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chasingpj · 3 years

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𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐳ó𝐧

pairing: leo valdez x gn reader

requested?: yes!

translation: the songs of my heart

summary: 10 songs that remind leo of you

warnings: implied nudity and uh? i think that's it

category: headcanons, fluff, angst, best friends to lovers

a/n: i had so much fun writing this! this concept was requested by my love, @quteez ♡. we have a shared playlist for leo with songs that we think he grew up listening to and enjoy and from that she got this idea for me! i tried to stay with songs strictly from the early 2000s but... i couldn't help myself for two of the choices. also credits to @slytherindaughterofposeidon0, your last post for leo helped me decide the last song for this project! i hope you guys enjoy it!

you and leo’s love story is a little rocky

the first time he thought of you while listening to this song, he was working on the engine for the argo

as he worked, he was listening to music

specifically, to his playlist of songs that remind him of when he helped his mom build things

yes, esperanza was a selena fan

the instrumental in the beginning took his focus off his work

he smiled fondly at the faint memory of his mother singing it in the kitchen while she did the dishes

but as he continued to listen to the lyrics, his heart sank as he’s reminded of the reason he was drowning himself in work; you

No me queda más. Que aguantar bien mi derrota y brindarte felicidad. I have nothing left but to endure my defeat with grace and wish you happiness

earlier that day, he had seen you with one of your guy friends

the both of you much too friendly to just be considered friends

then he had found out later that you were now dating him

he was left confused and hurt because he had thought that you guys had something

surely, the moments he held dear to his heart weren’t all in his head?

Y esto que no era amor. Lo que hoy niegas, lo que dices que nunca pasó es el más dulce recuerdo de mi vida. And this that was not love what you deny today; what you say that never happened is the sweetest memory of my life.

he recalled the moments you guys shared on the argo II

you decided that you’d stay late to keep him company one night, and that quickly turned into a routine

in his mind, he replayed the stolen glances, brushing of hands when you passed him tools, your giggles that made his heart flutter because he was the cause of them

he remembered how the curls at the front of his head kept falling into his eyes

he didn't notice you were watching him struggle to keep his hair out of the way

your small laugh caught his attention, and a smirk formed on his lips as you walked over

"you need a haircut, lee," you teased, carefully bunching his curls back into a bun with an extra hair tie on your wrist

the smile you gave him once you were done sent the butterflies in his stomach into a frenzy

"how do I look?" he asked playfully

"handsome," you smiled, making leo lost for words

yeah, he flirted with girls all the time, but when it came to you, someone he really liked, he often found himself tongue-tied

he didn't know what else to do but look away, mumbling a thanks under his breath and his cheeks felt warm under your amused gaze

Y aún guardaba una ilusión que alimentaba al corazón. Mi corazón que hoy tiene que verte como sólo amigo. And I still held onto the dream that fed my heart, my heart that now has to see you as just a friend.

in the last few months, the highlight of his days was seeing you

he enjoyed the many talks you guys had in bunker 9

And appreciated how you always could make him feel better when he was frustrated about his building

he had quickly decided that he could get used to it

the sound of his laughter with yours, the way you had a habit of playing with his hair, the friendly teases about his pointy ears; he fell in love with all of it

but now, things weren't the same

now you had a boyfriend and his days that usually ended with you became less and less

overnight, the idea of being with you had gone from a possibility to a fantasy

Porque esto sí fue amor, por mi parte, lo más lindo, el más grande amor y aunque siempre lo renuncies, para mí fue lo más bello. Because this was love for my part, the most beautiful, the greatest love, and even if you will always renounce it, for me, it was the most beautiful thing.

even though the heavy pit in his stomach burdened him as he dwelled on how you probably never felt the same

as temporary as it was, he never regretted his feelings and the time he had spent with you

and though it was unlikely, he still held on to the hope that you’d come back to him

El tiempo no ha logrado que te olvide. No ha borrado las huellas de tu amor. The time hasn't managed to make me forget you. Your love gave wings to my love.

the tension between you and leo only worsened after the both of you were in relationships

your feelings for leo that were held dormant in the back of your mind came back with a vengeance when he was with calypso

this song reminds leo of that time because it wasn't until then did he consider that you could have feelings for him

he noticed once how you turned away fast after he caught you looking at him and calypso

how you only approached him when he was alone

and refrained from bringing her up

it was much different than how he was with you and your boyfriend

he had grown used to seeing you with him, and he was never hesitant to speak to you when you were together because you were still his friend

he thought perhaps he was taking your behavior the wrong way

one day, you decided to hang out with him in bunker 9

as he worked, he listened to you talk about the new book you were reading

he hummed, chuckled, and commented on what you were saying, making sure you knew he was listening

suddenly, you halted with the sound of the bunker door opening

he furrowed his eyebrows at the silence before turning around and seeing his girlfriend, calypso, at the doorway

usually, upon seeing her, he’d smile, and she’ll come over, and he’ll press a kiss on her forehead, but the tension that took over the room made him hesitate

he didn’t quite understand why you had stopped mid-sentence, and now you were suddenly interested in the stray tools on the table beside you

your sudden change made him feel like speaking with you alone was wrong

but he pushed away the emotions he couldn’t quite identify as he greeted his girlfriend just like he always does

Y yo no quiero seguir así estando con ella y pensando en ti. A mí me está pasando igual. No dejo de pensar en ti. And I don't want to go on like this, being with her and thinking of you. I'm spending my time just the same. I can't stop thinking of you.

as leo continued to date calypso, he found himself asking if he was dating her because he liked her or if she was a distraction from his feelings for you

because when he was alone with her, everything was fine

he was content, and he felt the excitement of a new relationship

but when he hung out with you, the butterflies and the way he had to remind himself to stop admiring you never faded

it should have faded? right?

Qué tontos, qué locos, somos tú y yo estando con otros y amándonos How stupid, how crazy we are being with other people and in love with each other

he remembered sitting at the campfire beside piper, admiring at you from across the pavilion

you were laughing with your siblings about something, and he smiled at how bright your expression was

he didn't realize how he looked at you with longing, so much so that piper had picked up on his emotion

of course, she knew that leo liked you before calypso, but she wasn't aware of how his feelings had grown for you

her scoff caught his attention, and she shook her head

"you guys are dumb, i don't know why you didn't say anything sooner"

he remembered how defensive he got

"what are you talking about?"

piper rolled her eyes, turning back to her marshmallow roasting over the fire

"i don't like them," leo blurted out, quick to defend himself, and the side of piper's mouth pulled up in a smirk

"yeah, okay," she said sarcastically, amused at the huff that came out of leo's mouth

now that you are together, he'll listen to the song and smile, returning to that memory

and he had to admit that piper was right; the both of you were pretty dumb

Hay una mujer que domina mis sentidos con sólo tocar mi piel. Y como a mí también a otro hombre esto le puede suceder, se puede enamorar There is a woman that dominates my senses only by touching my skin. And like me, it can happen to another man that only with a kiss, he could fall in love.

leo knew he was in love with you before he even got to kiss you

but after feeling your lips, it had enhanced his feelings for you

your relationships fell apart as fast as they had come together

after taking a while of getting over the breakup, you and leo had eventually returned to each other

it was awkward at first as the both of you still held feelings for the other person

you guys took walks around camp, sat under trees, and talked for hours

nostalgic of the flourishing of your friendship from the beginning

your first kiss was in the winter

you both sat outside of bunker 9 near the fire pit leo had made

you huddled as close as you could to the fire without getting burned, and leo sat beside you

at first, the two of you sat in silence, more focused on keeping warm

you scooted closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder as your eyes remained fixed on the flame in front of you

leo remembers how he tensed up, how his heart began to race

he looked down at your face, and you moved up, looking up to meet his gaze

the moment was so right, the urge to kiss you in his stomach festered

but leo was hesitant, afraid that you would reject him

so if you didn't lean in, pressing your lips into his, he would probably have cracked a joke and missed the opportunity

Su boca es tan sensual. Me cautiva y me excita, no me canso de besar. Her mouth is so sensual. It captivates and excites me; I never get tired of kissing.

your first kiss was longer than expected

leo's hand rested on your cheek, and you shifted to face him, one hand resting near his jaw as if to keep him close

his lips followed the rhythm of yours, and the last thing on his mind was pulling away

the both of you savored your first kiss as it increasingly became eager and impatient

when you reluctantly pulled away, you were out of breath

leo's brown eyes were filled with awe

leo remembered how dumb he felt for not saying how he felt sooner

as your pretty eyes gazing into his, finally confessing the words he thought he'd never hear, "lee, i like you, i've always had"

his heart sank, along with the excitement of his fluttering stomach

all the mixed emotions and heartbreak could have been avoided; all the time you guys had wasted suppressing your feelings you could never get back

and all of it would have never occurred if one of you had said something earlier

but he couldn't dwell on it too long, and he quickly saw no point in dwelling

because as your wide eyes remained fixed on him, nervously waiting for his answer and the way the fire cast light on your pretty face

the only thing on his mind was how grateful he was that this moment had even happened

and as he pressed his lips back into yours, every thought in his mind dissipated as you, and the feeling of your lips on his was the only thing he could focus on

¿Para qué correr si no hay apuro? Si es que cada vez que estamos juntos el tiempo se detiene y desaparece. Why run if there is no rush? If every time we are together, time stops and disappears.

the lyrics of this song isn’t the only thing that reminds leo about your relationship

it’s everything from the instrumental to the dreamy sound of the artist’s voice

it perfectly captures the fluttery, gentle, almost surreal feeling he gets when he’s with you

even at the beginning of your relationship, there was never an awkward moment

it was as if you picked up right where you left off

you both went back to the late nights in bunker 9, and the lingering touches and glances had returned

he never felt like he needed to rush when he was with you

like the way he felt he had to rush to finish a part of his project by dawn because the hours would pass by much too fast as he worked

when he spent the night with you, somehow, the minutes felt like they went by slower

you made his responsibilities in the morning feel miles away

in bunker 9, or when you snuck out to look at the stars laying shoulder-to-shoulder, it felt like you were the only people in the world with no obligation to anyone but to each other

you took things slow, too

neither of you saw the point in rushing milestones in your relationship

and the innocence of the beginning of your relationship is something leo cherishes

he smiled fondly at his previous hesitance of holding your hand in public; the gesture subtle, but it effectively announced to the world that you were his and he was yours

the shy kisses; how he worried if he was kissing you too much or too long even though you craved his lips just as much as he did yours

the surprise at your affection; how he’d melt as you played with his hair, twirling his curls with your fingers, or massaged your shoulders to cox him into taking a break

the way he froze, not sure where to put his hands when you snuggled into his side on the old couch in bunker 9

even though he felt pins and needles in his arm after resting it under your head, he didn’t dare to move, not ready to give up the feeling your body pressed against his

and your kind words that made his cheeks heat up and even caused his nose or the tips of his ear to catch on fire

Ya no me hace falta nada más si lo más difícil de encontrar. Lo encontré contigo y nadie más. I'm not missing anything else. The most difficult thing is to find. I found it with you and no one else.

he had hoped that his personality could get someone, but you were more than he expected

you made him feel complete

because the biggest lesson you taught him was that not only did he deserve every kind word, every kind act that came from you, and more

but that he also deserved to be unapologetically happy

Mi corazoncito está de luto por tu amor. Prendió dos velitas y te escribió una canción, es un poco necio y se llena de complejos. My little heart is fighting for your love. I light two candles, and I write you a song. It’s a bit foolish, and it’s filled with complexes.

this song is dear to both of you because it's the first song you guys danced to in your shared apartment

as you and leo unpacked, marking the first day of a new chapter in your relationship, this song began to play

leo smiled and called your name

you looked up from the box of clothes, and leo was standing in front of you, offering his hand

you raised an eyebrow as he gave you a smile

"dance with me?"

without a second thought, you took his hand

if you do know how to dance bachata, the two of you found the rhythm quick

your bodies will be pressed closed, turning and switching up your steps as you dance across the hallway

he might press little kisses on your neck and playfully ask, "since when have you been such a good dancer?”

if you don't, it's okay, leo would take his time to teach you

he'll show you the steps, chuckling when you would accidentally step on his feet

he'd think it’s really cute how you get embarrassed when you mess up

as you begin to catch the rhythm, you become relaxed, and leo will praise you for being such a quick learner

Que el corazoncito es mío, mío, mío, mío, mío, mío. Yo soy el poeta de mil penas y tú eres mi condena That the little heart is mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine. I’m the poet of a thousand sorrows, and you’re my burden

as you guys dance, he'll press his forehead against yours

you'll give you a cute little smile and grasp the sides of your face as he sings this verse to you

he's right; your heart is his and only his

that scary feeling when he acknowledges how much he's in love with you which is usually followed by the paranoia of losing you is the only burden he'd willingly carry

because at the end of the day, when you're laid beside him or when you guys laugh together until you can't breathe, or when you tell him how much you love him, that burden is always lightened

leo's first car was, of course, a project

because why would he buy a car ready to be driven around?

he bought a beat-up car and made it his summer project to fix it up

well… before he was able to fix it up, it looked pretty bad for a while

especially since he got caught up with doing a big project for new rome and his three-month project turned more into a 9-month project

he knew how much you hated the car, and he found it hilarious

he had stripped the car of paint, so for a good month and a half, it looked like just a metal casing with wheels

one night, you needed to go on a quick run to the pharmacy

and you had to get into that god-forsaken car

"it's not that bad, mi amor."

"lee… it's bad."

leo looked at his car, and he cringed, "yeah, it's bad," he admits as he gets in, and you hesitantly get in after him

on your run, leo turns on the spanish radio for background noise

suddenly, la carcacha plays, and the both of you get excited

after being with him for a long time, you've listened to selena's entire discography and even picked up some spanish

Un carro viejo que viene pitando con llantas de triciclo y el motor al revés. En la esquina yo esperando como siempre su novia fiel. An old car comes honking down the street with the wheels of a tricycle and the engine the wrong way around. As usual in the corner, I'm waiting; his faithful girlfriend.

the both of you sang the first verse, and it slowly hit you

as leo pulls up to a red light, the two of you slowly exchanged a look before bursting out laughing

"babe! that's us!" he shouted over the music, making you laugh even more

Aunque sea pobre y tenga un carro viejo. Me trata como reina, un hombre de verdad Even though he is poor and his car is old. He treats me like a queen, a real man

it became a huge inside joke

from that day on, you referred to the car as carcacha, and that metal casing on wheels had a soft spot in your heart

you told leo this, and he joked that he’d keep it that way forever

you side-eyed him, and that told him enough that you definitely didn't want that

this song just reminds him how you've always taken him for who he is

you didn't care about material; you just cared about his character and how happy he made you

you knew as long as you were with him, you guys would figure things out

Mamita yo se que tu no te me va' a quitar. Lo que me gusta es que tu te dejas llevar. To los weekenes ella sale a vacilar. Mamita, I already know that you won't quit. What I like is that you allow to be taken away. All the weekends she goes out to have fun.

his car didn’t always stay beat up

once he finished with his project for new rome, he put his complete focus on his car

within a couple of months, he painted it, got new wheels, fixed the interior, and finally, it looked like a proper car

it was almost unrecognizable

you were the first person he showed it to because he was so proud of it

and you made sure he knew how proud you were

he then suggested going on a drive, and you agreed

it was a beautiful spring day, around 7 pm, and the sun was beginning to set

with the window rolled down, you guys blasted all your favorite songs

every time he listens to this song, he thinks about how ethereal you looked in the golden hue of the setting sun

your pretty smile as you sang to the chorus of the song, laughing at the way he mimicked the artist’s voice

your shocked face when he explained to you what gasolina meant in this context (if you didn’t know already)

the liberating feeling of driving on the highway with no real direction

and if he could live in that memory forever, he would

Bombo, dile que ya voy, que me espere un momentico asi, mientras canto un guaguancó. Dile que no es un desprecio, pues vive en mi corazón. Bongo, tell her that I’m coming and to spare me a moment while I’m singing a guaguanco. Tell her I don’t mean any disrespect, for she lives in my heart

leo always jokes that he slowly became his mother as he got older

one example of this was him unofficially deciding that saturday morning will be your cleaning days

this happened so organically, and he didn't even notice that he was doing it until you pointed it out

when you moved in with him, you didn't think this was something you'd have to deal with

but a part of you wasn't surprised when you woke up on one saturday, this song blaring through your apartment, leo singing just loud enough to be heard over the music

leo remembers how you lazily opened the door to your bedroom, eyes squinted and unadjusted to the bright sun coming through the windows of your apartment

through your eyelashes, you're met with leo, who was way too energetic for 8 am

"lee… what-?"

"come dance with me!"

suddenly he pulled you by your wrist and dances with you

well, more like he dragged your drowsy body around as he danced

"wow, mi amor! half asleep, and you're still the best dancer."

you smile sleepily and groan, wanting to go back to bed with him, but it was clear leo had other plans

before you could try and suggest it, he shoved a broomstick in your hand and said

"ponte a limpiar"

(start cleaning)

if your mother did this, you might have gotten flashbacks HAHA

leo turns around before he freezes

he looks at you, a puzzled expression across his face before he said: "gods, I'm becoming like my mother."

you laughed and shook your head, insisting that you should probably wash up before you clean

then you both cleaned for more of the day, playing all kinds of music, occasionally stopping to dance

and when the song played later in the day, you made up for the sleepy dancing

from that saturday to the next, leo always made sure he played that song first thing in the mornings to wake you up to clean

Bésame y a destiempo; sin piedad y en silencio. Bésame, frena el tiempo. Haz crecer lo que siento. Kiss me and untimely; without mercy and in silence. Kiss me, stop the time and flourish what I feel.

life isn’t guaranteed, it can be taken at virtually any moment, and you and Leo are well aware of the fact

being a demi-god isn’t easy, and there’s always that worry that something might happen to the other person or there’ll be another big war to fight in

that feeling that time stops when leo’s with you never really fades

the nights before he goes on quests or before you do, you two will savor the night before

because as much as you don’t want to think about it, it could be the last night you’ll spend together

the both of you will get lost in your kisses, neither dwelling on time

and pretending as if the morning will never come

basking in the comfort of knowing that you’re with each other and safe in your little bubble of sheets

your kisses range from featherlight sleepy pecks to slow open-mouthed kisses that make your face get hot and your stomach flutter like crazy

Bésame, como si el mundo se acabara después y beso a beso pon el cielo al revés. Bésame sin razón porque quiere el corazón Kiss me, as if the world will end tomorrow, then kiss by kiss, place the sky upside down. Kiss me without reason because our hearts want it to

every kiss somehow conveys the utter passion, devotion, and love you guys have

that none of these aspects have any other motive but for your raw desire for each other

the sleepy kisses where the both of you are half asleep, but you continue to kiss each other as if it's second nature

it shows how consistent you've been for each other

it's a consistency that leo wasn't used to at first

and is so grateful for it now

overall, to him, it doesn't matter how the war or the quests concludes

because if making his way back to you is the only success he can claim, then he'd be content

La noche y tú. Vive la luna enamorada y al contemplarla, en su mirada me hace soñar. The night and you. The moon is in love, and while contemplating her, her glance makes me dream.

this song faintly played in the background during one of your many baths together

leo’s arms wrapped around your waist, your back pressed against his chest

he littered soft kisses on your shoulder, and a faint smile formed on his face as you tilted your head in the opposite direction, giving his lips more skin to access

his eyes flickered up to your face, your eyes closed, expression relaxed in the dim candlelight

you sighed softly, putty in his arms as his nose moved up your neck, his warm breath on your skin making your arms rise in goosebumps

“bonita?” he called your name softly and you hum to notify him that you were listening

“te amo más de lo que puedas imaginar," he whispered

(i love you more than you can imagine)

your eyes opened slow as you smiled softly, the sound of his voice making your cheeks warm up

“how am i supposed to top that?” you asked, your giggles and his laugh bounced off the tiles of your bathroom

“don’t. just tell me you love me too,” he teased and you nodded, using the spanish he’s taught you throughout the years to say:

“yo también te amo”

(i love you too)

Revelación que me extasía: raro esplendor de fantasía, que vive en ti. Revelation that makes me feel the ecstasy: the rare splendor of fantasy that lives within you.

his heart skipped a beat

your voice sounding adorable as you spoke his mother tongue

as he gazed into your eyes, taking in the wonder, the fantasy of your future together

he can't imagine anyone else he'd like to explore it with

masterlists taglist: @nct127bee @minamisulemisa @yanfeisluvr @cartocns @Slytherclaw-kitten @idk-bye-no @percysbluehairbrush @Hermioneswifeee @quteez @drayshadow @ashookykooky @anything-forourmoony @loverstyless @natasharomanoffstan @ohmydamgods @jordannfields

if your username is bolded that means i can't tag you ! you probably have your visibility settings on!

#leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x you #leo valdez imagine #leo valdez one shot #leo valdez fluff #leo valdez headcanon #my writing #heroes of olympus #hoo #heroes of olympus imagine #leo valdez angst #leo valdez fanart #leo valdez x y/n

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jaydicksummerexchange · 4 years

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JAYDICK EXCHANGE: SEPTEMBER 3

[ ❤ Works posted so far! ❤ ]

SECOND TO LAST DAY OF THE JAYDICK EXCHANGE!

Why the second to last instead of the last? That’s because we’ve reached 114 Exchange works for 2020! The more treats get added, the more we time we add to our juicy cabooses and keep the exchange train rolling. Until Saturday that is. Tomorrow is the final posting date, and we’ll reveal the wonderful participants on September 5 no matter what.

Here are today’s releases!

Claws by anonymous for solomonara [ART, Not Rated, No Archive Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: FanartHurt/Comfort, Injured Jason, Secret Identity, dick's teams don't know the red hood's identity, dick's harem of morally ambiguous older men, dick: he's not older, dick: wait i mean he's not my villain boyfriend, dick: damn it

Summary: Dick takes the Red Hood to a Titan safehouse after an injury. Explanations are expected.

