#billy has a pink bracelet of course

[pinchcinnamon]

ok, but billy and steve DEFINITELY have this paired bracelets

[bigdumbbambieyes]

i’m back with more besties Billy & Chrissy headcanons!!

but with a twist - modern au 🤍

• Both of them have Emotional Support Waterbottles™️. Billy’s is black and has slapped multiple stickers on it while Chrissy opted for a pink bottle with a thick silicone straw, the bottle has plastic handmade bracelets that spell her name wrapped around the top.

• Chrissy gives her Boys different crystals and gems to carry around. She gives Billy a rose quartz and obsidian, Steve a rose quartz to match Billy’s and a citrine, and Eddie a moonstone and jasper. She keeps bloodstone and clear quartz on her always.

• Billy always borrows Chrissy’s lip balms whenever his lips get chapped. He doesn’t care what flavour or scent they are, or if they leave behind a hint of colour, he’ll use any of them. That is, until Chrissy buys an extreme plumping lip gloss and Billy puts it on unknowingly. After that, he reads the label every time.

• Their phones have matching lock screens that Chrissy changes for them monthly.

• Billy’s go-to Starbucks drink is an iced coffee with a splash of oat milk and Chrissy’s is a vanilla bean frapp with a shot of espresso, half sweet, no whip.

• Chrissy loves to point her phone’s camera at Billy and record him when he’s going off about something stupid or when he’s working out while she’s chilling on the couch and she puts a snapchat filter on his face. There’s multiple videos of Billy bitching about his crush (Steve) being clueless while he looks like a frog or has a broccoli for a head and Chrissy has to do her best not to laugh. He will either playfully smack the phone out of her hand once he realizes or laugh and ask to see it.

• Billy and Eddie like to watch Steve and Chrissy make silly tiktok videos of them performing a dance or any kind of trend, but they refuse to participate.

• Chrissy collects Squishmallows and has a Pinterest board full of the ones she wants. Billy sends the board to Eddie and Steve and tells them to buy any Squishies they come across that are on the board. This means Chrissy will receive a dozen Squishies every birthday and Christmas and she loves her Boys for that and feels so spoiled in the best way.

• Billy and Chrissy call each other ‘stink’ as a nickname.

• Chrissy loves to prepare an aesthetic picnic in the park for her Boys. She takes pictures of Billy and Eddie sitting on the blue checkered blanket because their metalhead outfits and cigarettes contrast so good with the Pinterest-inspired set. Of course, she and Steve dress in their best country club attire so at least their pics go with the aesthetic (and she has Billy take the pictures because Eddie just doesn’t know good angles).

• The four of them have the most chaotic BeReal pictures all the time.

• In the morning after a sleepover, Chrissy loves to make both herself and Billy bowls of cereal to eat while they watch YouTube videos in her bed. Billy, who loves to sleep in, is half asleep as he lazily eats his cereal and can’t focus on the video at all while Chrissy is wide awake and talking to him.

• Chrissy loves to play Animal Crossing New Horizons and she updates Billy on her villagers every morning over text.

[imagineslashers]

Can I request a pure, angelic s/o that loves to make flower crowns for the slasher boys?

cute! x also added some accompanying emoji faces because they fit so well hahah

Michael

⚆-⚆

- very confused.

- he loves to watch you make them, fascinated with the amount of skill required to weave and bend intricate pieces of flowers and stems between your fingers.

- Michael sometimes will just sit opposite you and watch you do it, fingering the stems with curiosity.

- however, when you presented one to him, he just made a confused noise and stared at it, unsure what to do with it.

- when you tried putting it on his head, he kept leaning back until he was practically lay on the carpet like a feral cat.

- he bats it away and will probably hiss if you keep insisting he wears it.

- however, he does accept the gift eventually, he just refuses to wear anything on his head that interferes either with his mask or his look.

- instead, Michael sports flower bracelets or lets you wrap them around his knife handles.

- becomes a big fan of the red coloured flowers because they match the bloodied weapons.

Bubba

(◐‿◐✿)♥

- loves them! He’s always keen to help, but he’s not very good at it, and usually ends up crushing the flowers.

- however, he doesn’t get upset by this and will still present the end product to you, in a mess of crushed petals and stems.

- if you praise him for it, he becomes all blushy and content, prompting you to make more.

- he wears his all the time, even though his family teases him relentlessly for it.

- Bubba takes great pride in his flower accessories, and cried once when his crown broke because he caught it when putting his apron on.

- his victims are super confused to see this huge, bloody man with a chainsaw and a flower crown slanted over his head.

- wears his crowns in the shower, literally everywhere, and will always come straight to you if he breaks or loss it.

- basically, Bubba is a big soft baby.

Jason

(๑•́ᗜ•́)

- not only does he love watching you make these, but he’s also very good at it.

- Jason is very talented with his hands (hehe) and he is very quick to learn new skills, especially when you’re involved, he just loves being by your side doing anything.

- he likes that you’re so passionate about this, and that it brings out your softness.

- you’re so precious to him, he just wants to keep you constantly safe and happy.

- he gets really into the flower crown thing, bringing you back all kinds of flowers he finds in the forest, even finding certain weeds pretty.

- Jason doesn’t wear them very much though, only because he wants to keep them safe and decorate his cabin with them.

- the one time he wore one, a teen ripped it off him when fighting, and Jason just yeeted the kid across the forest in rage at the sight of his broken gift from you.

- of course, he comes back to you and whines until you make him another.

Billy & Stu

(Ɔ˘з˘)(ꈍヮꈍ)ε˘ C)

- you would have thought you’d given them a gold watch with their responses.

- Billy plays it cool, grinning and flicking his hair aside as he insists you be the one to put it on his head because of course he can’t do it himself.

- he rocks it throughout the school, strutting, showing it off.

- Stu is a lot less contained, he gives you puppy eyes and laughs exciteably.

- nobody has ever given him something so personal that they made by their own hands!

- Stu insists he wants a matching one to Billy, and eventually they both insist that you wear one too so you all can match.

- the way they see it, these crowns are signs of ownership, that they own you and they’re equally yours.

- if anybody in school even smiles, or makes a tiny comment, Billy grabs them by the collar and will actually growl like a dog, with Stu leering over his shoulder.

- nobody messes with the Flower Crown Squad

The Man

(ﾟдﾟ )

- okay, so stinky hunter man doesn’t like being taken care of very much because he’s not used to it, so it takes time for him to warm up to your love.

- however, it’s obvious that you are different to him, and he’s only soft around you, which of course means he’s equally possessive of you.

- when you start making crowns, he scoffs jokingly, but he comments on how well they turn out.

- he’s a bit like Jason in the sense that he will actively seek to bring you home flowers from the woods or probably stolen from someone’s garden.

- it makes him a bit uncomfortable at the thought of looking vulnerable though, so you have to practically wrestle him the first time to get one on his head, and then he just sits there like a stunned deer in headlights.

- he looks in the mirror and his face lights up.

- “Ooh, okay!”

- does a little turn, flashing a grin in thanks.

- he starts to love the confusion that it sets in people when he’s shooting arrow bolts at them, but wearing a bright pink flower crown.

- he prefers seeing you in them, though, finding it as adorable as it is a bit of a turn-on.

- yes, he will ask you to wear one in bed.

Beetlejuice

ԅ(≖‿≖ԅ )

- um, what is this?? Flowers?? Gross

- he takes some convincing, but eventually you notice he starts to watch you making them more, leaning over your shoulder and suggesting colour combos.

- finally (it only takes like a week) he gives in and wants one badly.

- he requests his colours (green, black, purple) so you make him one of fake flowers, which is easier because he kills real flowers in a second.

- Beej follows you around until you’ve finished and then (like Billy) insists you bestow it on his head.

- it becomes his signature accessory, like his suit jacket, and he fusses with getting it just right on his head.

- Beej wants you to make more flower stuff, like bracelets, and ropes, and... yeah, he gets very carried away into horny land

- regardless, he’s very proud of it and tells everyone what a good creator you are.

- any mocking of you or his crown = BJ scaring them so badly they have a heart attack.

[neonponders]

Head canon time:

Okay okay okay okayokayokay so this post has super cute art, but the reblog comment on it aligned with something that’s been percolating in my brain for a ~while~ now:

Eleven as Steve’s sister.

Obviously neither Steve nor Eleven have any idea. From the time El escapes the lab, they don’t interact much. Even if they’re in the same room, they kind of bounce around each other, because...why else would they? Steve’s at least five years older and she’s still building her social skills/confidence, especially around men.

But then Steve gets his hair cut short, and the back likes to curl very similarly to how El’s did when hers was short. Their hair needs its own weight to pull it straight.

And it’s dark brown. Followed by clear brown eyes.

It’s not enough for anyone to connect the dots, of course, but then El’s “mother” dies. Her mind had been a flickering light for a long time, eventually her heart began to match. But when a heart stops, it stops.

Her sister calls Hopper, in case El wants to know, and they show up, at the very least, to attend the funeral and to help the sister go through dusty boxes. Maybe there’s a picture of El’s mother that she wants...

Instead they find surrogacy papers.

Old bank statements.

Apparently at the time of her involvement with government conspiracy, she had been very down on her luck. She made the mistake of doubling up on volunteering to be a surrogate mother, as well as whatever the hell the Hawkins Library did to her.

But the names on the papers are John and Eliza Harrington.

“Like...Steve?” El asks when he finally has gaped at the papers for too long.

Hopper inhales because he isn’t sure when he did that last and scratches his face. “Yeah...like Steve.”

He has mixed emotions: the empathetic devastation at losing a kid, but also the relief that this involves someone already in the know.

They go over to Steve’s house.

The guy answers the door with a slice of pizza in his hand, still chewing. “Hi, Hop. Ellie.”

She offers a small smile. “Steve.”

“Are your parents home, kid?”

He shook his head and swallowed. “Just left this morning. They have a time-share condo in Mexico.”

“You didn’t go with them?”

Steve scoffs while turning around back into the house. “My idea of a good time isn’t with my parents. What d’you need?”

“Well,” Hopper sighs, feeling too big in the foyer. Eleven stabs his hip with a finger and he begins the tedious process of unlacing his boots. “I need to go through your parents’ papers. You got an attic, a cellar, an office?”

Steve, bless him, looks genuinely clueless. “Uh. Yeah...are we in trouble for something?”

“Not in trouble, no. I just wanna cross reference something.”

Bless him twice, because he actually lets Hopper into his attic. His father’s office. Then his mother’s.

He finds it in his mother’s bedroom. It was just a shot in the dark to try the safe in the closet, but so many people actually keep their safes unlocked for easy access.

Hospital documents. Even ultrasound photos.

“Jane Elizabeth...Harrington?” Steve chirps over his shoulder.

He looks up at the chief, who’s rubbing his beard again. Their heads turn to Eleven sitting on Mrs. Harrington’s bed. “My name’s Jane.”

Those big brown eyes blink between her and Hopper. “How do you know that? I thought you came from a lab?”

Hopper intercepted, “She used her,” he gestured vaguely to his own head, “to find her mother. Or...the surrogate your parents paid for.”

“And where’s she?”

“Dead,” said Eleven.

Hopper reiterated, “She passed about two weeks ago. We found your parents’ names in her paperwork.”

“But - what happened? How does a baby just go missing? Better question: why don’t I have super powers?”

Hopper had already read the hospital’s apology and refund of the Harrington’s funds, insurance, the works. “I think that asshole...Brenner...claimed the baby for his work, early enough that it could be written off as a miscarriage. Whatever they did to El’s mother, whatever went on in that lab, landed her with her abilities. It’s nothing to covet, all right.”

Steve looked winded. He crossed his arms and let himself collapse against the wall. “So...what do we do?”

“Uh...” Hopper fanned his face with the ultrasound pictures. “There isn’t a lot we can do. Telling your parents would open up a lot of closed doors that we can’t really afford to open. Dr. Owens, being the swell guy he is, provided me paperwork that grants El as my kid.

“But.

“You already know each other. You already contributed to saving the world together. So...I think that’s up to the two of you.”

Both of them, for all they��d been through, just looked like kids. They were kids, even if Steve now stood in his twenties. And he stood off the wall, now, to approach his sister.

“Can I, uhm...can I hug you?”

El slid off the high bed, easily falling against his body for arms to wrap tightly around her. They stayed like that for a long moment, then Hopper joined them to rub between their shoulder blades.

“Oh god. You’re dating Mike Wheeler.” El hummed a curious sound and he elaborated, “Am I gonna have to pound on him if he pisses you off?”

“I wish you would,” Hopper confirmed.

Fast forward to Mike being extremely confused at his girlfriend suddenly spending a lot of time with Steve Harrington, of all people.

“Maybe she’s gotten a taste for older men?” Lucas teased, and got punched in the shoulder for it.

Max’s eyes rolled but she didn’t grace that with an answer.

Mike fumed, “She was supposed to be with me today! Then she called and said she had other plans - ”

Max chimed, “Are you sure you had plans? Or that you had a plan but she beat you to it?”

“It doesn’t matter! I see her walking around with Steve Harrington all the time and it’s weird!”

Will said for nobody in particular, “We’re not the ones to judge weird anymore.”

Lucas countered, “Or we’re the experts on weird. Speaking of, where the hell is Dustin?”

“With Steve,” Max grinned right at Mike, and stood up. “Speaking of, my ride’s probably here.”

“Where are you going?” Lucas asked.

“Over to Steve’s.”

The boys looked at each other and ran for their shoes. Sure enough, they left the Wheelers’ basement, circled around the house, and found the blue Camaro waiting in the cul-de-sac. 

“Woah woah woah, what the hell is this?” Billy said hoarsely. He peered over his sunglasses at the teenagers filing into his backseat.

Max shoved a bottle of water towards him. “You’re not drinking enough, again.”

“Don’t bitch at me. Tell your friends to scram.”

“Are you really going over to Steve’s?” Will began.

“What do you know about Steve hanging out with my girlfriend?” Mike joined.

“Steve’s got a pool, right?” Lucas directed at Max.

Billy revved his engine with a sharp right turn, throwing all of them to one side of the car. Max held her head from where it had hit the window. “Cool it, you shouldn’t even be driving in the first place.”

“My blood did not turn black for this bullshit.”

The kids in the back stared out of the windows like Loch Nora was a safari tour. At the sound of the Camaro’s engine, Steve trotted down the slope of the lawn in swimming trunks with a towel around his shoulders, waving them through the gate.

Will and Lucas sprinted after him. Mike followed at a skeptical pace while Max lingered for Billy’s sake. No one noticed that Billy wore pink and turquoise swimming trunks that fit more to Steve’s taste.

Mike sure as hell noticed the red and purple, woven friendship bracelets that El and Steve wore, though. The pale, skinny nerd just stared, dumbfounded between Hopper floating contently over the pool, El laughing in a one-piece covered in hibiscus flowers, and Steve sitting at the foot of Billy’s lounge chair.

Then Robin strolled through the gate with a stack of pizza and chicken wing boxes. “All right, we ready? What are you doing, dweeb? It’s a 101 degrees out. Get wet.”

And shoved Mike Wheeler right into the pool.

[breanime]

Bre’s Boys Picture Preference: Your Baby Girl

Disclaimer: All of these adorable babies are internet babies, I do not own or know these babies, though I do wish them the absolute best lives. 

Billy Russo: When you told him you were pregnant, Billy kind of went on auto-pilot. He was there for every ultrasound, indulged your cravings no matter how nonsensical or inconvenient they were, bought all the books and bottles and tiny clothes, but he still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that he was about to be a father. Honestly, whenever he thought about it, all he could feel was this immense sense of guilt that he wouldn’t be able to give the baby the one thing it would really need: love. He could provide a home and education and all the material things, but Billy just couldn’t see himself loving an infant; he was still surprised that he loved you, to be honest. But then he saw her. And he held her in his arms for the first time, and Billy had never felt so weak, so happy, and so in love ever in his life. He felt such a sense of protectiveness and love and security when your baby girl looked up at him with big, black eyes...his eyes. Billy soon finds out that he’s powerless when it comes to his daughter; he just wants to hold her all day, one blink of her big, sweet eyes and he’s mush. “I will never let anyone hurt you,” he promises as he buckles her into the car, “I will make sure you have everything you want, no matter what it is. If you want it, Daddy will get it for you.” He can’t help but caress her soft, fat cheek with his finger, melting as she stares up at him, blowing spit bubbles as he talks. “Daddy is gonna give you the world.” 

Logan Delos: A lot of fathers call their baby girls their princess, but with Logan, he truly thought she was a princess. Your baby was a Daddy’s girl through and through; she could be fussy and whiny with you all day long, but as soon as she saw Logan’s face, she was all smiles. Logan doted on her, kissing her chubby little cheeks and pretending to eat her fat feet while she giggled her little head off. “Are you Dada’s Princess?” He cooed, lifting her in the air so she could kick her hands and feet in excitement. “Are you Dada’s perfect little Princess?” Logan actually designed and commissioned a crown (with a matching gold bracelet with her name engraved on it with a note that said “Daddy’s Princess”), because his daughter is a DAMN PRINCESS. And your little girl loved being royalty. It got to the point that she would whine and cry when you put her in anything less than a princess dress, and God help you if you forgot the crown her Daddy got her. And when Logan was out in public, dressed in one of his suits with his thick hair styled perfectly and his 1000-watt smile aimed at his princess, who was smiling up at him, pulling at his beard and babbling happily in her blush pink dress with her crown glittering in the sunlight, well... No one who saw the two of them could say they weren’t royalty. 

Jax Teller: Jax was a sucker for your baby girl’s toothless smile. He literally would stop what he was doing if she smiled at him, making him late to many a meeting--not that he minded. You would come home to see Jax laying on the floor with her, his smile wide as she laughed and tugged at his offered finger. The croweaters who clean the dorms are shocked when they go to Jax’s room and find it full of diapers and little pink blankies and cute onesies and stuff. The guys stop smoking inside and have gotten into actual fist fights over who gets to hold her next (Juice can’t cut it in the ring, but if the prize is cuddles with your daughter, he WILL knock someone out). Jax gets her a mini kutte that says “Daughter of Anarchy” on the back and sews a “President of Daddy’s Heart” patch on the front. The ringtone on his personal phone is his baby girl’s giggle, and no matter what bullshit he has to deal with via the club or his family or whatever, one smile from his daughter makes it all worth it. Since she was born, Jax smiled more, laughed more, practically floated on air. And he wanted to be a better man--for her. Wanted to make sure he was there for her, taught her right from wrong, how to protect herself, and most of all--he wanted to make sure she always had that smile; the kind of smile that could light up a room. He dedicated himself to your daughter and preserving that angelic smile for the rest of his life. 

Coco Cruz: You had terrible heartburn all throughout your pregnancy, and when your daughter was born, you finally saw why. Your baby was 10% child and 90% hair, just like her father. Coco loved her big hair, and she loved when he picked her fro out or washed it for her. You would hear nothing but laughter coming from the bathroom on wash day, and when you walked in, you saw Coco, inexplicably shirtless now, playing with your daughter’s hair. She wrapped up in a towel, giggling as Coco talked to her. “Papi is gonna put some of this in your hair,” he said, reaching for the coconut oil, “ooh, and some of this,” grabbing the peppermint oil as well. She shrieked happily, making grabby hands at the peppermint oil. “Okay, but you can’t eat it--mami, what did I just say? No no no,” as he picked her up and carried her to your room, kissing her fat cheek, “let’s get you a toy for you to chew on, okay? Aw, my baby... You’re so beautiful, just like your Mama.” He sits on the bed with her, taking her out of the towel and wrapping her up in your nice silk sheets (because she’s fucking worth it), as he continues doing her hair. You watch, heart full, as your little girl reaches up and starts patting Coco’s hair. “Oh, you’re doing Daddy’s hair now,” he asks, smiling as she laughs, “You’re so talented, mami! Thank you!” 

Angel Reyes: Angel and your baby girl were best friends from birth. She loved playing with her Daddy, loved being in his arms, and Angel felt the same way. The two of them were as thick as thieves, always laughing and playing, and she absolutely adored going on walks with him. So Angel would pack her diaper bag and take her to the beach, where she could waddle around with no shoes and play in the sand. Every day, his daughter made him laugh. It was like, once she was born, Angel finally felt like a complete person. This was who he was meant to be--this little girl’s father--and he was so grateful for the opportunity. He walked in front of her, phone out, taping her as she shuffled after him. “Come on, mi amor, come to Daddy,” he cheered. She stopped and put her fists up, making him laugh. “Oh, you wanna fight? Alright, come on then, champ! Put your dukes up! Show me what you got!” She scrunched her little face up in what was meant to be an intimidating face, but she only made herself that much cuter. Angel melted, dropping to his knees to grab and hug her. “You’re so damn cute,” he cooed, kissing her as she laughed, “You make Daddy so happy.” “Put up your dukes, Dada!” She shrieked, punching him in the face. He laughed, taking her fat fist and kissing it. “I love you so much.”

Miguel Galindo: When it came to your daughter, no one could tell Miguel anything. In his eyes, she was perfect. She was only a toddler, but she ran the house. She had Miguel and Nestor eating out of the palm of her hand, could bat her eyes and get you to give her extra sweets, even Cristobal wasn’t immune when it came to his adorable baby sister. Miguel spent many hours in his office with her on his lap, because when she wanted cuddles from Papa, she got cuddles from Papa. In fact, the staff started calling her “Boss Baby Galindo”, and Miguel had to agree--she was already the boss of the house for sure. He doesn’t realize how much she emulates him until he takes the family to their beach house for a little vacation. He, of course, has to hold your baby girl as soon as they get out of the car, and he’s holding her, both of them wearing their matching circular sunglasses (her’s customized into hearts as well), as he directs his security and staff. He sees Cristobal struggling with his over-packed backpack, so Miguel puts his daughter on the hood of the car for a second to help him, and then he hears her babbling. He looks up to see her pointing and “talking” to the staff, just like she’s seen him do. He can even make out certain words in her cute little tirade, such as “right now” and “ahora” (because his baby is bossy in two languages) as well as “let’s go”. He picks her up and kisses her cheek, proud of his Boss Baby Galindo. 

Nick Amaro: Your baby girl is the friendliest baby ever. Strangers are always stopping to wave at her, and she waves and smiles back, and Nick has to stand there and pretend he isn’t ready to cap a bitch for the imagined crime of hypothetically considering kidnapping his adorable daughter. Still, he loved taking his baby out, and he couldn’t lie--he loved all the compliments they got, loved how his little girl was such a sweetheart, always eager to meet new people. They couldn’t get three steps before some sweet old lady was cooing over her, and Nick just beamed with pride. One day, he decided to take her on a ride after he got off of work. He wrapped her up in her favorite fluffy blanket and buckled her into her pink car seat. He kissed her cheeks a few times before standing back, just smiling down at his perfect little angel, and he felt his heart swell. “I love you and your brother and sister more than anything in this entire world,” he whispered as he stared down at her, “I’m gonna be so much better than my Dad was, I promise...” The weight of that promise made his eyes water up, and he turned away, not wanting her to see him like this, but when he glanced down at her, she was giving him the sweetest little smile, and he couldn’t help but laugh softly. He leaned down and she reached up and patted at his cheek, as if to brush the tears away, and Nick took her little hand and kissed it. “I promise...”

Johnny Tuturro: Your daughter was cute, and she knew it. She had big, round eyes and her dad’s thick eyelashes. Every day when she woke up, Johnny would cradle her to his chest and tell her “you’re the most beautiful thing in the whole world. You’re smart, you’re worthy, you’re strong, and Daddy loves you with all of his heart”. He taught her how to crawl, taught her to say “Dada” and “Mama” and “wawa” (water), took her into the ocean and let her kick her fat little feet until she was practically delirious from laughter. You taught her how to make puppy dog eyes. And so, after doing her hair, putting bows in it, and getting her dressed, Johnny put her on the carpet. “Stay right here while Daddy gets your shoes, okay? Don’t move.” She nodded, giving him her most innocent smile. Johnny kissed her before going to get the shoes, and you watched, amused, as your daughter crawled away and started climbing the ottoman. Johnny groaned when he walked in and saw her, standing over her with his hands on his hips. “What did Daddy say? Hm? I said don’t move,” he frowned, but you could see the amusement in his eyes. Your daughter looked up at him, gave him that heart melting smile, and titled her head. “Wuv you,” she cooed, and Johnny fell to his knees, grabbing her and showering her in kisses. “I love you more!” You laughed, shaking your head at your sweet little con artist. 

