#there’s never any ‘lol look at these stupid men being men’ everything is very tender and a little bit daft

[hacash]

Isaac’s sulky little ‘no’ when Colin teases him about being unable to say I love you was so precious, particularly for a show that critiques toxic masculinity so well but also meets characters where they are and doesn’t mock characters for not being up to scratch

it was very much a moment of nope I’m not doing anymore emotional growth here I’ve done enough for today, yes I know it’s stupid but don’t make me leave my comfort zone (but also you know I love you you pillock just so we’re on the same page ok?) and it nearly had me in tears

[jackrrabbit]

Runaways /// Dabi x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You were like an older sister to Dabi back when the two of you were teen runaways together; now that he’s found you as an adult, it’s not going to be so easy to get rid of him.

A/N: I could write a term paper on all of Dabi’s pathologies in this fic...I forgot how much I love writing smutty angst. Good shit 👌

I was planning on making this a ficlet so it’s kinda structured like that even though it ended up a full-length piece. Also, Dabi says some bullshit about sex work that I absolutely do not agree with or condone so please keep that in mind.

➠ see also: [homeowners association]

Tags/warnings: Dabi victimizes you, noncon/dubcon, light yandere, threats, cheating, NTR kinda?, mentions of past sex work, degradation, rough sex (breath play, impact play, crying), mild violence, very brief mentions of past child abuse in the Todoroki household, sad stuff/angst idk lol, *Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood plays in the background*

Dabi would know you anywhere.

You’re different now, which makes sense. It’s been years. Your old uniform of raggedy denim and hand-me-down leather has been replaced with a prim linen dress, designer label at the collar. You used to dye your hair religiously (it was neon pink when he saw you last) but now it’s styled back to your natural shade, a color he only saw back then when your roots grew out. You smell good, expensive. It does take him a second to recognize you without smudged pencil eyeliner drawn under your eyes like in the old days, but once he catches your gaze the realization is immediate.

It’s you. You. You.

You recognize him too, but your reaction is different—shock, then panic; you tug the arm of the man at your side, urging him to walk faster so you can pass Dabi on the sidewalk. The rejection stings for a second, but he isn’t too surprised. You did abandon him, after all.

Dabi doesn’t let it bother him. You’re not going to get away that easy. He pulls you into conversation, grinning when you reluctantly introduce him to your companion (who is, apparently, your husband) as an old friend from school. You didn’t go to school—Dabi knows that, and you know that, but your husband doesn’t. Which means your husband isn’t aware of your sordid past as a runaway.

This is going to be fun.

Once he knows you’re in town, he doesn’t have much trouble finding you. Your husband is a very wealthy man, well-known in this city now that he’s moved here. So this is what you’ve been up to all these years? Shacking up with some ugly motherfucker who’s at least 20 years your senior because he can afford to dress you up in pretty things and take you on overseas vacations? Dabi has to admit, he wouldn’t have thought it of you. Back when he knew you, you were so sincere, such an idealist, even in your darkest nights.

Then again…you always were willing to get your hands dirty in exchange for a warm meal and a place to sleep. Maybe you haven’t changed as much as you think.

Dabi comes to your house in the middle of the day when your husband’s at work and you’re stuck at home because that’s what you are now, a housewife. From a cocksucking whore to a pretty housewife with a dirty little secret. He’s getting hard just thinking about it as he watches your internal debate on whether to let him in or not. Eventually guilt wins out and you usher him inside, hoping the neighbors didn’t see a known villain lurking on your doorstep.

You make Dabi coffee (and aww, you remember exactly how he likes it). He gets you to talking, and you don’t seen surprised to learn about his current line of work; when he presses you, you admit that you’ve been following him in the news. Your life, in comparison, has been wholly uninteresting: you met a man, he proposed, and you married him. Very little has happened to you since. After a long silence you timidly apologize to Dabi for leaving him behind when you two were teenagers, and he tells you he understands.

He doesn’t forgive you.

Overall, things are good, he tells you. But you know, sometimes he misses the old days. Being on the run with you, stealing food from gas stations, breaking into fancy summer homes and pretending the two of you lived there. Stitching up each other’s cuts, because one of you had always gotten in a fight in the past few days. Sometimes he still has dreams about the smell of the balm you used on his fresh burns…and your cool hands, smoothing gently across the tender skin on his face, but he doesn’t say that.

You look down into your monogrammed coffee mug and tell him you know what he means.

When you turn your head like that, Dabi can see the tiny dots running up the side of your ear where your old piercings have scarred over from lack of use. Do you remember when he gave them to you? You did his first, running a needle through the lonely flame of your lighter (he offered to use his quirk, but it was still hard for him to control then so you declined) and then threading the metal through his ear. You promised it would only hurt for a second, and you were right, so he let you do the others.

Then you offered to let him do yours. Just one on each ear��you already had an impressive collection of piercings, but you wanted to let him return the favor, so he did. You were older and more experienced and had lived on the streets for longer, so when he held the needle in his hand and heard your voice saying you trusted him, it was the first time he ever thought of you as fragile, something delicate, something that he was capable of harming.

He chose twin helix piercings for you, cresting the shell of each ear, silver band rings to match his. When they were done you pulled him to a mirror and asked him what he thought. It hadn’t been long since he got the worst burns on his face (the ones under his eyes, wrapping around his chin and down his neck) and he was still getting used to the knowledge that the ugly, wrinkled scars were never going to heal. “I look like…” he started.

A monster. A freak. A victim.

“A badass,” you said. “You look fucking cool. Any asshole who wants to pick a fight with you will take one look and know you’ve been through worse shit than whatever they can dish out, and that’s something to be proud of.”

Now that Dabi thinks about it, he probably wanted you even then.

…But the longer he reminisces, the more nostalgia’s going to distract him. He came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to have coffee with you and talk about the good old days. What he’s about to take from you—what he’s about to make you give—is long overdue.

You’ve still got a little fight in you. Dabi likes that. But you’ve gone soft, filling out and losing muscle in places where you used to be lean and hard from the constant running and fighting of your old lifestyle. Besides, even if you were as strong as you’d been back then, he’d still be stronger than you—he’s a man now, and it’s incredible how small and weak you seem now that he can look at you as a man.

Were your punches always this light? No way…and your wrists couldn’t have always been this delicate. It’s really no trouble at all for him to wrestle you down to the couch and pin you there so he can tear off your stupid little housewife dress and tug your panties down past your ankles.

Once he’s got you fully naked, though, you pretty much give up trying to fight him off. It’s sad, really—like you’re remembering the past, remembering all the times you let other men hold you and fuck you just so you could have enough money to take yourself and Dabi to McDonalds for a few days. And now look, you’re plenty well-fed, but Dabi’s the one holding you down against your will. Funny how things change like that.

He does appreciate your submission, since it gives him the chance to get a decent look at you. The years have been kind—you look so much healthier than you used to. No more visible ribcage stretching out your skin; no more unhealthy pallor from going outside only at night. Your hands are as soft and manicured as if you’ve never done a day’s work in your life, a far cry from the bitten nails and bloody knuckles of your youth. It’s good to see you like this, and he lingers for a second, drinking in the sight of you and committing you to memory.

Dabi’s pictured this moment for years. He used to think he’d savor it, be sweet with you, slow and gentle to show you what you were missing with the trashy guys you used to hang out with. But now, hey—he’s the trashy one, he’s the one who wants to hurt you and own you and ruin you. May as well act like it.

Your husband doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?

You’re unbelievably tight for a former whore. Dabi can barely hold out when he first pushes into you, licking the tears off your cheeks when apparently it hurts too much for you to keep up a brave face. It takes real effort to fuck himself all the way into you, pushing past the tense squeeze of your muscles while you…well, you’re not exactly wet, but he’ll get you there. As soon as his hips are grinding up against yours, he’s hitching your legs up on his shoulders and pounding you into your stuffy antique couch so deeply that he thinks it might splinter into pieces underneath the two of you.

God, you’re so, so, tight. Dabi feels like a virgin with his cock buried inside you, biting his lip so he doesn’t cum in thirty seconds and thrusting into you with a rhythm that comes from nothing less than pure animal instinct. And you’re getting into it too. Can you tell that your pleading and begging him to get off you is turning into moaning? Can you feel your hips bucking weakly back against his, reverting to the position of the submissive bitch your body remembers even if your mind has tried to forget?

It’s perfect, right and good and perfect, everything Dabi’s been waiting for since he first knew what it was to want someone—no, not just someone. You. It’s always been you. A person never forgets their first love, right? It’s perfect, except—except you won’t look at him, you keep looking off to the side and sniffling, and that’s not going to cut it. So he slows down and wrenches your head back to center and makes you kiss him, sliding his tongue over yours and trying to see if he can feel the place where you used to have a piercing there, too. It’s kind of thrilling, actually—wondering whenever his face dips into yours if you’re going to bite him, if he’ll come back from you with blood in his mouth.

He’s only got to thumb over your clit a couple times before you’re clamping down on him, your body begging to be used and abused. Your husband hasn’t been treating you right, though Dabi doubts the old bastard can even get it up without a blue pill. Sure, you look like a sweet little doll, so darling and delicate and breakable, but Dabi knows you better than that. You’re strong, you can take it. He knows you want it rough, so that’s how he’ll give it to you—and hey, hey, he can feel your cunt quivering around him—you’re cumming, aren’t you? So you like it. You like it.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long before, but when you cum and tighten and squeal so high he thinks you could lose your voice, the tension in his abdomen rises up and he digs his fingers into your hips and—shit, you’re saying something, what are you saying? You’re pleading, begging him not to cum inside—but, ohhhhhh fuck he can’t help it, he can’t, he can’t, he’s cumming all the way deep into your tight little snatch, cockhead jutting up at your cervix, fucking his semen all the way through you until your slit is smeared white from top to bottom.

Stop crying. Dabi’s sick of hearing you cry.

You’re still pretty nimble, even though your current exercise regimen probably doesn’t extend beyond periodic jogs around your neighborhood and weekly pilates with all the other bored trophy wives. He’s kind of surprised when as soon as he lifts himself off of you, you have the strength to roll off the couch and scramble around on the floor for your clothing.

You don’t say anything, which he wasn’t expecting. You don’t scream at him, demand that he leave, or ask him how he could do this to you after everything the two of you went through together. You probably still think of yourself as an older sister when it comes to him.

When you’d first met the scarred kid trying and failing to live off the streets, you knew he wasn’t cut out for this. He’d known pain before, plenty of pain (icy-blue fire roasting the skin off his face—spiral fracture from callused hands twisting his arm behind his back—cold, aching muscles after what he thinks is the fifth hour spent locked in a closet), but he’d never known hunger. Hunger was a different kind of beast, one that would chew the kid up and spit him out and leave him broken if you didn’t take him under your wing, so you did.

It wasn’t like you had much of anything to spare, but you made it work. For a few years. He didn’t talk at first, but he took what you gave him, so you gave him what you could: food, if you had it; a place to sleep at night; the knowledge you’d gathered in your own years as a runaway on how he was supposed to survive in a world that didn’t care whether he lived or rotted away in a gutter. You cared.

Until you didn’t.

‘Going to be traveling alone for a while. Don’t wait for me. I’m sorry,’ your note had read. You left it in his backpack along with $43 in cash—not much, but he knew it was more than you could afford. It was all you had.

And now you have all of this! Don’t you feel lucky? You have the rich husband who barely looks at you, the big house with so many empty unused rooms it makes him sick, more food than you could possibly eat in one lifetime. All of that, and you also have Dabi’s semen leaking out of your cunt. It’s a real rags-to-riches story, he thinks.

Dabi picks a cigarette out of his jacket and you stop fixing up the buttons on your dress to ask him not to light it inside. How will you explain the smell to your husband? Every move you make, every syllable that comes out of your mouth, is weighed down by despair. You look like you’ve been beaten.

He lights the cigarette anyway.

///

Before he had you the first time, Dabi thought once would be enough. Pretty naive, huh?

He makes it his mission to fuck you in every room of your husband’s gluttonously enormous mansion (what with your history Dabi has a hard time thinking of the house as yours, and considering the way you tiptoe around and seem like you’re afraid to move so much as a vase, he suspects you feel the same). There’s a lot of rooms.

When he shows up at your door again you don’t even bother to hear him out, instead just trying to shut it on him, but he forces his way in. You wouldn’t want to make him mad, would you? Not when he’s got such a filthy secret hanging over your head? Will your husband keep paying for your designer shopping trips when he knows you’re a street rat who used to steal everything she wore? Will he still kiss you goodnight when Dabi tells him you used to wrap those pretty lips around strangers’ cocks for money?