Learning To Love The Fall by anonymous for 3isme [ART, Teen, No Warnings Apply, JayDick]

Additional Tags: Fanart, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Mechanic Jason Todd, Plane Pilot Dick Grayson

Summary: It's the early 1900s and the country of Gotham is recovering from a long war.

Trying to get a better life, Jason Todd has been moonlighting as an underground plane mechanic for illegal aeroplane racers, getting a cut of whatever the pilot wins. After one particular competition, he's accused of sabotage and, despite his protests, forced into deeper debt. At the end of his rope, he runs into Dick Grayson, ex-ace of the Gotham Air Force and supposed dead man. The war hero was supposed to have been shot down near the end of the war. Regardless, this pilot is the best chance Jason has to grab hold of that better life, and he's not going to let it go.

The Still and Quiet Surface by anonymous for TheWayneManner [FIC, General Audiences, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Gift Fic, Ficlet

Summary: Dick leaves the sea behind and never looks back.

Scents & Sensibility by anonymous for Nitrojen [FIC, Explicit, No Warnings, JayDick]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Regency, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fae, References to Jane Austen, although the writer has a pretty dark secret concerning our dear friend jane, Getting to Know Each Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: Prompt - Something along the lines of the Princess and the Pea. It can be A/B/O, modern, fantasy, or even something that takes place in canon where there's some kind of curse. Have fun with it!

Give It A Shot (of espresso) by anonymous for morimaiter [FIC, Teen, No Warnings, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Hurt/Comfort, Barista Jason Todd, Flirting, Awkward Flirting, Sexual Tension, JayDick Summer Exchange, very minor injury, art included

Summary: Dick was one of their regulars. And yes, that was his real name. The first time he’d asked Jason to write it on his cup Jason had given him a death glare until the man had whipped out a driver’s license to prove it. ‘Richard John Grayson’, printed right there. It hadn’t been an innuendo after all, just an unfortunate choice of nickname. He came into Gotham Grinders (and hell if Jason hadn’t heard enough innuendos about that name to make up for any lack of innuendo in Dick’s own) every Tuesday and Friday, which happened to always be Jason’s shifts. Every time he asks for some new over-the-top order, and every time without fail he also asks for Jason’s digits. Jason replies every time with:

“I’m sorry sir, we can’t give out personal information to customers. Will that complete your order?”

(Fic + Art)

Lazy Days by anonymous for BehindTheRobinsMask [ART, Teen, No Warnings, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Married Life, Married Couple, Established Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Literal Sleeping Together, Lazy Mornings, Domestic Fluff, Fanart

Summary: It's the weekend! Jason and Dick sleep in after a long night on the streets.

Taken in the Butt by the Gay Vigilante Acro-Bird by anonymous for solomonara [ART, Teen, No Warnings, JayDick]

Additional Tags: Romance Novel, Cover Art, Jason Todd is an Author, Partial Nudity, Birds, Vintage Gay Pulp Novels, Chuck Tingle-Adjacent, Please Forgive me, FanartDigital Art, JayDick Summer Exchange

Summary: The Red Hood has a secret: he's a part-time romance novelist.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Between The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea by anonymous for stribird (timidGoddess) [FIC, Mature, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Heavy Angst, Self-Doubt, Lazarus Pit, Panic Attacks, Established Relationship, Bad Decisions, Romantic Fluff, Amnesia, Broken Promises, Road Trips, On the Run

Summary: Jason couldn’t do that. He could never forget what Dick meant to him. Which is why he had to bring his Bluebird back. Which is why he had to remind Dick of everything that he had lost.

Even if that meant forcing him into the Lazarus Pit. Even if it meant cursing him in the process.

tell your boyfriend, if he says he's got beef, that i'm a vegetarian (and i ain't fucking scared of him) by anonymous for prompt_fills [Mature, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Fluff and Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, Damian Wayne is a Little Shit, Protective Damian Wayne, POV Damian Wayne, Batman: Reborn, Jason Todd has a Heart, Damian Wayne Has a Heart, Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne’s Parent, Dick Grayson is Batman, Mutual Pining, enemies to idiots to lovers, Misunderstandings, Damian Wayne Plays Therapist, Jason Todd is Bad at Feelings, Dick Grayson is Bad at Feelings, My Continued Mocking of Tim Drake (it's loving i swear), Donna Troy is a goddess and no one deserves her, My love for Donna Troy is so strong that I projected it onto Damian and I am not sorry, Unbetaed we die like Jason Todd refuses to, Past Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Jealous Jason Todd, Pining Dick Grayson, BAMF Donna Troy AND MORE

Summary: It had taken a few weeks for Damian’s ill-fated hopes for the more platonic explanation of Grayson’s unseemly conduct regarding Todd to expire because Damian (unlike Drake) is not an idiot (and Brown had prattled on about every instance of very clearly not platonically fueled tension, slowly crushing Damian’s remaining hopes for Richard’s taste in romantic partners). Denial, heavenly as he has now known it to be, can only take one so far. And as a pragmatist and the grandson of the great Ra’s al Ghul and son of the great Bruce Wayne, he assesses the situation from a logical perspective, free of any emotions clouding his impeccable judgment, and comes up with a solution that benefits both himself and Grayson.

Jason Todd must die.

Or the story of how Damian Wayne became the number one shipper of JayDick and is not at all happy about it.

Si solo fueras tú by anonymous for fallogory [ART, Gen, Creator Chose No Warnings, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Fanart, Kid Dick Grayson, Adult Dick Grayson, Kid Jason Todd, Adult Jason Todd, King Bruce Wayne, Prince Damian Wayne, Prince Dick Grayson, Poor Jason Todd, Hurt Dick Grayson, Jealous Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug

Summary: Blue came first

Then Green arrives

Then Blue meet Red

And Green hate that

Or where Dick was Bruce's bastard child who was forced to lived like a prince until Damian's born and meet someone who make his world be upside down.

the smell of cold stone by anonymous for abcission [FIC, Mature, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Dick Grayson, Autumn, American Football, College Football, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Getting to Know Each Other, Getting Together, referenced Jason/Kyle, Past Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Past Dick Grayson/Roy Harper, past dick grayson/wally west - Freeform, implied Roy/Kory, implied Roy/Wally, implied Donna/Kyle, future besties Jason and Roy, Roy's eternal crush on Donna, frat boy Dick, Fluff

Summary: Their eyes meet on the quad one day; he’ll probably never see the frat boy again, but he’ll be nice fodder for Jason’s dreams at least.

#2020 jaydick exchange #dcu fanfic #jaydick summertime blues.#jaydick #dickjay #dick grayson & jason todd

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fritae · 3 years

Text

The Missing Piece : Chapter 1

Gang leader! AU / Corporate! AU

Characters: Dabi x F/OC

Status: Ongoing

Summary:

Rina Aoki is the secretary of one of the world's biggest broadcasting stations - only she hates her job and wakes up everyday asking herself if this is all there is to life. Then, she meets Dabi: a man of overpowering confidence and many, many secrets. But beneath all that confidence is a wounded soul and years' worth of repressed anger. The two struggle with fear, ambition, vulnerability - but eventually learn that life may just be better when you don't have to struggle alone.

A/N:

There are no quirks in this story. I tried to give it a real world spin. But it will explore dynamics between good and evil, right and wrong, and feelings of family, friendship, love and belonging. I'm super excited about the story and I hope you enjoy it!Chapter 1: the meeting

Chapter One: The Meeting

It was raining.

I hide my tote under my coat out of fear for my laptop. If it gets wet, I'm done for. My boss isn't exactly the most considerate person out there. If anything were to happen to the highly coveted files on it, I might as well hand in my resignation.

I sigh with relief once the bus arrives, and quickly hurry inside.

As I find a seat, I lean my head against the window, not caring for germs or the subtle tremble of the glass. It feels cool against my skin, and not as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. But more importantly, it is distracting. It'll give me something else to focus on during the ride.

At least I hoped so.

But within minutes, it becomes clear that my mind has no intention of being distracted. The thoughts creep in and suddenly the soft hum of the engine is no match against the throbbing in my head.

Of course not.

Distractions simply don't last long these days.

So I surrender to the thoughts as I stare at the passing streets, feeling increasingly empty by the minute.

I hate my job. I hate everything about it. Working as a secretary for a broadcasting company is a dream for many. The salary isn't bad. I have access to exclusive events and frequently coordinate with the biggest names in the industry. I know the ins and outs of selling an idea and making it resonate with millions.

But I quickly learned all the people in this industry are insufferable. The whole premise rests upon the art of manipulation, taking something that may very well be worthless and conning people into thinking it will fill a hole they didn't even know they had. The people are superficial, be it actors or other famous personalities. Everyone is so obsessed with images. How to best put on a show to gain the love and admiration of millions.

But what use is their love if it's built upon the distortion of reality?

I shake my head before burying it in my palms.

No matter, I tell myself.

As frustrating and unfulfilling as the work may be, it pays the bills and keeps me busy.

A little too busy...

I get up once my stop arrives. I say a quick thank you to the bus driver before hurrying out.

The cold makes me shiver and I pull my skirt to cover more of my thighs before plastering a fake smile onto my face.

The fake smile is part of the uniform here.

My heels click together with attitude as I make my way through the building. The noise hits my ears immediately. Loud chattering, blaring music and upbeat announcements stand in sharp contrast to the calm of the rainy world outside. I blow kisses as my colleagues call out my name from the studio floor.

My friend and roommate Aliyah takes off her headset to wave me over. She left home extra early today owing to her busy schedule as floor manager. The glaring lights tell me they're about to start shooting but as much as I want to help her with final preparations, I have more important things to worry about right now.

"Can't talk now, Al!" I say apologetically. With one point to my tote bag, she understands. "Good luck!" she shouts back, before returning her attention to the production crew.

I sigh.

I will definitely need all the luck I can get.

I take the elevator up to the highest floor of the company. While our studios are bright, loud and fun. The offices are formal, professional and characteristic of a multibillion dollar company. I knock twice before heading into the largest office at the end of the hall, where my boss is waiting for me. The letters NNTV adorn the walls in an elegant gold print behind him.

A pair of glasses sits on the bridge of Mr. Lane's nose as he reads over today's reports.

"You're late, Ms. Aoki." He says without looking up.

"Apologies, sir. It was unexpected."

"Do I not say to account for the unexpected in your planning, Ms. Aoki?"

"It won't happen again, sir."

He offers me a *tsk* in response.

"Our ratings have gone down this month. Much more than we anticipated." Mr. Lane grumbles.

"CBS' new reality show has attracted a lot of viewers, sir. It's competing with our usual broadcasts at-."

"Then why have you not found a program to substitute whatever we usually air at that time?"

I bite back a sigh. "The current schedule is the most optimal, sir. If we switch around any programs we risk affecting the viewership of The Midnight Show and Killer."

"Well then figure something out!" He barks. "That's what your job is, isn't it?"

"We have a team for a reason, sir. Perhaps we can consult them today? I can schedule an emergency meeting to address this."

I say this knowing the rest of the team won't alter the schedule. The nature of the industry is ratings fluctuate all the time. To change our scheduling at every hint of a drop will only harm our future ratings.

He waves me away. "Schedule it for two hours from now. Cancel anything else I have at that time."

"Yes sir." I confirm, before turning around.

My nostrils seethe as I suddenly hear him mutter *Useless* under his breath.

The rest of the day is spent taking more orders and backtracking on Mr. Lane's previous decisions. Just as I'd expected, the board decided it would be better to simply wait out the next two weeks until the current programs are finished before rearranging any of the schedules. I make a mental note to consider what might be a suitable alternative in the meantime.

The hours drag on. I should have been done at 5, but 7 o clock hits and I'm still taking phone call after phone call. It isn't until a quarter to 9 that I can finally go home.

I sigh as I pass the much quieter studio floor on the way out. I don't find Aliyah among the crew, but I'm sure she's taking care of her own things at the moment. The Midnight Show is scheduled for well, midnight, so she's probably taking a final break before her last project of the night.

Once I am outside, I let out a deep breath I didn't know I was holding in. Instead of taking the bus straight home, I find myself walking toward Café Du Monde. It sits a few blocks away from the NNTV building.

The smell of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries greets me as I enter. The soft jazz is welcomed by my ears after a day of nonstop chatter and corporate debate.

As I stand in line, I remind myself to pick up coffees before I leave for the crew working late tonight. Hopefully Aliyah will be back by then.

---

"Shit," I hear the man ahead of me in line mutter. "I think I forgot my wallet back in the office."

He checks his pockets again, but finding them empty he looks up at the cashier. "Sorry man, I'll be back another day."

But before he could walk away, I step up to the register. "It's okay, I got it."

He glances at me. "Nah, don't-"

"It's nothing. Can you add another coffee to the order please?"

The cashier punches a few numbers into the register and I hand him a 20.

---

The man tips his hand in thanks. I nod back at him and walk up to the roof.

With a coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other, I sigh. Now to get the day out of my system...

"How can I repay you," A smooth voice says behind me.

I look over my shoulder to see the man walk up to the ledge with me. He has electrifying blue eyes, a head of thick dark hair, and the kind of walk that signifies authority.

"You good at conversation?" I ask.

He thinks for a moment. "How about I let you be the judge of that?"

I pass the man a cigarette. "Then distract me."

"You don't look like the type to smoke." He comments before accepting it.

"Looks can be deceiving." I shrug.

"It feel good or something?"

"Or something." I confirm with a smile. "Just reminds me to breathe in," and with a soft easing in my chest, "and breathe out."

He leans back against the railing. "Hm. You know breathing quality isn't exactly what people would associate with cigarettes."

I roll my eyes. "You know what I mean."

The man chuckles. "Yeah. Although I think rearranging a few things in your life would help more than smoking. Don't want to grow reliant on an outside source for relief now."

"Well, well. Wasn't aware I was speaking to a mental health guru."

He seems amused by that. "That's not what the people working for me would say but it's nice to know their sentiments aren't universal."

"Ah. So you're a shitty boss."

"I'm just a boss." He corrects. "What people think of me has nothing to do with me."

"Must be nice to believe that." I sigh, taking another puff of my roll.

"No reason not to, eh? Letting others' opinions matter to you means you lose power over yourself. There's nothing you could want from them that you can't do for yourself."

"Money?" I suggest.

"That's easy. But it depends on how willing you are to work for it."

"Work quite a lot." I scowl. "...starting to wonder if it's worth the headache, to be honest."

The man leans closer to me, his breath warm against my ear. I try not to focus on the scent of his cologne, musky with notes of amber and cedar wood. "Then what you want isn't really money. Sounds like you want more."

"More?"

"Yeah. Money by itself isn't satisfying," He says matter of factly. He leans away to take a sip of his coffee. "Only when it's coupled with a goal."

"Hm."

"Money doesn't take you anywhere; it's just a means to an end." He continues. There's an air of mystery behind those turquoise eyes of his. "Your goal is what guides you. Where do you want to go?"

Someone in this neighborhood that doesn't live and die for money? I almost want to laugh. What goal guides him then? What does he stay alive for?

But I keep those questions to myself. I shouldn't get too close to a man I'll never see again.

"I want to be my own boss." I say with a soft smile. Be my own boss. Wouldn't that be nice? No more waking up with Mr. Lane's voice already echoing in my head. No more plastering fake smiles and maintaining that "professional" semblance for hours on end. "I'm tired of taking orders from other people."

I almost miss the sudden gleam in his eye.

"Now that's more like it."

---

I leave the cafe with a box of donuts in one hand and a coffee tote in the other.

I said goodbye to the stranger, happy to have shared these thoughts with someone. It strikes me that I didn't even ask his name.

I shrug. Perhaps that's the magic of moments like these. The universe puts us in places we don't expect to be in. Brings two strangers together and they realize maybe this meeting was just what they needed today. The man got his coffee and I...I was able to let my thoughts run freely.

At least for a while.

"And now we abandon the fantasies and return to reality," I mutter with a sigh. I hook my pinkie with the large glass double doors of NNTV and pull the handle toward me.

There's a small audience present now, the guests for the Midnight Show. I walk around them and smile when I find Aliyah, arms crossed and eyes trained on the set, trying to catch any faults before we air.

"Al!" I call out in a whisper. She immediately looks my way, face lighting up at the sight of the coffee.

"Oh, you're a lifesaver!" She says excitedly as she takes the sweets from my hand. "Hey Joe, set this up for the crew, will ya?"

An intern shuffles forward and takes the bags anxiously to prepare a little station for the team.

"How'd you know I needed the coffee?" She smiles at me.

"Because I needed the coffee," I say with a laugh. "And you've been awake far longer than I have."

Aliyah laughs and rubs her eyes. "I forget how much time I spend here sometimes. No matter - you staying for the show tonight?"

I smile apologetically. "You know I'd love to, but I can barely keep my eyes open. I've got a long day tomorrow, I'm gonna need all the sleep I can get."

I say goodbye to the rest of the crew, smiling sheepishly as they spout *thank you*s for the late night coffee and donuts, and make my way home.

Later that night, as I lay in bed with my eyes trained on the ceiling, I feel a sudden urge to whisper these words out loud.

Please let my life be worth more than the value I add to a company.

#dabi #dabi x oc #dabi x female reader #todoroki touya #dabi fic #dabi fanfic #dabi angst #dabi fluff

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shnuggletea · 3 years

Photo

A belated birthday surprise for @eringobroke!

Better late than never?? So, she’s actually read this already lol. I commissioned art from her for it! But the surprise is the posting as I hadn’t told her when I would post this lol. I took a short break from working on kisses to get this ready for the public. I know everyone is hurting for some fluff (and this is not fluffy) but I promise you’ll get a ton of fluff on Sunday! It has a lot of smut in it. If you want the full version, you’ll have to subscribe. It all still works without the smut (I think). So you don’t have to subscribe (but I’d love you a little more if you did!). You can read chapter one below or head over to Patreon for the free version.

Happy Birthday @eringobroke!!! And thank you so much for the brilliant art! Working with her was a dream guys something to consider when thinking of your next project to commission! Idk if this is a gift, commission, or both but I hope it’s a good surprise. Either way, I’m so glad to have you and your work in my life!

Check out the art eringobroke made titled Hunting a Dryad!

For AO3 (since this is a gift) click here. For Patreon click here. Or keep reading below.

TAGS!!

@underwater0phelia @lavendertwilight89 @mamabearcat @nartista @nopenname22 @echobows @superpixie42 @smmahamazing @redflamesofpassion @jme-chan @cstorm86 @cicleydark-light @ruddcatha @lavaffair @kirrtash @sistasecbhere @obsessandfangirl @britonell @lordofthechips @mcornilliac @faolenwolf @keichanz @phoenix-before-the-flame @artisticloveexpressitsall @lamuertadehambre @noyourenotreal @mitty-san @thenoammonster @little-deeluna @royaltrashpanda @sailorbabydoll92 @storyweaver2017 @malditamigs @adorabubblesblog @lilms-obsessed @petri808 @anniehcresta @fan-dumpp @itzatakahashi @utakuprincess @theschultinator @all-too-ale @little-inukag-obsessed @theseagullqueen @queenofthesquirps @jolinaaa00 @knowall7k @neutronstarchild @fawn-eyed-girl @eringobroke @sapphirestarxx @clearwillow @dangerouspompadour @misspepperpottss @jayangel10 @master-ray5 @sailorsilverladybug @astraearose93 @egosolivagant @fandompromptsandfun @fandomartlover @holi-holy @kagometaishostory

Chapter One

It would be the first time in years I had stepped into a forest like this. Fear had kept me away. With it being so long and things so changed, I felt safe. Not to mention it wasn’t the same woods that I originally feared.

“Come on Kikyo!”

I was spacing out, looking out at the horizon as we rose above it. Ayumi ahead of me, I turned back to her and the path with a smile. “Where did you guys find this hike?”

“Google,” Hojo stated simply.

The boots felt strange but I was getting used to them. As well as being deep in the forest with my friends. “It’s beautiful.”

Ayumi giggled, “you fought us so hard on coming here, I thought for sure you’d be bitching the whole time!”

Yes, I had fought the idea, cursing the fact that my friends were adventurous for the first time since I met them. We had done a lot of things together. They had really brought me out of my shell. Skydiving was still my favorite.

So I knew it looked weird when I turned down a simple hike. The path wasn’t on any map and according to Hojo, it was magical. I had to agree but I was biased. Regardless of my previous trepidation, I loved the wild and untamed forest the most.

Now that we were deep within, I felt all my worries and anxiety were for nothing. I felt nothing, not even a tingle. There was nothing here in these woods that was a threat to me or my friends.

We made it to the top of the mountain, panting and glistening with sweat. Eri was passing out water from her pack while I dug out some dried seaweed. Sitting on rocks, the fog cleared and we could see all the way across the valley of thick trees and brush to the town in the far distance. The air was cleaner, crisper than I had breathed in a long time. It reminded me of days long past.

Watching the sun start to drop and the sky turn to gold, we all silently agreed it was time to go. We made it back to the car by sunset. My hand was on the door when it hit me. If I hadn’t had a hold on something, I would have fallen to my knees. It had been so long, I forgot how overwhelming and powerful the sensation was.

“I… I need to go.”

Eri looked at me with a slight lift on her lips. “Then go in the bush. We’re too far out for a bathroom.”

I was shaking but none noticed thankfully. “No, I need to get out of here. Away from all of you.”

All smiles dropped, Hojo grabbing my shoulder gently. “Kikyo? What’s wrong?”

The feeling left, coming and going quickly. I took a deep breath to steady myself before fixing the damage I had made in my haste. “Nothing. Sorry, I’m just… tired.”

They each looked to one another and I wondered if they would believe it. Hojo was the first to turn back to me with a smile. “Let’s get you home then?”

Holding onto me a little longer than necessary, Hojo showed me affection the only way he dared. I worried he would confess to me soon. Then I would have to leave the group earlier than planned. I would have to leave someday, ghost them completely as I had done many others in the past. I would miss them just as I did all my other friends now long gone. But that was the nature of my secret and how I kept it all these years.

