. they’re, like…literally half of my whole world these days, y’know?”

Papyrus squirms a little. “I…I Know, That’s Why—”

Sans cuts him off. “but the other half is you, bro.”

Papyrus’ jaw shuts with an audible click.

“i love you. i trust you. and hey, if you wanna smooch my human sometimes, too, that’s… it’s really not gonna bother me.”

Papyrus…can’t quite believe the words he’s hearing.

…But Sans still doesn’t look like he’s lying.

Which is only more confusing.

“I… Why Aren’t You… I Don’t Understand, Aren’t You…Mad? Or…Or Jealous? What If They…Wanted To Choose?”

Sans shakes his head and that’s not nearly enough of an answer, but he catches Papyrus’ gaze with his eye-light and holds it, looking deathly serious.

“Pap…we shared souls. i know how much they love me ‘cause i felt it, and that’s…”

He trails off briefly, a soft, private smile coming over his skull.

“it ain’t goin’ anywhere,” he finishes confidently. “whatever they’re feelin’ for you too…it’s with what they feel for me, not ‘instead of’.”

It sounds too good to be true, that there could really be a world where Papyrus could be this lucky.

And despite himself, he finds his curiosity is piquing.

“How…How Do You Know They Like Me?” he asks hesitantly, but the more he talks, the less he finds himself able to shut up. “How Does That Even Come Up? Did…Did They Say Something? What, Exactly, Was Said? Or Are You Only Inferring From… Little Hints Or Cues Or Something? I Feel Like There’s A Lot Of Things Here That I Should Know, Sans, Please Tell Me Something???”

Sans is grinning in that way he does when he’s trying not to laugh and Papyrus feels his magic rushing to his cheekbones.

That was…definitely too eager, wasn’t it?

This was still Sans’ spouse they were talking about and there was Papyrus, badgering his brother like a teenager who just heard a rumor that the most popular kid in school had a crush on him.

Ugh, thoughtless! Stupid!

As if he could somehow sense the negative thoughts, Sans squeezes Papyrus’ shoulder carefully, reassuring.

“i think,” he pointedly suggests, “that maybe this is a conversation you oughta be havin’ with them.”

He’s right.

Of course he is. Sans is the laziest person Papyrus has ever known, but he’s very rarely actually wrong.

But…

The thought of you—facing you, talking to you, teetering on the cusp of this strange and impossible possibility…

Papyrus is nervous.

“sorry, bro, no excuses,” Sans says, before Papyrus can even attempt to think of any. “i’ll finish up with dinner tonight. you two gotta talk—they’re waitin’ for ya’.”

Papyrus is gently yet firmly nudged toward the doorway, out of the kitchen. He turns to say something, but Sans already has his back to him, picking up the potatoes again, and Papyrus’ words die in his nonexistent throat.

Slowly, he…starts walking.

He passes Buddy, asleep on the couch in the living room, and allows himself a second of envy for the dog, utterly oblivious to the turmoils of higher life forms.

But only a second.

That’s all he can spare just now.

You’re waiting for him.

-

…You may have gotten more absorbed in the cute little cat game on your phone than you had intended.

You had meant to be sitting there, somber yet welcoming when Papyrus (hopefully) came up to see you, and you would gently pat the mattress in invitation. He would sit and you’d have a whole touching, idyllic heart-to-heart, it would be a thing of beauty…

But he and Sans were taking an awful long time down there and you’d started getting a little…bored.

So instead of that lovely scene, what happens instead is that Papyrus throws the bedroom door open and you jump, hastily dropping your phone and blurting, “Shit, hi, hey, Pap!”

You try to adopt a casual pose, but of course you have no idea how to force that so you probably look very awkward right now.

And then…your phone meows, so you have to scoop it up, shut it off, and shove it in your pocket as fast as humanly possible.

Damn, you’re smooth.

Surprisingly, though, Papyrus just…cracks a grin at you.

It looks fond, affectionate like many of the looks he’s been giving you lately when he thought you weren’t looking, and it makes you smile back at him.

When he says your name with the same feeling, on the heels of a simple hello, you feel…

Hopeful.

Confident.

If he’s here, he wants to talk about this and that, you’re ready for.

“So…you and Sans talked?”

“…Yes,” Papyrus says. “We…We Definitely Talked.”

When that’s all he says for a long, drawn-out moment, you prompt, “……And?”

Papyrus sighs, rubbing at the back of his skull. With obvious reluctance, he admits, “I’m Considerably Confused, Honestly!”

“What about?”

He just…gestures, vaguely, at everything. It’s as if the entire universe is a source of frustration to him at the moment and he finds its gall offensive.

You hold back a laugh and finally get to do your scripted mattress pat. Papyrus takes the invitation and sits down beside you, slumping onto the bed with a huff.

“I Don’t…I Don’t Understand This,” he says. “You… You Love Sans, Don’t You?”

Well, that’s an easy question.

“Of course I do,” you answer without hesitation. “I’m, like…super in love with Sans.”

“And You………Love Me, Too…?”

You snort in amusement. “Well, duh, Pap.”

Your tone seems to give him pause…and something like a revelation.

“Ah,” he says at length. “I Get It. It Isn’t… You…Love Me As A Friend. And A Brother-In-Law.”

Papyrus actually sounds disappointed and it bolsters you to take the next step.

“Stars, Papyrus, of course I love you as those things, but… I think we both know it’s not just that? With us?”

His silence is nothing less than utterly suspicious.

So you press on.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes, Pap.” He flinches guiltily and you’re quick to reassure him, “I like it! It makes me feel like… I don’t know, like there could…be something here, if you wanted to…explore that?”

Your words only seem to confuse him again. “So You Want To… What, Date Me?”

“Do we have to put a label on it?” you wonder. “I mean…you love me, right?”

Denim blue starts to glow all along Papyrus’ skull.

“I! Well, That’s! Something Of A Strong… Uh, Not That I Don’t! I… I’m… Obviously, I………”

His rushed and flustered words trail off and you let them.

That jumbled mess of a sentence may not have said anything, but at the same time, you’re…pretty sure it said everything.

You smile, just a pinch teasingly, and say, “And…you’d love me whether anything actually happened with us or not…right?”

On that one, Papyrus doesn’t waver for even second.

“Yes,” he says firmly. “Of Course.”

Your grin widens.

“I feel the same.”

Papyrus looks at you like… well, like he isn’t sure he believes you, like it can’t possibly be that simple…

But it is.

“Papyrus, aside from Sans,” you explain, “you’re my absolute best friend. We have fun together and…and I really care about you and honestly, the last time I felt like this about somebody, it was just a few weeks out from the first time I kissed my husbone.”

Papyrus makes a face at the terrible pun, just like you knew he would, and you laugh.

The slightly-betrayed disgust on his skull is a much better look for him than anxious uncertainty.

“Pap,” you say seriously, “it is…totally okay if this is too weird for you and you’d feel better just forgetting about this whole thing. You’ll still be my friend and the best brother-in-law a human could ever have, that won’t change— ever.”

You reach out, settling your hand on the bed between you. You don’t touch him, not yet, but you feel like he should see you offering; putting yourself out there first.

“But…if you want to give this a try… maybe turn our dog-dates into…y’know, actual dates, see if romance is a thing that works, for us… Then, I’m here.”

You’re not psychic.

You have no idea what must be going through Papyrus’ skull right now as he stares down at you, looking stunned.

But if you could read minds, you might be knocked flat by the force of his awe.

Papyrus is marveling at you, honestly dumbstruck.

He thinks that the human heart is truly an incredible thing— it’s a small muscle, weighing less than a pound, and yet it pumps two thousand gallons of blood a day, beats seven-hundred thousand times a week, and in just a few short years…

It can come to hold enough love for two skeletons who’ve been through hell and come out the other side.

But you’re not psychic.

So all you see is a kind of determination coming over Papyrus’ face and then he’s reaching out, ever so slowly settling his hand atop yours.

It’s huge, dwarfing your fingers entirely when your turn your hand over so you can properly hold it. His bones are spindly; smooth and cool to the touch, like pearl or marble.

You like the feeling against the skin of your palm so you squeeze his hand, chancing a look up at him.

Papyrus still looks a touch nervous, as if he’s not sure that this is something he’s really, truly allowed to do.

You can fix that.

With your other hand, you reach up, fingertips grazing the side of his jaw.

“Papy…can I kiss you? Would that be okay?”

The blue returns to his cheeks and he swallows audibly. You’re still not sure how that works without a throat, but you’re pretty used to physics-and-reality-defying skeletons by now, so when he nods, you don’t ask any more questions.

You pull him down at the same time you lean up and gently, carefully press your lips to his teeth.

He’s…still, at first, stiff against you in probably the most one-sided kiss you’ve ever been a part of…but it doesn’t last.

After a moment, Papyrus nuzzles at you, just a little bit, and you find yourself smiling against his mouth.

You angle your head and keep peppering itty-bitty smooches along his teeth and jaw and the more you give him, the more his hesitance starts fade.

Boldness suits Papyrus far better.

He squeezes your hand in his while the other comes up to wrap around your shoulder, holding you still so he can nuzzle you more firmly.

Not that you were going anywhere—you can feel the passion behind each warm, affectionate movement and it sparks a thrill in your chest.

It’s… it’s good and nice and as much as you like it, you can’t quite believe it’s happening.

…And neither can Papyrus, apparently, because he abruptly jerks back from you.

His eye-sockets are wide behind his glasses and the two of you stare at each other for a moment, just…processing.

That happened.

You kissed.

The world is still in one piece and you…

You don’t regret it.

You don’t think Papyrus does, either, but you get the sense that it was just a bit too fast, for right now; that he might still need a little time to get used to the idea of…this.

And that’s fine, too.

You smile with just a hint of flirtiness. “Not bad for your first kiss, huh?”

His brother may be the comedian, but you know damn well that Papyrus knows a set-up for a line when he hears one and he doesn’t disappoint.

He smirks at you and says, “What On Earth Makes You Think That Was My First Kiss?”

It’s suave and over-the-top and probably a lot bolder than Papyrus actually feels right now, but it makes you laugh, anyway.

You have no idea, but the sound makes Papyrus’ soul sing and he understands now, intimately, how Sans must’ve fallen in love with you.

You make everything seem so easy.

-

You keep it easy, too, when the very next thing you do is get up and tug Papyrus along with you by the hand.

You tell him that it smells like dinner’s about ready and that the two of you should probably go check on Sans and see if he needs any help setting the table.

Papyrus recognizes it for exactly what it is—sort of an out, but without denying the thing that the two of you just started, and he’s grateful for it.

It’s funny, in a way, but Papyrus never really understood the concept of ‘going slow’ before, at anything.

Why wait when you know what you want to do? Why drag your feet when you know your feelings? What point is there in hesitating?

But this…this just feels like the kind of thing where slow is… good.

And for once, Papyrus feels like he’s okay with that.

Sans doesn’t seem to need any help when the two of you reach the dining room, three plates already out and Buddy’s bowl in hand to join them.

It’s a struggle for Papyrus not to pull his hand out of yours when Sans looks up, as if you were doing something you weren’t supposed to.

But when his brother’s eye-light falls on your joined hands, the expression that comes across his face is a smile.

There’s no other way to describe it except ‘beaming.’

Echoing you, Sans asks, “you talked?”

From Papyrus’ side, you chime, “Yep! All good,” and somehow, Sans manages to look happier.

You only let go of Papyrus’ hand to go over and give Sans an adorably saccharine kiss and as the three of you (and your dog) sit down together for dinner, Papyrus is struck by how utterly…normal it all is.

The casserole is normal, the same thing they have every Thursday night. Buddy finishes his kibble much faster than everyone else eats and passes the time staring beseechingly at all the other plates, like he always does. You and Sans are even telling terrible, lazy, cliché jokes trying to make Papyrus either laugh or scowl, whichever comes first, and that’s par for the course.

And Papyrus is sparing glances at you, thinking about how wonderful you are…and that’s…normal, too.

It’s normal and it’s okay.

“…Papyrus?” you seem to say suddenly, looking a tad concerned. “You really don’t have anything to say about that?”

You must’ve said a particularly horrific pun that Papyrus hadn’t heard.

Feeling bold, though, he shrugs. “I’m Sorry, Sunshine, I Wasn’t Listening, I Was Too Busy Getting Lost In Your Eyes.”

Your brows shoot up, color creeping across your cheeks as your gorgeous eyes go wide. You can’t seem to think of anything to say in response, too flustered for a witty retort and Papyrus feels his soul swell with pride.

He’s even prouder when Sans laughs, loud and genuine, and pokes at you a little.

“Pap’s right, ya’ know,” he coos at you. “eye really see what he means.”

“If You’re Going To Turn My Flirtatious Comments Into Puns,” Papyrus retorts, “You Could At Least Be A Little More Creative About It! I Swear, Sans, Your Jokes Are Getting Cornea By The Day!”

Your mouth drops open in surprise that Papyrus actually busted out a pun, but there’s a happy sparkle in your gaze and not even Sans’ imminent, lazy pun-recycling can ruin that for him.

“…heheheheheh, oh my god… oh my god, i’m so proud right now, Pap, you’re…you’re really a man after eye own heart…!”

Papyrus gives you and Sans his most put upon expression. “Irisk My Dignity Any Day To Make Our Human Smile, Sans! I Shouldn’t Have To Tell You How Blindingly Beautiful They Are When They Do.”

Sans’ grin widens.

“nah, that goes without sayin’,” he says and your flush deepens.

“Oh my god,” you mutter, sounding almost dismayed. “Is this my life now? Are you guys just gonna flirt at me for the rest of forever and try to make me blush?”

Papyrus and Sans share a considering look across the table, and their answer comes in unison.

“yeah, pretty much.”

“Probably, Yes!”

You cover your face a bit, but you’re laughing as you dramatically groan, “What have I done…” and Papyrus feels…

Pretty damn good!

Janine is going to be insufferably smug next week, but he’s really not the worst brother in the world, after all.

Papyrus is just a normal skeleton with a great job, a handsome dog, a lazy brother, and an adorable human—and he loves it all.

Optionally canon postscript to Fur a Good Time, Call…  

A/N: Maybe Sans is your one and only true love and that's fine but for all the Papyrus-smoochers out there disappointed that they didn't get to romance both brothers... Now, you do! ;3

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BODY AND SOUL Part 19 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: At 49 pages this part is decidedly the MOST EXTRA OF THEM ALL thus far, though I suspect the Gala chapter(s?) will be even longer. I’ve realized the duality of the chapters has made it so I have to cram everything I want to be from one of their perspectives into any given part, but, like, who cares, right? I’M AN AMERICAN AND MORE IS BETTER! I thought of Pilar as Ecuadorian from the outset, the Virgen di Quito is a local deity related to the Virgin Mary--I don’t think she has an effigy at the Basilica, but I stretched reality a little bit there; she reminded me of Billie somehow, and I like comparing Kenzie to feminine deities--she has that vibe to people. Here’s the version of CRYSTAL Samuel is playing on their way home; one of my favorite love songs ever, and my favorite of the various versions ‘Mac has recorded over the years. Agent Provocateur boxes are very distinct and look like this. The hanging lights in Duncan’s bathroom look like this. Here’s Kenzie shampoo (I use their hair holding spray, their stuff smells AMAZING). I found Kenzie’s peony glass! She has the other ones too, the peony one just happened to be the one she grasped first that day at her apartment, and now Duncan is wildly attached to it. Had to include some avocados in this part as a nod to Cody’s avocado obsession. Here’s Duncan’s Keurig. Adelaide’s silver tray looks like this, her little bowls with dogberries look like this. THE ECSTASY OF ST. THERESA is a sculpture I’ve loved for a long time. ARIADNE is also listed as being owned by a private collector, and as Bacchus/Dionysus’ wife, it seemed only fitting to me that Duncan would desire it as a gift for Kenzie, a companion piece to THE YOUTH OF BACCHUS, as it were. Duncan remembering Marissa Montague (my Madison/Emma AU) laying there like lead, checking her phone while he tried to kiss her is an homage to Emma’s character Chanel Oberlin in SCREAM QUEENS doing that exact thing--Marissa is indeed asexual in my AU, though she would never admit that publicly, and she has no real interest in sex, only in money and fame, thus her lingering interest in Duncan--she will indeed be at the Gala, and she will indeed try to corner Kenzie. Claire’s dog Snicky/Snickerdoodle looks like this, we’ll meet him eventually. The photo of Kenzie on Claire’s shoulders is based on a real one of Billie and Leslie here and the caption I put on it mirrors Leslie’s. Kenzie’s story about volunteering for a woman who did horse therapy for kids is based on me doing that exact thing in high school, and Kenzie’s dream of having a garden house with room for horses is my dream (I, like her, miss being around horses terribly). A reminder that this is the sleeping set, this is the white tulle lingerie, and this is the rose choker (ugh, I want it). If you’re a person with a vagina and you’ve never used one of these (the kind Kenzie--and I--have), y’all...I can’t recommend that shit highly enough--Diah ( @impiorumrequies ), Kenzie keeping her vibrator in a fake copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray is for you, lol. Here’s Duncan’s balmorals, his chinos, his shirt, his sunglasses. I’m glad I could finally put some sexting in this chapter, that stuff was fun. Here’s the dress Annette’s wearing when Duncan disses her. Here’s Kenzie’s crop top, here’s her skirt. The peonies look like this (but Kenzie’s are real, of course). Here’s the gold vases. Here’s Duncan’s Waterford wine glasses (god, I love those). His kanso knives. His wok. It was important to me that Duncan had taught himself to cook, and to cook WELL, anxious to be independent from Annette--I said this before but men who can’t are a turnoff, being useless isn’t hot, it’s stupid and annoying. Here’s the recipe for the quinoa fried “rice”. Here’s the tutorial I based Duncan’s dumplings on. I had Kenzie choose Bowie’s LET’S DANCE while they made dinner as I’ve always found Bowie to be an aphrodisiac (and TMI lmao but I’ve had sex to that album and...it was great)--Kenzie’s singing along to MODERN LOVE, the first track. Regarding the sex, it was very important for me to strike the delicate balance between sexual domination and Kenzie’s autonomy--please note how Duncan consistently checks in with her throughout the entire thing, following directions, and paying attention to her reactions and needs. It’s deeply important to me that all of the sexuality in this story is centered around the deep, true love they feel for each other, grounded in personhood, autonomy, and mutual respect, and it’s important to me that you, my beloved readers, understand that too. Thanks--as always--for reading. Thank you for your love for them and your affection towards me.

Duncan kissed Kenzie’s cheek gently from where she was sleeping against him in the plane seat, breathing in the saltiness of the sea still in her hair, the sweetness of her skin; she stirred a little, a tiny moaning sigh falling from her lips, but she didn’t wake. Pat had landed the plane a few minutes before; Pilar had already opened the plug door and was handing bags to someone beyond his eyesight (maybe Samuel), but Duncan continued to watch Kenzie’s serene face, looking down at the half-halos of her eyelashes, the aureate crown of her hair. Back to reality tomorrow, back into the jaws of the paps and my mother and the world outside. Wish we could just stay here and I could watch her sleep, deep into the night. Duncan felt tired himself; tired at the prospect of the week to come more than anything, the responsibility of it pressing into his psyche. Meetings all day tomorrow, interviews on Tuesday and Wednesday, an audience with the President on Thursday, the Gala on Friday. And our getaway in the woods still so far off.

Kenzie felt so small and delicate under his arm; Duncan wondered vaguely if he could carry her into the car without waking her, but as he unbuckled her seatbelt and tried to carefully pull her under his grasp, her eyes fluttered open and she leaned forward, hand coming against her cheek as if to wipe away an imaginary tear.

“Baby, we’re back in DC. It’s time to go home. Did you have another dream?” Duncan let his hands fall against her knees, studying the confusion in her eyes.

“Yeah,” Kenzie breathed in a tiny voice, eyes falling down, falling on her beach bag, which she scooped up with a sleepy hand. “I was in a bathtub this time. I was fully clothed, in a bathtub...I was sobbing with blood running down from my eyes, and Candice was holding my face and speaking softly into my ear as I cried and screamed--I knew someone was going to die but I couldn’t stop it, I had to stay with her, I had to let them die. God, these dreams don’t make any fucking sense, baby. I hate them. Why was I in a bathtub?”

“Maybe we really should go see a clairvoyant or something.” Duncan stood, reaching for her hand. Kenzie gripped it and stood herself, swaying a little, still half-asleep. He pulled her gently down the aisle, her beach hat in his hand, his body full of tenderness, wishing he could have carried her to the car in his arms. Kenzie yawned rather than answering--he watched her and wanted to hug her against him. He thought suddenly of the man who had gotten into the Post building and almost hurt her. My poor baby, and she has to go back there tomorrow. She should take a day or two off. I wonder if I could convince her.

They reached Pilar; it had been Samuel she’d been handing bags to, and now he was taking the beach blanket, the last thing left. He smiled at them, his very white teeth flashing in his dark face. “Kissed by the sun today, I see.”

“It was a perfect day,” Kenzie murmured, and Duncan watched her face again, her eyes low and tired, her expression sleepy and nostalgic. “Thank you for moving our bags, Samuel. And thank you for the drinks, Pilar. I love you both very much.”

Pilar and Samuel both laughed a little, and Duncan grinned at them. Isn’t she an angel. I think so too. She’s so kind and lovely to everyone. She’s the one I love most in the world.

Samuel turned back to the steps with the blanket clutched under his arm as Pilar turned to Kenzie and grasped her little hand, smiling down at her. “It was a pleasure for me to make them for you, preciosa. Your aura...is very powerful. Like La Virgen de Quito. I used to look at her image in the Basilica del Voto Nacional when I was a girl, used to pray to her that she’d find me a beautiful boy to love.” She laughed a little, then her face grew serious again. “I wanted to say that...you remind me of her, mami. It was my honor to meet you today.”

Kenzie’s expression had become a bit more alert at Pilar’s words; suddenly, she leaned forward and put her arms around the older woman, and Duncan could see the shock on Pilar’s face--then a warm, serene expression came into her eyes, and she closed them and brought her arms around Kenzie’s small body and held her for a moment before they broke apart. Duncan’s heart felt heavy with emotion, watching them--he couldn’t help but feel as though Kenzie had blessed Pilar somehow with this action, as if she were a healer touching someone who was sick, or a mother touching a child, though Pilar was the one who was older and more motherly. To be near her is to be blessed. To be held by Kenzie is to be touched by her gold. I know that because I’ve felt it too--I’ve been blessed by her again and again and my heart is so full of her light I have to share it, I can’t keep it all to myself. She’s Persephone, scattering flower petals wherever she walks.

“Thank you for everything today, Pilar,” he said, and he could see the tiny pricks of tears glistening in her eyes. “Claro, miho. You know I love you very much.” She leaned across to hug him, too--Duncan’s arm came around her, feeling warm and dizzy. I know how you feel, he thought to her. I never know how to describe how wonderful Kenzie is, either, but it’s like she is literally an angel, and we’re all lucky just to be close to her. Pilar laughed a little against him, as if embarrassed at her own sudden emotions, then let go of him and stepped away, waving goodbye to them. “Buenos noches, vida bellas.” Then she turned away; Duncan could still see the tears glimmering in her eyes, and he knew innately that she suddenly wanted to be alone. He pulled Kenzie gently through the plug door and down the steps, the evening air cascading against them suddenly--the sun was setting to the northwest, far on the horizon that faced them, falling into a skyline that was going dark with indigo, bleeding into dappled orange and rose. He turned to look up at her as he stepped down ahead, their hands still clutched together, her hat pressed gently under his arm; the wind blew her hair against her cheek, the sunset falling in a gauze, like a veil, over her eyes, turned down to watch her feet on the steps, ungainly in her sleepiness, the tiny gold necklaces at her throat glinting in the shadow. Saint Mackenzie, patron of lost souls, bringer of light and golden love. Bringing deer back from the dead. Bringing tears into the eyes of her faithful followers. Kissing flowers into my lungs.

He helped Kenzie into the car; she let him, not speaking, but he got a tiny burst of her thoughts; I really don’t want to go to the office tomorrow, god, I’m scared now, I’m scared the minute someone leaves me alone at my desk for a minute someone’s going to come and try to rip my arm out or kidnap me or something and he slid in beside her and snapped the door shut, nodding to Samuel in the rearview. He could hear Stevie Nicks low on the sound system tonight--her voice lowered and deepened by time, enriched by the glow of the sunset in this moment. I turned around, and the water was closing all around...like a glove, like the love that had finally, finally found me...and I knew, in the crystalline knowledge of you...as Samuel drove away, he turned to Kenzie, watching her face--she looked out the window, her fingers twined atop his in the middle of the BMW’s backseat, and he could see that her cheeks were just the tiniest bit sunburnt, at the stretch of her face below her eyes. She was singing along softly under her breath, and he ached at the sound of it--the sincere lilt of her beautiful voice. How the faces of love have changed, turning the pages...and I have changed, oh, but you, you remain ageless…

“Baby...I think, maybe, you should take tomorrow off from work,” he said to her, gently, as the car turned onto I-66. “I know...you’re still upset about what happened on Friday, and you have every right to be. That was traumatic for you, and no one should expect you to get over it right away. I think...this week was so much…” He watched Kenzie’s eyes flutter closed as he said this. Yes, baby, so much. It’s been so fucking much. “It would...it would give you a chance to settle in at home. Sleep...have a day to yourself...put all your things where you want them. What do you think, Kenzie?”

She was quiet for a long moment (drove me through the mountain...through the crystal like a clear water fountain…) and then she nodded a little. “I’d like to do that, I think,” she said softly, almost whispering. Duncan moved his thumb carefully over her hand, loving the bumps of her little knuckles, the softness of her skin beyond them, the rise of her wrist bone. “Okay, baby. I think I will.”

“Ben wants to do that interview on Tuesday, so I’ll be with you at work the next day, too.”

She turned to him, and the smile of relief in her eyes fell against his heart with a hard pressure. He could feel her thoughts immediately drift into calm; could feel her hand relax under his, and she moved closer to him, dipping her head down to the crook under his arm. Her spot. Duncan thought of what he’d found on the Sotheby’s website while she’d been sleeping on the plane--in a few week’s time, Waterhouse’s Ariadne would be going up for auction. He thought of the lines from Edith Hamilton’s book, the one he’d read over and over as a child: Some time during his wanderings, Dionysus came upon the princess of Crete, Ariadne, when she was utterly desolate, having been abandoned on the shore of the island of Naxos by the Athenian prince, Theseus, whose life she had saved. Dionysus had compassion upon her. He rescued her, and in the end loved her. When she died Dionysus took a crown he had given her and placed it among the stars. In the painting, Ariadne sat languidly upon a chaise, her face turned upward in serene repose, a leopard sleeping beneath, another standing near the end of the seat where lavender robes were gathered under her. Ariadne’s right breast was bare, her other covered by a crimson robe over one shoulder, knees gathered together, long flowers growing around her. In the distance there was a ship, sailing into the pink horizon away from a white dock, and bushes of white flowers. Dionysus comes from reveling and finds his Ariadne, and knows she will be his starlight, his moon, his sun and every spinning celestial planet in the sky. He thought of the way she stared at The Youth of Bacchus, wanted to look into it as they fucked, touched by eroticism. Duncan’s hands trailed languidly through Kenzie’s hair, still feeling of sea salt and the last of the sun. Ariadne will be for you and you alone, my love, and we’ll hang it in the empty space in our bedroom, and it will always be your face to me, turned up in sweet sleep. Only unlike the wine god to his bride, I have not saved you. You have saved me.

Duncan opened his phone as Kenzie breathed quietly into him (Stevie was singing another song now and it floated into his ears: well one more night I’d like to lie and hold you, yes, and feel…); the drive back from the airport would take half an hour, and if Kenzie wanted to sleep for the rest of the ride, he was determined to let her use him for a pillow. He gazed down at the photos they’d taken today--he smiled looking at the one of Kenzie in her little bikini, the embarrassed expression of happiness in her eyes. Princess Kenzie. It currently had over 700,000 likes and 6,000 comments. He scrolled down, looking through some of them.