Rio: Rio didn’t call your baby girl his Princess. She was THE QUEEN. Rio sat her on his lap while he made calls, letting her listen to the serious tone of his voice and learn how to talk to people (she was a baby, so...she didn’t talk at all yet, but still), and he never let her forget that she was special, because she was his daughter. As she went into toddler-hood, your daughter loved being around her Daddy. She would hold his hand and walk around the neighborhood with him, pointing at things and naming them, which he proudly encouraged. She was the first thing he thought about when he woke up in the mornings, and he was the last thing she saw when she went to sleep at nights--even if it was only on a video call. Rio adored her, and she loved him right back. Rio would sit her on his lap and put her hair in a bun, telling her how cute she was, and she would say “Dada cute too!”, making him laugh. She had started copying him more and more, and Rio thought it was the funniest thing. One day, as you and your daughter waited in the car for Rio to finish some business, he came out and saw her playing in the back seat. He opened the door and peered down at her, smirking at the look on her face--it was classic him. “We all good?” She asked, her lips pursued. He laughed, crawling into the car to smother her in kisses. “Yeah, mama, we all good.”

*******************************************************************************************

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[metalheadcowboy]

billy entertaining experiment steve by making him those colorful friendship bracelets (Yknow the cool ones with dif colors that can sometimes be really complicated??🤣) and Steve struggles to follow the patterns at first so he just chooses the colors billy just makes him whatever he wants and Steve is all there watching like 🤩🥺for me👉👈???

YES PLEASE WEHPVFWJEKDPEJ

When Steve first gets a good look at Billy, when he’d brought back into the safety of Hoppers cabin, one of the first things he notices are his wrists decorated with gorgeous, colorful friendship bracelets. He seems to have one of every color, different patters, different combinations, it’s fascinating to him.

And Billy thinks it’s cute how interested in them Steve is, always admiring them, finding a reason to play with the sting bracelets tied to his wrist. So, quickly he decides of course that Steve needs some of his own. So, he makes him one, lavender and pale yellow, his favorite colors, in a thick intricate pattern, intertwined in the middle where he stuck beads to spell ‘STEVE’ with a little black heart bead on either side.

When he gives it to Steve he’s all blushy, tips of his ears and tops of his cheeks dusty pink, making the sparse freckles on his nose pop.

“For me?” Steve asked pleasantly surprised, looking up from his and El’s game of three-sixteen.

“Yeah, if you don’t want it you-”

“No,” Steve said, already holding out his arm, “I want.” And Billy’s heart just swells as he ties the bracelet on Steve’s wrist and watches him admire it just like he admired Billy’s own.

It isn’t long before Steve starts asking how to make them. Luckily after Starcourt, when he was in the hospital, El would come in every day and teach him how to make a new kind of bracelet, so he was pretty well versed. But the act proves to be more challenging then they both thought.

“Too hard,” Steve groaned in defeat, throwing his head back onto the seat of the couch from his spot on the floor.

“C’mon,” Billy encouraged, “You almost got it, just a few rough spots.” But Steve only seems to be getting more agitated by the idea of trying again if the shaking of the coffee table told him anything.

“You make me one,” Steve suggested, handing over light pink, dark pink, and crimson red string.

“Steve,” Billy pushed the string back over to him, only for it to be pushed right back.

“Billy, please,” And he really can’t say no when Steve gives him the sad puppy dog eyes. So, he ends up making him the bracelet, and another one, and another one, until he had to start making them bigger fit around his forearms because there were too many to fit on his wrists anymore.

Soon Steve has hand made bracelets and anklets galore, even a even a choker. And Billy would make him a million more if it meant he got to see him smile.

Send me hc’s 💛💛

[yamagucji]

pairing: bokuto x gn!reader

sypnosis: a timeline of your love with bokuto explained in colors

warnings: love that ends in angst, death

song to listen to: come out and play by billie eilish

a/n: each color represents a new timeline! also thank you @yeskoushi bby for teaching me how to add dividers <3

You reach a hand out for the lonesome boy hidden underneath the shelter of a green playground slide. The other kids around you seem to be having their own enjoyment— so why isn’t he too?

He looks up at you hesitantly. The shade seems to mask the streaks on his face perfectly, yet it fails to hide the dark red blemishing his eyes. At a strangers glance he looks feeble, impotent even. But appearances serve no effect on your 7 year old self. The only thing on your mind right now is finding a playmate. So without a care for the world around you, you verbalize the thought that’s been lingering on your mind ever since you caught sight of him.

“Why don’t you come out and play?”

The orange hues cast upon by the orb above your heads illuminates. Your legs dangled off the monkey bars, handmade paper hats nestled on top of your heads. Weekend has finally arrived, allowing you and Bokuto to roam the grounds freely. There’s a shared innocence that protects the two of you from the worlds malevolence, nevertheless, it’s not enough to stop the worries from manifesting your mind.

“Bo,”

He pauses mid sentence, humming in response to your use of his nickname.

“What’s junior high going to be like?”

“It’s going to be fun! I bet our parents are finally going to let us go to all kinds of places. I bet they have cool clubs too. My uncle says I should join the volleyball club but I don’t really like it...”

He greets you on your first day of junior high, just as he’d always done the days before that. A single blue bellflower lies between the tip of his thumb and index finger. It’s soft and fragile, like the delicate way you patch up his bruises. There isn’t anything much to it other than the genuine adoration he has for you. When your fingers brush against his just as he’s passing the bellflower to you however, there’s a new and akin warmth that bubbles within the pit of his stomach. It’s strange, he thinks. But unbeknownst to him, you seem to be feeling it too.

A shared warmth radiates between you. It’s spreads to your stomach, all the way up to your rose pink tainted cheeks. His love for volleyball has grown, just as his love for you has. He’s finally experienced the moment that ignites his passion for the sport and immediately, as soon as the game ends, you come bracing for him like two lovebirds reuniting once again. There is no longer an innocence that surrounds you two, but instead, feelings that have come to mature over the course of time.

He wraps around the handmade, purple bracelet around your wrist. You know he’s taken a lot of time on it by the way the knots are tied perfectly, like the one settled on the pit of your stomachs.

“It’s my promise.” He mumbles shyly, a stark contrast to his usual buoyancy.

“For what?”

He meets your gaze this time, caressing the bracelet that fits perfectly around your skin. “For the future.”

White blankets the universe around you. You seek the constellations above, tracing them with your fingertips the way Bokuto does on your skin. Stargazing was a silent celebration between you two, a formal ending to a chapter of your lives. You’re adults now, and the boy nestled beside you is more than excited about the thought of ultimate freedom.

He thinks of the future again, this time thinking about what he plans to do— with you, of course. He’s too shy to say, but he hope’s you’ll stay.

You fidget with the bracelet on your wrist. It’s a little worn, given its years. There’s red, blemishing the skin under his eyes just like the moment you first saw him. The air around you feels sickly uncomfortable, and you find yourself yearning for that innocence. Oh how you wish you were back to being young again, unaware of the worlds unfairness.

“What to do you mean you only have a few months left?”

There’s a searing feeling on his throat, though he pays no mind to it. “But I had so many plans with you. I wanted you to be in my future.”

Pink is the color that shows up once again. It represents a new love— this time restrained, limited by your remaining days. Bokuto never goes a week without pouring his love for you in every way possible. He seeks out the most beautiful roses, grasping them delicately like he did with the blue bellflower years ago. His words of appraisals are never ending, telling you how much he loves you over, and over again like a song on repeat.

Though, each day feels like another step on top of broken glass. He absolutely hates the way your room becomes more suffocating, slowly closing in on its own white walls. Yet pain remains ignored, because he’d much rather have you enjoy your last moments together than have you see how broken he really is.

He stares at the green moss beneath his feet. There are memories etched onto his mind, heart, and soul. He’s spent the years after your passing reminiscing, yearning for the past— but today, he painfully chooses to close your story book. He realizes now, that there is no happily ever after in this world. It exists only in children’s story books.

There is no telling of when he’ll stop longing for you. He wishes you could’ve been there to congratulate him on his successes, as you’ve done so when he first fell in love with volleyball, fell in love with you.

He looks up now, dull eyes staring at the same green slide from your childhoods. Your voice plays on his mind for the umpteenth time today, like a broken record player.

“Why don’t you come out and play?”

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Jigsaw // Black: Part Three

Home

A/N: This is the final part of the Jigsaw series, and I could not be happier to have it done. I’ve carried this one around in my head for quite some time now, and while I don’t regret a single thing, it’s been rough to say the least. I want to thank everyone who has stuck it out and made it to this final chapter. I truly hope you like the way it ends. 

Warning: major character death (I think by now that goes without saying) 

Word Count: 2,625 

A young woman sat quietly at the table as two detectives looked on through the one way glass. Her hands were in her lap, her eyes trained on a small dent in the sheetrock; a leftover mark from a previous interview, one where tensions had run high and fists had flown. Won’t be like that this time. Detective Brett Mahoney sighed to himself as he watched her take a deep breath, the slight rise of her chest as her lungs expanded and the subsequent shuddering deflation as she exhaled had been the only movement she’d made since she’d been shown into the room, a cup of coffee placed on the table in front of her. It sat there, untouched, the creamer and sugar packets unopened, nothing added to the dark, bitter liquid. She’s not here to put up a fight. 

 Mahoney tapped the manila folder in his hand twice against his thigh before turning to his partner. “Let me do the talking, got it Buchard?” 

 The second detective nodded solemnly, understanding that he was only there as a matter of protocol. “Yeah, got it,” Buchard responded. 

 Brett returned his gaze to the woman in the interview room, a deep frown cutting into his features as he sighed again. Last loose end. He’d been working on the Castle case, which had been looped in with this mess, and now, finally, the ends were being tied off, the frayed edges cut. “Alright then,” he took another breath, still in slight disbelief that it would all be over soon. Alright, here we go. 

 He gripped the doorknob, knuckles straining at his skin as he turned it and pushed the door open, Buchard following him into the small room. The woman remained still, not even turning to face the two men as the door clicked shut behind them. Mahoney cleared his throat, suddenly dry and harsh now that he actually had to speak to her. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Miss-” 

 “This is about Billy Russo, isn’t it, Detective?” She looked up at him then, sad eyes leaving that fist shaped hole in the wall to lock with his. Mahoney got the feeling that almost everything in this woman’s life for the last year or so had been about Billy Russo. He got the feeling that she was as ready as he was to turn the page and move on. Will we be able to? It wasn’t the first time he’d wondered if someone would be able to cope with the aftermath of one of his cases. But it was the first time he’d wondered about it for himself. This one was… rough. Apart from the grief that dulled the light in her eyes, she showed no other emotion, not even contempt for the man she’d been called in to discuss. 

 Brett nodded as he moved to take the seat opposite the woman and her untouched black coffee, Buchard silently following suit. “Yes,” he answered her question. “I’m sure you’ve heard that-” 

 Her palms came up to lay flat on the table, Mahoney’s eye immediately drawn to the ring the woman wore on her left hand, and the bracelet, engraved with a name, that she wore on the right. “I heard that he escaped the hospital, yes. And I heard that he was being considered armed and dangerous.” She looked at him, unblinking. “Is that right?” 

 Mahoney felt his partner’s eyes shift sideways onto him as he blinked back at the woman’s question. Billy Russo was probably the most dangerous man Detective Mahoney had ever come across, armed or not. It’s either him or Frank...well, was. So the fact that Billy’s escape wasn’t causing her to have more of a reaction raised a flag for him. “That’s right,” he said. “He murdered his therapist, and then killed four more people. I’d say that’s pretty dangerous, wouldn’t you?” His eyebrows rose as he posed the question, waiting for her response. 

 She sighed. “Look, detective, I know that can’t be the reason that you called me down here.” Her eyes flicked back to that small dent, refocusing before they returned to his. “To discuss whether or not Billy Russo is a dangerous man? He’s an elite Special Forces Marine operative. Of course he’s a dangerous man.” She shrugged, her lips turning down as she shook her head. “But that’s not all he is. I know him, know what he’s like, and if you’re looking for some kind of-” 

 “We’re not looking for anything, ma’am,” Brett calmly interrupted her. “We… we found him.” She sucked in a breath and stared at him, absently pulling at the links in her bracelet, rubbing over the engraved piece. He was able to see the flat piece of metal once she’d run her fingers over it, and it made his stomach drop to see your name there. Goddamn. “Ma’am?” She swallowed, mouth falling open. “Can you tell me how your sister knew Billy?”  

 ..  .. ..  ..  ..  ..

 His hand shook as he placed it on the cool stone, a forceful exhale leaving his lungs as he made contact. Knees buckling, he traced a finger through the deep v-cut grooves of the engraved letters, vision too blurry to read the inscription clearly. Dropping to the ground, another forceful burst of air escaped him in the form of a sob. He pressed his forehead against the granite, still gripping the curved top before flattening both palms on the smooth face. “I promised I’d … come...back to you.” He struggled to choke the words out, chest shaking with the effort to breathe let alone speak. Rolling his forehead to the side, he rested his cheek against the surface, skin absorbing the chill. I’m here. 

 In the moments between his phone call with Frank and their final encounter in the now smoldering warehouse, Billy had sifted through the remaining contents of the folder he’d left the hospital with. Most of it was worthless- session notes in Dr. Dumont’s obsessively neat handwriting, a list of charges that Homeland was trying to hit him with, medical documents detailing his post-op recovery. He’d thrown it all in a pile that would become nothing but ash, engulfed in flames and erased. None of it matters. The only items that Billy had seen fit to save had been the pictures of the two of you, which he’d already been carrying in his pocket, and one sheet of paper, which he held in his trembling hands. It was an address, and he’d read it over and over, finding every crack and crevice in his memory and jamming that information into them. Gotta get back to her. 

 He’d dragged himself out of the burning building in a final act of defiance, refusing to let himself slip away in that place, refusing to break his promise to you. Not when I’m so close. The walk had been mercifully short, and he was grateful for the cover of darkness as he pushed through. He knew that if he were to be seen, covered in blood and ash and fighting for every ragged breath, that he’d be stopped before he could finish his mission. But once again, for the last time, Billy Russo disappeared into the night, stealthily seeking out a place where he could rest. With every stumbling step forward and each impossible beat of his heart, he repeated your name and felt you calling back. 

 By the time he’d made it to the small parcel of land dotted with headstones and encircled in a pointed black wrought iron fence, his vision was little more than shapes and blurs, his breathing rattled in his lungs, and he’d fallen twice, adding a few more scrapes and bruises to his battered body. His feet brought him to the numbered plot that he’d read from that sheet of paper in Krista’s file as though they knew the way through habit- as though this wasn’t the first and only time he’d ever been where he was now. He felt what little strength he had left leave him in a rush as his body finally relaxed, sitting on the hard ground and leaning all his weight against the stone. A sob broke free from his heart as his hand fell away from the stone. He knew he’d only be able to do this once, knew that this wasn’t something he’d be capable of repeating even if it were possible to do so, the clawing feeling in his heart completely eclipsing every ounce of pain, every shred of damage he’d endured. Your name fell from his lips in a gasp, and he was glad that he’d waited until now, glad that this was where he’d be when it happened, that he wouldn’t be alone.

 A cool breeze swept across the cemetery then, blowing leaves and blossoms from the branches of a nearby cherry tree through the air, chilling and drying the tears on his cheeks. He opened his eyes as a few petals fell into his lap, but the soft pink flowers didn’t register. He focused instead on a shimmering light, just like he’d seen in his dreams about you. It can’t be… 

 He choked out your name, eyes wide in disbelief as you appeared before him, the blue of your dress and the scarlet hue of your lips the only vivid colors he could see as the rest of the world faded around you. He tried to reach for you, but couldn’t make his limbs move, too broken, too weak, too damaged to do his bidding any longer. Desperate to touch you, hold you before he closed his eyes, he looked up at you and sobbed two words, “I’m sorry…” 

 Dropping to his side, you said his name, clear and calm, all of the pain and fear that was present the last time he’d heard your voice gone now. “It’s okay,” you said as you sank down beside him, arms slipping around his shoulders to pull him closer. I thought I’d never…  He felt your lips, warm and soft as they dropped to the corner of his eye. I thought I’d never have this again... “It’s okay now.”  He let his eyes fall closed, let himself finally let go of the fight that had been raging inside of him all of his life. A weight lifted from his chest and he leaned into you, arms winding around your body as his breathing evened out. “It’s okay Billy, you’re home.”  

 ..  .. ..  ..  ..  ..  

 “She...she, my sister,” The woman spoke your name, her voice catching as she did. “She loved Billy.” A tear slipped silently down her cheek as a mournful smile played with her lips. “She loved him.” She nodded. “I knew she did from the start, even before I met him, just from… from the way she’d,” she closed her eyes and tilted her head back so that when she opened them again she was looking at the ceiling. “From the way she’d talk about him, the way she’d sound when she’d tell me something… it was...she was happy with him. Happier than I’d ever seen her, and then when I met him,” some more tears pushed their way through, her voice breaking once more as she continued. “When I met him I knew he loved her, too. I just… I knew he’d do anything for her.” You can say that again. “So, like I was trying to say, detective, if you’re looking for more fuel for the fire that you’re going to roast him on, you’re asking the wrong person.” 

 In his tenure with the NYPD, Brett had seen his fair share of people he’d considered to be brainwashed; victims with Stockholm syndrome that showed far more love for their captor or attacker than was reasonable to any sane individual. He was stunned to hear it coming from your sister, though, about the man who may or may not have gotten you killed. “I’m not looking for any fuel, ma’am.” No need. Bastard roasted himself. “I just don’t understand… why are you protecting him? Even after-” 

 “Billy did not kill my sister, detective Mahoney.” She spoke louder and more clearly than she had the entire time, making sure that the tape that Buchard had started recording at the onset of the interview picked up her intent and inflection. She shook her head, a hard look changing her sad eyes. “I don’t care what you tell me, or what the record says. I don’t care what they say in court, or what the official military statement is. I know that he didn’t kill her. And no matter what else he’s done,” determination took over her face as she balled her hands into fists. “I won’t help you put her death on him. I won’t do that to what they had.” 

 Incredible. Mahoney realized that he wasn’t getting her to budge on that front. He chalked it up to grief and the way it had a tendency to alter people’s memories of those that they lost. She wants to think of her sister and Russo as an angel and a choir boy? Fine. But she still needs to know. He cleared his throat again, opening the file that he’d brought into the room with him to pull out a single photo. Jesus, he glanced down at it before closing the folder, and for the first time since he got the call that they’d found Russo, he saw the kind of connection that the woman was trying to tell him that the man had with her sister. To do that… drag yourself there in that shape… goddamn. He winced. Maybe she’s right. He blew out a heavy breath. “Ma’am, I’m not looking to change your mind about anything.” He suddenly felt exhausted. The way she must feel. “I’m,” he shook his head before locking eyes with her. “I called you here today for closure.” For you and for me. He looked down at the picture again. And for them. Her eyebrows came together and her lips twitched and Brett could see that she already knew what he was about to say next. “I called you here today to tell you that we found Billy Russo at your sister’s grave.” He watched as her eyes blinked closed, her throat working to swallow the lump of emotions his closure had brought up. “He’s-” 

 “He’s dead.” She said it in an even tone, not as a question, voice barely a whisper. Eyes still closed, the lids quivered as tears slipped from beneath them. 

 “Yes ma’am,” Brett responded, trying to match her evenness. “He was found this morning,” he explained, “It appears as though he-” 

 “He wanted to be with her.” 

 Not what I was going to say but… He was going to say that it appeared as though he got into a fatal showdown with Frank Castle before dragging himself several miles to her sister’s final resting place. But that works, too. It did. No matter what he thought he knew about Billy Russo, Mahoney could clearly see that there was infinitely more that he didn’t know, couldn’t understand. She wiped at her eyes, eyeliner and mascara creating dark smudges around them as she cried. For you, for herself, for Billy. He tucked the photo away. She doesn’t need to see this. 

 “I’m glad,” she said after a beat, drawing Mahoney’s attention back up to her tear-streaked face. “Glad he got out...glad he...glad they’re together.”   

Mahoney sniffed. Goddamn. He turned to give Buchard a meaningful look, the other man reading it instantly and leaning forward to press a button on the recorder before nodding and leaving the room. Waiting until the click of the door resonated in the room, Brett reached for the woman’s hand. “Me too.”  

.

.

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@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @gollyderek @thesumofmychoices  @obscurilicious @traeumerinwitzhelden @jigsawlover10 @getlostinyourparadise @breanime @nananananananananananabatman @lexxierave @songforhema @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lysawayne @roses-in-your-country-house @ymariejp @belladonnarey @audreychaz @songtoyou @stories-you-wont-hear @luminex3 @ificouldhelpyouforget

[erineverly]

“....Happy Valentine’s Day, Erin.” A shy voice speaks up. It took every last ounce of courage that the Bailey boy could muster to come over here on Erin’s side of the classroom to hand her the paper hearts and Valentine card he colored and drew just for her. He also has a bag of heart sugar cookies he and his grandma made and flowers she also supplied him with, but he hasn’t gotten the bravery to show her those just yet as emeralds are having hard enough time looking her in the eye right now.

��                     𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 💖 / ( child verse. )

        outside, there’s an abundance of powder-like snowflakes, all dancing beneath the bashful rays of the morning sun and whispering softly as they’re being carried into the unknown on a brisk wind, dazzling and colorless albeit oh so mesmerizing. covered in a thick, white blanket, LAFAYETTE has transformed into a winter wonderland as if the weather somehow knew — this one february day is incredibly special, it’s a celebration of something beautiful … love and friendship. the atmosphere seems to be tingling with excitement as the classroom begins to fill with continuous chatter and boisterous laughter. young students bustling around, cheeks and noses ripe from the cold. they’re slowly finding their seats and merrily exchanging all kinds of stories with their friends as the metal bell hasn’t yet echoed among the hallways.

        the girl of sugary sweet smiles, whose eyes are as blue as the sky itself and faint freckles resemble the most breathtaking constellations of stars, sits perched atop her desk. a riot of dark ringlets cascading down her back and over her shoulders, sun-kissed skin aglow. she’s wearing a blue dress, embedded with tiny pink polka dots, and pink tights to match. skinny legs crossed and dangling from the edge, small feet clad in white buckle shoes that seem to be shining underneath the fluorescent lights. her curious gaze is fixated upon the world outside, silently counting the fluffy snowflakes as they continue to pile up on the windowsill. she’s daydreaming, wishing she could be dancing among them, spinning so gracefully and giggling. it’s insanely breathtaking — something so rare in california, so common here.

        however, it doesn’t take more than a shy whisper to have her attention flicking away from the landscape and toward the adorable boy, standing in front of her. she would recognize his delicate voice anywhere but it’s the meaning of his words that reverberates throughout her entire being, brining a sense of warmth and comfort to her soul. dark brows contorting briefly, sheepish smile embellishing her visage. he makes her heart flutter, as fast as the wings of a hummingbird, missing a beat or two … peachy cream skin flushing uncontrollably, the way it always does when he approaches her. the apples of her cheeks painted scarlet. “i — umm …” she stutters, doe-eyed and captured all over again ( this time by something way more exquisite — her friend’s stunning emerald irises ), refusing to look elsewhere. she can barely believe that he’s talking to her. these words sound so different, coming from someone other than her mom and siblings, and for whatever reason have her shying away.

        yesterday, she spent the entire afternoon at the mall with her mom and sister, trying to fill the cart up with delicious candy and thoughtful gifts for her family. of course, she couldn’t forget about her one and only true friend. much to venetia’s displeasure, the curly-haired girl decided to spend all of her pocket money on this bailey boy. she bought a red willow basket and put all of her favorite sweets inside — lollipops, candy bracelets, marshmallows, razzles, gummy bears, hershey’s kisses, nerds, skittles, bubble gum, cotton candy. she also got him a coloring book and stuffed animal, a lion with a mane that resembles his own flaming locks. then, she tied a satin bow around the handle. she’s been trying to walk up to him and hand him this one basket ever since her mom dropped her off but she’s way too shy and worries that he may not like it. so, it’s tucked safely inside her locker, waiting for the right moment to come.