This time when I felt it, I didn’t let fear overrule me. Keeping calm in the back of the SUV we all crowded into, I quickly got out when it stopped at my place and said my goodbyes. It would most likely be the last time I saw any of them.

As I neared my door, my hands began to shake. It was coming from inside my apartment. There was no point in running, I had been found. All this time I had managed to stay hidden, I assumed no one was looking for me. That may still be true but it didn’t change the fact that I had inadvertently stepped into trouble and it had followed my scent to my home.

That was why the feeling went away in the woods. I hadn’t been left and forgotten. No, my scent was all that was needed to find my home and wait.

Even though I expected it, my heart still jumped into my throat as I opened my door to the creature that sat in my living room. I closed my door, using my body as I fell back on it with dread.

Standing on four paws, the large dog snarled at me. He stood as tall as a Great Dane but was the shape and coloring of a wolf. But it wasn’t a wolf, it was a dog.

“Hello, Inuyasha.”

The snarl stopped but I knew he was still frowning. I didn’t dare move or look away, watching as he shifted. His bones and muscles twisted while his shaggy white hair retreated, all of it save for the hair on his head which grew in length until down his back. The white fur changed to peachy skin and the muscles bubbled and popped out all over his toned body. Now standing on two thick, human legs, the only thing that remained the same was his glowing, demonic, gold eyes and fuzzy white ears on top of his head.

No matter what form he was in, Inuyasha was beautiful. Stunningly, which was why I still couldn’t move even as he stalked towards me. In a flash, he had my wrists in his hard grip and slammed them back into the door above my head.

“Hello, Mate. Long time no see?”

I shudder, his naked body close to me, and the heat of his skin wafting over mine was close to driving me mad. “What are you doing here?”

He shook his head slowly and clicked his tongue. “You messed up. Stepped too close to me and I felt it. It was nothing to figure out your path and find your scent, leading me here.”

Leaning in, he put his face so close, I could feel the tip of his nose as it brushed my skin and the air as he dragged it in, smelling me. He went from my shoulder, up my neck, to my hair. But then he went back to my ear.

“I thought you were dead,” I whimpered at his harsh whisper, his emotions felt even as he spoke so soft only I would hear. He was trembling against me now. “For years. But my mark didn’t fade. So I thought… I had screwed up somehow. Then I realized… you left me.”

“I… I’m sorry. I had to.”

“Is that your sapling out on the balcony?”

He had come in through the window, passing my tree in the small planter. I gave him a nod as my heart tripped in my chest.

“It’s grown. You’ve been taking care of it. As you should I suppose. So you dug it up and ran? Why?”

I couldn’t tell him. Not now, not ever. I didn’t know what damage it would do. “I…”

He was waiting for an answer but I had nothing. Silence fell over us but it didn’t last. Inuyasha pulled out of my neck and glared down at me, his eyes no longer gold. Now they were red.

“You left me. Cared so little about our bond and our mating that you didn’t even say goodbye…”

“I couldn’t…”

“For decades now I’ve had your mark, laughing at me for ever thinking you gave a shit about me…”

“Inuyasha, please…”

His mouth crashed to mine painfully and my body responded instantly. Roughly, he put my arms around his neck and grabbed the back of my thighs hard. I had no choice but to wrap my legs around him and he continued to press me against the door. He threw me to the floor and continued.

“As good as you remember, Kikyo?”

I felt sick, my belly turning when he called me by that name. “Don’t… don’t call me that…”

“Oh? So only your human friends can call you that? If it bothers you so much, then use your real name.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t…”

His face inches from mine, I watched the colors swirl in his eyes. Red and gold mixing around his irises. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have left me for the damn human world?!”

“I didn’t…”

He left me on the floor before him while he sat on his heels. I waited, waited for him to say something. To hold me. To be just like the man I remembered. But instead, he got to his feet and walked around me.

“Inuyasha…”

He stopped but didn’t turn, facing the window he had undoubtedly entered from. “You’re my mate so I’m bound to you as you are me. But there is no longer love between us; not since you broke my heart and left me for dead.”

“I… I’m sorry…”

“Doesn’t fucking matter now. Because now that I’ve found you, you will do what I want. I’ll come and go as I please and screw you when and how I want. You’re no longer my Mate. You’re my whore.”

I was shaking and so was he. The cold tone of his voice left me freezing on the floor. The floor he had just had his way with and left me on. As soon as I saw him, smelled him, I wanted him, wanted it, wanted him to make love to me like we once did. That wasn’t what he did and it wasn’t what he was going to do to me in the future.

Standing on the edge of his escape, he finally looked back at me before he disappeared. “See you soon, Kagome.”

With my name (my real name) on his lips, I rolled to my side and curled into myself. My clothes were nothing but rags under me while my boots knocked the floor. Not as hard or as loud as they had while Inuyasha fucked me but they were still there.

With one hand, I grabbed my wrist, the one that had his mark. Slowly tracing the faint purple moon on my wrist I allowed myself to cry. It had been a long time since I was reminded of what I had given up and it didn’t lessen the ache in the slightest.

I knew she was near, I could smell her. A week of chasing her and I refused to give up.

I caught sight of her a short distance away. Her golden flank flashed in the peaks of sunlight through the heavily shaded woods. She was grazing, her mouth low to the grass as she nibbled.

She was waiting.

I slowed my approach, careful with my paws so I didn’t alert her. She might be waiting but with her running from me at every turn since we met, I knew better than to let her on to my presence. She still felt it; felt me before I was close enough to strike.

Her muzzle lifted and her azure eyes found my golden ones. A flash of white and she was off, her tail high as she ran. And I chased. Today would be the day. I could feel it, a tingling in my spine and loins stemming from the hurried breaths she took.

She was excited.

I could hear it in her breaths and smell it in the air; her white tail turned upwards and showing me her hindquarters while scenting the wind with her sweet, succulent musk.

But then I lost sight of her, turning hard and fast down a long lane of bamboo. It ran thick around the water’s edge, a river that parted the forest and many animals drank from, and hid her from me. When I rounded the tall grass and entered the narrow path of its forest, I stopped short.

There she was, knee-deep, quickly cupping water and splashing it over her body as if it would cool down her heat. No longer the gentle and beautiful doe I’d chased for days on end, she stopped and stood at her full height as the gorgeous woman I met over a week ago.

Her long black hair curled with dripping water; water that ran down her breasts to her flat belly. Dark curls met it before sliding over her round hips and slender thighs, sad when the water had to return to the river.

She didn’t face me, half-turned and giving me her side. I took in the sight of her as much as I could, feeling her eyes on me the entire time. The sand was soft under my paws; soon under my feet as I stood up before her. Her lids closed and opened slowly, black lace brushing her rosy cheeks as she lowered her sights over me.

I was already up to my knees, grabbing her thin arms and enjoying the feel of her soft skin on the pads of my fingers. Her hands went to my chest when I pulled her to me, her chin shooting up to keep her eyes on mine. Twisting us, I had her on the sand, watching as she waited, laying on her back for me. Her eyes were everywhere, searching for any other eyes on us.

What we were doing was probably breaking the rules. Considered a sin, with me a Hanyou and her a forest nymph, a Dryad. If that’s the case, then they would have to take it up with the fates as they were the ones responsible. This union was beyond mine or her control.

Crawling over her, I grabbed her face and stilled her search and worry. If anyone were near, I would have smelled them.

Now, with her eyes wide on me and only me, I lowered my mouth to hers. Sucking in her air (tasting her fully) it was like nothing else in this world. It ran sweet down my tongue and burned in my belly like ale.

“Inuyasha…” She whispered when I pulled away.

The tears in her eyes made them sparkle like sapphires. In the short time, we spent together before this moment, I had not told her my name. And she didn’t tell me hers. But I knew it; just as she knew mine, pulling her to me and cradling her in my arms.

Mates always know their names and she was finally ready to be mine.

“Kagome…”

Panting, I pulled back from her hold, her eyes glassy and to the sky. Taking her hand, I sunk my fangs into her wrist. She flinched as if waking from a dream, looking at me as I marked her. Kagome didn’t hesitate, taking my arm and biting until she drew blood. Her blood slid down my throat as mine did hers, sucking slightly as we left our marks.

Retracting my fangs, I watched. Sure enough, the swollen and bloodied mark turned, changing into a waning moon of a light purple that stood out greatly on Kagome’s skin.

She was watching my skin, her eyes wide and curious. Such a beautiful creature, I struggled to understand how she was mine. But as her bite turned into an arrow the same golden color of her doe form, there was no confusion.

The gods had accepted our mating.

#inuyasha fandom #inuyasha fanficiton #belated present #inukag #greek and roman god references #AU #mates #happy birthday #check out the art!

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general-rusty · 4 years

Text

Hazbin AU Swap

Alastor the host to hell's 6th most popular radio station, out got of him apartment to see the ruins from his balcony. He clears his throat and started to sing.

Chasing Happiness ♪ At the end of the journey there's happiness ♪ ♪ And to find it, how often I’ve tried ♪ ♪ But my life is a race ♪ ♪ Just a wild goose chase ♪ ♪ And my hopes, they were just a lie♪ ♪ Why have I always been a failure ♪ ♪ What could the reason be ♪ ♪ I wonder if the world's to blame ♪ ♪ I wonder if it could be me ♪ ♪ I'm always looking for hope♪ ♪ searching them with my tears♪ ♪ My schemes are just like all my dreams ♪ ♪ Ending every year♪ ♪ Some fellows look and find the sunshine ♪ ♪ I always look and find the rain ♪ ♪ Some fellows make a winning sometime ♪ ♪ I never even make the game ♪ ♪ Believe me ♪ ♪ I'm always looking for hope♪ ♪ Waiting to find the happiness♪ ♪ In vain ♪

In the streets of Hell

A Demon falls from the sky and lands on the ground. "Oh, I’m alive. I’m alive!" He said

A motorcycle runs him over and stop to drop off a leatherjacket wearing Niffty. "Heh. Thanks for the fun time, hot stuff." A male raccoon demon said.

"Yeah, yeah, listen. Keep this discreet, hear me? I can’t let it get out I’m offering my services to creeps on the street. It was a quick cash grab, ya got it?" Niffty said

The Raccoon scoffs, "Whatever you say, slut!" He laughs

"Ouch, ooh, such an insult! Let me know when you come up with something creative to call me you sack of poorly packaged horse shit. Tell the mrs' I said hi. Schnookums." Niffty quipped

The motorcycle rides off

Niffty brush the dust off of herself. A hooded demon grab the cash out of Niffty's hand "Yoink!"

"Hey!" Niffty shouted

"Up yours, midget!" The hooded demon shouted. A rock falls onto the hooded demon.

Niffty gasps, "Oh my god! My money! Dang it!" She shouted

Up on Ms Cherri's ship.

"HAHAHA! THOSE WEAK SINNERS WONT DARE TOUCH MY TERRITORY OF DESTRUCTION! A WISE DECISION, THE POWER OF MY EXPLOSIVES ARE UNMATCHED! NOW ONE, ONE COULD COMPARE TO THE LIKENESS OF I!" Ms Cherri laughed. Cherri now wears a ugly red pantsuit.

"Gee, that is pretty good, boss!" One of Cherri's cherryboi yuppie minions said

"Yeah! You really showed them what for!" another Cherryboi said

"I loved it when you blow them up them with your grenade launcher." said a Cherryboi

"I wish she’d shoot me with her grenade launcher." cried a Cherryboi

Another Cherryboy pat his Cherrybrother's back.

"IN A FEW DAYS ILL DESTROY THE ENTIRE EAST SIDE OF THE PENTAGRAM! HELL WILL BE RUINED! AND EVERY ONE WILL FEAR THE NAME OF MS. CH-" Ms Cherri yelled.

"SSSLUT!" A wise guy shouted.

"DAFUQ!? WHO SAID THAT! WHAT DID YOU SAID SHITTY EXCUSE FOR A FRUIT!? SPEAK THE FUCK UP!" Cherri threatened.

A explosive egg bot was YEETED through the windshield and explodes in front of everyone.

Pentious now in patches and his top hat is a now flat cap, jumps through the hole in the windshield, "You looking for a fight, filthy whore? why won't you take your little whore house nonsense of my territory before I sssmasssh it." a support beam falls on to a cherryboi. "more..." Pentious threatened.

"OH YOU WANNA GO GRANDPA!? I HOPE YOU LIKE GUNPOWDER BECAUSE THAT'S ALL YOU WILL GET!" Cherri shouted while her Cherrybois surround Pentious.

The morning report. Two demons were at the desk. A oppressive suited man with white combed to the side hair and a gasmask for a face. And a frail white blonde woman with red eyes. "Good afternoon! I’m Tommy Trench." Tommy announced.

"And I’m Kate Killjoy. Chaos at a pentagram city today as a turf war is raging on the east side. Between notable Queen pin Ms Cherri Bomb and self-proclaimed wise guy Pentious." Kate reported.

"That’s right Kate! After the recent extermination, many areas are now up for grabs! Demons all over Hell are already duking it out to gain new territory!" Tommy reported.

"Those two seem to really be going at it, huh?" Kate repiled.

"Looks like they’re fighting tooth and nail for that hot spot!" Tommy pulls a tooth and nail out of the mug, place them on the desk, and smash them with his fist.

"And I’d sure love to get my hot spot nailed by him." Kate giggles.

Tommy chuckles, "You sure are a big pussy whore, Kate. Or should I say-" Tommy pours coffee onto Kate's crotch -Burnt Pussy."

"Not again!" Kate cried. Kate curled up in pain.

"Coming up next, we have an exclusive interview with the host of Hell’s 6th most popular radio, who’s here to discuss his brand-new passion project! All that and more, after the break!" Tommy crushes the mug. "Suck it up you little bi-"

Backstage.

Alastor now a lot more tender and tweak like, and Husk which is wearing a withered red and black leisure suit. "Okay. You remember what to say?" Husk ask.

Alastor took a deep breath. "Okay! Let’s do this!"

"Look at me, and I’ll mouth it to you." Husk said.

"Come on, Husker! I know all of the currant slang terms! I just feel like we need to- I don’t know, make things sound more glamour and darb-" Alastor gasp, "Oh! What if I-"

"-sing a song about it?" Husk said.

Alastor chuckles, "You knew I was gonna say that."

"Because you're like a book. But please don’t fucking sing. This is serious." Husk stated

"Well you know, I’m better at expressing myself and my goals through song! It's my job after all." Alastor said.

"But this isn’t like the radio, Al." Husk

"Okay I’ll just have to resort to my impeccable improve skills." Alastor said with a southern bell accent.

Now with Tommy Trench.

Alastor walks up to Tommy. "Hi! I’m Alastor." holds out his hand.

"Tommy Trench." Tommy drops the cigarette and stomps on it. "I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but that's a horseshit lie. You can put that away." Alastor pulls his hand back. "I don’t touch the mixes. I have standards."

"Yeah? How’s uh- how’s that working out for ya?" Alastor asked while a support beam falls down onto a crewman. "Can someone help me!" the crewman screamed in pain.

"Look, my time is money, so I’ll keep this short. We’re not here because we wanted you here, you’re here because Rodney couldn’t make it for his dating show."

Alastor looked past Tommy's shoulder to see Kate rolling her eyes.

"You might be some radio bigshot, but that doesn’t mean shit to me. I’m too rich and too influential to give a flying fuck about what some tux-wearing F list radio host wants to advertise." Tommy got into Alastor's face.

"But I-" Alastor stuttered.

"-So don’t get funny with me buddy, or I will fucking end you." Tommy threatened.

"And we’re live!" A crewman shouted.

Tommy ran back to his seat and Alastor walks to his seat. "Welcome back! So, Alex-" Alastor interrupts, "It’s Alastor."

"Whatever. Tell us about this new passion project you’ve been insistently pestering our news station about!" Tommy grips the handgun in his jacket.

Alastor clears his throat, "As most of you know, I have been here in Hell since 1933, and if you remember life wasn't easy back then, but as you can see life is a lot worse here than it was there. I always tried to see the good in everything around me. Hell is my home, and you are my people. We-" Tommy shoots a bug with that handgun. Blood splashes onto Alastor's face. "We just went through another extermination. We lost so many souls, and it breaks my heart to see my people being slaughtered every year. No one is even given a chance! I can’t stand idly by while the place I live is subjected to such violence! So, I’ve been thinking. Isn’t there a more humane way to hinder overpopulation here in Hell? Perhaps we can create an alternative way to change souls through… redemption? Well I think yes. So that’s what this project aims to achieve! Ladies and gentlemen, I’m opening the first of its kind! A hotel that rehabilitates sinners!" Alastor announce.

...

"Y’know? ‘Cause hotels are for people passing through… temporarily."

In a dive bar in the hick part of hell. A bear demon laughes, "Is this guy for real? He thinks, you hear what this city boy thinks? he-' short laugh "-Oh, he’s nuts."

The camera man spoke up. "Stupid nig-"

Husk uppercuts the camera man.

"Look, every single one of you has something good deep down inside. I know you do. Maybe I’m not getting through to you." Alastor said

Husk sighs "Oh no."

Alastor snaps his fingers to bring his jazz band in.

♪ We have a dream ♪ ♪ We wish to tell ♪ ♪ And it’s just ball ♪ ♪ ‘Cause you’re one of a kind ♪ ♪ A charming demon belle! ♪ ♪ Now let’s give these burning fools a place to dwell ♪ ♪ (Take it, boys!) ♪ ♪ (Boo!) ♪ ♪ Inside of every demon is a cause ♪ ♪ We’ll dress ‘em up and give them a smile! ♪ ♪ (With a smile!) ♪ ♪ And we’ll chlorinate this cesspool ♪ ♪ With some old redemption flair ♪ ♪ And show these guys some proper class and style! ♪ ♪ (What’s in style?) ♪ ♪ (Oh!) ♪ ♪ Here below the ground ♪ ♪ I’m sure your plan is sound! ♪ ♪ They’ll spend a little time ♪ ♪ Down at this Happy Ho-- ♪

Random demon: "Shut the fuck up! That is shit!"

Everyone laughs uncontrollably.

"What in the nine circles makes you think a single denizen of Hell would give two shits about becoming a better person? You have no proof that this little experiment even works! You want people to be good just… because?" Tommy and Kate laughs.

"Well, we have a patron already who believes in our cause, and she’s shown incredible progress!" Alastor shouted

"Oh? And who might that be?" Tommy asked.

"Oh, just someone named… Niffty." Alastor replied.

"The porn star?" Kate asked.

Tommy slowly turns around pointing that handgun at Kate. "You fucking would, Kate." Tommy turns back around. "In any case, that’s not even an accomplishment. I’m sure you can get that hooker to do anything with enough booger sugar and lube."

"Oh, I beg to differ. She’s been behaved, clean, and out of trouble for 2 weeks now." Alastor replied.

"Breaking news!" Shouted a crewman

Tommy pushed Alastor away. "We are receiving word that a new player has entered the ongoing turf war! Let’s go to the live feed!"

Shows Niffty kicking Cherryboi ass.

"Di Mi!." Alastor whispered.

"Dee Me indeed! It looks like the one who just joined the battle is none other than-" gasp "-porn actress Niffty! What a juicy coincidence! You must feel really stupid right now." Tommy said

Tommy and Kate laugh. "Ratings!"

Alastor gasped, "Don’t look at this!" He tried to hid the window on the greenscreen.

"Well, it sure looks like your little project is dead on arrival. Tell us, how does it feel to be such a total failure?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah? Well- how does it feel that I got your pen, huh? Dick?!" Alastor shouted.

Tommy went silent.

Alastor nervously laughs, "Sorry." Put the pen back.

Kate runs away while Tommy got the flamethrower

Back in the streets

"Hey thanks for the backup, Niffts!" Pentious shouted.

"You kiddin'? This is the best action I've seen in ages!" Niffty replied.

Pentious throws a egg bomb. "Where have you been anyways? I thought you died or something."

"Oh I wish! I've been staying at this dirty hotel on the other side of town. Some guys let me stay rent free if I play nice His words, not mine. These assholes are no fun! I’ve been clean for two weeks!" Niffty answered.

"Holy crap." Pentious replied.

"Well, sorta clean. As clean as you can get with a shitload of Bolivian marching powder." Niffty replied.

Cherri whips and ties Niffty up in a vine.

"Oh, harder mommy!" Niffty moaned.

Cherri gasp, "Daughter?!"

Niffty raise the brow in a "Da fuck?" way.

"You douches have no style! In war, the side remembered is the side with the most style." Cherri pop her collar up.

"Or the side that ain’t 6 feet under." Pentious replied.

"Speaking of style, what's up with the colors, it's red this and red that. Is it that time of the month?" Pentious quipped.

"Oh, well, that’s none of your goddamn business, now is it?" Cherri shouted.

"Oh yeah we're not suppose to talk about that." Niffty quipped.

"I’m going to blow you to bits!" Cherri threatened.

"Hm! Kinky!" Niffty quipped.

"Oh, not like that! creep!" Cherri replied.

Cherriyboi shoots at Niffty with a vine net gun.

"Not so cocky now, are we?" Cherri threatened.

"Y’know, you really gotta watch what comes out of your mouth. I’ve been making these sex jokes the whole-" Cherri pulls out a smg "-TIME! And it’s obvious ya ain’t catchin’ on-" Niffty kicks Cherri, takes her gun and shoots at the Cherryboi. "-I mean, it’s just SAD!

"So think you’re gonna get in a lot of trouble for this?" Pentious asked.

"Eh, what’s one little brawl gonna cause?" Niffty asked.

Back in the newsroom.

Alastor and Tommy are going at it fisticuffs, while the flamethrower is blowing fire to the right of the desk.

Kate runs into view of the camera while on fire. "Why won’t anyone help me?!" She screams.

Back in the streets. "Glad ya haven’t changed. You know you’re my favorite gal to party with!" Pentious shouted.

"You know it, you slimy snake. You ready to finish this?" Niffty asked.

"Hell yeah, baby." Pentious answered.