I wish I was this skinny, maybe I could get a billionaire to date me too

She’s not a Princess she’s a QUEEN an ANGEL a GODDESS (Yes, she is.)

I’m going to frame their wedding pictures and hang them in my house

How is anyone this pretty honestly

DUMP HER FOR @marissamontague ALREADY (Pfft, never a fucking chance in a million years, honey, Duncan thought. I’m sure she’ll be at the Gala and she better not try to sink her claws into Kenzie. He noticed Marissa had liked the comment and made a face. Ugh. It’s not just her fans who are strange. She’s insane. Fuck off, Marissa. He thought of the one time they’d almost slept together with mild disgust, how she’d laid there as if she were made of lead--even reached for her phone at one point--until he climbed off of her after a few minutes, aghast. Duncan was relatively sure Marissa was actually asexual, though he doubted she’d realized that herself--and that her main motivation in the dating world was optics: the richest, most successful potential boyfriend was the one she was most interested in.)

If they did a photoshoot together I think I’d go into cardiac arrest (Now there’s an idea,  Duncan thought, and made a mental note to talk to his PR.)

BUY HER MORE DIAMONDS DUNCAN (That I will do.)

#DUCKENZIE 4 LIFE #DUCKENZIE 4 EVA

JOIN THE OFFICIAL #DUCKENZIE FAN CLUB AT DUCKENZIEFANS.COM (Jesus, okay. We have a fan club now. Can’t look at that right now.)

He noticed Claire (@clairebear) had left a comment on it: a long line of heart-eye emojis and lipstick stains. Same, Claire, same, he thought, liking her comment and going to her profile, hitting the follow button. He scrolled down Claire’s photos (lots were of food and designs on coffee drinks and a miniature boxer puppy who seemed to be named Snickers/Snickerdoodle/Snicky or some variation thereof, selfies, and fashion/glamour shots of models and couture from her job with Morgan Winthrop), liking several of them, until he came to one of her with Kenzie up on Claire’s shoulders, both of them laughing as Kenzie seemed to be falling, leaning down over Claire’s head. I mean sure why not @kenzielouwho the caption said. Duncan grinned at it--every time he saw a new picture of her it was like his heart wanted to burst out of him and start flying around his head. He liked it and left three black heart emojis on it.

Duncan scrolled through his email for awhile, thinking over the week to come--Ben’s interview with him the day after tomorrow, another harrowing day after that, no doubt, devoted to Annette on Wednesday. He thought of the task before him on Thursday, to try to gain Claire Underwood’s trust. No easy task when Annette has done everything she can to try to scare the President into legislation rather than negotiation. Something tells me her “breakdown” isn’t what it appears to be at first glance. And of course the Gala on Friday. I still need to decide what I’m wearing, shit. I should ask Kenzie to choose for me--I want my look to compliment hers, but she said she wants it to be a surprise after all. Duncan’s phone vibrated in his hand. A text from Mom.

Your Uncle had a consultation over the weekend. The cancer is moving more rapidly than the doctors had hoped and they expect him to be bedridden in a month’s time. I will be talking to him about his Will this week, after the Gala. You were completely out of bounds to tell Mackenzie about our plans for Shepherd Unlimited going forward. I expect you to use more discretion in the future and leave her out of business dealings. We have two interviews scheduled for Wednesday, one with Forbes and one with Vanity Fair. She’s expected at both. I will do most of the talking.

Leave her out of our business dealings. Duncan went out of his texts, not answering. Once I’m primary shareholder, Mom, she’s going to be intimately involved in our business dealings, she’s going to be making executive decisions for the fucking business on the board with Madeline and you’re going to have to accept it and stop being so selfish and let something generous into your heart for once. We’re going to change it. I’m going to change the Shepherd legacy--not through blood but by the desire to do something good. Samuel told me to let my heart guide me, and Kenzie’s going to help me, and that’s what I’m fucking going to do.

Duncan wondered, idly, if Kenzie wanted children. He never had, despite knowing it was something his mother expected eventually--the world, he’d always thought, was no kind place for children. And he still didn’t want to have kids, even though Kenzie was here now--it didn’t feel like their Fate, not like meeting each other hand, not like being together seemed to be. We’re still not really sure how this telepathy thing works, he thought, hand gently trailing over the bottom of Kenzie’s ear as her cheek rested on the right breast of his beach shirt. But what I feel from her is that she doesn’t want them, either. I know she has a birth control implant in her arm, but I can’t remember when we talked about that. Maybe we didn’t. Maybe I just know because I heard what she was thinking. And maybe that’s how I know she doesn’t want kids, either. Not now, and not ever. She wants to write, be a good journalist, and spread her passion for life to as many people as she can. And now I want to do that too--spread happiness as far as I can, to the people who are already here. If we can reshape the Foundation, we can make it into something that can help people for generations, even after we’re gone. And we can do that without having kids of our own.

But we should talk about it. I want to be sure that she’s sure. And I want her to know that I’m sure. Maybe tomorrow, when we’re not so sleepy. Maybe tomorrow.

It was fifteen minutes later when Samuel glided up to the sidewalk in front of the penthouse, hopping out of the driver’s seat to start unloading the baskets and beach gear from the trunk. Kenzie had stirred herself awake a few minutes before this time, and she was yawning again, running a hand through her sun-dried hair, leaning up to Duncan to kiss him, sleepy-eyed. “I don’t know why I’m so tired,” she murmured. “I do,” Duncan said, grinning, “Too much sex.” Kenzie slapped his chest, lightly, gasping. “Probably true.” She slipped out of the car before he could catch her, grabbing one of the baskets from Samuel’s hand before he could protest, skipping down the sidewalk into the high-rise’s foyer. Duncan shook his head, grasping the towels and beach blanket and shutting the trunk, smiling at Samuel, who was laughing after her. “That girl is like a little comet,” Samuel said, and Duncan was struck by the image of her flying across a sky full of stars--he saw her wings and halo again, the ones he’d seen in his dream, and they were dazzling to recall. My little firefly.

Jerry swung the door open for him and Samuel and Duncan nodded to him. Kenzie had stopped at the front desk to talk to Anchaly; Anchaly was leaning down to her conspiratorially, telling her something, and Kenzie’s face was blushing, looking back at Duncan as he came toward her. “Anchaly says there are boxes for me upstairs,” she said, turning to Duncan. “You have to stop buying me things.”

“Never,” Duncan said, shaking his head, glancing at Anchaly, who was looking between them with delighted interest. “Get used to it, Kenz.”

“Mr. Shepherd, Mackenzie--the chandelier hook was installed today while you were away.”

Kenzie looked at Anchaly with a puzzled expression, then a dawning realization came over her face and she turned to Duncan for a long moment, her eyes spinning with flecks of gold, then she turned again and thanked Anchaly, smiled at him sweetly (you little sneak, baby, he heard her thought), waved goodbye to the man and went to the elevator, leaning against it to hold it open for Duncan whose arms were full. She gazed up at him as he looked down at her, moving inside; then she reached for the other picnic basket from Samuel’s hand and leaned up to the much taller, older man; he leaned down, hesitatingly, and Kenzie kissed his cheek. Samuel’s huge, very white smile fell over his handsome face, and he stepped backward out of the elevator. Duncan watched Samuel’s hand come up to his cheek where Kenzie had pressed her little lips, and the expression in his eyes was bright with emotion as the doors slid shut. Everyone loves her so much. Our Kenzie. Our angel. I’m so grateful. I need everyone’s help to protect her. To keep her safe, no matter what. Nothing like Friday can happen to her again. He lost himself in the devolving swirl of his thoughts for a moment until Kenzie came up against him as the elevator climbed, looking directly into his eyes, her head turned up, her little arms pressing into his sides, her little breasts pressing into his stomach, making warmth pool there.

“What did you get me, baby,” she whispered, raising her eyebrows, her eyes huge and jade-chocolate under her long eyelashes, her little mouth open to him.

“You’ll see.”

“Tell me,” she whined. “Is it a pony?”

“Not a pony.”

“But I want a pony, baby.” She pouted, and he could see the indecorous smile she was trying to hide.

“Then I’ll get you a pony. But I don’t know where we’ll keep her.”

“At my garden house, of course. The house I’ll have someday in the country, with a greenhouse, and verdant fields of flowers, and a garden, and a bonfire pit, and magic in every corner.”

“Kenzie, baby...is that what you want?”

“I’ve always wanted it. I’ve dreamt about my green country house for as long as I can remember dreaming about anything.” She sighed against him. “To have a place to steal away from everything and grow things and eat the things I grew from my own garden, and write something and sleep under a dozen quilts with rain falling outside my window. And keep a pony. Or maybe a few ponies.” She was grinning at him now, and he loved her little teeth, wanted to press his finger along them, wanted to devour her mouth. “For a few summers during high school I helped this friend of Momby’s, she owns a charity that does horse therapy for kids with mental handicaps. We’d take care of the horses and clean their stalls and she’d let us ride them. They’re so sweet and so big and they have these huge beautiful eyes and ears and they’d eat apples out of my hand. One was named Foxglove and he was dappled and he was the most beautiful horse I’ve ever seen and he was as sweet as honey, so gentle and quiet. I’ve liked horses ever since and....I miss being around them.” Suddenly, Kenzie seemed to grow shy, seemed to remember the opulent gold elevator they were rising in, seemed to remember that they were going to Duncan’s huge penthouse, and that she was no longer ordinary Kenzie Stone, but Mackenzie Stone, girlfriend of billionaire Prince Duncan Shepherd. She stepped back from him, looking away, and Duncan’s heart clenched.

“Look at me, baby.” Her eyes came back into his, confused, unsure. “I told you I was going to give you anything you wanted. I want you to tell me everything. Your hopes and dreams. Your desires. So please--tell me everything. I want to hear all of it.” The elevator opened; Kenzie slid away, shyly looking down again from his eyes, smiling through the blush that had spread over her cheeks. Duncan followed her to the penthouse door, his arms full of the remnants of their beach day, and pressed his face to the side of her ear as she fumbled for her key. The door swung open and she suddenly turned and pressed her mouth up into his and Duncan dropped everything he was holding and his hands came around her to clutch her little body against him. He could feel how tired she was--it licked at his mind as he pressed her into him, how exhausted she felt, her body and her heart and her mind lost in a sort of fog, a low shadow of overwhelmed, washed-out color. He picked her up under her thigh and at her waist, the better to lift her mouth up into him, and Kenzie wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips as he brought her inside, hitting the light switch to the diamond chandelier with the crook of his elbow, setting her down, light as a feather, on the obsidian island. He could see the telltale hint of pink from the corner of his eye--he glanced there from where Kenzie’s lips were still pressed into his and she pulled back from him, also having noticed.

“Dunny, oh my god,” she whispered. There were four boxes in all, neatly stacked atop one another--Agent Provocateur was visible along the box at the top, in swirling gold script, black ribbon on the top corner and the bottom right, tied in a bow. Duncan let go of her and brought the first box over to her where she sat on the island’s edge, her feet dangling a few feet above the floor; she held the box in her lap as he knelt down to untie her sandals, and he looked up into her eyes to see her swallowing nervously, her eyes glittering inside his.

“Open them, please?” Her first sandal came undone in his long hand, and Duncan leaned his mouth to her bare ankle again--the marks these shoes had left were not nearly as dark as the one that night (that first night, that night I will never forget), but he kissed them just the same, loving the salty taste of her sea-drenched skin under his mouth. He watched her neck incline, her eyes close at the feeling of his lips--then Kenzie opened them again, looking down at the box, and pulled at the black ribbon, soothing it away from the box and lifting the lid. He worked at her other ankle as she gasped into it, setting the lid beside her atop the ribbon. She lifted the silky black kimono out--it shone in the light of the diamond chandelier, to where the delicate lace around its sleeves and hem fell in graceful waves.

“This is beauuuutiful,” Kenzie whispered, longingly. Duncan kissed her other ankle as the sandal came free, resisting the urge to kiss all the way up her leg, kiss between her thighs again. She’s too tired tonight. Be patient. Be content to give her these beautiful things--beautiful but not half as beautiful as she is. “Oh, Duncan, I love this. It’s so soft.” He stood up, hands falling on her knees against the wrap dress, gazing down at the kimono in her hands, smiling. “I’m so glad you like it. After I went through all your clothes I wanted to...I just wanted to buy you some beautiful things. And I felt like I had a good idea of what you would like--”

“Dunny, I love it. I’ve always wanted something like this…” Duncan could see the glittering wetness of her eyes, knew she was on the edge of tears. He soothed his hand up her thigh. She sniffed and blinked rapidly for a moment, until the threat of tears dissipated. “I’ll wear it every night.”

“Open the other ones.”

Duncan pulled the first box with the kimono gently out of her lap, then passed her the next one, soothing it against her thighs. Kenzie swallowed again, and he noticed her little fingers were trembling as she undid the ribbon. This one had the nude white lingerie in it--flowers cut out along the bare bust (your little nipples visible under the silkiness baby) and along the panties and the waistband of the suspenders, with long transparent stockings. Its silky tulle slid under her small fingers, and watching her look at it, her eyes like wet jade, made his nerves burn for her.

“Dunny,” she whispered.

“Do you like it? Is it okay?”

“Are you fucking kidding? Is it okay? It’s the most beautiful lingerie I’ve ever seen...the most beautiful I’ve ever had. Nobody has ever gotten me anything like this.”

“Baby--I’ll get you as many you want. One for every day of the year. God, you’re going to look so beautiful in it, Kenzie.” He pressed his face down to her and she kissed him with her mouth open, her hand sliding away from the tulle of the bra and coming around his jaw, fingers trailing along the shadow of his stubble. He went to kiss her more deeply, but she pulled away from him, her hand falling a little to grip the top of his throat.

“Give me the next one, baby,” she said, and the command in her tone made blood surge into his cock, made it ache for a moment with the hint of arousal. Duncan already knew they weren’t going to fuck tonight--he could see it in her eyes somehow, had felt it in the tired drift of her as he carried her inside, but she was making him a promise--the promise was tomorrow night, and he already felt a bone-deep anticipation.

The third box had the black lingerie. It was even more beautiful than it had appeared in the photos; the leaf-like lace motifs reminded Duncan of clusters of ripe grapes (Dionysus sees Ariadne in the moonlight, and is struck with longing) and the geometric artistry of its elegant shape seemed to make Kenzie’s eyes even darker--she held the suspenders up, eyes roving over the black band that would go around her waist, the spindly, criss-crossing designs that would fall on her abdomen, the black stockings on her slender legs rising up to her curvy thighs, and then she looked up at him, opening her mouth just a little. Duncan felt trapped inside her gaze--he moved back and leaned against the wall directly across from her, crossing his arms behind his back, dipping his head shyly and looking up at her from the halo of his hair falling down over his forehead.

“You like it.”

He could see the delicate hum of her breathing under her skin--see the tiny hammering vibration of her heart at her throat and between her breasts, see the tiny shivering in her shoulders and her fingers.

“Yes.”

“I can’t wait to see you in that.”

She lifted her chin and smiled at him, and the smile was full of need, and he was stunned to see its power, too--it was a smile full of power, full of her divinity. The knowledge in it struck him like the weight of a heavy hand. She knows I belong to her. And I do, baby, I do, I fucking do. Eat me, devour me, push me down into your hands where I fall to pieces under your touch, push me down between your legs and make me beg for you, tell me every need, every desire, and I will bring it to life. You’ve brought me to life and I will give you any pleasure you have long sought, for your arms only have brought the truest pleasure to me.

“Mhmm.” She didn’t say anything else, just let her fingers trail over the black tulle, not moving her eyes out of his. “And what’s that last one, baby.”

Duncan stepped over to the box and brought it to her; she stacked the one on her lap atop the others and slid her hands down his fingers, taking it from him. Duncan shivered. That’s it, baby, make me dissolve under your touch. Turn me to warm liquid, spilling down over your body.

In the last box, the sleeping set rested, neatly folded in pink and black lace, in the center--and on top of it was the rose choker. Kenzie seemed to stop breathing for a moment as she looked down at it. Then, Duncan watched her reached out her little fist and grasped it tightly, her thumb trailing over the thick black leather, her index and middle fingers gently caressing the silvery rose at the throat. Kenzie lifted it out of the box and let a harsh breath out of her body--it seemed to shake the entire room, seemed to send heavy gold waves against every surface, and Duncan felt stunned by the energy that crashed against him from her, her eyes planetary in their golden insistence towards him. You saw this, and you thought of me, didn’t you, baby, you thought of your angel, your deep red rose, blooming under your touch.

“Duncan...this is so beautiful.” Kenzie said the words with aching slowness. She trailed her little tongue over her lips and Duncan couldn’t stop the moan that escaped from between his own, quiet but insistent. She looked up at him (I see the storm in your eyes, baby, she said into him, I see that storm that wants to devour me into sweet fragments, and if you can be patient, I will give you redolent nectar, I will give you ambrosia, and soon, very soon), holding it still, and then Kenzie smiled and bit down into her lip, her immediate need crashing against him again. “You’re gonna put this on me tomorrow night while I watch you do it in our fucking mirror, baby. And then we’re gonna lose ourselves in each other.”

“Yes, Kenzie. Yes, angel. I will. We will.”

She set it down gently into the box and pulled out the sleeping set as he stepped back toward her, his hands falling down her knees again, kissing her forehead. Kenzie set the box on the counter on top of the others, and held the silky pink satin in her little fingers as Duncan gripped her waist and carefully, with aching gentleness, lifted her down from the edge of the island, so her little face was hovering at the top of his chest, and her eyes were gazing up at him, the curve of her sunburnt cheeks turned to him, the frame of her chestnut hair around her shoulders cast in the sheen of the chandelier, her feet bare. She undid the tie at her waist that held her wrap dress on her small frame, and Duncan pulled it off her shoulders, folding it over and setting it gently on the island beside the boxes.

“Take a shower with me and then let’s go to sleep, please, baby? I’m so sleepy.” She breathed the sweet words up to him, standing there in her little bikini for the last time that day, and Duncan nodded, leaning into her with his own mixture of longing and tiredness, closing his eyes, kicking his sandals off, his hands on her arms and in her hair. She gripped his fingers and pulled him into the bathroom, carefully setting the little satin pyjamas on the bed on their way through the bedroom--their eyes skirted over where the hook and bronze chain had been extended down from the high penthouse ceiling in front of the mirror, but Kenzie continued on to the bathroom, and though Duncan longed to examine it, he resolved to do it later. Plenty of time to look at it, day after day, and dream of all we can use it for. As soon as they stepped into the bathroom, the low hanging lights at their dimmest setting, Kenzie discarded her bikini in a little pile on the cold, seamless stone tiles, stepping inside the glass-doored shower as Duncan pulled his shirt and swim trunks off, stepping in behind her, reaching out to her as steam immediately began to coat the glass. Kenzie was already massaging shampoo into her long hair, scrunching up her nose in the scalding water--if only I could take a picture of this too, Duncan thought, but he knew he’d never forget it regardless. “I love the sea but fuck does it stink,” she laughed a little, and Duncan nodded, smiling into her, kissing her. She reached her soapy hands up and massaged them into his hair, kissing him back, her little tongue slipping between his teeth, then sliding away again before he could twist his own tongue against her, moving under the shower head so the soap washed away from her body, her little face turned up to the stream.

“Kenzie,” he said, thoughtful, contemplative, reaching for the bath sponge along the shower wall, squeezing jasmine soap into it, lathering it in his hands and soothing it down between her little breasts as she stood under the water. Her eyes opened a little, slitted against the pressure of the shower head, looking at him expectantly, her mouth opening to him just a little. He could see the slight dusting of hair that had begun to grow back between her legs (he fought his desire to slip his fingers against her there) and under her arms where she’d lifted them, could see the dusting of sun along her back and collarbones from the beach today.

“Mmm?” Kenzie pulled down the second bottle of Givenchy face cleanser Duncan kept in the shower and squirted some into her hand, lathering it into her face as he ran the sponge along her back, still hesitating to go on. Then he finally spoke. I guess it’ll be today and not tomorrow. It feels like the right time.

“Do you ever want children?”

Kenzie continued to rinse the wash off her face, then rubbed her hands carefully into her eyes and turned, stepping out of the shower’s stream, gripping his arms to bring him under it instead. She eased the sponge out of his fingers, squeezing more soap onto it, her wet hair, now rinsed of shampoo and conditioner, over her shoulder. She ran the sponge down his chest to the top of his groin, the soap sliding down his hips and limp cock and testicles, down his thighs. Her eyes looked up into his, and he knew her answer before she spoke--the answer he’d known already but needed reassurance for.

“No. I don’t, Duncan. Do you?”

She kept staring--she knows what I’m going to say too.

“I don’t, Kenzie. I don’t either.”

Kenzie stepped closer to him, and he watched her breathe out--a sigh of relief.

“Did we talk about this?” Duncan really didn’t know--he tried to recall the conversation, the mention of it. “I feel like I knew that, somehow--that you didn’t want to have any. But I can’t remember when you told me.”

“I don’t think we did, baby. But I think I knew it anyway, too. That you don’t want them either. Maybe it’s...maybe...we heard it? From each other? Like...like we can sometimes. ”

“I still can’t believe that. That we can do that sometimes. It’s...beyond words. Literally.” He laughed a little, then shivered as she continued to move the sponge along his arms and down his back over the rise of his ass. Kenzie playfully pinched him there with a sharp pressure and he writhed away, still laughing, coming back to her, gripping at her wrists to keep her quick little fingers away, pressing his forehead down against hers. ”You better stop that.”

“Or what.” Kenzie giggled and stuck the tip of her tongue out between her teeth at him, trying to wrestle her wrists out of his strong hands.

“Or I’m gonna push you into the glass and fuck you, Princess,” he murmured down into her mouth, his hands still pressing into the soft flesh at the bottom of her palms, feeling her heartbeat through the veins there; rapid and fluttering.

“Duncan Shepherd, I demand you let me go.”

Duncan immediately let go of her, but he could feel the expression of longing that pressed into his face. “I can’t wait to see you in that lingerie, baby. Oh my fucking god, I can’t wait.”

“Try thinking it this time. I wanna see if I can hear you. Think about how much you wanna fuck me, baby.” Kenzie spun around very slowly in the rising mist of the hot water, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder, leaning down just a little and wiggling her curvy ass towards him, straightening up and spinning back around, eyes in his. She reached out, trailing one little finger down from the dip of his collarbone to the space between his breast, down the center of his belly to his bellybutton, dipping her finger in for a moment, then letting it hover in the center of his abdomen, right above the not-entirely-limp rise of his cock. “Think about me. I wanna see if I can hear.”

Duncan stood still for a moment, shivering at the small pressure of her delicate touch, then he thought, carefully, specifically, and tried to push it into her mind, into the space behind her eyes, as he had a few nights ago, Annette between them--but Annette was not between them now, and he gripped her wrists again and pushed her, gently, back, so her shoulder blades fell softly into the fogged glass, and his hands came up around her breasts and he pressed his face down to her neck and kissed her, softly, not speaking, but pressing his feelings into her. Kenzie, I want to tie you up on that hook and lick the soft, wet, sweet space between your legs. I want to fuck your beautiful little pink cunt and your sweet little ass, fuck you until we are lost inside each other and lost in our pleasure, and I want you to come all over my cock and I wanna come inside you until our release runs down between our legs and I want you, baby, I want you all day long, every minute, as soon as we fuck I just wanna fuck you again, I wanna lose myself in your body and your eyes, Kenzie, they’re like stars hovering over a shadowed forest or the bottom of the dark sea with its green and gold relics, like the nebulas of time. Kenzie had arched into him as he went on and on--and he’d felt the push again, flowing out from him, and as he pulled his face away from his attentions at her neck to look at her, the gold flecks had seemed to emerge in her gaze and swirl there, the rings of the planets and the galaxies inside her.

“Like the nebulas of time,” Duncan saw her little mouth move, saw the whisper of his thoughts in the words she spoke. “Baby. I heard that. I heard all of that. I think when we’re touching, it gets stronger. I think that’s how it works best. We have to push and if we are touching, it’s like it’s...a stronger radio signal, or something.”

“Touch me, try me. I wanna see if I can hear you too. Tell me a secret.”

Duncan grasped Kenzie’s hand and pressed it into his chest--spread her fingers carefully so her palm was flat on him and her hand stretched gracefully. She looked up at him in the rising steam, her wet dark-golden hair flat against her head, wetness glistening on her cheeks and on her lips, her eyes still full of whirling flecks of shimmering dust. Then he felt her--felt the pressure of her, the gold cloak of her fall over his mind--it was soothing and sweet and as comforting as a soft bed in a bone-deep tiredness, and he almost felt as if he could taste her, honey and rosewater and apples.

I’ve always wanted to write a book. Something very beautiful and very true and totally mine. But I’ve always been afraid to do it. I’ve always doubted myself. But you, Duncan...you make me feel like anything is possible. That I can bring deer back to life. That I can make Annette love me. That I can write my book. That there is such a thing as a Soulmate, and there is a One for me, and it’s you, it’s you, it’s you baby, it’s you now and forever, the other half of my soul and the body that fits against my body like we’re two breathing pieces of a living puzzle. I believe in everything now. I don’t believe in luck anymore. I believe in destiny, because I’ve found mine. My destiny is you.

Duncan heard himself gasp a little as she let go, and the pressure in his mind lifted away like a tide pulling back out from shore into the sea. “Baby. Yes. I heard you. My destiny is you. You want to write a book. And you don’t believe in luck anymore. And I’m your Soulmate. And I am. And you are mine, baby. You’re mine, too. I heard you, so loud and clear, like you were whispering into my ear.” He pulled her little face against his shoulder and gripped the back of her hair, softly, in his fingers, letting them fall through it, feeling her hands come around his back, the pressure of her nose and the tickle of her eyelashes. “I heard you.” Kenzie lifted her head and looked at him and smiled, and the feeling of her against him was beyond any comfort he’d ever felt from anything else. Beloved, he thought into her, and he felt her rebound the word and wrap herself around it, the gold of her, and push it back into him, so it was echoed in her voice towards him, beloved.

Kenzie moved away from him and turned the knob of the shower. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and squeezed it out so a rivulet of hot water fell down the drain, her eyes on his feet then up over his thighs and his cock, his hands and neck and lips and eyes and his hair. “I really lucked out in the Soulmate department,” she said softly, and he felt shyness press into the back of his mind as she opened the shower door, looking back at him over her shoulder--he tried to think of something that could possibly, ever, somehow, describe the depth of his emotion for her in this moment, trying to think it into her instead, again--whatever you feel towards me, Kenzie, know that my feeling for you is equal to it, if not even greater...what I feel for you is an ocean that doesn’t have a final depth. It knows no end and it only grows with time.

“It knows no end and it only grows with time.” He heard her voice extend towards him as she pulled one of his hydrocotton bath towels down from the hook against the wall and wrapped it around her petite shoulders, her wet hair tucked into it, then reached for another and brought it over to him, clutched in her little fingers--he took it from her lovingly, his fingers falling against hers, then rubbing it down his face and through his hair as he stepped out behind her and she turned to the sink, wrapping the towel around her breasts and reaching for her toothbrush. “I heard that too, baby. I heard everything. How amazing. To feel you that way.” She turned her little face up to him as he came up beside her, sunburned and sleepy and glowing. “To feel the warmth of you inside me. It’s like nothing else I’ve ever felt, either. It’s like you’re the night sky and I’m falling up into you. Oh, baby. It’s so wonderful.”

Duncan wrapped the towel around his waist and pressed his fingers through his damp hair, pushing it back from his forehead, feeling unable to speak again. Sometimes, words just aren’t enough, my love. His emotions right now felt like a color, vast and bright, vibrating and flowing, a color that only materialized out of the ether when they were together like this--a color that belonged only to the two of them, a new color, staggering in its beauty.