If you want Dabi to keep quiet, you’re going to have to convince him the best way you know how. A cockwhore is a cockwhore. That’s not the kind of stain you get to wipe away with time and distance and expensive clothing.

In the kitchen: standing up, your back to his front and your hands barely holding you up on the counter, so hard and rough and deep that the dishes are rattling in the pantry. One of your teacups falls out of the glass china cabinet and shatters into a million fragments in a four foot radius over the tiled floor. Neither of you notice until after. Blunt red lines press themselves into the tops of your thighs where he’s shoving your body into the edge of the counter and there are bruises on your tits from how hard he’s groping you.

In the dining room: sitting on the edge of the table, one of your legs hiked up beside you and the other on a chair while Dabi kneels on the ground in front of you, his head between your thighs and his tongue flicking over your pussy. You start off thinking that you’re going to have to sanitize the entire mahogany surface before you can eat off it again and then he licks his lips and sucks on your throbbing clit and you don’t really think about anything else after that.

In your husband’s study: doggy-style on the floor in front of the fireplace, facedown, his body folded over yours, pressing you so deep into the tacky lion-skin rug that you can taste it. He sighs in your ear—actually, you’re not sure if it’s a sigh or a growl—and his hand comes up to cover yours. You feel the metal stitches and the rough burned skin scraping on your own and it reminds you that it’s him. It’s Dabi.

(A few days after his 13th birthday, the Dabi you used to know told you that he was going to dye his hair—he wanted to be unrecognizable, and you understood, so you found some old scissors and stole hair dye from the pharmacy and you spent three long hours chopping his hair into rough spikes and painting it black. When you washed the dye out of his hair in the sink, your hands were stained inky black too. When he saw, he looked worried and weaved his fingers in with yours and asked if the dye would hurt your skin if it stayed on too long.

And you looked back at this kid—small for his age then, burned by his own quirk, trying so hard to look older and tougher than any 13-year-old should have to be, and you thought to yourself, I would die for you.)

Now you hear Dabi growling out your name and squeezing your hand as he reaches his climax and you think, I would kill you if I could.

///

Dabi saves the master bedroom for last.

Your husband is hosting a party at your house. Dabi knows because you begged him not to come today, looking up at him with those doe-like eyes, offering things you never would have offered if it weren’t important to you that he stay away on this particular evening. But he still comes to crash it. He arrives just minutes before your husband does, and you have barely enough time to tuck him away on the dark bedroom balcony and pull the curtains closed before your husband is opening the door and greeting you.

Dabi settles himself into one of the tasteful Adirondack chairs on the balcony and listens to your voice, or at least what he can hear of it through the sliding glass door. You’re sweeter with your husband than you are with Dabi, and he should’ve known you’d be, but it still makes him hate your husband more than he already did.

On the other hand, there’s something strained and high and nervous in the way you’re speaking. Probably because your husband is standing about twenty feet away from the man you’re cheating on him with.

It takes a while for the two of you to dress for the party, but finally Dabi hears you tell your husband that you’d like to take a little longer to get ready and bid him goodbye. “Love you,” you say to the old man as he leaves the room, so casually Dabi might not have heard it if he wasn’t listening.

Then you’re opening the door and ushering him inside and telling him anxiously that he has to get out before anyone sees him. But, oh, you look nice like this, dolled up in your evening gown and makeup and diamonds, trying to pull him to the door even though you must know by now that he’s not going to leave it there. Instead of following, he backs you up onto the bed and peels down the straps of your dress and slides his hands up under the skirt, and all the while he can’t stop thinking about what you said to your husband.

You used to say that to Dabi.

The first time it was an accident—you’d mentioned it off-hand during a night when it was snowing and his unnaturally high body temperature was the only thing keeping the two of you alive. “God, I love you,” you’d said, draping your arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close to share his heat.

It had stunned him and you could probably tell. Maybe the next few times were just you taking pity on a kid who had never been told so casually and so simply that he was loved. But eventually you meant it, the little love you’s before you went to sleep or when one of you went off to do something alone for a few days—a familial love borne of mutual reliance. For the years Dabi was a runaway with you, you were the only person he could trust, and he knows the feeling was mutual.

Now he wants you to tell him you love him again.

It would be hot, wouldn’t it? You telling Dabi you love him while he forces you into a mating press on the bed you share with your husband. Isn’t that hot? You’re never going to be able to sleep on these sheets again without remembering his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, his cock filling you in ways you haven’t been filled since you were 19.

How are you gonna lay next to your husband in this sad cold bed? ‘Cause that old fuck isn’t touching you, Dabi knows that much—if he was, he’d’ve noticed by now that you’re always covered in bite marks and hickeys that he didn’t give you. How are you gonna sleep at night knowing what a nasty slut you are, telling another man you love him?

So say it. Say you love him.

Oh, you’re going to be like that, aren’t you? What did he tell you about being a fucking brat when he’s talking to you? See if you’re still so defiant when he’s got his hand stroking the length of that pretty throat and then sealing down on it, squeezing gently on the veins running up the sides of your neck, not too hard, but enough that you’re probably getting a little dizzy while he continues to fuck into you. Does it hurt? Your face is turning pink. Uh-uh-uh, don’t try to pull his hand off, or he’ll show you just how good he is with his quirk these days.

You’re trying to choke out the words but you can’t quite make them make sense. There’s something endearing about the way your whimpers vibrate through the skin of Dabi’s palm, how he can hear you as well as feeling you. Oh—could you say his name too? He knows you’re feeling all fucked-out and wet and sloppy, every moan rising and falling in time with his cock stretching your pussy open, but can’t you give it a little more effort? He’s sure you can get his name out if you really try.

And if you’re not going to cooperate, Dabi may as well just dig the heel of his knuckle into your windpipe, because you really do tighten up so deliciously when you cough and sputter like that. Fuck, if you keep doing that, he’s going to cum, gonna cum right here in your syrupy pussy and spill it all over your marriage bed—but no, he wants to hear you say it first, so when you’re gagging and turning red and your eyes are watering he finally stops choking you, loosening his grip just enough that his hand is resting on your neck in a lover’s touch. It takes you a second and your voice is so hoarse he can barely hear it, but then you’re speaking and something jumps in his chest—

“I…I love—love y-you, Touya!” you sob. “I love you! I—love you, Touya—Touya—Touya—!”

And ah fuck it’s almost exactly right, your voice saying you love him, saying his real name, a name he hasn’t heard for years because you’re the only one who really knows it anymore—but you’re crying, real heavy sobs while you gulp in frantic lungfuls of oxygen. Your ribcage is heaving underneath him and—god, fuck—your guts are clenching, sucking down on every inch of his cock, every vein—

—oh shit fuck fuck he’s cumming, and he presses his face into your neck, into your hair, kissing you and thinking I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you—

—please stay, forever.

///

When he’s done, he goes for another round just to make sure you’re going to have cum dripping down your thighs when you go back to the party. No panties, unless you want him to walk through the grand foyer with all the other guests on his way out.

You don’t look at him as you fix your dress and your hair and wipe at your smeared makeup. With your eyeliner rubbed down to the bottom of your eyes, Dabi’s reminded a little of how you used to look—and the reminder is doubled when you slide your legs across the side of the bed and limp over to your vanity, walking hesitantly, your hips rocking from side to side. Damn, did he fuck you that hard?

Reminds him of the old days, you shuffling back to the hideout with that same awkward pain in your gait, purple marks around your neck, and a dim smile decorating your face—for his sake. Oh, and cash in your pockets. You’d tell him that the two of you were going out to eat that night and refuse to let him look at the injuries. God, it made him angry, it still makes him angry just thinking about it—angry at the men who bought you for treating you like that, angry at you for letting them. Angry at himself for not being old enough or strong enough or rich enough to stop them.

Anger, yes…and other things too. There had been a sick, insidious part of him that wanted to be in their position. He’d hated himself for it back then, until you left and the desire to punish you for abandoning him got twisted up with the desire to own you and keep you his. Maybe if he let himself think about it, he’d still hate himself for what he’s doing to you.

By now, you’re too good at covering up the bruises. A sweep of foundation and powder passes over each hickey he left on your throat and it’s like he never touched you. You have to push him off the bed so you can strip the sheets and replace them. When you’re done, you tell him to wait a few minutes after you leave to sneak out the back and he makes another half-joke about joining the party and introducing himself to your old man—

—and you shove him up against the wall with all the strength left in you, wrap your hand around his neck, and dig your fingernails under the line of piercings in his cheek. If he even looks at your husband, if he even thinks about it, you’ll rip his goddamn face open, you tell him in a low snarl.

It’s an empty threat (you and he both know who would win in a physical altercation) but there’s real hatred behind it. Dabi hasn’t seen that kind of fire in your eyes since he found out you became a trophy wife. It makes him want to have you again so he does, pulling your arms away from his face, standing and holding you up against the door to your bedroom, forcing you to wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him to keep from falling.

He’s lubed up by his own cum, and the wet squelching of your pussy just reminds him what a mess you’re going to be when you return to high society tonight. Maybe your husband will be able to smell it on you—the cum, the sex, the other man who’s been keeping his darling wife warm while he’s at work.

Well, probably not. If that stupid fucking cuckold hasn’t figured it out by now, there’s not much of a chance he’ll get it on his own. As Dabi sinks into your tight, gummy cunt again, he decides that he might just have to help the process along. A man deserves to know if his wife is being unfaithful, right?

///

Your husband’s office phone number is written on a post-it note that’s tacked to the desk of his study. It takes Dabi 40 minutes and $30 to buy a burner cell phone, leave a message on the man’s voicemail, and toss the burner in the kitchen trash at your house while you’re in the shower.

The message is short and straightforward. Dabi introduces himself as ‘the man who’s sleeping with your wife’, describes the floor plan of your husband’s house and what position he fucked you in for each room, and finally finishes it off with the evidence—the precise size and location of every hickey he’s left on your body that will still be visible by the time your husband returns from work.

Dabi almost wishes your husband had picked up the call—he’d’ve had a good time explaining in pornographic detail the way your tits look under those too-formal dresses, the way you moan when you cum in his mouth, the way you told him you loved him while he choked you out—with your husband in the house, no less. But this is fine too.

Besides, it’ll be so fucking funny if someone else at your husband’s company hears the message before he does.

///

Whore. Your husband called you a whore.

You’ve been called a whore a lot, actually. More than most people. You should be used to it by now. But it’s different when your husband says it. Your husband, the man who rescued you from a life of poverty and starvation, the man who has given you everything you own, the man who slid a ring onto your finger under a wedding arch and promised to love you in good times and in bad. The man you’ve almost convinced yourself you love back.

He called you a whore and slapped you when you tried to explain yourself and shoved you out the door and locked it. You can still hear his voice telling you the only place he wants to see your face again is in a casket.

So that’s why when Dabi comes to collect you, you’re hugging your knees to your chest on your front porch in your shiny lace-edged slip nightdress, hair in a mess around your head and your lip bleeding onto your chin. Your feet are so cold—your husband didn’t even give you time to put shoes on before he threw you out.

The night is cool and dark but the porch light buzzes on for half a minute when Dabi climbs up the steps to come crouch next to you on the doorstep. You try not to look at him, but he tilts your face toward his, electric-blue eyes skimming over the red mark and blue-black discoloration blossoming across your cheekbone; the blood drying on your split lip.

Dabi asks calmly if your husband hit you, and you nod.

Good, he tells you, and his body lights up blue in a roiling cloud of flames. He’s been waiting for an excuse to kill that old fuck.

The fire is like lightning, bright and ghostly in the darkness. The crackling of the flame eats away at the heavy silence of the night and you crawl back from the dry heat of it, sure you can feel your eyebrows singeing from being near. Dabi looks different backed by the inferno—bigger, crueler. Frightening. He reaches at the door but you shout at him to stop.

Why? Don’t you think he should suffer, after what he did to you?

But your fists clench by your sides and you set your teeth and you tell Dabi that if he’s going to kill your husband, he may as well set himself on fire too, because it’s his fault in the first place. And he’s done a lot worse to you than one slap.

Dabi waits a moment, searching your alarmed expression for something, but whatever he’s hoping for you don’t give him and the flames go out. The air smells like smoke and his hands are hot—not burning, but uncomfortably hot—when he kneels in front of you and rubs a thumb over your bruised cheek.

“(Y/N)—” Dabi starts, and then he can’t find a way to finish. So he just gathers you up in his arms and carries you bridal-style down into the lawn and to the driveway, where he’s got a car waiting to take you guys back to his place. You don’t resist, which surprises him again. He thought you’d push away at him, scream, get angry—he thought he’d have to convince you. Or force you, like he usually does. But you just let him deposit you in the seat next to the driver’s.