        “happy valentine’s day, bill !” erin finally chirps, finding her voice again. her features light up all at once as rosiness reaches the tips of her ears. it’s only now that she notices his extended hand, realizing he’s brought her a very special gift. “is it for me ? you — you really didn’t have to.” squeaking out, sounding more like a toy than a human being, she takes the paper hearts and carefully places them across her lap to marvel at them. her eyes are gleaming, twinkling like stars in unspeakable delight. “i love them ! they’re so beautiful and there’s so many of them !” definitely more than she deserves. clasping her hands together and bringing them to the side of her face, erin can’t possibly hide the sheer joy that lances through her features and adorns her every move. her heart is pounding, racing within the confines of her small chest as it’s the most beautiful gesture she’s ever seen.

        “what’s this ?” she asks softly, the corners of her rosy lips curving and forming a dazzling grin. her dainty fingers eagerly reach for the slip of paper, gaze landing on the big letters — HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, ERIN. her name written in blue ( how thoughtful ! it’s her favorite color ). doodles and artistic decorations framing the sign. she can feel her heart melting, turning into a puddle as an immeasurable amount of something that she can’t even name floods her chest and makes it difficult for her to breathe. blue eyes lifting for a brief moment, finding these unique emeralds and silently thanking her friend. “did you draw it for me ? all by yourself ? it’s so … aw, billy ! it’s the most beautiful card i’ve ever seen ! it’s my favorite !” she muses enthusiastically, deciding that not even the ones from the fancy stores can compare — they don’t mean half as much. she opens it slowly, handling it with utmost delicacy, as if it was the most sacred of her possessions ( which it is ). she gasps, utterly enamored as her gaze finds the precious drawing. she’s taking everything in, admiring all the tiny details for what seems like hours. there’s a blue sky and fluffy clouds, and then there’s them … both smiling. “my best friend erin. flower for you. thank you erin for bein’ my best very friend ! i hope you get a lot of flowers,” she reads out loud without even realizing that she’s doing so. her fingertip absently traces the lines on the paper, affection pouring from her heart. “it’s us ! it’s you and i ! you even drew my dress right !” elation radiating from her smile, butterflies swarming inside her belly.

        her nose begins to tingle annoyingly and she sniffs quietly, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. she wipes them away with the back of her hand before looking up at her best friend. her best very friend. gracing the strawberry-haired boy with a pearly white grin, erin closes the card and hugs it to her chest. dainty arms wrapped around her frame, snuggling the precious gift and sheltering it from the world. “you … bill, it’s the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen. thank you. thank you so much. it’s the best valentine’s day ever.” her voice is softer now, laced with emotion. she pushes herself off the desk, feet landing beside billy’s, and pulls him into a warm embrace. squeezing her eyes shut when their bodies collide clumsily and her arms envelop his neck, she has no idea that there’s more ( that he has cookies and flowers from her ). she’s already received the most beautiful, meaningful present ever. “thank you, my best very friend ! happy valentine’s day !” when she gets back home, she’ll ask her mommy to frame this card for her. she’ll put it on her nightstand so that she can wake up and fall asleep to it every single day.

[hunnywrites]

Arcade Dreams: Chapter Eighteen

Summary: There’s a new girl working at the Palace Arcade and Hawkins’ Family Video. Billy can’t stand her, and the feeling is mutual. No matter what everyone else seems to think.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove/OFC

A/N: What’s this? A surprise, early Arcade Dreams update? I’ve been dying for y’all to read this chapter. We’re gonna move away from show canon a little, this is something I’ve been planning since I started writing this fic. This chapter has been a looong time coming, and we’re gonna get some insight to Teddi’s dad’s identity. I hope you enjoy! 

Billy and Teddi had gone out for pizza a few hours ago. Afterwards he’d been able to patch up her tires for a temporary fix until he had more time to replace them entirely. They had been on a bit of a time crunch. Neither of Teddi’s parents were home, and there was no real way of knowing when her mom (who would definitely tell her dad that a boy had been over) would turn up. 

Teddi had spent the rest of the night in her room. Her father didn’t bother her. Out of sight, out of  mind she figured. She was working on some homework when he walked into her room a few hours after he had come home from work. “Your mother and I are going out to dinner. I’m imagining you don’t have any plans tonight?” he asked. Teddi thought of her popped tires. Bastard, she thought bitterly. 

“No, sir. Just finishing up homework.” she motioned to her books. 

“Good girl. We’ll be home in a few hours.” and with that he left. Teddi stuck her tongue out at his retreating back. It was like nothing had happened between them. But come tomorrow, he wouldn’t be able to boss her around anymore or torment her. She would be out of the house and on her own. She was practically giddy at the idea. 

Eventually she gave up on her homework. She just couldn’t make herself focus. This had to be how kids felt on Christmas Eve. So excited at the thought of the presents they’d get on Christmas morning that they couldn’t sit still. So she plopped down on the couch with some popcorn and settled in for some channel surfing. It wasn’t something she got to do very often. 

Teddi had settled on the Golden Girls when the phone rang. She nearly let it ring. It wasn’t like anyone was calling for her. But then if it was someone from her dad’s work and she didn’t take a message she knew she wouldn’t hear the end of it. So she got up from the couch with a heavy sigh and shuffled over to the kitchen. 

“Hello?”

“...Teddi?” it was Max. She was speaking quietly, like she was hiding from someone. It was too late for her to be calling just to chat. Teddi’s gut immediately told her something was wrong.

“Max? Is everything okay?” there was a long pause on the other end and Teddi could feel her palms growing clammy. 

“We can’t find Billy.” was all she said. 

Teddi’s heart was hammering in her chest. Everything had been fine earlier. What the hell could have happened between him leaving her to go back home? “Wh-what do you mean you can’t find him? What happened?” 

“He came home a few hours ago and he got in a huge fight with Neil. He stormed off and he hasn’t come home or called or anything...it was bad, Teddi. Do you have any idea where he might be? I mean, you’re his best friend. I’m starting to freak out.” Teddi almost couldn’t hear Max. All of the images of what Neil might have done to his son were running through her mind at a mile a minute. She almost felt sick.

“Um...I think I might have an idea,” she said finally, swallowing thickly. “I’ll go find him, okay? Just try and get some sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow once everything’s calmed down a little.” they both hung up and Teddi hurried to her room to grab her boots and puffy jacket. She knew there was a good chance that her tires might pop on her way to Billy, but did she really have any other choice? She definitely couldn’t walk out in the snow. 

She sped through the streets, praying that her patched tires would survive the drive and that she wouldn’t get pulled over by the cops. Everything in town was closed. There was only one place in Teddi’s mind that Billy could be. The Lake. It was their spot. Well, technically not their spot. They just coincidentally shared it. Teddi shook her head. That part didn’t matter right now. 

When she spotted the Camaro parked out at the water’s edge she let out a loud sigh of relief. She parked her van and hopped out, hurrying over to Billy’s car. She could barely make him out in the dark. The only light coming inside was coming from the end of his lit cigarette. The door was unlocked. She slid in next to him. Neither of them said anything for awhile. 

“...Max called me,” she finally said. “She’s really worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” Billy spat.

She wasn’t going to let him off that easy this time. He wasn’t going to scare her away. “What happened, Billy? ...Did he hurt you?” he didn’t say anything. He simply blew out a cloud of smoke. “...Can I see?”

There was another long pause. Billy sniffed and angrily pushed on the light above them. Teddi’s hand slowly covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle the gasp she wanted to let out. Billy’s left eye was swollen shut. His eyebrow had a cut in it that was deep enough for Teddi to know it would scar. It had stopped bleeding at least, but the blood had run down over his eye and down the left side of his face. There was also a nasty split in the center of his lip. Teddi was surprised he was smoking at all. The boy in front of her was almost unrecognizable. “Billy…” she said softly.

“I was in my room,” he said finally. “It was after I came back from your place. Everything was fine, you know? Susan was making dinner and Max and Neil were watching tv,” he swallowed loudly, flicking his cigarette out the window. His fingers gripped tightly at the steering wheel. “All of the sudden he starts getting on Max’s case about something. I don’t know what. But he wouldn’t stop. And she was arguing back. Sometimes she doesn’t know when to quit with him. But they just kept getting louder, so I stood out in the hall just in case...he just started screaming at her. And I’ve never seen her scared like that. Max isn’t scared of shit, y’know? But he just kept yelling and I could just feel that he was gonna hurt her if I didn’t stop him,” he trailed off, but Teddi didn’t need for him to finish. The shape he was in told her everything she needed to know. 

“I’m not fucking doing this anymore, Teddi. I can’t. Sometimes I catch myself imagining something horrible happening to him. Doing something horrible. And I never feel bad, you know? He deserves it. He’s the reason my mom left. He’s the reason she didn’t take me with her. He’s not my fucking father. Sometimes I think he’s barely even human.” 

Teddi’s heart ached when she saw his eyes welling up with tears. She took one of his hands in her own, her thumb running gently over his bruising knuckles. “I think...I think you should come with me. To the apartment.” she said.

Billy let out a loud sigh. “I can’t. Max-”

Teddi shook her head. “Billy, we need to get out. I know that you’re worried about Max. I’m worried about her too. But if we leave, if we get that apartment...it can be like a safe place for her to go. Whenever she needs it, you know? Until we can figure out how to get her out of that house,” she reached up and touched his face, her fingers ghosting gently over his bruised cheek. Her heart ached again when he leaned into her touch. “You can’t go back there,” after what felt like forever Billy finally nodded. “Come on. I have a first aid kit in my van. We can spend the night here, I’ll call Max in the morning and we’ll go see about the apartment, okay?” 

Billy followed her silently to her van. They climbed into the back, and Teddi pulled out the first aid kit that she kept under the driver’s seat. “Sorry, usually it’s just me using this so I kinda only have girly band-aids…” she mumbled, wincing and apologizing as Billy hissed at the feeling of the alcohol being dabbed at his cuts.

“A pink band-aid’s the least of my worries right now, Larsson.” he was trying to smile, trying to crack a joke with her. Teddi let out a soft laugh. 

“You know…” she said, gently blowing on the cut on his eyebrow before applying the band-aid. “Max said that I was your best friend…” she said with a smile.

Billy shifted uncomfortably. “What am I? A twelve year old girl?” he asked. 

Teddi only shrugged. “...You’re my best friend.” she confessed.

Billy scoffed. “Right.”

“I’m serious. I mean...me and Steve are pretty good friends, but you know way more about me than he does. You know stuff about me that he probably won’t ever know, you know? And like...you’re the first person I want to talk to when something happens. Good or bad. I don’t know...you just are.” she awkwardly shrugged again.

There was another long pause as Teddi finished cleaning Billy’s face. “...Are we gonna make matching bracelets?” he asked. 

“I know you’re being sarcastic, but don’t think for a second that I wouldn’t do that.” 

Billy let out a short laugh. “...Thanks for this, Teddi.”

“Don’t mention it. You’d do the same thing for me.” he would. Of course he would. 

Teddi pulled out her sleeping bag and unzipped it completely before kicking off her boots. “I think we both definitely need some sleep.” 

Billy kicked off his boots as well and slid under the sleeping bag with her. They laid next to each other, both staring up at the disco ball hanging above them. Teddi tentatively reached out, her hand finding Billy’s. He linked his fingers with hers. “...You sleep in here a lot?” he asked finally.

“I have a few times,” Teddi confessed. “Back in New York.”

“...What about your parents? Aren’t they gonna be pissed when you don’t come home?” 

“Who cares? We don’t have to worry about that sort of stuff anymore, right?”

It was a hard thought to wrap their minds around. This was it. No more answering to Greg or Neil. No more unfair rules or punishments. They would be out on their own. Together. 

---

The next morning the pair drove to the apartment building in the Camaro. It was obvious that the building used to be a motel. There was a gated pool out in front, with two vending machines nearby. There was what looked to be a working ice machine that sat just outside of the front office. If the old man running the place could tell that Billy and Teddi were obviously teenagers, he didn’t show it. Billy flashed a fake ID that said he was 23 and that had been enough for him. 

He showed them an apartment on the second floor. There wasn’t an elevator. Teddi was pretty sure it had been two adjoining rooms that they had turned into one larger apartment. There was a tiny living room with a counter that would be their kitchen. Two bedrooms sandwiched a very tiny bathroom between them. It wasn’t the worst thing. The apartment had gotten a fresh coat of paint and some tacky, flowery wallpaper. And it wasn’t like they were used to anything fancy. 

Between their three jobs they would definitely be able to handle the rent. It was close enough to Hawkins that they’d be able to make it to school and work without a problem. And what was most important; it was theirs. 

Teddi couldn’t control her smile as they drove back into town. Her cheeks were starting to hurt. Her eyes were stinging from the threat of tears. “...Is this really happening?” she asked. 

Billy nodded, a smile of his own spreading across his lips. “It’s really happening.” 

They both went quiet as Billy turned onto Cherry road. The Camaro came to a stop outside of the Hargrove’s house, the two of them looking up at the tiny house while holding their breaths. This was really it.

The most important thing would be getting Billy’s things before Neil came home. Or at least as much as they could. Max was outside skateboarding in the street. She hugged Billy tightly when she saw him. He awkwardly patted his step sister on the back. He’d never show it or admit it, but Teddi knew he appreciated the fact that Max cared about him. 

Susan was hovering awkwardly in the living room. She was asking Billy if he was alright and telling him that she had been worried about him when he never came home. Teddi believed her. Teddi believed that Susan loved Max and cared about Billy. She knew that Susan wasn’t the same as her own mother. But it didn’t make her like Susan any. She still sat back and let Neil rule his household with an iron fist. 

Teddi and Billy went to his room, Max and Susan following close behind them. Susan was asking a million questions and Billy ignored each of them. He went for his stereo first. He yanked the power cord free from the wall, turning and handing it over to Teddi. “Billy, please. Don’t you think this is an overreaction? I’m sure you and your father can work things out-” Susan pleased. 

“An overreaction?” Billy let out a dry laugh. “He’s your problem now, Susan. You don’t have to pretend to feel sorry for me and look the other way anymore,” he picked up a milk crate full of his records. “Maybe this is best for both of us, huh? You’ll finally see what a goddamn monster he is when it’s pointed in your direction.” 

That was enough to keep Susan out of their way. She sat on the couch, fidgeting anxiously as she watched Billy, Teddi and Max march back and forth between the Camaro and Billy’s room. His music had been the most important thing. Once his stereo, record player, cassettes and records were all safely in the back seat Billy grabbed a few trash bags and started filling it with his clothes. 

“...Where are you going?” Max finally asked. She and Teddi were both carefully taking Billy’s things from his closet, folding them before putting them in the large black bags. Billy was grabbing fists full of his clothes out of his drawers, angrily shoving them in the trash bags. 

“We got an apartment outside of town.” he muttered. 

Max looked between the both of them. “Together?” she asked. Max had never really understood why Teddi and Billy liked each other so much. She knew that they didn’t really have much in common aside from her and working at the pool. Max knew that Billy liked Teddi, and she knew that Teddi liked Billy. She and El had always thought it was obvious, even if they argued all of the time. But they assumed it was just because they were dumb teenagers that found each other attractive. Now suddenly, seeing Billy finally at his breaking point, and Teddi with a bruise that covered her left eye and cheek, she realized that they had more in common than she had ever imagined. 

Beneath the surface Billy and Teddi were two very lonely people. And now they had finally found someone to pull each other out of that loneliness. 

Teddi nodded, smiling a little. “Together. And Max, you’re allowed to come over whenever you want, okay? It’s small, but there’s a pullout couch with your name on it. You can even have sleepovers with El. Whatever you want. Just promise me that he ever makes you feel unsafe again you call me and I’ll come and get you, alright?”

Max looked over at Billy. He nodded, so slightly that Max almost wasn’t sure she’d seen it. “...I promise.” 

“I’ll pick you up from school tomorrow and show you the place, alright? C’mon, Ted. We gotta go. I’ll come back for the rest,” Teddi noticed Billy pulling a small wooden box out of his top drawer. It was about the size of his hand. It was a sandy color with something etched into the lid. He quickly shoved it into the pocket inside his jacket, like Teddi and Max weren’t supposed to see it. “...You gonna be okay, Max?” he asked. 

“I’m fine. Mom says I’m allowed to sleep over at El’s since Neil’s being an asshole….I’m sorry, Billy. That he went off on you like that. It was my fault. He wanted me to change the channel and I kept arguing with him…”

Billy placed a hand on his step sister’s shoulder, leaning down to meet her eyes. “Don’t ever apologize for him, got it? If it wasn’t that it would’ve been something else. You remember what I told you back home? At Captain Spauldings?” Max’s shoulders straightened a little as she nodded. Teddi couldn’t help but wonder what their secret was. “You call us if you need us, okay? We’ll be there.” Billy awkwardly ruffled the top of Max’s head before heading back to the Camaro. He didn’t bother to look in Susan’s direction as he passed.

He and Teddi finished loading his things into the trunk and got in. Max was on the porch, waving as they drove off. Teddi let out a shaky breath. She looked over at Billy, who was drumming his fingers against the steering wheel even though the radio was off. He looked...calm. This wasn’t a Billy she saw very often. There was a hint of a smile on his lips. He looked like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. 

This all felt like a dream. To be in Billy’s Camaro, the two of them finally about to escape the nightmare that was their home lives. It all felt almost too good to be true. Like at any second something horrible would happen, or she would wake up and realize that none of this was even real. Billy bumped his elbow against Teddi’s, bringing her back to the real world. “Hey,” he said lowly. “You okay?”

He fished his pack of cigarettes out of his jacket and held it out to Teddi. She eyed them for a moment before taking a smoke, clamping it between her lips. “I’m just nervous,” she muttered as Billy lit the cigarette for her. Teddi took a long drag, her eyes falling shut and her head falling back against her seat. “My dad’ll be home soon…” 

“Don’t worry about him. You just worry about getting your stuff.” they both knew that that would be easier said than done. Billy would be somewhat of a safety net for her. Her dad probably wouldn’t do or say much of anything if there was someone around to see him in action. He had too much to lose. But he had been a little unpredictable lately, and Teddi was worried that Billy might have to take the brunt of what was about to come. 

While Billy had been to Teddi’s once before, this was the first time he had ever seen Teddi’s mother. Teddi looked a lot like her. He didn’t understand how Bonnie could look at her daughter, who was the spitting image of her, and feel absolutely nothing for her. Billy hated her. She was sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels on TV when they walked in. When Teddi and Billy walked into her field of vision, she finally looked over at them with a bored expression. 

“And who’s this?” Bonnie asked, looking Billy up and down. If she felt any sort of way about him, she didn’t show it. It was like she wasn’t a real person. Like she was one of those mind control victims in those sci fi movies Max liked to watch. Billy briefly wondered if at one point Bonnie had been more like Teddi. Energetic and friendly. Maybe Greg had succeeded in beating her into submission, like Neil had tried with Billy’s mom. Now he had the perfect stepford wife that was loyal only to him. Even at the expense of his own daughter. 

“None of your business,” there was a confidence behind Teddi’s voice that Billy was a little surprised to hear. This wasn’t the same Teddi that had been fidgeting nervously in the Camaro just minutes before. “I’m leaving.” she announced before heading down the hall. He wasn’t surprised that Bonnie didn’t follow after them like Susan had. 

Billy followed Teddi to her room. He’d never seen it before. It was smaller than his room. There was only a tiny desk, a nightstand and Teddi’s bed packed tightly inside. Teddi opened her closet door, reaching in and pulling out a stack of flattened cardboard boxes. He wondered how many times she had pulled them out before, trying to work up the courage to pack before changing her mind. 

They were silent as they started to pack up her things. Teddi made quick work of emptying out her closet before standing up on her bed to peel the little glow in the dark stars off of her ceiling. Billy went over to her desk. There was a Carrie poster taped to the wall next to a tiny bulletin board. There were about a dozen different movie ticket stubs tacked to it. A grainy polaroid of the statue of liberty next to a photo of Teddi standing on a lake dock. She was in a bright blue bikini with white, star shaped sunglasses and she had her arm around a girl with a head of pink, unruly curls. Teddi looked happy. Genuinely happy. It was a gross contrast from the Teddi that was in front of him now. He carefully picked each of the things she had tacked up to the board and tucked them into a box along with the other things on her desk. 

“Your mother tells me you’re leaving.” Billy jumped a little at the sound of Greg Larsson’s voice. Teddi’s dad was a big guy. Easily about 6’4. He took up the entire doorway. His hair was shaved close on the sides and longer on top. Like at one point he’d been a jarhead and hadn’t been able to let it go. He looked like the poster boy for some sort of weird super soldier experiment gone wrong. Billy’s hands clenched into fists. It wasn’t like him and Neil. Neil was the same size as Billy. If Billy wanted to fight back he could. Greg was almost three times Teddi’s size. What kind of pathetic asshole picked on someone that was so helpless to defend themselves? You about two months ago? He reminded himself. His fists clenched tighter. 

Teddi turned to look at her father with a look of disgust before returning to her packing. “What do you care?” 

“Theodora...is this about the disagreement we had the other day?” he asked, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. 

Teddi laughed. “Disagreement? You mean when you called me a whore and almost fractured my skull?” she asked, pointing to the large bruise on her cheek. Billy knew that if he hadn’t been there she probably wouldn’t have said that to her father. He didn’t mind that him being there was an extra boost of courage. He was proud of her. “What do you even care if I leave? You don’t care about me. You and mom have never cared about me. So let me go and you can just pretend that I never existed like you’ve always wanted.” her voice cracked a little as she spoke, but she didn’t cry.

Billy wondered what might have happened if he hadn’t been there. If he hadn’t inched his way over between Teddi and Greg in case he decided to do something bold. He was thinking about it. Billy knew that he was. His sharp jaw clenched and unclenched. His hand was twitching as if he was trying to keep himself for lashing out at her. Greg watched his daughter with a cold expression. Like if he could kill her right then and there with a look, he would. 

“...If you leave, you are no longer welcome in this home. You’re not going to come crying to me when he gets tired of you and moves on to the next girl. You’re no longer my daughter.” 

Billy didn’t see that as much of a threat. Greg wasn’t Teddi’s father. He’d explained it to Max back in California when she had finally seen Neil for what he really was. Billy and Teddi could call Neil and Greg their fathers all they wanted. But men, and Billy used that term lightly, like Neil and Greg couldn’t be fathers to anyone. They were monsters. Monsters that were keeping Billy and Teddi hostage for their own sick enjoyment.

Teddi laughed again. Her eyes were shiny with the threat of tears. She picked up the box that sat at her feet, walking up to Greg with her head held high. “Good.” 

---

Billy and Teddi were both sitting on their new couch in their new apartment. They were both silent, staring at their reflection in the blank TV screen in front of them. Teddi had cried in the car after they left her parents’ house. She cried the entire drive to the apartment. Billy had reached over, putting his arm around her and pulling her towards him. Teddi cried into his shoulder, her tears soaking into his denim jacket. Neither of them said anything until Billy pulled into the parking lot of their apartment building.

Teddi pulled away from him, wiping her eyes roughly. Her bottom lip trembled, like she could start crying at any given second. She looked over at him, her cheeks still slick with tears. “...Thank you.” she finally said. 

He didn’t really know what she was thanking him for. Leaving with her. Helping her get her things. Letting her cry on his shoulder. It didn’t really matter to him. The corner of his mouth twitched up into a grin. “What are friends for, right?” 

Teddi let out a soft laugh. She bit down on her bottom lip as the two looked at each other. Billy could feel his heart beating harshly in his chest. Teddi looked beautiful. Otherworldly in the red light that was shining down onto the Camaro from the building’s neon sign. She sniffed softly, shifting nervously in her seat before her hand gently ghosted his bruised cheek, just like she had the night before. Billy didn’t move as she bit her lip again, leaning forward and kissing him so softly he was almost scared he had imagined it. She pulled away from him, watching him and waiting to see if what she had done was okay. 

Billy wrapped his arms around Teddi’s waist, pulling her back to him. He kissed her. Teddi let out a surprised sound, her hands gripping onto his shoulders. Teddi had wondered what this moment would be like. What it might be like to kiss Billy. None of it really matched up to the actual thing. Everything about him was...strong. His arms wrapped around her, the feel of his chest as her hands slid under his jacket. His lips. Everything about Billy Hargrove made Teddi feel safe. She never wanted this to end. She would be content staying there in Billy’s Camaro, kissing him and letting him hold her until the world ended. 

“If that’s how you say thank you I should’ve started being nicer a long time ago.” Billy smirked. His arms were still wrapped around her middle, and Teddi was gripping onto his shirt beneath his jacket. 

Teddi laughed a little and rolled her eyes. “Funny,” her hand reached up, her thumb stroking his jaw gently. “...We should probably get inside.” she sighed. 