Niffty, Pentious, Ms Cherri, CherryBois, Alastor, Tommy, and Kate yelling in a 4 screen split.

In the Limo driving to the hotel Niffty was playing with the window

Husk carving a wooden steak and giving Niffty the death stare.

Niffty looks up to Husk, "What?"

"What? What?! What were you fucking doing?!" Husk shouted.

Niffty sighs, "Look I owed my snake buddy a solid! Isn’t that a “redeeming quality"? Helping pals with stuff?" Niffty shouted.

"Not with turf wars that result in genocide!" Husk shouted.

"Eh, you win some, you lose a few hundred, plus didn't you caused a Genocide." Niffty snickers.

Husk throws the wooden steak at Niffty which pierced throw the window.

"Aw come on, I had to! My credibility was on the line-" Niffty sighs "-I mean, what kind of reputation would I have if people found out I was trying to go clean? It just throws out my entire persona."

"Your credibility? What about the hotel? Your little stunt made us look like fucking clowns!" Husk shouted.

"No no no, hon. Clowns are funny! I made you look… uh, sad! And pathetic! Like an orphan, with no arms, or legs… Uh… oh, with progeria! Great! Now I’m bummed thinking about it! This thing have any liquor?" Niffty asked.

"Can you please just try to take this seriously?" Husk asked.

"Fine, I’ll try, just don’t bitch to your mother while you're fucking her." Niffty quipped.

"What was that you trying to be?" Husk got up and pulled out his knife.

"Whatever pisses you off the most. Is there seriously no liquor in here?!" Niffty shouted.

"I’m gonna kill her." Husk sat back down.

"Too late, hon. Wait, would that make me double dead? And where exactly do I go, to double Hell? Sorry, you’re stuck with me, bitch. Get used to it." Niffty laughs.

"Fucking bitch!" Husk mumbled.

"Listen, who cares if some jagoffs got hurt? Most of them are ugly freaks. Look around! Got a bunch of fuckin’ harlequin babies down here." Niffty said.

"You’re one to talk." Husk quipped.

"Hey! This body is flawless! Everyone wants some of me, and I’ve got the creepy fan letters to prove it!" Niffty pulls out a letter with stains.

"That was really not swell y’know, Niffty" Alastor said.

"Not Sweel?! After that trainwreck, there is no way anyone is gonna wanna stay at the hotel. All thanks to you and your selfish bullshit!" Husk shouted.

"Does that mean I don’t have a free room anymore?" Niffty asked.

Husk pulls the knife out again.

"Ah, well, shucks." Niffty snaps.

"Hey, come on, we don’t know if things are over yet. Try to relax, Husker. It’ll be okay!" Alastor reassured.

At the Happy Hotel

The three open the door. Husk sat down on to the couch to look at his hands, his mind goes back to the war.

Niffty went to the fridge to get a beer. "It’s probably a good idea to get some actual food in this place. Y’know, to feed all the wayward souls ya got in here." Niffty laughed, but then it became nervous laughter, and then she just stops.

Alastor went out to talk to his boss. "Hey Boss. Um, I know I keep calling, and you must want that kale paid back. But um, the interview isn't sitting pretty and... I don’t know if I’m going to make a difference. I don’t know what I’m doing. I could really use some advice, Boss. I think you're right about me. A-anyway, I’ll stop talking before this gets long." Alastor went back in.

A knock to the tune of Come On Eileen was on the door.

Alastor opens the door to see Charlie in her demon form.

"Hell-"

Alastor slams the door, and then open it again to see if he just saw that.

-o."

Alastor slams the door again. "Hey Husker?

"What?!" Husk asked.

"The Musical Demon is at the door!" Alastor nervously answered.

"Holy shit what?!" Husk drops the knife.

"Uh, who?" Niffty asked

"What should I do?" Alastor asked.

"Well, don’t let that bitch in!" Husk shouted

Alastor slowly opens the door.

"May I speak now?" Charlie asked.

"You may-" Alastor said.

"Charlie, pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart, quite a pleasure. Excuse my visit, but I saw your riot on news and I just couldn’t resist. What a performance! Why, I haven’t been that entertained since the Great White show of 2003. Ah so many bodies." Charlie introduced

"Stop right there!" Husk pointed a M16 at Charlie. "I know your game. And I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone here, you spunky, quirky, musical harlot!" Husk threatened.

Charlie laughs slightly, "Hon, if I wanted to hurt anyone here... I would have done so already...." spooky demonic stuff pops up and then goes away. "No, I’m here because I want to help!"

"Say what now?" Alastor asked.

"Help!" Charlie exclaimed.

"Um, you want to help?" Alastor asked.

"With this ridiculous thing you’re trying to do! This hotel! I want to help you run it." Charlie exclaimed.

"Uh… why?" Alastor asked.

Charlie laughs, "Why does anyone do anything? Sheer, absolute boredom! I’ve lacked inspiration for decades! My work became mundane, lacking focus, aimless! I’ve come to crave a new form of entertainment!"

"Does getting into a fist fight with a upstage reporter count as entertainment?" Alastor asked.

Charlie laughs, "Absolutely, it's reality. After all, the world is a stage! And the stage is a world of entertainment!"

"So, does this mean that you think it’s possible to rehabilitate a demon?" Alastor asked.

Charlie laughs, "Ha no. That’s wacky nonsense! Redemption, oh the non-existent humanity! Nononono, I don’t think there’s anything left that could save such loathsome sinners! The chance given was the life they lived before; the punishment is this! There is no undoing what is done!"

"So then, why do you want to help me if you don’t believe in my cause?" Alastor asked.

"Consider it an investment in ongoing entertainment for myself! I want to watch the scum of the world struggle to climb up the hill of betterment! Only to repeatedly trip and tumble down to the fiery pit of failure." Charlie stated.

"Right?" Alastor nervously asked.

"Yes indeedy! I see big things coming your way, and who better to help than I…" Charlie exclaimed.

With Husk and Niffty.

"Ah, so uh, what’s the deal with Smiles over there?" Niffty asked.

"Wait, you’ve never heard of her before? You’ve been here longer than me!" Husk shouted.

"Only for a decade." Niffty replied.

"The Musical Demon, one of the most powerful fuckers Hell has ever seen?" Husk stated.

"Eh, not big on politics." Niffty answered.

"Some fuckin' time ago, Charlie was let out of Lucifer's castle she rampaged the fuck out of everything and then she started podcasting her carnage through fucking songs people started calling her, the music demon.. That kind of raw power had never been harnessed by a mortal soul before. Strange song and dense numbers would play on the radio paired with terrifying screams and cries for help. She'd force victims to join in and those who wouldn't or couldn't got the worst of it. Sinners started calling her the Musical Demon. (How fucking original!) Many have speculated what unimaginable force enabled her to rival our world’s most ancient and destructive evils. But one thing’s for sure: She’s an unpredictable source of danger, a wicked spirit of mystery, and a violent monster of chaos the likes of which we can’t risk getting involved with unless we want to end up erased." Husk annoyingly exclaims.

"Bash ears much?" Niffty silently laughs, "She looks like a cinnamon roll princess!"

"Well, I don’t trust her!" Husk spat.

"To be fair, do you trust anyone?" Niffty asked. "Anyone."

Husk went to Alastor.

"Al, man, listen to me. You can’t believe this girl! She isn’t just a happy face! She’s a dealmaker, pure evil! She's Lucifer's daughter! She can’t be redeemed! And is most likely looking for a way to destroy everything we’re trying to do. And we don't want that." Husk stated.

"I know she’s bad, and I know she probably doesn’t wanna change, but the whole point of this is to give people a chance! To have faith things will be better! How can I turn someone away? I can’t. It goes against everything I’m trying to do. Everything I believe in. I would be like them back then. Just trust me. I can take care of myself." Alastor stated.

"Alastor, whatever you do, do not make a deal with him!" Shouted.

"Don’t worry, I picked up one thing from them. “Ya don’t take shit from rich folk!” Okay, so… Charlotte. You’re sketchy, and you clearly see what I’m trying to do here is a joke. But I don’t. I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be better. So, I’m taking your offer to help. On the condition that there be no tricks or voodoo strings attached." Alastor nervously said.

"So it’s a deal then?" Charlie asked.

Alastor takes a gulp before he shakes her burning hot hands. Her hand burns Alastor's hand like a hot stove. Alastor cries in pain.

Charlie let go of Alastor hand and went to Husk.

Alastor went to the fridge to get something to cool his hand.

"Smile, my boy! You know you’re never fully dressed without one!" Charlie stated. "So where is your hotel staff?" She asked.

"Uh, well…" Alastor points to Husk and Niffty with his good hand.

Husk growls.

"Oh ho ho ho, you’re going to need more than that." Charlie stated.

"And what can you do you quirky cutie?" Charlie asked Niffty.

"I can finger you to heaven." Niffty replied.

"Maybe not..." Charlie said.

"Your loss." Niffty stated.

"Well this just won’t do! I suppose I can cash in a few favors to liven things up!" Charlie snaps, which cleans the fireplace and light up a fire in it. Charlie then pulled out a tall and dark demon from the fireplace. Charlie then shake it a little to get rid of the soot which reveals our white and pink Spider Boi Angel Dust.

"This tall friend is Angel!" Charlie said.

"Hello, my name is angel, it been along time since I saw any guy... IS ANYONE HERE GAY!? sorry, that was rude... OH MY! this place is disgusting, it really need the fabulous touch, which is weird cause I'm sure at least one of you is gay..." Angel went all around the room with his 6 arms cleaning and remodeling everything.

Charlie snaps again.

A gray female demon was at a bar talking to a male demon, "Okay that will be $50 for a hand- wohhhhhh" All kinds of demonic shit goes around Vaggie "¿Que demonios?" Vaggie notices Charlie, "YOU!"

"Veggie sweat heart glad you could make it!" Charlie exclaims and then hugs

"Don't you veggie me! I was working!" Vaggie pushed Charlie away.

"Good to see you to!" Charlie laughed

"What do you want?" Vaggie asked.

"Well sweaty I'm doing some charity work and I took it upon my self to volunteer your Service!" Charlie answered.

"Are you joking!?" Vaggie asked.

"No, I don't think so! I thought you could be the new face of this fine establishment!" Charlie points to a pole. "With your fine smile and "past experience" this job was made for you!" Charlie stated.

"IM AINT DOING NO CHAIRTY WORK DO I LOOK LIKE SOME KIND OF A FUCKING JOKE!?" Vaggie shouted.

"Maybe, but don't worry,I can make it more rewarding, if you wish." Charlie projects all of the cute good times they had back then.

"What!? you can think you can buy me with a wink and some good memories!? Well you can!" Vaggie got up to the stage

"Hey hey, heyheyhey! NO! No pole dancing we're meant to be a place that discourages sin! Not some kind of… casino, brothel, man-cave-" Husk ranted.

Niffty jumps on Husk. "Shut up! Shut! Up! We are keeping this." Niffty pointed to Vaggie. "Hey." Niffty flirted to Vaggie

"¡Vete a la mierda!" Vaggie said.

"Sounds sexy." Niffty flirted.

Alastor went up the the stage, "Hello there my scantily dressed friend! Welcome to this fine or at least with your help soon to be fine hotel!" Alastor introduced himself.

"I lost the ability to love years ago, so unless you got cash you're not worth my time." Vaggie stated.

"So, what do you think?" Charlie asked.

"This is the Bees Knees!" Alastor bellowed.

"It’s… fine." Husk stated.

Charlie went in for a hug with Alastor and Husk, "This is going to be very fun!" Charlie clears her throat and push Husk away. ♪ You have a dream ♪ ♪ You wish to tell ♪ ♪ And it’s just laughable ♪ ♪ But hey sir, what the hell! ♪ ♪ ‘Cause you’re one of a kind ♪ ♪ A charming pal! ♪ ♪ Now let’s give these burning fools a place to dwell ♪ ♪ Inside of every demon is a waste ♪ ♪ But we’ll dress ‘em up for now with just a smile! ♪ ♪ And we’ll chlorinate this cesspool ♪ ♪ With some old redemption flair ♪ ♪ And show these simpletons some proper class and style! ♪ ♪ Here below the ground ♪ ♪ I’m sure your plan is sound! ♪ ♪ They’ll spend a little time ♪ ♪ Down at this Hazbin Ho-- ♪

A explosion outside blast the door off and hit Angel.

Everyone walked out to see what was happening

"Ha! Well well well, look who it is harboring the musical freak! We meet yet again, Charlie!" Cherri shouted.

"Do I know you?" Charlie asked.

"Oh, yes you do! And this time, I have the element of- surprise!" Cherri maniacal laughs "I’m so evil!"

Charlie snaps to bring up her goat goons to destroy the ship.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa whoa!" Cherri started to scream as the goats started to destroy her ship and murder her Cherrybois.

Two of the goats grab Cherri and threw her at the wall. "Oh, that hurt!" Cherri screams.

The Goats took control of the ship and pilot it into the cracks where they came from.

The ship explodes when it got into the crack.

"Well I’m starved! Who wants some cake? My father once showed me a wonderful recipe for cake! In fact, they named it after him! You could say the kick was right out of Hell! Yes sir, this is the start of some real changes down here!" Charlie laughes

"The show starts! Now... Stay tuned." Charlie snaps changing the sign from, "Happy." to "Hazbin."

#hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin niffty #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin alastor #hazbin husk #hazbin cherri bomb #hazbin characters #hazbin katie killjoy #hazbin tom trench

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annoying-lucy · 4 years

Text

Evan Evagora did an AMA involving the Star Trek Shitposting Facebook Group - the questions and answers below were copy/pasted direct from the collated master post. Evan is a member of the group, who participates under an unknown pseudonym.

———————————————

AMA Master Post!

Thanks so much to Evan Evagora for taking time out of his day for our AMA earlier. To make the questions and answers easier for ya'll to find, here they all are together below.

Q: How does my love of cats compare to Elnor?

A: Im actually more of a dog person, there was a scene that had Elnor and spot 2 unite briefly but unfortunately it didn’t leave the editing room

Q: How familiar was I with Star Trek before and did I have to do research?

A: I grew up with TNG, I’d have to say either worf, Guinan or Q are my favourite characters. And I was given episodes to watch that were to help with information before filming Picard

Q: How was I prepped to deal with the crazy fans?

A: I got told to join Star Trek shitposting 😉. Not but in all seriousness, it was Jonathan Frakes who gave me advice on entering the world of fandom from the other side and he said it’s been nothing short of a pleasure

Q: So if Hugh had survived would they have made out?

A: what happens on the cube stays on the cube

Q: My favourite moment of s1

A: getting to slice that romulans head off

Q: How did I hear about Star Trek shitposting?

A: most of the crew is either a part of the group or knows about, one of the amazing hair and make up ladies got me into I think my first or second day

Q: If I had to be Tuvixed with someone excluding elnor?

A: mirror verse Elnor, nah worf to be honest

Q: What is something I’d like to do in season 2

A: Id like to see Elnor and spot 2 together

Q: How am I passing my time woth quarantine?

A: ama for the gronp! Nah I’ve just been reading, writing and also the contact I’m having with the fans too has really helped a lot

Q: If I had to quarantine with any of my costars who would it be and why

A: I’d go with hardy treadaway he’s got the nicest place

Q: What am I hoping to see in Elnor’s future

A: Inner peace, contentment and possibly shorter hair?

Q: Am I intimidated by working on a show with such a big fan base?

A: no I grew up with Star Trek, you’re really in a bubble of filming when you’re making the show, it all didn’t really hit home until the first trailer at San Diego

Q: Would I consider playing Elnor as non binary

A: I’ve seen a lot of debate and discussion about not only my character but others in the series, if there is something that connects you with a character on this show and it resonates with you, even if it’s shown, not shown or hinted at I’m all for it. I am not for the constant belittlement, bullying and criticism of not only the characters on the show but also other fans. It really does break my heart reading comments where people aren’t welcoming of one another, because that is the whole reason why Trek has bought so many together and by spewing these disgusting cruel words out your not only showing the world you don’t understand the meaning behind the show, you also are destroying the thing that makes us all love it

Q: Is there Australia on romulas

A: yeah they have a down under I’m sure of it. No the accent can easily be explained with, Elnor left romulas at a young age, moved to a planet with different species and languages spoken so that influenced his accent

Q: Have I seen Elnor fan fiction and art?

A: yeah some of it has been really amazing! And some others have been...creative

Q: How excited am I to make home movies with my action figures?

A: my plan is to buy everyone’s, make them record audio and then film shit using the dolls and their voices

Q: Are you playing animal crossing?

A: I’ve preordered it because they’ve sold out here in aus, but in playing civ 6 to pass time and Mario party

Q: Did I get to try Romulan ale?

A: no I wish, I’m kind of hoping for a scene next year where Elnor gets drunk for the first time

Q: What character did I wish would appear in our show?

A: one word, one letter Q

Q: What’s my background have I been acting long?

A: Picard was my third acting gig, and the first project to release, so I have got some experience acting and I have previous work but it has either just aired or is going to next year

Q: Please my friend choose a charity you would like us to donate to

A: food bank

Q: Favourite ninja turtle

A: it’s always been Raph and always will be

Q: Do I know much about Elnors background

A: I know things that haven’t been mentioned yet, but also given his character is new and season 1 just finished, hopefully some of those things are explored

Q: How would o feel about the fan theory that Spock is my father

A: I mean, I’m not really sure, I can always shoot Ethan a message and ask him what he thinks too

Q: Which classic episode trope would I like to see?

A: mirror universe

Q: Can we look forward to more ninja representation?

A: is Elnor not enough? ☹️

Q: Were there any particular characters I drew inspiration from, any elves?

A: there’s a particular group of people I think Elnor might have been inspired from. Can I just say how cool it would be if Elnor is just cosplaying as an elf because Picard left him a copy of Lotr when he was young

Q: Would I be open to exploring Elnors sexuality in s2 and what would it be?

A: I am totally open for that, and as for Elnors sexuality, I’m not sure he’s only 17 he’s just left his planet and gone off on an adventure where he openly knew the success may lead in his death or others he hasn’t had time to figure himself out so seeing his sexuality explored would be amazing

Q: What stories did you hear about working on precious trek series from the OG actors?

A; So we found out Michael Dorn used to muddle his lines up because he was normally the last close up of the day. They used to put bets on to see how many takes he’d have to do. All I must add in very fun spirits nothing ever malicious or mean

Q: My long term career goals

A: id like to keep pursuing more roles I’m acting, I’m a big writer and have some projects I’m looking at getting created but right now I’d say I’m just here to learn and grow

Q: What do I write?

A: right now I’m working on three screenplays and two pilots most of the stuff I’ve written is just sitting on my hard drive just waiting to be used

Q: Ever fried an egg, buttered and vegemite'd some toast and eaten it like a sandwich?

A: what I just read, scared the crap out of me, I love vegemite but the most I’ll do is add cheese to it

Q: What is one of my favourite stories about s1

A: Jeri Ryan and I had a scene together in the borg cube (what a queen she made!) it was shooting at night and I think it was the final shot of the day, we couldn’t keep a straight face and just laughed through about fifteen takes

Q: Are you a big fan of fandom besides Trek?

A: Star Wars, lotr, the magician series Raymond e feist, a song of fire and ice series, avatar last air bender and legend of Korra (would love to play zuko) and of course Batman (fav Jason Todd as the hood)

Q: Could I see myself playing Elnor for six or seven years?

A: as long as there’s a good story that myself and fans will enjoy, but if it didn’t meet my expectations no. And also hopefully the writers and creators would want to

Q: My top TNG eps are in no particular order

I borg, all good things, tapestry, the measure of a man and all good things

I’ll also add I borg especially because it’s just cool seeing where Hugh began and how he ended up

Q: How did I land the role of Elnor?

A: I was on a break from filming Fantasy Island (a movie based off the old tv show) and I was home for pilot season which is when they cast for shows, I had two weeks of daily auditions before I was due to fly back and start filming again, two days before I was meant to leave I got an audition for Picard, the script had a code name and Elnors name was Kbar on it, but I was told it was Star Trek. I went into the room and thought I didn’t do a very good job, then I flew to film and two days later I was told I’ve made a list of people being considered, after a few more auditions and a couple of phone calls from producers and everything I found myself on a plane to LA five weeks later

Q: Have I made friends among the cast?

A: no, we tried really hard to become friends, but unfortunately we ended up becoming a family instead. Everything we say in interviews about us getting along is all true and not fake. I’m the newest to acting out of everyone so I was kind of of shocked to find out that how close we all are isn’t necessarily how it will be when I shoot other projects, so I think we just got lucky or they casted really well

Q: Have the Picard people seen your memes?

A: yes I’ve shown them the memes from the page, I’ve shown everyone including Patrick we find most of them funny (some shocking)

Not shocking in a bad way

Unexpected I should say

Q: How do I feel about the ears?

A: I wore them so much they came up in my dreams, but they were the easiest thing to apply onto me

Q: Which non tng character would I like to see return?

A: I wouldn’t mind seeing the doctor

Q: The most relatable Star Trek character?

A: Look for me growing up it was Wesley, i just picked anyone who was the young one. And I grew up with my sisters and was always being told I’m either wrong, an idiot or just to shut up

Q: Did I have previous martial arts experience before the show?

A: I have a background in boxing which helps when it comes to movement, reflexes and just all around fitness for stunts. I didn’t have any sword fighting experience before we began training for the show however

Q: How do you think being raised by an order of women affected Elnor?

A: I think it gave him a healthy understanding of not only the strength and resilience of women but I think he understands not only gender equality but just equality in general and I think that’s directly to do with growing up in a sect of all female warrior nuns

Q: What is a type of meme you would like to see more of in the group?

A: I love all the memes in the group, I hardly like any of them now incase someone figures out who I am though ahahah

Q: Favorite recent memes?