“It’s okay, baby,” Kenzie said, holding her toothbrush, covered in turquoise toothpaste, pausing, seeming to recognize the depth of his affectation. “You don’t have to say anything. I can feel you. Even this way. Even confused--even...overwhelmed.” She reached her hand out and soothed it along his arm, and Duncan looked down at her, nodding, his mind clouded over with her. They both brushed their teeth without speaking, the glow still drifting between them, looking at each other carefully in the bathroom mirror, shyly looking away, and looking back again, drawn to each other like two moths to the glow of a warm light. I want to marry you, Kenzie, Duncan thought, unable to stop himself, and he saw the blush fall over her cheeks despite her sunburn as she spit into the sink, rinsing her mouth out--saw the way her eyes fell on him, glittering, consort to his thoughts, saw her rose-colored affection, the provocation his thought stirred in her. We’d have so many flowers, flowers everywhere, lilies and lilacs, roses and lavender and iris and peony, lining every pathway, flowers surrounding you like an altar, flowers in your hair and around your head and flowers for you, goddess of spring, the queen of my heart--the true gold in my life, all riches be damned. Your ring would be a moonstone, because you’re my moonlight and every star dims to you, bows its head--and I can only imagine your gown and its shivering beauty and the sight of you in it and the well of my happiness and my heart spilling over into the endless love I feel for you.

“Ugh, stop thinking such beautiful things, baby. I can’t stand it.”

“I can’t help it. It’s how I feel.”

She slid away from him as he reached across the sink for her, out of the bathroom, looking back at him. Come here. Come to bed, hold me, kiss me in the dark and fall away into sleep with me, beloved, my Prince of Shadow, aching in your beauty.

He came after her, letting his towel fall to the floor, uncaring. Kenzie was slipping the little satin sleeping set over her hips, lifting the camisole over her head, toweling her hair dry as he watched the silken fabric press against her thighs and her little breasts, her nipples visibly hard through it. He slid his hands down around her hips, impossibly smooth in the little pyjamas, standing behind her, pulling her insistently into his nakedness, his nose coming down to smell her--jasmine soap and her shampoo, like lemon and roses and lily. She turned into him, discarding her towel on the floor, too--and then he watched her eyes skirt over to where the chain hung down, glinting in the low light, from the heavy hook now expertly installed in the high penthouse ceiling, and watched her gaze through the mirror beyond it at the shape of them pressed together.

Tomorrow, she thought into him, and he looked at them too, their reflection in the great and provocative mirror that now stretched its wide eye in their room, and he was overcome again by how beautiful she looked in his arms, how small and delicate, her damp hair falling into his hands, the silky-softness of her against his belly and his arms.

“Sleep now, please, baby,” she murmured, and pulled at his hips. At first Duncan followed her, hungry and aching, but then he remembered, with a wave of disappointment, that all of their beach things were still scattered in the hallway, forgotten in the distraction of their desire. They hadn’t even bothered to eat anything for dinner, but he didn’t feel hungry somehow. I expect to be distracted for the rest of my life. If you’ll have me for that long. “Kenzie, we left everything in the hall. I have to go get it. I’ll be right back baby, I promise.” Kenzie was already laying down, looking up at him with hazy eyes, and she nodded a little, tucking her hand under her chin. Duncan pulled the duvet over her and kissed the soft space beside her eyelid, hand against her damp hair--then he went into the closet and pulled on a pair of black boxer briefs, moving through the living room (he noticed Kenzie’s roses had begun to wilt with a touch of sadness--I’ll just have to get her more, he thought) and through the kitchen, eyes skirting over the pink boxes, pulling the black door of the penthouse open and gathering the beach things they’d abandoned, placing them inside the doorway, bringing the picnic basket onto the island, putting the dishes in the long steel sink and the remnants of food away in the big silver fridge. He looked at Kenzie’s succulents as he did this, with long, meandering affection--she wants a garden, he remembered, she wants a house in the country and a garden and some horses to take care of, and when I take over the company, she’s going to have them. It’ll be our secret, beautiful place, away from paps and prying eyes and my mother, away from everything that gets in the way.

When Duncan went back into the bedroom, twenty minutes later, Kenzie was fast asleep, her thumb tucked against her bottom lip, her breathing very slow and even, her damp hair across the pillow. Sleeping beauty, he thought, sentimental--I don’t care, she is. She’s my Briar Rose, my ethereal fae princess, my wood nymph, dancing in the forest clearing, and I come upon her and I’m struck forever with need for her. Ariadne, bathed in moonlight. Persephone, dancing in the flowers, singing, kindling desire and hope in my wine-dark heart. O gods, Fates, whatever have I done in your eyes to deserve her, whatever can I do to deserve her? How can I hear the gentleness of her emotions, the fall of her thoughts, how have you seen fit to bless me, as doubtful and flawed and selfish as I have been? I’m utterly moved inside her embrace, moved by her grace, moved by the gentleness of her soul. I’ll do whatever I can to be worthy of her love. To be inside it is to be redeemed from all darkness, and I’m grateful.

Duncan climbed into bed beside her, switching the lamp off, his eyes falling over the mirror over his shoulder again. It seemed to wink at him; a cascade of secret gold flitted over its surface. His eyes fell with shuddering longing up the length of the chain (the chain I’ll tie her velvet ribbons to, the chain by which she’ll give herself to me in complete devotion, and I can’t even bear to think of it, her trust is so dear to me), then he turned away, overcome, and laid down beside her to watch the shuddering softness of her breath and her eyelids. The full moon is on the night of the Gala, he thought. And it will shine for her and her alone.

Soon after that, Duncan fell asleep, his hand on Kenzie’s pillow, his fingers gently twined around a wave of her golden hair.

--------

He woke first the next day; he could see the lines of tiredness still on Kenzie’s face as she turned away from him in her sleep to fold herself deep into the corner of the bed, faraway in an unknown dream. Duncan pressed his hand through the chestnut waves of her hair, now dried to silkiness during the night--the light was still dim, the morning just arrived, but his mind was already wide awake and buzzing with need--already his thoughts hung low, toward the evening. He felt relieved that Kenzie wouldn’t be going to work today--he reached for his phone on the nightstand, sending Harris a text saying Kenzie would be staying home today and that she would message him to request his supervision if she needed to go anywhere. We should make dinner together tonight, he thought, idly, watching her breathe quietly. I want us to cook together--I think she wants that too. I love that--the idea of coming home to her and making something with her that we can enjoy together. That’s all I ever want to do now--things with her that make her happy.

He climbed out of the bed, reluctant to leave the warmth of her cocoon, and went to the closet, willing himself to move past the mirror, staring at himself in it all the way--it seemed to wink at him again, familiar, full of some secret knowledge it refused to divulge, its mystery captivating. Why do I feel like I’ve seen it so many times? Why do I feel like I know it so well? Why do we both feel like it’s belonged to Kenzie for a long time? How could it have? Duncan moved past it, almost glad to be away from its colossal gaze, into the closet, reaching up to where several of his signature long-sleeved dark-colored Oxford shirts hung in a neat row, and pulled a navy one in jersey down around his shoulders, hand through his hair and around his chin, absently--then buttoned it slowly, up to the curve of his throat right before his adam’s apple. Maybe if I can believe in Soulmates and in Fate and in destiny and if I can accept that my girlfriend and I can read each other’s thoughts, I can accept parallel lifetimes or reincarnation or...something, too. And maybe we really should go see a psychic, hell, I guess I believe in those now, also. Unicorns, I’ll add you to the list, why the hell not.

He reached for his gold Movado today--why not. It’s summer and I’m wildly in love with my Soulmate. Everything gold reminds me of her, so gold it is. He pulled a pair of well-tailored gray chinos on and chose a pair of Louboutin leather balmorals that he particularly liked from his shoe shelves--Duncan clutched them between fingers and thumb and moved out of the closet into the front room, hoping not to wake Kenzie--I really want her to sleep in today. And I want her to have breakfast in bed like the Princess she is. He placed the spotless balmorals on one of the high chairs of the center island, carefully gathering the pink boxes in his arms and moving them to the long leather couch through the divide--then he went back to the kitchen to make breakfast: a simple one for him, a green kale and avocado smoothie with his Vitamix and two pieces of sprouted bread toast with unsalted peanut butter--and a beautiful one for Kenzie on a priceless silver tray that used to belong to Adelaide. It consisted of two more slices of the sprouted bread toasted with strawberry preserves and organic rolled butter, a perfectly ripe avocado, sliced in half with the pit removed, sprinkled with ground pepper, a tiny silver spoon in its soft flesh, and two perfectly peeled and separated clementines, arranged so they fanned like the petals of an opulent flower in a silver bowl with tiny clusters of silver dogberries on the sides (also Adelaide’s--she’d given all of her silver to Duncan in her Will, and most of it was priceless). Grandma would have loved Kenzie. Unlike Mom, she had perfect taste, he thought, going into the dining room and finding one of the cloth napkins in the china cabinet drawers, coming back to place it beside the plate. Mom is too worried about what other people think of her to trust her own instincts entirely. But Grandma would have seen how special she is in an instant, because Adelaide was like that too. Luminous. I could see the way Harris glowed when he mentioned her--Harris loved her. Maybe he really loved her. It seemed to be there in his eyes.

Drifting between these thoughts of his grandmother and his lover, Duncan made Kenzie a medium-roast black coffee in one of his clear glass mugs with the Keurig that lived beside his espresso machine, as sleek, black and silent as the other machine was. Then he poured grapefruit juice (admiring its deep coral color) into the peony glass, water into one of the Waterford tumblers (I’m the black coffee, Kenzie is the rosy juice surrounded by flowers--Hades beside his Persephone), setting the glasses carefully on the tray, carrying it through the kitchen on careful feet, stopping at the coffee table to pull one of the roses (wilting just a little, but still deeply red and beautiful) by the stem out of the bouquet and placing it long-wise on the tray along the back of the glasses. Then he moved on through the bedroom to where Kenzie still lay fast asleep, her hair silky and tossed over the pillow and her shoulder, her little palm open under her cheek, turned away from the doorway. She stirred a little as he sat carefully on his edge of the bed, facing her, holding the tray steadily in his hands. She turned to him, stretching cat-like and almost subconsciously, her hand coming up to the corner of her eye, her mouth opening a little.

“Oooo, baby...is that for me?”

He nodded and smiled at her--words slipping away to behold her sweetness, her loveliness in the morning light. Kenzie sat up, and he felt another burst of painful affection at her sleep-mussed hair, the fall of the satin-and-lace sleeping cami off her shoulder, revealing the dip of her breast to him as she leaned down to straighten herself, her little hands pushing her hair back and coming together in delight as he placed the tray on the mattress in front of her, pushing the duvet away with his arm.

“Dunny, ohhh. You made me breakfast in bed.”

“I should do it every day.” He couldn’t help it--in her eyes he always felt shy, and he could feel the blush on his cheeks, the way he wanted to look away under her gaze because it made him feel so bare. They were impossibly bright this morning, the memory of her dreams still shimmering behind them, and he leaned over the tray to kiss her, his hand coming against her cheek; Kenzie’s little face leaned up to him and he was struck with the smell of her hair, jasmine, roses, lemon, and marveled at the way he could feel every feverish beat of his own heart. He could feel the smile in her kiss and as he pulled away, reluctant, she looked down again at the tray, her little teeth grinning, reaching out to the little silver spoon in the avocado, admiring it, scooping some of the green flesh out and popping it into her mouth. She swallowed, gazing at him, that gold sheen hovering over her. “This tray is really beautiful, and this little silver spoon, and ooo, this little bowl.” She touched the silver dogberries on the bowl that held the clementines, licking the spoon held against her lips.

“They were my grandmother’s. Adelaide, who Harris used to protect. She would have loved you. She wasn’t like Mom. She was beautiful and graceful like Mom, but her energy was different. She was gracious.”

“I wish I could have met her.” Kenzie’s hair fell over her shoulder, catching a burst of early morning sun, as she continued to spoon morsels of avocado into her little mouth. Duncan reached out for her hand and she grasped his fingers, and her touch was like a burst of sweet sunlight into his hand--you’re my sunlight, baby, like a sunbeam right into the center of my soul.

“I do too, baby.”

Duncan pulled his phone off the nightstand as he watched her--he couldn’t help it. Kenzie looked so beautiful this way, sunlight on her face just-so, her hair falling in a golden wave over her shoulder, her face turned down with a radiant smile, the strap of her cami off one shoulder, silver spoon poised in her hand. She reached for the grapefruit juice, and he knew she recognized the peony glass--her eyes looked up at him with affection and he was ready, snapping a picture before she could protest.

“Ugh, oh no, baby, I’m all messy.” Kenzie made a face at him, sticking out her tongue.

“No, you aren’t. You’re fucking beautiful. Can we make dinner together tonight, baby? I wanna cook with you. I’d really love to do that.” He lowered his phone, recognizing the need in his voice, but he didn’t care. With you I will always say what I feel, Kenzie.

“I would love that. What should we make? Oo, baby, Claire gave me this recipe the other day--well, a few weeks ago, I guess--it’s for vegetable fried rice but it has quinoa instead of rice. It looked so good, I really want to try it.” He watched her talk, the tiny motions of her hands and her shoulders as she reached for the toast, bringing it up to her lips, taking a bite, watching the incline of her neck and the tiny shifts of her eyes and the flutter of her eyelashes, and Duncan felt lost in her--full of gratitude again to even be near her, an emotion he was becoming deeply intimate with. “That sounds really good, baby,” he replied, reaching for her hand again. She lifted her eyes up to him.

“Duncan. I’m so happy.”

“I am too. To be with you. It’s like...my heart is constantly so full. It’s so--”

“Amazing.” Kenzie nodded. “It’s extraordinary. It’s fucking bliss.”

Bliss. That was the word.

“Here, baby,” Duncan reached over to his nightstand, ripping a memo off a pad of sticky notes stacked there beside a glass with several expensive fountain pens in it--it had been originally placed there for work notes when he woke up at night in the past, thinking about the show or the app or the company--but it had become obsolete to him in the past week. Like everything that isn’t her--it’s part of my old life. And its purpose has changed. Now, it’s for Kenzie to write grocery lists or me to write her name over and over and over. Mackenzie Stone. Mackenzie Louise Stone. Mackenzie...Shepherd. Mackenzie Shepherd. He shivered at his own longing. “Write down anything you want the concierge to get today for dinner--and anything else you want. They’ll deliver it this afternoon. I already texted Harris for you and told him you aren’t going to work.”

Kenzie took the paper and fountain pen from him, munching on her slices of clementine, her expression still turned to him, full of affection. “We could make dumplings too, I’m pretty good at them, Claire and I did them together one time and it’s fun to fold them.”

“I’ve made them before too, actually,” Duncan said, smiling shyly at her. “I’ve spent a lot of time cooking for myself since I turned 18 and moved out of my mother’s house. As soon as I moved in here I started buying cook books like crazy because I didn’t want to hire a chef. It made me...less lonely, I guess.”

Kenzie reached for him. He grasped her hand, tightly, emotion bubbling in him.

“I’m not lonely anymore, baby. I’m so far from lonely now that you’re here.”

“Good. I love you so much.” Kenzie leaned over the silver tray again, and their lips came together, deeply, with aching hunger. She tasted wonderfully sweet, the citrus falling into his mouth, the creamy taste of the avocado and the butter lingering there. “Ooo, how about green tea ice cream, too.”

“I love green tea ice cream.”

“Of course you do, because you have excellent taste.” She grinned at him, then turned down to write ingredients on the little paper, leaning over to grab her phone and find the recipe. He watched her quietly as she wrote, then paused to look at the phone screen where she’d pulled up a recipe website, reading carefully as she pressed the edge of the pen into her bottom lip, and Duncan wanted to pull her against him and kiss her more, wanted to push the tray away and press her down into the bed and pull the satin demandingly away from her shoulders and cup her roughly in his hands in the dappled sunlight over the bed--yesterday was so short. I long for you.

“I can’t wait for tonight, baby,” he murmured to her, unable to stop himself. “I can’t wait to tie you up in that lingerie.” He heard Kenzie’s breath catch and she paused her furious writing, lifting her eyes to him. He grasped the peony glass in his long fingers, lifting it to lips, his stare unwavering, taking a long mouthful, licking the tanginess from his lips, slowly. I’m going to devour you.

“I can’t wait to wear it for you, Prince Duncan.” At that, Kenzie went up on her knees and carefully pushed the tray aside, crawling over to him across the sheet--Duncan’s head went hazy-soft as Kenzie climbed into his lap, her legs straddling his thighs, the soft weight of her ass pressing into his crotch. She was so small in his arms--he was struck by it again, a wave of desire. His hands fell up and down the satin of the little pink-and-black-lace sleeping set he’d gotten for her, marveling at its softness on her, marveling at how perfectly it fit against her little body--staring into her hazel eyes, loving the sweet smell of her pressed to him.

“Ugh, baby, I don’t wanna go to work,” he whined. “Not at all. I wanna fuck you, baby, right now, I wanna kiss every inch of you.”

“Awwww, poor baby, my poor Dunny,” she murmured into him, pouting with a mocking smile. “My poor baby wants it real bad, huh. You wanna fuck me real bad, huh, baby.”

“Yes,” and at that Duncan clutched her more harshly into him, digging his fingers harshly into her skin, pressing his mouth roughly into her neck, sucking and biting. Kenzie moaned into him, turning her little head up, her hair falling back, and his hand fell down between the silkiness of her thighs, fondling at her folds there, feeling the mound of her sex over the slippery fabric that covered her. He whispered up into her ear, his nerves on fire. “Play with yourself when you’re here alone today, baby. Play with yourself and think about me. I’ll go somewhere alone and I’ll make myself come and I’ll think of you, I’ll think of how I’m gonna fuck you tonight, how hard I’m gonna fuck you, Princess, angel, baby--”

Kenzie was nodding and rolling her hips against him, her breath shallow, shivering at the feeling of his lips on her ear, her tiny hands coming up to grip at the stubble of his cheeks, fall into his hair. “Uh huh, okay, baby, I’ll make myself come--” she shuddered again, more violently, and Duncan gasped at the sweet feeling of her against him, “--and I’ll think of you, I promise--I’ll touch myself for you--I have this vibrator, I didn’t show you yet--”

“Ugh, baby. Show me.”

Kenzie continued to shiver in his arms--Duncan moved his face away from her neck and stared into her feverishly glimmering eyes. “Show me, baby, please. I wanna see it.”

Kenzie nodded, biting her lip, climbing off his lap, trailing her fingers down his thighs as he gazed at her face. That’s it, baby, get yourself worked up. I want you to think about what I’m gonna do to you tonight all day. I want you to be so wet while we make dinner that you can’t stop thinking about me fucking you on the counter, I want your panties to be soaked from your thoughts when you take them off to put that silky tulle on your beautiful skin. I want to tie you up and fuck you for hours tonight. Fuck you until we’re totally exhausted and can’t even move anymore. Fuck you until we can’t breathe. Fuck you until every part of us is so sensitive it hurts for us to touch each other and still we’ll touch anyway because to touch you is to be soothed by a goddess. Let me worship you. I’m gonna worship you.

Kenzie went to one of the boxes of her belongings that still clustered around the corner (Duncan watched the sway of her body in the little pink satin pyjamas, her legs bare, her hair over her shoulder, her expression suddenly dazed with arousal); she pulled books from one until she found the thing she was looking for--it looked like a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray, but she opened the cover and Duncan realized it was a secret box made to look like a book, its interior hollow. She lifted out a small pink toy--one end had a rounded vibrating egg, and a short cord extended down from it to a battery square with a knob, climbing in intensity from 1 to 5. She turned the knob and Duncan could hear the small electric sound of the vibrator turning on. The egg end hummed against her hand.

“I’m gonna use this while you’re away today and when I come--and fuck, baby, this little thing makes me come so hard--I’m gonna scream your name, and think about what you’re going to do to me tonight.” Duncan could see that she was shivering as she said it, goosebumps lifting on her arms. His cock pressed into the tailored crotch of his chinos and he moaned to look at her, to hear what she was saying. Kenzie lowered the little egg between her legs, letting it press gently against the satin of her little pyjamas there, staring at him expectantly, still visibly shivering.

“Fuck, baby, I wanna watch--” Duncan couldn’t stop himself, fuck, I want to watch her use that on herself so fucking bad, but Kenzie bit her lip, her expression amused, shaking her head.

“No, baby. You have to be patient and wait and go to work. And at some point today when you’re alone, you have to touch yourself and think about my mouth on your cock, think about your cock fucking my pussy and my little ass, wet for you, and you have to stroke yourself until you come for me. And then we’re gonna make dinner together when you get home. And then you’re going to tie me up and buckle that fucking gorgeous rose choker tight around my neck and fuck me senseless. Do as I say, okay? Do what I told you to do, baby.”

“Yes, baby. Yes, Kenzie.” I could fucking die inside your eyes, Kenzie. I love it when you command me. I’ll tie you up but I’m your slave and I know you know that. I’d do anything you told me to do, baby. Divine and staggering in your beauty, my Kenzie, beloved angel of heaven.

Kenzie put the vibrator back into the hollowed book, setting it back into the box, a satisfied air to her now--she stood up very straight, completely awake now, sleep brushed away from her, and she climbed back onto the bed on the opposite side so he couldn’t grab onto her. Duncan reached for her but she said “No, Dunny, let me eat my breakfast.” And he stopped, his breath harsh, full of terrible crimson-gold-flushed waves of need for her. She stared into his eyes--the golden nebula of her soul--and lifted the clementines to her lips, and devoured them until none were left, and he did not look away, trapped in her gaze--no, not trapped, he thought, aching. Completely supplicant to her. I don’t want to be away from her. I want to stay inside her eyes always, for her gaze is sanctity in my sight. I am your most faithful, devoted lover, Mackenzie. Whatever you will--it is my desire to realize it. I’m yours until I lie in my grave, feeding flowers that will grow in your honor.

-------

Duncan was slipping the balmorals on his feet as Kenzie carefully moved the little silver dishes to the sink to rinse them, still wearing her little satin sleeping set--Duncan already loved it fiercely, and knew the image of her wearing it would grow to be ingrained in him with time, a certain memory of many days to come. “Is it okay to put vintage silver in the dishwasher?” she asked, turning her head around to him, holding up the little bowl with dogberries along the side.

“It is, actually, just put them in without any other dishes and run the cycle by itself,” Duncan replied, smiling at her attention to detail. “I’ll ask Anchaly to tell the housekeepers to skip us today so you have privacy.”

“Okay, baby,” Kenzie replied softly, moving away from the sink and coming up to where he stood at the table beside the front door, pushing his wallet down into the back of his fitted chinos, a pair of squarish Gucci sunglasses he’d chosen for today in his hand. “Have a very--” and here she leaned up, her long chestnut hair brushed out now and floating around her in delicate waves, her little feet tiptoeing to reach his face, kissing his stubbled cheek before he could turn his face into hers--”good--” and now she pressed a kiss to the other cheek--”day--” and she finally let him gather her against him now, tenderly pressing her open mouth against his, and Duncan wrapped his arms around her, greedy for the scent and taste and feeling of her against him, the satiny texture of her little pyjamas, the soft fall of her hair and her arms and her tongue brushing against his.

“It’s so hard to leave you, every fucking time--” he whispered into her, his voice aching in his ears, and he felt it in his bones, how true the words were.

“Baby, just think about how fucking wonderful tonight’s going to be. And text me when you’re alone later. I want to know when you’re thinking about me.”

“Kenzie, I am always thinking about you.”

She smiled into him. “Don’t forget to give Anchaly that list. When do you think you’ll be home?”

Home. Home is when I’m with you, Kenzie. We could be anywhere and if you’re there, it’s home.

“5 at the latest, I think. We don’t have too much to do today, the news has been slow--well, except for you and me, I guess, baby.”

“Claire texted me, BPF posted all the stuff we put on Instagram on their website already. They should be giving us royalties or something.” Kenzie rolled her eyes, but Duncan could see the smile in them. That’s right world, we’re together, get used to it, he thought, smiling in return to her. Then he grew serious again for a moment, lost in thoughts of Shepherd Unlimited and the soon-to-be-defunct Gardner Analytics.

“I’m wondering when I should tell Melody I’m planning to dismantle the show and the app when I take over for my uncle. She’s done a lot of work on them and I don’t think she’s going to be happy about it. Of course I plan to rehire her for another position in the company if she wants one, but…”

“I guess there’s a possibility she’d be upset enough to tell Annette about your plans.” Kenzie went down on her heels, leaning away from him.

“A very real possibility. I feel bad for concealing it from her, though. As I said, she’s worked hard on them. But Mom messaged me yesterday--my uncle is getting sicker faster than the doctors originally thought. Apparently he’s going to be in confinement by the end of the month. Which means I’m going to be taking over a lot sooner than we originally thought.”

A serious expression came into Kenzie’s eyes. “So that means Momby and I would be going on the board a lot sooner, too.”

“Yes. Probably by the end of next month.”

Kenzie blew out a long breath, and Duncan stood before her, his hand falling down the waves of hair over her shoulder. Kenzie is so fucking beautiful. Baby, you look like a fucking angel right now, in your little pink satin, your hair silky-soft down your back, your little face scrunched up so serious. Your eyes are like fucking stars. And you’re mine. And I still can’t believe it.

Then Kenzie nodded, as though she’s felt or heard his tenderness. She probably did. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through it, baby. We’ll get through everything. I have such a hopeful feeling inside me every day now. Like something fell into place and now everything is moving, traveling on into the future.”

“I feel that way too, baby. Like our destiny is in motion. I love you. I’ll see you later tonight.” He lifted her face up to him with the tips of his fingers and kissed her once more, open-mouthed, closing his eyes, and he saw when he opened them and pulled away that Kenzie’s were still closed and her mouth still open just a little in a rapturous visage of desire, and he thought she looks like the Ecstacy of St. Theresa, glowing in the light of an angel, only she is the angel, the angel is her, and the ecstacy is mine. As Duncan went out into the hall, he turned around and saw her little face peeking at him through the doorway for a moment, then she smiled and blew him a kiss, and Duncan pretended to catch it in midair and pressed his hand against his heart, turning away from her, recalcitrant, as the door swung shut, slipping his dark sunglasses over his eyes.

-------

Duncan was drifting through the day--he had stayed tight-lipped at the paps who were hanging out outside Shepherd Hall (“Where’d you go on your baecation this weekend, Duncan?” Gary Spencer had called out to him as Ricky Aspen (Gary’s token photographer) snapped his camera, angled at Duncan’s face) and Duncan had shot daggers toward him, pressing his lips together defiantly) despite their insistence. He had tried to appear interested in the episode overview and the charts regarding the apps “numbers”, but he was utterly absorbed in the thought of Kenzie’s promise to use the little pink egg on herself (I’m gonna scream your name); his thoughts made him feel too hot, his mind smoky and thick, his groin throbbing and aching, making him shift in his seat, restless to be alone. Seth and Melody continually gave him sidelong glances over the long conference table as Richard, one of the showrunners, rambled on about Claire’s prolonged breakdown, entering its fourth week. Annette was probably expecting him at another meeting today, this one regarding finishing details about the Gala, but Duncan bristled at the thought of seeing her, angry at her treatment of Kenzie on Saturday--storming out on her like a child when you insisted on consuming her day. And none of you know I’m secretly meeting with Claire Underwood on Thursday, best to keep it that way, Duncan thought, shifting again, trying to refocus on something that wasn’t the dip of Kenzie’s pale skin around her throat, the softness of the space behind her jaw under her ear where he liked to press his fingers, continually amazed by how delicate she was, or the space between her breasts where he could feel her heartbeat if he pressed his lips there, or the sweet ache between her legs (me pressing my lips there yesterday as I held her legs apart and sucked at her and she cried out for me over and over, fuck, or my come falling down the side of her mouth as she sucked me dry), but dipped back down into the endlessness of her, the whirling storm of her. God, when will this meeting be fucking over. Everything is a waiting game now. None of you know what I’m going to do when Bill dies. And he’s going to die soon.

“How long, exactly, do you think it will take for the paps to not be swarming around here every single day like we’re Beyonce’s entourage, Duncan?” Melody leaned over the table, and Duncan looked up from where he’d been gazing into space, imagining Kenzie in her little satin pyjamas, straddling his lap, murmuring into his mouth. He hadn’t noticed when the meeting adjourned, and some of the other crew for the show had already left the conference room--Richard was staring at him from the head of it, a frown creasing his brow.