They brought the things they’d packed up the stairs and inside their new home. Now they were on the couch, their hands just barely touching. “...We should skip school tomorrow. Celebrate our new freedom.” he finally said. 

“Celebrate our new freedom by being irresponsible?” she asked with a smile. 

“It’s one day, Larsson. Come on. Let’s do something fun.” 

Teddi eyed him carefully, trying to hide a smile as her cheeks blushed. “...You better be real careful with whatever you’re about to suggest, Hargrove.” she warned. 

Billy smirked. “Relax. I meant like going to the movies or something. What about that Terminator movie? Freddy said it was pretty badass.”

Teddi made a face. “I don’t know...I’m not super crazy about that Schwarzenegger guy. He’s always reminded me too much of my dad. What about Starman?” 

Billy blinked. “...What’s that?”

“It’s the one with Jeff Bridges who’s an alien pretending to be a human and he and he takes Marion from Indiana Jones with him to try and get back to space?” she explained, as if he were crazy for not knowing. Billy only stared at her. “It’s John Carpenter!” 

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” 

“Halloween? The Thing? Escape From New York? He’s like the best director ever.” 

Billy rolled his eyes and held his hands up. “....Whatever, Larsson. We’ll go see Spaceman.”

 “Starman.” 

“Whatever.” there was a different energy as they got back in the Camaro. They were both smiling, almost giddy. Teddi flipped through the collection of tapes Billy kept in the glove compartment. She settled on Journey, popping the tape into the deck. Billy’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel along to the beat. 

Their eyes met, the two of them sharing a smile. Billy propped his elbow up on the center console, holding out his middle finger to her. Teddi laughed, raising an eyebrow. “What is this, a Billy Hargrove pinky promise? What are we, five?” 

Billy smirked over at her. “Says the girl that wanted to make friendship bracelets,” he joked. Teddi let out a chuckle and linked her finger with his. His ring was cold against her skin. “It’s you and me now, Larsson. We’re in this together. You ready?” 

She was. Of course she was. They were quite the pair. Two misfits that felt like they didn’t belong anywhere. Battered and bruised. But they had finally found a home. With each other.  Teddi smiled as Billy brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her bruised knuckles. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

Red things, gold things, black things... Grief, love, and hunger

The protagonists of 15x04 are colors. The episode has a pretty limited color palette: go and quickly browse the episode--most things are red, white, green, and blue, plus gray and black, often juxtaposed in ways that make them stand out.

Red is the protagonist of the episode. (Interestingly if we look at it through the alchemy lens, isn’t it @drsilverfish​?) The episode starts literally tinted with red (but also metaphorically--it’s a carnage). Sam is grieving Rowena, the “Red” whose red blood Sam’s own hand spilled. In his nightmare, everything is colored in red, although Sam does not know that his subconscious and Rowena have little to do with the dream, and the wound and God everything to do with it. Sam probably thought that his subconscious was tinted red by the blood he’s had to spill, by the grief, by the guilt, by the shame that he’s just piled on himself over the years and now just weight over him. He does not feel free, he says--he just feels all the “red” that’s been spilled over the years around him weighting on his shoulders.

Red is the color of Beaverdale High School and the cheerleaders’ uniforms, and if you watch the scenes set outside and inside the school, you notice a lot of red, including the vice principal’s shirt, backpacks, bikes, and pretty much everything inside, including most of the shrine to the dead girl. Curiously, Dean wears a red tie, Sam wears no red as a fed, but his plaid shirt at the Whitmans’ house is red, while Dean doesn’t wear red any longer (we’ll talk about the changes in clothing later). The car Becky’s family travels with is red, and so is Becky’s shirt, the little pendant she wears, her son’s jacket, and her husband’s plaid shirt is also reddish. The first we see of inside Becky’s house has a lot of red: the first shot is of the gas station with the red design, then the figuring Chuck is holding is red. The Whitmans’ house contains a lot of red, and red of course is the blood harvested to feed the vampire member of the family. In the car scene at the end, they’re mostly bathed in red light.

Gold isn’t seen as much, but it’s mentioned. Veronica says that Suzie was “pure gold”, as she quotes Robert Frost’s line “nothing gold can stay”. Golden jewelry is worn by the vice principal, by Mrs Whitman, by Veronica, and by Becky (with a reddish pendant).

If red is the protagonist, then there are green and blue, often framed as sharply contrasting with the bright red. Becky’s house is full of red but also green wallpaper and other green things; in the school, what isn’t red and white is green or blue. The flashback of Billy killing Suzie is tinted blue. In the Whitmans’ house, red is framed in contrast with green (green produce versus the blood on Mr Whitman’s hands, white red and green flowers, a painting mostly red and green...). The vice principal wears blue and red in the first scene (then changes to black and gray). Sam wears two different blue ties. Dean wears a blue denim jacket at the beginning of the episode, then a blue suit with a red tie (similarly to the vice principal). Mrs Whitman wears a lot of blue, and Billy wears blue and green at first, then sheds the green jacket. Veronica is dressed in green and red. Becky’s skirt is blue to go with her red shirt...

Now I don’t want to go moment by moment to analyze each one, but you’re welcome to go and check for specifics... I’m also having a bit of a hard time doing this because I have to disable f.lux to see the colors as they are (I didn’t see most of the blues until I did!) and I rely on f.lux a lot. (F.lux is a software that tints your screen orange-ish to help your eyes and vision, fyi.)

So I leave to someone else to go looking for the meaning of green and blue, they’re not “neutral” colors in the visual language of the show and especially of the fandom... Also, pay attention to the figurines and funko dolls in Becky’s house.

I’ll just mention the very rare pink (the kidnapped girl’s top, the flowers on Becky’s laptop), and the rare brown (Chuck’s clothes, the beaver mascot) which must be meaningful in an episode with so little colors outside of the main palette... (I don’t think it’s a coincidence Chuck is not dressed in a color from the main palette, and maybe the beaver doesn’t count because that’s just... the color a beaver is.)

Now I’ll focus on the colors I mentioned in the title. Red, color of life and blood; gold, the color of the beloved girl that’s been lost; and black.

Why black, you might say, if black is just one of the colors in the palette, not more present than green or blue? There’s in fact not much black after all; some grey clothing (various cardigans, Sam’s suit); if I were to pick the most noteworthy black objects in the episode, I’d say the Impala and its figurine in Becky’s house. But black is an important color for two reasons: Sam’s eyes flashing black in the nightmare, and Chuck’s insistent mention of the Leviathan. 

So red, gold and black. I leave to @drsilverfish to talk about the significance of these colors in alchemy, and just focus on the episode.

I am not sure if I want to suggest a one-on-one correspondence between colors and feelings/experiences that run in the episode, also because I don’t actually want to analyze the possible significance of every time a color appears in the episode and who’s wearing it or not and when. I do want to suggest a possible lens through which to look at the episode. (Again, if someone else wants to do the job, feel free...)

Black is definitely the color of “hunger”, in a literal and metaphorical sense, if we stand to the interpretative lens that Chuck himself offers us. The Leviathan are evoked by Chuck, a monster that represents hunger in multiple senses of the word; literal hunger, greed, exploitation of human’s eating habits, and of course the metaphorical “hunger” that is a pit of despair that cannot be filled (not without Cas, season 7 says).

Hunger runs through the episode. We have Dean’s compulsive eating, manifestation of a hunger that is surely more psychological than physical. We have the vampire Billy and his hunger for blood. We also have nightmare!Sam’s hunger for demon blood. Hunger is such a deep and rich theme in the show and I really don’t have the time or space to discuss it all in this post, but the episode definitely does not go lightly in the theme.

Grief and love are the other two protagonists of the episode, and they are intertwined. Veronica’s love for Suzie is intertwined with grief. The Whitmans’ love for their son gets intertwined with death. Billy literally kills his girlfriend. And of course Sam and Dean are grieving the loss of someone they loved; Sam is grieving Rowena but also all the other people he’s lost, up to Jess. Dean is grieving a different kind of loss... maybe the loss of an illusion, as shattered as his reality has come to be. (He tells Sam that now that Chuck is gone, they’re free to move on... he uses the same language as Cas, and possibly Dean sees Cas leaving him as Cas finally being free to move on from something that has kept him chained, from something intertwined with death and suffering. Maybe Dean thinks that Cas staying was part of the story, and now that the story has supposedly ended...)

Nothing gold can stay... maybe gold is the color of love, maybe red is the color of death and grief, but maybe gold is the color of grief, because who can tell where’s the line separating grief and love when love is lost?

I was planning for this post to go more in depth (yeah, I know, the title makes it sound like I have something interesting to say) but it’s 1 am and there’ll be more things to write about tomorrow, so I’ll just publish this and welcome any thoughts anyone feels like sharing!

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 26 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: So I was almost done editing this part in Tumblr earlier today and then my laptop, for some reason, decided to close the window, and of course I hadn’t saved it as a draft, so I lost everything I’d formatted! Including my many meticulous links for this chapter that has about 235453636 details! So, that was great!!! I had to start from scratch and find everything again (thank goddess for Google search history for once), and it took a really fucking long time--your encouraging comments for this part in particular would mean a lot because knowing anyone is actually reading will soften my deep frustration at spending literally my entire day on posting this chapter. I’ve said this before but this fic is primarily about two things: 1) big cosmic fucking love (emphasis on the FUCKING) and 2) CLOTHES, hence me elaborating on their outfits constantly ad nauseam, so if you’re ever wondering why I talk about their clothes so goddamn much, it’s because clothes are very erotic/important to me and they are a big part of the way I tell a story, especially this one. Kenzie manifests Telekinesis in this part. Oberon and Titania are the fabled King and Queen of the Fae, and the lines Duncan and Kenzie speak to each other are from Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream. Kenzie sings CRYSTAL to Duncan before they sleep--that song is very important to Duckenzie, and it will probably show up again before the end. Kenzie’s outfit in this part/part of the next: her wrap crop top, her cut-off shorts, her black bikini, her Vans. Other stuff she packs: the rust-colored mini dress, the pink rose mini-dress, the white mini-dress, the white crop top, the denim shortalls, her Timberland boots, her boot sandals, the black dress with the buckle, the gray cardigan, the gray long-sleeved top, the long linen dress with roses. I can’t find the original sunflower-colored maxi dress I based hers on now; it was sort of like this but with short sleeves. Duncan’s outfit in this part: his button-down, his jersey shorts, his Suede Pumas. Other stuff he packs: the navy flannel, the other button-down, the Nike club hoodie, the zip-up hoodie, chino shorts, tee shirts, relaxed chinos, Nike hiking boots, fitted chinos, the feather shirt Kenzie likes, his black swim trunks. My Duncan doesn’t wear jeans, and Kenzie rarely wears pants; that’s just their stylistic preferences. His suitcase, her suitcase, her moon and sun tote. The Yeti coolers look like this and apparently keep stuff cold, like, FOREVER. Here’s the stargazing book, which I have. Duncan’s gold weed pipe looks like this and was inspired by these pictures of Cody smoking a weird vape, and also was inspired by the fact that he’s apparently (sources tell me) a big stoner irl, which I love. Pullman’s The Golden Compass/Northern Lights is indeed about parallel universes, among other things. I had to make them listen to Kiiara’s Gloe, a song that definitely sounds like it’s about Duckenzie, as I mentioned before. The Blue Skies remix is this one by Maya Jane Coles. I’m the bitch who has loved WUTHERING HEIGHTS fiercely since middle school, hence me giving Kenzie that love/a good recollection of it. I love writing their little conversations so fucking much--just my moon babies, in love. The route to Deep Creek Lake really is via a road called Lakeside Trail. The luxury cabin was inspired by two different models, this one for the front, this one for the back. The gazebo looks like this, more or less. The front room looks sort of like this, but with darker wood, no TV, a bigger fireplace (something like this, with dark stone around instead of the white wood), and not as much taxidermy. The Swarovski chandelier is like this. The bed is like this, the headboard like this, the gold laurels, and Annie Swynnerton’s Cupid and Psyche, which, fuck it, I’m saying is the real thing that Annette bought at an auction at some point (now I want a print of that one too, I love it so much, especially the flower crown in Cupid’s hair). The copper bathtub will feature again soon. I looked at this photo of Billie and this one of Cody a lot while I wrote this chapter; that’s my Kenzie and my Duncan. I said this to Luna ( @misslunarayne ) yesterday--but sometimes I get so overwhelmed by how much I love what I’m creating that I legitimately feel like I’m going to pass the fuck out. ART AND LOVE ARE THE DRUG, LADIES/GENTS/NONBINARY FOLKS. As ever, your likes, reblogs, asks, comments and edits mean the world to me. Get ready for ~a lot~ of fucking in the next chapter.

And here at the end of the evening, watching the night lights of the District of Columbia scatter and disperse as Duncan drove them back to the penthouse, Kenzie was full of contentment.

It washed over her like water, like a tide; to be inside this moment with you, Duncan, is like the purest solitude. To be inside your mind as I know you’re in mine, and to feel so much peace inside that certainty. Despite the pressing chaos of the Gala, a chaos that had tried unsuccessfully to disturb them, Kenzie knew that in the future, she’d only retain the joy from this night in her memories: Lindy and Gabby in their floral dresses, tears in Lindy’s eyes, the purity of the happiness Kenzie had felt in Duncan’s arms as the photographers snapped their cameras wildly, the way Duncan had fucked her so passionately, so utterly, his voice dipping into her ear (you are the greatest pleasure I’ve ever felt, will ever feel, you’re mine and I’m infinitely blessed) his lips open on her neck, the press of the plug still inside her now, holding him inside her, the look of him leaning next to Day, his face serene, happy, and oh-so-deeply beautiful, the nostalgic joy in his gaze as he had flipped through the mythology book now safely resting on her lap. The dark beauty of him now, the dark shadow shrouding his blue gaze, glancing at her singing, the adoration in his eyes so strong it made her shiver.

“I love you so much,” he said, his tone resolute and aching, then with his mind, I love you so much, I love you, love you, love you forever angel, my angel, divine goddess his thoughts echoed against her, devolving down into blue warmth like a fading fire. “Baby, we finally get to be alone. Really alone. Oh god, I can’t wait. I might never want to come back. Would you come live in the woods with me, wild and free, Princess Kenzie?” Duncan’s gold Cartier bracelet glinted on his elegant wrist as he deftly jerked the steering wheel, his eyes glancing between her and the road, that angelic smile playing at his mouth, dizzying her. As it always will.

“I would, Fae Prince,” Kenzie drifted her fingers along the frayed edges of the mythology book, gazing up at him from the halo of her eyelashes. She felt the waves of his delight at that--the shy approval of his acceptance. The romance of this evening is ours. It exists because it exists between us. That’s all there is--this. Us. And you truly are my Prince.  “Oberon of the fairies.”

“Am I not thy lord, Titania?” Duncan grinned at her, and the blue depth of his eyes flashed darkly, and Kenzie’s breath caught. Oh sweet Goddess, you are. My body is yours and you know it is. My soul clings to yours as though it’s the lifeblood of me. Your soul is mine and the knowledge of you encircles my heart and I’m overcome in its beauty. You are my lord. You are my Hades in your shadowed majesty, my Dionysus in your wanton desire for me, if I am Titania, you are Oberon most assuredly, the moon to my sun, the sun to my moon, the sky that holds the stars of me, and my lord. Always.

“Then I must be thy lady,” Kenzie replied, reaching for his hand--Duncan grasped it with fingers hot and insistent, his thoughts bursting with warmth at her words, pulling them away a moment later as he turned the steering wheel again, onto the side-street where the high-rise was tucked off the main road, in its serene stretch of manicured lawn. The moon was silhouetted in almost the very center of the sky, not quite descending west yet. The G-Class shut off with almost no sound at all--its sleek, streamlined affect seemed almost intelligent, knowing. Kenzie looked up into the sky, gentle moonlight kissing her cheeks as she slid out of the passenger seat, brushing her hair from her shoulders--waves of it had freed themselves from Hannah’s ordered mess of roses and Kenzie watched several petals scatter on the sidewalk around her as her hand fell. She turned to Duncan, who had exited the car, coming up behind her, his hand drifting across the back of her head, down the cascade of her rosy hair. His eyes were on the petals that had fallen to the ground, then he looked at her as she turned to him, her hair still sliding through his fingers, and she could feel the ache of his mind, knew what he was thinking, saw his earnest vulnerability, felt the pounding of his heart, heard the rapid beating of her own.

I want to ask you to marry me, he was thinking. I want to ask you, Kenzie. I want to so much...

Kenzie shook her head a little, her mouth dipping open, her hand coming up to his stubbled cheek--in that hazy ring of moonlight, the stars shrouded by city lights but still almost visible above them, in that cocoon of night, and the rest of the world seemed to be utterly still but for the distant sounds of traffic far off in the distance, the slightness of the summer wind.

Not yet, Duncan. Not yet. Wait until we find out--find out whatever it is. The thing that’s coming. You feel it too. I know you do, as certainly as the dawn, as the moon in the sky right now. It’s almost here. The knowledge--the secret thing.

“Wait,” Kenzie whispered, and Duncan’s hands came down to her cheeks, and he held her there with such a delicate sweetness Kenzie felt herself immediately begin to cry. A tear drifted down from her eye to his thumb, and Duncan brushed it away, his mouth falling open in dismay. She smiled--it’s okay, baby, my sweet Prince, it’s okay. My tears are a relief to me inside your love. It moves me so much, I have to cry. “Just wait a little bit longer. Just a little longer, okay?”

Duncan was nodding, and Kenzie could see the threat of tears on him, too--he drifted his fingers against her for another moment, his face, shrouded in shadow and angelic as a painting on the roof of some holy chapel, leaning down to her, his height enveloping her, filling her with solace. The wind was drifting into his curls, and Kenzie felt utterly moved by what seemed to be on the horizon--she felt lost inside its rising call, the feeling of it suddenly swirling around them like a whirling sphere of gold, the sidewalk deserted, the night so quiet. It was as if they’d suddenly been transported to another universe, imperceptibly, in the hair’s-breadth span of a moment. Everything looked the same, but the air was different, charged with a potency that seemed alien. Because that other universe is always so close, Kenzie thought, her mind hazy with Duncan’s eyes. Isn’t it? That’s true, isn’t it, baby? That other universe, and all of them, hovering nearby.

Then the thought, imperceptible, obtuse--and the feeling--drifted away. Duncan still seemed to be lost inside her mind, in her gaze--she could feel him, rosy and desirous, falling down the curves of her body, the invisible touch of him along the golden gown she still wore, the fingers of his soul at her throat, imagining her in the throes of his passionate attentions. Kenzie shivered, then gently pulled his hand down from her cheek; Duncan dutifully gathered her train over his arm, and they walked down the pathway to the high-rise’s entrance with the moon shining on them, watchful, and its face seemed familiar again, no longer the hidden moon from a moment ago, Kenzie thought, but our moon again, though I know the other moon--those other moons--are always behind this one, aren’t they? Those other moons live beside our moon, and together they echo through time. Tonight there’s a thinness--and in that thinness, there are visible things that will vanish when daylight comes again.

It was well past midnight now, and neither Anchaly or Jerry were anywhere to be seen--a security guard sat in Anchaly’s usual seat at the front desk, and he glanced up at Duncan and Kenzie, then did a nervous double-take. Kenzie smiled at him, yep it’s us, those Instagram stars, then Duncan was pulling her with him into the elevator out of the guard’s eyesight, and she was falling against him, the book and her clutch in her arms pressing into his belly; she could see that Duncan had closed his eyes in the mirror in front of them, and his face was lined with tiredness now, the makeup there no longer able to conceal it. Lost in the feeling of you, my constant comfort, my Kenzie, and Kenzie closed her eyes too, turning her nose into his shirt and breathing deeply, her hands coming up to clutch at the lapels of his jacket, the golden tips of his collar.

“I can’t believe we can finally be alone together, baby,” she whispered. “I can’t believe it. Really alone. I’ve missed the woods so much--and we’ll be together--”

“Wait until you see it, baby,” Duncan said as they walked to the penthouse door. He was tiredly reaching for his wallet, but his hand slipped and he dropped it--Kenzie smiled, dipping down to pick it up, holding her clutch and the mythology book against her chest with her elbows, opening it, loving the feeling of the leather in her fingers (because it’s his, because it belongs to him) as she pulled his keycard out (there were at least ten other cards in it, and at least ten or twelve hundred dollar bills alongside two dozen crisp twenty dollars bills--Kenzie recognized his Black AmEx immediately amid several other American Express cards, scrunched her nose up at his license for a moment, SHEPHERD, DUNCAN MALCOLM, then the penthouse address, SEX M, HGT 5’11”, WGT 160, EYES BLU, DOB 07/06/1988, his solemn expression in it crushing her heart with affection), swiping it through the keypad beside the door. She tucked the keycard back inside the wallet and then, in a moment of abandon, lifted it to her mouth and kissed it. Duncan gave her a look of deep longing, lifting his chin back, eyes closing, biting his lip--then Kenzie reached behind her head, grasping the softness of one of the rose buds there, gently pulled at the petals--two in dark, aching red came out in her fingers, and she opened the side-nook of the wallet, slipping the petals inside.

“Just a memory of tonight,” she murmured, and slid the wallet back into his back pocket, her fingers lingering along the rise of his ass. Duncan dipped and caught her mouth inside his--he pulled the penthouse door open absently as they clung together, refusing to break apart as they stumbled inside, his hand coming down to press at the aching plug (still there, still pressing into me, aching with you now, aching with the length of my supplication to you, holding your release deep inside me). The tiredness in her seemed to dissipate now; she felt his lifting too, lifting in the cadence of his desire rising again. Kenzie noticed several shipping boxes piled by the kitchen island from the haze of his embrace, throwing the book and her clutch down on the obsidian surface, remembering the things she’d ordered for the trip a few days before, then returned to his touch, the feeling of his fingers.

“Bed. Come, baby.” Kenzie broke away from him, not even bothering to unwrap her shoes--you can do it in our bed, beloved. You will undress me. She ran to the bedroom, her train slipping from his fingers, away from him because she knew he’d follow, suddenly intoxicated with their bed’s serene black surface as it came into view--threw herself on it, watching with delight as the golden train of her dress floated out behind her, stretching off the bed in gathers that pilled along the dark wood. She turned from the position on her belly, crooking her knees as Duncan followed her into the room--he was suddenly on top of her, his much larger form enveloping her, pushing her gently down so her back was facing him, his legs on either side of her hips, his crotch pressing gently into her ass--his long fingers were instantly at the concealed zipper along her spine, pressing it down insistently. As he went lower he slid off the bed, hands coming up to begin to ease the sleeves from her arms, pulling her toward him with ease, and Kenzie turned to face him, laying on her back now as Duncan peeled the dress off her breasts. His mouth came down to one of her nipples as it came free, and Kenzie shuddered against him, against his lips, his hands working the dress down now, lips reluctantly pulling away so he could ease the dress from her hips, exposing the delicate panties he’d carefully helped her into again in that quiet powder room. Duncan had the exquisite dress Morgan had created for Kenzie in his hands now--Kenzie went to get up, but Duncan shook his head.

“Don’t, baby. Stay here.” Kenzie lay back, still wearing her golden heels and panties, her eyelids shivering, her breath gasping now in anticipation, rose petals scattered on the sheet behind her head. Duncan disappeared into the walk-in closet for a moment, then reappeared a moment later without her dress. Too beautiful a thing to discard on the floor this time, she knew, and nodded to him, loving his thoughtfulness, his mindfulness. Duncan came up to the edge of the bed, his dark and gold jacket shimmering down at her, his darkly-shadowed eyes roving from her hair scattered on the bed around her to her breasts, her nipples shivering with hardness, then he dipped his (beautiful) hands to the waistband of her panties, pulling them down as he kneeled before her, kneeled before their bed. Your altar, she heard him, and she trembled, her body feeling too hot and too cold at once inside his blue eyes. Duncan.worked at the ties at her ankles with his graceful long hands, kissing the inclines of her feet as he pulled the shoes off, carefully setting them aside. Kenzie glanced over his shoulder, watching the shape of his back, the velvety gold of his blazer, the soft fall of his hair, kneeling before her in the Mirror. My Prince kneels before me, oh, fuck, Goddess--

“Do you want me to undress?” He asked her; and his thoughts were intensely earnest, his mind interested only in her needs, making her think of evening clouds drifting in an indigo sunset. Oh Duncan, you are so beautiful inside. So fucking lovely. I feel selfish to behold this part of you, this hidden wondrous beauty of you, but I can’t help it, I want it all to myself. Beloved, exalted in my eyes. You’re so beautiful to look at, but oh, Goddess, your real beauty is the one the world cannot see, and I am moved by him, that hidden self, body and soul.