Before he gets in, he asks you if you need anything from your house. He can go get it for you. See if any balding motherfucker in his forties can stop him. But you just shake your head.

“There’s nothing,” you say blankly. “I have nothing. I…have nothing.”

Just like back then.

“Not nothing,” Dabi tells you, turning forward to the road so you can’t see the look on his face. “You have me.”

///

In the end, he does understand. He understood it the second he held that goodbye note in his hands and knew you were lost to him.

You were 17 when you met him and 19 when you left—hardly older than a child yourself. You barely had enough to provide for your own needs, much less a teenage boy’s. By the time you left, Dabi was more than capable of surviving on his own and already falling into ugly crowds, gangs and syndicates who saw money in his quirk, people you’d sacrificed a lot to keep him away from. He no longer needed you, and it was time for you two to go your separate ways. Dabi understands that.

But now you need him. Just like you needed him when you were fucking strangers for food money; like you needed him when you ran away; like you needed him when you got trapped in this mundane, sparkling-clean life, a life that was never going to fit you. Only this time—this time, Dabi’s old enough for you. He’s not a kid anymore, he’s a man. He’s got an apartment and a good job (well, kind of) and he’s got money. He can provide for you the way you’ve always needed him to.

Dabi’s going to take care of you, and you’re never, ever going to leave.

[lovemybluebully]

Danger Room Level 1

Posted this at the beginning of the year on my DA account. Thought I’d throw it up on here. This was my first Wolverine tickle pic in 4 years! O_O

https://www.deviantart.com/lovemybluebully/art/Danger-Room-Level-1-865337680

Wrote a little story to go along with it.

Story is below the ‘Keep Reading’ line.

*/M Tickle Fic (Obviously lol) "Any other surprise challenges for me today, bub? Or is that all ya got?" Wolverine smirked confidently up at the team leader of the X-men, glancing over his shoulder at the pile of rubble consisting of destroyed weaponry and dismembered sentinels and robots of all sizes. Cyclops only sighed as he shook his head and looked down at the Canadian brawler from the control room of their training facility, having exhausted almost every combination of attacks that he could think to throw at him.

These scenarios of Wolverine slicing and dicing up every obstacle and foe were quite predictable and honestly getting a tad boring to watch over and over. Scott decided it was time to try something a little different. "No, this just isn't working. These upper level programs are just all foreseeable for you. Lets try something new. I say we scrap everything and start over from scratch. How about we start you at level 1?"

Logan's smirk disappeared as he frowned up at the other man. "Level 1? Yer kiddin' me, right? That's the program the Professor uses to train the kiddies."

"Trust me Logan it'll be perfect for you. Since you've always skipped over the bottom levels you'll have no idea what they contain so you won't be able to predict them so easily. Hell I don't even know myself exactly what is on each level, but lets give it a shot! Maybe we'll both learn something." Scott actually wasn't lying since he himself had been too competent for those beginner programs when he had joined the X-men. It was likely that Logan would just blow right through them, but he was curious and quite frankly desperate for a change of pace. "Fine. But this is gonna be just a waste o' time," Logan grumbled as he lazily stretched out his arms and cracked his neck. "Don't underestimate the Danger Room and dismiss this program so easily. It may be aimed towards the less experienced, but should still provide its own formidable experience. Remember to stay alert and don't let your guard down." Wolverine just scoffed and blew off his advice like he normally did. "Yeah whatever Slim. Lets get on with it."

"Ok great. Now just a moment here. I'm initiating level 1....," Scott uttered with some fast typing on the control board before pressing one final button, "Now." They waited for a few quiet moments, but nothing happened. Logan was about to quip some sarcastic remark when finally the Danger Room began to show some activity. A compartment on the wall opened and two gloved robotic hands being controlled by metal tentacles began to slowly make their way over to him. Logan snorted in disbelief and shook his head as he looked over the two appendages and noted that they were not holding any kinds of weapons; basically looking completely harmless.

"That's it? This is ridiculous. What's next, a pillow fight? Not that I expected this crap to be any kinda challenge whatsoever," Logan rolled his eyes as he raised his hands into the air and released his deadly claws; ready to dispatch the advancing robot hands with a quick swipe once they closed in. Not even a second later he quickly found his arms ensnared as two metal tentacles had crept in from behind to successfully restrain him much to Logan's shock. He growled as he tried to slice at the tentacles with his sharp claws, but they firmly held his arms away from each other just above his head. The distraction had been just enough that he barely had time to notice that the gloved hands had now reached him as one of them wasted not a moment to grab hold of the hem of his uniform's shirt and roughly jerk it upwards, exposing his bare stomach.

"Hey! What is...?!" He shouted in confusion; his words cut off as the other hand immediately shot forward and buried it's furiously wriggling digits right into his muscular belly.

Logan hadn't listened to Scott. He had let his guard down completely when he had seen this "threat" first enter the room. His overconfidence was now going to be his downfall for mocking the capabilities of the robot hand; the hand that was now ruthlessly tickling him. This tactic was a complete shock to him, and having not put up any of his mental defenses in preparation the laughter exploded out of him as soon as contact was made. "Ahahahaahaa! Wha-Whahahat's goin' ohohohon?! Stahahap thaaat!" He howled out at the mindless hand that relentlessly continued tickling all over his sensitive abdomen; the other hand holding his shirt securely out of the way. Scott too was in complete awe by just what method the program had decided to use, though he couldn't help but grin as he saw the situation that his normally cantankerous teammate was now in. It was already a known fact by the mansion's inhabitants that Logan was surprisingly ticklish as his female team members found it quite endearing and took great delight in ganging up on the burly mutant at times. Heightened senses did have their drawbacks. Still nothing that Scott himself would partake in, knowing that while Logan might put up with it from the ladies he was pretty sure he'd be skewered on the spot if he even made a hint at attempting such a thing. In a way he now felt that he had a sense of power in having Logan in this position. "See? That's what happens when you underestimate the situation, now get to work Logan. Tickling probably isn't a real world offensive that you're going to run into, but no harm in being extra prepared." Wolverine's claws remained out, but he couldn't move his arms enough to free himself. Unable to think straight he continued to fail in his efforts to come up with a strategy to get out of this aside from yelling up at the amused operator in the control room. "Cyyyykehehehee! Tuhuhurn thihis shihihihiiit ohahahahoff!!" Arms bulging he thrashed uselessly in the grip of the tentacles, trying to block the torturous hand from his body by lifting his knee to no avail. He'd been tickled worse than this before, but never had he been this helpless to defend himself. Meanwhile Scott mused over the scene before him. It in fact was a little stupid to be messing with one of the world's deadliest mutant's like this, and he was pretty sure there would be Hell to pay later. His hand hovered momentarily over the button to shut down the Danger Room, but then he pulled back. "No, I think you just need a little more time to figure this out. I have faith in you. I mean, this program is only used to train the 'kiddies', right?" Yup. He was pretty sure Logan was going to kill him after this. "Fuhuhuhuck yooooouuuu!!" Logan cackled as he desperately tried to regain some kind of focus though was only barely able to retract his claws back into his hands, knowing that they were of no use. "Aw c'mon Logan. You're not that ticklish, are you? Can't resist just one little hand tickling you?" Scott couldn't help but tease a bit, having on more than one occasion seen Logan nearly lose his mind from just having his stomach tickled by his teenage sidekick, Jubilee. No sooner had he said that when a third hand began to move in from out of Logan's sight before grabbing the squirming mutant right below his ribs as the fingers playfully dug in over and over again.

"Bwahahahahahahahahaa!! Noooo!! Gehehet 'em offa meeheeheehee!!" Roaring with laughter from the added torture Logan was regretting not taking the lowest level of the Danger Room more seriously. With his arms being held out of the way he couldn't even use them to help guard his body no matter how hard he pulled to free them. It wasn't much longer before his legs began to weaken as he attempted to sink to the floor to hopefully get him a split second of reprieve.

He was allowed to move to the ground, but the hands were unrelenting. With a firm tug the restraining tentacles around his forearms pulled him down onto his back as a few more hands now appeared seemingly out of nowhere to join in tickling under his arms and the other side of his ribcage.

"No!! No!! Stahahahap ihihihihit!! Lemme outtahahaha heeheeheeeere!!" The Wolverine howled as he kicked and squirmed like crazy; his armpits being one of his worst spots. Two other metal tentacles quickly slithered over and grabbed onto each leg to stretch him out and prevent him from curling up in defense. Tears crept out of the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard as so far he had made no progress in getting loose. "Very disappointing Logan. I thought for sure you'd have passed all these lower levels with ease. Well it seems we've uncovered your true weakness. Something that your healing factor won't protect you from. We'll probably have to repeat this level over and over until you get it right," Scott grinned wider, only half serious as he liked to push Logan's buttons at any given opportunity. He was hardly listening though; too focused on the incessant tickle torture. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse two additional hands made their way over and quickly tugged off his boots, revealing his twitching bare feet as Logan's eyes bulged in panic. "HEY!! Hey hey waahaahaait a m...minute!! No don't!! Not the-AAAHAHAHHAHAHA!!" Fingers wildly scratched at his tender soles, tickling from his wide heels to up under his curled up toes with not a thing he could do to stop them. He was laughing harder than he'd ever had as the tears began to roll down his cheeks. He absolutely could not handle having his feet tickled and once had accidentally kicked Rogue for trying. Luckily she is a tough woman though she used it as an excuse to really punish him with his ankles trapped in the crook of her super strong arm while Logan hysterically cried 'Uncle'. This was more than he could stand. Being spread out and tickled in all his most sensitive spots at once with no way to guard himself was where he drew the line. He loathed the thought of what he was about to do, but he couldn't hold back the frantic pleas that came pouring out. "NAAAHAHAHAHAHOOOO!! N-NO MORE!! STOPSTOP!! PLEEHEEHEEEEASE!! I CAN'T..HAHAHAHAHAA..CAAHAAHAAN'T T-TAKE THIHIHIIS SHIIIIIT!!" Scott was just enjoying the show as he chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "Wow. Who knew? All one has to do to defeat Wolverine is to tickle him and he'll be begging for mercy. Better hope none of your enemies ever find out about this one."

And with that he finally pushed the button to shut down the currently running program in the Danger Room. He'd have been more than happy to let it keep going, but even he could feel some sympathy for his frenemy and knew once he started begging that he had had enough. Logan instantly panted in relief as the hands all stopped tickling him while he was gently released from the restraints, everything then retracting back into the chambers that they had emerged from. A giggle escaped him here and there as he still had a phantom feeling of the fingers all over on his body.

Scott slowly clapped his hands in jest from the control room as he grinned down at the seemingly lifeless body. "Not bad, Logan! I think you almost had it there, but I'm sure you'll do better next time! So what do you think? Ready for level 2?"

The middle claw that immediately popped out of Logan's fist crudely gave him his answer.

[bellaslilpapercut]

Eclipse reread part 3 bewr bewr bewrrr! Covering the entire rest of the book in ONE post so buckle on in baybee: 

1. Absolutely everything about chapter 15 (wager) is disgusting. To a certain extent I appreciate how successfully meyer captures how frustrating assault is as a woman, how futile it feels to fight against it. But at the same time the way she handles the aftermath is unbelievably disappointing and infuriating. Charlie doesn't get up to help his own daughter, Jake trails after Bella into the house and sticks around, there's just no relief or reflection that feels satisfying. Bella can ask where the justice is when she finds out Jake isn't aging but just ignores Charlie defending her assailant? And to some extent I get it, I've shut down after assault before to the point where it took years to recognize that some of the things that happened even were assault. But when there's a pattern within the series of men being narratively rewarded for assault and abuse and women being punished for reacting to abuse it feels like the narrative is reinforcing the status quo of women<men. I'm not stupid, I understand when a book is trying to make me uncomfortable and I don't need villains to be punished to know that they're villainous. This doesn't come across that way at all. Meyers handling of misogynistic abuse and violence lack the nuance to make me believe that she sees this violence as something to be critical of rather than something that just happens to women. And again, because it's a pattern in her writing, women getting no reprieve from gendered harm, I don't believe she's making a statement. There's just no self awareness and that's the key difference between a story like Brave New World or Lolita and Twilight.

2. Also this quote that precedes the assault is just so so frustrating:

Bella is not mean for setting boundaries! She isn't stringing you along! I would love to hit meyer in the head with a rolled up newspaper. Anyway.