I guess we’re back to not being friends. Duncan sat up, blinking at her, crashing down from his heavenly imaginings. “Melody, what the fuck, may I ask, would you like me to do about it?”

“I dunno, maybe stop posting photos of your half-clothed girlfriend on Instagram every day?”

Duncan looked over at Seth, whose eyes skirted away from both of them as if there was something extremely interesting going on outside the window. Duncan felt a flare of anger course down the back of his skull, felt his teeth clench at the insinuating tone of Melody’s voice. Everyone’s obsessed with Kenzie, and I understand why, but god, I hate the idea of people wishing her ill. I hate the idea of anyone thinking cruelly towards her. When it came to Kenzie, he wished he could surround her in an impenetrable cocoon of safety, an invisible barrier between her and all the evil intentions of the outside world. She’s my Joan of Arc--far too wonderful, too brave, too bright for any of you.

“I’ll post photos of her whenever the fuck I feel like it in whatever the fuck she happens to be wearing. Lay the fuck off, Melody.” Melody’s eyes flashed at him and she shoved out of her seat, yanking the conference room door open and stalking out.

“Duncan,” Seth was the only other person in the room now besides him, Richard having made a beeline for the door as soon as Melody had shot her venomous question at Duncan. “Be forgiving of her. She’s...I don’t know how happy she is with the work lately, to be honest. And I have to say this, because it should have been said a long time ago, but Melody has been in love with you for...years, and seeing you with someone else this way is just...a lot for her.”

“Seth, what.” Fuck, I should have realized that. I did realize that. I knew she was. But I have never felt that way about her and god, that night I was fucking hammered out of my mind, and I knew it was a mistake right away. But my apology was late, wasn’t it. Really late. Fuck. And I convinced myself I was imagining that she was romantically interested in me. I pretended like I didn’t know because I was trying not to hurt her feelings. But somehow I’ve done that anyway.

“I agree that you don’t have any obligation to engage emotionally with someone who you don’t share the same affections with,” Seth said, carefully. “And for all intents and purposes you seem to have issued the apology she was looking for--but just forgive her, I guess, is what I’m saying. Melody and I have spent a lot of time together, and…” Seth trailed off.

“You care about her.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.” Seth looked at him, and Duncan was surprised to see how much warmth was hiding behind his eyes. In fact, Duncan thought, it seems as though you might, in fact, be the one who loves her, huh, Seth?

“Seth. Don’t worry. I’m not going to fire her if that’s what you think. There are...changes on the horizon for this company. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about, at least to a certain extent. I’m going to have the power to move the people in this company where they will be most happy and well-placed. And I really do mean happy, Seth. Soon, Melody will have her pick of where she wants to be regarding Shepherd Unlimited. I give you my word.”

Seth was quiet for a long time; he seemed to regard Duncan with a mixture of suspicion and wary vulnerability.

“Duncan, you’ve really changed lately.”

“I know it. God, I fucking know it.”

“It’s that woman, isn’t it. The woman you’re with now. Mackenzie Stone.”

“Yes, Seth. It is her. She’s made me the happiest man on earth. I want to spread it outward and give it to others, too. It’s like I...I really understand that I have too much now. And it needs to be shared.”

“If I’d heard you say something like that a year ago, I think I would’ve thought you’d gone the way of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Annette must be absolutely nonplussed.”

“She is. It’s been interesting to attempt to navigate all of this with her.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Go comfort Melody.”

Seth slid up from his chair and gave him one last long look, then nodded. “Mr. Shepherd.” Then he smiled a little, and Duncan smiled back at him, lifting his water glass to his mouth as Seth left the room. Duncan waited for the door to click shut, then he stood and went to it, snapping the lock into position. Then he went to the second door to the room across the other side of the table and snapped the lock there too. Duncan pulled the blinds of the long office windows down carefully. Next, he went to a side-table that had a box of tissues atop it, pulling several out and gripping them in his hand, then he sat back down in the chair he’d been in for the past half hour, setting the tissues on the smooth surface of the conference table, carefully unbuckling his belt. He went to his text messages and typed to Kenzie.

I’m alone now baby. Can’t stop thinking about you in my lap like that. Can’t stop thinking about putting that rose choker around your soft little white neck. Can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you’re going to look in that white lingerie. I’ve been lost in thoughts of you all day. Just totally lost to you, baby.

He saw the telltale text bubbles pop up underneath almost immediately.

Baby, I’m taking my clothes off for you now, laying down on the bed for you. Are you touching yourself yet?

Duncan set his phone down on the table in front of him and finished unbuckling his belt, pulling down the button and zipper of his chinos, slipping a warm hand down into the waistband of his tight briefs, bringing his rigid cock up so it was standing to attention, pressing into his stomach with the waistband holding it there. He grasped his hand over it and turned his phone towards his unbuttoned crotch and the fist over the head of his cock. He snapped the photo and sent it to her, adding a short bit of text: Yes, baby.

The text bubbles appeared again.

Show me, baby. Take a picture of your bare hard cock for me so I can look at it while I press that egg into my clit, baby, god it feels fucking good, almost as good as when you’re fucking me. I have it right here beside me on the bed now, and I’m naked, I took off everything I was wearing and laid here for you. I’m waiting for you to tell me I can start.

Fuck, Duncan thought. Fuck, Kenzie, you are the most erotic, the most alluring, the most exquisite person I have ever met. You’re so goddamn fucking beautiful. I keep trying to find words for you but they haven’t been invented yet. You’re beyond my dreams--you’re the only person I will ever truly love and I know it with every part of me. Duncan’s thumb slid over the precum that was already leaking from the head of his cock, slathering it along the sensitive underside of where his shaft began, and jerked his hand along the length, down about halfway. He angled his phone’s camera on his crotch again, moving his hand, pushing his pants and briefs down further so its hardness, its thick need, was exposed. He moved his hand along the precum again, wetting his cock’s length. Then he took the photo and hit send; his large hand was pressed to the side of his erection, so though only half of it was exposed in his waistband, the evidence of his length was apparent. Start now, baby, he added in text underneath. Think about how I’m gonna fuck you long and hard in a few hours  and you’re gonna watch me do it in all your glorious beauty.

Duncan felt dizzy as he dragged his fingers along his length in the quiet conference room. Kenzie thinking about me fucking her raw as she works at her clit in our bed, her little naked body lying on top of the duvet, her legs spread, her hair tossed into the pillow, her head turned up and her eyes fluttering and her mouth open with need, like holy fucking fuck, baby, my fucking angel, my beloved, wild and sublime, my goddess in the throes of her desires.

Nothing from her end for a minute--Duncan jerked needily at his cock under his briefs, little moans falling out of his mouth as he read her texts to come before--baby, I’m taking my clothes off for you now. Then a photo came through his phone--Kenzie staring into the camera, bare neck and the roundness of her little breasts exposed, one of her hands clutched between them, the other lifting the phone to take the photo, her nipples hard, an expression of need on her face, her eyes heavy-lidded and her lips parted just a little. You have to come, okay, baby? You have to touch yourself until you come. Think about how you fucked my tight little ass the other night, baby, made me dissolve into screams of ecstasy under your hands, Dunny baby, stared into my eyes as you did, made me look at you, fuck, made me look into your sky eyes, my love.

Fuck, angel, he replied, typing carefully with his thumb as he worked at himself, biting into his lip as the sensations riding through his cock rose in intensity. This picture. I’m going to keep it forever, a secret just for me. God, baby, you look so fucking gorgeous. I can’t wait to see you, I’m going to kiss every part of you, I’m going to make you feel so fucking good, angel baby.

Kenzie: I want you to spank me tonight. I want you to spank me hard when I’m tied up, spank me and grab my neck and choke me because I’m yours. I want you to do it, baby. Do as I tell you, okay? I’m gonna tell you to spank me and I want you to do it until I tell you to stop. Please, baby. I want it. I want you to be rough with me.

Okay, baby. I will, he replied, shuddering under his own grip on his length. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Duncan imagined Kenzie’s little mewling cries as his hands came down hard against her soft skin, the keening of her hips as she fell against his palms, the pressure of her little neck under his hand as he clasped her with demanding fingers. Whatever you want baby, whatever makes you feel good, he typed, I’d do it a thousand times if you told me to, your pleasure is everything to me. Are you using it on yourself?

Kenzie: Yes, baby, god I’m so wet for you and it’s making me fucking ache for you, you’ve been so patient and I wanna make you feel so good tonight, I wanna give you all of myself, my body totally at your mercy my beloved, my sweet beautiful Prince, baby.

Duncan felt the shudder of his orgasm rising and he snatched the tissues from the table, bringing them carefully along the underside of his cock, emptying himself into them, gasping into the force of his release, leaning over the chair as he came, his body wracked for a moment with the force of it. “Uhh, Kenzie, baby, Kenzie--” Fuckkk. He looked down at his phone again as he gasped, and saw Kenzie had texted him again--Fuck baby, I just came so hard, I screamed for you like I told you I would, I’m lying here, shuddering and naked and thinking only of you in our bed and your big beautiful hands and your big gorgeous cock and your beautiful mouth and your eyes like the sky full of storms, I need you, Duncan, I need you and I’m aching for you baby.

Duncan used the tissues to carefully wipe the dampness from his crotch, wincing a little, crumpling them in his hand, carefully pushing his now-sensitive cock back down into his briefs, buttoning and zipping his pants, standing on shaking limbs to toss the tissues into a nearby trash can, then turned back to his phone and typed. Fuck, Kenzie, I need YOU, I need you every minute, I can’t think of anything but you, everything is you, the sky and the stars and the moon and the ocean yesterday was you and every flower and every beautiful thing is only half as beautiful as you, your eyes are like gold-flecked galaxies and your hair is like liquid sunlight and your mouth is sweeter than any fruit to me, and the space between your legs sweeter than the nectar of any god, your body so small and exquisite under my hands every time you give yourself to me. I came with your name on my lips because I belong to you forever and when I see you tonight I’m going to make you feel it, going to give you every bit of my devotion, going to press wild prayers into your body.

He hit send. Then he typed I love you, I love you, I love you.

Kenzie: And I love you, until the last star fades.

Until the last star fades.

He typed again. See you in a few hours, baby. I’m going to make you feel so wonderful. I swear I will, on everything, on the sun and the moon and the stars and the universe inside your eyes.

Kenzie: Baby, you already do, you’re my beloved, exalted in my eyes. See you soon. She left a long line of lipstick stain emojis after it.

Exalted. Something about the word was so familiar and so comforting. It was the best word to describe how he felt to be around her. Exalted: lifted up, held high in esteem. Blessed by your eyes, blessed by your thoughts, your touch, your grace, your love, Kenzie. Exalted in the eyes of a goddess. How could anything ever be so beautiful.

Duncan unlocked the door, took a deep, shuddering breath, and went to wash his hands.

------

The meeting for the Gala was unbearably tedious and redundant, and Duncan had stayed tight-lipped at his mother’s angry expression when she saw him--she had glared at him across yet another conference table, this one in a Shepherd Hall room a few floors up from the one they used for the show downstairs, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Duncan had gazed off her right shoulder into space instead, hand trailing along his jaw, his thoughts on Kenzie in the red dress he’d bought her at Nancy’s shop, redoubled on his imaginings of flowers in her hair, thought blushingly of his imaginings of their wedding, the hundreds of flowers surrounding them, the delicate moonstone on her finger, crystals and white and pink roses twined through her hair, a dress made of yards of lace and tulle, a delicate dress only a goddess would wear. I’ll get her peonies today, he thought, as soon as this fucking meeting is over, peonies to replace her roses that are slowly wilting, I’ll always make sure she has fresh flowers now, the goddess of spring can’t be without her flowers. Kenzie wants a garden, but I swear her touch alone could make things grow, pull verdant art from the ground.

Annette had approached him after, about to say something biting, no doubt, her mouth opening in a downwards tilt (she’d been wearing a black cashmere wrap dress with a sash and low pointed black heels, her neck bare, as usual), but Duncan had leaned down to her, kissing her cheek (he felt her stiffen in surprise, felt her anger melt under his touch), and then he turned away. “Duncan--” Annette had said after him, but he noticed the biting tone he’d expected to hear from her expression seemed to have faltered, and his name came out softer, more confused, from the back of her throat.

“I love you, Mom,” was all he’d said, stopping for moment, his back still turned to her, and then he’d walked away from her, and she hadn’t tried to follow him. I love you, but I won’t suffer your ill will towards her. I simply won’t do it. You will come to understand that. Already I feel as though this company is in my hands. I can feel the future coming, it’s nearly the present. It’s nearly here, its weight falling down on me, and I can’t do this without her by my side, it simply can’t become without her. Nothing of me can be without our destinies tied as they are. And this company will become nothing if we don’t change it. The Fates have already set in motion the thread of the events to come, I feel it acutely, it’s being spun now and soon, when Uncle BIll dies, it will be alloted. He could feel the ways in which Annette was fighting against that thread--could feel his mother trying to snap it, trying to stop it somehow, but Duncan knew that his destiny, now as clear as crystal, could not be broken by the will of Annette Shepherd. As he slid into the backseat of the BMW a few minutes later, he smiled up at Samuel, whose good humor was as bright as a warm lantern in the dark today, Ella on the stereo (I love the looks of you, the lure of you, the sweet of you, the pure of you, the eyes, the arms, the mouth of you) the interior of the car very cool and even compared to the hot June day outside, the sky full of cumulus clouds.

“I’ll be requesting that we stop at English Rose Garden very often in the future, Samuel,” Duncan added to Samuel as they glided away from the curb, having asked his chauffeur to make a stop there now. He took his sunglasses off to look Samuel in the eyes through the rearview, evenly. “I want Kenzie to always have fresh flowers in the house. She told me her dream is to have a garden house. If I can’t give her a garden yet, I’m determined to bring the garden to her.”

“That’s lovely, Mr. Shepherd. She’s like a garden herself, isn’t she.” Samuel’s eyes skirted between him and the road. “To be near her is to feel flowers around your heart.”

“Exactly, Samuel. Exactly.”

“I’ve heard Mr. Bill is not very well these days, Mr. Shepherd.”

Samuel glanced at him in the mirror, then back at the road. Duncan hesitated, hand moving up to his chin. You know you can trust Samuel. He’s been your closest confidant since you were still in a car booster seat.

“Samuel, I want you to know that I plan to reorganize this company. I know I can trust you to tell you this--I trust you with my life. Kenzie and I are...we’re going to make Shepherd Unlimited into something that will help the world. I want you to know that.”

Samuel suddenly laughed--his face had broken out into a radiant smile, and it made Duncan laugh too. Kenzie has made me realize that to spread joy is the greatest of all emotions, the strongest and the most lasting.

“Duncan,” and to hear Samuel call him by his first name brought pinpricks of emotion into Duncan’s eyes--Samuel hadn’t called him that for years, not since he was a child. “Duncan. To hear you say this makes me so happy. I am speechless. Mackenzie has kindled your best self. I am moved beyond words to see this change in you. Love is truly everything.”

Duncan felt a tear fall down his cheek. So what. Let Samuel see. I’m moved beyond words, too. It was all he could do to nod at the other man, nod and smile and feel the depth of this moment, sure inside it that Samuel was right, that love was everything; the only thing.

------

It was a little after 5; Duncan was finally at the penthouse door, a wildly beautiful bouquet of pink-and-white peonies under his arm--he felt like his body was vibrating to finally be home, finally be within close proximity to her embrace. Kenzie had posted several pictures on her Instagram throughout the day, tagging him in all of them--one of them with the sunlight over her shoulder, succulents along the kitchen window behind her (our little garden @duncanshepherd), one of the three photos he’d found in one of her boxes, clustered together on the bathroom wall now (he could tell from the light fixtures and the corner of Kenzie’s face which was visible from the angle that caught the side of the mirror beside the framed pictures), Kenzie with Momby, with Claire at Disneyland, and with her father. I just need one of us here now, @duncanshepherd. There was another of three of her little china birds (a robin, a partridge, a raven) all clustered on Duncan’s study desk, around his expensive fountain pens and a heavy paperweight in the shape of Atlas, holding up the Earth. To keep him company @duncanshepherd. Another of her sun and moon chimes, now hanging near one of the reading chairs in the living room, the expanse from his long picture window visible from behind them. Up in the clouds with @duncanshepherd.

Now everyone will know we’re living together, he thought. And instead of feeling apprehensive, Duncan felt a thrill. That’s fucking right. We are. Now you know Mom, now you know Madeline, now you know, World.

“Kenzie,” he called into the penthouse as he opened the door. “Baby, I’m home, where--” and suddenly he saw her racing toward him from the sink, a radiant smile in her eyes, and she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her, her mouth falling against his (“baby, baby, baby,” she breathed into him), and she tasted like mint and smelled like roses and Duncan thought oh god, thank the gods, thank you, relief washing over him to be in her arms again. Kenzie was wearing a white, lacy strap-sleeve top (one of the straps hung down low off her shoulder, like her satin pyjamas last night), cropped just below her ribcage and coming down in a V over her little bosom--Duncan saw the moon diamond necklace there, heart racing--and a floor-length dark navy skirt with bursts of red flowers that seemed to float into him as she wrapped herself against him; Duncan lifted her up into him with his arm clutched around the bottom of her back, lost in her kisses for a long moment, her hair falling against his cheeks as if to kiss them too--she’s so small in my arms, he thought again, and not just that, but her trust in me is what I feel--her trust in me to hold her how she wants to be held, to touch her just so, to speak the secret language into her skin that one the two of us know. He set her down, but their lips didn’t part--Kenzie brought her hands up to his jaw and held him down against her, and he had to fight the sudden urge to toss the peonies to the floor and rip the clothes off her body right there.

“I saw that your roses were wilting--” he spoke into her mouth, pulling back--”and these reminded me of you so much--of that little water glass.” He watched Kenzie’s face, the brightness of it as her eyes widened over the clusters of soft-hued flowers, hair in her eyes, and she said “Ohh, Duncan. These are lovely. Thank you, baby. I--I really love them.” He saw the tears at the edges of her eyes and pressed another insistent kiss into her--”I just wanna buy you flowers every day now, baby--” and Kenzie laughed and the diamonds around her neck flashed and Duncan couldn’t help it, he reached his hand up and grasped it and rested his skin against her over her heart there and his other hand fell down over the back of her hair and he tried to kiss her again but she turned her face so his lips fell on her face, right on the space beside her eye and she murmured “Baby, you can buy me as many flowers as you want, I love them so much, it’s like I have a garden here, kiss me, kiss my neck baby--” and Duncan moaned into her softness and said “Kenzie, I missed you so much today,” and moved his mouth down to the space below her ear and then down to the dip of her little neck into her shoulder and he lifted her up into him again with the flowers still in her arms the better to reach her.

“How was your day?” She gasped into his touch, and Duncan lifted her back down, again, reluctantly, his mind full of bursts of bright need for her. “Ugh, it was the longest day of all time, except for when we were texting--” Kenzie pulled away from him, stepping back while she stared at him for another moment, arms full of flowers, and he could see the mischief in her eyes--baby is gonna get me worked up first, I see, be patient, Duncan. He moved towards her as she turned away from him, going under the sink where he knew she’d seen him get the other vase--there were several others there, another crystal Waterford and three of varying size, painted in gold leaf, their lips artistically wavy. Kenzie leaned down to one of the gold vases and pulled it out, lifting the peonies out of their soft paper wrapping and arranging them inside it on the counter, using the tap (turning the filter attachment) to fill it with water--Duncan’s hands came around her, and he pressed his cheek into the side of her head, his stomach against her back, still full of wild relief to be close to her again. “--I loved that, baby.”

“I did too,” Kenzie said in a quiet voice, but he could hear her delight, hovering just around the edges. She turned to him with the vase in her arms. Duncan pulled his phone out of his chinos, quickly, and snapped a picture of her before she could protest--Kenzie seemed unable to suppress a laugh at his eagerness, and he managed to catch it, her little head dipped down and her grin apparent. My Persephone. @kenzielouwho

“I had such a wonderful day, baby,” Kenzie said, moving around the island to the coffee table, setting the peonies beside the roses. “I got everything else unpacked and called Momby and told her we’re living together now--she seemed surprised but also...sort of okay with it? ”

“I saw your pictures--we definitely need to put one of us with your framed photos, baby. Madeline’s been so good with everything,” Duncan said, going to the fridge and pulling it open--it seemed to contain everything they needed for dinner (pork shoulder, bok choy, mushrooms, broccoli, carrots, zucchini, eggs, green onions), so it was obvious the groceries Kenzie had written down and Duncan had given to Anchaly on his way downstairs that morning had been delivered without a hitch. Duncan turned to the island, where Kenzie had laid out what looked like most of the cooking supplies they would need for dinner: a skinny rolling pin for the dumplings, several large mixing bowls, two cutting boards, Duncan’s kanso knives, and a frying pan for the dumplings as well as his copper wok--spices were lined there too, soy sauce (tamari and light) and garlic cloves and a long ginger root, sesame and olive oil, sriracha, and rice wine. “This is lovely, baby, thanks for setting everything out like this.”

“In anticipation of the evening,” she replied, coming back over to him and staring up at him--the sun hadn’t set yet, so the cool, low light of the the early evening was still illuminating the kitchen, but Duncan saw the lengthening shadows fall over her, through her hair.

“You look beautiful today,” Duncan said, reaching for her, gathering her against him, breathing in her scent. “Oh Kenzie, baby, I’m so glad to be home.”

“I’m glad you’re home too,” she whispered into him, her little hands skirting under his shirt, falling against his bare torso there, and he leaned into her touch, his lips on her forehead. “Let’s make dinner, okay?”

“I’m making the dumplings,” Duncan said. “I have to prove to you I can actually cook.” Kenzie laughed and nodded. “Okay, but I expect only the best, baby.” “Challenge accepted.”

Kenzie moved to the fridge as Duncan rolled up his sleeves, and she started to pass him the fresh vegetables--he pulled out one of his knives (“Kenz, you should see how great these knives are, watch,”) and started on the pork shoulder, slicing it into tiny tenderized morsels and tossing them in a clear glass mixing bowl beside him for the dumpling filling.

“Wow, baby, you weren’t kidding that you’ve made those before,” Kenzie marvelled, watching him work swiftly at the vegetables, chopping the green onion and garlic cloves and ginger root deftly, tossing them into the bowl as well. “Can I put on some music?” She looked up at him as he worked, her eyes shining, and he paused with the knife. “Baby, you don’t need to ask. This is your house. Everything here belongs to you.” With that Kenzie flitted away from him, that mischievous glint back in her eyes--and as Duncan finished combining the dumpling ingredients, he heard a jumping guitar line with heavy drums come over the speakers, a sultry masculine voice with a British accent bleeding in: I don’t want to go out, I want to stay in, get things done...he could hear Kenzie’s little voice coming back through the living room, singing along in lovely harmonization. She pointed at him playfully, using her fist as a pseudo microphone as he grinned at her, stirring the bowl with a long wooden spoon. “I catch a paper boy, but things don’t really change, I’m standing in the wind, but I never wave bye-bye--but I try, I try!” She wiggled her hips back and forth and tossed her hair and Duncan had to fight the urge to drop the bowl and grab her and press his mouth on hers. Fuck, I love this girl.

“This album is so hot,” Kenzie said, hopping around him, her skirt swirling around her legs, pulling more vegetables out of the fridge and bringing them over to the second cutting board to chop beside him. He leaned down to her and pressed a kiss into her mouth for a moment, stopping himself from tasting deeper even though he wanted to. One thing at a time. “It makes you want to dance and fuck at the same time. Ugh, I love it. You have such a great record collection, baby.” 

Duncan smiled at her. “If you notice anything that’s missing from it make sure you get it with that card I gave you, baby. I know it has some holes still.”

“Well, I noticed you don’t have all of Stevie’s solo albums, which is just not acceptable.” Kenzie was still wiggling her hips to Modern Love, and Duncan could see her toes doing the little lift and twist-out that seemed to be her tick.

“You know what to do, Kenz. Did you ever do ballet?”

“For all of elementary and middle school, yeah. I realized I was never going to be really good at it, my center of gravity is too low,” and Kenzie slapped a hand against her hip, indicating her natural curves there, “but old habits and all that.” Duncan watched her press one foot in front of the other at a side-angle, then move her arms from a low position to above her head, gracefully, turning up onto the balls of her feet, grinning at him.

“Fucking lovely,” he said, sincerely.

“Oh shut up, Mr. Shepherd.” Kenzie started chopping the vegetables, blushing deeply--Duncan could see the light sunburn on her cheeks from yesterday had already almost faded entirely, so the blush was her own. They grew quiet together, Duncan mixing the dumpling ingredients together in another bowl (flour, salt, boiling water), and Kenzie going to the streamlined stovetop to cook the eggs, then add them to the wok and toss the chopped vegetables in sequences--the garlic and onion, then the rest with the quinoa, using one of Duncan’s many long wooden spoons to toss it all. Duncan watched her in glances between kneading out the dough, then rolling it into round portions, spooning the filling into each one and pressing the edges together--Kenzie looked at him over her shoulder, her expression clearly surprised at how quickly and carefully he could fold them together.

“These are so easy to make, I’ve done them for dinner so many times,” Duncan said, a little embarrassed at her wondrous expression. “I still like ordering takeout, but teaching myself how to do these was one of my “adulting” milestones,” he laughed a little at himself, knowing it was true, and Kenzie rolled her eyes. “Getting away from mom’s constant hovering was one of the other big ones.” Her face softened at that, and she turned back to the wok. Duncan came up beside her with the dumplings lined carefully on the cutting board, frying pan in his other hand. As she tossed the quinoa he pressed his mouth into the side of her hair again, and Duncan felt her lean into him, her eyes fluttering closed. He doused the center of the pan with olive oil and let it warm for a moment, then lined the dumplings neatly in a swirling pattern with a pair of long chopsticks. He noticed Kenzie still watching him out of the corner of her eye, her expression bright--aroused. I didn’t know you could cook so well, baby, he heard her thought, the glow of it. God, it’s fucking sexy. You’re fucking perfect. The most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen and you can cook like that. And you have your own jet. And you have a big cock and eyes like the sky and your beautiful hands exploring me the way they do and your hair falling so perfectly and your mouth and the sweetness of your soul--

He pressed himself against her, hands roughly coming up to her neck and under her breast, the dumplings forgotten for a moment--”You better stop thinking about me like that, baby--” he moaned into her mouth, and Kenzie arched up into him, dropping the wooden spoon into the wok, her hands coming down to his belt to pull at it insistently, “or you can fucking forget about dinner. I’m fucking dying for you, Kenzie--”

“Shhhh, sorry baby, I’ll try to quiet down,” she whispered into him and her mouth was so wet and soft he wanted to force the waistband of her skirt down and bury his face between her legs right there, but she gently pushed him away and dutifully turned back to the wok, her face flushed, Bowie’s elegant voice ringing overhead (see these eyes so green, I can stare for a thousand years, colder than the moon, it’s been so long). Duncan willed himself down from his ardor and turned the electric off, using the long chopsticks to move the dumplings into two shallow black bowls. Kenzie’s quinoa fried rice seemed to be done, too--she flipped the switch on her side off as well and pulled a ladle from the wall where several utensils hung elegantly, moving carefully in front of him (Duncan reached a hand out and trailed it along her waist) to dish a healthy serving into each bowl beside the dumplings.

“Oh my god, this we have to take a picture of,” she said excitedly, pulling her phone out of one of the deep pocket hidden in the skirt. Duncan watched over her shoulder, as she chose a filter, smiling down at her screen--their handiwork really did look delicious.

“Pinot noir?” He asked, hiding how happy her eagerness made him. “It’s my favorite to pair with dumplings.”

“That sounds perfect, baby,” and he could see her typing a caption onto the post; Our first time cooking together, but you wouldn’t fucking know it!!! @duncanshepherd is secretly a master chef! I ain’t bad either. Duncan went into the study and pulled the glass door of his wine box open, selecting a hundred-dollar bottle from the temperature-controlled interior, a five-year vintage. When he emerged from the study, Kenzie was carefully stepping towards the bedroom, their shallow bowls in her hands, two pairs of chopsticks visible in her hand underneath one of them, two of his Linsmore Waterford wine glasses carefully tucked into the crook of her arm. He leaned his hand carefully over her and pulled them out of her grasp by the stems.