“No--” Kenzie gasped as the cool air of the room drifted against the sensitivity of the plug, the hardness of her nipples, and her arms broke out in goosebumps. She moved her thighs apart as his hands pressed insistently up the incline of her legs, felt the lips of her sex spread open for him, the stretch of her asshole around the plug, wet with the residue of his come. “I want you to suck on me, Prince, give your mouth to me with your come held inside my naked body, worship my body that belongs to you--”

“Kenzie, fuck,” he whispered, then Duncan brought his face down close to the open lips of her, laving out his tongue, wet with spit that dripped from his aching mouth, to press insistently to her clit, lingering there as she writhed inside his grasp for a moment, lifting her chin to the ceiling and moaning in a soft, prolonged stream that she knew would drive him insane with longing--then one of his hands was drifting from her thigh to her belly, from her belly to pinch insistently at her breast, twisting her nipple in a hard grip that made her gasp, then drifting up further to her neck, to where she still wore Adelaide’s braided golden ruby, and Duncan pressed his elegant, achingly lovely hand into her there, and gripped her tightly as he sucked, hard and unrelenting, at her clit. Kenzie’s hips bucked up in a keening roll that bled into a steady rhythm, the whining cries from her sent out like entreating prayers to him, and she was murmuring his name, her hands thrown back, palms open at either side of her head, knowing he wanted her to stay still, knowing he wanted to hold her under his mercy in this moment, murmuring to him to try to keep herself from coming already, fuck, not yet, I want you to give me everything, my Prince, I dream of your mouth on me always, your devotions. The pressure of the plug in her ass was sending shocks up her spine with every convulsion of her cunt under his lips and tongue, and his hand at her throat was sweet with constriction.

“Choke me, baby,” she heard herself, whimpering, “Ch-choke me and suck my clit, I’m your angel baby and I n-need you--need you--fuck me with your mouth--”

“Mmmhm,” Duncan’s mouth was buried flush against her, but Kenzie could feel the rolling vibrations of his lips humming against her, and his hand was pressing with measured strength, harder, into her neck, the feeling of his fingers so intense they seemed to burn against her. Kenzie let out a little gasp, and Duncan moved his hand up to the dip of where her jaw began at the top of her throat; with careful insistence he pressed her chin back so her eyes couldn’t see him, were forced to look towards the wall behind them, the empty wall that she’d said they should put something on--for a brief second, Kenzie contemplated this again, wildly--we really should put something on that wall, something beautiful--and then Duncan was raising his head to rest his chin for a moment on her abdomen, still forcing her head back, his other hand coming down to rub at her clit so she’d have no reprieve from his attentions.

“Kenzie, you taste like fucking heaven, baby, like the fucking nectar of heaven, like ambrosia, you taste like wine made from the apples of trees that grow in paradise, I dream about the sweet scent of your cunt now and I wake up in hunger for you, all I want is you, you bless me to let me worship you this way, princess of heaven, my flower of the universe--”

Kenzie was shivering under his hand, her hips trembling, and she tried to move back from his fingers, loathe to come yet, loathe to miss his fingers touching her with such terrible sweetness, and she was murmuring between her gasping, heard herself say “put your fingers in my mouth, baby, make me suck on you too,” and he was nodding, bringing his index and middle fingers up to her wet, shuddering bottom lip, pulling her head back down to look at him, dipping them inside her to press on her tongue for a moment before drifting up so she could close her mouth on him, his other fingers still holding her head back, still keeping her steady, prostrate, and Kenzie sucked desperately at his (those hands, for me alone, let me worship you too, baby) fingers, whimpered into the feeling of his skin, and Duncan was burying his mouth against her again, his tongue gentle now, but no less insistent, dipping against her until she keened once more, keened against his arm pressed along her body between her breasts, holding her down for him, you like keeping me here, don’t you, baby, she drifted against him, you like holding me down, making me writhe for you, my angelic love--

“Fuck, yes,” Duncan’s reply was spoken aloud, and Kenzie knew he wanted to speak his longing into her, not just press his love to her sex, but speak it into the room, fill every corner with it. “I do, baby, I fucking do, I love you all to myself this way,” and he was licking along the curve of the lips of her sex, down to the dip of skin before the plug pushed snugly inside her, “Unng, baby, fuck, you taste so good--wait till we’re in the woods, I’m gonna fuck you every hour, fuck you until we’re so exhausted we have to sleep all day, and then we’ll wake up and fuck again, I’ll worship you again and again, into the night, under the stars, all through the day until the sun is dipping low in the sky--” he was dipping his fingers in and out of the wetness of her mouth now, making her moan with the sensation of being filled so with his lips and his fingers and the plug, still sending its shockwaves through her back every time Duncan made her cunt twinge; the space between her convulsions was becoming smaller and smaller, and she was beginning to see golden bursts of need in the corners of her vision, bearing down on her--Duncan seemed to sense how close she was treading to her orgasm, and he continued to speak against her between his admonitions, dipping his tongue into the shuddering twinge of her vulva, then long and languid at her clit, then speaking the sweet, ardent poem into her, his breath so shivering-soft, brushing down onto the wetness gathering strongly between her legs, her arousal and his saliva mingling irrevocably--Duncan brought his hand away from her mouth to grasp her under both thighs, hitching her knees over his shoulders so she was lifted up utterly, into his face, his eyes closing in the throes of his ardency, shrouding them in the dark eyeshadow still on him, reminding her of some holy fresco painted dark, a pious congregant in ecstatic worship, an achingly lovely visage of a damned soul finally redeemed. I love your eyelashes, your sweet eyelids, the incline of your cheeks, your mouth, fu-fuck, your beautiful fucking mouth, Duncan, how--how are you mine--

“You’re my angel, you’re fucking heaven to me--you’re a fucking goddess, even now you’re dipped in gold, the gold is you, it’s you, only you, exalted, beloved, entire, my only--” Duncan brought his fingers down, pressing them into the plug, pulling gently at it so she cried out at the smooth pressure of the bulb against the opening of her there as he flushed his mouth onto the bud of her again, “--So fucking beautiful I never want to look away from you, Kenzie--so fucking beautiful you fill all of my senses and time means nothing against you--nothing, uhhh, fuck, Kenzie--my fucking beautiful angel, god, I fucking love your body, I want to hold it forever--my Princess, sweetest golden honey, my moonlight, come for me, come for me, come against my lips, come into me--” and he was lifting his mouth away, bringing the hand that had toyed with the plug up, raising a flat palm to give her a little testing slap along the spread lips of her sex--Kenzie whined and bucked up into the air, her knees over his shoulders, his mouth hovering near her, smiling that smile beyond the beauty of her imagining, and she was whimpering again, and now she was begging, “Fuck, baby, please, do it again, I’m so close,” and Duncan’s face went slack with adoration, a little moan escaping him too to see her beg, to hear the sweetness of it, she knew--

Then he brought his palm down more harshly, the sound of it snapping into the wetness between her legs as he slapped her clit with a concentrated, sharp pressure, and Kenzie cried out, her eyes closing with an involuntary, ragged intake of breath--the coil of her orgasm was making her thighs begin to shake uncontrollably now, and she knew Duncan could see it in her eyes, see that she was about to let go for him, and he yanked her across the black sheet to the edge of the bed, so she was intently against him, as close as he could possibly clutch her to his open mouth, bringing both hands down to her face, one grasping at her neck again, against the cool gold of the necklace, oh god, Adelaide, if you could see where your necklace is now, Kenzie thought wildly, under the hot fingers of your grandson fucking the life out of me with his tongue, his other hand dipping around the space under her ear, his thumb probing into her mouth again, dipping harshly into the crook of it, forcing her lips open to him, wanting my mouth open to him, she knew, could feel his desire like an intense bluish flood, felt his thumb move down to her bottom lip and press it open, could feel the satisfaction in him when her moan needled up.

He leaned back from her cunt just long enough to spit a rivulet of saliva down onto her clit, then he pressed his tongue there again and she was dazzled with bursts of glittering anticipation, down from her mind into her body to her thighs, and Kenzie whimpered into his fingers, a whimper that became a wailing convulsion--Duncan did not ease his mouth, rather rebounded onto her as the plug tormented at her, pressing into her as her thighs shook, the shiver moving down her legs and down through the center of her abdomen, coursing out in tendrils of white-hot pleasure from his mouth’s avid attention.

Kenzie’s chin lifted back as she came now, her voice pressing out an sobbing cry that rattled every corner of her mind--she felt Duncan’s hands press more harshly into her mouth, harder into her neck, bringing dips of darkness into her vision, could feel the shuddering of her cunt under his mouth, the reverberations of the plug, and tears were coursing down her cheeks in an instant--she was crying in earnest now, but unlike the tears from earlier tonight, prompted by the terrible hate in Bill Shepherd’s agonized eyes and her own rebounded sadness toward the people who had surrounded Duncan for so much of his life, these tears were ecstatic, astounded at the fullness she felt inside this moment with him, utterly shaken by the feeling drifting out of him in surges that felt like a kiss on every inch of her.

Duncan heard her sobs now, she knew, because he’d lifted his eyes up to her from his pressing diligence between her legs--he lifted his mouth away as she came down from the edge, and his arms were lifting her limp, spent body into him now, sliding up onto the bed as he held her so his knees were against the black sheet, sliding her naked body up to the pillow to set her head gently against it, scattering rose petals as he did from her hair now coming undone, his mouth, wet with her sex, coming to kiss along her cheek and jaw. His arms were caressing at her, up and down her waist, along the dips of her breasts and against her neck, but with aching gentleness now, and Kenzie felt like she was on fire with his touch, could barely catch her breath with her tears. She grasped at his velvet jacket, her hands trailing at the gold collar, lifting up to his hair, to his cheek with its sweet stubble, and her tears were terribly hot and their salt fell between her lips, a relief inside the depth of her love for him in that moment.

“Shhhh, baby, shhhhh--” and Duncan was hovering over her, hands coming up to her hair and her cheek, soothing over her there, his elbows crooked on either side of her body, his much larger one enveloping her with his dark velvets and silky shirt, the heavy heat of him, the overwhelming musky-sandalwood-woods scent of him, his desire and his love, the scent of her sex lingering near her cheek now from his mouth as he kissed along her skin, making her sigh and shake, drying her tears. “I love you, Kenzie, baby, I love you--” and she could feel his thoughts, knew that he could sense her relief, the depth of the calmness settling into her now, sense how good (so fucking good baby fucking fuck I love you too Duncan I love you) he had made her feel, and she could feel him smiling into her cheek, feel his joy at her joy and her peace, and she wished this moment could extend, on and on, its perfection shaking her heart.

“It is perfect, isn’t it,” he whispered against her, and she could feel the tininess of his eyelashes as his eyes closed against her, and she felt close to her tears again, had to scrunch her face so they wouldn’t begin anew, and Duncan was saying “oh, Kenzie, oh, baby, if you want to cry, it’s okay--” and she was pressing her arms around the back of his hair, pulling him down against her so she fell into the space of his arms with his head beside her on the pillow, pressed her wet cheek against his heart, tucking her arms down between them against her mouth, bringing her legs together, shivering at the sensitivity of her sex, the deep moisture there from her release and his mouth. His cheek pressed into the crown of her hair, his fingers tangling in the roses that were drifting apart in the chestnut waves scattered behind her. Kenzie sighed again--a deep, shuddering sigh, a sigh that she knew was pushing away everything from the past two days, pushing it away from him too, insisting that now, beginning now, starting now, under this moon, like the all-knowing eye of some resplendent white goddess, and away from the other, prying eyes of everyone and everything, they’d worship each other in earnest, get lost--it’s time to get lost in each other, my dearest love. The days to come belong to us and us alone.

“Wait till you see it,” he was whispering into her hair. “Fuck, baby, I’m never going to want to leave, I know it already--even imagining being with you there feels like--like a beautiful dream. We’ll light a bonfire, we’ll bring the big blanket out under the summer sky, there’s this patch a quarter of a mile from the cabin, the trees part and the sky is totally spread out, and you can see everything at night--” Kenzie felt herself calming, let herself float inside the sound of his voice--the penthouse was blessedly quiet, any sounds from the world outside hushed, 30 stories down, far away. This is the only thing I want in the world right now, she knew, just to be here with you, the memory of your mouth still lingering on me, your hands in my hair, the jasmine-cedar scent of you, the beating of your heart against me.

“There are so many goldenrods in the summer, too, and last time there were all these wild orchids--Annette and Bill had this weekend retreat with all these Congress members, god, it was awful--but--one evening I escaped from everyone and went off in the woods alone and the light was falling so sweetly on them, everything was bathed in soft gold and deep blue, and I think I hoped for you that night, Kenzie, I think I longed for you, even though I didn’t know it was you I was thinking of, I didn’t know it was you I was missing so terribly, but it was, wasn’t it? It was you all along...it’s always been you. I know that now.”

Kenzie lifted her chin up from where it had been pressed against him, and Duncan brought his mouth down onto her, and their kiss was dream-soft and so earnest from him it almost pained her, his mind aching against her--she could feel the slight weight of his cock on her leg through where the pants still constricted him, knowing he was hovering around his arousal again, but also feeling the depth of his tiredness, the sincerity of his emotion inside the memory of his loneliness. He leaned away, the blue of his eyes so bright they didn’t seem real, then he pushed himself up, hand drifting down to her hip, looking down at her, his elbow crooked so his face hovered over her.

“I’m starving, baby,” Kenzie murmured up to him, sleepiness tinging her voice, her hands drifting at his velvet arms. The pillow was so soft under her head, his fingers so soothing on her skin--her eyes closed for a moment as Kenzie surrendered to the wave of tiredness that washed over her. Your touch is home. It’s the highest of all pleasures, the most soothing thing I’ve ever felt. Your touch.

“Okay, baby, hang on--don’t fall asleep yet,” and she felt Duncan kiss her cheek, his lips drifting down to press more along her skin, two kisses, three, four--then he lifted away from her and she opened her eyes, turning to watch his velvet back retreat, his hand drifting through the back of his hair--he glanced back at her, eyes adoring, and she smiled, bringing her hands down to drift between her legs, I can still feel your mouth there, and he grinned shyly (still shy of me, I can’t believe it), disappearing through the doorway.

A moment later she heard him call to her from the kitchen, his voice amused and curious. “Baby, what’s in all these boxes?” She could hear the small sounds of him moving around there, but not their precision--she waited for a moment, still floating inside her post-orgasm, not answering. Duncan reappeared after a few more beats, having removed his shoes and blazer now, a black bowl in one hand and a Waterford glass in the other. He slid onto the bed again, holding the glass down to her. Kenzie propped herself up against the headboard, clutching it in two hands and drinking greedily. The water was wonderfully cold and clear, and it brushed some of the sleepiness from her mind. She sat up more, feeling the plug pressing into her as her ass brushed along the sheets; she shivered out a little moan, and could see the desire flit across Duncan’s gaze again. She smiled at him and leaned over to set the glass on his nightstand; he passed her the bowl now, hand dipping down to her thigh. It had another bunch of the crimson grapes they’d been eating earlier (The Youth of Bacchus, Kenzie thought, fighting the urge to run to the study to look at it right now, thrilled with knowledge that she could if she wanted to, for it hung there), a handful of raw almonds, and a long bar of very dark chocolate in six segments that looked almost black in the low bedroom light.

“Ooo, baby,” and she was squealing with delight at the chocolate, reaching for it with insistent fingers, crossing her legs under her against the sheet. She broke a piece off and lifted it up to his mouth--Duncan’s teeth snatched it out of her fingers and Kenzie couldn’t help but laugh--being with you. She leaned up to kiss him, the sweet, dark taste of the chocolate mingling in their mouths. Being with you is heaven.

“What’s in all those boxes?” Duncan asked again, reaching for some of the grapes, popping them in his mouth, then reaching up to his collar and beginning to unbutton it. He pulled the hem of the shirt out of his belt, easing it off his arms, then worked at the buckle as his eyes drifted over her nakedness--Kenzie felt shy under his gaze, wondering again if that feeling would ever fade. Caught in the eyes of this beautiful boy--truly beautiful, a face that a sculptor would die to render, Michael the Archangel, David trapped in stone, fairest Adonis. And he kneels to me. Kneels and worships ME.

“Stuff I ordered for our trip,” she replied, breaking off more chocolate, twining golden strands of hair around her finger, recalling. “Ghost stories--” she wiggled her fingers at him and he laughed, “--and some quilts and blankets for our bed--I want it to be extra cozy--and for stargazing, a fireside cooking kit--we can make tinfoil dinners, those are so fun--and, well, a bunch of clothes--” and she grinned at him, loving the way his face immediately went soft with the prospect, enthralled with the mere mention of such a thing. Baby, she thought, you get to watch me get dressed every day now, every fucking day, you care stare as much as you want.

“--including these tiny little cutoff shorts, and a little black bikini,” she added, lowering her voice to a whisper as she spoke, letting her mouth hang open at the end, her eyes teasing him.

“Fuck,” Duncan leaned in to kiss her, and as he did he bit gently at her bottom lip, sucking for a moment and then releasing her--and then he was dropping his belt on the floor to the side of the bed, bringing his legs over it to ease the pants off, then his socks, then his briefs, discarding them all in a heap, freeing his partially-hard cock. He looked over at her, reached for the chocolate in her hand, fingers drifting down her skin, then breaking another piece off and dipping it into his mouth (your lips, baby). Then he rose with a teasing glance of his own to her, and went into the bathroom--Kenzie admired his ass as he did, blushing a little into her chocolate. Round and smooth. I wanna bite it. She heard the water running, and set the remainder of the chocolate in the bowl, sliding off the bed, wincing a little at the soreness of the plug still inside her.

Kenzie stepped into the bathroom; Duncan was washing his face, and she glanced down, watching the dark makeup swirl down the drain. The Gala really is finally over. I’m so relieved, honestly. Now it feels like I can breathe again. Like we can breathe. This revelation from Annette may have actually been a blessing in disguise. Time to run away with you for awhile, my love. Duncan was patting his face dry with a towel, then he turned to her as she came up beside him, leaning on the sink. She knew he could hear her. Can you take my plug out now, please, Prince?

“I’ll take it out now. Lean down a little, baby.”

Kenzie nodded, and leaned over the basin, moving her feet apart so her thighs were spread slightly. Duncan unscrewed the top of the coconut oil on the counter and dipped his fingers into it--then he stepped behind her and eased the fingers around the jewel at her backside. Kenzie breathed in, slowly.

“Press out, baby.” Kenzie did as he said, and winced a little again, but only a little--the oil had soothed the sting of the chafing there, and the plug popped out of her a moment later. Duncan brought it over the sink and turned the hot water on over it again--Kenzie watched him rinse it with soapy, gentle hands as she pulled the pack of wet wipes from one of the drawers under the sink, easing one of them along the dip between her ass. It came away with a little blood again, but just a little--it’s worth it, honestly, because fuck, you fucked me so fucking good, baby, fucked me hard and ate me out so fucking good, fuck. He glanced over at her as he turned the faucet off, having finished washing her plug--she saw the glint in his eyes, the indication that he’d heard her thoughts, the knowledge of her lust. Duncan set the plug on the counter, and then he pulled her achingly against him, pressing his nakedness into her, lifting her up into an open-mouthed kiss. The roses were still falling from her hair around their feet--Duncan set her back down to earth and turned her gently, and then his beautiful fingers began to work the roses out of her hair, setting them gently one by one on the bathroom counter. Kenzie glanced over to the mirror to watch him as she reached for her toothbrush; my Prince, your gentleness amazes me still. She knew she would remember this moment, crystallized, in the future. Your hands in my hair, the roses falling through your fingers, the blue of your eyes, the drift of your thoughts to me, so soft, so devoted.

Kenzie, he was thinking, I’ll put flowers in your hair in the forest, scatter flowers on our bed, flowers in your arms, we’ll lay in them and forget the world, they’ll weave flowers in your hair on our wedding day, I know it already as if I can see through a window, I can see the halo of your head and a crown of dark roses there, my Persephone, a dream of the future yet I know it’s real, how I long to ask you, to speak it into existence…

Duncan untwined the last of the rosebuds and Kenzie turned to him, lifting her chin to his face, but not kissing him, not quite--she hovered her lips achingly near to his, and heard the quiet, longing sound that drifted out of him against her, his face now free of the dark makeup he’d worn all night, and still so stunningly, completely beautiful, and yet you long for me, she thought, her skin wildly sensitive under his touch, you worship me, little old Mackenzie Stone.

“You aren’t little, Kenzie. I mean...you are little. I love how little you are, I love how close I can hold you--” and here his hands drifted down to Kenzie’s ass, cupping her there, pressing her sensitive sex up into him, his mouth hovering at her chin, “but baby, you aren’t little. You’re so bright--like the sun. Your vastness...it fucking staggers me. It’s like you have a universe inside you, and it’s beautiful beyond all description.You’re so divine--so strong, so brave, so kindhearted and so bright, like golden starlight--”

“Fuck, Duncan, the way you talk to me--”

“Just my entreating prayers to a goddess,” he whispered, lips finally falling under her ear. “Just my endless hope for her blessing.”

“Come to bed with me, hold me, sleep with me, fair Oberon, and in the morning, let’s fuck off into the forest and never come back,” and Kenzie was smiling against the overwhelmingly sweet sensation of his lips, and she felt him smile too and then laugh against her, a laugh that was so desperately joyful that she felt lost inside it for a moment, as though he were Eros and the sound of his laughter was the sound of desire itself. Purest joy. My love, that I can bring you this, that you have given yourself to me this way--it moves my soul utterly, it is the highest of all things, to be loved, to love you. She laughed too, a heartfelt laugh that threatened to dissolve into tears in her throat, and Duncan was kissing her mouth with soft, sweet pecking kisses, and she knew he felt the mingling fall of her emotion, the deluge in her. His hands came around her neck, unclasping Adelaide’s golden necklace, setting it on the sink beside her roses, and Kenzie was moved by the sight, by its shivering, quiet beauty--one is the city, the other the forest, and tomorrow we’ll retreat into nature and find its secrets, she thought. She shivered, and then Duncan was pulling her to the bed, shutting the lights off as he did, easing her down against into the sheets with his (clouded sky) eyes full of tenderness, setting the bowl with the chocolate and grapes aside (later my love, all things later, now, only you, only me, only sleep and our dreams of those other places, only the moon and us) and she was gathered inside his arms, her cheek at his heart again, his sex pressed into her belly, their legs irrevocably twined.

“Kenzie,” he murmured, and she was moved to be in the sudden darkness, in the feeling of him, “Will you sing to me? I love your voice so much.  Just a little, baby, please?”

Kenzie sighed against him. “Oh, baby. Of course I will.” She heard the thought he didn’t say aloud, the shyness in it: a lullaby. My sweet Duncan. My beloved. I will soothe you as you know only I can. She was quiet for a moment, in the stillness, in the shadows, in his arms. Then she knew what she wanted to sing to him; knew it as certainly as her love for him.

“Do you always trust your first initial feeling, special knowledge...holds true…bears believing…” And Kenzie felt him bury his face against the softness of her hair, his deep sigh of contentment, his love bursting into her, “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…”

And then they were dreaming, untethered from earth, together; under the face of another moon, this one much larger than the one they’d left, and lit with a glow that was utterly not of their world.