3. Bella keeps saying things like "this would be annoying if it weren't so scary" in regards to having her clothes stolen by vampires that want her dead and having to lie to people around her, again because dozens of vampires want her dead. And y'know after the third time she said she would be annoyed if she weren't scared I'm just left to believe she isn't scared at all. I don't feel rising tension, the newborn army feels like a minor nuisance and even after they connect it to victoria (who still hasn't shown up at all) I'm just like...okay well get on with it then! Meyer makes bella "shudder" (I'm still tempted to make a comp of every time she shudders in this fucking book lol) instead of showing us her actual fear. I don't believe she's scared, I don't care about the "threat," and I don't believe anything bad will happen to Bella. There are Literally No Stakes here. I'm not invested in this story at all.

4. Alice is a bad friend lmfao

Girl, you're psychic you know she wanted to wear red why are you just dressing her up for your brother.

5. Okay returning to point 3 because I read chapter 17 and had an epiphany: Bella says she isn't scared for herself and I get that I do. But smeyer also hasn't shown us that she's selfless- just that she doesn't care if she dies. If bella actually cared for her human friends, in any way, I would believe that the newborn army was a scary threat because the people she loves might get hurt. But I don't believe that she cares about that I only believe that she- like Edward- has a weird martyr complex.

6. The Mirror chapter also reinforces this. I can’t stop thinking about how much more impactful it would have been narratively if it had been Angela in Bree’s position (because she’s the only human friend Bella seems fond of but if Bella showed interest in any of the other humans, honestly any of them would do). Imagine the moment where the newborn vampire first lifts her head to look into Bella’s eyes and it’s someone she knows. Someone she cares for. There should have been consequences for Bella beyond “Jake got some bones broken and now I feel bad :(” which was also a shitty punishment because smeyer is inflicting physical trauma on an indigenous character just to make Bella feel bad. Okay. Anyway, it would have built the tension I was missing for- quite literally- over 300 pages of this book if Bella’s friends and classmates and Fork’s residents had been going missing the whole time. Suddenly, at the end of the battle, there’s Angela. Or Jess. Or Katie fucking Marshall. Someone Bella knew should have been there and maybe I would have cared about this book at all.

7. Going back in time to this quote which comes before the battle:

UGH!!! SHUT UP SMEYER! She literally poisoned Jake’s character from the moment she made him a main character and she has zero self reflection to see the damage that she’s causing here. I’ve said before that I don’t think Jake’s actions were a romantic deal breaker and that stands out now more than ever after reading Eclipse. THIS is the moment that Bella realizes she’s in love with Jake too. Smeyer not only sees abuse and aggression as romantic, she also lacks the braincells and reflection to see that she’s playing directly into racist stereotypes. Edward got to grow up- marginally- but Jake had to remain aggressive. I still don’t think she ever once meant to villify Jake- I think that there was no way in a hell a racist woman could ever successfully portray an indigenous character. His tenderness is tainted by the aggression she forces on his character and in the end he never had a chance because- again- he was being written by a racist woman with fucked up views of indigenous people.

8. Okay, I get it. They’re like Cathy and Heathcliff. Fine. I buy it.  

This isn’t even the last time she compares them to Cathy and Heathcliff. Kate Bush isn’t gonna write a song about you, meyer! Give it a rest! (Also lol at “like wuthering heights”)

9.  Jumping right to the end here because to be completely honest the only actual event in the entire book was the newborn battle. Jane was a bitch, fine. Edward talked at Victoria and bored her to death (presumably) and the action never felt very action heavy. I knew if from the “best friend (and werewolf)” line that this book was presumably written for idiots given how little is left to the imagination at any given time. I can’t stand when books treat the audience like dummies and I especially can’t handle YA books that do this. Teenagers aren’t stupid!! Young adults can pick up on subtlety in literature!! AND young adults can handle suspense and action. smeyer doesn’t do either well and the editors never once said “hey you know teens aren’t stupid right? like your audience will pick up on hints that you scatter you don’t have to forcefully explain everything?”  

10. Smeyer can’t stop interrupting herself even in the very last sentence of the book proper:

What, pray tell, is wrong with “Where it would stay for the rest of eternity.” Why did you have to sow doubt in the sentiment right after Bella made her For Real Final Decision???? And why the em-dash!? Again: the editors of the twilight saga are my nemeses but also my favorite conmen. What were they paid for?

11. Back to the editors real quick: if i was given a draft of eclipse I would instantly say: this story is almost 400 pages of nothing, you need to play with the structure of the story. You need to build suspense and if that means playing with POV like you randomly start doing in the epilogue, then do that. Or you can play with the plot. Nothing happens for 300 pages. It takes 300 pages to get to the newborn battle and nothing that happens before the newborn battle makes me feel worried about it. Again, kill off some humans, raise the stakes, do SOMETHING. This was so painfully slow to read because meyer tried to center this book on a love triangle that I didn’t even believe in myself. And even then, it took 14 chapters for the love triangle to get real action (as in an Event, not necessarily physical action). 

12. The epilogue. Oh man. Was the r-slur really so acceptable in 2007 that not one single editor questioned its use? I won’t type the quote in full but Jake refers to his fake arm sling as r-word. Like??? What? And THEN smeyer has him call Leah a “bitter harpy.” Shut up. 

In conclusion, nothing felt like a bigger waste of time than Eclipse. Genuinely, to be completely honest. Two (2) important things happened, at least in Bella’s narrative (I agree with Vinelle that the Volturi debacle was important from Carlisle’s perspective, it adds nothing to Bellas and Bella learns nothing important from it.): 1. Bella made a decision, she chose Edward. Who could have seen that coming? Whaaaat? 2. Rosalie told Bella her backstory. Not that Bella even used that to reflect on her decision to become a vampire but hey, at least it felt like an important moment. Jasper’s backstory only mattered for the newborn battle which didn’t matter at all (and it never informed his character and no one ever brings up that the confederacy was a terrible dark stain on US history (along with the rest of US history but that’s a full dissertation or two on its own)). I can’t imagine a way to improve this book as a standalone book. You could split up the plot (using that term loosely) so that New Moon and BD are both a little longer and BD a little more organized. But without completely changing the plot beats in Eclipse, its just pointless.

[wedreamedlove]

Into Your World [Xu Mo Character Study]

I'm back with another post that's been rattling around in my brain, except it's a bit disconnected. However, there's been a theme that I've wanted to focus in on with Xu Mo: each other's worlds, their dreams (goals and/or fancies), and water imagery.

Contains spoilers for Chapter 24 and unreleased dates in ENG.

First, I want to give a disclaimer that MC is pretty much the only person who can get into the mens' inner worlds, and that's why they're the romantic main characters; but there's just something a little poignant with Xu Mo because of his archetype.

Li Zeyan's archetype makes him belong to another world because of his wealthy background and social status. Zhou Qiluo's archetype makes him belong to another world because it's the dark side of humanity, and he actively tries to keep MC away from that. Bai Qi's archetype is how they're already in the same world and they just need to open up to each other LOL he's the guy next door.

However, Xu Mo's archetype is literally the alienated genius [Official Life History] since he was a child and, after he lost his parents, he just threw himself into his studies and goals and didn't bother making connections with anyone.

Xu Mo: Mm, I graduated early.

Xu Mo's tone was normal, as if it were a matter unrelated to him and there was no sense of pride at all. However, it still made people impressed.

MC: So, when you were in high school, you spent all your time studying?

Xu Mo: At that time, yes.

MC: Why?

Xu Mo: Silly, why are there so many why's? It's just like when you were going to take your entrance exams, there were things I also needed to do.

[Blossom Date - CN Translation]

Heck, even now, MC is the only one he replies to in his Moments [Official Character Profile].

Since the moment we meet him, he takes on the "mentor" role and teaches MC about things. She mentions this all the time, about how he teaches her the laws of the world, etc. Xu Mo is innately part of another world because the realm of geniuses is not supposed to be understood.

However, this isn't a one-way street. Just as we can't understand them, they can't understand us. So, as MC makes an effort to understand Xu Mo, he is also making an effort to understand her.

IMO this is what makes the following interactions extremely tender and romantic.

MC: The white noise you recommended last time was really effective! Lately, my work efficiency has gone up!

Xu Mo: That's good.

Xu Mo: But, instead of your work efficiency, I hope it was useful for your sleeping problem.

MC: Recently, I listen to the sound of rain before sleeping. It feels like everything around me gets quiet when I relax and listen to it.

Xu Mo: It seems like our preferences are the same. I also like to listen to the rain when I'm relaxing.

Xu Mo: The sound of rain droplets striking the roof is calming, isn't it?

MC: It's great collecting only the sounds you like and then completely entering your own world.

Xu Mo: Then, will you also let me hear those sounds?

Xu Mo: I'd like to hear your world.

By the way, given the timeline of this conversation, this is an incredible foreshadowing of his [Nightmare ASMR].

One time, when I was studying in England, I spent months finishing a particularly tricky piece of my dissertation. After I sent it through the mail, it was already nine in the morning. I was a bit tired and planned on sleeping. The weather in England is often rainy, so it was also raining that morning and it was dark. The sound of the rain striking the windowsill was clear and it sounded soothing too.

Then, there was the sound of a piano from below. It was Chopin’s Nocturne, and played very well. Every note mixed in with the sound of the rain… unhurried drops, pitter-pattering. All was quiet, as if I was separated from the world. I stared at the curtains that were being lifted by the wind and, before I knew it, I fell asleep.

[...]

Although I don’t remember it at all anymore, I dimly feel that when I was small I also experienced a night like this. The sound of the rain, the sound of the piano… Outside the window, it’s very, very cold. I can hear the sound of the wind striking the window. And in my half-awake and half-asleep state, I’m put into a warm embrace… Closing my eyes like this… I’m able to sink into a deep, deep sleep… Just like… this right now…

[Fastened Door to the Heart]

MC: From time to time, I just want to go to your world and take a look.

Caption: Actually, I'd rather go to your world and take a look.

So, anyway, going back to the theme of entering each other's inner worlds. You can see it explicitly said here in the Reading Date. They basically exchanged reading material because she wants to understand him, with his complicated science book, and he wants to understand her, with the comics she read when she was young.

Okay, now we're going to switch tracks for a bit and this might seem disconnected (I warned you!), but take my hand because I'm definitely trying to go somewhere with this.

Part of understanding someone's world is learning about their inner thoughts, their dreams, their wishes, their fantasies, however silly or childish or abstract all of these can be.

This is also an incredibly huge point with Xu Mo because, through MC, we're supposed to feel a sense of pressure from such an accomplished scholar character, but he always works hard to diminish that sense of intimidation and presence [Xu Mo's EQ Character Study] and he never demeans her interests or makes her feel lesser for her intelligence.

Xu Mo: Either way, there must be something that only you can create.

MC: Something only I can make... Ah, I know!

Getting an idea, I divided the batter in my hands into two and made a fish and a wing.

I tried combining the two, but something felt missing.

Xu Mo, who came to my side at some point, took a spoon and used it to make scales on the back of the fish.

Xu Mo: Don't you think it looks more like one with this?

Xu Mo: Can you tell me why you thought of this?

MC: ... You won't laugh when you hear it?

Xu Mo: I think it depends on what you tell me.

MC: Then I won't tell you!

Xu Mo: I'm kidding. Will you tell me?

I didn't have anywhere to run when he looked at me and so, cornered, I told him a childish thought that I had never told anyone up to now.

MC: When I was small and I heard the story of Qixi, I thought the Milky Way was a real river with water running through it.

MC: So I ended up worrying over whether the swallows would have an accident, fall into the water, and drown...

MC: I thought that'd be sad for the swallows and so I lied to myself the entire time.

MC: That the ones who made the bridge for the weaver girl and cowherd where flying fish.

I moved the flat fish with its wing in front of him while I spoke, making it fly clumsily.

Xu Mo burst out laughing, as if he wasn't able to hold it back. My face turned bright red from the embarrassment and I returned the fish to the desk.

MC: It's really stupid, isn't it...

Xu Mo: Silly girl, you have batter on your face.

He wiped my face with the pad of his finger. There was a smile that he couldn't suppress on his mouth.

MC revealed her inner child to him, which she had never told anyone else, and he doesn't judge her for it. Please tell me you can feel the tenderness radiating out of this interaction!

Now, although the above interaction was Qixi-themed, I still find it intriguing that she replaced the swallows with (flying) fish. Because Xu Mo is all about water imagery [Xu Mo Character Study] and this appears in their next interaction below.

[Sonnet In The Eyes] "It looks like I'll be inside your most beautiful dream for certain."

I'm not going to do line quotes here because it's too long LOL but in this date, Spring Morning, they end up having a conversation about dreams and, one time when Xu Mo dozed off in his lab, he dreamed that he was a fish.

His surroundings were dark and he couldn't see the state of the water but, with a thought, he could swim a long distance. When he opened his mouth, only bubbles would come out. When he raised his head, he would see the light filtering through the waves. Sometimes, he would hear the chirps of birds transmitted through surface of the lake.