A: See my comment below

#evan evagora #star trek #star trek: picard #picard #elnor #ama #stsp

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michaels-blackhat · 4 years

Text

the sea beneath, the journey home

day 3/31 of my massive holiday project

for @isakvaltersnake, you didn’t get a RNM fic. This was supposed to be post-canon Gendrya... and it’s there... it’s just not the fluff I set out to write <3

Eventually the coast blurs until it is one with the sky and Arya turns from her family, her home, and focuses on the ship around her. The men are all experienced sailors, all with more experience than her for all that she is technically better traveled, and they know their business. She does not have to worry about directing, about actually captaining her ship.

She breathes in the salt air, a deep breath that feels more like purification than anything else. Out here she cannot smell the fire, the smoke, the burning and rotting flesh of King’s Landing and of the North. Here, surrounded by nothing but the great salt water sea, she can forget about the death and destruction. Here she can forget No One. She can forget the legacy of the Starks. She can forget about it all without forgetting herself. Here, at sea, she can learn how to be.

At night the gentle rock of the ship lures her to sleep. She sleeps in a hammock, same as the rest of her men. It swings her as the sea rocks a lullaby. On the wind she hears the great songs, the tales of love and battle the men sing as the dark calls them all to sleep. At night she lays and images a life where the stories were not real, where the frost only nipped and didn’t bring worse than death. She imagines a life like the one her father once promised her- a good husband, a household to run. She imagines a life where she could be content.

The ship gives a lurch and she remembers that life was never one she wanted.

She turns over and turns off her mind. Thinking has never helped her anyway.

Two weeks at sea and they do not expect to see anything beyond that. Arya stands at her desk with a map open in front of her. Her navigator stands at her side as they debate the best course. Neither know for sure, any travel to the west has been avoided and Arya did not consult with the remaining Ironborn before she left.

Arya did not consult with anyone beyond the shipwrights and the sailors on the docks. She had not consulted her family, just told them she was leaving.

She never told Gendry she was leaving at all.

“My lady,” her navigator addresses her, “we should reach land within two weeks, if the weather holds.”

She nods her agreement before she turns her attention to her quartermaster.

“And our supplies?”

“They will hold for months, as long as we find fresh water on land, my lady.”

She nods again.

“Then we stay the course,” she says as she rolls up the map.

There is plenty on a ship to keep her mind occupied, but the night wrecks the careful control she has over herself. At night her mind wanders to the far corners of Westeros, to her brothers on opposite ends of the continent, to her sister ruling in the North, to the bastard blacksmith lord in the Stormlands.

Every night the men sing on the deck. They gather to tell stories and to sing songs. She leaves them to it, afraid to hear her own song, afraid they will ask about the Long Night and the Night King.

Sometimes they sing the new songs, but often they keep to the older ones, the ones they heard as they grew, the songs that gives comfort.

Arya lays in her hammock as their voices sing about a lady of the forest and the little lord who loved her.

She does not think of a similar story, a lady of the forest who was actually a Lady and the boy who loved her when she was covered in filth, when she was covered in silk.

“Land!”

The cheers of her crew quickly drowns out the cry from the crows-nest. Four weeks at sea is not that long, not for seasoned sailors or even for a woman who traveled the discovered world, but four weeks where it is uncertain that there is even land is a strain.

It is still far in the distance, but the breaks in the horizon can be seen even so far out to sea.

Arya smiles at the exuberance of her crew until she sees a speck in the distance, which grows closer the longer she looks. Her smile starts to fall as the distinct shape of a raven forms.

Her first mate gives her a look, but she gives him a reassuring smile. Only one type of creature could find them, no raven could be trained to fly to the unknown. This raven had her brother riding its back.

She lifts her hand and the raven flies to her. It lands with ease and stays still as she releases its paper burden. It flies away the moment the note is free.

At night she lights a single candle and sits on the deck of her ship. The light does not cast shadows, it is too small to do that, too weak. She imagines the flickers of fire against the carved direwolves, against the folds of the banners and the sails.

She imagines the heat of a forge as it warms her to her core.

She reads the words on the paper her brother sent, over and over as if it would give her more answers.

The lesser Lords of the Stormlands have asked me to intervene on their behalf, as their liege Lord refuses to marry. He said he will not find a wife to make into his lady, that he already has one.

I thought you might like to know.

The ship does not rock her to sleep that night. The faint glow of her flame does nothing to burn away memory.

The land is rocky in a way that reminds Arya too much of the jagged coast along King’s Landing. She takes one look at the shore and returns below deck.

She does not join the men when they weighed anchor and rowed to shore.

The hammock stays still beneath her as the sunlight creeps in from an open hatch. They are anchored down as close to shore as they dare. She keeps below dock, away from the sight of the coastline, away from the ghosts of memory.

A dark figure flies through the open hatch and lands on the ropes that tie your hammock to the wooden poles. The raven waits patiently as Arya unties the note, once again flying away the moment it is free of its burden.

Some memories you cannot hide from.

Arya takes the note note to the deck and throws it into the ocean.

She looks out into the horizon, ocean and air mixing until it’s nothing but uniform blue.

Her men find water and berries that the local wildlife can eat, berries that look close enough to ones she ate in Bravos that she is willing to risk it for something fresh.

She and her navigator decide to continue west, to follow the coastline and see where that may lead them.

They stay for a few days, long enough to replenish their water and to ensure the berries have no unsavory effects. They hunt for fresh meat and open another barrel of ale in celebration. It is a warm affair, the men jovial. Even Arya stays in good spirits, laughing with her men and joining in on their songs.

The evening winds down and the songs turn somber. They sing of lost loves and of family gone. They sing of war, but not the glory just the cold aftermath. Arya looks out from her place on the quarterdeck, the moon and the stars glow on the sea, the dark of the island shimmers as the moonlight hits the jagged rocks. Arya sees the ghosts dance on the shore.

Arya never had the same dreams as her sister. She did not want to be a lady. She did not want to be a wife. She wanted to rule a castle, yes, but she did not want to do it in the name of someone else. She did not dream of dresses, of a maiden cloak around her shoulders.

She did dream of love, of family, of villagers to help and people to care for.

You would be my lady, he had said years before, before she even knew what she had asked him.

He had a castle now, villagers to help and a whole section of the country to care for.

None of it will be worth anything if you’re not with me. He said that too, before he asked her to be his lady, different than that first time he said it.

“His lady wife,” she snorted as she crawled up the rigging, small enough and strong enough to do it quickly, to do it right.

The coastline changes as they sail past, from rocky to rolling hills and gently sloping beaches, and Arya stares blindly at it, caught up in memories and letter.

With an arm firmly around the ropes she pulls out the most recent letter from her meddling brother-king.

We dance with our ghosts in different ways, sometimes you need to confront your fears.

“Cryptic as always Bran,” she says into the wind, aware that he hears her a world away.

The hammock sways with the storm, a quick summer squall that they can see the end of already, blue skies in the distance waiting to carry them onto the next part of their journey. She listens to the sound of the men on deck, those who replaced the first shift. She is still soaked to her bones, exhausted more from a dreary mood than from trying to the ship storm-ready so quickly.

Ghosts still dance behind her eyes, the frozen dead, the burning dead, green eyes and blues eyes and brown eyes. She has shut those eyes forever. No one never minded. Arya does.

She looks up at the wooden planks, water-sealed and sturdy. This is her penance, in a way. She spent years getting back to her family and when she did she couldn’t stay. She couldn’t look them in the eyes and pretend she was ok, pretend that she did not see the dead everywhere. She could not look at any of them and say that she deserved peace.

The next raven had no note, just a small leaf made of gold tied from a string around its neck. She places it around her neck and ignores the tears in her eyes.

There is no coast to follow anymore, just more open sea. They continue west, after a stop for fresh water and more fresh meat to supplement their slowly dwindling dried rations before the land disappeared to their backs.

“What do you hope to find?”

Her first mate stands next to her, map open in front of them as their navigator adds more details. They will need a new sheet soon.

“Honestly?” Arya asks, eyes fixed on Westeros. “At first I would have said adventure.” She looks up at him, unable to look at the symbols on the map that meant home. “Now? I think I’m just looking for peace.”

“You won’t find that on the sea, my lady,” her first mate responds with a sad smile. “That’s not why any of us are here. I suspect that’s not the reason for you either, not really.”

She snorts out her answer. “I think maybe we spend a little too much time together, if you can say something like that.”

“We’re on a ship my lady,” he laughs, “we can do nothing but spend time together.” His smile goes sad again, after the brief laughter. “We all saw things, my lady, in King’s Landing. Things that will haunt us for the rest of our lives. For most of us, we spent our whole life at sea. This is our home, this is familiar. That’s not the case for you. You’re running my lady, none of us judge you for that.”

Arya closes her eyes against the truth.

“Has my brother been sending you ravens as well?”

“No my lady, as you said, we just spend that much time together.”

The golden leaf is warm against her skin when she goes to sleep. She never takes it off, just lets it lay against her chest day in, day out. She does not let herself think, or so she tries.

The ship sways beneath her, but it does nothing to lure her to sleep.

“Some things you cannot out run,” she says into the darkness, feeling foolish as the words leave her mouth. “I am running.”

The darkness says nothing in reply.

They reach land two days later. They see ships first, ships of Yi Ti make fishing or loaded down with cargo. Her quartermaster smiles, happy to restore their depleted supplies. Her navigator smiles as well, smug that his prediction was true.

“What is west of Westeros?” He asks into the crowd.

“It’s just the east,” one of the crew members calls back.

Arya lets her eyes linger on the ships, on the port in the distance.

“What were you hoping to find?”

She startles, surprised that her first mate could sneak up on her. Surprised that she has reached a point where she can let her guard down at all.

“A reason to go home,” she replies, “to go home and know I deserve it.”

She cannot sleep, not with a feather mattress beneath her. Her crew would not let her sleep on the ship, not when there was comfortable accommodations worthy of their lady captain. Through the open window she hears the splash of the waves against the distant shore, the cries of the gulls.

She sees the sun rise through her window, rising to greet her in the east and moving from her home in the west. The world is a sphere and her life is a cycle of death and destruction. The sun rises after the long night. Fields are razed and burned. They grow again.

Maybe, by the time she reaches west again, she will be like the crops after winter, budding and ready to grow.

Sometimes you need to relearn how to be.

Arya reads the note before they leave port and head west again. This time they have a plan, they have rations for weeks before they port again and restock, aware of their path now that they are back in the known.

Your family misses you.

The note is accompanied by another leaf, gold again but held together by a rope made from some type of grass. She never forgot the song, never really forgave Tom Sevenstrings for how often he sang the song to her and Gendry on their travels. It makes her smile now, to remember the good times mixed in with the rotten.

“Subtle,” she breathes out as she drapes the leaf around her neck. “Real subtle Bran.”

“Where are we headed my lady?”

Her first mate gave her a look over the map in her office.

“Home, I think. Eventually.”

“And did you find what you hoped to find?”

She smiles, small but not sad.

“Not yet,” she replies as she moves to roll up their incomplete map. “But by the time we make it back I think I will.”

#arya stark #gendrya #gendry baratheon #game of thrones #got fic #my fic #isakvaltersnake #holiday fic gifts

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kittycatgundam · 4 years

Text

The demon of song

Chapter 5

After Pixie and Alastor had finished cooking and everyone had their fill some of them went to their rooms and went to bed.

Pixie was so tired that she fell asleep instantly. She tossed and turned as the dream she having unfolded.

Pixie sat up in her bed but she not in the hotel. She down at her hands. Her hands look like they did when she was alive. She look across the room to see another bed. The bed belong to only one person. It was Alastor's bed.

She went closer to Alastor's bed and try to wake him. Shake him, begging with tears in her eyes to wake up. When nothing worked she took the cover and pull them off hoping this would wake him.

Pixie heart drop when she look at Alastor's dead human body bloody and look like it been chew up by some animal and some of parts of his body were missing.

She felt sick to her stomach but she too scared to throw up. She want to scream but her voice was gone all she can do is cry.

"Songbird wake up, Pixie wake up!"

Pixie eyes shot open and she sat up in her bed. The voice that had wake her up belong to the demon sitting on her bed and holding on her shoulders. Alastor! Tears roll down her cheek. She try to stop them but all she could do was wipe them away but the tears kept coming.

"Why can't I stop crying? I want these tears to stop!"

Alastor pull Pixie onto a tight hug.

"I'm sorry, I left you all alone. I should been there to protect you. From the day I saw you singing on stage when we first met all I want to do is to protect that beautiful smile of your."

Pixie couldn't hold her grief back anymore. That night Alastor didn't come back after his killing. She waited for a month for him to come home. She also tuned in to the radio new just hoping that they found him alive safe and sound. The radio host voice came on over the radio sound like he needed to learn to project his voice better before he come close to Alastor's level of hosting.

Pixie turn up the volume on the radio to hear the radio host talk. She wish she didn't hear what he had to say.

"Ladies and gentlemen it come with great sadness to report that our beloved radio host Alastor was found dead from dog attacks. Our hearts go out the deceased family and friends."

Pixie turn off the radio and fell to the ground and start to screaming.

"Alastor can't be dead, he can't be... I should been there to protect him or at least die with him! I let him die all alone! I'm the worst, he need me and I was not there! I let the one I love the most in the world die! I should been the one who should die not him! I want him here with me! Bring Alastor back to me now!"

Soon Pixie voice was gone but the tears still keep coming and that night cry herself asleep. When she woke up that morning nothing matter anymore the love of life was gone she wish was dead.

With Alastor dead Pixie didn't have job. All the money she had was the money they kept in the apartment. She went and got it put in her pocket.

The home they share was going to taking from her of course since it was in his name and the fact people were going to look through their stuff. She bet they going find something that tie Alastor to a few murder that were yet be solved and if she stay the cops would arrest her believing she was his accomplice.

That mean she had to leave tonight! She grabbed a bag and put food, some bottles of hard alcohol, and some Alastor clothes. His clothes were a little big on her but it would keep her warm and they smell like him. She even soaked a handkerchief in his cologne so she could smell it and remember him it might even put a smile back on her face but she was betting it was just make her cry again.

She took the bottle of his cologne with her so could look at it. It been a gift she give Alastor a few Christmas ago. He told he love it. He always put some on everyday she didn't understand why.

Pixie started to think of little things Alastor did that made her happy. It made her chest hurt more and tears roll down her cheeks.

This wasn't the time to grieve over Alastor at least not yet. She grabbed a few more things and left the apartment. Pixie went down a few streets until she came to a hotel. She stay until she ran out of money then she be on the streets for good.

That night she didn't sleep she just cried. She didn't even want to look in a mirror she knew her eyes were red from crying. She couldn't even think she just missed Alastor.

It took a week for the money ran out and now she living on the streets. It wasn't something new to her some nights when she was hitchhiking to Louisiana she had to sleep outside at least she had a little money to get food with but soon that run out too.

One day a man told her he had a job that he could give her. Pixie knew what kind of job the man was trying to sell her and was he kidding himself if he through she going to fell for it.

Pixie told the man that she was not interested in being one of his flappers for hire girls. Pixie was not interested in sex unless it was with Alastor.

She walk down the street to get away from the man. The man became angry and grabbed her.

Pixie found herself with a gun in her back and was soon lead to a hotel room. She was push on to bed. She knew what was about to happen and she not going let it happen to her again. She took out her blue poison bottle, took off the top, and before the man could stop her drink all the poison that was left in the bottle. The poison work fast and Pixie die in seconds.

She was hoping that in the afterlife she get to be with Alastor again. Tell him that she love him and that she missed him.

Pixie woke up in a alley way in the same blue showgirls dress complete with boa and heels she wore the first singing gig she did in Louisiana where she first met Alastor. She came out the alley way and found the first reflective surface she could find and look at herself. Her beautiful dark auburn hair was now blue and she had cat ears! Her nails were blue too.

"Where in the hell.."

Seen some of the signs she knew didn't need to finished that sentence. She was in hell. Of course she never through she going to heaven be a serial killer and all.

A smile spread across Pixie's face but she didn't know why. She couldn't remember alot from her life before she die was it because she committed suicide or were you not supposed to remember anything about your life before you died. It doesn't matter anymore she fine her place in hell one way or the other. It time to see what hell had to offer.

Back in her room in Hazbin Hotel Pixie tears stop coming and she was feeling a little better. Memories of her life that she couldn't remember came flooding back. Along with the memories came secrets that she had forgotten. Secrets that she and Alastor share. One big secret!

"Al can we go to your room please? My room isn't set up yet and I don't want someone especially Angel hearing our biggest secret."

"If that what my songbird want."

With a snip of his fingers they disappeared and reappeared in Alastor's room. Pixie was sitting on his bed which was so soft and smell like him. She let herself fall on his bed.

"Al I want your bed! It so comfortable!"

"Get off my bed Antoinette!"

Pixie got off his bed and lean her back against the nearby wall folded her arms and looking at the floor.

"Feeling really privilege because you know my real name I bet you fine it really entertaining calling me by that name knowing how much I hate been called by that name."

"Sometimes but I'm the only who get to know you by that name."

"Good, then I stay in lobby with other so you won't be able to call me by that name."

Alastor grabbed Pixie chin making her look at him.

"Listen I can't stress this enough that our biggest secret stay a secret."

"Because I'm such a failure as a Overlord that it would hurt your reputation as the big bad Radio Demon wouldn't want that now would we!"

Alastor roll his eyes at this joke or lest he through was a joke.

"No, if our secret is revealed then you become a target for the other Overlords or any demon for that matter to hurt you to get to me."

"Yes, I know Al. Even though I'm as strong as you they use every trick they can demon don't fight fair no one does."

"No matter what you're still my sassy songbird!"

Alastor pull Pixie to him.

"Al!"

He held her tightly in his arms.

"You're enjoying this too much Radio Demon!"

Pixie face was hot from blushing but she smiles happily. Alastor laughed at how cute his songbird was been right now.

"You know I hate seeing your fake smiles."

"I only it has a strategy so I don't seem weak."

"Never use that strategy on me again understand."

"Don't worry I won't you're not my enemy you never were. So if we're finished here I'm going back to bed."

"You could spend the rest of the night with me. Come on one night won't hurt."

"I got two words for you Al, Angel Dust. If you ok with that pervert see me coming out of your room in the morning then I guess it will be ok."

"Good point."

Pixie was about to leave Alastor's room.

"Hey songbird catch!"

She felt a pillow hit her in the head as Alastor laughed.

"Take my pillow and I'll take your pillow."

"Fine, good night Al!"

With that she close his door went back to her room. She got back in bed and hug Alastor's pillow tightly to herself. It smell like him. Her heart was skipped happily in her chest. She lay her head on his pillow breathing in his scent and falling back into a deep sleep.

The next morning after breakfast and she and Alastor had their coffee. Everyone went to the lobby.

"Can I ask you something Pixie?" Charlie asked her.

"Sure Princess, ask me anything." Pixie said as she curtsied to Charlie.

"You don't have do that and you can just call me Charlie. Do you think a demon can be rehabilitated?"

"Most demons will tell you no and I bet they already have but I think there is way you can do it but it's a very slim chance. It's like quitting smoking you can't do it how does that saying go the one kids use... cold turkey that it. You have to let demons in indulge in their sins or they will just keep failing."

"But it's possible?" Asked Vaggie as she and Charlie look at Pixie with a hopefully looks.

"In theory maybe, I have see what I can do and what have to work with." Pixie told them.

"How the hell would know anything about psychology? Did you go some big name college or something?" Asked Husk.

"Nope, I never went to high school." Pixie told Husk.

"I die in the 1930's going to college wasn't a real goal for women in my time."

"So what are you some super genius?" Joked Angel Dust as Pixie just smiles at him. "Aw come on there no fuck way. Don't tell me she is a super genius!"

Alastor put a hand on Pixie's shoulder and smiled widely.

"Pixie will be the hotel new psychologist and therapist as well as been another Overlord like myself she will also provide protection for the hotel." Said Alastor.

"Pixie as The Siren you can make any demon do your will after hearing your Siren song right? Can you do us all a favor and use your Siren song on your pompous, cheesy, talk-show shitlord boyfriend and control him so he doesn't destroy everything we work on so far." Vaggie asked Pixie angrily.

"Vaggie!" Yell Charlie.

"Ok, first off Alastor not my boyfriend and second he a Overlord and just as powerful as I am my Siren song only work on less powerful demon. Alastor basically immuned to my Siren songs." Pixie explained to everyone.

"I'm so sorry Pixie." Said Charlie as she pat Pixie arm. "Thank you helping the hotel."

"I'm happy to help in anyway I can." Said Pixie sweetly.

"Good, then you help me make lunch for the hotel guests and staff." Alastor said as he grab Pixie hand and pull her toward the kitchen.

"Ok, Al I'm coming you don't have to pull me so hard. You're about to pull my arm out it socket." Pixie told Alastor as she followed him.

Finding her place at Hazbin Hotel, making friends with Charlie and the rest, and most importantly been by Alastor side. Pixie became the Overlord The Siren to protect this hotel and her new friends. She get to be by Alastor side again which made her happier then she ever been since coming to hell. If helping out this hotel mean she get to spend eternity with Alastor then she do what she could to help. She couldn't wait to see how entertaining this was going to be.

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inexchangeforyoursoul · 5 years

Text

FINALLY birthed this thing. I’m officially a disaster with writing anything that involves conflict. Just like irl. :”) Anyway, yeah, there were 3 reasons why I did not finish this immediately about a month ago.

Első: See above.

Második: I had no idea what I wanted the last drop for Hawks to be before writing the rest in advance anyway, whoopsie~

Harmadik: I was.... reeeeeally not sure whether I want to publish this during pride month, seeing as I’m cis, and what kind of shit I put in this. (..... ok I’ve been thinking about this, and somebody just tell me if I’m plain projecting shit here. I might as well. Like, I always am, but it has usually got to do with characters being heavily #relatable in some way in strictly canon, which goes for everyone I write scenarios for. But now I’m thinking about whether there is something more to this, bc me headcanoning Shiggy as genderfluid and starting that shitty LawxOC body swap fic came around the same time two years ago, and now here’s Hawks, too. I’m onto you, me. I’m so onto me...)