--------

The light was sweet and low as Kenzie drifted up, back to reality. It’s very early, she knew. She let her eyes linger closed for a moment, trying to recall the dream she’d surfaced from this time; it certainly wasn’t a bad dream, not like our nightmares, she knew. In this one she’d been wearing a very long black velvet gown with a very tight bodice that had exposed her throat to the dip of her breasts--it had pilled around her in huge folds, had drifted behind her as she walked--she remembered with a rush that the Mirror was in the dream, its embellished gold frame distinct, its vastness obvious. I saw myself in it, and I looked beautiful, but I looked--I looked like myself but not like myself. I wore dark jewels on my throat, and...there was this power in my eyes, I could see it reflected in the Mirror. Duncan was with me, but he was wearing something...something from another time period. He wore...breeches, I think that’s what they’re called, and long boots. His hair was longer--it fell to his shoulders in beautiful waves, but it was the same color it is now, like russet autumn leaves, not like the terrible, dark man I dreamt with his face, and not like that other Duncan, the one who had nebulas for eyes, with wings I didn’t understand the shape of. He was kissing my neck--he was wearing a flowing white shirt and he was taking it off, we were in a room with a huge four-poster bed, an opulent room, like we were in Versailles or something, the fireplace was lit and the light was low and we were full of nervous excitement, full of desire…

Here her recollection of the dream ended and she opened her eyes, sighing a little. The Mirror. The Mirror was there. Our Mirror. My Mirror...the one I know belongs to me somehow. It had something to do with that...with me knowing that. Duncan stirred a little against her--his arms had moved in sleep and one of them, she realized, was clutched at the dip of her ass--the other was against her hand between their pillows, his pinky and ring finger hooked around hers, their Cartier bracelets hovering near each other--the diamonds of Kenzie’s caught the early light, glinting into her sleep-touched eyes. Duncan’s stubbled jaw turned up in his sleep, his mouth opening a little, then closing, the small movement of his throat sending a shiver up her bare spine. My beautiful baby. His hand at her ass moved up to the small of her back--drew her in closer in his sleep, her hip bone pressing against his, his hardness (always), sending a little gasp of sensation out from her as it lifted into the space between her legs.

Kenzie hesitated for a moment, longing for his eyes to open, longing for his mouth to fall on hers, longing for the feeling of him probing into her mind--I feel lonely without him there now, I can’t help it--longing for the feeling of his beautifully thick, hard cock to be inside her, but she knew they had a long drive today--the sooner they left the penthouse and got on the road, the sooner they could be in the wonderful solitude of the woods, be at the lake. Alone together. Not like our day at the beach--which was so wonderful, but so brief--really alone together, for days, and free to explore the secrets of each other and the joy of nature. Fuck, I can’t wait.

It had been almost a year since the last time Kenzie was in the woods--she and Claire had gone with some of her old Georgetown friends to a nearby campgrounds and stayed for two nights during the muggiest stretch of August. It had been terribly hot, but the evenings had been so tranquil and lovely and the sunsets so beautiful, and she’d been so happy to be with Claire, and the memory was a good one--they’d shared a tent and eaten burnt hot dogs and canned baked beans and s’mores, got eaten alive by mosquitoes, and laughed with each other a lot, over everything, as they always did. My Clairebear. I wonder how your date with Harris went, and Kenzie smiled, thoughts drifting from Claire back to Duncan, her gaze roving over the man (almost more than a man sometimes, to me, like an angel, his soul having opened to me this way) she loved more than she ever thought possible--more than she would have thought herself, or anyone, capable of. She pushed back the feeling of tears, which always seemed to be hovering near now, and eased herself out of his embrace. Duncan stirred again, dipping his head down, his hand coming under his cheek--and he sighed in his sleep, then descended back into silent, slow breaths. Just sleep a little longer, my loveliest love, she sent out to him, her thoughts lined in gold. Sleep until your tiredness melts away--then we’ll leave.

Kenzie eased off the bed, glancing at the roses she’d tied above it, her eyes sliding to the Mirror (you were in my dream, beautiful thing--maybe our dream, if he dreamed too), examining her nakedness, moving to the bathroom. She gazed affectionately at her Golden Pothos on the back of the toilet as she sat to pee, wincing as she wiped herself--my poor asshole, she thought with an inner laugh, sorry sweetie, you’re gonna need to suck it up and get used to a big cock inside you. She snorted, giggling at her own thoughts, reaching for her hairbrush, coaxing the tangles out of her hair as she looked at the necklace and roses scattered on the sink affectionately. Kenzie set the brush down, grasping the necklace and moving to the closet, eyes watching Duncan in his quiet repose, hair tossed over his forehead; Eros sleeps. It was barely past 7, but she felt wide awake now, the stresses of the Gala--the chaotic energy of the press and photographers towards them, Marissa Montague’s tantrum, Bill Shepherd hissing into her face, his skin gray, his breath sour with sickness, the overwhelming sadness that had driven her to run blindly through a back hallway until she had reached that room that she knew had once belonged to Duncan--seeming far away already. She neatly set the necklace along the stretch of dark wood shelf where she now kept her jewelry in the huge closet--she admired it for a moment, the sheen of its gold and diamonds, fingers drifting over it, the perfect roundness of the ruby--then Kenzie reached for the Tiffany moon and clasped it around her neck. The first thing he ever brought me as a gift--like he was bringing me an offering on an altar. And my offering to him was the meal that I made for us--and he was so happy to receive it. I knew he was. I know he’s happy, truly happy, to receive whatever I give him. Because he loves me. Fuck, he truly does.

Kenzie turned, noticing Duncan had hung her golden gown from last night on a long wood hanger in the corner, so it faced the doorway. Its train drifted in a gathered pile on the floor, and Kenzie was struck by its loveliness again--a dress for a goddess. I wonder how all those pictures turned out, she wondered. I felt so lost in that happiness with him in those moments, it’s like for a little while I lost track of everything that was going on around us. But no. I’m not going to look. In fact, I’d like to not look at my phone at all while we’re away. I’ll bring it with me, but I think I’m going to just turn it off. Kenzie went out through the living room, still naked but for the moon necklace and the Cartier bracelet (which I’ll never take off, only he can take it off me) now; the penthouse was cool and she liked the chilliness on her skin, knowing it would be another hot June day. She moved to the obsidian island--it was clean of all residue of the food that had been spread there the evening before by Erik, Hannah and Georgio, the hands of the still-unseen-to-her housekeepers having whisked it away. I need to meet them and thank them for all the work they do to clean this penthouse, Kenzie thought, feeling guilty. They clean this space so beautifully. They deserve my thanks at the very least. I know Duncan is used to living this way, but I’m not--I’m used to cleaning up after myself. This world is still so strange to me.

She slid her golden clutch from last night off the island, snapping it open, glancing for a moment at her phone--a text from Mom, confirming Samuel had dropped her off safely, wishing them a wonderful time at the cabin, and an alert for an email from Candice, who’d confirmed Kenzie’s requests for PTO while they were away. Kenzie felt strange again, drifting in the knowledge that she’d never really need to worry about money again--god, since when? She wondered. She remembered living on ramen and oranges while she was at Georgetown, loathe to ask Momby for money; thought affectionately, nostalgically, of her tiny apartment, now empty of her things, empty of her life, which was here now, with Duncan. And now I’m wearing diamonds, and ordering hundreds of dollars’ worth of clothes with my boyfriend’s card like it’s nothing. She tucked her left foot behind her right heel, absently toeing a fourth position, the old habit of her ballet classes hovering in her subconscious as she wallowed in the feeling. Then, she remembered the longing look of happiness in his eyes when she had mentioned it last night--he loves to buy me things, he loves my clothes. He gave me that card because he loves to give me things. He loves me. He loves me so much. How does he love me so much. I’m the luckiest girl in the world. I’m going to just be happy--just be happy and enjoy this right now. 

Kenzie shut her phone off, then knelt down to where the boxes were piled, sifting through them until she found the ones with Free People shipping labels. Glee fell down through her as she opened them--every day since they met, the way Duncan would stare at her getting dressed sent wild, nervous, anticipatory energy through her body. She thought of him looking at her in these lovely things, these lovely pieces of clothing she’d so carefully chosen to make herself feel beautiful, to make herself feel like the best version of herself she could be, the happiest, the kindest, the most open--the self she knew she had in her, had sometimes been before she met him and was still, the self she would always be, but now even greater than before. If anything, he makes me more myself, she knew. He makes me braver, fills my heart with courage. With him I feel like I can do anything. I feel like I can be the person I’ve always known I could be, deep down. Now, I can be her, that best self, because he’s here, and I was waiting for him. I was waiting for my partner, the person I could share everything with--all of me. I was waiting for my love, for the love that would kindle my heart to the highest emotions, and bring me to life. When Duncan said he longed for me that evening in the woods when he was alone, I knew he meant it. And now I know I longed for him too--in the dark of my quiet bed alone at night, those nights after Tyler and I broke up and I was so fucking lonely sometimes I’d cry myself to sleep in the shadows, it was Duncan I ached for, and now I know that. It was him, and now I feel like sometimes I almost perceived the shape of him inside that loneliness, saw the outline of his face, his hair, his hands. Knew that he was out there somewhere, in the world, looking for me too. And I found him, oh, Goddess. I found him. Thank you, Fates. Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos. You weaved us together, tied us with a golden string that cannot be broken. You brought us together again. The wheel turned for us. I’m grateful.

Kenzie pulled a pair of classic black Vans with white laces from one of the boxes, alongside the aforementioned tiny cut off shorts and little black bikini--she also pulled out a golden-yellow lacy cropped top with long blouse sleeves and a v-neck that plunged low, a tie at the front. Kenzie gathered her outfit choices and moved to the bathroom again, slipping into the shower and turning the knob--she used a tie she’d left on the toiletry rack at some point to hold her tawny hair back, and lathered Duncan’s jasmine soap over her body, over the sensitivity between her ass cheeks, along the lips of her cunt, thinking of his mouth there. The way you eat me out, fuck, baby, it’s like--fucking nirvana. I feel your worship in every bit of my body when you do that. Then Kenzie stepped out of the shower, letting her hair fall down again, slipping into the little bikini, which hugged her small breasts flatteringly, then wrapped the gold-sunflower crop top around her body, the cut-offs over her thighs. She glanced at herself in the bathroom’s oval mirror, the wide glow of her eyes, the fall of her hair, brushed to soft waves, the moon at her neck, the incline of her thighs below the little shorts and the dip of her bare waist between--go wake your baby up with your cute ass, girl.

Kenzie went to the bed softly, smiling against her fist--Duncan hadn’t moved from the same position, his head dipping down into his hand on the pillow, his expression achingly angelic. She slid down to him, lifting her leg around him so she was straddling him across his torso, pushing him gently so he was on his back--Duncan stirred, moaning a little, reaching for her, and then his hands fell on the softness of her blouse then to the smoothness of her stomach, the dip of her ass in the little shorts, and his eyes drifted open, their depth instantly intrigued.

“Good morning, Prince Duncan,” Kenzie whispered, shaking her hair around her shoulders, fingers coming up to brush along the Tiffany moon, so he would see she was wearing it. “Are you ready to fuck off into the woods with your baby?”

“Mmmh, Kenzie, angel--” Duncan was blinking the sleep away from his eyes now, gripping her tighter, sliding himself up so he was against the headboard, pulling her against his naked lap, his hard cock coming up between them, pressing inside her spread thighs, against the crotch of the denim cut offs, his lips falling to the space beside her mouth and drifting back to her ear. Kenzie couldn’t stop the tiny moan that fell out of her at the insistence of his mouth and his arms, suddenly--god, you smell so good, baby, you smell like desire.

“Unng, you look so fucking cute,” he was murmuring against her, lifting away from his hot kisses on her skin, his (finally open, oh fuck, goddess, open and full of so much need like a blue sky over an ocean of impossible depth) eyes roving over her, the shape of her in the crop top and the tiny shorts, the moon at her throat, the fall of her hair. “You’re my Princess, Kenzie, aren’t you? Fuck, kiss me, Princess--” Kenzie grinned at him and gripped his stubbled jaw, nipping hot kisses along his bottom lip, one of his hands burying itself inside her hair at the back of her skull, holding her steady to him, the other drifting into the back of her shorts against her ass, his Cartier bracelet cool on her skin--his hands felt the smooth fabric of her bikini bottoms and he let out another low moan into her mouth.

“I’m wearing my new little black bikini under this,” Kenzie smiled into him.

“Mmh, Kenzie, fuck, baby--babylove--” Kenzie could feel the straining in his mind, drifting against her, the thought he was hesitating to speak out loud. I need your mouth on my cock, baby, my poor cock is so fucking hard for you, hard like last night, it hurts, it needs you, I fucking need you--

“You want me to suck your big cock, huh, Prince Duncan?” Kenzie moved her hips as she spoke into his mouth, lifted herself so she ground against him, the denim shifting against his length. Duncan let out a pitiful moan, his eyes wincing closed in an achingly lovely supplication to her.

“Please,” he whispered into her “Please, Princess Kenzie. I’ll do anything. I--I’ll--”

“Shhhhh, shhhh, baby,” and Kenzie brought her hand up to her mouth between them, willing spit from the back of her throat for a moment, then licking down the inside of her fingers wetly, shushing his begging, pressing her lips against the bridge of his nose, leaning away, smiling, teasing. She hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering just beside his hardness, not letting herself touch him, a line of spit falling down from her fingers onto the head of his erection, and he let out another piteous little moan, his fingers drifting at her thighs, staring into her. Then, Duncan rolled his hips into her, and his stiff, thick cock fell against her hand and she closed her fingers around it with terrible gentleness, and he was crying piteously against her, “uhh, Kenzie, Kenzie angel, fucking please--”

Kenzie gripped him tighter, eased her little fingers up to the head of his cock, her index finger drifting over the sensitive hole at the tip, and she felt the shiver fall through him, watched the ecstatic drift of his eyes. I’m never gonna get over how fucking gorgeous you are, Duncan Shepherd, and she jerked her hand along his length again, squeezing it a little at the base, palm brushing over his balls with a weighted insistence.

“This big cock belongs to me, doesn’t it, baby?” Kenzie pressed her mouth against the stubble on his jaw as she jerked harshly at his thick length, letting her whispers drift against him, letting her eyelashes flutter at his cheek, letting her hair fall against his nose where she knew it would fill his senses. The sounds he was making--keening, needy cries, sighing moans of abject craving for her--were kindling low heat in her belly, between her spread thighs, the lips of her cunt in the tiny bikini pressing harshly into the denim, rubbing into her clit, stoking her arousal. Gonna make you come, rich boy. Gonna make you come hard for me. You’re mine, aren’t you? You’re my beautiful baby, aren’t you, Dunny? Your come is for me, your beauty all for me, your moans for me, your big hard cock is for me--

“Yes, fuck, yes, fucking yes, Kenzie, I’m yours, my cock is yours, every part of me is yours, uhmm, please, fucking please, fuck--you’re so lovely, I can’t stand it, you smell so fucking lovely, uhh, unnnh--”

Kenzie spread her legs out further, easing herself backwards off Duncan’s lap as she continued to flit her hand up and down his hard cock--he let go of her reluctantly, his face raw with yearning, and she slid down onto her knees between his legs stretched out on the bed, bringing them together tightly so the denim rode up into the lips of her cunt, the pressure of the soft bikini fabric against her clit, her head dipped down in front of him. She willed more spit from the back of her throat and let it drip in a long slaver from her lips onto the head of his cock, her fingers dipping up to the head of him again to ease it insistently down. She could see his thighs shuddering, his hands reaching into her hair again, tangling there, pulling, burying themselves as if he never wanted to let go again. Then, finally, Kenzie dipped her mouth onto him, swirling her tongue around the hole at the tip of his cock, and her eyes came up to watch his head tilt back, watch his aching loveliness inside her ministrations. She dipped further down, remembering to open her throat to him, taking him entirely into her as she had when they went to the beach house--she didn’t gag this time, but her eyes immediately began to water, and she tried to breathe in but realized he blocked her airway entirely this way. Drool dripped down from her stretched lips, pooling into his balls, and Duncan’s hands were pressing her head down onto him, his cries lifting--his hips bucked so Kenzie’s lips fell to the shaft of him, and tears drifted down her cheeks. Kenzie thought of the way he’d fucked her ass last night, his thickness filling her to the point where her mind seemed to untether, and she imagined him inside her ass now, wishing he could fill both ends of her at once.

“Fuck, me too, baby, me too, fucking fuck Kenzie, baby, you feel so amazing, I love your little throat so much--” and his hand drifted down to grip her neck. “I love holding you in this spot, love choking you into white-gold thoughts--” and Kenzie knew he meant the way her mind looked to him when he pressed his fingers there, the color of her thoughts under the ecstasy of his hands. His eyes seemed to go darker as she glanced into them, and she pressed an insistent hand into his thigh, easing herself back--Duncan let go of her throat and she lifted up, gasping air through her nose as his length slid out of her throat, the head of him still resting against her tongue. She nodded into him now, sucking greedily at him, her fingers coming down to grip along the bottom of his balls. Come in my mouth, Prince. Give me your sweet come. I know how much you want me, I can feel every fiber of it. Your thick cock is mine, my little mouth is yours. Come for me, let me swallow all your desire into me.

Duncan bit down into his lip as Kenzie watched, and for a moment it seemed as though he was on the edge of tears, his face crumpling into a wince that shook her with its loveliness, and then she felt the warm thickness of his come flooding her mouth, felt the intensity of his shuddering into the cavity of her mouth, coating her tongue, splashing down her throat. It was sweet this time--fruits and chocolate, she thought. Beloved Dionysus. Dunny, baby, oh, baby. She let her mouth dip down one more time, let some of his come slide down the side of his shaft before lowering herself to suck it clean--and then Duncan was pulling her up, pulling her head away from his cock insistently, hungrily claiming her lips with his open mouth, sucking at them, tasting, nibbling at her. The sun was finally rising in earnest now--one of its beams scattered along the bed as they tasted at each other, and Kenzie’s heart was hammering rapidly, the sweet taste of his come still on her tongue, the woodsy-musk of his scent filling her head.

“Good morning, my love,” he whispered into her, and they were both smiling--smiling with earnest contentment, Kenzie sending drifts of her golden affection against him, feeling the cool blue of him swirl back into her. Her heart felt suddenly too full, the tears not yet dried on her cheeks; Duncan was kissing her again, gathering her against him in his lap again, whispering “I love you, good morning, I love you angel--” until she couldn’t help but laugh, giggling against him as his breath tickled on her neck, dipping her arms around his neck. To be with you, just to be with you, my heart’s going to just burst, I never knew anything could be so perfect, so right.

“I wanna go swim in the lake and eat blackberries in the shade, baby,” she said into his ear. “Let’s go fuck under the trees, in the flowers. I’m gonna make some coffee.” She tried to lift away from him but Duncan grasped her at the dip under her shoulder blades, mouth clashing into her, still hungry. “Dunny, I mean it, you need to get ready, you’re being fucking naughty--” “Yes, yes I am--” and he was biting along her neck, moving his hand down to press into the dip of her ass, a reminder of yesterday, and Kenzie yelped against him, struggling, jabbing her fingers into his torso and making him twist in tickling surprise as she tumbled out of his lap, laughing again.

“You did it to yourself! You tempted the tickler!” she called back as she rolled off the bed, running away from him, and Kenzie could hear his frustrated laugh as she escaped on bare feet. She went to the cupboard and brought down two of the glass mugs, starting the Keurig under one, then going to the fridge and pulling out a mango and a grapefruit, using one of Duncan’s bamboo cutting boards and kanso knives to slice them open, getting down two plates and putting half on each, getting two of Adelaide’s little silver spoons for the grapefruit, cutting the mango halves into checkered squares, discarding the hard center. Kenzie blew on the coffee, setting the other mug under the Keurig for Duncan, taking a careful sip. Perfect. Today will be perfect because I will it. I’m going to push my love out of me and let it fall over everything. I’m going to manifest my love into the world and mold my surroundings into loveliness.

She set her mug down on the island, lifting the sweetness of the mango to her lips, relishing its succulent taste--then she went to the cupboard and brought down a Waterford glass, dipping it under the faucet and pouring a splash into each of her succulents along the window, making a mental note to ask Anchaly to have the housekeepers check on them in a few days. Kenzie looked out the kitchen’s sunny, wide window to the clusters of trees and streets and the outline of the historic Colonial houses of Georgetown stretching far away and far below, sunlight spilling into the long steel sink, the sky almost impossibly blue with only the tiniest hint of cloud wisps scattered in it. I think when we come back, I’ll be different somehow. I have this feeling like--like I’ll know something important about myself that I didn’t know before.

Kenzie looked down into her hands at the mango--then she turned with a strange feeling, setting the mango down on the counter, and glanced back at the grapefruit half she’d left on her plate on the island. She hesitated, dipping a hand over the wave of her hair and tucking it behind her ear--then she sent the gold tendrils of her--of my spirit, my will, she knew--out to it. Come here. Into my hand.

Kenzie blinked, once, twice; then she felt a surge, as though she’d sent out a hook into the air, and then there was a heavy feeling, of the hook burying itself into the soft flesh of the grapefruit skin--and then she was blinking down in her hands as the dimpled weight of the fruit’s cool surface pressed there. Somehow. Impossibly. I made it move into my hand. And I KNEW I could do that. I knew that somehow. It’s impossible--but no less impossible than anything else that’s been happening to us lately. Hearing each other’s thoughts. Duncan finding me just by feeling for me. Duncan moving himself across a room with his mind. Me pressing my gold into people, healing them, pushing Marissa away with my mind. No less impossible. And yet.

Kenzie looked up from the fruit clutched in her palms--Duncan was coming into the kitchen, moving around the island to press a soft kiss against her hair, reaching for his coffee. He was wearing a slim-fit, short sleeve button-down in very dark navy, the top button undone, giving him a much more relaxed look than his usual fully-buttoned seriousness, and slim-cut, tight-fitting jersey shorts that came only to his upper thigh with a tying waist in washed, neutral black. His hair was now damp and towel-mussed from the shower, but to an unaccustomed eye (my eye is becoming accustomed, Kenzie couldn’t help but note with vague satisfaction), it seemed deliberately styled. He looks, Kenzie thought, so fucking perfect. If I didn’t love him so much, I’d be so fucking annoyed with him for looking so fucking good so early in the morning.

“Thanks, baby,” he murmured to her softly, taking a sip, then looked at her with some concern as he noticed her eyes, the dumbfounded expression on her face. “What? What is it?”

“I--Duncan. I just moved this grapefruit--” she held the half up to him, its pink interior dipping in her palm, “from the island, into my hand. From across the room.”

“Huh.” Duncan looked down at it, frowning, then moved to the island, brushing her arm a little with his fingers as he stepped away from her, the Cartier bracelet sliding down his wrist. He looked down at the plate she’d made for him, then back up at her, setting his coffee cup down.

“Try to move the other one, baby.”

Kenzie put the half of the grapefruit in her hand down on the counter beside her mango, then stared, concentrating, at the half on Duncan’s plate. Come to me. Into my hand. She dipped her palm down, fingers crooked--then sent the tendrils of gold out of her again, as she knew she could. There was a pause, then the hooking sensation again; and then Duncan was whispering “oh, fuck,” as Kenzie blinked down at her hand again in surprise. The dimpled weight of the grapefruit was now pressing there. She’d done it again.

“What the fuck,” she said, staring up at him. “How the fuck did I do that?”

“Fuck, Kenz, I don’t know, but for a second it sort of wobbled, then it zipped through the air into your hand like a shot. It was so quick. You blinked and you missed it. But it did.”

Kenzie felt dizzy for a moment, and she suddenly dropped the grapefruit half to the floor--Duncan hurried over to her, reaching out to grip her under her arms. “Kenzie, baby, are you okay? Do you feel dizzy again, like you did last night--after you sent Marissa went away?”

“A little,” she whispered, and Duncan was pressing her back against the counter, reaching behind her for a glass (this one had sunflowers on it, from the set the peony glass belonged to) and filling it from the filtered tap, holding it up to her. Kenzie clutched it with a hand she noticed was now shaking, taking a long drink as Duncan leaned down to pick up the grapefruit.

“You can do extraordinary things, Kenzie,” he murmured to her softly. His eyes were so blue--she felt dizzy again just looking up at him, dizzy with how lovely he was in the sunlight. “I have this feeling, baby. This feeling like--like when we come back--”

“Yes,” she was whispering against him, his hands coming around to her elbows, thumbs caressing the sleeves of her golden-yellow shirt. “We’ll be different. We’ll know things about each other--we’ll know.”

They both fell silent--it was all Kenzie could do to look into his face, so radiant with beauty, so full of love for her, tinged with hope and vague apprehension. The worries from the last few days were fading from his mind, she could feel it; pushed away by the more pressing knowledge that was the thing approaching them swiftly on the horizon, whatever it is. It has to do with me being able to move things. It has to do with us hearing each other’s thoughts, baby. It has to do with you finding me last night. Whatever we find out, it’s going to explain this. It’s going to show us what all of this means.

Duncan was nodding, his blue eyes burning like flame on her. “I’m not afraid, Kenzie. Not with you by my side.”

Kenzie felt her lip trembling. No, baby. I’m not afraid either. Just moved beyond words inside the vastness of everything I can feel is on its way. Thank the goddess--I have you. Inside your love, I fear nothing.