He knew he was dreaming, because he's a light sleeper, but he still observed how the wind seemed to blow above the lake and that it was the height of summer. Maybe, when it got dark, he'd be able to see the stars and fireflies. He thought about asking another fish for directions but he couldn't find anyone around him. Then he woke up.

At that time, he had run into problems in his work and, even after half a year, there was no progress. In his dream, he rashly thought that if he really was a fish then he wouldn't need to work. But, after he woke up, he suddenly had a flash of inspiration. Later, he concluded that this dream was able to let him relax a little, set his mind blank, and that's when he could get back to work.

Look at him tell MC about his dreams, reveal his struggles, and reveal his inner thoughts. He's telling her about the time when, even someone like him, met with difficulties and felt the urge to just throw it all out and give up. He's letting her into his world and that's love, baby!

Psst, don't forget about the water imagery with him being a fish.

[Flowers on the Path] "I thought it over a thousand times, and then there came a reply."

Xu Mo: Are you home already? I saw the photo you sent me.

MC: Mhm, I just got home.

Xu Mo: Lately, you've been sending me photos of clouds. Is there any special meaning behind them?

MC: Not really. I just wanted to share with Professor Xu, who is always cooped up in his lab, a good way to reduce stress.

Xu Mo: Oh? What is it?

MC: First, look at the picture.

Xu Mo: Mm, I'm looking.

MC: Then close your eyes and imagine yourself as that cloud. Tell me, what do you see?

Xu Mo: I seem... to only see pitch darkness?

MC: Pfff, I mean you can use your imagination. For example... what sights you see and what you feel.

Xu Mo: Alright, I see... a clear sky and bright sunlight. Sometimes... birds will fly past.

MC: Will they say hello to you?

Xu Mo: They'll slow down and roll around on me, frolicking.

MC: Haha, and then?

Xu Mo: And then I'll drift around leisurely like this until I see another cloud. Although it's our first meeting, I'll feel like I've known her since a long time ago.

MC: Maybe she feels the same way.

Xu Mo: So we'll click immediately and slowly lean against each other.

MC: Hahaha, as expected of our Professor Xu! Your imagination is so rich.

Xu Mo: This method really is effective and it can let me clear out my mind. After resting for a while, even my feelings are much calmer.

MC: Oh! Then Professor Xu will have two methods of relieving stress now.

Xu Mo: Two?

MC: Yup, during the day, you can look at the sky and imagine yourself as a free floating "cloud"; at night, in your dreams, you can be a "fish" swimming in the great sea with no restraints. Like this, regardless of whether it's day or night, you can say goodbye to your worries.

Xu Mo: Haha, I have to go up into the sky and then down into the water. Why do I feel like I'm even busier?

MC: Hahaha, that's true.

Xu Mo: However, compared to these, I have another method which I like even more.

MC: Oh? What is it?

Xu Mo: It's staying beside "another cloud" or "another fish". Even if we don't do anything, it can get rid of an entire day's worth of exhaustion and I'll be able to get a good rest. May I ask what she thinks about this method?

[Reducing Stress - Call]

Callbacks. I love PG's callbacks so much.

But, linking this back to everything, they're both exercising their imagination together and it shows their inner world more to each other. Not to mention, they literally bring back how he once dreamed about being a fish to escape the stress of his work.

Now, I'm changing gears again, but this time I want to talk about the physical world they're both in and how their different philosophies set them on opposite sides. I wrote about the [Use of Horror in Ch19 Study] and how, in that chapter, you can see her greatest fears manifested in what Ares does there, but also what she resolves herself to do.

They literally walk away from each other because, according to Xu Mo, their "destinations" were different from the very beginning.

However, when we get to Chapter 24...

MC: ... What if the future we both want is different? I might become your obstacle.

Xu Mo: Right now isn't the time to come to a conclusion.

Xu Mo: Reality will inevitably have pain. However, to run away from reality because of that will just lead to more regret.

Xu Mo: I'm certain the future you wish for will be beautiful and it'll be able to touch anyone's heart.

Xu Mo: You're going to take me to that sort of future. Right?

MC: ... Yes!

MC: But after the worlds become one, even if I fail then I won't be able to do things over again. If that happens...

Xu Mo: Everything will end.

Xu Mo: But that's the path you chose, right? I believe in your choice.

Xu Mo: This time, I'll follow behind you.

He had always been walking in front of me, but now he was entrusting himself to the choice I believed in.

I made my decision.

MC: Follow me closely then.

Xu Mo grabbed my hand and lightly swung it.

Xu Mo: Is this good?

My cheeks burned and I spoke incoherently.

MC: Then... don't ever let go!

Xu Mo: Mm, I'm holding on tightly.

He showed a gentle smile that was like the sunlight of spring.

Before I knew it, our fingers intertwined and it was like we exchanged a quiet promise.

I looked at our joined hands and something hot suddenly welled up in my heart.

In this immense space-time, there were countless obstacles stretched ahead of us. For a long time, we both walked with our backs to each other.

There were still unsolved mysteries between us, but now I felt like I could face anything.

This time it was my turn to pull his hand and run towards that spring without stopping.

That's love! This is love! He loves her so much!

From the beginning, Xu Mo and MC were people in different worlds (their innate nature and their philosophies) but, throughout their relationship, they both keep making efforts to understand each other and enter each other's inner worlds.

It literally culminates here in Xu Mo willing to set down his beliefs and follow hers. He's trusting in her vision of the future and that's basically a proposal from someone like him.

I literally don't have anything else to say without devolving into sappy poetry or romantic lines or something, but these two have laid their souls bare to each other and accepted every side of the other person, regardless of how alien, childish, vicious, ugly, or weird it can be. Literally, "If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known."

[hanramm156]

Rammstein Family Game: Get to know me! (Warning: a long ramble)

I’m honored to be tagged by @cherrisplace​ and @momoredcrow​. ^^ It’s been a pleasure to read other people’s Rammstein memories and opinions, so here comes mine as well. Writing is one of those rare things that keep me sane during this crazy season, so I apologize this being super long. More rambling is probably coming when everything’s cancelled and I have nothing else to do.

Rules: There are no rules. Tag whoever you want. Don’t tag yourself. Tag yourself. You don’t have to answer all the questions. Do what you please. Have fun.

Created by: @vapor-stein

1. I’m curious: when did you discover Rammstein?

2004 properly, but I might have heard Du hast or other popular songs even earlier.

2. Tell me your story. How did you discover them?

As said, it was 2004 and I was watching some random Finnish music show. Back in the days, I watched a lot of music videos from the tv and recorded my favorite ones to VHS. One evening Rammstein’s Amerika came from the show and I was like “??? What on earth is this??? Sounds interesting…”. I wasn’t into metal music back then (I mostly listened to indiepop and alternative rock), but for whatever reason, I got hooked instantly to this German band’s dark, eerie sound. It was refreshing to hear something else than English and the video was also thrilling.

Rammstein had intruded my mind already, but the final straw was when I saw the Mein Teil video. I liked both the song and the video A LOT - so much that I even felt kinda “dirty” for liking something this dark. A 14-year-old me was constantly asking from myself that: “am I even allowed to like this kind of stuff this much?”. The backstory for the song was creepy, but so mesmerizing – like I had been introduced to the darkest corners of human mind: yes, this kind of stuff happens, and we shouldn’t close our eyes from it. So next, the only thing I could do was to buy Reise, reise album, listen to it on loop and sketch my German notebook full of Rammstein lyrics. Here’s a proof:

I have so many stories about my relationship to Rammstein that I might have to write them all down now when there’s a lot of time.

3. Favourite song?

This topic would be worth a novel itself, but here are some of my favorites:

Asche zu Asche – So badass, gives me such an energy every time – plus, not to forget the burning microphones and SILVER REESH!

Bück dich – Yes, it’s a horrible story once again in this song, but I can’t help but to admit that the song is freaking catchy and in a weird way, hot. Also, there’s a funny backstory when I was in 9th grade and we almost performed this song in our official graduation party with my boyfriend and a bunch of our friends (maybe good that the idea was abandoned in the end…). We had a vague clue what the song was about, but we just thought it was funny – also, our German teacher dressed always in leather and loved Rammstein (she played us Bestrafe mich during one class and I’ll always remember the awkward atmosphere) so we were thinking to dedicate the song to her for as our goodbye. XDD Seriously, why I have been so weird for all my life…

Sehnsucht – In most of the pop songs, longing is described by tender words and soft lyrics, but not in Rammstein’s case. I’ve had this weird feeling of “longing” all my life that I can’t describe properly. It’s kind of an inner emptiness, only arts and music can help to deal with it when it hits. I think Sehnsucht describes so realistically what is longing about in reality: it’s this angry pressure in your heart which you want to get out of your chest but can’t. In the end, you just want to scream your lungs out.

Mein Herz brennt – Powerful song that always gives me goosebumps. I can’t even explain why. Maybe the fact that “tough” men being emotional is my soft spot and Rammstein hits that spot hard.

Links 2-3-4 – I have always been kind of a rebel and I feel like when everyone else is going to the “right” I have to go to the left, to the unknown. My heart is longing for adventure, for the paths the others are not going. I dunno, but this is such a powerful song for me. When I hear it, I always just want to jump around. In Tampere concert I went totally nuts when Links started as the second song, lol. From that moment I felt like I was back home with my boys.

Mein Teil – No need for further explanations anymore.

Los – The harmonica solo!!! The dropped c tuning and the acoustic sounds!! I love it.

Amour – My favorite R+ ballad. I confess that I listen to this and think about the lyrics when I’m in the mood for writing something painfully romantic.

Weit weg – There’s this painful longing once again that always resonates to me. I listened this to a lot after the “after blues” of Ratina concert.

Tattoo – A song that I didn’t care about so much at first, but for whatever reason, it’s almost my favorite from the new album nowadays. It’s catchy as hell and I like the “rattling” guitar riffs.

4. Least favourite song? Come on. I know you have one.

Feuer frei – Too much Vin Diesel vibes. I also get a picture of drunken, middle-aged Finnish guys on a R+ gig who don’t care about to band, but just want to have a party of their life and get drunk, far away from their wives. (No offense to anyone, but as music is almost like a religion to me, I can’t help but to have a bit of disrespect for kind of people who just “consume” music.)

Pussy – Both musically and lyrically, so bad, but I get the point the guys tried to give with this nonsense.

5. Favourite album? & 6. Least favourite album? aka. I ramble about all the albums.

Tough one… as the rules were vague, I decided to have a short opinion about each of the albums.

Herzeleid – Summary: a bunch of guys, born and raised in DDR, are tired of everything so they get together and play aggressive songs - you can almost smell the testosterone miles away while you are listening to this album. I have to admit that I love this album even though it’s not musically super creative. It’s just raw men with raw feelings – and I have to say, it works for me.

Sehnsucht – I was creeped out of the album art as a teenager, lol. But yeah, musically improved from the former one and there are some classic songs that make Rammstein as they are nowadays. I listen to this often when I’m driving.

Mutter – The album that they had the most struggles with if I have understood correctly. The pain can be heard through the songs and it’s so honest and raw. I lost my friend in 2004 tragically and this album was one of the things that kept me sane back then. Especially the beginning of the album (MHB, Links, Sonne) hits me hard in the guts.

Reise, reise – The album that started all this hype in me, so it has a special place in my heart. I also liked how they tried something different to their usual sounds in this one, like orchestral and acoustic songs.

Rosenrot – To be honest, this album has always left me a bit “cold”, so I cannot even make a real opinion of it. There are some good moments though, like Mann gegen Mann that really speaks to me.

Untitled: This has been on the loop since last August and I was honestly surprised how good the album was. I hadn’t listened to Rammstein for a while, but when I got this album to my hands after the concert, holy shit it hit me. I like hearing the path the guys have gone: their new music is much more mature than the first angry albums. Also, I love Till’s poetry in this one, like Was ich liebe and Weit weg.

I think I answered the question #7 already, so I’ll skip to #8.

8. Unpopular opinion about a member? A scandal? Anything?

Even though I appreciate Till as an artist and a poet, I don’t find his appearance attractive. You can throw rotten tomatoes at me now, but this is just my opinion, no means to offend anyone. Maybe the reason is that my taste for men tends to go for androgynous side, so I am not drawn towards very masculine men.

I’m not interested in Lindemann project and I don’t like their music so much, but the tour looked entertaining though. I bet all the people who attended had a lot of fun.

How Richard pronounces English is extremely sexy to my ear, even though it clearly sounds like a German guy trying to sound American - still, it’s like honey to my ears. Stupid man who makes my knees weak with everything he does.