Anyway... if you want the usual fluff, you might wanna sit this one out. (There’s some of it, but beware of everything else... it got p long (~6.5k), too, so you might wanna read it on a proper platform for txt: AO3 )

Big, BIG thanks @cutiesableye @acidmatze @waxwingedhawks and @mistystarshine for basically proofreading it and slapping a big green GO into my nervous face. Or being at it rn; regardless, I am thankful. Sssh, only dreams now.

I hope y’all be as uncomfortable reading the meat of this as I was writing it, whoops.

For how much he's surrounded by people normally -which he enjoys most of the time, really- Hawks prefers the silent rooftop right now. It shouldn't be anything out of the ordinary, he'd need a lot more alone time in the first place… but he's supposed to be working right now. Be in the thick of this spying shit, collecting intel from social and environmental clues like nobody's business.

Returning to the room is not something he wants right now, though. The topic and the awkward atmosphere it brought are weighing on him, and he'd rather get over this before moving on with the sleuthing business. He's been perching over the weed-ridden parking lot for like half an hour already, though. Judging by what he can pick up, the League is back to their time killing activities, and not very concerned about his absence. He noticed Spinner checking on him some time back from the doorway, and that's what it was. He's low-key grateful that they would let him breathe instead of poking around some more, or tailing him. If it's something he's allowed to do all the time, it'll be a luxury he's plain going to cherish for as long as it lasts.

Another plus is… that his reasons to join have become more than just believable. Even if this bit of information was not something he wanted to share. Like, at all. Ever. It was perhaps naive to think nobody will ever find out in the first place, that it would stay a secret of the select few who trained and took care of him. But the ones aware of it now being the members of Japan's most infamous terrorist organization… is not reassuring.

Still… they are letting him be alone. It's… nice. Being seen as a person. It also hurts, though.

His feathers catch onto the vibrations of someone coming up the staircase again. The echoes tell of familiar size, weight and shapes… he knows who it will be. Being a wild card, he's probably coming on his own volition. The plastic smile is already in place, even though it has never worked on the guy- this was nice while it lasted.

The metal door opens with a lazy creak, then there's a soft thud, followed by slacking steps that stop right behind him. Dabi takes a swig from the beer can in his hand before speaking. "So… Peacock and Starling, huh."

"What about them, bacon face?" It's a funny feeling to hear someone say those… names, technically. It's equally funny to think that one of those is what he'd be known as if things go a little more his way. Even considered the title Phoenix for a moment, but that was too pretentious even for him, not to mention ill-fitting past being made of reds and yellows. As for the flashy Peacock… it's easy to see why the blatant joke got rejected off the bat. He'd look sick in iridescent blues and greens for sure, but that's all the reason he ever had to consider it. Those colors didn’t fit his basically pre-established brand… and nowadays he'd rather be invisible than catch even more eyes, anyway. And there's the almost, almost final Red Starling, which had the prototype of his current hero costume and everything…

He wanted to avoid predatory birds when given the task to choose a hero name, blatant secondary traits notwithstanding. They were beautiful creatures, yes… but hardly something reassuring and safe, killing for a living, full of pointy bits. Someone else probably wouldn't have batted an eye and had gone for the intimidation factor, but it was simply not what he had in mind.

A hawk… is a borderline case. It's among the smaller species and underwent some form of domestication, after all. They are not ideal for being kept as mere pets, though; they serve a purpose, instead.

They are used.

Used to hunt for sport or pest control, as he usually does. As he's supposed to right now.

So 'Hawks' was an afterthought, invoking the image of speed and danger. Which they insisted on, especially after… that. Smuggling the S at the end on the form was a last passive-aggressive jab after getting the okay, before letting go of who he used to, or wanted to be. It was fascinating to see the big shots make peace with it almost immediately, and regarding it as an improvement, even; 'makes it easier to associate with a swarm of feathers,' and 'more unique and identifiable,' they said. As if the original idea didn't accomplish both. It really was just… fascinating. The rest of these names, he banished to the stuffiest, darkest corners of his mind, as there were few good things, and even less pleasant memories attached to them. Until… today.

What has happened was simple and logical- the idea whether he'd choose another alias for underground activities came up. Mentioning them in the first place was an enormous mistake… and entertaining either as a viable option was even more so. Disturbing those relics reminded him of those buried memories and feelings, and all he can think of right now is the way Himiko's words rang in his ears barely half an hour ago.

Today, your smell reminds me of Big Sister.

Dabi lets out a sigh before getting to the meat of it. He spent the time Hawks had been gone on thinking himself, and there's a lot to unpack here. So he ought to take it step by step, lest he gets lost in the details. “Let me… get this story of yours straight."

… Great. This is exactly what he needs.

"It starts with… dirty, piss-poor little you getting caught up in a car accident and single handedly resolving it, right? Then, for doing something nice and selfless like that… you got sold off like a slab of fucking meat to the government.”

He blinks. "Hmm… not the most revolutionary take on it. I know you can do better." Claiming that the thought has never crossed his mind would be a lie. He just never let himself dwell on it. But now, this idiot is making him do exactly that. Or is trying to, at the very least. It certainly seems to be one of those convos. This… is turning out to be a major pain in the ass right away. Maybe he should reconsider provoking him this time around, it could backfire big time in the current mood of his.

“It is what happened, though, wasn’t it?” Dabi continues, slipping down to sit next to him, one leg dangling over the edge. “And once your apparently sub-par parents raked in the easy money, and washed their hands of you… you got stripped of everything.”

"Bold of you to assume that I had much to lose, bro. If you know about the accident, you also know where they picked me up from." Putting up a front aside, there was a rough edge to that 'everything' that makes Hawks want to run for the hills immediately. Nope, he is positively not in the mood for antagonistic banter at the moment. He wasn't really able to hide his upset and embarrassment over the situation, so Dabi must have found some twisted sense of enjoyment in pestering him about this specifically. Why can't this asshole just… shut up for once. He thought the villain incapable of it, but he does it so damn well with others around. Sticking with the lot might be a good idea, because solo Dabi is worse. He… he better filter out all the babbling before he starts thinking about bad shit or worse. It’s been a while since he had to take such measures, but he'll have to lull himself into a coma, and just… shut up. Inside out. And hope that Dabi gets bored of him.

“Doesn't change the point, does it, now. They started with any meaningful human contact you may have had… until they erased every last ounce of self," Comes the continuation while Hawks tries to block it out; "They denied you time, likes, attention, possibly even your basic fucking needs while moulding you into a perfect little cleanup machine that fears no death. Then tossed your dried-up skeleton into a roomy cage, filled with expensive junk to fill the void, as a semblance of compensation. Well thanks for fucking nothing, you sick fucks."

Hawks' eyes have locked onto a sunbathing lizard in the distance, but the idle animal is not quite enough of a distraction and his fingers twitch with the tightening grip over the wall's edge. Why does it sound as if Dabi was taking his side?

Shut up… don't pay attention.

He winces when Dabi pulls on the collar of his tracksuit to take a disgusted look at the label. "All the shit you wear was gifted from companies you played dress-up doll for, wasn't it… one fantastic billboard, you are. You own literally nothing else, do you? I'm sure that's the case, because, funny story… a newbie classmate of mine, some dump kid whose parents became new money, had always obscene amounts of cash on him… but after an initial shopping spree, he never could bring himself to buy a fucking thing. So we asked him about it. Turns out he simply felt like utter shit for spending any of it unless he had a good reason. I laughed then, but apparently, getting a bag of chips is a gargantuan issue for most people who grew up in poverty."

He leans closer, low words dripping like liquid venom in Hawks' ear. "You, too, feel like garbage every time you spend an ounce of money on something you can do without, don't you? Reminding yourself that there are dozens of that thing at home, lying untouched in your wardrobe that's the size of some families' entire house. Pray-tell Hawks, how many times did you sit over a full basket of online goods… the stuff of your dreams, probably some basic ass shit... only to back out at the last second, hmm?"

Shut up.

Dabi's eyes slide to the tense hands possibly attempting to tear the crumbling edge off the worn wall. A second later, he distances himself again, stirring the can with lazy, circular motions. "I don't even want to imagine what it feels like. Never spent a fucking dime on anything but charities, I fancy. And the odd bottle of booze, fuck or junk food… Are those chicken bits the only thing you're allowed to get? Tch.”

“What a fucking luxury, being allowed to treat yourself to a bucket every other week, when your disgusting training diet has been set in stone three months in advance." It sounds like a personal addendum, but not a single word in that sentence escapes the overbearing sarcasm and condescension.

A still ticking cogwheel in the hero's head wonders why Dabi knows of the standard diet thing he has to undergo at least twice a year being three months long, and how he could possibly know that he's come to hate half of the dishes over the years. The overwhelming majority of said cogs have long come to a halt, however, screeching SHUT UP. He's not sure who or what that message is directed to anymore. Probably both of them.

Dabi’s waltzing wrist comes to a halt, soon followed by the whirling liquid in the can; it's a minute break, the kind that's just enough to make conversations awkward. In fact, the silence is too big for Hawks to handle- there’s no white noise to drown out and it makes not thinking, not paying attention unbearably hard. The lizard disappears under the cracked asphalt, leaving him with nothing.

“With how long it took you to respond to Shigaraki, they also stripped you of your name. And what I got from the exchange with Toga… is that the same goes for your body, too.”

A shiver runs down Hawks’ back and wings over the addition, kicking the machine brain back in full order despite his best efforts. Dabi takes a big swig of beer and lets out a sigh, resulting in another ill-placed pause. It gives Hawks time to think, goddammit, and he thinks too fast, too hard, about everything.

“While you were moping up here, I've come to realize why you always seem to be so hilariously desperate to one-up me in any given way… it’s because you actually are grasping for straws. You have no control whatsoever, over anything. None." There’s a somber undertone to his voice. The can, along with the remaining sloshes of beer, are flung down to the concrete wasteland and land with a sad, high pitched clank. "My sister used to be like this… people like you don’t dare to ask why things happen. You will believe you’d done something wrong to deserve it all… maybe see yourselves as a necessary sacrifice. Did they ask you to be a martyr, or did you decide so yourself, bird brain? Not that it matters… because that’s exactly what your bosses want and they'd keep on twisting your arms until they get there… but I bet they did. They didn't ask whether you actually wanted it, though… or ask anyone else, about anything, for that matter."

He reaches over Hawks' vaguely trembling shoulders for the jaw, forcing his face out of hiding. The grip turns gentler as the man's head turns in his general direction, though he's refusing to make eye contact. Dabi keeps him there like that for a while, dissecting him with icy, blue scalpels.

"Gentle like a dove… you'd have flipped the fuck out and been talking shit ever since I opened my mouth any other day. Is this the defense mechanism you developed for these situations?" There's some twitches to the corner of the mouth, but the other remains unresponsive. Heaving another, mildly annoyed sigh, he pries the hero off the crumbling wall with a disgruntled huff and turns to face him. Once there’s some space to work with, he tilts the head in his grasp to the left, to the right… no resistance. "To see you like this is creepy as all hell, birdie… do you even register what I'm saying anymore? Or is ignoring me the goal? Hmm?"

He scoffs at the glazed eyes, then shakes his head. "I'd imagine you met some pigs high up on the food chain soon after the stunt… those monsters can do anything they want. Then buy silence from pocket change." He starts caressing the other's face as the trembling turns more and more into shaking. "Isolated, innocent eye candy kid at their mercy…… I can only imagine what they’d do to a sweet little plaything like you."

A visceral reaction makes Hawks' stomach convulse, threatening to empty itself, and the muscles in the rest of his body follow suit. Unwanted scraps of memories, all the blurred scenes, images and feelings he didn't quite manage to erase flare up in his mind. And even though his entire being is revolting against being reminded of hugs that felt off by a mere margin, of touches that were always, always distinctively soft and slimy, and things sometimes even worse, and much worse… the sole thing that betrays his near perfect neutral expression is a pair of clenched jaws. What concerns him even more than any of this, however, is the fact that his tear ducts have been burning up for some unknown time, and...

… too late. There’s already a droplet of water sitting on the thumb Dabi lifted up a second ago.

The tear gets reduced to nothing between the pensive swipe of two fingers as he lets go of him. “Thought so…”

A sliver… a handful of cells, some unidentifiable part of Hawks is thankful that Dabi doesn’t elaborate on what he’s thinking right now, glaring somewhere distant both past the hero and his own damp hand.

The villain's eyes come back into focus soon enough. There's still… one more thing. "Then you started to grow… and they decided to focus on function over form, since your baby face would be just as marketable with a scruff. Becoming popular and following a strict schedule makes it near impossible for creeps to do as they please, with all the watchful eyes dissecting your every move… so you live on a leash instead. An accessory to show off to guests… and still shiny, new weapon to flashily beat up people with." He cocks his head. "And you loathe mindless violence."

On one hand comes the relief that the previous topic has been dropped as unceremoniously as possible, and he gets a moment to breathe and stop shaking like a leaf. On the other…

They are used. Used to hunt pests…

Having less than no time for himself, the daily drill of regular heroing and the overwhelming amount of paperwork the job comes with are things he can deal or cope with… It’s fighting, hurting and confronting other people he loathes the most, even if he'll ram heads with the bigger fish to ensure a more stable framework for everyone to live in. For… others to live in.

Forcing himself into a group of known murderers and the deception this comes with is just the icing on the rotten cake. God, all these fucking lies, he cannot look into the mirror anymore for being overcome with sheer disgust. And now he's stuck with it until the source of all Noumu can be located, too. Why can’t things be like a shitty cops and robbers chase and, just… easy? Simple? Is it really that much to ask for?

But what makes it unnerving is to know that Dabi’s right, always fucking right. About people, what a living nightmare being a hero is once one looks past the glitter covers, and pretty much everything else. But most importantly, he's right about him. He hates being predictable at all, not to mention being read with confidence, and right now he feels as naked as an open book with covers ripped clean off.

He can feel more tears break free, and his fingers scrape over the rough concrete, letting the bumps and glass shards cut a fingertip or two open. It's frustrating. Every single time they happen to make contact… Dabi either makes a good point or manages to get the upper hand in the most inane, little ways, and it’s so… frustrating.

He can’t keep bottling it all up forever, but what is he supposed to do about these feelings?

“What I'm not sure about… is what exactly they are thinking this time.” There’s a thoughtful pause before the continuation; every last tendon in the blonde’s body tenses up. “Are they actually this desperate to get us for good… or is it you they want to get rid of that bad?”

For a moment that seems like an eternity, Hawks feels… absolutely nothing. Nothing but the piercing glare of the very sky above them, staring straight through the villain's eyes. “Psycho girl is right… you really have no idea how to say no.”

Why now… Hawks can't tell. But hearing the same shit he's thinking about for the millionth time makes something crack. Click. Snap. And next thing he knows, he’s already tackled Dabi to the ground and is clenching his fists into his coat; the man himself doesn’t look too surprised over the turn of events, which drives him even madder.

“Every,” his voice shakes with bubbling anger and is lower and gravelier than his normal, but it will do. Hawks pulls on the leather hard enough to lift the other before slamming him back onto the grey concrete--- “Every” --- over--- “single” --- and over--- “aspect” --- and over, “of you,” and over, “drives me up… the fucking wall,” and over… “any time you open your godforsaken MOUTH,” this time, he goes a little over the top, as the big yank is followed by a pointed knock upon Dabi’s head meeting the ground and his lungs flatten under the pressure of fists, but Hawks is not in the mindset to give a flying fuck about the minor inconveniences of the villain at the moment. Fucker has dug this grave himself, so he better lie in it. "how the everloving fuck... How…! How can you possibly know me more than I do?! TELL ME!!” He asks with an ever growing voice that borders screaming by now, all while shaking the man relentlessly.

He's about to pull and slam him down again when Dabi's hands grab onto his arms just below the wrist. Maybe it's that he did not expect it, but the grip definitely stings a little. As fragile as Dabi is, he thought those scrawny arms less powerful, but apparently what does he know? Still angry, he tears one hand free while shooting a glare at the villain.

There's a trail of blood flowing down his cheek around where Hawks' fist rubbed against at the time of the yank. Dabi blinks once, leaving his left eye with an odd pink texture as his lid smears the leaking red fluid all over it. Not too surprisingly, his face remains as unreadable as a mannequin's, and eyes as cold as that of a taxidermy specimen. Hawks hates looking at him when they are like this, which is most of the time. "Careful, little bird… you're tearing at the seams. Don't want to end up like this, do you?”

That calm voice works like just another taunt, making the hero want to beat him to a pulp, or at the very least, continue where he's just left off with flattening him into the concrete. At the same time… hesitation wedges his joints to a halt. No… No, he doesn’t want to end up ‘like this,’ whatever it may have been to drive Dabi into burning himself alive on a daily basis.

And he notices. Of course he does. Hawks could swear to see his lips curve, but it may just be the angle.

“Fucked-up kids know how to read others pretty well, don’t you think?”

Hawks’ still short breath hitches and he freezes upon feeling a hand, the very same he just shook off, slide over his hips, ice cold on his heated skin even through the fabric of a t-shirt. There's no real intent behind it; in fact, it feels like a doctor's indifferent, calculated touch. Somehow, that makes it even worse. "… didn't even have the decency to start stuffing you with testosterone from the get-go, huh?"

Another statement that sounds more like a personal note than anything else, and it makes Hawks’ skin crawl.

“Well I can’t read you for shit! Congratulations!!!” He barks, slapping the intrusive limb away. “For starters, what was this supposed to be about, hell, why the fuck did you even come up here?! Just to gloat about it into my face? Or do you want to make fun of me for not being able to decide whether I’d rather be a cheeky bitch or the insufferable prick I am today?!”

There’s tears streaming down his face again, but he couldn’t care less. It hurts like all hell… especially remembering full well how fucking much waking up from what was supposed to be nothing more than an open break surgery hurt- there was near nothing to remove, for fuck's sake. But claiming not to enjoy at least some aspects of what being a man brought would be just more lies on the throne built on them.

Mentioning his interest in IT and mechanics to strangers is not criticised or made fun of, not anymore. Neither is his tendency to run ahead of others in pretty much every situation. Instead of second guessing, people default to respecting and listening to what he says on any given topic in general, and he stopped doubting himself, too. The circumstances were a special kind of fucked-up for sure… but he also ended up having fewer weak spots than almost everyone else, which did come handy a couple of times. The hormones he received made him taller than he ever could have grown realistically, too. And rejecting fans is easier as most women- and most of them are women,- know basic fucking etiquette.

But he also wants cheesy tees with cats and birds and flowers that he never gets to sponsor. Cuter shoes that are still comfy. Some eyeshadow every now and then. Wear the prettiest blues and greens, and maybe… maybe a nice dress.

"… You are pissed for the same reason I am.”

By the time Hawks has processed the sentence, he is the one being pressed into the roof, with one wing stuck awkwardly underneath him. For a dreadful moment he breaks into cold sweat, because this also means that Dabi is between his legs, and--- fuck, this is the last fucking position he wants to find himself in, especially right fucking now. He doesn’t get to break out in panic, however, because the villain is busy strangling him against the lukewarm ground. It’s his turn to grab onto the other’s arms as he wheezes for some air. He needs to calm the fuck down somehow, otherwise he won’t be able to use his feathers---

“Looking at you… is like staring at a distorted mirror image at fucking funland.” Hawks cracks his eyes open, seeing Dabi stare right back at him. It's as if someone put goddamn transparency over the villain to make the blinding blue behind him visible. He’d blame cold eyes in general, but he doesn’t find Twice’s even lighter ones nearly this creepy when Dabi’s like this. His burn with intensity rivaling All Might and Endeavor, which have always made him uneasy.

“What a nice pair of custom-made patchwork monstrosities we are…” His voice delves into a hiss as the grip tightens over the hero’s neck. “… makes me sick to my stomach."

Hawks coughs under the weight on his throat. He manages to get some air in and think clearly enough to turn back to logical thinking; if Dabi wanted to go for the kill, he’d be toast by now. Motherfucker is just toying with him for the hell of it, isn’t he? He flexes his wings against the rough concrete and flips the two of them back over to where they started.

“Would you stop playing games, you *cough* sick fuck?!” he wheezes, all out of breath.

"Maybe you’re the one who should stop dicking around, bird brain!"

His next protest gets cut short when Dabi headbutts him in the temples. It feels half-hearted, but gets him to shut up for a moment nonetheless, which is all that the other needs.

"The fuck did you scrape us up from the floor for, HUH?! You had ONE JOB, and you could have been done with it just like that… but instead...!! INSTEAD you played nurse and started to GET ALL COMFORTABLE AND SHIT!” The villain’s voice is basically rolling like thunder over the forsaken plot.

Hawks’ angry and pained grimace twitches under his hand- he’s seen Dabi smug, and aloof, and crazed, but not… angry. Not to mention angry with him, specifically. And, once again, it’s one of those little, irritating, miniscule things that are… true. He didn’t get an order to stick around and follow the lead to the Noumu until like a week later, so it was all unnecessary and ended up being even more work and trouble than it was worth.

He didn’t have to help when he found all of them dying, bleeding and broken.

He also didn’t have to start talking to Compress and Twice and Giran, then all the rest as they warmed up to him and came to.

He wasn’t supposed to lie about their initial status, he didn’t have to keep covering for them after they were all walking and doing all right, after the decent person in him had already been satisfied.

And he definitely never meant to get… attached.

A pull on his tracksuit wakes him from the shock, just as Dabi continues screaming at him head-on. “And YET, there still isn't anything YOU want from us?! REALLY?!! Do you want to be a puppet for the rest of your life, idiot?!"

Well… Hawks had been called names before. He never thought that being called a ‘puppet’ would offend him this much, but that... that certainly just did it.

“NO, I DON’T!” He screams back at him, voice swaying all over the place.

"CAN'T HEAR YOU, BITCH!!"