----------

An hour later, they were almost ready to leave for the cabin. Kenzie had begun to feel effervescently happy as they packed the picnic basket and two sleek white Yeti coolers with a vast array of fresh fruits (grapes, pears, honeycrisp apples, a huge pineapple, more mangos and grapefruits, little clementines, raspberries, blackberries and cherries) and vegetables (tomatoes, spring lettuce, avocados, celery sticks, mini sweet peppers, baby carrots, little cucumbers), sandwich fixings (turkey, cold chicken, tempeh, sliced swiss and provolone), a carton of organic eggs and a butcher’s wrap of turkey bacon, several hunks of artisan cheese (gouda, brie, havarti), jars of olives, tiny gherkin pickles, round rice and wheat crackers, sprouted bread, cream cheese, hummus, tortilla chips, pico de gallo, and an assortment of nuts and trail mix, granola bars, greek yogurt, almond milk, orange juice, lots of coffee k-cups and a bag of ground espresso beans; Duncan assured her there was a Keurig and an espresso machine at the cabin. Something tells me this cabin isn’t quite a cabin, Kenzie thought. The picnic basket had four bottles of red wine, the cooler had three each of rose and white, a bottle of Stoli, a bottle of bourbon, Pellegrinos, lime La Croix, organic ginger ale, and fresh limes and lemons. Duncan had also packed a half ounce of blue-strain weed and a gold-leaf weed pipe that Kenzie had demanded to admire for a moment before she’d give it back to him. Still discovering each other’s little secrets, she’d thought.

“There’s this little general store pretty close to the cabin, too, so we don’t need to pack enough for the entire time--we can go there during the day if we need anything,” he told her, setting the striped buckling blanket--the one they’d taken to the Cape Cod house--the lovely quilts, and the box that held the fireside cooking kit Kenzie had ordered beside the cooler and the picnic basket in front of the penthouse door. Kenzie had hauled her rolling red Kenneth Cole suitcase out of the side-closet in the walk-in where she’d placed it, after moving all her things to the penthouse--she’d had it since Georgetown, a gift from her Abadaba before she passed away, but it was holding up nicely. Inside it she carefully organized enough clothing for a week, almost all of it new (two cardigans: Duncan’s black Brooks Brothers’, and a new long gray one with large buttons and slits at the sides, a long button-down short-sleeved dress the color of sunflower petals, a short pink babydoll dress with long sleeves and roses prints along its hem, a tiny white cotton summer mini dress with a plunging neckline, a black flowing v-neck wrap dress with a buckle at the waist, a rust-colored, strapped mini dress with the sides cut-out, a pair of short-coveralls in light blue denim, a crop top with banded straps and white embroidery, a gray top with extra long sleeves, an ankle-length flowing linen dress with roses printed all over it), several pairs of sandals (her strappy beige, a new pair of black boot sandals) and her brown Timberland hiking boots (she’d only worn them once--on the trip with Claire last August). Kenzie tucked the velvet ribbon, her egg and plug, the rose choker, and Duncan’s cock ring into the suitcase as well, alongside both pairs of her Agent Provocateur lingerie, her little black kimono, her satin pyjamas, the oversized Led Zeppelin tee and lots of clean underwear. She only packed one bra--and I don’t plan on wearing it at all, she thought defiantly. Wild and free with my lover in the woods, and I can’t fucking wait. Fuck bras.

As she packed Duncan did the same alongside her--his suitcase was Prada (and decidedly more expensive than my banged-up one from Bed, Bath and Beyond, Kenzie thought), made of some kind of tech fabric with leather trim, and black, of course. She stole glances at him, eyes lovingly falling down his form, his eyes meeting hers every now and then when they caught each other staring--Kenzie watched the concentrated squint of his face, his hand drifting thoughtfully to his bottom lip, the fitted perfection of his clothing, the coiled strength in his arms, the fine hair on his legs to his large feet, now in black ankle socks, the soft dip of his hair on his forehead as he leaned into his drawers, pulling out several pairs of fitted and relaxed black chinos, black leather Nike hiking boots, the Armani sandals he’d worn to Yarmouth, black swim trunks, another short-sleeved button-down Oxford like the one he was wearing right now, a Nike club hoodie, another hoodie that zipped, more pairs of black jersey shorts, two jersey tee shirts--black, all black, and a single long-sleeved navy cotton flannel, along with at least ten pairs of the black briefs he always wore, and a dozen pairs of black moisture-wicking socks. He pushed through his hangers and Kenzie’s eyes fell on a black short-sleeved Oxford with earth-tone feathers printed all over it--”Bring that one, baby,” she said. “I like that one.”

He turned to her, smiling. “Whatever you want, Princess Kenzie.”

Kenzie was putting some of her jewelry (her rose quartz, the tiny rose-gold moon, her triple-moon pendant with the black obsidian) in a little travel pouch she usually used for it, and smiled with satisfaction at his answer. “Yep, that’s right.” She pulled the new black Vans onto her feet, skipping away from him to the bathroom, feeling his eyes following her all the way, the drift of his thoughts: Kenzie, my sweet Kenzie, my little shooting star, my firefly, I want to kiss your hair, your cheeks, your feet, the sweet space between your legs...she gripped toiletries in her fingers, calling out to him: “What do you need from in here, baby? I can bring it to you.” But she realized he was coming up behind her then, his long hands drifting around her under her breasts, his mouth coming to her neck.

“We need to get going, baby,” she laughed, twisting out of his arms, her toothbrush, mascara, eyeliner and tube of deodorant slipping out of her hands at his insistent touch; they scattered against the sink. She gave him a facetious look of annoyance and he grinned at her. “Later, okay? Stop being so naughty. We have a three hour drive ahead of us.”

Duncan groaned at the ceiling. “Don’t remind me, Kenz. I haven’t driven a car for that long in...probably at least two years.”

“We can take turns. I still drive Momby around in her old Jeep sometimes, so honestly I’m more used to a stickshift at this point. But I have a quick memory.”

“My little Kenzie driving a stickshift. That’s just sexy.”

Kenzie snorted. “Not if you saw it. There’s nothing sexy about that car. It’s like the old donkey of cars. That G-Class is sexy, though.” He bit his lip at that. You’re fucking sexy, baby. Nothing else is compared to you. He tried to grab her again and she skittered away, laughing nervously.

“Did Madeline get home okay last night?” Duncan was pulling several black Prada toiletry bags out of a bottom drawer under the sink, holding one open to Kenzie to put her things into--she smiled up at him and saw the melting expression in his eyes as he hovered over her. She took the bag from him and his hand immediately drifted into her hair.

“Yeah, she was fine. She told me to tell you she hopes we have a good time. I was thinking, baby--I think I’m going to turn my phone off during the trip. I’ll bring it, but I might not turn it back on until we get back. Unless there’s an emergency.”

“You know what, babe--that’s a great idea. I’m gonna do that too.” Duncan pulled his black iPhone out of his back pocket, holding down the side button, swiping the power off. He slid it back into his pocket, palm falling against her cheek.

“I can’t wait to be there alone with you. Kenzie. I can’t wait to show you everything.You’re going to love it so much.”

“I love you so much,” and she grinned up at him, hand coming against his on her face, cherishing the warmth of it. He leaned to kiss her but she slipped away, her mind humming with mischief towards him.

“No more kisses till we get to the cabin, baby. That’s the new rule.”

“Ugh, Kenzie, that’s hours from now--” and his expression was enough to drive her to the edge of immediately recanting, but Kenzie crossed her arms, turning her chin up in mock severity.

“Then you better hurry up, Mr. Shepherd.” Kenzie gave him a prim look and slipped away from him to the closet, retrieving a tote bag from her drawers--it was midnight blue and had a pattern of white celestial suns and moons, tiny stars glowing in the background. Kenzie went back to the kitchen and put the ghost story books and Duncan’s childhood mythology book in it, then she stepped into the study, moving to Duncan’s bookcases--she couldn’t resist looking back at The Youth of Bacchus for a long moment, lost in its ethereal beauty. I could kiss it, I love it so. She turned back to the bookcase, searching through his meticulously organized library--organized first by subject, then by author, alphabetically. Astronomy/astrology, she found near the top of the first shelf, and hummed with frustration--I’m too short to reach.

“Dunny! Come help me! And bring me the books on the nightstand, please?” She cupped a hand around her mouth and shouted through to the bedroom. Duncan appeared a moment later, Jane Eyre and The Golden Compass under his arm. “What’s this one about?” He asked, holding the second aloft.

“I haven’t started it yet, but I think it’s about parallel universes or something? I think that’s what the synopsis said.” He passed them to her, fingers clutching at her as she put them in the tote, trying to kiss her again. She deftly avoided him, loving the tiny frustrated sounds he made, the pained longing in his sky-colored eyes. “Baby, help me reach a stargazing book. That one up there, Backyard Guide to the Night Sky.” Duncan went to reach for it, then stopped, smiling at her vexingly. His hair looks so perfect. His skin is so beautiful. He is so fucking beautiful.

“Kiss me first.”

“Hey, I thought I said--”

“Please, baby. Please? Just one...little...kiss. Please, Miss Stone. I beg you.” Duncan was dipping his face (fuck he’s so beautiful, fuck, I can’t get past it, I can’t stop admiring him, he just doesn’t seem real sometimes, it’s like I made him up in my head, how can I resist him) down to her, his fingers drifting down the sides of her waist, and she tried for another long moment, tried to fight it, but then his hands were cupping along the bottom of her ass, dragging her against him, and her mouth was opening to him, and she thought fuck it, I love you so much--and his tongue was teasing into hers and she sighed and thought fuck we’re never gonna get to that cabin at this rate and he pushed her against the bookcase, fingers coming up to her hair and under her ear, pulling her insistently into him, and he tasted like the mango and bitter coffee and smelled like rain on cedar wood--

“Okay, baby--” she tried to pull away and he captured her lips again, moaning into her softly, “Dunny--you got your kiss, get that book for me--”

“I love you.”

“I know you do.”

“I love you, Kenzie.”

“I know, you dipshit, I fucking love you too.” She stuck her tongue out at him, but Duncan wasn’t deterred--he pressed his nose against hers, drifting it from side to side, then leaned back to stare at her. His eyes were like clouds reflecting a blue sea; he could see into her mind, she knew, feel the rosy adoration there for him. Just for you, Duncan Shepherd, and only for you, and you fucking know it. You know you’re the One, the only One, exalted in my eyes, beloved. He stared at her for another long moment (divine goddess, she heard, princess of heaven)--then, not without a marked disappointment, reached his long arm up to the shelf and brought the book down for her.

“It’s time to go, baby,” she whispered. “You can kiss me a million times when we get there.”

“Promise?”

“I fucking promise, Prince Duncan. In the long grass. Under the stars.”

-------

It was past 9 when they were finally on the road--Duncan wore his round Yves sunglasses, the smooth glide of the G-Class’ steering wheel drifting under his elegant hand; he was pressing one of his black Puma suede sneakers (Kenzie was amused to note it was the first time she’d ever seen him wear sneakers of any kind, but these were undoubtedly Duncan-style) on and off the gas pedal impatiently, starting and stopping in the Arlington traffic on the way to the Maryland highway.

They’d packed everything neatly in the trunk and along the backseat; Kenzie’s eyes gazed over her dark red roses affectionately, the gold vase carefully tucked into a basket that rested in the middle of the backseat, held steady between the two coolers and the picnic basket. A bellhop had appeared upstairs to help with a cart after Duncan had called downstairs on the intercom, so it hadn’t taken long. It was everything else that took awhile, Kenzie thought, thinking of Duncan’s hot, insistent kisses--she glanced over at him, saw him glancing between her and the road, looked away, smiling into her hand, her own round sunglasses shielding her eyes from him. She took another bite of a half-eaten chocolate-peanut butter Luna bar in her other hand, and flipped the Sirius XM on as Duncan merged onto I-270, heading north--Kenzie had waved as they’d driven past Madeline’s neighborhood a few minutes before, murmuring “hi Momby, bye Momby,” under her breath. Duncan had glanced at her, and she saw his endeared smile. Kenzie found the electronic station from last night, rolling the window down--the day wasn’t quite as hot as it would be later, yet, and there was a delicious summer wind. A sultry feminine voice drifted through the speakers as Duncan hit the highway, pressing his foot fully down on the gas now--Kenzie’s heart drifted up, and she sighed deeply, relief flowing through her. She reached for Duncan’s hand and he grasped her fingers, eye on the road. I can feel your heart lift too, baby. We’re escaping.

I’mma swallow all these diamonds, I’mma make you proud--you’re the greatest of all time, you’re the greatest of all time, you’re the greatest of all time, you’re the greatest...chain me up, trap me in gold, you’re my king, I gotta have you close--

God, this sounds like it’s about us, Kenzie thought shyly into him, and she could see him biting into his lip, his thumb drifting across to her knee. It does, doesn’t it. She twined her fingers into his there, loving the weight of him, the warm halo of his touch, the smooth drift of the car, the cool smell of new leather in its interior. The wind was whipping her hair against her neck, the sun hovering a quarter of the way into the sky, the temperature still in the merciful upper 70’s, and according to the GPS, traffic was minimal all the way to the lake. Kenzie laid her head back into the seat, sighing contentedly.

Pick me up and go, no I don’t wait don’t wait for no one, you gotta pick me up and go, no I don’t wait don’t wait don’t wait no, I’mma glow with or without you, two mil’ in my system I’mma swallow all these diamonds never spit ‘em out…

“I’m gonna jump head-first into the lake as soon as we get there,” Kenzie was murmuring to Duncan, her eyes drifting closed behind her sunglasses in the comfort of this moment. “Let’s go swimming, then eat lunch, then fuck all afternoon--”

“Holy fuck, Kenz--that sounds perfect. Wait till you see the water, today is exactly the kind of day I was talking about, where the sky reflects on it and everything is so clear and blue--”

“Like your eyes, baby,” Kenzie felt sleepy suddenly, sleepy with the depth of the peace she felt, the half-eaten granola bar falling down into her lap from her fingers, her other hand soothed by the slow caress of Duncan’s thumb over her skin. She heard his little scoff, but felt the glowing warmth of his affection, his quiet acknowledgement that she was right. Yeah. Yes, baby. Like my eyes when I stare at you, and you alone.

“What’s the bedroom like, baby?” She murmured to him, her eyes still closed. The wind felt so miraculously good; she smiled in the cocoon of all of it, the feeling of the sun on her cheek, the pressure of his hand, the electronic pulse of the music from the speakers, only a couple of hours and we’ll be in our own secret paradise.

“I’m assuming you mean the master bedroom, which is where we’ll be sleeping,” she heard Duncan say, his thumb still drifting against her, and Kenzie puzzled at that--what kind of cabin has a master bedroom? Her curiosity burned for a moment at Duncan’s quietness after his statement, then the soothing sensations of the drive were drifting against her again. Might as well just enjoy the ride and see it when we get there. You’re being coy on purpose, baby. Kenzie opened her eyes for a moment, glancing at him. Duncan’s face was placidly beautiful, his sharp jaw striking as he looked toward the road--a remix of Ella Fitzgerald’s Blue Skies now pumped from the speakers--blue skies smiling at me, nothing but blue skies do I see, nothing but blue--and Kenzie thought this is how it feels to be with you.  

Kenzie closed her eyes again, leaning her head back into the seat this time--when she opened them again, she realized she’d fallen asleep. The light had changed, was brighter and coming from directly overhead, the sun no longer streaming into the car from the side. Her neck was aching from the odd position she’d slipped into, her head crooked down onto her shoulder. Duncan looked at her sideways, grinning at her. The road was mostly deserted now but for a Prius driving a yard ahead of them and a slow-moving red Corolla that Duncan passed easily--they were surrounded by trees on either side of the asphalt, and it felt like they were climbing to a slightly higher altitude, the G-Class on the drift of an incline.

“Hi, baby. We’re about half an hour away now.”

“You’re kidding.” Kenzie lifted her arms out, stretching, the sound of her voice decidedly sleep-tinged in her ears. “I slept for two hours?” She glanced up at the dashboard; the digital clock read 11:37.

“It’s okay, baby. Yesterday was a long day--the last few days have been long. It’s all been--you know. Overwhelming. You were tired.”

“I said I was gonna help drive.”

“Kenzie, angel, it doesn’t matter. It went by so fast--it was peaceful. To watch over you. It was soothing, to have some time to think about everything. About...my mother. About Annette, I mean, but about my mother too. My real mother. Whoever she is. Wherever she is.”

“I’m sure Annette knows.” Kenzie reached for Duncan’s hand again and he drifted it out to her, grasping her. He looks so lovely in the memory of his solitude, she thought. I can see how his face must have looked at me as I slept. Oh, baby. How I love you.

“Yeah, I--I’m going to talk to her when we get back. I decided I will. There are things I know she knows that she needs to tell me. But for now I think it was enough to just contemplate it. Accept it. That there’s this whole part of me I haven’t known about until now. And it was calming to--to think about you...” Duncan’s head dipped here, his expression shy. To think about how much I love you, about how much I want to marry you, how much I want to know about the thing that’s coming, the hidden thing that’s right on the horizon, the secret thing, the thing that will tell us about each other, why it feels like we’ve always been together, always will be, about the dreams. “And the things that have been happening.”

“I wonder if there are other things we can do. You moved through a room just by thinking about it. I moved objects--I moved a person. I wonder if there are other things. We should try things, I mean--being in the woods alone is the perfect place for us to do weird shit without anyone bothering us,” and he snorted at her, laughing. Kenzie grinned at him, then she was serious again, straightening the smile. “Let’s see if we can figure it out.”

“Okay, baby. Let’s do weird shit.” Duncan was taking his sunglasses off, smiling at her with bemused mischief in his gaze--the oaks and pines gathering overhead and rising along the road were shielding them from the sunlight, and it was shady inside the car now, sunbeams dipping in and out, dancing over his cheeks. But within the playful expression in his face, the trust in his eyes shook her heart; I’d follow you anywhere, to the ends of the earth, to the edge of the universe, Mackenzie Stone. I’d follow you into the darkest abyss. Even that would be heaven, as long as you’re there. A line from Wuthering Heights, a book she’d loved fiercely since high school, drifted into her mind, clashing against his thoughts--if all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger…

“We’re getting really close now,” Duncan said, glancing away from her at the GPS. “Kenzie. I have a confession. I may have been misleading when I called it a cabin. It’s more of a--uhmm. A very large cabin.”

“Duncan.”

He bit into his lip. Turn left here, the GPS chirped, a feminine voice with a British accent. In .2 miles, turn left onto Lakeside Trail. Duncan spun the steering wheel under his long hands, and Kenzie’s eyes drifted to the Cartier bracelet locked to his left wrist, its gold flashing.  It’s me. That bracelet is me, my gold, the chain of us together, the golden thread of us.

“You’ll see. I think it’s..probably...bigger than you might be expecting.”

“Fuck. I forgot. You’re Duncan Shepherd. Playboy billionaire, soon to be CEO and majority shareholder of Shepherd Unlimited. Hot shit.”

“If I’m a playboy, you’re a playgirl. My little playgirl bunny. God, now I’m imagining your centerfold, fuuuuck--”

“Ugh, shut up, god, you’re being naughty today.” Kenzie reached out and pinched his side, hard, and he laughed in surprised pain, shying away from her. “Oww, baby, that fucking hurt.”

“Keep it up and I’m going to fucking spank you next,” Kenzie threatened.

“What if I like it?” He laughed as she jabbed her fingers out again, dancing them along his torso.

“We might just need to test that theory, then, huh baby?”

Duncan didn’t say anything, just continued to smile at her, amused and shy. He turned the SUV down a very long gravel path now, up to a long steel-bar gate with round golden lamps on either side of its entrance. Duncan pulled the car up to a keypad that dipped from an awning at the side, punching a code into it: 070688. His birthday, she thought. His mother’s doing, no doubt. Kenzie continued to drift inside his thoughts--the gates floated open and Duncan reached for her hand again as he put his foot on the gas. I was so used to being dominant with partners before you, baby, she heard him thinking. But I love it when you tell me what to do, and I love to tie you up and worship you, how you let me lead when my desire to is strong, and I loved it when you tied me up too, when you tell me I can’t touch my cock until you say I can, when you told me I couldn’t take my cock ring off, that only you could do it--with us, both are right, both feel right. Giving to you, taking from you, and around and around, like some holy circle we make together. I love it so much. I’d try anything with you. It’s always safe in the drift of your love. I love the way we give to each other endlessly. Nothing in the world could possibly feel more right to me.

Yes, baby, yes, Duncan. Then Kenzie lifted her eyes past the two rows of trimmed crabapple trees that lined the gravel drive--they were covered in red clusters, their very young fruit visible in the dappled sunlight of the late morning. She stifled the gasp that wanted to escape immediately; Duncan clearly heard her sharp intake, however, and glanced at her, his blue gaze hovering between apprehension at any hint of discontent, and an obvious hope for her approval.

This is not a fucking cabin, Duncan Shepherd. This is a fucking lakeside mansion. Kenzie pulled her sunglasses off, squinting at the huge structure that rose before them through the window of the SUV, aware her mouth was hanging open.

“Holy fuck, Duncan,” she whispered.

The cabin, as Duncan had called it, was a two-story sprawling structure, easily beyond 5,000 square feet, made of elegant stacked stone and dark walnut wood, with long, latticed dusky-red windows stretching along every wall of the lower level, giving it a regal romanticism that Kenzie immediately loved. The edges of the roof were slanted, made in dark black oak slatting. There were round string lights hung over every awning, but they were unlit at this hour of the day; Kenzie could only imagine how beautiful they looked at night. The structure’s lower level clearly encompassed more than half a dozen rooms, judging from its length--and a glass-enclosed structure with long wood tables, clearly for group events, was built off the side to Kenzie’s right, a spacious garage next to that. The entirety of the cabin-mansion’s length was enclosed by smooth, decorative white stones, and flowers were planted along the bottom of every window--Kenzie could make out geraniums, marigold, peonies and gardenia. There was a path to the left, surrounded by pines, and down it Kenzie could see a triangular-shaped, elegant white-wood gazebo built in the center of blooming hydrangeas. Inside the gazebo was a long wicker outdoor couch surrounded by flower pots with dozens of pillows, more of the round string lights hung about the eaves, and a long, low drink table with a decorative lantern. A long wooden swing hung nearby from a huge, sturdy oak that looked like it was at least a hundred years old. Beyond that, Kenzie could make out the long stretch of luscious water, indeed reflecting the blue of the summer sky with striking clarity--just as Duncan had promised. The lake. There was a long deck that extended from the shore, and a canoe tied to it with a length of rope, bobbing in the small tide. And I haven’t even seen the backyard yet.

Duncan had brought the SUV to a stop, pressing the smart key; the engine faded into silence. He reached a hand out to her, and she looked at him; is it okay, baby? His eyes searched her face, his mouth opening slightly towards her.

“Okay? Baby. This is like...oh my god. This is fucking paradise.” Kenzie felt tears begin to prick at her eyelids--she fought to keep them back, but it was all so wonderful, so much bigger than her, the vastness of the loveliness of him, of this, washing over her in a suffocating crash. Could this all be a dream, she thought once more. All of it, the last few weeks, my life utterly changed by you forever, my love, the magick inside us now, the magick that kisses every corner of my mind, every corner of our lives, tied together now, the beauty of everything, and you--you, so wildly beautiful, so tender to me in every instance, you, impossibly wonderful, impossibly perfect for me, and yet somewhere defiantly possible--please tell me, if it is a dream, that I’ll never wake up, that I’ll sleep for all of time inside this extraordinary, resplendent dream of you, my dearest love, Duncan--

“Kenzie. Angel. Don’t cry. You’re gonna make me--cry--” Duncan’s voice broke, and she saw the tiniest tremble in his lips, watched the clouded sky of his eyes flicker, resonate with the emotion she could feel from him like a swirling gust of wind; Kenzie, in an instant, threw her arms around him over the middle of the car seats, burying her face in his neck, the tears coming now, no way she could stop them, a little shuddering sob escaping from her. Duncan was pulling her easily into his lap, tucking her short legs over to his thighs so they fell down between the space between his bare knees, the smoothness of her skin brushing his prickly calves, her body pressing flush against his, the denim of her tiny shorts against the soft jersey of his crotch. The warmth and the scent of him--wood, jasmine--overwhelmed her more; you are no dream, my love, you never were and I know it, the time before you was a dream, the time without you when I’m away from you is a dream, and you are the only real thing in all the world. The love I feel in your arms is the only reality.