“I wanna eat in the bedroom, baby,” she said, eyes steady on him. “I wanna stare into our mirror and think about what we’re gonna do to each other.”

“Fuck, Kenzie,” and he laughed a little again. “You are killing me, baby. I beg of you, end my suffering.”

“Even Princes must be patient,” she replied, and turned away from him, angling her chin up.

This fucking angel. I’m gonna get you, baby. I’m gonna fuck you so good.

By the time Duncan came back in the bedroom with a bottle opener and a small tablecloth to drape on top of the sheets, Kenzie was in the bed, the bowls balanced carefully on her bare thighs--she’d taken her skirt off and was now in only her little lacy crop top and her underwear, the diamonds still glittering at her neck, her hair falling over her shoulder. An ache fell over him to look at her--god, fuck, so soon, hang on a little longer.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he said as she got up slowly to let him lay the linen down. He continued to stare at her as he opened the wine bottle, carefully pouring the dark liquid into the glasses, handing one to her after she settled again, their fingers brushing. He saw her eyes skirt back behind him, watching them in the glass of the mirror, looking at the glinting hook and chain that seemed to stare at them, waiting. Kenzie took a long drink, her throat bobbing as she swallowed twice, and leaned back to place the glass on the other nightstand.

“So are you,” she whispered. The record had stopped--the quiet hung around them, not unpleasant but deeply anticipatory, charged with their mutual desire--he could feel it coming off Kenzie is long, rolling golden waves, and he felt drunk already though he hadn’t even had a sip of the wine yet. “I was thinking of that night we went to Le Diplomate, all those roses in the bathtub--god, baby, that was such a wonderful night.”

“Every night feels like that now that you’re here,” he said, and Kenzie didn’t reply, only smiled at him, her eyes forest-bright, using one of her chopsticks to pop a dumpling into her mouth. “Fuck, Dunny, these are so fucking good,” she said, bringing a hand up over her mouthful as she spoke. “Can you make me some with chicken next time?”

Duncan laughed, untying his shoes and pulling them off, climbing onto the bed next to her, hand on her knee. This girl fucking loves chicken. My Kenzie. “Of course baby, you should have put it on the list. I would have made them for you tonight. I’ll make you anything you want, angel.”

“You’re my angel,” and Kenzie leaned up so her little ass was hovering in the air, and she kissed him and Duncan thought dinner can’t be over soon enough, baby. As they ate Kenzie told him about where she’d put all the things she’d unpacked today--going over the nuances of her thinking with him, and Duncan loved every moment of it--the excitement in her voice, the smile on her face, the movements of her hands as she waved them around to her words. “I wonder what Ben’s going to ask you tomorrow?” she said, cocking her head as she popped the last dumpling in her bowl into her mouth. Duncan had finished his food a moment before and was drinking a long mouthful from his wine glass--they were on their second round by now.

“No doubt something very invasive. I plan to be honest with him, but I was thinking of asking him to wait to publish the article he writes until the majority share reverts to me. I don’t...I don’t think it’s going to be very long, Kenzie, like I was telling you yesterday. I think my uncle’s going to die sooner than anyone thought.”

Kenzie was quiet, looking down. He couldn’t see her thoughts at all--they were too indistinct.

“It’s strange to think so much happiness might come from one person’s death,” she said eventually, and he could see the muddled sadness and contemplation in her eyes. “The world is so strange and obtuse sometimes.” He pulled her now-empty bowl from her hand and set it on the nightstand with his.

“Drink a toast with me, baby,” he said, gripping his wine glass. Kenzie seemed to emerge from her contemplative state, and reached behind her to bring her glass against his, giving him a small, secretive smile.

“To you, Mackenzie, and everything you’ve kindled in me. Only you.”

Kenzie’s eyes fell into his--a forest with a starry sky at night, he thought, and he saw the hidden tears there that she was unwilling to let fall. Duncan. My love.

They both drank, but neither of them broke the gaze that hovered between them. When Duncan lowered his glass, Kenzie leaned over to him again, her lips falling into his, tasting of salt and sweet red wine--and she whispered “It’s time for me to get dressed now, baby.”

Duncan groaned immediately--his eyes closing almost involuntarily, now that the moment had finally come.

“I’m gonna go get dressed in the bathroom. You can’t come in. Go get the shoes you want me to wear from the closet, okay? If I have heels on you...you’ll be able to reach me better,” and she kissed him again, her tongue falling into his, her fingers on his jaw--”I’ll come out when I’m dressed. The velvet ribbon is in the drawer with my underwear...the plug and my egg toy are in there too. You can decide what you want to use on me.”

“Fuck, baby--” and he tried to clutch her but she slipped away from him--skipping on her quick little feet in the lacy crop top and her white cotton underwear to the bathroom, swinging the door shut, glancing back at him with a grin--then he heard the lock click. Duncan fell back on the bed, another involuntary groan falling out of him, rubbing his hands down his face. This woman is legitimately everything I have ever wanted, and it makes me feel like I’m always on the verge of cardiac arrest. Get the fuck up and go to the closet, Duncan. You already know what shoes she’s wearing. You already know you’re using both of those toys on her. God, and that gorgeous choker around her little neck--Duncan launched himself off the bed and threw himself into the closet, yanking the drawer he knew he’d organized her (god, it seemed like hundreds) of pairs of panties in--the velvet ribbon, pink egg and the plug with the little white jewel in the end were to the far left, and they seemed to wink at him as he pulled them out. For Kenzie. It’s your duty to make her feel fucking good.

Duncan placed the toys and the thick ribbon carefully on the top of Kenzie’s side of the shelf--under the dangling line of her necklaces. He pulled his socks off, working at the buttons of his Oxford shirt, noticing how badly his hands were shaking--I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to fucking her, honestly, he thought. Every time I can’t believe it, I can’t believe I get to, I can’t believe she chose me, I can’t believe it, an actual fucking angel chose me, I can only try to make her feel as good as possible, I can try, god, Kenzie is so fucking beautiful, her hair and her eyes and her sweet clit and her little round breasts and the tiny dip of her waist and the rising curves of her hips, I’ll never forget how she looked in the starlight on that balcony, I knew, I fucking knew, didn’t I, that she was my fucking Soulmate--and heard a small ripping sound, realizing in his nervous eagerness he’d managed to tear the remainder of the buttons out of their seams towards the bottom. Duncan threw the shirt onto the floor, uncaring--and immediately reached to where he saw the tying strappy gold sandals Kenzie had worn the first night they met--that night, burned into my mind, into my soul, forever. Duncan moved back out into the bedroom, now only in his tailored chinos, the toys clutched in one careful hand, her heels in the other--then he placed everything he was holding gently on the bed, pulling the linen away, climbing onto the bed, leaning against the headboard in a sitting position, facing the bathroom door. Then--he waited, his heart slamming into his ribcage, his stomach somersaulting.

“Baby. Are you ready? Tell me when.”

He heard Kenzie’s voice from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Yes, baby.” He was careful to make his tone even and firm. “Come out.”

The door swung inwards and Kenzie emerged in the frame of it, pushing her golden hair back from her shoulders as she did--her cheeks wildly flushed in the low light, but he could see her desire to fight off her nervousness in her bright eyes--they glittered at him and she smiled. Hey baby.

“Hello, Mr. Shepherd.” Kenzie put her little hands on her hips, cocking her head to him, sending her breathy whisper out to him across the bed.

Holy fuck. Holy fuck, baby.

Duncan immediately sat up--all his composure lost in the rushing tide of need he felt as soon as he looked at her this way, as soon as his eyes fell over the delicate hold of the lingerie on her body--her little breasts and the dip of her hips outlined in the white framing and white flowers of the bra and panties, the sheer tulle embellishing the soft loveliness of her shape and laying it bare for him--the roundness of her nipples, hard in her arousal, and the lips of her sweetness between her legs, any hair there shaved away again, leaving her smooth as silk, held tight in the silky tulle--and the suspender belt around her waist, white flowers sewn along her there and a bow in the center, another in the middle of the waistband of the panties, straps down either thigh clipped to sheer stockings starting a few inches down, a stretch of bare leg between them. Kenzie clutched the rose choker in her hand, its silvery embellishment and dark, smooth black leather making him instantly hard--he felt blood rush into his cock with an almost painful intensity.

“Come here right now.” He didn’t mean for his tone to be so demanding, but it was out of him before he realized--his need was like a wave that had washed over him, sudden and colossal. He moved from the headboard to the side of the bed, pressing his feet carefully to the floor, sitting up straight and shirtless, and crooked his hand. Come, angel.

He saw her eyes flicker, felt the surge of emotion come out of her towards him--that’s it, baby, be rough with me, be bossy with me, be my Prince, driven wild with your need for me, I want your hunger, give me all your desire, pour it over me like honey. Then she stepped toward him, swaying her hips just a little, back and forth, her hair glowing, her eyes burning, and when she was close enough, Duncan reached forward with one hand, stretching his long finger to press it against her stomach just above her belly button where the strap of the suspenders laid across her waist, and said “Stop.”

She did, and Duncan could see the wild excitement more clearly in her eyes now--you love this, baby. Oh, Kenzie. You look like heaven. He trailed the finger down, relishing the shiver of her under his touch, being sure to stare into her eyes, down to the soft waistband of the panties, and down further, over their achingly smooth tulle, to dip between the lips of her sex through the fabric--he could feel the dampness there, feel how wet she was already--and a shudder fell down his spine, rocking his body forward toward her. He fought the urge to force her against him, to pull her into his mouth, and reached across the bed to the strappy heels, leaning down to her (bowing to you my love) to place them on the floor, facing her. Then Duncan reached for her little hands, pulling the choker out of one and setting it on the bed beside the other things there, and Kenzie stepped toward him carefully, knowing what he wanted without him having to speak.

Duncan slid off the edge of the bed, onto his knees in front of her, as she stepped carefully into the heels, and his hands came out to the straps, tying them with aching gentleness. Kenzie’s little hands fell down into his hair, and he heard a tiny moan escape from her mouth. He could see their reflection in the mirror behind her--the panties were entirely transparent in the back, showcasing her round little ass, kindling the desire growing low in the pit of his belly. God, I love your round little ass, baby, and you told me you want me to spank you, fuck. He looked away from the mirror, back up into her eyes, finishing one heel in a double-knot, his hands moving to the other ankle, meticulous and slow. As he finished, Duncan’s lips fell against the sheer stocking, his mouth moving up to the bare stretch of thigh between the straps on her legs--and Kenzie’s head fell back, a tiny, whimpering cry escaping her now.

He lifted his head up from his kisses, hands gripping into the bottom of her ass now, his eyes turned to her face. Kenzie smelled like roses and vetiver, but there was a muskiness underneath her perfume that reminded Duncan of the way he’d sometimes felt looking at The Youth of Bacchus alone in the middle of the night, the sleepless midnights he’d studied it to low music coming from his turntable, his mind hazy with bourbon and animalistic lust. The Bacchanalia. The revelry of the wine god. Wantonness. Your need for me, my love. “Okay, baby. Turn around now, and walk to the mirror, and lift your hands up to the chain, and hold it.”

“Uh huh, baby.” Kenzie’s voice was shiveringly low--and the supplicant edge in it made Duncan feel as though the seams of his mind were being pulled apart. This angel is going to unravel into soft sweet spools of pleasure into my hands and I don’t know if I can stand it. Kenzie turned towards the mirror--Duncan saw the flush rebound in her cheeks as she looked at herself fully there, and despite her shyness, he could tell she liked what she saw, liked herself with a desirous approval. That’s right, baby, you look fucking beautiful, and you know you do. That’s right. She stepped carefully to where the chain extended down, still staring at herself, a smile falling across her mouth, her lips painted lightly pink, and her eyes came back up into his in their mirror as she reached up to where the chain hung just above her, her grip loose and languid, her mouth opening a little, her little body stretching in the tulle lingerie just enough to bring a heady wave of need through his mind again.

“I’m gonna tie you to that hook now, baby.” Duncan continued to stare at her, reaching for the velvet ribbon from the corner of his eye in the mirror’s reflection, standing up. Kenzie couldn’t seem to suppress her grin--she bit into her lip as he approached her from behind, his mouth hovering just at her neck, but not touching her. She moaned a little, needy. “And then I’m gonna strap this tight around your little neck,” and his fingers trailed down the rose choker’s soft leather strap, now clutched tightly in his fist, his eyes inside hers. “And when you’re tied up nice and tight, baby--only then will I kiss you,” he whispered into her skin, and he watched a shiver extend up her back, the smile slipping away from her mouth, but she still bit into her lip, harder now, her breath more harsh. Duncan turned his eyes up to where the chain hung down, her little fingers twined in it--he placed the choker carefully on the floor beside them, then reached up with the ribbon, his fingers brushing against hers now, and she shivered again--then he pushed the end of the ribbon through one of the chain’s links, then across to the other that hung down beside it. He pulled the ribbon through until its length was evenly distended, then he crossed the two ends and brought the first one around Kenzie’s left wrist, twisting it around her twice--then did the same with her other wrist, and then he brought the two ends together with a yank, so Kenzie’s wrists were pressed together, tethered to the chain with just enough of a stretch to make her little chest rebound with a gasp. Then Duncan tied the two ends at the bottom of her wrists, now pressed together, in a firm double-knot.

“Try to move your wrists, baby.”

Kenzie pulled down, struggling against her constraints. Her wrists stayed tightly bound, her body now prostrate in the mirror, lifted up so he could see every inch of her in the white-and-transparent-tulle ensemble, and Duncan couldn’t help but feel hot, aching arousal at the power he knew he had over her in this moment--now, you’re mine.

“Baby,” Kenzie breathed. “The straps are underneath my panties--so you can slip them off without having to unclip the suspender. So you can fuck me with everything else still on.”

Duncan’s eyes fluttered close at her words--another surge of need through the length of his cock, staggering him. “I’m gonna strap your choker on now, baby.” He watched her breath catch as her shoulder blades rose and fell, a little more labored now with the effort to breathe with her arms lifted above her head, and he leaned down to grasp it, unbuckling it carefully with measured, slow precision, their eyes locked. The choker came unbuckled with an oiled silence--Duncan lifted it around her chin and he saw her eyes flash, seem to spin (the universe inside her, turning, colossal, its greatness focused on me) as he carefully pressed its smooth underside against the white, delicate rise of her neck. Kenzie breathed in, once, sharply--her mouth fell open, and her breath rattled out, overwhelmingly fragile and gossamer-slight. Duncan steadied his mind and the surge of heat to his groin, then brought the buckle around the back, deftly pulling the strap through the metal trappings, one end, then the other, and culled it until the choker was stretched tight around her, the rose winking below her jaw in the clear-golden sheen of the mirror. Duncan tugged it one more time--Kenzie gasped a little at the tightness, but didn’t protest.

“Good, baby, good,” he murmured into her ear, his hand coming around to trail down the rose, down the strap below her jaw, checking that it wouldn’t constrict her airway too much--checking that it was tight enough--snug to the point of the edge. “Baby, you’re doing so good--you’re my angel baby, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, baby, Duncan, yes, I’m yours. I’m yours, my Prince.”

“Kenzie. Okay. I’m gonna take your panties off now. And then I’m going to kiss you.”

“Yes, baby, please.” The desperate longing in her voice--Kenzie was begging now, her little mouth dipping open, her eyes shining. He could see tears at the edges of them--”Please kiss me, baby.” God, that rose. My little rose. My achingly sweet Persephone, supine in my hands.

Duncan brought his hands, gently, to the edges of the achingly delicate panties, and then he slid them, carefully, quickly, down from her hips, exposing the smooth hairlessness of her vulva, glimmering with moisture, and the cheeks of her round ass, shivering under his gaze, the bottom of her golden hair brushing against the small of her back. Kenzie stepped out of them as he brought them down around her feet in the little golden heeled sandals, kneeling again--this time he pressed his mouth into the delicate space at the back of her knee, and Kenzie’s leg buckled, a moan falling out of her, this one louder and full of need, her head coming back and her wrists straining against the velvet. “Ahh, baby--”

“Shhhhh,” he soothed, looking at her in the mirror, the shiver of her breasts in the sheer tulle, the tightness of the straps on her thighs, the tiny dip of her waist wrapped in the tailored suspender, the wonderful curve of her hourglass shape. “Shhhhh, baby, we’re just getting started. Stay with me, Kenzie.”

“Uhh, Duncan--”

Duncan kissed further up her thigh until his lips pressed into the round softness of her asscheek--she leaned back into his mouth, her eyes rolling upwards--Duncan bit softly into the flesh there, his fingers twining through the straps along either edge of her backside, and she cried out a little again, softly. He worked his way up, his mouth pressing into the small of her back and then up the delicate incline of her spine, pushing her hair aside with a firm hand, gripping it with a delicate, possessive tightness. His other hand came around to the silky tulle around her breasts, caressing her with a slowly building need, feeling around her hard nipples, a heady roughness buried in his touch, and Duncan’s mouth pressed into her shoulder blades, first one, then the other, then into the nape of her neck where he could feel the hairs there prickling under the choker as she shivered, her head dipped to the side, her eyes half-lidded, lost in the sensation of his touch. He moved around to face her, glancing at them in the mirror for a moment (we looking fucking good together baby--you’re my goddess of spring, aching and open and bursting into bloom, I’m your god of shadows and riches, I’m yours entire), then turning to her.

“I’m going to take the rest of my clothes off, then I’m going to kiss you more, baby.”

“Okay,” she whispered, “Show me that gorgeous cock, baby.” Kenzie’s wrists strained around her confinement again--her eyes shimmered at him, full of lust now, and he could see the way the choker was laboring her breathing--flushing her cheeks, forcing her mouth to hang open.

Duncan leaned back, his back touching the coldness of the mirror behind him--and he lazily pulled at his waistband, pushing the chinos down until they pooled at his ankles, kicking them away, eyes buried in the sight of her, shivering, wrapped in velvet ties, strapped into transparent tulle, gold hair in the light, pink lips open for him, the choker gripping her throat. Time to frustrate you, my little angel, all tied up and about to get fucked so hard--but not quite yet.

He dipped his hand down into his tight black briefs, biting his lip a little, staring into her liquid eyes--Duncan moaned as his fingers fell along his erection, its mound straining through the fabric--Kenzie whimpered, eyes fluttering and he grinned at her.

“You like that, huh, angel? You like watching me touch myself?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Yes. I love it.”

“I’m gonna fuck you hard, baby.”

“Uh huh.” Kenzie’s mouth opened more, and her little tongue came out to lick along her bottom lip, her labored breathing making her shoulder blades cascade up and down, her stomach shudder, her thighs shiver. “Please, baby. Please fuck me, baby.”

He pushed the briefs off with a lazy hand, slowly, the other one still gripping his length--a sigh of pleasure fell out of Kenzie’s mouth as her eyes fell over his nakedness, and Duncan let go of his cock, leaning off the mirror and standing straight, the better to absorb her gaze, loving the way her gold-flecked eyes roved up and down his thick length, hungry for him. His hands came against her hips, gripping her against him with a heavy demand, and he pressed his erection flat against her stomach, his mouth coming against hers and his tongue pressing against her tongue, probing into her insistently--he felt her buckle downwards again, shuddering, and pulled her little body up into him with strong hands, dipping one down between her legs, his fingers pushing up into the wetness of her cunt, one finger, then two, then three, and Kenzie arched into his kiss, her eyes closed and the moans now falling out of her in a steady, soft wave. “You’re mine, aren’t you, angel,” he asked as his mouth crashed against hers (sweet honey, wine, spiced nectar), and heard her murmurs and her probes into his mind “Yes, I fucking am,” I belong to you beloved, “I’m yours baby,” Fucking fuck me now baby, “I’m yours forever, I belong to you,” Gimme that cock baby, gimme that big cock, I need you so fucking much, I’m your baby, your angel, I’m fucking weak for you, I can feel myself coming undone--

Duncan broke away from her, loathe to do so but eager for the other things he’d left on the bed--Kenzie whined as he stepped away from her to grip the plug and the egg--he came back around to face her, his back to the mirror again, clutching them both with one hand, and the other hand came out to grip onto her neck harshly against the metal and the leather, pressing her mouth roughly into his again, hushing her lamentations and her need. “Shhhh, baby, be calm. Stay calm. We have a ways to go. Shhhhh, breathe.”

Duncan loosened his grip on her neck and Kenzie sucked in a deep breath--it shuddered out and he felt the pressure of her under his finger tips, the shiver of her throat and the leather and her skin. “I love your hand there, baby,” she murmured, a dazed sheen in her eyes. “I just love that so much.”

“I love you, baby,” he whispered, dipping his face down to hers so his lips hovered over hers, without letting them touch. “To touch you is...heaven. To touch you everywhere like this--it’s fucking heaven. You tell me if anything is too much, okay?”

“Mhmm, baby.”

“I’m gonna touch you more, okay? Kiss me.”

Duncan let his mouth fall down on hers again; Kenzie lifted up into him, her tongue pressing into him again, and his hand came down from her neck to fondle at her breast under the tulle, then he kissed along her jaw and her neck and into the dip of her clavicle and his lips pressed into the tulle around her nipple as his hand went between her bare thighs again, his fingers going into her cunt and emerging wet with her arousal, and he slid his index finger up into her clit, lubricating her as he bit softly into the fabric that covered her breast, and she keened up into him, crying up towards where the hook was now buried in the ceiling. Duncan probed into her cunt again, and then his wet fingers slid back to the pucker of her ass and pressed inside, wetting it with her need, too--back and forth, until everything under his fingers was shuddering and soaking wet, and then he slid the plug into her cunt for a moment--wetting it too, Kenzie rocking back and forth in her constraints--then pushed it into her ass as he stared into her eyes and her mouth lifted up to him and she let out a sound that was halfway between a sob and a moan--he shushed her with his lips, kissing her deeply, soothingly, sending calming waves of gold-silver into her from the center of himself, and he felt her soften under him, felt her soothe, felt her calm inside the intensity of the moment.

“Okay, baby, breathe,” he whispered into her again, and Kenzie nodded, wrists straining a little against the velvet again, hair shimmering, eyes wide--he pressed gently into the jeweled end of the plug and she shivered, but didn’t cry out this time, biting into her lip. “I’m gonna use this on you now.” He opened his palm with the pink egg inside it. “And then I’m gonna fuck your sweet little pussy. And then I’m gonna fuck your tight little ass.” He pressed against her again, hands clutching at her asscheeks, spreading them out from the plug, making her gasp. “And you’re gonna tell me when to spank you. And you’re gonna tell me when to stop, okay? Okay, baby? And I’m gonna do what you say. And I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good, Kenzie, my Kenzie, I love you--”

“Yes, baby, fuck yes, yes, I love you,” Kenzie was shuddering helplessly again.

“Breathe, baby, just breathe, okay? Remember to breathe.”

“Uh huh, okay--” Kenzie blinked rapidly, shook her head a little as if to clear the haze away, and  Duncan thought fuck, Kenzie, I fucking love you so fucking much, I love you so much, I love you, I love you and then he turned the knob on the egg and the rounded end hummed with vibration and he brought it up, carefully but pointedly, into the mound of her clit between her legs--Kenzie jerked forward, lifting her neck, her eyes drifting upwards again and then into his, her mouth open and her moan immediate. “Dunny--baby--fuck, I can’t--fuck, that feels--uhhhh--” and with that Duncan moved around behind her, clutching the egg harshly against her as she keened back into him, her moans rising in intensity, and he looked up at her in the mirror now, looked at her little wrists tied tightly into the velvet, looped through the chain that hung from the sturdy hook far above them, gazed over the cascade of her soft chestnut hair and her eyes, half-lidded, overcome, staring into his over her shoulder, the white fall of her arms extended helplessly, the flash of the silvery rose under her chin and the tight strap of the leather buckled tightly against her neck, the erotic loveliness of her body in the lingerie, fitted against her with its achingly tight touch, the straps at her thighs and the bareness between her legs where he pressed the egg between her lips on the round bud of her clit, her slender legs in the sheer stockings and her little feet strapped into the golden heels, and his lust crested into the front of his mind and he pushed himself, dripping with precum and painfully hard and raw, into the wet canal between the plug inside her little ass and the rise of her clit, an impossibly warm space that seemed as though it was made for him and him alone.

“Duncan, fuck me,” he heard her voice, suddenly very clear and very demanding, a clear command that he knew he had to obey, knew he would obey fully, and pressing the egg harshly into her clit Duncan pounded his length in and out of Kenzie with a primitive concentration that demanded he remove any other thought from his mind--there was nothing for awhile but the two of them locked together, Duncan staring into the shape of her in the mirror, this mirror like a spell that’s weaving us together even more tightly, even more utterly, irrevocably, a spell around our sex that will make us close beyond all earthly pleasure, fucking her with an intensity of sensation that left them both speechless and unable to feel the reality of anything except the press of his thick length into the stretch of her cunt, up into her, so deep he wondered if he’d ever reemerge. Duncan’s hand shuddered and he dropped the egg from her clit--”I need to touch you baby, I want to touch you--” he murmured, and Kenzie nodded, her mouth open, her moans returning, sucked back into her lungs. “I’m so--fuck, baby, I’m so--god, you feel--like we’re locked together--”

“I know baby, I know--fuck--”

Duncan pressed his middle finger into her clit, rubbed back and forth, wetting it with her arousal, slicked along the space between the lips of her--let his finger fall down to the opening where his cock was pounding into her, unceasingly--back up into her clit, and his other hand coming up to her neck again, his mouth biting down into her shoulder. Kenzie let out a little scream of pleasure--one that reverberated in his skull like someone had rung a giant bell right next to his ear, and Duncan pressed his hand into her neck more harshly, cutting off her cries--”Shhhh, baby, be inside it with me--breathe, feel me, feel all of it--”

Kenzie quieted, and he could feel her throat working under his hand, trying to catch her breath--he loosened his grip and she gasped, and as he fucked her, pounding his entire length into her again and again he pushed his index and middle fingers roughly into her mouth. “Suck, baby, suck,” he demanded, and he watched her eyes flutter open and shut as her lips closed around his skin, doing as he instructed needily, a thin line of saliva dripping down the side of her mouth as his palm gripped around her chin, his mouth at the space under her ear, open and desperate for her, his senses overwhelmed in her.

“I’m gonna fuck your ass now baby, okay--” and he watched her nod in the mirror, knew she wanted him to, and Duncan pulled out of her and waited for a moment, lifting her down a little, his mouth staying there, breathing into her skin, and he moved his hand down to grip at the plug gently--he felt the pressure against his hand as she pushed it out of her, and Duncan dropped it on the floor, instantly forgotten. Then he took a deep breath and stared at her--her expression was dazed and her eyelids fluttered again, and then she nodded to him again as he pulled his fingers out of her mouth. “Do it, baby,” she said. “And spank me.”

Duncan positioned the head of his cock at the entrance of Kenzie’s tight little asshole--then he pressed into her, his eyes rolling back--Kenzie let out another little aching cry, but this one was more controlled, edged with a demand for pleasure--that’s it, baby, Duncan thought into her, feel it with me, I know you’re doing it now, it’s like we’re coming together, against each other, blending into each other--and then he brought his palm down, flat and insistent, on her right asscheek with a loud snap.

“Oh fuck yes, Duncan,” Kenzie said, and her voice was demanding now, as he moved his cock in and out of the impossible tightness of her, her eyes full of such an intensity of gold he felt mesmerized by them, utterly unable to look away. “Do it again.”

Duncan brought his hand up, hovering for a moment, then back down again with even more force--the snap that reverberated off Kenzie’s skin echoed up into the high ceiling and Kenzie gasped, the sound of her sharp and heavy in his ears. “Yes. Fucking yes. Again.”