"I SAID I DON'T WANT 'o!!” Whatever air's still in Hawks' lungs gets stuck inside as a wave of what’s probably fear washes over him upon hearing his own, distorted voice crack and echo in the empty parking lot. Realizing just how much he's straining his voice, a sudden knot manifests in his stomach that folds his rage into a small, jittery, awkward package.

“Ah… I,” It takes so much effort to squeeze out a single thing, what--- why is he embarrassed? “I don’t---”

The next word gets stuck somewhere between his thoughts and throat when the same cold hand from before leaves a little pat on his head.

"See? Wasn't that fucking hard, was it now." It combs Hawks' hair back, staples getting stuck here and there on the fragile strands. There’s nothing methodical about it this time; the entire gesture is just… gentle. "Good job, chicken."

Just like that… all that rage, despair and helplessness, along with the last confusing bundle of emotions, evaporates out of the blue, leaving Hawks empty and tired, somewhat nervous, and maybe a little… relieved. It takes him a bit to be able to think of anything at all, god knows how much time passes while he blinks blankly in front of him. It takes a rugged sigh from Dabi underneath him to phase back into reality; the scarred hand has long disappeared, and is tucked behind the villain’s head along with the other as he’s gazing at the passing clouds. The first coherent thought that crosses Hawks’ head is a fully formed fact- what kind, and with what purpose, he doesn't know or begin to understand… but this was… a test, or rather, a lecture.

A very… very crudely executed lecture.

Hawks sniffs with a stuffy nose. Fucking… fucking fucker. “… you are an asshole through and though, aren’t you?” And now he’s hoarse, too. Wonderful.

There’s a shrug… well, as much of a shrug it can be from someone in Dabi’s position. “I don’t believe it’s ever been up for debate.”

He sounds so smug, it's just so… ugh. The hero squishes his face with a palm in frustration before crawling off him at last. The annoyed grunt in response is all he needs right now. "Are you done being a nuisance, or do you wanna egg me on some more?"

There's a rare chuckle. "Already making bird puns…? Nah, little bird. Getting hell-and-back pissed is exhausting as fuck. You won't be any more fun today."

With that, Dabi scrambles onto his elbows, then sits back up. He gives a quick massage to his previously flattened nose before rubbing the back of his head; there’s a number of fully formed lumps already. Feathers isn’t very gentle when riled up… at least the spot’s not bleeding. He'll need to put some painkillers to work, though. "Still… the manic look suits you well. I'm getting giddy just thinking about your bosses' reactions upon seeing you like that." In a move that is more or less successful, he licks a finger to rub the trail of rust off his cheek.

Hawks wrinkles his nose upon seeing a rather genuine looking smile on the other’s face. “Please. Noone in their right mind is in my face like you are all the damn time… at least not with the intent of driving me batshit only to make me murder them. You’re a freak case and should not be accounted for.” He sighs, resting his head on an arm- there really is no willpower left in him to do anything for the rest of the day. There better be no trouble on his late evening patrol, or so help him. Or help it, because there's no guarantee he won't snap back to this awkward beat-to-a-pulp mode if confronted with a no-name villain.

After some fidgeting, Dabi produces something from a pocket… something that looks very suspiciously like a worn blunt. “It’s because they don’t have to, dumbass… you are edging towards a nervous breakdown at any given time. Anyway, look… you are no doubt seen as an invaluable asset… but are worth so much more still. Give yourself some credit." Hawks peers back at him just as the conspicuous thing is lit over a wrist which gets shaken after, much like one would put out a match. There’s a tentative draw, followed by another.

“What I want to say is… they are terrified of you, birdie. If not for the danger of exposing their disgusting practices, it's because they fear that their blue ribbon pet won't return from a hunt… for one reason or another. And, just for the record,” He breathes, offering the roll to him; “I'll gladly hold you back for a good scare."

Following a vacant stare and a blink, he takes it. It’s not as if this quite tolerable, for-the-hell-of-it mood of Dabi’s was new, but… he was seriously considering to strangle the guy a minute ago. When exactly did they return to casual banter? Hell if he remembers, or has noticed at all. God… this whole thing has him rattled real good. Hopefully a nap will get him back into the usual pace of things.

“I sure hope not everyone blows their sugarbird pocket money on beer and weed like you do,” The blonde muses once he can feel a different kind of fatigue set in, reaching the blunt back to Dabi. Hypocritical? Maybe. Won't stop him from nagging others for the same shit, though. Comes with the job.

“Well, Compress replaced the crumpled hat… and Tomura decided to save up for a new handheld,” Dabi muses, placing the smoke into the corner of his mouth. "It'll go via Giran, of course. After seeing the taxes on that shit, I can't even blame him."

Can’t help but smile at that. “You are all fucking hopeless.”

A hum is all he gets as a reply.

After a while of comfortable silence, the remains of the roll get snuffed out on the ground. Blinking past Dabi, Hawks can see the sun is soon to set. Fucked like two hours just sitting out here, didn’t he. The Commission better not expect much from today’s endeavor… cannot exactly tell them that he was getting high on the rooftop with the flame villain for a good portion of it, the only villainous topic being creepy fat cats and their own shortcomings. Or that his possibly biggest secret slipped, although they wouldn't give a rat's ass about that. Yyyeah… it’s best to bullshit it.

“Humor me for another minute of real talk, will you, chicken?”

Dabi’s voice drags him back to reality again, only to realize that the light has already turned into a warm yellow. If his bones… or rather joins popped now, he’d feel like the embodiment of a nice little bonfire under the sun. Huh. Guess the stuff was of the better quality to make him think of weird similes and turn his sense of time whack. What was he--- oh, right. He should answer.

“… cannot promise I'll be able to pay attention or remember any of it, but do your best, crouton.” There’s a mild prickly sensation in his wings and his brain feels like marshmallows. If only he could always be so calm.

“Don’t bullshit me, you barely had a whiff." The dirty remains of weed are flung over the roof in annoyance.

He can feel a goofy smile creep onto his face- it's nice to be the source of frustration for once. Maybe all he needs to do is be honest more often. "Second hand smoking goes a long way, bruh."

The initial answer is an exasperated sigh. "Shut it… Anyway, you should cut the sweet chirping and tweeting, birdie. No matter what you do, people take advantage of your position. You know this better than anyone else. So squawk and screech to your heart's content, if that's what you need… and if barking won’t help, get down to biting.” Having said that, he stops surveying the cracked parking lot under the golden sky, and turns back to Hawks.

He forgets to breathe for a second. Good lord… those eyes glow as if they were illuminated by blue fire from inside, and the contrast with the sunset is just… well, literally breathtaking, he supposes. This is among the few times when they don’t creep him out- quite the contrary, in fact. They still feel like X-rays, though. “I guess it really doesn’t matter… by the way, real talk question: can you fucking read minds?”

Not that he expected anything else, but a smug grin appears on the villain’s face. “Maybe~”

“Careful, man. Your pants are sizzling.”

Lo and behold, another rare chuckle. Despite being under the influence of drugs, (or maybe because of that?) Hawks is on a fucking roll.

He can't keep his eyes off those blue ones even once Dabi decides to stare back at him. “Jokes aside… suppose there really is an idiot like me out there, and they get up close and personal… put those clipped talons to work and gouge their fucking eyes out. You have all the means to tear them limb from limb… go all out, who gives a fuck. These are the same kind of people who shit on wild animals from beyond a cage, but watch them run with tail between legs upon realizing that the gates are wide open. And even if you weren't ready to dirty your hands or feathers like that…"

He lifts a pointing finger and rests the tip on the hero’s nose. "One word of yours… and we'll make sure it's the last day they touched anyone. Understand?"

Really, all he can manage to that is a weak, sheepish smile. “… thanks,” he breathes, not knowing what else to say. He should be a thousand times more alarmed over basically being told that someone's ready to kill for him, and not… well, flattered? Touched? Especially since he knows Dabi means it, and so would the rest of them.

“Great,” the other grunts while getting on his feet, and leaning just a little bit on Hawks’ head while doing so. What a turd. Latter’s about to get his stiff legs working as well, but once the vague aching starts subduing, he can see Dabi stop in the doorway and put a hand on his hip. “… those filthy gremlins have been spying on us.”

Indeed… someone brought the hero’s scantily loaded bag to the top of the staircase and left it there.

“In that case,” turns Dabi around, flinging said bag over to Hawks in the same breath, “go straight the fuck home and get yourself presentable, you overgrown turkey. Might wanna decide on the new alias by the next time I call, too. You already know the rest.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, dragging the strap over his head.

Between the echo of boots, there’s a distorted farewell: “See ya, little star.”

Hawks stops in his tracks. He looks over to the empty entrance, and the metal door wide open. The sound of footsteps has faded into barely more than creepy sounds in an abandoned building- if not for his feathers, he wouldn’t even know that six other people are under the roof he’s standing on. Spirits and shadows haunting an old convenience store like many others.

He's nothing more than another ghost out here, and yet… he's never felt so real.

---

No matter what he chooses, Dabi will just stick to 'fancy chicken.' Also, I’m so fucking proud of that Red Starling. Not only is it obscure astronomy bullshit (much like the title of this thing), but it would be a nifty alternative to Hawks; just hit up a video on a flock (or, as I just learned, murmuration) of starlings. Shit’s cray.

#dabi #hawks #bnha #boku no hero academia #DabiHawks #not necessarily shippy but you can certainly read it that way #Kate writes

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witchqueenofthemoon · 5 years

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BODY AND SOUL Part 23 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: So we’re finally right before the Gala. I’m high-key proud of myself and frankly can’t believe I made it here, and yet, here I am, doing it, doing the work, every day, and feeling so fulfilled by it I can’t really describe its effect on me in words. This project has changed me fundamentally and made me confident in my ability to do what I’ve always wanted to do: write fiction. I know I’ll continue to write fiction when this story is done. I’ll continue to do it for the rest of my life. And that is profoundly moving for a person who spent the first decade of her adulthood doubting herself to an insane degree, avoiding her destiny, trying to write literally anything else because fiction scared her so much. So here’s my moment to be proud of myself! Okay, moving on. If you’re interested in more about the history of Cartier LOVE bracelets, there’s a lot about them on Wikipedia, but they indeed cannot be removed without the screwdriver. Here’s Duncan’s duffel they bring to Madeline’s. Here’s Norah Jones’ COME AWAY WITH ME, which I’ve always found to be achingly romantic. I didn’t realize Klimt had painted Athena until I was looking up some of his work for this part, and of course I had to include it in Madeline’s house, mirrored with Duncan’s own Athena--here. I grew up with the Muppets, so I gave Kenzie a Kermit. Billie really did call her grandmother, Debbie Reynolds, Abadaba. Here is the chicken and mushrooms recipe Madeline makes. Here are the Carpenters songs they listen to on the deck: WE’VE ONLY JUST BEGUN, TOP OF THE WORLD, CLOSE TO YOU (I love the Carpenters). I had so much fun writing Madeline’s dialogue. As a weed smoker, I can vouch for the fact that it really does help dampen hangovers. I based Duncan being bullied on the fact that Cody was likewise bullied when he was in school--he talked about it a bit at his SXSW interview. Here is Kenzie’s mustard dress. Claire’s dress. I posted Kenzie’s Gala dress long ago when I first found it (right after I started writing B&S and realized there was a novels-worth of stuff Duckenzie wanted to tell me), and here I finally got a chance to describe it, which was wonderful, cuz I been waitin’. The real version is by Hamda Al Fahim, an incredible Emirati designer who makes exquisitely beautiful fairy-tale-esque gowns. This blazer was my main inspiration for Duncan’s--it’s not quite as nice as his is, but you get the idea (it’s also something like this Saint Laurent velvet blazer, but without those light lapels). His collar tips are something like this, but much fancier and more intricate, and made of real gold. I am so fucking proud of this chapter. As ever, if you’re reading and enjoying the fic, your comments, reblogs, likes and asks and edits mean everything to me.

“Just out of curiosity, what’s your first memory? Your first memory of her.”

Duncan had known in that moment, in fact. He clutched Kenzie’s hand in the backseat of the BMW as Samuel drove them towards Arlington and Madeline, obsessing over the conversation with Claire Underwood for the hundredth time that day, his tears dried now but his mind in no less chaos. I knew even then. As soon as she asked me. As I’ve always known, somewhere in the back of my mind, hidden deep in my psyche. I’ve always known that there was something about me that didn’t fit against Annette Shepherd. That there were parts of me far more hidden than I ever dreamed. And I’m not a fucking Shepherd. I don’t know who the fuck I am.

Kenzie was running her soft little fingers through his, the pad of her thumb crooked into the dip of his hand, and he could feel her face turning to him, glancing at him with worried, bright eyes. He ached at her worry; ached at the sadness that waved out from her onto him, a sadness prompted by his own, a sadness he couldn’t entirely will away. The locking Cartier bracelet glinted now on her wrist pressed against him--its gold and diamonds caught the falling neon lights outside, the street lamps. The other bracelet, of solely solid gold, was around his, and they brushed against each other, cool and smooth, their fingers twined tightly.

Kenzie had called her mother. “Momby, something’s happened--can we come see you? We’ll tell you everything when we get there. Yes, I’m fine. Yes, Duncan’s okay. Well, physically, he’s okay. It’s about Annette. No, she’s not hurt. It’s something else. Can we talk about it when we get there? Duncan’s just--he needs us. Yes, Momby. No. We can order pizza or something. Okay. We’ll be there in like half an hour. Momby can--can we sleep there? In my old room? Yeah. I love you to the moon and back. See you soon.” Then Kenzie had gently pressed him toward the walk-in closet, and said “Dunny, get some things to sleep at Momby’s, okay?” And he’d obeyed, feeling dazed and on the verge of tears again, pulling down one of his leather duffels, absently throwing things inside it. Nothing seemed to matter in this moment--nothing but being near Kenzie, and he felt vague panic now that she wasn’t touching him. Annette is not my mother. Who is my mother? Who the fuck am I? Oh god, baby. Oh god. But Kenzie had returned in a moment, their toothbrushes and some toiletries in her hands, and she piled them in the duffel, then added a few other things-little white lacy underwear, a mustard-colored sleeveless lace dress, her flat lacing sandals, the Tiffany moon necklace, his big black cardigan he now considered to be hers--she seemed to know Duncan wanted her things in his bag, with his, seemed to know it would comfort him, the scent of her on his clothes. She can hear me. You can hear me, baby. You know. Thank you. I love you. I’m afraid, baby. I’m scared.

As Kenzie had finished packing her things in among his, Duncan had gone out to the kitchen, remembering what he’d gotten for her, and retrieved the red Cartier boxes from the island. He’d come back to see Kenzie emerging from the closet with his duffel clutched in her hand, and she’d set it back on the floor as he handed one of the boxes to her in the quiet, fading sunlight of the bedroom, not saying anything. Kenzie had opened the box as he opened his, and her little hand had come up to clutch against her throat, her eyes clouding with tears; Duncan could already tell she’d been crying earlier (crying alone, like I was), her face puffy from the residue of them and her sleep, but it seems today is full of tears--at least these are the happy kind, I think.

“They call them love bracelets,” he’d said to her quietly. “They can only be taken off with these.” He carefully picked the little screwdriver out from the side of the inner lining of the red box that held his, and lifted it out to her, flat in his palm. Duncan’s heart ached, desperately, in this moment--I am offering only myself, aren’t I, Kenzie. All of me, but only me, my faults, my sorrows, my anger, my sense of loss, my loneliness and my confusion, my temper, my flaws. These things I offer alongside my hopes and my dreams, my love for you. But no longer the Shepherd name. That name isn’t really mine. I don’t know what my name is. I offer you the indistinct self that remains. He watched her face in the fading light; the little bob of her throat, her hands trembling. He thought, wildly--I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve your love. You’re an angel, and I’m no one.

“They’re so beautiful, Dunny. Let’s put them on each other. May I?”

He’d nodded, eyes filling with tears again, biting his lip to stop them, feeling an ache in his mind, the ache of the terribleness of this day, the ache of her acceptance, lost in his relief towards her. Kenzie had leaned up to kiss him, her eyes closed, her eyelashes casting tiny shadows on her cheeks--her mouth was terribly soft and made him moan into her with succor. Saint Mackenzie, who consoles. Her touch alone heals me--reaches down into my secret heart, and presses it to her holy mouth, her kisses sweet beyond measure.

“I love you so very much,” she had whispered, and Kenzie had set her box down on the island; lifted the gold bracelet from the box he held with one hand, the little gold screwdriver with the other, and stared at him for a moment with an expression of devotion and trust in her eyes that shook him to the core of his being. Then, she used the screwdriver to unlock the bracelet, glittering in her hands--had ever so gently linked it around his wrist, bending her head over him to lock it into place. Duncan had lifted his other hand as she did this, pressing it down the dip of her hair, feeling another wave of tears cascade from his eyes, falling freely down his cheeks, and he’d shivered, shivered with the feeling of the hand of Fate on them again. You are my Soulmate, Mackenzie Stone. You are exalted above all others in my eyes. And next to you, all others have no hold over me. Not even Annette. No one. Kenzie looked up into his eyes as the bracelet clicked closed--his face fell against hers and he kissed her again, and she had whispered “Dunny, I love you, I love you, baby, I will always love you, I’m here, oh baby, it’s okay, I love you, more than anything, I’m yours--” and he could feel himself nodding, hands coming around into her hair, lost in her comforting voice. They stood pressed together, quietly, Kenzie’s voice drifting into silence, his mouth pressing up against her forehead, her fingers running along the gold bracelet around his wrist, now tethered against him (I’ll never take it off, never) and Duncan could feel her pressing her golden comfort into his body, and the wrenching sorrow he had felt was melting away into a duller, smaller pain, a distant sting.

“Now, do me.” Kenzie’s fingers trailed over the gold around Duncan’s wrist for a moment, then she handed him the box that held her bracelet--the diamonds glittered in the low light of the drop chandelier over their heads as he opened it, and Duncan noticed, almost removed from himself, that his fingers were trembling too. He tried to grip the screwdriver and fumbled with it, almost dropped it--Kenzie had gripped his hand and steadied it, and he’d breathed out, ragged, lost in the feeling of her hand. Then he’d felt her pressing into his mind again, felt her golden comfort, and his heart was relieved, the burden lifted away from it so he could see her clearly, see how trusting she was to him in this moment, see how luminously beautiful she was in the halo of this promise, the glow of the love that drifted between them. He grasped her little wrist, sliding the unlocked bracelet onto it, and his head dipped down to press his lips against her hand. My Kenzie, more beautiful than a starry sky. My moonlight, healing every corner of me, every dark place.

His hands quieted--almost removed from them, he watched himself lock the bracelet deftly against her, hearing the tininess of the mechanism clicking into place. Then he raised his eyes to hers. He could see her lip trembling, the fall of her golden hair shimmering in the fading light. You are mine. I am yours. You are never alone as long as I am breathing in this world. And even when I’m not, my spirit cannot be parted from yours for long. You know it as I do. Beloved. Forever. Beyond time.

“Let’s go see Momby, baby.”

Now they were quiet in the backseat, Samuel having closed the partition, giving them solitude with each other. Duncan glanced down at his watch--it was just after 8, and they’d been driving for awhile, maybe 20 minutes, out of downtown and toward Madeline’s house. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but he ignored it, fingers clenching around Kenzie’s, trying to concentrate on the song that played low and soft: come away with me in the night, come away with me and I will write you a song...come away with me on a bus, where they can’t tempt us with their lies...he wished he could roll down the window and throw his phone away, let it fall over the bypass Samuel was crossing, let it disappear into thin air. I don’t care about anything and I can’t talk to anyone and I don’t want to see anybody but you and Madeline, he thought, and knew she could hear, knew she was listening as she dipped her head against his chest, warm and soft and smelling of rose and vetiver. Her thumb trailed across his palm, and where they touched she seemed to be weaving sigils of gold into his skin. I can’t help it--my heart fucking aches. I want to bury my face in your hair baby my sweet baby and cry until I can’t breathe. Cry until the tears dry up and I don’t have any left, I love you just you and you only and you are my constant comfort, my only One, what would I do without you, what would I do…

You don’t have to wonder, my Prince. I’m here. You found me. You’re safe in my arms.

Duncan couldn’t look at her--he was too close to tears again. He looked down at the bracelet on her wrist instead, fingers trailing over the gold and the glimmering diamonds, then at his, its gold steady, shining. I’ll lose the key on purpose, he thought to her. I’ll never take it off. Never. Kenzie sighed against him, and he felt the golden mixture of contentment and sadness in her--the sadness was for him, empathetic and overwhelming to him. What I feel from her is so extraordinary and so staggering in its loveliness. To feel her love for me this way is beyond all my dreams. To know its truth this way is indescribable.

And I want to walk with you on a cloudy day, in fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high, so won’t you try to come, come away with me

“I won’t let anyone take mine off me but you,” she whispered up to him, and finally he felt like smiling. “Only you, baby.” His ear had dipped down to listen to her, and her little mouth pressed against his stubbled cheek. Duncan closed his eyes, pushing the image of Claire Underwood’s expression when she told him to ask his mother where he came from out of his mind--pushing away the image of his mother walking away from him as he stood near the elevator in his uncle’s huge house (but he’s not really my uncle, is he), leaving him to the coldness of his realization, forgotten. Just be here with Kenzie right now. Forget everything else. Duncan lost himself in the drift of her scent, her softness, the golden touch of her mind--he didn’t realize the BMW had stopped, pulled up in front of a lovely brick Cape Cod-style house, warm with light from within spilling onto hydrangea bushes under the windows.

“Here we are, baby, come on,” and Kenzie was pulling him softly out of the backseat. He stood on the sidewalk, feeling dizzy; Kenzie was gripping the duffel in her hands, and he shook his head, taking it from her. She smiled at him; a smile tinged with worry. She leaned down to speak to Samuel, but Duncan felt like he was underwater, like he couldn’t hear--he gazed at Madeline’s house, still feeling dazed, as Samuel drove away and Kenzie gripped his hand again.