“I just--getting to be here with you, alone--fuck, baby, I’m just--”

“I know, Kenz, I know, baby. I can’t stand it either. God, I love you. I love you so much. I’m so fucking happy, Kenzie. I feel like my heart’s just going to fucking stop--”

“No fucking way. If it does, I’ll bring you back to life.” She was pulling her face away from his neck, the tears stinging her cheeks; she saw the glitter of the tears in his too before she opened her mouth against his; he cradled her low, dipping his head over her, his arm clutching at the band of her top under her breast, along the rise of her ribs, his Cartier bracelet burying into her hair, gold on tawny gold. She felt one of his tears fall down onto her cheek, sliding to pool at her throat, and Kenzie brought her fingers to his face, wiping them away as he tasted her lips with aching slowness.

Duncan, I love you. With...with every part of myself. With everything I have. He was nodding into her, his soft, entreating sounds making her feel as though she were vibrating, enveloped by him. They clutched each other for awhile; the peaceful sounds of the birds, the wind, the lake splashing far off, the rustling of the trees--that was their music. It held them, drifting into the car windows, surrounded them, made them a bed for a long moment, let them lay together inside it as they tasted each other, as their tears calmed, as Kenzie wandered away from the feeling of tears, into a heady desire for him, an abundant joy. She pulled back, her hand on his bristly jaw.

“I wanna go inside, baby. I wanna see everything and then I wanna go fucking swimming and eat lunch with you and fuck you in every fucking room and out in the grass, under the trees--”

“Kenzie, fuck, baby, we get to be here for days--fuck, I can’t believe it, I’m so fucking happy--”

Kenzie grinned and closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against his mouth--Duncan’s words bled away as he kissed her there, lips open, his thoughts rosy with her, her mind brimming over with the gold she felt for him; for the gold is my love, and it always has been. It’s me giving the best of myself to him, because I love him. I love you, Duncan. I always will. The gold is the everlasting promise of my love.

“Baby, let’s go. Show me everything.” Kenzie leaned over and pulled the handle of the driver’s side door, pushing it open with one Vans-clad foot. Duncan helped her to the ground as she slid out of his lap, his grip steady, but very tender. He slid out after her, his chest pressing into the back of her hair for a moment, his mouth kissing down on the crown of her head. Kenzie went into the backseat, grasping the golden vase that held her roses with careful fingers--this will be the first thing to go inside, the token of his love for me. Duncan grasped one of the coolers and easily hoisted it in his arms, crooking his head towards the big front double-doors made of more sturdy dark walnut. He nodded to his thigh, eyes lifting to her.

“Kenz, get the keys out of my pocket, will you?”

Kenzie gently reached into the jersey shorts, staring into his face as she did, being sure to let her fingers brush against the length of his cock as she dipped her fingers into the pocket; he shivered, biting into his lip, sending a wanton promise into her. You’re gonna get fucked, baby. I’m gonna fuck you in the wild woods under the stars, in the big fuck off bed, in the bath, fuck, everywhere. I’m gonna rip those little shorts off you and make you fucking scream as loud as you can until you lose your voice and I’m fucking deaf, angel, babylove, Princess.

Kenzie giggled nervously, her face pressing down against her roses, watching his expression morph into one of romantic longing. My queen of roses. Persephone of spring. Kenzie stepped away from him to the doorway, her Vans crunching over the gravel, and unlocked the door with a rustically-styled key--as she stepped inside she groaned, overcome with the loveliness of everything again, Duncan coming up behind her, setting the cooler just inside the door. The interior of the front room was huge, a spacious expanse she could dance across if she wanted to--there were two long couches in the center of the glossy hardwood, a huge, probably priceless dark Persian rug under them. The roof was a wildly erotic charred black--a huge pair of moose antlers were attached to one wall, the Shepherd crest on another with distinct fleur de lis. A huge, life-sized statue of Hermes in a breastplate, smiling good-naturedly, his winged feet obvious, stood in one corner; a naked Aphrodite in another, her long hair fanning out in an invisible wind behind her, her face turned up ecstatically to some unseen delight, her breasts bare. A huge stone-lined fireplace was against the center wall that adjoined with a middle hallway, an opulent black grate across it. Along the wall that faced the backyard there was a huge glass window, looking out on a long deck with a sheltered deck table and a fence, beyond it, covered in more of the round lights, with a locking gate.

“We’re turning all the fairy lights on tonight,” Kenzie said, turning to Duncan. He nodded with a smile; such a beautiful, earnest smile it was. Anything you want, Princess Kenzie. Kenzie could see the fire pit beyond the deck, its huge, coppery circular indentation distinct on an inlay of deep-set brick in the daylight, low wicker lounge chairs in tawny colors surrounding it. Beyond that was woods--dense from the look of them, though there seemed to be a marked path from what she could see from her far position, the lake stretching to the far left, blue-reflecting and wildly inviting. Plenty of time to explore, Kenzie thought. She could feel Duncan’s eyes watching her again and looked up at him, smiling. She set the roses down on a table near the entrance, bringing her hands against the fabric of his button-down, feeling his body beneath it, the coiled strength in him, the desirous tightness that was lingering there. His hands came around to the small of her back, to the bare skin there above the tiny little denim shorts she wore.

“Dunny. I love it so much.”

“Come look at the bedroom. We’ll get the other stuff in a minute.” He clutched her hand, leading her to the hall, then up a huge staircase with a black banister, a chandelier of Swarovski crystals and gold embellishments hanging at the second-floor landing. He pulled her down the wide, darkwood-paneled hall, past several empty guest rooms, one with matte black decor, one with silver, to the end, where a set of double-doors painted with gold leaf around the edges seemed to promise her something exceptional--he pushed them open and Kenzie oooohhhh’d, immediately letting go of him to run to the bed and throw herself onto it--it was so wide she felt immediately lost in the center of it, sinking down into its luxe, gold-embellished feathery spread, laughing in delight, her hair tossing into her eyes, her heart fluttering against the Tiffany moon. There was an opulent, upholstered gold panel at the head of it, and what seemed like a dozen duck feather pillows piled high against it. Silky, sheer white curtains with gold edges hung across huge bay windows along the wall--through them she could glimpse the lake, its serene surface impossibly lovely in the early afternoon streaming in. 

This room was fitted with golden decor at every turn, gold-leaf along the wide dresser and the decorative tables, each with a breathtakingly lovely decorative gold leaf laurel wreath. On one wall hung a painting in an embellished gold frame: Cupid and Psyche, Kenzie knew immediately, her breath catching. In it, Cupid pressed his lips to Psyche’s cheek, her eyes closed in ecstatic repose, his wings, here portrayed as deep purple, the color of ripe grapes, dipping around her naked form, a crown of violets in his curls, curls like Duncan’s. It was wildly lovely, and looking at it made her long for him, as though it were them painted there, not the god of passionate attachment and his lover. She glimpsed a gold-embellished bathroom through a side-door, and what looked like the side of a polished coppery-gold bathtub. She glanced up to Duncan from her prostrate position.

“This is a bed fit for a queen,” Kenzie murmured.

Fuck. I didn’t realize we’d be sleeping in a bed like this. The mere feeling of the silky spread under her bare legs was kindling desirous heat between her legs.This bed is for fucking. This bed is for getting fucked hard by your Prince’s big cock. This golden, feather-soft bed is an altar for his beautiful mouth to worship the space between your legs. This bed is for you to kneel on while you suck him dry, for you to be tied to while he works you out into wordless cries of euphoria. This bed is for you to slave over each other’s bodies, sleep until noon, and then wake up wrapped to each other’s lips, impossibly entwined, sheets tangled in intricate longings, smelling of your need for one another. Duncan was staring, listening to these thoughts from her, his gaze becoming hot and flushed, the blush of his desire spreading over his statuesque beauty.

“Good thing it finally has one in it,” he replied. Duncan had leaned on the door in his familiar tick--his eyes had darkened deeply to storms, his thoughts dipping low into heady lust, the taste of her cunt, the softness of her skin, the nectar she knew he regarded as her mouth, and Kenzie bit her lip, propping herself on her elbows. Come the fuck here and get me, then, King. Come and get your Queen.

Then Duncan was advancing on her, his arms reaching down for her with a determined look in his divinely blue eyes that made her blood freeze, and she was writhing in his strong grip, with his sudden, immediate ardency, the aching softness of the down at her back stirring warmth through her body, in dazzling streaks of sensitivity. Duncan lowered his lips to the moon at her throat, making her gasp (my moon, my moonlight, moon flower, he was thinking) and then he was drifting down to kiss between her ribs at the deep V of her wrapped, sunlight-colored top, down further to kiss her belly button, open-mouthed, his tongue licking out.

“I think,” he whispered, his large, insistent hands at the waistband of her shorts, his mouth drifting to her hipbone over the denim, “That you need to get fucked hard before we do anything else today, Princess Kenzie. I think we need to christen this bed as ours. What do you think?” His hands were pressing into her now, holding her down, drifting up to her throat, holding her against the silky, aching softness of the bed, sensing how it was stirring her, thrilling her, kindling her desire up to a high agitation.

“Uhhhuh,” Kenzie felt absolutely weak to him, lost in his adamant stare, lost in the press of the tips of his fingers, sensing that they were barely containing their powerful grip on her. The bed, the huge house, the lake, the woods--we’re finally here, she thought. And it kindles a wild lust in me, the whisper of Dionysus, urging us to abandon our senses, and fuck each other until we can’t breathe in the middle of the day on this wildly easeful bed that feels like a cloud from heaven. We don’t have anywhere to be. We don’t have to meet with anyone, we don’t have to go to work, to interviews, to see our mothers, to find bodyguards, to go to stupid Galas, to fight off paps, nothing, nowhere. Our phones are off, we’ve disappeared from the world, we’re alone, we’re together, we have days. DAYS. Holy fuck, baby. Holy fucking fuck.

“Duncan,” Kenzie whispered, and she whimpered, long and low, and his mouth was pressing, hot, aching, at her throat, and his devotion was like a knife, and she wanted it plunged deep into her body.

“Oh my fucking goddess, baby--fucking fuck me.”

[kingfckr]

Is Billy buying people things for christmas?

*BILLY’S BUYING GUIDE THIS HOLIDAY SEASON 

 Have you ever wanted to shop the Billy Hargrove way ? Well like Operah has her top 50 items that you need this Holiday Season , so does our resident asshole . He’s not very rich - so a lot of things are either lifted , bought , or made: 

Vicky: he’s built her something . he can’t actually get her anything quality ...because hey lets face it she’s way richer than him . Instead he’s made her a really nice Jewelry Box to put all her expensive jewelry in . It’s carved so it looks like a lace top .  He didn’t know what to get her and since he can’t kidnap Patrick Swayze (and he hates the guy) he’ll have to settle for a made gift . 

Carol:  Carol was honestly the easiest . He moved into Murrays apartment above the shop a few days after Christmas (the phone bill incident) and while he got her a nice bracelet from the pawn shop a few towns over , he ended up picking up a pair of pink sheets and if she ever needs to get out o the house she has sheets and can take his bed . 

Tommy: He lifted some tickets off a scalper of his favorite band that’s coming to town soon. He also slips him a Key to the place , but as a bro you don’t talk about it . 

Lydia: She gets a few records that he did not actually lift .  However , he totally found her a nice leather jacket that he lifted from a shop in the city .  He wants to get her something nice . 

Daniela: He made her a ballet bar for her room that is movable and easy to install . 

Mrs. Wheeler: He bought her a trick book that’s one of those really smutty romance novels . He also bought them tickets to a concert that he’s taking her too because Ted’s away at a golf tournament that weekend . (fucking ted) . 

Steve: those condoms that ended up in his locker with the good luck note on it . Billy 

Jonathan: he got the same thing as above except his were ribbed for her pleasure . - anonymous gifts of course . 

[coppolafrancis]

What Exactly Is High Jewelry

You might have heard the term “high jewelry” bandied about as you’ve gotten into the auction world. Or, in French, haute joaillerie.

What exactly is high jewelry, and how does it differ from any other fine jewelry? It’s not just a synonym for expensive jewelry, although it’s safe to say that high jewelry is likely to be very expensive.

When I sat down to write this post, I realized I don’t know what officially defines high jewelry either, and that’s with 35 years’ experience in the fine jewelry industry. I know what it is, of course, but to find a single definition that everyone agrees on? Not so much.

As it turns out, the definition of “high jewelry” is a little like pornography: you can’t really define it, but you know it when you see it. And thankfully it’s a lot easier to explain than pornography.

Nobody in the industry will deny that high jewelry should contain only the finest quality of rare gems and precious metal, be of distinctive design and exquisite craftsmanship (presumably handmade), probably comes from a famous designer or jewelry house, and so on. With all that, it’s obviously costly and it also holds its value. A very rare or bespoke piece is even quite likely to gain value, not just hold it.

How much value will it gain? Well, that depends on a lot, as we’ll see. And as if the already-subjective definition of high jewelry weren’t confusing enough, it also varies from U.S. to overseas, says jewelry historian Elizabeth Bonanno.

Are material, workmanship, and signature all that define high jewelry? Especially when many famous jewelry designers combine precious and non-precious materials and renowned international luxury jewelry houses also make pieces for ordinary people, not just rich or royal?

Tiffany & Co. still makes high jewelry pieces, but more of its revenue comes from mass-produced silver and gold pieces. Lovely, yes. High jewelry, no. Its website clearly differentiates its “high jewelry” from other pieces. Chopard’s website does the same, as does pretty much every single brand that offers both high jewelry and more affordable collections for the rest of us.

Cartier’s “Love” bracelet is a popular item and, as gold bangles go, expensive for its size and weight because of its provenance. It’s well made, clearly fine, and likely to fetch more in resale than a generic gold bangle because of the Cartier name—but it’s not high jewelry even if it is Cartier. Cartier’s diamond encrusted Panthère cuff, however? Definitely high jewelry! And those cats will hold their value even though Cartier has made a good number of them.

If you want to see a lot of high jewelry in one place, then the Place Vendôme in Paris is the best place to go. Originally laid out in 1702 as a monument to the successes of the army of King Louis XIV, the grandeur and exclusivity of the square (in the city’s tony First Arrondisement) attracted leading global luxury brands to set up shop there, especially jewelry, watches, and hotels. Many of the jewelry brands represented on the square are French and those are their flagship shops, but international brands are represented as well with their French outposts on the square. Some of the brands on the Place Vendôme or nearby Rue de la Paix include: Cartier, Chopard, Chaumet, Buccellati, Tiffany, Bvlgari, Boucheron, Bucherer, Breguet, Van Cleef & Arpels, Piaget, Patek Philippe, Vernet, Mauboussin, Jaeger-LeCoultre, and fashion brands Dior and Chanel, both of whom have high-jewelry collections.

And if you can somehow get an appointment (don’t count on it!) the number-one contemporary jewelry artist that global experts agree defines modern high jewelry is JAR. JAR (Joel Arthur Rosenthal) is an American-born artist who has lived and worked in Paris since the 1970s. He is to contemporary jewelry what Peter Carl Fabergé was to the latter 19th/early 20th century.

The notoriously reclusive jeweler not only routinely refuses to be interviewed, he doesn’t advertise, his shop has no display window, he only lets in a few very select clients, and he’s also been known to refuse to sell a piece—for any price—when he doesn’t think the buyer has enough artistic appreciation or taste to own it.

So if high jewelry is defined at least in part by the quality of its material, what about when a revered jewelry artist makes a piece that isn’t entirely precious? For instance, the American Daniel Brush is among those contemporary jewelry artists generally regarded by experts as someone whose work is collectible and likely to fetch very high premiums in resale. But Brush—goldsmith, sculptor, painter, jeweler—has been known to mix materials like pink diamonds and Bakelite, as he does in his famous “Bunny Bangle,” or even to use stainless steel or aluminum in his creations, which are considered art as much as they are jewelry. Nobody (at least nobody in their right mind) would start bargaining him down over it.

Nor is Brush alone in his willingness to use nontraditional jewelry materials. If there’s one defining characteristic of modern jewelry design—high or otherwise—the willingness to mix ultra-fine materials with mundane, quite ordinary materials would have to be it. Whether it’s then still considered “high jewelry” depends on the artist that made it.

Along with JAR and Brush, Wallace Chan and Carnet’s Michelle Ong are universally put into the “high jewelry” category. Closer to home, Oscar Heyman — often called “the jeweler’s jeweler” for making high jewelry for other brands in their New York City atelier, along with their own collections—is another. Billy Porter is a huge fan and routinely decks out in OHB for his red-carpet appearances. We’ll look at these and other high jewelry brands in greater detail in upcoming posts.

As a final note, this discussion of “high jewelry” is in no way meant to downplay the value of high-end commercially available designers and brands. There are many, many names that fall into this category — Paul Morelli, Wendy Yue, Stephen Webster, to name just a few—whose work is currently available at fine jewelry and specialty stores, who also do high jewelry and bespoke pieces on request, and whose pieces are likely to hold their value for resale. We’ll look at some of those brands in upcoming posts as well. When choosing your rose gold wedding rings, remember to showcase your charm and you will be surprised what you will learn about the people who notice. 

[kxmberlyhart]

Trimberly Prompt: How about one where like Trini meets Kim's parents for the first time since they've been dating and smfn comes up about the Power Rangers and one of Kim's parents makes a comment about the Pink and Yellow Rangers being close and like winks at the two of them coz they both know that Kim and Trini are Rangers. And then when they're leaving one of them says something like say hi to the other 3 or some shit like that and Trimberly are both like ????how tf did they know???

“How tf do they know?”

Rating: G i guess

Tags: Uh… mention of homophobia. Some language… that’s it i guess.

Read @ Ao3

Notes: I feel like I didn’t really do this prompt that much justice since the parents part is like less than half the story. But enjoy it, nonetheless… I hope asfgfdhgfjhgkjhlkj;lk sorry if you’re disappointed anon.

Yellow beanie. Pink rings. Yellow shoes. Pink skirts. Yellow shirt. Pink bracelet. Yellow necklace. Trini and Kim just had to wear something that identifies with their ranger color. Why? It represents who they are.

The boys wear their colors too. Of course, it was much easier to wear black, blue, and red and coordinate it with other clothing but pink and yellow are a bit more out there.

Of course, after the power rangers bitch slapped Rita outer space, they laid low for a little while, knowing everyone will be looking for a group of five, three boys and two girls. That didn’t stop them from wearing their colors, in fact, half the two was showing their support for the Rangers by wearing one of the colors, or all.

This gave the two girls some alone time by themselves and eventually built a romantic relationship out of it.

Pink and yellow made it to each other’s wardrobes. The two girls just had to wear something of their color and their significant other’s color.

Zack noticed first. He waved it off when he saw Trini wear pink and Kim wear yellow. He thought it was some weird coincidence. Then it became a frequent occurrence. Zack watched them closely, they were definitely closer than before. He saw them by Trini’s rock, kissing and he yelled at the two of them “I SUPPORT YOU GUYS!” He yelled from his train car, waving one arm high up in the air and the other holding binoculars.

So the next time they see Jason and Billy, Zack wrapped an arm around their shoulders, “Look, our two girls are dating” he told his teammates in an inexplicable joy. The two girls looked at each other with a heavy blush then held each other’s hand then smiled at their teammates at the acceptance.

—

Two months into the relationship, they continue to fight together as Rangers whenever putties would continue to attack, as aftermath of Rita’s attack. The relationship is still going strong and they are happier than ever.

Kim had pitched the idea that Trini should meet her parents.

“They’re both off this Sunday, it’s rare to have them both have the same day off because of their demanding jobs.” Kim starts off, wrapping an arm around Trini who stopped reading her biology book. Trini turned around and faced Kim, half lying down, half sitting up position, an arm wrapped around her sitting form on the bed. “If you don’t want to that’s completely fine.”

“Okay…” Trini speaks softly, nervousness ran through her entire body but having Kim’s protective arm around her gave her confidence to say yes. Trini doesn’t trust parents, not hers at least, but Kim speaks of her parents at smart and liberated, accepting Kim for who she is. Kim is in fact, not a perfect daughter, but her parents had showered her with as much love as they can, despite their busy schedule.

“Great!” Kim sits up then plants a kiss on Trini’s cheek from behind.

“As long as you give us time to meet mine… or be prepared to not meet mine at all” Trini takes hold of Kim’s hand, “Cause you know… They’re… Uhm…” Trini closed her eyes trying to find the words but struggles and fails

“It’s okay, baby. I get it”

—

Kim had told her parents to cook a special meal for Sunday. They agreed on cooking Maddy’s special curry, which Maddy had to drive two hours to get ingredient for. Ted cooked his famous fall off the bone ribs with a bunch of indian spices.

Kim and Trini sat inside Kim’s white (with a pink strip) Mercedes. Kim held Trini’s hand to help her get rid of the nervousness, comforting Trini that everything will be fine and that Kim’s parents will love her.

“I’m home” Kim announces as they get through the door, holding Trini’s small dainty hand. The aroma of indian spices runs through their noses and follows where it’s coming from.

The two walk in the dining area and sees Kim’s parents setting the food down in the middle. Trini noticed the giant table with four plates, one especially reserved for her.

“Mom… Dad…” Kim starts, looks down at Trini, smiles, then back up to meet her parent’s eyes, “This is Trini Gomez, she’s my girlfriend” Kim releases Trini’s hand and meets the small of her back, pushing her a little to meet her parents.

“P-pleasure to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Hart” Trini takes small steps until she meets Maddy and Ted and shakes their hand.

“Aww, aren’t you a cutie-pie” Maddy drops her hand from the handshake and then pulls Trini into a hug.

—

Halfway through dinner, Trini felt comfortable with dining with Kim and her parents to the point where she would actually speak up when she has something relevant to say regarding whatever topic it was. Right now, the topic of interest are the Power Rangers

“Oh man… When the gold thing attacked, I was on call 24/7. I constantly worried about Kim, she wouldn’t answer her phone, I finally got a chance to take a break and head home to check on my daughter… She’s fast asleep… Like she missed the entire thing” Maddy pointed out about her daughter.

“I told you, mom, I didn’t even know what happened” Kim took a bite out of her food then sending a small glance to Trini.

“So, who is your favorite Power Rangers?” Ted had asked both girls, they take a small look towards each other.

“Pink” Trini started.

“Yellow” Kim mentioned at the same time. They glanced at each other then blushed.

“You know, ever since the Power Rangers came, I’ve been seeing you wear a lot of pink, Kimmy” Ted pointed his fork towards Kim. “For all I know you could be the pink ranger” Trini almost chokes but Kim immediately grabbed the water for her.

“I mean…” Kim started, avoiding her parent’s gaze, “it’s just a color, dad”

“That’s true… What about the matching pink and yellow attires? You and Trini seem to have some right now” Maddy pointed out this time. Out of the corner of Kim’s eye, she sees her dad staring, she looks up at him and sees him give a small wink at the pink and yellow reference which confused the hell out of Kim.

Right on time, Kim and Trini felt their phone vibrate, both taking them out.

“Putties at 5th and Shell st. Get here as soon as you can.” A message from Jason came to the group chat.

“Uhm…” Kim starts

“I have a curfew… I have to go soon. Thank you for the dinner, it’s fantastic” Trini had said in a rush, standing up from her seat. “I hope this isn’t a bad impression or anything…” Trini continues to ramble on until Maddy gets up from her seat.

“It’s okay, sweetheart” Maddy walks towards Trini and gives her a hug, “We’d love to have you back again for dinner, okay?”

Trini smiles widely. “Of course!”

“Pink and Yellow are kind of needed now, you two should get out of here” Ted had gotten up from his seat and pats his belly, filled with food.

“What are you talking about, dad?” Kim places a hand on the small of Trini’s back, grabbing her keys placed right next to her.

“Nothing… Just say hi to the other three for me” Ted exits out the dining room and into the living room.

“We should go…” Kim starts leading Trini towards the front of the house.

“Stay safe out there!” Maddy called out, watching the two girls walk out the door from the living room with her husband.

The house becomes silent when the two girls leave.

“They’re obviously the Rangers” Maddy says, sitting down next to her husband.

“Should we question them?”

“No, knowing Kim she will tell us if we ever need to know”

—

Kim and Trini enters Kim’s car with the look of confusion on both of their faces.

“That was some weird shit that just went on”