Duncan’s eyes drifted closed--fuck baby, that makes me so fucking hard. Fuck, that unravels me into a thousand strands, your commands, your ecstasy at this from me. He steeled himself, then lifted his left hand this time--he brought it down at an angle, and as his slap reverberated off her skin he saw the immediately outline of his hand begin to form there--the harsh red marks on her right were forming as well. “Fuuuuuuck me,” Kenzie moaned, and Duncan continued to plunge himself in and out of her--let it go, let it all go, he thought into her, let everything that isn’t us go, baby, your little wrists in velvet, your body in silken bindings and dark leather at your perfect throat, your needs prostrate against my needs, our souls pressing into each other, baby--Duncan brought his hand down against her left asscheek three more times in quick succession until Kenzie was whimpering on the edge of tears--”Baby, should I stop--” he said, breathing harshly--

“No, baby, no, don’t stop, don’t stop--”

Duncan sucked in a deep breath, his body shuddering--he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on now, such was the grinding need gnawing into him from where the lips of her impossibly tight ass were gripping at his cock--and he hesitated, loathe to hurt her, even for her pleasure. “Please, just a little more, baby,” she murmured as he did, and then Kenzie’s eyes met his in the mirror again and she said “Do as I say, baby, fucking spank me,” and he moved his hand up over her right cheek again and brought it down three times in quick succession, each one harder than the last, and she gasped and shuddered and she said “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” and then Kenzie was looking into his eyes through the mirror’s crystalline surface as she screamed and lifted herself back into him, straining against her bound wrists, and Duncan moved his face down to the space beneath her ear again and continued to fuck her as he watched the spasm of her cunt, watched the wetness of her release drip down her legs in the reflection, watched her eyes flutter closed and then he was coming deep inside her and groaning into her neck, the sweet sweat of her on his tongue, one hand pressed tightly to her clit, the other coming up into her hair and twisting there. “Baby, Kenzie, sweet angel, beloved, Kenzie, princess, baby love--” his words bled out of him until he couldn’t stop, murmuring every sweetness he could think of into her as she gasped, and the muskiness of her was overwhelming to him, and he felt lost in it as if she were a sky full of stars and he were floating inside her vastness, untethered, minute. Then he came back to himself and pulled out of her, watching the thin line of come that fell out of the head of his cock, down his thigh and the inside of the back of her leg, dripping down the space behind her knee. 

Duncan immediately reached up and worked at the knots that pushed Kenzie’s wrists together--he could see how she was sagging against them, her knees shaking, and he worked quickly to untether her--as he lifted her down from the chain Kenzie seemed to collapse down toward the floor, and Duncan reached behind her shoulders, bringing her gently earthwards where she hovered in his arms, her face turned against him, her cheek resting on his bare chest as he looked down at her, worried, gently clasping her wrist, red with the harshness of her straining, and kissed it again and again--lifted her other wrist to mouth to repeat the motions, over and over, fretting over her. His hand came up to work at the buckle around her neck, quickly pulling the choker away--he moaned a little to see the red marks it had left on her throat, his fingers coming up to massage her there, watching the shudder of her breathing--

“Kenzie, are you okay, is everything okay, your body--”

“Yes, baby,” her voice was tiny but she gave him a sleepy smile, her eyes fluttering open. “Yes, Dunny, I’m okay. I feel amazing.”

He smiled down at her with relief--then Duncan lifted her up and carried her to the bed, laying her with aching softness on top of the duvet, eyes still roving over her face with concern, hands coming down to the laces of her heels, undoing them carefully and quickly with soft hands, dropping the shoes on the floor. God, was that okay, is she okay, she seems like she’s on the verge of passing out, is she really okay--

Kenzie’s eyes snapped open--they were surprisingly clear suddenly, and she looked down at him, cocking her head on the pillow.

“My green tea ice cream!” she said, suddenly. “I want it.”

Duncan gave her a puzzled look, winced, then burst into a peal of laughter.

“Kenzie. Baby. Fuck. Kenzie. You are...you’re the most wonderful person I have ever known, Mackenzie Stone.”

She smiled at him, her eyes hazy-bright, and he felt her push her love into him--resplendent and approving and satisfied--and then Kenzie shut her eyes again.

“Thank you, baby. I feel the same way about you. Now, can you go get me my ice cream, please?”

[singingwordwright]

Untitled: Malec Rock Star AU concept

Okay, after @ohfreckle​ and @faejilly​ so cruelly encouraged me yesterday, I had to at least take this concept out for a test drive.

The plot still hasn’t come together fully, this is totally unedited and unbetaed so far, and I have no posting schedule planned for it. Also, I have no idea what s3 is going to do to my head and whether it’s going to drive this story totally out and fill my brain with other stuff. Thus, like the D&D concept, I’m not putting it up on AO3 yet, because I don’t want to start anything else I may not finish.

However, for those of you who were intrigued, I thought I’d give you a hint of what it would look like.

Also, this piece is 100% inspired by @noksindra​‘s fanart based on the People’s Sexiest Men photoshoot, and I’ll be borrowing each characters’ instrument/role in the band from that, as well as the band and album names. Credit goes to them for that portion.

Anyway, enjoy!

Trigger warnings for sham marriages, drinking, mentions of past drug use, and past minor character death.

Gideon’s dark hair was soft beneath Alec’s fingers. He sat on the edge of the bed in the Captain America-themed bedroom they decorated together last year and stared down at his sleeping son, eyes burning and his throat tight.

Rubbed a shaking hand across his mouth, nearly overwhelmed by the temptation to go crawl into his own bed and hide away to avoid the pending confrontation.

Or, alternatively, he could get his shit together.

Eventually, headlights painted the wall, splashing harsh light into the quiet, comfortable darkness. Since there were only two houses on their—his—cul-de-sac, and the other one was currently empty, it wasn’t hard to guess whose car had just arrived.

Lydia’s key jingled in the lock. The front door squeaked softly as it opened, and clicked quietly shut. He could hear her in the dining room, the clink of crystal suggesting she’d made a stop by the liquor cabinet he hadn’t gotten around to purging.

Alec sighed and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, then rose.

As he thought, there are two whiskey glasses on the dining room table. Lydia hadn’t turned the dimmer switch up very high; she sat there in semi-darkness, staring down at her folded hands.

“Alec, I’m so sorry about Max and Jace,” she said before he could speak.

“Yeah, well, that might have meant more if you’d actually been there at the funeral,” he replied tightly. Which was unfair. His parents had never really warmed to her and his father had been convinced he’d shot his career in the foot, marrying and having a child so young. They wouldn’t have wanted Lydia at the funeral.

Rather than deal with all that, though, he gestured to the glasses. “You shouldn’t have poured those. Simon and I made a pledge after we—well, after. The band is going totally dry.”

Lydia snorted. “Easy pledge for you and Simon to make. Neither of you likes to drink much.”

Alec took a chair, but didn’t pick up his glass. “Still, we thought it would be easier for everyone…”

“And it will. But do you think it’s going to help Jace later, when you’re on the road, if you refuse to have a drink with me tonight, to make a difficult conversation go more smoothly?”

“Good point, counselor.” Alec sighed and lifted his drink. The whiskey seared his throat and he shuddered, but the warmth that radiated from his stomach soothed his temper and nerves, and damn Lydia for right about that.

“How was Gideon this weekend?” she asked once their glasses were empty.

“How do you think?” He pressed his lips together, because that was way more snarly than he wanted to be in this conversation. The sudden surge of anger didn’t surprise him much; he’d been tamping it down for almost a week. But a lot of it had nothing to do with Lydia and if he unleashed the part of it she did own, he’d end up heaping the rest of it on her as well.

“I spent all weekend answering the same question over and over: why won’t he and mommy be living with me anymore. And I had to bullshit my way through it every time, because I don’t even know the answer!”

“Alec—”

“No!” His hand shot up, cutting her off, and his well-intentioned effort not to rip into her verbally hung by a precariously thin thread. “I get an email from you one day telling me you’re taking Gideon out to your grandparents’ old place in the country, so you won’t have internet or phone. Which would have been fine but it meant I couldn’t reach you after the accident. And then I get home from burying one brother and delivering the other to fucking rehab, only to find divorce papers sitting on my goddamn table, with a note saying you’d talk to me when you got back. Then, two weeks later, you call saying you’re back and you’ll stop by and drop Gideon off to spend the weekend with me, and we could talk after he fell asleep. Well, fine. Here we are, Lydia. Our son’s asleep and I think I’m finally entitled to a damned explanation.”

She gave him a long, tired look, and reached for the decanter of whiskey once again.

“You are,” she said after pouring another shot and taking a slow sip. “But first you’re entitled to an apology. I left the divorce papers and the note three days before the accident. I was out in the country when the news about Max and Sebastian and Jace broke. Please believe me, I would have wanted to be here. I would have done things entirely differently if I’d known—”

“Yeah, I get it. You didn’t mean to kick me in the balls while I was already down, it was just bad timing.” Alec scrubbed his hands over his face until his eyes stopped burning. “Sorry. That was unnecessary.”

“No, it wasn’t. You’re totally justified in being angry with me. I needed space to think and prepare myself for this conversation, but I ended up making what was a terrible time for you far worse, and not being there to support you when you needed me. I truly am sorry for that.”

Alec closed his eyes and swiped the back of his hand across his damp lashes. “I just want to know why. We were a family. I thought we were happy. What am I missing?”

She didn’t quite roll her eyes at him, but there was an incredulous really? riding heavily on the wry gaze she fixed on him.

“What, are you trying to make me say it?”

His hackles rose at that knowing look. It left him feeling exposed and defensive. “Why not?” He flung out a hand. “You’re the one with all the damn answers!”

“Not this one, Alec. This one can’t come from me. You need to be the one to say it.”

“Don’t.” He clenched his jaw and looked down at the table until his temper was back under control. “Have I ever done anything to make you think—” Except, of course, it was what he hadn’t done that confirmed what she’d always suspected and he’d never said. Dammit. “Have I ever been papped in a compromising situation or done anything to end up on the gossip blogs?”

“No, of course not. You’d never take that risk with the morals clause still in your contract with Idris Records, nor would you humiliate me that way. I’ve always appreciated that about you. But I need more.”

More. A more that he couldn’t offer. “You know I wouldn’t mind if—”

Then she did roll her eyes. “Oh, yeah, that’d be terrific. I’d get papped slinking away from some illicit encounter. I’d be vilified all over the blogosphere as the scarlet woman who broke shy, quiet Alec Lightwood’s heart. The Nephilim would probably have to break ties with my firm, which would cost me my job, but at least you’d become a media and fangirl darling for fifteen milliseconds. Robert Pattinson Goes Rock-n-Roll.”

He didn’t have an answer for that, because of course she was right. They’d somehow managed to trap each other, when they’d always intended the exact opposite. He nodded, hanging his head.

“We were using each other and you know it. Not callously; we truly care about one another, but not the way we’re supposed to. Not in the way that will sustain a marriage.” She stared at him levelly. “We each had something the other needed for a time. I needed a husband after John died, because I didn’t want to be a single mom just finishing law school, and because John’s awful family would have made a bid for custody if they’d known about the baby, and they had enough money that they might have won.”

She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. They’d had very frank discussions at the time about how his coloring was similar enough to John’s that no one would question it if he’d claimed the baby was his.

“And you needed a plausible excuse for why you never banged any groupies or showed up to events with some up-and-coming starlet or model on your arm,” she concluded, her voice subdued.

Alec’s mouth twisted. The idea that he was a devoted family man helped bolster his appeal with some of the band’s audience. Jace cultivated the image of the wild party boy, while Alec was the deadpan sidekick who kept him grounded. It played well in interviews.

Except now it was clear Alec had failed spectacularly at fulfilling his role.

He huffed in irritation. “Okay, so it wasn’t a traditional marriage, but it was working. At least, I thought it was. When did that change?”

“When I got lonely, Alec.” Lydia’s eyes were sad when she met his startled glance. “I know you being off touring is part of the package, and for a long time, I was okay with that. After losing John, when Gideon was little and I was so wrapped up in him and starting my career, I didn’t want anyone else. But it’s been six years, and I’m ready to try to find someone. And I—”

Her voice hitched and her eyes swam. She hasn’t wept in front of him since the day Gideon was born, looking exactly like John. “I care about you enough that I started coming dangerously close to deluding myself. Telling myself that maybe you and I could make it...make it real. Maybe I just hadn’t ever tried to be attractive to you, and it wasn’t that you couldn’t want me, it’s just that you were being a gentleman, giving me time to get over John. That you might want me once I let you know I was ready.”

Alec sniffled and wiped his eyes again. Hurting Lydia was the last thing he’d ever wanted to do, yet somehow, just by existing as who he was, he’d managed to do just that. After all the blows he’d taken these past few weeks, that was one too many.

“That’s when I knew I had to get out.” She shrugged, her smile forced but fond. “But you? You don’t like change. I know leaving the divorce papers was cowardly, but I didn’t know how to convince you it was time to let go. I thought if I gave us both a few weeks to settle in with the idea before we talked about it—”

“Alright. Alright. I get it.” His breath shuddered, but he nodded, lifting his head. “Okay. So what do we do now?”

“We sign the papers, and release a statement through your publicist that we are amicably divorcing, our son continues to be our top priority, we’d appreciate privacy during this time of transition, et cetera et cetera. Then, you take a while to heal and support Jace in his recovery. I’ll work on buying out Sebastian Morgenstern’s rights to The Nephilim’s brand and catalog. In fact, I’m already on it.”

Alec bared his teeth in fury at the mere name of the drummer who had gotten Jace hooked on drugs. Sebastian had been behind the wheel, higher than a fucking kite, the night of the accident. Yet somehow he walked away with only a few bruised ribs while Max…

Dammit.

Lydia gave Alec a moment to seethe, then continued, “Once Isabelle has had time to grieve, she’ll return from staying with your parents and begin work on finding The Nephilim a new drummer and front man. Then I’ll do what I do and handle the contracts.”

“I don’t think we can do that,” Alec said, shaking his head. “Ask Izzy to replace Max?”

“She’s your manager, Alec. Who else is going to do it?”

“I’m just… The Nephilim happened because of Max. Yeah, Simon and I were the songwriters, but it was Max as the child-prodigy with the angel face that really made it happen. I’m not sure the band can exist without him. I’m not sure I want it to.”

Lydia frowned. “So you’re all...just going to retire? Try for solo careers?”

“Come on, Lydia. We both know I don’t have the vocal chops for a solo career.” Alec snorted. “Simon could pull it off, and maybe Jace if he can keep his nose clean, but I’m just, you know, Tony Banks. I’ll always be stuck playing keyboards and singing backup.”

“You’re a brilliant songwriter, Alec. You and Simon together. Max may have been the face of The Nephilim, but you are the soul.”

Alec’s cheeks warmed. “Thanks. But not the point. Actually, we were thinking of forming a new band. Simon and I talked about it over coffee after Max’s wake. We didn’t want to put it on Izzy to try to find someone to fill his shoes, and we knew it wouldn’t be the same anyway, so we were thinking maybe building something new of the skeleton of The Nephilim. Like the core members of Joy Division forming New Order, or David Grohl moving on from Nirvana to Foo Fighters.”

“Mike Rutherford forming Mike + the Mechanics while Genesis was taking a break,” she added, picking up on his chain of thought.

“Exactly. Eric Clapton and Jimmy Page going from The Yardbirds to Cream and Led Zeppelin, respectively.”

“It’s risky.” Crystal chimed as Lydia tapped her fingernail against her empty glass. “It rarely works out as well as it did for Grohl and Page. You’d be giving up all the branding you’ve built as The Nephilim and starting from scratch. Some diehard fans might follow you, the same way they would if you decided to split up and try for solo careers, but you’d lose a big chunk of your audience.”

Alec shrugged. “Max is—was—The Nephilim. This is the way it has to be.”

“All right. There’s going to be a whole stack of new contracts that will need to be negotiated, then. Like whether the new band will have the rights to The Nephilim’s old catalog and brand. But that’s something to figure out once you have a singer and drummer. I assume, even if you won’t be using the The Nephilim band name anymore, you don’t want Sebastian to have rights to it?”

“I’ll fucking kill him if he tries,” Alec growled, and buckled in to talk business.

“Magnus Bane,” Izzy announced two months later, apropos of nothing as she slid into the booth across from Alec.

Alec rubbed his forehead. “That name sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it.”

“What name?” Simon asked, returning from flirting with the bartender. Or whatever passed for flirting with him. Jace had never quite managed to get a grip on his jealousy over Simon’s inexplicable appeal to girls. Jace was the one with the golden-boy good looks and charm, the one whose skill on the bass was frequently compared to greats such as Sting and Geddy Lee. But Simon, with his nerdy hipster appeal and adequate but less showy handling of the lead guitar, always topped the popularity polls, far ahead of Jace.

Alec, for his part, just wanted them both to shut up about it.

Izzy leaned over until her chin rested on Simon’s shoulder, her hand slipping into his lap as she peered past him toward the bar. “She’s cute.”

Simon smirked and kissed her jaw. “If you want to find out if she’s into girls, you have to ask her yourself. Her name’s Maia.”

Izzy mock-pouted. “I didn’t come up in conversation?”

He shook his head fondly. “Nope. Two things guaranteed to get a girl to stop talking to me. One: mentioning I have a girlfriend, and two: acting like some skeezy asshole and asking a girl if she might be interested in a threesome with me and my girlfriend. No way, not going there. Besides, she’s really nice.”

“Oh!” Izzy’s eyes widened. “You like her. Well, how about I ask her out for you? That way, she knows all about me and there’s no danger of her assuming you’re a cheating creep.”

“Or you could ask her out for yourself?” he shot back as Alec wished that his glass of cola was large enough to dunk his head in and drown out their conversation.

“Who says I won’t ask her out for both of us?”

“Can we please, for the love of God, get back to the subject?” Alec demanded.

Simon and Izzy both gave him guilty looks, which Alec interpreted to mean they’d literally forgotten he was there.

“Right.” Simon cleared his throat and folded his hands together on the table before him. “Something about a name?”

“Magnus Bane,” Izzy announced again, triumphantly.

“Oh! The guy who went viral after he was on that reality show! Which one was it, again? He was good!”

Alec gritted his teeth. “Let’s assume for a moment that I don’t know what the hell either of you are talking about and clue me in.”

Izzy sighed and pulled out her phone, poking at it as she spoke. “Last year, Magnus Bane made it past the audition rounds on one of the reality singing competition shows. He was incredible, but the producers had already decided who was going to win and they made sure that happened. Magnus was eliminated four weeks from the finale, but by then his first performance on the show had gone hugely viral and he’d built a fan base. Enough so that, even though he didn’t win the competition, the labels took notice. He happened to sign with Idris recently, and now that the deal is inked, his manager has been auditioning talent to back him as a solo artist. But rumor has it he’s a Nephilim fan, and I think I could convince the label, and his manager, to let him join our new project instead.”

She passed her phone over, along with her wireless earbuds. Alec inserted them, unpaused the video she had loaded for him...

...and promptly forgot how to breathe.

Magnus Bane was amazing. His voice was a smoky bari-tenor with just the right amount blues-tinged whiskey-and-growl. His fashion sense was glamorous without being either ostentatious or campy, and his eyeliner was sultry enough to oust Dave Navarro from Alec’s catalog of wet dream fodder and make Bowie and Lambert look like a toddlers who’d gotten into their moms’ makeup kits.

He strutted across the stage like sex on legs, wild and dangerous and...kind of sweet, too. It was there, easy to miss, but lurking in the way a dimple appeared when he smiled at the applause when he was done performing.

“He’s, um...wow.” Alec passed the phone and earbuds back to Izzy. “He’s not much like Max, though, is he?”

She smiled sadly, leaning against Simon, who rubbed her shoulder. More than any of them, Izzy blamed herself for what had happened to Max. She’d been the one to persuade them that Sebastian was the right fit for The Nephilim, after all. “Is that really a bad thing? If it’s actually going to be a new band, we need a new image.”

“Yeah, but, musically, I mean.” Alec forced himself to ignore the part of himself that was salivating at the idea of writing music for Magnus’s voice. “Can we adapt to playing with someone whose style is so different?”

Simon’s hand shot into the air. “I volunteer as tribute!”

Alec blinked. “Huh?”

Izzy shoved Simon down. “Ignore him. He’s being a film nerd again. It’s a quote from that movie you couldn’t bring yourself to watch because it came out just after Gideon was born.” She patted Simon’s hand as he sulked. “But maybe that answers your question? Simon thinks he can play with the guy. If you do too, then Jace is the only one we need to convince.”

“What about the sobriety pledge?” Alec met Simon’s eyes, then looked back at Izzy. “He looks like he might like to party a bit.”

“So far no rumors of any problem behaviors have emerged from behind the scenes of the competition or from anyone who has worked with him since. I’ve scoured his social media feeds and while he has been out to bars and clubs with friends, there haven’t been any drunk tweets or videos. Then there’s this.”

She poked at her phone for a moment and handed it back to Alec, a tweet thread dated late July filling the screen.

Magnus Bane @MagnificentBane

So heartbroken to hear about Max Lightwood. He may have been younger than me, but he was decades beyond his age in talent. #RIPMaxL

I’m even more heartbroken to hear he wasn’t even the one who was high. He was just in the wrong car with the wrong guy.

I hope @SebMorningStar faces the consequences for his choices. The rest of us need to take this as a lesson.

We’ve lost too many talented people in this industry, friends and loved-ones, to drugs, alcohol, and irresponsible behavior.

No one, however talented, is indestructible. Fame is a very unreliable airbag.

That was weirdly poetic, Alec though, smiling despite the fresh pain in his heart at seeing those thoughts on Max. The guy was probably a capable lyricist.

I love a night out at the club as much as the next guy, but I’ve learned from a lot of close calls who not to trust with the keys.

Sometimes the guy who shouldn’t have the keys is me. I’ve learned to make sure everyone gets home safely then, too.

It’s a fucking tragedy that Max will never get the chance to learn how to make that call.

My heart goes out to his brothers and the rest of @NephilimBand and the Lightwood family. May they find comfort and solace. #RIPMaxL

Alec blinked rapidly and passed the phone back to Izzy. “Wow. Okay. So I don’t think we’d have a hard time talking him into the sobriety pledge.”

Simon glanced at the tweets over Izzy’s shoulder. “Especially if we just make it clear that he’s free to do what he wants when he’s not in the studio or touring with the rest of us. I mean, I’m not interested in telling anyone they can’t have beers with the guys while watching a game or go out for a drink with friends. Just, you know, not when the rest of us are there.”

“You really think you can get him to agree to it?”

She took a slow drink of her virgin daiquiri. “I think so. There’s no downside to it for him. He needs a band; you already have a band, minus a drummer but we can fix that. True, he won’t be billed as a solo act, but signing on with you guys means he starts out with a bigger fan base than just his social media following since the competition. Plus, we know he likes your music.”

“Any potential downsides for us?” Alec asked.

“None that I can think of. In fact, he’s openly bisexual so we might end up increasing our LGBTQ fanbase.”

He frowned sharply. “What? How’s that going to work with the morals clause in our contract?”

“Lydia’s renegotiating from the ground up.” Izzy gave him a grin so toothy it would make sharks swim away in terror. “Whole new band means the old contract gets thrown out. She’s insisting on getting rid of the morals clause.”

Alec stared at her for an incredulous moment, then narrowed his eyes at Simon, who sank down in the booth a little. “The new band was your suggestion. Did Isabelle put you up to that?”

Simon rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah, that was totally the first thing on her mind when she was crying her eyes out over Max.”

“Right. Sorry. That was out of line. I just—” Alec rubbed his forehead. However coincidental the timing, Simon and Izzy couldn’t know why Lydia was divorcing Alec. They might suspect, but they didn’t know.

“Alec, do you think Simon and I like hiding who we are?” Izzy asked softly. “Thanks to that morals clause, we have to pretend we’re not dating, or otherwise we’d have to pretend to be monogamous. I mean, sure, since Simon’s the one bound by the old contract, the label would probably turn a blind eye if we only saw other women.” She nodded toward Maia over at the bar. “They’d assume he was cheating on me, and for some odd reason they’d decide that didn’t violate the prohibition against illicit sexual behavior. But God forbid if we wanted to date another man.”

Alec struggled not to shudder or wince. “You get that this is way beyond TMI, right?”

“But you get what I’m saying.” She gave him a censorious look, the kind that never failed to whip the band into shape whenever they started misbehaving in the studio. She’d mastered it since she’d taken over managing the band from their father, when their parents had divorced. “It wasn’t as big a deal when Max was with us; The Nephilim had a certain image that was entirely appropriate for a band whose first album dropped before their lead vocalist had to shave regularly. But we’re starting with a clean slate. New image, new outlook. I’m just saying, there’s more than one person in the band who will benefit from losing the morals clause, okay?”

“Okay.” Alec caught Simon’s eyes and nodded. “I’ll let Jace know when I pick him up from rehab next weekend. I don’t think he’ll have any objections, So if Magnus is interested, have him join us in the studio as soon as possible; we can bring in a session drummer temporarily if we have to. Let’s just all jam and see how we work together.”

On to Chapter 2

[undertaleimaginationland]

How would UT,UF,US,and SF react to their S/O being a roller derby queen but hiding it from them because they didn't want them to worry about them? Bonus points if they manage to catch a game of them being amazing, DOUBLE POINTS IF THEIR DERBY NAME IS BONE RELATED!!!! I mean if you want to...

I would love to answer this! I imagine that I wouldn’t be very good considering my horrible balance and brittle bones, but imaginary me would kick some major butt!!

Undertale

Sans-

“wait,” Sans is taken aback. “really?”

Once you admit to this lazy bones again, he leans back in his chair, bemused. “huh…” He trails off, nodding his hid coolly. In all honesty, he’s mostly shocked that you were actually able to hide such a significant detail from him for so long. “so that’s how you roll, huh babe?”

Oh, and don’t forget the puns that come with your pastime. He’s always racking his skull for new content.

When he attends his first match of yours. he absolutely nervous, buying two large containers of stress popcorn to chow down on. “what if you get hurt? oh asgore, please don’t get hurt.”

He watches you skate out and almost chokes as he reads the name on your back:

BONE TO BE WILD

For some odd reason, this comforts him just a bit and he has to keep eating in order to stop his laughter.

Once the match actually starts, its like he’s watching a completely different person. You’re plowing people down left and right, and with every person that fell before you, he would relax more and more and actually start to focus on the game. 

You’ve got this smol skele’s support and he’s definitely treating you to Grillby’s afterwards.

Paps-

“SO… IT’S LIKE ROLLER SKATING, BUT WITH A LOT MORE VIOLENCE?” Paps is pretty confused when you first admit this fun fact about yourself. Sure, he’s heard of the usual roller skating and heck, even figure skating. But roller derby?

It doesn’t ring a bell.

Once you explain the basic rules of the vigorous sport to him, jammers and all, he seems a little concerned. So that’s where all the bruises came from, huh?

“NOW S/O, I’M ONLY GOING TO SAY THIS BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.” He sucks in a sharp breath. “WHAT ARE YOU S/O?! CRAZY?!!”

You startle. That’s one of the loudest volumes you’ve ever heard him use. It takes a bit of calming down and reassurance of your skill in the sport to ease Pap into the subject. After a bit of coaxing, you even manage to convince him to go to one of your matches just so you could assure him of your safety.

“W-WELL,” Pap fiddles with his gloves, still a little embarrassed from his last outburst. “IF YOU SAY SO.”

When the day of your match arises, Pap is a nervous wreck. Like seriously, the poor tol brought a first aid kit and everything. He wants to be prepared IF and WHEN you get hurt. As much confidence he has in you, there’s an even bigger part of him that just wants to protect you.

So the instant you plow some poor competitor out of your way, his jaw literally drops. What. Just. Happened??? As you skate around the rink, he finally notices your name, ‘THE GREAT S/O’, and his mind = blown.

He profusely apologizes afterwards for ever doubting you and treats you to heapings of his famous spaghetti. Bless him.

Underfell

Red-

“aw. you wanna go roller skating with me? how cute.” Uh, I think he misheard you.

When you tell him that 1.) You said roller DERBY and 2.) You didn’t want him skate with him, rather have him watch you, he freezes up.