I hate to admit that I don’t like Ohne dich so much. I don’t know why. :(

9. Have you ever seen them live? Tell me what you felt.

Three times this far! Oh man, I could talk about for hours how the concerts have made me feel, but I try to be reasonable now.

Ruisrock, Turku, 2005 – My first time seeing them live – and going to a festival without any adult supervision, so it was a special experience overall – and they blew my mind. It was raining and thundering and we were completely soaked with my friends, but it was worth it!

Bonus for everyone who managed to read this far: teenage me waiting for Rammstein to start playing, looking so badass with my denim jacket and R+ logo drawn with eyeliner. :D

Hartwall Arena, Helsinki, 2012: We went to the show together with my boyfriend to celebrate Valentine’s day and holy shiiiiit it was awesome. Hands down one of the best evenings of my life. I was so hooked to Rammstein afterward that when we were at my bf’s family’s cottage, his brother had to tell me to stop blasting Herzeleid all the time in the kitchen. :’D

Ratina Stadium, Tampere, 2019: Aka. byebye my life, say hello to fics, listening to the band all over again, stupid memes and all the content this fandom creates. I fell in love again with Rammstein during this concert.

I have tickets for Düsseldorf and Tallinn, but now I can only wait and stress that will Corona ruin everything. In that case, I’ll weep alone and write fics about the tour 2020 that ended up never happening.

10. Do you play any instruments? If you do can you play any song by them?

Yeah, I play guitar and piano but nowadays I mostly sing. Rammstein songs are super easy to play with guitar and I recently learnt to play Tattoo and Sex. Have been practicing Engle on piano as well. Some songs I like to sing are Deutschland, Tattoo and Engel. The “speaking” parts are difficult though. ^^;

I’m not sure who I could tag to this who hasn’t done it already, but I’ll try my luck: @ah-its-too-much​ @soronya​ @einemelodie​ @xiaolianhuax​ @so-darya-darya​ @maximaembra​ @kvidasjuklingur​

[witchqueenofthemoon]

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

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How is anyone this pretty honestly

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

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

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

#DUCKENZIE 4 LIFE #DUCKENZIE 4 EVA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll see.”

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

“Not a pony.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Open the other ones.”

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

“Dunny,” she whispered.

“Do you like it? Is it okay?”

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

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

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

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

“You like it.”

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

“Yes.”

“I can’t wait to see you in that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you ever want children?”

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

“No. I don’t, Duncan. Do you?”

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

“I don’t, Kenzie. I don’t either.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t help it. It’s how I feel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--------

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

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

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

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

“Oooo, baby...is that for me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I do too, baby.”

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

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

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

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

“Duncan. I’m so happy.”

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

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

Bliss. That was the word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love green tea ice cream.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ugh, baby. Show me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-------

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

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

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

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

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

“Kenzie, I am always thinking about you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You care about her.”

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

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

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

“Duncan, you’ve really changed lately.”

“I know it. God, I fucking know it.”

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

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

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

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

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Go comfort Melody.”

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

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

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

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

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

The text bubbles appeared again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until the last star fades.

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

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

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

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

------

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly, Samuel. Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking lovely,” he said, sincerely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby. Are you ready? Tell me when.”

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

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

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

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

Holy fuck. Holy fuck, baby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Try to move your wrists, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uhh, Duncan--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m gonna fuck you hard, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhmm, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know baby, I know--fuck--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ygreczed]

HPIE AU ~ Ygrec’s headcanons

Hellooooo !!! Here is the part 5 (already ?!) of the KdFd hdcs ! I can’t believe that the next part is the last one already...

@inazuma-hpau : Yay ! I’m sorry I couldn’t answer you before... But here I am ! I am sorry that the hdcs are getting kinda angsty (I love it I guess ahah)... But it’s so good to reunite them after that ! <3

I have something for the hot/heart breaking scenes. I really love the thought of Kidou and Fudou having intimate experiences together even before going out with each other (like kissing and hugging and... almost going further). Fudou is obviously in love with Kidou at this moment but he is scared of “feelings” in general since he loved his father before he turned into a Death eater, and it deeply hurt him to be betrayed this way. Yes ! The Sun Garden Kids just learnt to like Fudou ~

Well, at first I just had completely forgotten about Sakuma being in their room xD When I remebered it I decided to do this hdc for fun ahah. But I didn’t think about him going to see Genda whenever Kidou and Fudou are at it. I just imagined Kidou and Fudou would do it in Fudou’s room since his roommate is often sleeping with his girlfriend (secretly) or getting back in the room very late. When the roommate hear them through the door, he just go to sleep in Kidou’s bed instead ahah.

I love the urge in Fudou’s attitude when he leads Kidou to an alcove just to kiss him and cuddle him. It really feels like ... the fury of teenage love ahah. This is the cutest hdc about Fudou I ever wrote ! About the bullies, I needed to do something about it. Kidou knew Fudou would never tell anyone else about his fights with those guys, and he was so angry when they called Fudou in the middle of a corridor that he attacked them. Fudou told him he was stupid for doing this, but he was really moved by Kidou’s gesture. You’re right, Fudou would be the kind of boy with some self-esteem issues, especially about his loved one since “love” is a very sensitive topic for him.

I’m sure their friends were kinda pissed off when they were avoiding each other, so seeing them being all touchy-feely must be a funny/pleasant scene lol. But yes, you’re right, it’s so unlike them to do it in front of everyone ! I can see Gouenji elbowing Endou to discretly show him this wandering hand ahah.

That’s getting long so I should stop here xD 

I hope you will like it <3

- When Kidou told his father he planned to go somewhere with his friends on the summer break, the man seemed to be annoyed and asked who was comming. Kidou listed his friends, saying that even if they aren’t all from Slytherin they were from well-born families -mostly Gouenji, Natsumi and Sakuma actually. When his father replied he didn’t want Kidou to be seen hanging around with a Fudou, Kidou knew he would disobey his father for the first time in his life.

-summer break with the gang and Fudou was amazing : they camped somewhere in Scotland, playing quidditch all day or using magic to go in a big city somewhere in Europe for a day. Fudou and Kidou had time together only too ; they visited Venice one afternoon before getting back to the camp.

- some of the other pure blooded students in Slytherin knew very well that Kidou’s father forbade him to mix with Fudou and they kind of took a dim view of his disobedience. Some of them told their parents about it. Other purebloods were on the contrary showing satisfaction in regard of the situation, considering that Fudou was taking the powerfull Kidou with him on the dark side (even though Fudou was always the first one saying he had nothing to do with the other Death eaters’ children.

-Kidou and Fudou tried to ignore all the fuss around their relationship, but the internal war between slytherin respectable pure-blooded descendants and Death Eaters’ heirs was becoming more and more noisy.

- Kidou and Fudou were summoned by Kageyama and found Kidou’s father talking with the head of the House in his office. When they asked what was going on, the two men said the internal war was reaching the nobility outside of the school and that it was really troublesome. Kageyama announced that Fudou’s father had been seen somewhere in London and that he heard about his son’s closeness with Kidou. Fudou seemed to be a bit upset when he learned about it.

- Kageyama said they needed to be rational and stop seeing one another to prevent any conflicts. Kidou explained his father Fudou had nothing to do with Death Eaters and that he cut all the bridges with his father a long time ago, Fudou stopped him, avoiding his gaze. Kidou was shoked. “You’re still seeing your father ?” Kidou asked, his voice almost trembling. Fudou replied that he wasn’t for now, but if his father was around, the man would most likely try to contact him -even more now he knew he was close to Kidou. Kidou understood that Fudou was trying to protect him and started to say he didn’t need someone to take care of him this way. Kidou’s father stood up and stopped his son, only saying that Kageyama would take care of being sure they would stop seeing each other. Fudou only nodded, which litteraly teared Kidou’s heart appart.

-Kidou’s father thanked Fudou before leaving. The boy was surprised, but Kidou knew it meant that his father appreciated the brunette’s decision and respected him.

-Everybody noticed that Kidou and Fudou were avoiding each other. Their friends were worried, especially Haruna ; she tried to know if they broke up but neither Kidou or Fudou answered her properly. It was really sad to see them like this, and no one had a clue about what was happening between them

- Kidou was feeling empty and desperate : he craved for Fudou like an addictive substance, and the other boy was way too wisely respecting Kageyama’s orders. Sakuma was his only comfort when the pressure was unbearable. Also, Sakuma was kinda impressed to see how Kidou was physically suffering from his need for Fudou.

- internal tensions among slytherins calmed down progressively within few weeks, now Kidou and Fudou weren’t seeing each other anymore.

- One night, Kidou couln’t take it anymore and decided to enter Fudou’s room ; the boy was visibly unable to sleep, so Kidou got closer to him, trying to say something (they didn’t talk for weeks so it seemed delicate somehow). Fudou grabbed his t-shirt and Kidou fell on top of the brunette, who started to hug him tight and kiss him on his neck.

- Kidou wondered how it was even possible to feel this relieved only with a cuddle. Fudou was holding him right against him, burrying his face into his neck, teasing his skin with soft, languid bites, whispering “It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re together now” with his deep, breathless voice. Kidou couldn’t figure out if Fudou was speaking to him or for himself...

-Fudou fondled Kidou’s cheeks lovingly, kissing his eyebrows and the bridge of his nose like it was the last time he could do so, and chuckled silently, his fingers getting wet as they slipped on Kidou’s face, in the corner of his eyes. “You’re crying ?” he asked, tenderly tightening his clutch. “No.” Kidou answered, because it was the truth, he wasn’t feeling like crying, he was so happy it was a bit scary, loving Fudou and his arms around him more and more as the time passed.

- They could have have sex during the night but they were definitely too busy with cuddles and sweet nothings. When the morning came, they had barely slept three hours during the night, cuddling and talking whenever they woke up before falling asleep again in one another’s arms.

- Kidou decided not to go in class, and asked Fudou to stay in the bed with him, saying they had “some catching up to do”. The brunette seemed to be amused by Kidou’s mischievious proposal and stayed with him. Kidou hid under the blanket when Fudou’s roommate woke up and they spent the rest of the day together, talking about everything, falling in love over and over each time they kissed, each time they whispered each other’s first name. They had good, wild, tender, funny time together during the day ; it made Kidou wonder how he could ever live without Fudou again.

- they fell asleep once or twice during the day (as they hardly slept during the night before). The third time, Kidou woke up alone. He supposed Fudou let him sleep and joined the others for the diner (he was starving too) and led to the Great Hall. He looked for Sakuma, who rushed at him when he saw him, asking where he was, and where Fudou was too, and that he was worried and that everybody was worried. Kageyama summoned him in his office and asked Sakuma to follow them.

- In Kageyama’s office, Sakuma said that today, strange men in black came to see him at Hogsmeade to ask him about Kidou and Fudou. Kageyama announced it must be Fudou’s father’s minions and that it was for real now. He asked Kidou where he was during the whole day and where Fudou was now. Kidou looked at his teacher and at his friend, confused, before saying that Fudou and him skipped class and stayed in Fudou’s bedroom the whole day and that Fudou was probably somewhere around here.

- Kageyama stayed silent for a while before sending the boys away. Kidou nonetheless heard him order someone to find Fudou “before someone else did” and realised his boyfriend was in big troubles.

- “It seems that Fudou Akio isn’t at Hogwarts anymore” is the main rumor circulating among students in the next few days.

-Somehow, Kidou was confident ; he knew Fudou loved him too much for disappearing just like that. They were too co-dependent to fall appart like this. Fudou would come back, and if not, Kidou would be the one seeking for him in the entire world. He was sure of this and fortunately, because it was all that was keeping his heart from tearing appart like a paper thin little bird.

- Sleeping was hard without Fudou to hold him tight in his arms. Sleeping was hard when every single dream was filled with memories and when love was so powerful it was waking him up in the middle of the night, panting and desperate.

- Kidou was reading everything, every single newspaper where Fudou’s father’s name was mentioned, and sighed in relief because Fudou didn’t seem to have been seen with him already. Which means he hadn’t been caught by the Death Eater, he was still running away from his father -and it was the reason he disappeared from school months ago.

- one day during the holidays, his parents asked him if he was having news from Fudou and Kidou asked bitterly why they were asking anyway. The father said dryly he was worried for the boy, because he obviously was a truthworthy person. Kidou softened and said Fudou was very important to him, his dear loved one. His parents glared to each other silently.

- Kidou turned 18. Fudou was gone for almost five months and it was begining to be unbearable. All his friends from all houses partied with him at The Three Broomstick, and drinking butterbeer for the first time in a while, Kidou suddenly realised someone was awfully missing there. He remembered everything from this first time tasting Fudou’s milky skin, with a scarying amount of details ; Fudou’s touch on his hips, the way their body fitted so perfectly even though they weren’t aware of it yet, his heavy breath when he pushed him back to let his lips wander on his shoulders. When Sakuma turned to him with a large smile to clink their glasses together, his feature suddenly showed worry and surprise. “Kidou, are you okay ?” he asked, before adding “You’re crying…” Kidou realised he was indeed crying.