“what?” He chortles. “y-you’re fuckin’ joking, right?” The laughter is taking over him as your anger does to you. He really doesn’t believe you, does he?

You huff angrily as you sweep your duffel bag of gear. “I’ll be at the rink. Don’t follow me.” And with that, you’re out the door. Your offer for him to watch has officially expired.

He sniffles a bit of his cry-laugh tears away, still recovering from his laughter fit. Once he realizes you’re gone, he stiffens up. “crap.” Maybe he shouldn’t have been such a dick.

He teleports to the rink just to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed. His eyelights scan around and as he passes by the concessions, he overhears a particularly interesting conversation.

“Yo dude, hurry up!”

“I’m trying, I’m trying!”

“That Skull Slayer girl’s probably ambushed like, 5 girls while we were here! Hurry up!”

Red grins at the name. His curiosity has been peeked as he enters the crowded arena. Being the little cheater he is, he managed to shortcut his way to the front. Just as he’s about to settle himself in a seat, he has to dodge an oncoming player.

His glare instantly burns from the girl to the shover and in an instant, the prophesized Skull Slayer skrts by. Oh god, that’s one angry skater.

Oh wait, its just you.

His sockets are widened immensely and he has an awful impulse to laugh at how oddly things were playing out. A part of him also feels a little guilty for ever doubting you, but he ignores the feeling and settles with watching you do your thing.

Before you could see him, he vanishes. This is a secret he’s keeping to himself.

He’s also a little titillated, but shhh.

Edge- 

Edge places a gloved hand on his chest. “ARE YOU SERIOUS?” He asks with a gasp.

When you nod your head in affirmation, he gives you an odd stare as he does a double take. He scans you up and down. Is your body type suited for that sort of vicious activity? BY ASGORE IT WAS!! The resilient bones, the stubborn attitude, and that spunk in your eyes…

HOW DID HE NOT NOTICE THIS BEFORE?!?!?!

“S/O!! I DEMAND THAT I ESCORT YOU TO ONE OF YOUR MATCHES!!” You were going to invite him anyways, but it looks like he’s already put it upon himself to do the ‘asking’.

The big day comes quicker than anticipated, for Edge at least. He had been prepping your body with nutritious meals and vigorous exercises, but a self-conscious part of him felt like that wasn’t enough. A week wasn’t enough to mold you into the perfect roller derBEAST and that made him absolutely nervous as he watched you.

Well, at least he got you to change your stage name to ‘THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE S/O’. That gave him some sort of solace.

The thing about Edge was that he wasn’t necessarily nervous about your safety. Hey! You should’ve known about the dangers that came with stepping into the rink. What set him off edge (hehe) was the possibility of you making a fool of yourself, thus making him look foolish.

His ego suddenly overflowed as you smacked two skaters out of your way. A big childish grin slapped across his face as looked around at a few visibly disturbed fans from the opposing team. “HA! DID YOU SEE THAT?! YOUR PUNY FIGURE SKATERS NEVER POSED A THREAT AGAINST MY GREAT AND TERRIBLE S/O!”

After the match, for some odd reason, Edge seems a bit more clingy. He won’t let your spunky self escape him as he keeps referring to you as “THE RULER OF THE RINK”.

Underswap

Blueberry-

“SO LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT; YOU PUSH PEOPLE ON ROLLER SKATES WHILE SKATING IN CIRCLES FOR FUNSIES?” Blueberry is still trying to piece this all together.

You nod, giggling at his odd use of the word ‘funsies’.

“OH…THAT’S COOL, I GUESS?” Gosh, he feels so awkward. He wants to tell you something like, ‘THAT’S SUPER DANGEROUS!!’ or “HEY DON’T DO THAT!!’, but he wisely figures that something so passion filled must mean a lot to you. “C-COULD YOU INFORM ME ON YOUR NEXT GAME OR MATCH OR WHATEVER THEY’RE CALLED? I WOULD LOVE TO SEE YOU PLAY!” He manages to play off his concerns, albeit in a not so subtle way (to him at least).

The day of your next match comes and golly, he’s not ready. Like Tale! Pap, he’s got his whole diaper bag of medical supplies, but he takes it a step further and has 9-1-1 on speed dial. Never has Blueberry sweated so much sitting down, like seriously, I think he’s burning more calories here than he ever will in his entire life training with Alphys.

His fingers are crossed and he’s praying to whatever stronger force there is out there to keep you safe. Sure, he’s sparred with you before, but he takes it easy on you. For someone as “GREAT AND MAGNIFICENT AS HIMSELF” would be too much to handle at full force. But what about these random beefed up ladies?? They don’t know that they should be gentle with-

He flinches as you zoom by a flock of opponents, making them all fall with a single swipe. 

what.

WHAT.

I think you broke him?

When the match is finally over, you have to shake him back to his senses. Like really, the place’s empty already. Once he breaks out of his shock, he is showering you with praise and skelekisses.

Such a sweetheart.

Stretch-

“its always the sweet ones with the oddest hobbies, isn’t it?” Stretch wonders aloud as he reclines in his seat.

He strokes his chin, immediately getting himself lost in thought. “now that i think about it, that actually makes a lot of sense.”

You tilt your head. What kind of reaction was this?? “What do you mean?”

“what?” He seems quite amused at your question. “you didn’t think i was oblivious to all those bruises, didya? plus, the skates in your room were a dead giveaway.”

Welp, you kinda suck at hiding things.

You figured you might as well invite him to one of the darn matches to make up for your obliviousness.

“sure i’ll go, honeybun. i’d skate to see you go alone.”

Dumb puns aside, he does attend your match. For some odd reason, he’s the least concerned of the skeles. He sits up in the stands with a bundle of lollipops and is pretty content with the environment, save for the loud set of opposing team supporters beside him.

“Oh yeah! That other team is fucked!” One man yells.

The man besides him notices Stretch and grins, making full eye contact with him.”All they have going for them is that Femur Fever bitch! That’s it! We’ll win for sure!”

Stretch’s smile tightens. That was the same name he had laughed at the whole car ride up here. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he continues watching you do your thing.

‘please do something cool.’

‘please prove these asshats wrong.’

As if the stars above had aligned in his favor, you overlap the other team with ease and the opposing fans go silent.

Now its Stretch’s turn to smile like an idiot. He has that face that only the smuggest of bastards wear as he stares at the men who had pulled some passive aggressive BS on him

‘yeah. how do them apples taste, asshole?’

Like UT! Sans, he’s very supportive of your interests and treats you to a bite at Muffet’s afterwards.

Swapfell

Blackberry-

You had him at derby. That would imply that its a competition.

“REALLY? YOU HURT PEOPLE FOR FUN, TOO?!”

Uh okay, you’re going to pretend you didn’t hear that.

“BUT OF COURSE YOU DO! YOU ARE THE DATEMATE OF THE TREACHEROUS  SANS AFTERALL!” Oh stars, he’s rambling again.

“SO TELL ME, S/O. WHAT DO YOU DO IN THIS SO CALLED ‘ROLLER DERBY’??” He inquired with a quotation of his hands.

Once you explain to him the jist of the sport, he’s beaming at you. Actually, that’s probably one of the happiest faces you’ve seen him make.

“VIOLENCE AND HIGH SPEEDS YOU SAY?” No, that’s not what you said. “I DEMAND THAT YOU SHOW ME THIS INSTANT!”

You let out a confused ‘huh?’. “Really? Like right now right now?”

Blackberry is a little disgruntled at your hesitance. “YES! LIKE RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW!”

Before you had a chance to respond, he’s dragging you out to the car with your gear in hand. “WE MUST LEAVE NOW OR YOU’LL BE LATE FOR THE MATCH!”

“Wait, what match?”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT MATCH?? I MEAN THE ONE I SIGNED YOU UP FOR RIGHT NOW!” Oh lord, he has his calendar pulled out and everything.

And so, you had to mentally prepare yourself for the derby match he had instantaneously  signed you up for. Fortunately for you, it was an amateur match he had thrown you in. Afterall, what organization would’ve accepted you so quickly?

“YOU HAVE YOUR KNEEPADS?”

“Yep.”

“ROLLER BLADES?”

“Check.”

“HELMET?”

You knock on your covered head. “Definitely.”

“ALRIGHT THEN.” He’s about to turn you loose when you suddenly see him go all fidgety. He seems to be contemplating something.

“Sans? You oka-” He stops your concerns with a kiss to your cheek. His skull burns a bright purple and he quickly looks away. “D-DON’T HURT YOURSELF TOO MUCH, S/O. SOMEBODY REALLY CARES ABOUT YOU.”

His words stick to you as you speed by a group of competitors. What? They don’t call you Askeleration for nothing.

Meanwhile, Blackberry is yelling in the stands and is clinging for dear life onto the seat in front of him. “GO S/O! FIGHT THEM WITH YOUR UNDYING FURY AND PASSION! SHOW THEM WHAT IT TRULY MEANS TO BE THE ALPHA SKATER!!”

Once you’re done absolutely obliterating the others, Blackberry has this grin on his face as he marches you over to the car. He won’t stop recalling the match play-by-play.

Stop him now or surrender your sleep.

Rus-

“roller derby, m’lady? really?!” Rus stares at you with amazement.

The sudden level of praise made you blush, but you stutter out a ‘yes’ anyways.

“oh boy,” His wonder quickly washes off his face as he takes your forearm. “you’re not hurt, are you love?”

You shrug. “It’s a part of the sport, but I really am okay.”

His smile is tight as he drags his phalanges across a few old bruises. “oh no,” It sounds like he’s talking to himself. “well, at least these look older.”

You start to feel a little guilty for making him worry. “Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” Bringing your arm up to your face, you place a gentle peck on his knuckles.

He seems flattered by this gesture. “s’fine, love,” His other hand makes his way to your face. “jus’ a little concerned about you, s’all.” As he cups the side of your head, you lean into him.

“Does this mean you’re gonna watch my next match?” You look up at him with innocent eyes, a smile creeping on your lips.

“next match?” He deflates. “oh love. i don’t think i could ever handle watching all those people attempt to hurt my mistress.”

“Its just a game, Rus,” You huff. “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Rus eyes you up and down. He’s never been so unsure of something so…spontaneous. One one hand, you’ll be able to do what you love, but risk the chance of getting hurt. On the other hand, he declines and you’re mad at him for 5ever.

“i…” Rus scrapes his skull for an answer. “i-i guess i’m watching you then, huh?” Oh stars, he’s already regretting his answer.

But that excited expression you made silence his protests.

On the day of your match, your coach’s protest fall on deaf ears as Rus seats himself on the team bench. After a while, your coach stops her nagging as she starts to use his 6′8 presence as an intimidation tactic. He was silently refusing her demands, so why not use this to the team’s advantage?

Rus has this unreadable grin every time you sweep by him and he’s absolutely humored by your stage name: Skullface.

Its so suave and skeleton related. Its so you.

And he’s only further elated as you dodge and parry every charging opponent, yelling out commands to your teammates at 100mph.

Afterwards, he takes you out to a restaurant with bountiful amounts of food. I mean, how else is he gonna keep his little jammer healthy?

The tol only falls further for you.

GOSH! I’M SOOOOO SORRY FOR THE DELAY IN STUFFS! I SHALL GET ON TRACK ONCE MORE!

[undertalertrashfanfics-blog]

There Has to be a Better Way to Confess

“Who did this?” The shuddering quiet of Papyrus’ voice would have chilled anyone else to their core, but not Sans. “Answer me!” Papyrus shook his elder brother by the shoulder, his grip crushing, only to immediately release him as Sans winced, the jarring movement no doubt causing pain. “Shit, sorry bro… I just…” the rage that had been boiling through his marrow simmered down slightly, hurting his brother wouldn’t accomplish anything. But he’s already hurt! Perhaps, on his more honest days, he would admit, though only to himself and the silence of his mind, that his fierce protectiveness for Sans stems not only from familial instincts but also something altogether different. But that was not the problem at hand. Oh no, the problem -at hand and arm and rip and skull and every other precious part of him- was that Sans was hurt. Badly. And what’s worce, Papyrus hadn’t been there to protect him. “Bro, Sans, I’m so sorry… I let this happen, I’m… shit… I’m so sorry, it’s all my fualt, I shoulda been there… so please just” he’s tone, which had been near pleading, hardened with each following word “tell me who did this so I can make it RIGHT.” Sans refused to meet his brother’s gaze “It wasn’t your fault Papy, you were in heat…” THAT JUST MAKES IT WORCE!!! Papyrus wanted to scream that him begin locked up in his room jacking off till he blacked out while Sans -precious, kind, perfect Sans- was beaten and bruised was utterly unforgivable. “Paps, you were… you had it bad, there’s nothing you co-” To his credit Papyrus really had been listening right up until- ‘oh stars are those-? Are those bite marks?!!!’ -then his mind was far to occupied trying to deduce the perpetrator on his own. He focused first on eliminating possibilities: the spacing of the bites were too close together to be any of the local dogs, and the holes -dear fucking stars, there were actual holes- were far too deep and pointed to be any of the rabbit guard. Muffit came to mind but he emeditly cast the thought aside, she wouldn’t… besides she has fangs. Alphys? Rage tore through him as he considered her, he had trusted her! Wait… no no, she had dull teeth… Sans had stopped speaking upon realising that his audience had gone deaf to him. “Besides, I liked it.” Perhaps it was childish, but it certainly got the younger’s attention. Quite suddenly his mind ground to a hult and a deep consuming chill settled in his bones as Papyrus’ attention snapped with painful swiftness to his brother’s slightly trembling form. ‘He liked it
'He liked it
'He liked it helikedithelikedithelikedit
'Dear merciful stars nonono 
'please fallen souls no’ He hadn’t even considered… It hadn’t occurred to him that… that… He had thought it was just a beating… just… just simple violence, but…. Bite marks on his scapula, collar bone and… oh… on his fucking throat. Large hand shaped bone-bruises on his arms, around his wrists and… and chin… like- Papyrus’ soul tightened -like someone had grabbed his skull there, probably to… to force his head to turn… Sans shifted his weight slightly, he was starting to regret what he had said especially with the way his brother stared at him, face unreadable eyelights flickering in and out. Papyrus noticed the movement, noticed the way the other seemed to favor one leg… hadn’t he been limping when he came down stairs? A quick glance down tells him that it’s not the small skeleton’s legs that are hurt -he would be able to see since Sans was wearing nothing but boxers- which meant… it meant that it was his pelvis that was hurting. All at once his rage came crashing back tenfold, he could even distantly feel the burn that accompanied his eye flairing with unspent power. Someone, some worthless piece of scum had ra- 'Besides, I liked it’ -no, no he had enjoyed it, he had consented… there are claw marks across his sternum… Sans is a grown monster -Papyrus’ elder even… he shifted again this time failing to hide a wince. 'It doesn’t fucking matter’ “Who. Did. This.” “Papyrus, just drop it, okay?” It was so rare that he used his full name and he sounded so… defeated. “Sans please,” he reached out slowly “ya know I-” Papyrus cut himself of as he cupped his brother’s face. He had ment it as a simple gesture of comfort, he had ment to try and catch Sans’ gaze, but all that fell away as he saw how perfectly his hand matched the darkened bone on his brother’s face. Papyrus pulled away as if burned his face a chaotic blend of horror and desperation, “Nonono, Sans please… please tell me I didn’t…” he took a step back, then another, and another untill his back hit a wall. Sans just offered him a weak smile. No, oh Gods no “You were in heat Paps-” nononono “-and it was pretty bad-” no please no “-you, I checked on you once you passed out. I wanted to leave you some water and something to eat if you could.” Papyrus pushed against the wall, wishing he could put more space between them. Wish he could get away. “I guess I woke you? And then you were over me.” “S-sans I,” Sans spoke on, either not hearing him or ignoring him. “I- you were such a mess and I could see all the pain you were in… then you… you started begging Paps.” Tears were forming in his brother’s eyes and Papyrus was certain that he had never hated anything as much as he hated himself at that moment, “You were begging me to… to make you feel better… to-to” Sans choked on a sob “I couldn’t say no Paps… you were in so much pain an-and you were begging.” The brothers couldn’t meet each other’s eyes: Papyrus too horrified with himself, Sans too consumed by shame and disgust. “S-so I said I’d help you… I’m so sorry brother, please I-I didn’t,” Papyrus’ head snapped up 'sorry?’ Why was he sorry? It had been Papyrus who had… violated him and yet here he stood apologizing, “I should have stopped you… I should have said no… I was going to.” He was heaving with sobs by now and while Papyrus longed to comfort him, he didn’t dare move closer. “When I-I… realized w-what I’d s-said… I… I was going to stop you brother, I swear it.” Sans finally looked up and there was so much greif in his eyes that that alone nearly dusted Papyrus, “But… y-you star-rted saying all t-these things and I co-ooould-n’t.” The last word was nearly lost to a wailing sob “Sans,” stars what had he said? He couldn’t remember anything past the second day of his heat, had he… fuck had he threatened Sans? “Bro, please,” he had to know “what’d I say?” Sans sniffled staring intently at the hardwood floor “You… you said that you loved me… that you needed me… you said all these things about how… how badly you wanted me, to take me for yourself… that’s why you bit me, t-to 'claim’ me… m-make me yours.” He was so close to sobbing again, “I-I know it was j-just the heat talking but… I’m so sorry Papy, I’m such a bad big brother…” “Sans?” “I-I’ve wanted to hear that f-for so long now Paps…” Papyrus suddenly found that he couldn’t breath, and while it wasn’t really necessary for skeletons he was sure that this was what suffocation felt like. “I just… I love you s-so much Papy, and… I… I thought that maybe if you… if you marked me” his fingers traced the teeth along his collar bone “then… I… then even when your heat was over I could be yours…” He turned away very suddenly, his hands clenched at his side’s “I’m sorry Papyrus… I was just… I…” he gathered what had returned of his magic intent on porting away “I’m sorry.” “It wasn’t!” Papyrus reached out grabbing Sans by the shoulder before he could vanish through a shortcut, “It wasn’t just my heat.” He wasn’t sure what more to say but he pushed on anyway “I… I’m sorry I hurt ya Sans, and… and by the stars I’m sorry ya found out like that but… but I really do love ya… not the way I’m suppose to either.” Sans shook almost violently as he murmured something in reply, it was just too quiet for Papyrus to hear “What was that bro?” The elder turned and buried his face in his brother’s hoody, “I said… don’t-don’t mock me…” Papyrus rubbed small, soothing circles into the back of his brother’s skull “I really love ya, Sans and I’m so fucking sorry.” Sans drew in an uneven breath “Then… then you don’t have to apologize… I-I really did enjoy it…” Papyrus gaped down at him for a long moment before a wicked grin split his face and a low, playful growl rumbled from deep in his chest. The sound made Sans shudder pleasantly, “I think I may have missed a spot,” he teased, gently tracing a small area of unmarked bone on he’s brother’s shoulder before lowering himself to whisper against the side of his skull “Can’t have that can we?” “N-no,” Sans was more than happy to play along, barely containing a grin of his own “that just won’t do.” excitement was already trickling through his wonderfully sore bones. “But first,” his brother’s low growl like voice reverberated through him making him tremble “we,” he traced the marks left by his own teeth with his hot, wet tongue causing his small brother to grasp tightly at the fabric of his hoody “need,” Papyrus’ hand drifted down to fondle the sensitive tip of his tail bone and Sans arched into the contact mewling quietly “to get you healed” he stood up, turned around and headed to the kitchen. Sans stood rooted on the spot staring after him, dumbstruck, before he stomped his foot in frustration “Ugh, you are the absolute worst!” “Come on bro, I’m just-” “Don’t you dare!” “Ribbing ya.” “I revoke my confession!!!”

[askmicrowaveayem]

Boink! Life is Better With You Pt. 20

[Previous]

[Archive]

It was so strange, being back home. He had thought he would be able to fall right back into his routine. Thought everything would fall back into place. But when they had arrived he had realized that, despite it having been months, and nothing had changed…

… he had. He had changed a lot.

He had thought that he could go back to work. Spend a couple days with his boys. Talk to his friends and neighbours. Get himself back into the rhythm of his life.

But it was nothing like that.

Now it was less about setting out tasks and more just… getting through the next day. Getting through the next hour. His life had been laid out in front of him before all of this had happened and now it felt like every step was uncertain. Everything around him was black and full of the unknown.

It was terrifying.

Gaster squeezed his friend’s hand tighter.

At least he wasn’t alone.

Papyrus, meanwhile, looked down at the child sitting beside him and smiled, “YES.” He said, sounding very sure of himself. “EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE. SANS AND I ARE GOING TO MOVE HERE PERMANENTLY. WE’RE GOING TO HELP OUT. WE JUST NEED TO BE THERE FOR THEM WHILE THEY RECOVER. HELP WHERE WE CAN.”

Sans came down from the stairs and flopped onto the floor beside where his other self was lying.

--

Doc looked over at him slowly when the squeeze grew tighter.

“...you okay?”

He knew he wasn’t. Knew neither of them were okay, but especially Gaster, right now.

He could put himself on hold. He could find a pattern and stay in it, keeping himself even and steady for as long as he had to. It was how he survived, how he had managed everything for so long--find a holding pattern.

Not getting better.

Not getting worse, if he could help it.

But just… holding himself as stable as possible until it felt safe enough to change. To actually examine what was happening and try to pick up his pieces again.

Gaster didn’t have that right now.

Papyrus nodded, reaching up to hug his older self.

“...OKAY, GOOD.” he said. “...I DON’T WANT YOU TO LEAVE.”

Sans looked up as the older one set beside him.

Wordlessly sat up. Shifting into his bipedal form.

An invitation. Even if he didn’t say anything.

--

After a moment Gaster nodded and opened his eyes, still squeezing his friend’s hand but letting it lighten a little.

“Y-Yeah. J-Just… realizing a-a lot of things…” He looked over at his friend. “I’ve n-never been so un-unsure in my own h-house.” His fingers pulled at the sweater a little more. “... R-really hate this s-s-stutter. I thought it w-would go away q-quickly…”

He hated listening to himself talk now.

Sans looked at his other self, then glanced back at Papyrus who met his eyes.

Nothing needed to be said.

“YES, SO WE SHOULD GO TIDY UP A LITTLE. WE’LL NEED TO MOVE SOME THINGS INTO OUR ROOM. GET AN EXTRA BED. DO YOU WANT TO COME HELP?” Papyrus said, looking down at the child hugged in his arms.

--

Doc gave him a wavering smile.

“Hey,” he said, “it’s only been a few hours.”

He gave the hand a squeeze as it loosened.

“...I’m scared too.”

Papyrus just nodded, for once not saying anything as he buried his face into the other.

--

Gaster couldn’t help but laugh a little.

Only a few hours.

“It’s f-felt so longer th-than that…”

He squeezed it back again and what tiny smile he had managed faded.

… Yeah. They were scared.

He tried to convince himself that was okay.

Papyrus carried his smaller self upstairs to help clean their room, leaving their brother’s alone. Sans turned to the other once they were gone.

“... what’s it like there?”

--

“...let’s try to sleep,” Doc said finally. Didn’t really move, even though he said it.

Just kept holding his friend’s hand. Breathing slowly.

Sans glanced back at him. Taking a moment to study him from the new angle of his bipedal form. Look him in the face.

“...didn’t see much of it. dad kept us hidden in a little room that’d been bricked up and snuck us food. if we ever went out and people realized we were there, they’d’ve made us soldiers.”

Even though his quadruped form was large, his other form was still small. Obviously a child. Maybe ten years old. Maybe eleven.

He’d been smaller when the older kids came and found them in their father’s house, at the end of their rope, too scared to venture outside the house but starting to run very low on food. Terrified of what might’ve become of their dad.

He’d been even younger when he left the other world accidentally.

(He thought about it a lot. What might’ve happened to him and Papyrus if Doc had crossed over alone.

If they’d even have been able to escape the wall that was meant to protect them.)

--

Gaster nodded and didn’t move at first either, just sitting and breathing a little shaky while holding his friend’s hand. Eventually though he pulled his legs up onto the edge of the bed and let his hand leave Doc’s to scoot back and pull down the covers.

He slipped under them.

Sans nodded, “that’s good. that you don’t know much.”

It sounded like a too terrible world for a kid to ever grow up in. Papyrus seemed to have bounced back okay, but… he knew Sans still felt unsafe sometimes.

He reached over, pulling the kid over to him and holding him around the shoulders, having seen just how much he had shut down upon thinking their dad was dead. He had too, but… he was older. He kept moving for their sake rather than his own.

“our dads are alive. we got paps. we’ll be livin’ with ya from now on.”

Neither of them would be alone again.

--

When Gaster moved, he was able to follow him. Crawl under the sheets and curl up in a ball, the same way he did in his bed in the other world.

They’d be okay.

Even if he dreamed the worst possible things, they’d be okay.

Sans blinked, a little surprised at the hug, but leaned into it anyway. Not hugging back. He wasn’t quite used to being expected to, his forepaws not always bending the right way to accomplish it.

But he leaned into the hug. Glad he had the older one here. Glad that it wasn’t all up to him.

Still…

“...don’t blame dad,” he said after a moment. “...for whatever happened there. the king never left him alone. so he did a lot of stuff that” (that Sans knew was bad here, but back in that world, it had been normal to nuzzle his father and breathe in a stranger’s dust) “wasn’t good. but he wouldn’t let ‘em hurt your dad on purpose.”

--

Gaster did the same, shifting a bit in discomfort at first, always keeping at least one part of his body touching Doc’s. The burns had given him the habit of tossing in turning, not even with the added help of stress constantly making him twitch or spasm.

He could still feel them. They had healed, but the feel of those parts of bone against fabric were different forever. Sensitive, uneven. He could still feel an odd scraping in his elbow too, where some of the bone had started to turn to dust and now it didn’t sit quite right.

The scars on his face from the war had been much the same at first. He wondered if he would start to ignore these just as he did with those.

“i’d never blame your dad.” Sans said, “i know he did all he could to help ‘em get back home.”

--

Despite everything. Despite the worry and stress of the last few weeks, despite the adrenaline of their successful return, Doc fell asleep just as fast as he always had. Like flicking a switch in his head.

His breathing evened and swallowed, and he was gone. Unbothered by Gaster’s tossing and turning.

Sans looked up at the other, a little something like confusion on his face for a minute, because everyone always blamed his dad--

Then, he just leaned against the older Sans, and didn’t say anything else.

Didn’t have anything else to say, unless he was asked.

--

Gaster would never quite fall asleep as quickly and smoothly as Doc, but he had gotten the ability to sleep despite stress and discomfort.

Exhaustion helped.

He always felt exhausted.

Gaster fell asleep eventually, curled up and with his head touching Doc’s shoulder blade just enough to know he was there.

Sans wouldn’t ask anything else. He would just sit there, arm around his younger self, relaxing.

--

Doc dreamed.

The door opening. The King on the other side.

They hadn’t escaped. He’d just been knocked unconscious by his legs being cut off.

He woke sharply after a few hours of rest, and looked around the room. Not sure if it was real. Breathing ragged.

Sans would sit there with his older self as long as he could, before he eventually fell asleep leaning against him, comfortable with him to decide he was a nice place to nap.

--

Gaster was woken by the sudden jostle by his head.

He had been too tired to dream.

But he wasn’t too tired to remember.

His eyes flew open and without thinking he scrambled to grab Doc’s shirt, clutching it in his phalanges and quickly scooting closer as though something was right behind him, ready to snatch him up.

--

Doc flinched away from the touch before realizing who it was. Quickly clinging back.

Still breathing loudly. Frantic. Eyes darting back and forth.

“...fuck…” he said. Whispered. “....fuck…. I….”

He leaned his head against Gaster’s shoulder.

--

He quickly looked behind him, arms shaking before he turned back to look at Doc, eyes nothing but pinpricks resting in their sockets.

It was only then he realized he had sucked in a breath and had been holding it.

Gaster exhaled shakily and closed his eyes, slowly moving to wrap around his friend and hug him tight.

--

Doc could usually handle anything thrown at him.

Unexpected dimensional travel. War campaigns. Curses. Hate. Children, and the subsequent realization that he would rather die than not commit treason for them. Doppelgangers. Regicide.

But now, here he was. Finally back home, with his kids, in no danger, and--

And apparently, he couldn’t handle that.

He clung tight to his friend, shaking.

“‘Sorry…” mumbling. “..scared you, sorry, fuck...”

Maybe he should’ve slept on his own.

--

Gaster only hugged him tighter, his arms shaking as they squeezed his friend. The bags under his eyes hadn’t gone away, but at least the lights of his eyes had gotten a little bigger. Still frightened, but… he knew where he was now.

“It’s o-okay… shhhh…” He mumbled, rubbing Doc’s back like he would do to his kids after they had nightmares.

This he could do. He knew how to handle nightmares even if he was a nervous wreck himself.

--

He kept shaking. Kept shivering, holding onto his friend. Forcing his eyes shut and open again, dragging himself back from wherever it had left him, even if he wasn’t ready. Even if it just made him want to be sick.

He fumbled a little, searching for Gaster’s hand and finally grasping it, griving a squeeze, and slowly pulling away.

Crawling off the bed, towards the open door, still with his friend’s hand.

Get out of this room. Go back downstairs. If the rest of the house looks real, it’s real.

--

Gaster took his friend’s hand as soon as it was offered, locking his fingers around it and squeezing back. He watched him pull away, confused for a moment, but moved off the bed with him all the same.

It took him a little longer to be able to stand, but he did.

The closer they got to the door the closer he pressed himself against his friend, his other hand clinging to his shoulder as Doc opened it, shaking and fearful that what they would see on the other side wouldn’t be there home.

--

The door hadn’t closed all the way, thanks to the shoe Gaster had shoved in it before they slept.

All the same, Doc looked carefully around the room they were in as he opened the door. Looked carefully into the hallway before taking a cautious, unhappy step forward.

The hall remained the same.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

--

Gaster did too.

He sighed and stepped into the hall with his friend, then made sure to push the bedroom door very wide open and nudge it that way before they left, his other hand still firmly gripping Doc’s as he did so.

Never in his life did he want to go through a closed door ever again.

--

He shuffled downstairs with his friend, tension tightening in his ribs when he saw the kitchen door had been securely closed sometime after they went to bed. He squeezed his friend’s hand all the harder, unsure if he could stand to open a fully closed door.

He just wanted to get a drink. Just wanted something hot to reassure him he was still here, to give some comfort in the night.

He considered sitting down out in the livingroom and not moving until morning.

--

Gaster looked at his friend, then at the closed door.

“... W-we should talk to th-the kids about th-this when they w-wake up.” He said, voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t want to have to be so frightened of something as simple as a closed door. He swallowed and gripped his friend’s hand tightly as he approached the kitchen door.

Gripped the handle, but didn’t look inside as he slowly opened it. Gaster kept his eyes back behind them, where they were, just to know that things weren’t changing as he opened it.

--

Doc nodded, agreeing and keeping a tight grip on his friend’s hand.

Even as Gaster looked back, Doc was staring at the door. Waiting for it to open and reveal the cold stone walls. The familiar, scraped hallways. Would the King still be alive if they went back? Would it all have been undone?

He stared as the door opened.

It revealed the kitchen. Same as earlier that evening.

He slumped again, relieved, and quickly shoved a doorstopper against it to hold the door open.

--

Seeing his friend’s relief was enough. Gaster turned, looking for himself to see his own kitchen and let out a sigh. He flicked on the light and took a seat in his usual spot, rubbing at his eye sockets with trembling hands.

--

Doc finally released the other’s hand, going immediately to the stove and beginning to prepare some hot chocolate, hands steady while the rest of him still shook.

He didn’t say anything still. But he didn’t think he was about to go to bed anytime tonight.

He set a mug down in front of his friend when the drinks were ready, then settled in across from him, holding his own mug tight and for the moment just enjoying the warmth in his hands.

--

Gaster stayed sitting, listening to the bustle of his friend behind him. He didn’t have steady hands at all. In fact, that’s what shook the most. His eyes opened only after the mug had been set down in front of him, a tired smile offered to Doc as he sat across from him.

He took the mug and did the same, feeling the warmth in his hands and resting his head on the table beside it, watching the steam rise from the top.

--

Doc sipped his mug, curling his arms close to his chest and trying to relax.

He looked over at the clock after what felt like a long time, his mug half drained and slowly cooling by then. Trying to see how long it would be before their children woke. How long until the--the sun didn’t rise here…

He looked at the clock anyway. Hoping the night was almost through.

--

It wasn’t.

They had gone to sleep near the afternoon and had only just woke after their own children had gone to bed.

Gaster didn’t bother to look at the clock with him. He only sipped a little of his cocoa, but had realized he was pretty hungry. So after he had regained some of his control back he stood up quietly and looked into the fridge.

Plates made and wrapped for them from the night they had slept through.

He smiled a little and held them out for Doc to see, to offer to heat them up for them.

--

Doc smiled a little back, nodding a bit.

Food. Not what he was used to anymore, but… more oddities. More things different. To prove it was all real.

He waited for the food to be heated. Made a little more to drink, just to keep his hands busy.

He hesitated a moment, then glanced towards the living room. Back to Gaster.

“I’ll… be right back,” he said. Then shuffled towards the door.

Even though it was propped wide open, his breathing shallowed as he crossed the threshhold out. Again, when he returned to the kitchen a few minutes later with a notebook and several colored pens.

--

“Oh… okay.” Gaster said, blinking and nodding as Doc left.

He would be lying if it didn’t make him nervous to be alone, but he managed. He just kept himself moving and focused on the task, putting both of their dishes into the oven to heat them up.

The sigh escaping his nasal cavity was audible when he saw his friend return, relieved.

--

He moved back over to his friend quickly, still cradling the notebook and pens close to his chest.

He stood there awkwardly for a few moments, realizing he didn’t have to be so close, and, really, that there was no reason to be except for comforting proximity, but--

It still took him a little bit to shuffle back to the table. Set the pens and notebook down. Open the notebook up to a blank page and begin to write quickly.

--

Gaster understood. Didn’t mind the proximity even if it might have been a little awkward at one point. Now he didn’t care.

He didn’t care he wanted to hold his friend’s hand or hug him or sleep in the same bed. They had been the only thing each other had in those horrible months in Doc’s world and now they were the only one who understood what the other was going through.

So it was okay.

As his friend sat down to write, he couldn’t help but look over and watch.

--

He was writing in black ink about the machine.

About how to build the machine.

What parts they’d used. What size. What material. A diagram in blue. Annotations in red.

Instructions.

--

… Ah.

Yes. That was a good idea.

Gaster found himself standing and watching as he waited for the food to warm, only moving away once it was finished. He set Doc’s plate in front of him but didn’t disturb him.

--

Doc finished the first page of notes and tore them out carefully, pushing them over towards his friend.

“...do those look right so far?”

--

Gaster reached for them as he sat down and took time to read them over very, very carefully.

“Y-yeah.” He smiled and handed them back. “Looks good.”

--

Doc nodded, letting a small flicker of a smile onto his face and taking them again, doing his own second inspection. Writing on another page anything that hadn’t been mentioned.

Starting a third page, describing the machine and it’s creation all over again. Trying to make it more concise. More manageable. Mention why they chose some materials, what characteristics were looked for.

He wrote front and back. Keeping his handwriting as neat as possible.

Handed the second completed one to Gaster to inspect. Started in on a third. A fourth, after that.

As many copies of how to create the machine as he could write out.

Able to be folded up small and carried everywhere.

--

Gaster ate as he watched, taking each paper over when it was handed to him and giving a very thorough inspection of it before he would nod or tell Doc he had missed something, but otherwise kept the task completely to his friend.

His hands were shivering too bad to write properly. He could manage to eat though, just had to bring his mouth a little closer to his fork sometimes when things weren’t quite as steady as he wanted them to be.

--

Doc failed to eat for quite some time, engrossed in his task, but he appreciated the smell of the food. Relaxed a little more when one of the papers was safely folded in his pocket. Most were left on the table, ready to be taken by anyone who wandered in.

He made a stack of instructions, each as identical as he could make them, each functional and easily folded.

Only then did he relax enough to eat. Small, slow bites, staring at the kitchen wall.

--

Gaster took a copy for himself, folding it up nice and neat, very delicate with how he did so before putting it in his pocket.

He wished it brought him comfort, but it didn’t. It was good to have, but… it didn’t quell the fear that it might happen again. That he might actually have to use them again. After finishing his meal he sighed, content for the time being.

“... Are we g-giving these to the kids?”

--

Doc nodded and finished another careful bite of his food.

“...yeah. I don’t.. Want them stranded somewhere without any idea how to escape. They won’t know how to build one without instruction.”

They might not survive long enough to learn.

--

Gaster’s eyes widened.

He… he hadn’t even thought of it happening to the kids.

There was no hiding the terror on his face.

--

Doc reached over and held his hand again, face serious.

Nothing like the terrified skeleton who’d woken that night, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“We’ve got the advantage,” he said, eyes sharp, “We learn about this now, we can learn to shut it down, or at least take precautions against it.”

--

Gaster didn’t hold Doc’s hand back even though he appreciated it all the same, his own fingers beginning to shake more as the fear really sinking in. His jaw went rigid and he nodded, keeping himself from tearing up.

“Y-yeah…”

He looked down at their hands.

“... Wh-where do we even st-start?”

--

“The machine worked,” Doc said, voice still steady. “We look at the theory we used to create it, and work on applying it elsewhere. Try to search for records of anything similar happening. Myth, legends, old children’s books, anywhere. As the current royal scientist for assistance if we have to. We’ll start there, as soon as we get our basic safety out of the way and make sure the kids all have a copy of how to build the machine on them at all times. I’ll buy lockets they can put the paper in if I have to. No one is even going to sleep without them.”

He would keep his new family safe.

He would never subject his Sans and Papyrus to their homeworld ever again.

--

Gaster nodded to everything Doc was saying. He agreed with all of it, but felt otherwise useless. As much as he wanted to help he… wasn’t sure if he could. He was having a hard enough time even functioning again. He didn’t have the same ability to suppress it like Doc did. He couldn’t adjust as well as he could, couldn’t manage his nerves.

Until now he hadn’t even had nerves.

It tore him up inside knowing that he couldn’t even manage to help keep his own kids safe, that he hadn’t thought of that at all, that he wasn’t thinking ahead. He had always thought ahead.

But not really anymore. He didn’t plan or think of the future because everything was so uncertain and terrifying. All he could manage was to keep him rooted in the now. To get through each little moment without falling to pieces.

--

Nothing had ever been certain in his life since the war. He hadn’t had years of routine set by a school bell. He hadn’t had peace and calm or time to settle his nerves. He’d had his work, and his work was all that stayed constant, whether it was studying how to chop meat or how to sew it up. How to get rid of a limb or how to put on a new one.

This was far out of his usual expertise, though. This sort of science. And he’d need his friend for help.

“I can look for stories while you inspect the machine,” he said, still holding his friend’s hand tight. “You know more how that then I do. But we’ll get this working, okay? We’re going to make sure we stay here. That nothing can rip us out.”

Even battlefield healers had to learn how to think on their feet.

--

Gaster nodded again and finally squeezed his friend’s hand back, eyes casting downward to stare into the now empty cup of cocoa in front of him.

“Y-yeah…”

It was ridiculous to think that he was going to have a hard time even doing that simple task, but he knew it would be hard somehow.

Everything was hard right now.

--

Doc kept his grip steady, tried to make his voice reassuring.

“We’re going to be alright, now,” he said. Didn’t say it wouldn’t be hard. But they’d be alright. “We’ve got the advantage.”

--

He looked at his friend, hand shaking in Doc’s grip.

It was hard to believe in the moment that they were going to be alright. He didn’t feel alright. Nothing did.

“Okay....” He said with a sigh, his voice shaking.

--

Doc’s expression softened again. He let out a quiet sigh.

“...for now, though… maybe we can see if we can sleep better on the couch.”

--

Ah… back in the now. That was… better. He could manage that, definitely.

Gaster nodded. He was still pretty tired.

“W-worth a shot.”

He stood, gathering up their dishes as well as he could with shaking hands, but not daring to try and carry them to the sink yet. His fingers still felt like wet noodles.

--

Doc smiled a little more and nodded, moving with his friend and helping carry the dishes that were a little harder to grip. Setting them carefully in the sink on top of Doc’s.

Took his hand. And walked him back out to the other room, heading for the couch.

They didn’t need blankets, probably.

--

Gaster left the door open and the kitchen light on, just something to light up a tiny portion of the living room.

The blankets were still there from the night before, but now neatly folded and set aside.

He grabbed them and sat down with a heavy sigh.

--

Doc sat beside him, a little quieter. Steps a little lighter. He curled with both his legs up to his chest, not too far from his friend but not crowding him.

He didn’t know how tired he was, but he hoped he’d be able to sleep long enough for morning to at least be a little closer than it was now.

--

Gaster pulled his blanket around himself and tried to get comfortable.

Not on his side. Not on his back.

He eventually settled for sitting upright and letting his body slump forward. It was how he had slept for a long time even after being reunited with Doc. The burns had taken awhile to heal and were still a little uncomfortable despite his expert care from the neglect they had experienced the weeks leading up to being properly treated.

It was like a phantom pain. The same as he sometimes had in his arm. Like it wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

Gaster clutched the arm that had been severed, his body trembling even as he started to relax.

--

It took a long time for Doc to relax and close his eyes, because what if eyes acted like doors? What if when he opened them again, he’d just wake up… elsewhere?

But there was no evidence for that yet. So there was not yet reason to fear it. So he tried not to.

He curled on the couch next to his friend, trying to calm his still-racing thoughts, and eventually falling back into a light, frantic sleep.

--

Gaster twitched a lot in his sleep this time. If he was having nightmares they would make little sense, the only real thing was an incredibly mounting sense of dread. Memories resurfacing.

The King looming over him. Cutting off his arm. Burning him.

--

Doc slept through it. His bad dreams shallow and fleeting enough that he would know they existed come morning, but not be able to say definitively what they were, except that they involved dust, but for all he knew, he was just remembering himself.

It was Sans who first discovered their fathers were missing from the upstairs bedroom, waking early in the morning and going to check on them as soon as he remembered.

Soon he was scratching on the outside of their elder selves’ bedrooms, whining in alarm.

--

Papyrus woke easily, opening the door and looking down at the quadruped version of his brother. He rubbed at his eye sockets and blinked a few times before looking worried.

“SANS?” He said as quietly as he could manage, “WHAT’S WRONG?”

--

He shifted quickly onto his two feet and said, “Dad’s not in his room.”

--

Papyrus’ eye sockets widened.

“WAKE UP SANS. I’M GOING TO CHECK AROUND.” Papyrus walked passed the other to head down the hall and look into their parent’s bedroom, the covers shifted but no one inside. Then he turned, quickly making his way back down the hall and the stairs. His pace slowed upon seeing their fathers slumped on the couch and he sighed.

--

Doc stirred a little at the sound, shuddering awake. Blinking at Papyrus and flinching back at first, unusued to seeing bones.

Sans stayed upstairs with his elder self, pacing in anxious circles.

Not wanting him to be gone again.

--

Papyrus just smiled a little, relieved that they were still here. He raised his hands towards Doc before heading back up the steps, not wanting to yell, but his voice plainly heard from downstairs as he peeked into their room. Sans had woken up, yawning and reaching out to try and pet his younger self and calm him down.

“THEY WERE JUST DOWNSTAIRS ON THE COUCH.”

Gaster was still sleeping, his shoulders twitching now and then in his uncomfortable, hunched over position.

--

Doc noticed the twitching in Gaster’s shoulders, reaching over to lay a hand on them and rub gently, hoping it might calm him down. He was still tense from his sleep and unnerved from whatever he’d been dreaming about, but calmer, with Papyrus there.

Sans steadied under the other’s hand, breathing out a sigh of relief at Papyrus’ words.

“....sorry I woke you….”

--

He smiled and reached down to pat the other Sans on the head, “THAT’S ALRIGHT. GO DOWNSTAIRS TO SEE HIM. HE’S AWAKE.”

Gaster’s back spasmed at the touch and his eyes slowly opened. Panic flooded into his head and after a short delay his eyes shot open and he sat up abruptly, his back straight as a board. He inhaled sharply and quickly looked around the room, the pinpricks of light in his eyes landing on Doc and locking there.

The panic melted a little and he sighed, a hand reaching up to press into his face.

--

Sans nodded and hurried downstairs at the encouragement, still in his bipedal form and stumbling somewhat on the stairs, unused to them.

Doc was still rubbing Gaster’s back when he arrived, trying to gently calm him.

--

He tried to remember Doc’s advice. Let yourself be nervous. Don’t try to fight it.

So he did.

Gaster let himself shake and the remaining panic and dread he had felt in his dreams slip away on it’s own time without trying to force it. A single, tired eye looked at Sans as he came down the stairs and he managed a weak, shaky smile.

He was managing to smile a little more, he realized. That was good.

--

Sans tried to smile back, quickly realizing he didn’t know what to say and just… falling again into his quadruped form so he had an excuse.

It was easier to do this when he didn’t have to speak, anyway.

Trotting right up to them. Leaning up to curl next to them both. Try to get rid of the tension and fear by maybe being present.

His dad hugged him tight. So maybe he was doing good.

--

Gaster reached out to pet his head, his hand trembling badly each time.

Eventually he pulled it away, finding the motion a little too awkward when he was shaking his badly. So he rest his hands in his lap and let them shake for now. Even breaths. Just… try to relax but not try to push all the anxiety down either.

Ride it out.

Papyrus came down a moment later after changing out of his pajamas. “IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT?”

--

Sans didn’t object to the trembling, or to the petting stopping. He just stayed close, relieved to see them.

Doc looked up again at Papyrus’ voice, managing a voice to say, “Yes. We just couldn’t sleep. That’s all.”

--

Papyrus nodded and then glanced at his father, who nodded in agreement with what Doc had said.

That seemed to be all he needed.

“OKAY. WOULD YOU LIKE COFFEE?”

“Y-yeah th-that w-.. w-”

Ugh. Just… uuugggh.

Gaster nodded.

--

Doc continued rubbing his back, not commenting on the stutter. He just gave Papyrus a fragile smile and shook his head if the question was turned on him insted.

He just wanted to rest.

--

Papyrus moved away to the kitchen, Gaster scrunching his eyes shut once he was gone and curled up a little.

He hated this. He hated looking and sounding so beaten in front of his kids. He was supposed to be strong for them, to take care of them and not the other way around.

It made him feel like a terrible father.

[finesseandbones-blog]

Chapter 5

-- Day 3 Of Nostalgic Nightmare --

--------------------------------------------------

M a y   1 7 ,  2 0 3 X

8 : 4 5   P . M .

S a n s '   R e s i d e n c e , M o n s t e r  B a s e

L o c a t i o n   u n k n o w n

--------------------------------------------------

-- (BACK TO YOUR POV) --

I woke up with a body ache as my eyes try to regain my normal eyesight.

I was expecting that I'm back at my prison room, where Sans used to imprison me.

But I didn't wake up in there.

I woke up in a bed, a comfy one.

Regaining my energy, I tried stretching my arms and legs, but ended myself up suffering in pain.

Then I realized that my clothes were changed.

DID THAT FUCKTARD CHANGED ME LAST NIGHT?

That perverted imbecile.

I quickly tried to sit, but all these muscle pain triggered and guess what, I failed to do so.

While suffering from the pain, Sans came in with pills and my breakfast in a tray.

"Good morning, cookie. Did ya sleep well?" He asked while putting down my breakfast beside me.

My breakfast are newly cooked waffles with syrup and a tall glass of milk.

Damn this is delicious. Never expected this from a crazy ass skeleton.

"Still aching everywhere. Can't even make myself move." I replied weakly as he chuckled.

"Here, let me help you ; nice and slow." He walked beside me and supported my back and the back of my thighs with his hands.

When he attempted to carry me, I felt a sudden jolt of pain as I groaned and closed my eyes.

"Are you okay?" He assures me as he caressed my back.

"Yeah, I guess." I mumbled as he continued to help me sit up.

After seconds of pain and suffering, I successfully sat down in the bed with my back leaning against the pillow and my lower part resting on his bed.

"Okay. Can you feed yourself?" He asks as he settles my breakfast in a tray on my lap.

"I d-don't know. My body's really painful." I groaned as he sat beside me on the edge of his bed.

He grabbed the fork and knife beside my plate and started slicing the waffles into medium pieces that are small enough for my mouth to munch.

"Open wide, babe." He commanded as I opened my mouth to get a bite of his delicious art

---------------------------------------------------------------

M a y   1 7 ,  2 0 3 X

9 : 1 8  P . M .

S a n s '  B e d r o o m ,  S a n s '   R e s i d e n c e ,   M o n s t e r  B a s e

L o c a t i o n   u n k n o w n

--------------------------------------------------

After finishing my meal and taking my medicine, Sans and I had a little conversation.

"So, uh, do you think that this war will end?" I asked.

"I'm not sure, but heck am I tired of doing this." He ranted.

"Tired of what?"

"Of-" His phone suddenly rang as he picked it up from a small table and answered it.

"Hello?"

"She's not fine. She attempted to escape but a part of Undyne's army attacked her to make sure she was weak enough."

"Yeah, weak enough to KILL HER!"

"What do you mean I need to bring her there? Alphys, she's weak and when she tries to move a limb, she'll lose her mind from the pain!"

This imbecile is strangely thoughtful...

and who the hell is Alphys?

"Use a wheelchair? I seriously can't move her limbs remember?! Hey, look. Don't be sad because I am mad at you, okay?"

"Oh, she urgently requested? heh. okay. I'll talk to her instead. Okay?"

"Bye." He ended the call with this 'Alphys' thing

"Who was that?"

"It was Alphys. I'll explain to you later who she is. Right now, I need to call someone else. Excuse me for a minute."

He stood up and walked to the door but he stopped.

"Wait. You'll end up getting bored in here. I might take long but I'll let you watch a movie." He said as he grabbed a cd compiler

(AN: Those circular thing with jean-ish texture and a zipper and when you open it, you'll see cds)

He scanned through the compiler as he smirked and pulled out a cd.

You bitch don't tell me you're going to let me watch something kids wouldn't watch.

"This is one of my favorite movies. It's 10 Things I Hate About You. You'll enjoy it. I promise."

He turned on the television and the cd player and inserted the cd inside of it, then the opening started playing.

"There we go, I'll be back soon, I promise." He smiled as he left me all alone in his room.

Oh boy.

--------------------------------------------------

M a y   1 7 ,  2 0 3 X

9 : 3 6  P . M .

S a n s '   R e s i d e n c e , M o n s t e r   B a s e

L o c a t i o n   u n k n o w n

--------------------------------------------------

-- Sans' POV --

I rushed to my living room and dialed Undyne's number on my phone.

"HELLO, THIS IS THE GREAT PAPYRUS SPEAKING, HOW MAY I-"

 Oh, wait. I forgot that Papyrus is her "secretary".  

"Hey, Pap. I need to talk to Undyne right now."

"OH! HELLO BROTHER! WAIT A SECOND."

(Background sounds)

"UNDYNE! UNDYNE! SANS WOULD WANT TO HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH YOU RIGHT NOW!"

"GIVE ME A MINUTE, PAP!"

*mumbles something that I can't quite hear*

"What the hell do you want, G?"

"ARE YOU FUCKING-"

Contain yourself, G.

I inhaled as I gave out my best tone.

"Look, the human is badly injured, can you give us a couple of weeks for her to-"

"A COUPLE OF WEEKS? G, ARE YOU SERIOUS? MY ARMY IS GETTING TIRED OF LISTENING TO THE SAME LESSONS OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND MY ARMY'S DECREASING AT POPULATION COUNT! Who knows, some cunt killed a part of them." She shouted, making me throw my phone on the floor.

Thank Asgore that this phone is "surface-proof".

"I know and STOP SCREAMING"

Actually, I'm the cunt who killed one part of your army, Undyne just to keep the lady safe so uhm, yeah. I know.

"But, if it's okay with you and Alphys, can you please try to make Mettaton go here, or maybe Alphys can come too." I hesitantly requested.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS, G? YOUR HOUSE IS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HUMAN'S BASE! YOU'RE JUST COVERING UP IN THERE TO CAPTURE HUMANS LIKE THAT NITWIT YOU HAVE THERE!"

"For your information, I kinda teleported the whole house to the monster base and STOP SCREAMING IN THE NAME OF ASGORE!

She's not a nitwit! She's fragile and brave. All that she wanted is for this war to end like the other humans desire. Just, please. She's too weak. We're on the surface so food won't heal her that much, even the surface CORE won't do much."

I'd dare not to say this but, Undyne. If you consider her kind as nitwits, then fuck me; she's the bravest and most amazing nit wit ever.

"Wow. That was fast. Okay, fine. I'll give you 3 weeks. After that, I'll send Alphys and Mettaton there. Take care of her with all your dignity. I'll-"

"Christ, Undyne. Stop with those corny-ass speeches. Papyrus will end up training you with his greatness."

"Whatever. Oh and I'll send the Dummy and Muffet there to keep her company. Sounds good?"

FINALLY!

"Yeah. Sounds good. Thanks, Dyne!"

"Don't call me that!" Heh, must be irritated.

"Ok. Sure, whatever. Welp, gotta check how she's doing. See ya."

"See ya, lazy wondernerd."

Muffet.

MUFFET!

"Wait! Undyne!"

"What?!"

"How's Muffet doing? I accidentally crushed her because of my lazers before I kidnapped the human."

"Oh, she's been recovering. When Cake knew about the accident, Cake told me that If she ever saw you again, She'll swear to Asgore she will kill you."

"Oh, I am sooo scared huhu. Anyways, See you soon!"

"She wasn't joking, actually. Cake can get really vicious and relentless than Muffet."

"Yeah I am aware of that. I really need to go now. Bye!"

"Bye again."

Bless this angry fish, Asgore. Bless that fish.

---------------------------------

M a y   1 7 ,   2 0 3 X

9 : 4 5   P . M .

T h e   K i t c h e n

---------------------------------

After my heated conversation with Undyne, I plan to make the human's dinner for tonight.

I don't feel hungry that much but I'm sure that the human's hungry.

I chopped some onions, garlic, bell peppers and mushrooms. I started preheating a pan and a pot of water and opened a pack of pasta. If Pap ever had teleporting powers like mine, Oh he will want some of these and run around while shouting "GOOD SHIT" in every angle of the house.

(TIME SKIP LOOOOL)

--------------------------------------

M a y   1 7 ,   2 0 3 X

1 0 : 1 3   P . M .

--------------------------------------

After the cooking process has been done, I did some plating stuff and made sure it's worth her health. I grabbed her pills and a glass of water and placed it on the tray. I grabbed the tray and went back to my room. I opened the door with my powers.

As I opened the door, I saw her still in the same position, still watching the same movie but in a different scene. This is the scene where Kat volunteers to dictate her poem (that was dedicated to Patrick) in class.

"Hey sweetcheeks! How are you doing?" I asked her.

"I feel sad for Kat because she thinks that Patrick was playing her feelings! Buuuut on the other hand, I blame Joey for being a dickass."

"Heh, same here. I'll prepare a box of tissue in case you'll cry on the next thing that will happen."

"What do you mean?"

I pointed my finger on the tv as Kat started her poem:

" I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair.

I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare.

I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind.

I hate you so much that it makes me sick. It even makes me rhyme.

I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie.

I hate it when you make me laugh, Even worse when you make me cry. "

Prue started tearing up as I chuckled a bit. She looks so fucking cute.

"What's so funny?" She angrily asked me as I smiled

"Nothing, nothing. I remembered something." I remembered you being the cutest fucker when I first talked to you.

She scoffed as she continued watching the tear jerking scene.

" I hate the way you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call.

But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you.

Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all. "

After Kat ran out of class (in the movie), I glared at Prue, all wet with her tears.

I chuckled a bit.

But I asked myself;

Will she love me back?

--------------------------------------------------

EDITED!

- Lennie x

P.S. 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU IS A GOOD MOVIE. WATCH IT HAHAHA

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Chapter 4

Chapter 6