- Sakuma accompanied him to the terrace to have some fresh air and avoid the others. Kidou said he was fine, it was a dust or something in his eyes, but his voice was now trembling and his hands were clenched around his butterbeer. Sakuma tried to comfort him but soon realised Kidou just needed to be alone. Not long after Sakuma left, Kidou saw a butterfly landing on his glass and realised it was an origami. He caught the enchanted butterfly and the origami unfolded to deliver him a message.

-“Happy birthday, Kidou-kun.”

- The next day, Sakuma woke up alone in his shared bedroom at Hogwarts : Kidou was gone.

[helloelizabethsmithposts]

Mariah Carey - I Stay In Love{Ohayo, Ni Ha Ma, Or Annyeong, Good Morning Or Hello Everyone, GOD BLESS YOU ALL WITH A LOVELY,PEACEFUL,AND JOYFUL WEEKEND!!!! ENJOY Yo Sis Mariah - I'm About To Remix Your Words In This Song- {* Prepare Yourself- I STAY IN LOVE WITH ADONAI= Even though the pain through all of these years, had me so torn apart that really, questioned what Love Truly Was, It Wasn't That I Hated Myself It's Just That I Learned Alot More Faster Than Others My Very First True Loving Teacher Mrs. Young Understood The Type Of Child, I Wasn't A Problem Child, I Was Quite The Child That Would Get Bored, So Father GOD Gave Me Different Gifts & Talents To Keep My Little Ass Out Of Trouble, I Understood GOD'S HEART EARLIER IN LIFE, BECAUSE MY HEART HAS ALWAYS BEEN ONE WITH HIM, I'VE ALWAYS WAS QUICK TO RUN TO HIM, WHENEVER, LIFE WAS TOO CHALLENGING FOR ME! I STOPPED WALKING WITH HIM, TO RUNNING INTO HIS LOVING EMBRACE, }!*THAT'S WHY I QUESTION EVERYONE WHEN THEY MENTION LOVE, THE ESSENCE OF LOVE = JUST LIKE THE HOLY BIBLE SAY'S GOD IS LOVE, 1 CORINTHIANS 13, IF YOU ALL CAN'T EVEN WALK IN HOPE, FAITH, AND CHARITY AND THE GREATEST OF THESE IS CHARITY(LOVE)!!!! WHY LIE TO ONE ANOTHER, DON'T YOU ALL BELIEVE IT'S ABOUT TIME TO REALLY SIT, BACK AND REFLECT ON ALL OF THESE WORDS YOU ALL USE, OR SAY OUT OF YOUR MOUTH, BECAUSE SHOULD YOUR CHILD TAKE ON THIS SAME SELFISH- BRATY, AND SPOIL, HAUGHTY, PRIDEFUL,AND ARROGANT NATURE, THINKING GOD SHOULD BLESS, YOU ALL EVEN THOUGH YOU ALL CHOSE TO USE WHAT HE GAVE YOU ALL AGAINST HIM, JUST SO PEOPLE CAN IDOLIZE YOU, KNOWING THAT GOD HATES IDOLS- DEUTERONOMY 7!!! IS IT REALLY WORTH IT, TO TRY TO COPY OTHERS, WHEN YOU CAN'T EVEN IMAGINE WHAT ARTIST'S LIKE MARIAH, TIMBALAND, R.KELLY, JA RULE, SO PLUSH,SISQO,ASHANTI,NAS, J.LO, KEYS, BRANDY, MONICA,STACIE ORICCO, MARVIN SAPP, BYUNM,TERRY MC'ALMON, PHIL DRISCO, NANAMI, GD, TOP, TAEYANG,TAETISEO, U-KISS,NO MIN WOO, JANG GUEN SUK, AND ALL OF THE ARTIST'S THAT'S WITH ABEOJI, OPPA, CHINGU, AND ANGELS= MR. SAMMIE SMITH & OTHER SIBLINGS, SANDRIKA SMITH, ALAAYIAH, TUPAC, LIL DIRTY BASTARD, WHITNEY HOUSTON, AND HER DAUGHTER, AND MR.BENSON, MR. MYLES& MRS. MYLES, AND THE REST OF THE LOVELY, PEACEFUL, AND JOYFUL BEAUTIFUL HEARTED, AND PRECIOUS PEOPLE OF GOD! IT'S EASY HOW I KNOW FAMILY, I TOLD YOU ALL FATHER AND I ARE ONE LIKE MY ELDER BROTHER JESUS CHRIST TOLD YOU ALL IN THE NEW TESTAMENT, WHEN YOU REALLY WALK, AND LIVE LIKE YOU ALL WHERE TOLD, YOU DON'T HAVE TIME, TO HATE ON SOMEONE BECAUSE OF THEIR RACE, THAT'S REALLY QUITE VERY STUPID, WHICH IS THE VERY CORE OF IGNORANCE, I ASKED FATHER TO TEACH ME THESE, OTHER LANGUAGES, BECAUSE I WANTED TO UNDERSTAND HOW, THE JAPANESE, ASIANS, AND THE KOREANS REALLY FELT, IT WAS EASY TO LISTEN TO YOUR LYRICS, AND KNOW THE MEANING OF YOUR WORDS, SIMPLE, I'M ONE OF GOD'S CHOSEN PROPHETIC HEIRS OF THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN, ONE OF HEAVENLY FATHER'S QUEEN OF MUSIC, A PROTECTOR OF MUSIC, SHOULD YOU ALL REALLY UPSET FATHER, PERSONALLY I TOLD HIM I WOULD SHOW UP IMMEDIATELY, CAUSE WE DISCERNED THE WICKEDNESS IN PEOPLE HEARTS, AND ACTUALLY MY LONG TIME AGO FRIENDS SNITCH YOU ALL OUT, THE BABIES, CHILDREN, AND TEENAGERS!!! WHEN I LEFT THE CLASSROOM FOR AWHILE, DON'T THINK I DIDN'T DO MY RESEARCH ON EVERYONE, AND EVERYTHING ELSE TOO, CAUSE WE DID..... { SO NOW JUST LIKE THAT CAPTAIN AMERICA CARTOON HAD THE QUESTION WAS, WHAT WILL YOUR CHOICE BE, WHAT KIND OF SEEDS, AND FRUITS YOU ALL HAVE BEEN SOWING ALL OF THESE YEARS????  LORD GOD ALMIGHTY CREATOR OF HEAVEN AND THE EARTH, WORDS CAN'T DESCRIBE HOW MY HEART TRULY FEELS, FOR YOU TO SEE,HEAR, AND WATCH THIS SELFISHNESS, ALL THE DAY LONG, IT'S TRULY JUST ALL SO VERY WRONG, BUT I PRAY THAT THE BABIES, CHOOSE MUCH MORE OF A LIGHT AND EASY PATH MY KING- YOUR MAJESTY- ELOHIM{THE TRUE REAL BIG BOSS- THE JUDGE OF THIS UNIVERSE}!!!! A TRUE HAPPY HOME, IS WHEN YOU CAN SMILE, MENTALLY, PHYSICALLY, AND SPIRITUALLY- GODLY KNOWLEDGE, GODLY WISDOM, AND GODLY UNDERSTANDING, WITH THE CELESTIALS{ ANGELS- THE HOST OF HEAVEN}!!!! THESE DIFFERENT CHAPTERS OF MY LIFE WAS QUITE FUNNY, ABEOJI NEM, YOUR SENSE OF HUMOR, IT CAN'T BE TOUCHED AT ALL, I LOOK FORWARD TO REALLY BEING WITH BOAZ, AGAIN CAUSE IT'S QUITE UNIQUE, WHEN YOU ARE LEAD SOMEWHERE BY THE HOLY SPIRIT AND YOU HAVE THAT ONE TRUE DIVINE INTERVENTION THAT'S ORDERED BY EL ELYON - THE ONE TRUE GOD, WHEN HE ANSWERS YOUR PRAYERS ABOUT MEETING THE ONE YOU'VE BEEN PRAYING FOR ALL OF THESE YEARS, AND NEVER GIVING UP LIKE MY SIS AALIYAH SAID IN HER, THANK YOU ALL SO VERY MUCH FOR YOUR UNIQUE CLUES- TENDER HEART, GENTLE HEART, AND KIND HEART, TOUSAN REALLY GAVE YOU ALL THE BEST NAME"S THAT REALLY MATCHED YOUR,  CHARACTERISTICS- OF LOVE, PEACE, AND JOY, IN THE HOLY GHOST DAILY AND ALWAYS, BUT I STILL LAUGH AT OUR BROTHER 2 PAC , LOL LOL LOL, I TOLD YOU GENTLE HEART HE WAS DRIVING LISTENING TO THAT MUSIC IN HIS VAN, CAUSE HE KNEW MUSIC TOO GOOD, AND HE TOLD ON HIS SELF, ASKING US WHAT WE KNEW ABOUT 2 PAC, HE ALWAYS MESSED UP THOSE ARTIST NAMES LAUGHING OUT LOUD, BUT TENDERHEART HE WAS ALWAYS COOL, AND I RESPECTED YOU ALL FOR THAT I REALLY MISS REAL MEN LIKE YOU ALL! CAUSE IT'S NOT RIGHT TO MAKE, GODLY MEN & GODLY WOMEN , CLEAN UP BEHIND OTHERS WHO REFUSE TO JUST GROW UP, NO MATTER WHAT YOUR COMPANY NAME, OR HOSPITAL NAME IS, THIS IS FLAT OUT WICKEDNESS, YOU DON'T WELCOME A THIEF OF ANY KIND OF RACE OR, NATURE, WHEN A PERSON ENDS UP SNEAKING, OR FALSIFYING DOCUMENTS, JUST TO COME SOMEWHERE, YOU KNOW THEY HAVE THE WRONG TYPE OF SPIRIT( DISOBEDIENT, REBEL, REVOLT, IGNORANCE)!!!! THIS IS TRUE CORE OF THE PROBLEM IN THIS WORLD WE LIVE IN!!!! AND YOU WANT TO QUESTION WHY THINGS ARE HAPPENING, THAT'S THE ACTS OF INFIDELS, ALL OVER THE WORLD, I MEAN HOW IN THE HOCKEY, CAN YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH AND SPOUT OUT THIS CRAP& TRAP, WHEN YOU CAN'T EVEN CLEANUP ON THE STREETS WHEN YOU CRACK GLASS ON THE ROADS, OR BUD WEISER BOTTLES ON THE SIDE OF THE STREETS, WHAT THE HELL! I KNOW YOUR PARENTS DIDN'T TRAIN YOUR TRIFLING ASS, CAME OVER HERE WITH THIS DAMN POVERTY, STRICKEN MINDSET, SHHHHHHHOOOOOO NOOOOOOOOO, I DON'T APPRECIATE IT, CAUSE THIS IS SELFISHNESS IN THE CORE PIT OF THESE SUCKERS HEARTS, WE ALL KNOW I GOT TO REBUKE YOU ALL THROUGH THE BLOOD OF JESUS CHRIST OF NAZARETH, THIS DON'T MAKE NO DOG ON SENSE, I'M AN ADULT, BUT I DON'T NEED NOBODY, TO REPEAT TO ME THINGS I ALREADY KNOW THAT NEEDS TO BE DONE! THE PROBLEM IS THAT THESE STIFFNECKED, HAUGHTY, ARROGANT, AND PRIDEFUL STEP-ASS CHILDREN HAVE BEEN UP TO THEY STUFF AGAIN ABEOJI, OPPA, AND CHINGU PRINCE ARCHANGEL MICHEAL, AND OH SO BEAUTIFUL MR. FINE, MR. GET THE JOB DONE, DON'T TAKE NO STUFF FROM NO FOOL, MR. BRIGHT AND MORNING STAR OH OOH, HOLY, HOLY, WORTHY, WORTHY IS YOUR NAME DAILY AND ALWAYS MY SWEET OPPA- ALPHA AND OMEGA I GOT YOU ALL ON SPEED DIAL THESE DAYS AND DON'T MAKE ME CALL THEM, CAUSE I WILL DO IT IN A HEARTBEAT, BOOM,BOOM, BOP,BOP, DOP, TOP,!!!! I FEEL OH SO VERY GOOD, THAT I LOVE TELLING ON THEM, THIS IS OH SO VERY FUN, THAT'S WHAT THEY GET FOR UNDERESTIMATING YOUR BABY GIRL (ELS)  ABEOJI, TOUSAN,ONIISHAN,HEONG,OPPA,AND CHINGU, AND THE HOST OF HEAVEN, HOORAY I DID MY TASK FOR THE WEEKEND, LOL, LOL, LOL, I'M PRAISING YOU FOR ALL ETERNITY MY GOD, AND KING- REIGN KING OF GLORY, FOREVER, AND EVER, I LOVE YOU ALL OH SO VERY DEARLY, AND MAY YOUR PRAISE'S BE HEARD THROUGHOUT THIS EARTH THAT IT TOUCHES YOUR VERY HEART ABEOJI{OUR HEAVENLY FATHER GOD-EL ELYON& EL SHADDAI} IN JESUS MIGHTY NAME WE PRAY, AMEN!!!! TO GOD BE THE GLORY FOREVER, AND EVER, AMEN!!!!

[jackrrabbit]

🤍 Haikyuu WIP excerpts

preview post for hq because recently i showed sara a list of my works in progress and she laughed at me and then made a dn joke like this is 2015 or something. we got:

🤍 communal property /// ushijima x f!reader x tendou 🤍 sunshower /// atsumu x f!reader x osamu 🤍 corporate ethics /// kuroo x f!reader

anyway these are all terrible first drafts and i'm not sorry. however i am very very into these pieces and if you're interested in seeing them finished, you should tell me fr fr

🤍 communal property /// Ushijima x f!Reader x Tendou

Summary: Tendou shares everything with Ushijima—his food, his dorm room, even the AVs he likes. Why not his girlfriend, too?

Tags/warnings: poly relationship in progress (only you and Tendou are dating at this point), mild suggestiveness ??, s*ze k*nk

Status: 10k words written (holy fuck lol) out of ~11k total? this bitch better get finished is2g

After the match, your voice is hoarse from screaming but you still manage to yell congratulations for your boyfriend when you meet him and Ushijima outside the locker room in the stadium. You’re pumped on the adrenaline of the game, so you don’t even protest like you usually would when Tendou picks you up in the middle of your hug and lifts you off the ground effortlessly. “How was I? Awesome, right? I told you we would beat them!”

“You did, you so did—“ Even though your throat hurts, you can’t help gushing about every rally, every soul-crushing block, every impossible spike. “—and then the guy on the left thought he was clear to shoot it but you just—“ You throw your arms in the air and mime hitting the ball down like a blocker. “Wha-bam!—and the look on his face! I thought he was going to punch you!”

Tendou laughs and lays a sloppy kiss on your cheek, just as thrilled as you are by the win. “You really liked it that much? I thought you weren’t into sports.”

“I loved it! You were so cool! I can’t believe I’m dating someone so cool!” You wrap your legs around his back and hug his face close to yours, reveling in the fact that this weirdo belongs to you wholly and entirely, that you get to have him to yourself (well, other than his roommate). “And I’m not into sports, I’m into you.”

Tendou smiles in a way that makes the sides of his eyes crinkle up and little red patches bloom over his cheeks, a look that says, I like you so much (Y/N), I like you I like you I like you, except he’s probably trying not to be mushy like that since Ushijima is standing off to the side.

You feel a little bad for ignoring him (no one likes being the third wheel, even if he never shows signs of caring) so when Tendou sets you down you turn to Ushijima. “And you! Holy shit, Tendou said you were good, but I didn’t know you were that good. The ball when you hit it was super loud—honestly, how are your hands okay? If I hit it that hard I’d probably break something.”

“My hands are fine…this is normal for me.”

But just because you’ve got them here in front of you and you’re still pumped from the exhilaration of the win, you can’t help grabbing Ushijima’s hand and flipping it palm-up to inspect. True to his word, there’s no redness, just the calluses he’s built up on his long fingers. “Wow.”

“You don’t need to worry about Wakatoshi,” Tendou tells you, grinning and then making a face. “He’s a monster, he can handle it.”

“No kidding. You’re both monsters.” You put the base of your palm up against Ushijima’s to gauge the size of his hand against yours, and without prompting Tendou grabs your other hand to press against his own. Tendou’s fingers are a bit longer, but Ushijima’s are…thicker, more solid. Your hands look like a little kid’s in comparison. “Can I be honest? Half the time I was thinking I actually feel bad for the other team. If I had to take on both of you at the same time, I’d probably cry.”

You’re (mostly) joking, but it’s still a complete shock when you see the side of Ushijima’s mouth curl up a tiny bit. You’ve known each other for months at this point, but you’ve never seen him smile until now. Half of you is wondering if this is some kind of optical illusion caused by the atmosphere and the dim light of the stadium cutting through the evening, but the other half of you enjoys it. You made Ushijima smile. You did that.

“Don’t sell yourself short, (Y/N).” Ushijima says, tipping his head to the side.

“Yeah!” Tendou chimes in, resting his chin on top of your head and folding his arms around your neck from his place behind you. “I’m sure you could take both of us. Right, Wakatoshi?”

So that’s probably a sign.

🤍 sunshower /// Atsumu x f!Reader x Osamu

Summary: [Kitsune AU] You find an old Ō-Inari shrine in the woods that may not be as abandoned as it looks.

Tags/warnings: Shinto religion, this preview is biased toward tsumu oops, yearning/soft vibes

Status: 3.9k words written out of 5–6k? total

Atsumu was the one who found you.

That’s how he likes to talk about it, that he found you, like you’d still be wandering around lost in the woods if it weren’t for him. Osamu thinks you would have found your way back home eventually but Atsumu likes it better this way, this framing that makes it seem like they saved you.

It’s hard for him to tell time linearly the way humans do but you mention once that you’ve known them for a year and that seems to fit. It’s spring now, almost barely tipping into summer, and it was spring when Atsumu found you. He remembers because of the way it was raining: light and tender, a summer rain early in the season, each little drop tapping off a leaf and then rolling into the forest bed to be eaten up by the grass and the soil.

Atsumu likes the rain, likes the sweet earthy smell it makes and the way the plants look so lush and green and alive, like they’d bleed if he sunk his teeth into them. He was out in the woods because of the rain ('Samu was in the shrine, as usual, attempting to set buckets under the millions of holes in the roof so the rainwater wouldn’t pool and rot through the wood underneath). But Atsumu was half asleep in a tree when he heard you crashing through the undergrowth, tripping over ferns and snapping every twig in your path (thought ya might be a bear, he tells you later, that’s how loud ya were) but he wouldn’t really have woken up if he hadn’t heard you singing.

(The odd thing is, you weren’t actually singing. You remember that day as vividly as they do: the warm, humid air making your skin feel sticky under your yellow raincoat; the tiny raindrops filtering through the canopy and kissing your cheeks; the ink feathering out on the damp xerox of the old map you found in your great-aunt’s attic so you could barely make out the “X” that was supposed to mark the location of the lost Inari shrine… You were cursing how stupid you’d been to go on a wild goose chase into the mountains with no cell service and no marked trail to look for a shrine that no one had seen in decades. You definitely weren’t singing.)

But Atsumu remembers it differently. No matter how many times you explain that you were just talking to yourself, when he replays the sound of your voice back then (reaching and lilting and falling, the way the birds talk to each other in the early morning, except the music of it was poured into syllables and words), it sounds like you’re singing. He wasn’t sure at first, hadn’t heard a voice that wasn’t Osamu’s in so many years that he gets tired counting them, but then he saw you push into view from between two bushes and he thought, a human!

A girl, too—it was hard to say at first because you were wearing that weird, slick jacket of yours, so bright yellow it was like an oversized flower blooming out of the grass, but then you tilted your head up to feel the rain on your face and the hood fell down and he knew. Not just a human, a girl! Atsumu wanted to yell for Osamu, make him come and confirm that there was a person wandering around not a mile from the shrine. A real person! Singing and smiling and wiping the rain off her cheeks (does that mean you like the rain, just like he does? did you come out to feel it too?) But he also wanted to surprise Osamu so he hid his tails and his ears and came down from the tree and asked if you had lost your way in the forest, since you were so far from any path…

When you think back on this yourself you’re amazed that you just went with him: a strange boy (man?) wearing a fox mask and traditional Shinto priest robes, which were somehow pristine white and red despite him having appeared from nowhere in the middle of a dense forest, who told you he had no idea what direction the village was but he could take you to the Inari shrine you’d been searching for…well. Maybe you were too surprised to be wary, or maybe you were just exhausted and lost. But you like to think you had a sense of it even then, the irrational belief that the boy in the woods was not just a boy in the woods.

Atsumu thinks you knew. Humans always understand, even when they try not to… He remembers, he took your hand that day in the forest and you saw that the claws on his fingers were too long to be human, and you said nothing because on some level you already felt it. Your skin was cool then, smooth and damp from the rain; he wanted to stop, run his hands up your arms, touch the places on your face where your mouth had been turned up at the corners and press his fingers into your cheeks.

🤍 corporate ethics /// Kuroo x f!Reader

Summary: [Office AU] The new junior marketing associate just happens to be Kuroo’s favorite camgirl, and he’s having trouble keeping his hands to himself.

Tags/Warnings: boss/employee, businessman!Kuroo as a reformed player, camgirl reader, this excerpt has a lil bit of 18+ content 👀

Status: 1.2k words written out of 4k? words total

Kuroo doesn’t watch porn.

It’s not, like, a moral principle or something. He has nothing against pornography. As far as he knows, it’s perfectly normal for single men. He just doesn’t like it…unless it’s you.

When he was in school it was easy. Being a teenager meant being so flooded with hormones that a warm breeze could get him up, and the adrenaline rush of winning a game was better than any big-titted porn actress faking moans into a shit-quality boom mic. Sure, he watched porn back then (what teenage boy didn’t?), but it was more out of curiosity than necessity. It was all kind of a mystery at that point, the way it can only be when you’re a clueless virgin and you and all your friends are too busy practicing for the next game to get girls.

Somehow Bokuto was the first one in their friend group to lose his virginity, and the memory of the dumbass self-consciously describing the experience has been lodged in Kuroo’s brain for the 10+ years since. “It was…I don’t know. She smelled good. You know how girls always smell good?” Bokuto’s hands twitched and his face was pink. “It’s just really…soft.”

Soft was right, Kuroo would reflect when he got laid for the first time a few months later. Soft, warm, wet. Sex was awkward at first, but before he knew it it was more natural than breathing.

It didn’t change much after high school, either. He didn’t get into volleyball for the groupies, but they didn’t hurt. There were girls when he played for his college team, more girls when he joined a business frat, so many girls he couldn’t keep track…they blurred together after a while. It didn’t take effort. You don’t need game when you’re 6’2 and you’re in the gym 40 hours a week, and you definitely don’t need porn.

So he never got into it. Now that he’s promoting volleyball instead of playing, things are more complicated. Kuroo’s never been the type who expects things to fall in his lap, but there are so many rules when it comes to dating in the real world. Good morning texts, anniversaries, flowers, parents. It’s exhausting. One time—seriously, just one time—Kuroo misses his girlfriend’s birthday to go watch a Jackals game, and the next time he sees her she throws her drink on him in public and keys his car. After that, Kuroo decides that until he’s ready to settle down there will be no more girlfriends. Which means no more reliable sex. Which means resorting to porn.

Which means you.

You, batting your eyelashes at the camera and biting the side of your lip. You, purring and mewing like a kitten. You, lying back on your pretty pink bedsheets in your pretty pink lingerie, sliding your hands between your legs. It takes Kuroo a full month to decide to pay for access to your website (Kenma’s unsolicited recommendation) but it takes less than five minutes for him to upgrade access to premium. You look like a wet dream—no, you look like the centerfold of every dirty magazine Kuroo managed to get his hands on when he was younger. Pristine and alluring and so deliciously out of reach.

And you make it so simple. No delicate emotional games with rules Kuroo never bothered to learn. No pretending to care how your day was. You untie the little bows on the side of your panties and lick your fingers and Kuroo just has to take his dick out and watch you. Getting off hasn’t been this easy for him since college. You’re a camgirl, you exist on his computer screen, and that’s how he likes it.

Which makes it a lot more awkward when Kuroo finds out that the only woman he’s gotten off to in the past…year, maybe?…somehow just got hired in JVA’s sports promotion department as his junior associate.

Your prim work blouse is buttoned up to the collar and your makeup is different, but he knows it’s you. You have to tell him your name twice because he’s too stunned to respond the first time, and even then he can’t summon up more of a response than a curt nod because his mouth tastes like dirt.

You smile a little awkwardly at his cool reception, and the hand you’d extended out to shake swings back down to your side. “Um, the guy at HR said he sent up my info yesterday…I’ll be working directly underneath you?”

Directly underneath me. Kuroo is taking a sip of his coffee when you say this. He doesn’t spit it out, but it’s close.