“Come on, baby, come on,” and she was pulling him to Madeline’s wooden front door, rapping on it insistently before digging in her satchel for her keys. Duncan turned to look out at the fading light--the sun still hadn’t quite set, and the world seemed to be bathed in a deceptively lovely glow, the quietness of the surrounding houses serene. He felt untethered from reality for a moment; he freed a hand from the duffel’s strap to twist his fingers around Kenzie’s hair, against her back. Touching her brought immediate relief; brought him back to solid ground. Kenzie was still fumbling for her keys when the door came open--Madeline stood there, her clean linen and dark wine scent wafting out toward where he and her daughter stood on her stoop. Her glasses had dark purple frames today, and she wore a black camisole top with a black cardigan pushed up around her elbows, a long silvery necklace with a jade stone dangling down her torso, her feet bare below baggy, worn denim jeans folded up at her ankles. She pursed her lips at them, not unkindly--then she shifted her gaze intently onto him, lifted her hands to him from her scant height (she seems even smaller than Kenzie somehow, though I think they’re about the same height--like mother, like daughter, ridiculously tiny) and gestured to him, dipping her fingers out and then back towards her body.

“Come here, Duncan. Come here.”

Duncan’s eyes went misty again--Kenzie was taking the duffel back from him and he was stepping into Madeline Stone’s deeply, instantly comforting embrace, stepping into the cool cocoon of her house, out of the balmy summer evening. He had to hunch to reach her--Madeline lifted up to him, and the feeling of her was instantly soothing. Like mother, like daughter.

“Now, now.” Her voice was against his hair. “My future son-in-law. What in the world. You look like you saw your own ghost.”

Duncan fought the urge to shudder against her. How wonderful, Kenzie, to have Madeline hugs all your life. He could smell warm kitchen smells wafting towards where they stood--spices and the savoriness of chicken, pepper, garlic--Kenzie food, he realized, and his stomach rumbled, and he realized he was starving.

Madeline pulled away from him when he didn’t speak, looking up into his face again, pursing her lips, concern flitting behind her glasses. Kenzie stood on the stoop behind him, and he saw Madeline glance into her daughter’s eyes, knew she saw the worry there.

“I’m going to make you a very strong long island iced tea,” Madeline said, matter-of-factly. “And then we’re all going to sit on the deck and eat dinner. And you’re going to tell me everything. Kenzie, take that into the bedroom, okay? Show Duncan.”

Madeline stepped away from them, past a staircase near the entrance, through a living room with an oak-framed fireplace (Duncan could see the glint of Madeline’s Pulitzer on the wall), into another room he assumed must be the kitchen, where the wonderful smells were coming from. Kenzie moved past him, setting the bag down again to unbuckle her sandals and leave them on a mat by the door. Duncan leaned down to slide off his Wyatt boots, mimicking her. He stood there in Madeline’s front doorway, still feeling dazed. “Come on, baby, this way,” Kenzie said, pushing him toward the stairs, closing the door. She gripped his hand and he felt the gold bracelets on their wrists clink against each other, comfortingly--Duncan grabbed the duffel as she led him up the steps, past the first doorway (a bathroom), to one in the middle of a hall, this door shut.

Kenzie pushed it open--the interior was a sensibly furnished guest room. On the walls were several prints of Klimt paintings; Duncan was struck by them instantly, amazed that they were all from Klimt’s well-known “golden” period, including Pallas Athene (women in gold, high on Olympus, he thought again, these Stone women), reminding him of his own Athena in the penthouse living room, her head bent, her expression all-knowing. He noticed one was The Kiss; it was right over the headboard of the bed. The duvet was velvety burgundy, and a plush Kermit the Frog toy was nestled between the pillows.

“This room used to be mine after we moved here when I was in middle school, but Momby made it into a spare room when I left for Georgetown. This Kermie is mine,” Kenzie said, throwing the duffel onto the bed and grabbing onto the toy with both hands . “My Abadaba got him for me when I was a baby. My grandma, I mean. She passed away two years ago.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Duncan watched her in the dim light--there was a part of him that knew that though the memory of her grandmother was sad for her, Kenzie was talking mostly to distract him, and he felt a wave of aching affection for her.

“She was wonderful. She was a lot more structured than Momby in some ways. She was a singer--she used to sing this funny song in nightclubs called Abadaba Honeymoon, it was about monkeys singing in trees. So I called her Abadaba. I always did. She would have loved you.”

Kenzie came up to him with the Kermit still clutched in her arms, and Duncan had a vision of her as a little girl, dragging one of the toy’s arms through the mud, having tea parties with it, falling asleep with it clutched against her at night. He could see one of Kermit’s eyes was beginning to unravel from its socket, and its legs and arms were fraying. Kenzie went up on her tip-toes and kissed him--Duncan brought his hands around her cheeks, holding her against him for a moment, loving the feeling of her little dress pressed to him, drifting on the edge of laughter, the pleasant energy in her mother’s house, and more tears, still feeling lost inside his emotions.

Kenzie leaned the Kermit doll’s face up to Duncan for a moment and pressed it on his cheek, pursing her lips and making a kissing sound. “There. All better. Momby used to do that when I was sad. There. All better. Worry to the wind, she would say. My Abadaba used to say that, too.” She turned to a wicker chair in the corner, a woven checkered blanket draped over it, and put the Kermit doll there carefully. Duncan felt unable to speak, unable to think, unable to do anything but stand and watch her. I wish I could forget myself entirely and just get lost in her. Just dissolve into her and become a part of her. I love everything about her. Her hands and her lips and her cheeks, her hair, her wonderful eyes with her beautiful soul whirling inside them, the little laughs she lets out and her little teeth, her bare feet, her curvy hips under my hands. How thoughtful she is, how kind, how sensitive, her memories, her dreams. She’s an angel and I don’t deserve her.

Kenzie was looking at him, her eyes clouded again. He dipped his head away from her.

“You do, though, baby,” and her voice shivered. She’d heard him. “You are the person I love most in the world. In all of the Milky Way. In all of the universe. You do deserve me. You’re my beloved. You are exalted in my eyes.”

The last part came out of her with strange conviction; where have we heard that before? He wondered again. When was the first time I heard you say that to me? It’s so odd. I don’t remember, and yet I feel like I’ve never not heard it from you. As though you’ve said it to me a thousand times.

Kenzie broke the spell, reaching for him, pulling him out the door, back down the stairs. She led him through the living room he’d glimpsed by the front door, and his eyes fell on a photo on the wall--Kenzie smiling and walking down a ramp in her graduation gown and cap, her hands lifting up in triumph. I want more pictures of her at home, he thought. One in every room. I need one on my desk. He remembered the photograph of him and Annette that had sparked the realization in him after Claire Underwood’s question, and felt bitterness seep into the back of his throat, his psyche threatening to delve down into melancholy again, but then Kenzie was pulling him into Madeline’s bright, warm kitchen, and he could see Madeline’s back retreating through a screen door in the far corner, onto a deck with a view of the hills behind the house. There were a few bowls on the small table in the corner, and Kenzie let go of his hand to grip one--it had mashed sweet potatoes in it. There was a tray of the promised long island iced teas--three of them, in fact, in huge tumblers, shivering with round ice cubes. Duncan gripped it and followed Kenzie out onto the deck. The sun had finally faded past the horizon and Madeline had put The Carpenters on low, Karen emanating from a little stereo on the edge of the wooden railing that surrounded the deck. And when the evening comes, we smile, so much of life ahead, we’ll find a place where there’s room to grow, and yes, we’ve just begun…

Madeline had made them baked chicken with mushrooms--a dinner Kenzie was obviously trying to contain her excitement over--and she’d already begun delving it out onto thick paper plates at a glass deck table. Duncan pulled one of the metal-framed deck chairs out for Kenzie as she set the sweet potatoes down. “Thanks, baby,” she murmured, dipping up to kiss him. He noticed Madeline’s eyes skirt over them, glancing at her shyly, self-consciously, as Kenzie broke away from him and sat as he pushed her chair in.

“I’m not much for the internet, but even I’ve heard about how crazy everyone is online about you two lately,” Madeline said, passing one of the plates to Duncan, who nodded at her gratefully. She dished out their tall drinks next, holding hers aloft so they could toast each other. “I think I’m gonna start selling Kenzie’s autographs for extra cash.”

“Momby,” Kenzie whined, taking a sip of her drink. She coughed a little. “Dammit, Momby, how much vodka is in this?”

“It’s mostly vodka,” Madeline replied, spooning sweet potatoes onto her plates and pushing the bowl towards her daughter. Duncan took a long drink from his tumbler. “Cheers to that,” he murmured. Fine by me. Thanks Madeline.

“So,” and Madeline collapsed into her chair. There were fireflies out in the yard, Duncan could see them winking in the dim fairy lights that lined Madeline’s wooden deck. Kenzie was already digging into her chicken enthusiastically with a fork, staring between the food and Duncan’s face, as if sheepish to be so into her dinner when his day had been so difficult. He glanced at her, smiling, baby, I’m okay, then picked up his fork as well, but not before taking another long gulp of the mostly-vodka-with-a-little-iced-tea drink Madeline had made for him. The chicken was delicious--savory and spicy, and it warmed him to the center of his being, calming his nerves again, dispersing the dizziness in his mind.

“Madeline, this is excellent,” he said, looking up at her.

“Of course it fucking is, baby,” she replied, popping the straw in her drink into her mouth. He laughed a little at that, nodding. Madeline fucking Stone. One of a kind.

“One of you is gonna tell me what happened today, after you’ve had something to eat.” Madeline forked sweet potatoes into her mouth after this statement, with finality. “At least you don’t look white as a fucking sheet anymore, Duncan, sweetpea.”

“What are you going to wear to the Gala tomorrow, Momby?” Kenzie asked, her tawny hair falling over her shoulder, popping mushrooms into her mouth.

“Nobody is gonna give a shit what I’m wearing, dearest daughter of mine,” Madeline replied, her eyes still on Duncan. He could feel the discerning, minute intelligence in her gaze. What did Annette do this time, she seemed to be wondering. “I have some old Calvin Klein stuff, maybe one of those.”

“Momby, there’s a theme, you have to dress according to the theme.”

“I can just slap a gold scarf on or something, honey, everyone’s going to be looking at you two anyway.”

Kenzie blushed and fell silent. She knows Madeline’s right. Karen was singing a different song now, her clear voice ringing out into the warm night. And the only explanation I can find, is the love that I’ve found, ever since you’ve been around...your love’s put me at the top of the world…

Duncan had devoured most of his chicken now, sitting back in the metal chair. He realized he was utterly exhausted--the anguish of this day had pressed on him like an anvil at his back, and the mere idea of the Gala tomorrow sent sharp spikes of anxiety into his mind. I don’t fucking want to see Annette. Not at all. I don’t think I can talk to her right now. I don’t think I can talk to her for awhile. I don’t...I need time. He caught Madeline’s eye again, took another long gulp of the vodka, and then he spoke.

“I went to see Claire Underwood today. I had a meeting with the President--an unsanctioned one. She had agreed to speak with me, and I thought...I thought I could build some kind of bridge between her and Shepherd Unlimited. Madeline--you know. You know I want to change the company. But I didn’t have a chance to be clear with Claire about that before she told me something. Something that she knew would hurt me...something to get at Annette.”

“She told you that you were adopted.”

Duncan gazed at Madeline in shock. “You knew that?”

“No, honey. No, I didn’t know. I suspected it, though. One day Annette’s wandering around in the world, not looking remotely pregnant, and the next day there you are, as if you sprang fully-formed from her head, like Athena popping out of Zeus. I had my suspicions for awhile, yes, but it’s not like Annette and I were on speaking terms, dear. It was just a hunch.”

Duncan was quiet at that--his mind ached again. Fuck, Duncan. Don’t jump down people’s throats. The only person who is at fault for not telling you is Annette. She’s your mother--at least, that’s what she always told you. It was her responsibility alone.

“I’m sorry, Madeline.”

Kenzie reached for his hand, and Duncan grasped it, gratefully, his breath coming out in a ragged gasp again. He drank at the vodka, drank it down to the bottom. Madeline stood up, holding a finger up. Hang on. She gripped his empty glass and disappeared into the kitchen. Kenzie leaned her head down to him, speaking softly.

“Baby, are you okay? Do you not wanna talk about it anymore?”

“No, Kenzie. It’s okay. I do want to talk about it. It’s--I think it’s the only thing that’s going to make me actually feel better.”

Kenzie nodded to him, eyes falling back onto her plate. Kenzie, I love you. I love how you’re always thinking about how I feel. I love you. If I didn’t have you right now, I don’t know what the fuck I would do. Thank you for this. This is helping so much. I feel so much better already. I really do. Her eyes came back up into his as she heard him, and she smiled, biting her lip a little, kindling his desire, despite his melancholy. My little moonbeam. He squeezed her hand as Madeline came back onto the deck with a fresh drink for him.

“This one is vodka with a dash of seltzer. And I put a lemon in there for you.” She held another in her other hand, even though her first was only half-drunk. Duncan grinned at her as she fell back into her seat. The vodka was starting to settle into him and the events of today were starting to seem far away, dull, the bitterness melting.

“Duncan, I don’t know if this is going to actually comfort you, but Annette does love you.”

“If she loves me so much why didn’t she fucking tell me? I’m 30 years old. She had time.”

“If you want me to explain Annette Shepherd’s psyche, sweetpea, I’m afraid there’s no chance I can help you with that. No one the world over has ever been able to crack that rock-hard outward shell of hers. She’s horribly stubborn. She’s cold as a witch’s tit in Dante’s ninth circle of Hell. She can be a real cunt. But she loves you. Maybe in her eyes, keeping it from you was akin to love. Maybe she thought you’d be happier not knowing.”

“I might have been.” The vodka crashed against him. He moved in his seat, leaning closer to Kenzie, and she reached her little hand out under the table, settling it onto his thigh. He sighed at the feeling of her; gold waves. I love you, Dunny, she was thinking. I can’t wait to hold you close, whisper sweetness into your ear, feel you against me in the dark. I’ll soothe you, my beloved. I’ll soothe you so entirely. You know how I can soothe you.

“So, then, if you can’t necessarily empathize with her reasoning, you can at least understand it.”

“I…” Duncan dipped his hand under his chin, ran his fingers along his bottom lip, trying to dampen Kenzie’s thrall on his mind, enough to concentrate on what Madeline was saying. It wasn’t easy--Kenzie’s wave was like a heady drug he longed to get lost inside of. “I suppose so.”

Madeline seemed to notice the energy that was building between the two of them, even if there was no possibility of her knowing the true intensity of it. Her eyes were skirting over her glasses between Kenzie’s bright eyes focused on him and his nervous expression between the two of them. Yes, it’s true, Madeline, your daughter and I can read each other’s thoughts and anticipate each other’s needs, he imagined saying to her. Get a fucking load of that. A lot has happened in the past two weeks, a lot more than I could ever find words for. I guess I should be considering the big picture, honestly. Finding out I’m adopted is on the lower end of unbelievable things that have happened to me lately.

But no. I’m fucking devastated.

“I’m not a Shepherd, Madeline.”

“You should thank your lucky stars for that, sweetpea. The genes there are all fucked up. Generations of inbreeding in aristocratic families.” Madeline said all of this so drily Duncan couldn’t help but snort with laughter.

“Momby.” Kenzie rolled her eyes at her mother, clenched her teeth.

“I’m serious, though. You don’t want to be a Shepherd, Duncan. Not really. You want the best of what being a Shepherd could potentially be. The resources of the Shepherd name. And they are as good as guaranteed to be yours already. Imagine what you can do with that company, sweetpea. Imagine. Imagine how many people you can help. Imagine the joy you can spread. You don’t need to be a Shepherd by blood. You just need to be a Shepherd on paper. And you are.”

“That reminds me. I need to ask you for something. A very large favor.”

“Sweetie,” Madeline downed the rest of her first drink and pulled her second toward her. “With that face I’d probably sign my house over to you if you asked me really nicely.”

“I’d like to officially ask you to be on the Shepherd Unlimited board of directors. I asked Kenzie already--” he glanced at her, and Kenzie smiled at him, then looked at her mother.

“I said yes, Momby. I think I’m going to need to resign from the Post eventually to do it. But I want to do it. And I want you to do it with us. And so does Duncan.”

“Resign?”

“I think so, Momby. I think--I think it’s time for me to write my book. And I feel like this is the right thing to do. We need your help.”

Madeline sighed deeply. It was not an angry sigh; it wasn’t even annoyed. It was as though she was closing one door, and when the sigh ended, opening another one. It was as though she was letting go of her need to worry over Kenzie--letting go of her apprehension, and falling into the realization that Duncan would indeed be person who would love her daughter with complete devotion. And I fucking will, Madeline. I swear I fucking will. Every fucking day. And on the days I mess up, I’ll do whatever I can to make up for it the next day. There will never come a day when I won’t try to give Kenzie everything she has ever wanted. There is no joy for me now that doesn’t anticipate and stem from her joy.

“You got it, kids.”

“Momby! Yes! Fuck yes!” Kenzie lept out of her chair, running around to her mother, throwing her arms round Madeline’s neck, burying her face in the crook of her mother’s hair. Madeline closed her eyes, but Duncan could see her smile. She opened them as Kenzie continued to clutch her, and they looked at each other--she nodded to him a little, and Duncan felt like he understood. Hey you. You over there. I love you too. I’m doing this for you, too. He felt the drift of tears float into his cheeks again. Not right now. Later, when Kenzie’s holding you in the dark, you know that’s when you will. And she won’t mind. Your sweet Kenzie with the golden touch will hold you and let you cry. She always will.

“Let’s smoke a bowl.”

Madeline disentangled herself from Kenzie’s tight embrace and her daughter (Kenz, angel baby) helped her out of the deck chair. She disappeared into the house again and Kenzie slid around to Duncan, leaning down to his cheek, her lips trailing along the line of his stubble. The revelations of the day felt very far away now, and Duncan felt hazy with tiredness, drunk on Madeline’s strong cocktails, and full of aching desire for Kenzie--Kenzie, from whom all goodness flows.

“Oh god, baby. That feels so good. Come here.” He pulled her down into his lap, anxious to be closer to her. He thought of that first night on the balcony--that sensation that they were touching before they had even truly touched, that vibrating energy between them, heavy and intensely charged. To touch you, my love, to really touch you, to be able to touch you always, I can’t describe how beautiful that is. I am more than blessed. To be chosen by you is beyond all beauty I’ve ever experienced.

“Do you feel better, baby,” Kenzie whispered against his lips, and he dipped them up to her mouth, insistent, nodding, the scent of roses and geraniums and her sweet skin in his nose.

“Uh huh. Much better. Kiss me, angel, please baby, please.” Kenzie sat with both her legs dipped over his thigh, stretching her arms out around his neck (Duncan felt the cool edge of the gold bracelet on his skin there, glanced down at his own now against her waist, his heart twinging), her eyes teasing him (dark green, shining gold), then she was tasting him deeply, her hair falling down against his cheeks, and Duncan suddenly wanted her alone, wanted the comfort of her body pressed against his, naked and so soft and so light under his fingers, arching into his touch. Fuck. I missed you so much today, angel. When I realized--when I knew Annette wasn’t my real mother--all I wanted was to feel you in my arms. Because you are my true family. My only beloved. And nothing else matters as long as you’re beside me.

I always will be, Duncan. You and me, baby.

Madeline was coming back and Kenzie broke away from him, her cheeks flushed, both of them breathing harshly. Madeline gazed over at them lazily, a pink and purple blown-glass smoking bowl gripped between two fingers, a BIC lighter in the other.

“Don’t let me break up the mood, Kenzie Lou,” she murmured facetiously. Kenzie blushed up at her mother, taking the bowl as Madeline handed it down to her. She leaned the mouthpiece toward Duncan’s lips and he pressed them into it, breathing in as she lit the bowl. She pulled it away as he breathed out, breathing in herself from the still-lit embers, then leaned down to kiss him again, blowing out into his mouth as she did. There. Fuck the world, baby. Just me and you. Then, Kenzie handed the bowl back to her mother, who’d already sat back down. Madeline lit it again and breathed deeply.

“Thank you for dinner, Madeline,” Duncan said, his mind an ocean shoreline now, the tide drifting in and out. He pulled on Kenzie’s waist, clutching her closer to him, and she dipped her face down into his neck, her arms still around his shoulders. On the day that you were born the angels got together, Karen sang, and decided to create a dream come true...Kenzie was singing along softly into his ear, and Duncan shivered, pressing down against her lips. “So they sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold,” that’s you he thought, hand drifting at her spine, “and starlight in your eyes of blue--”

And that’s you, baby, he felt her push into him, against his thought to her. That’s your eyes.

“You just owe me another night out on the town, sweetpea.” Madeline puffed at the bowl again, gazing up at where the moon had risen--it was gigantic and glowing, corn-yellow in the balmy night. “You can make it my first official work expense as your employee.”

“The first of many,” Duncan replied, “yes, ma’am.”

They all lingered there for awhile, not speaking, listening to the peepers and watching the fireflies drift out on the grass. Duncan closed his eyes, vodka and weed crashing between his temples, Kenzie’s softness in the little dress with golden flowers in his arms, her fingers twining through his hair at the back of his head. Eventually, Madeline set the bowl down and drained the rest of her cocktail, standing, wobbling a little. Kenzie went to move off his lap to help her, but Madeline shook her head.

“Nope. I’m good, sweetpea. I’m going to bed. You two are gonna do the dishes for me. But you can take your time.” Madeline came over to them and leaned down to Kenzie’s face, kissing her cheek--Kenzie kissed her in return. “Love to you the moon and back, Momby.”

“Love you to the moon and back, my Kenzie Lou.”

Then, Madeline stepped away from her and leaned down to Duncan, pressing her lips to the stubble on his face. Duncan felt his eyes flutter closed. His heart clenched, his breath catching. In that moment, he thought, Madeline loves me as a mother loves a child. And I love her as a son loves a mother. And I’m not alone. I have them, don’t I. I have my darling Kenzie, an angel on earth, and her bold, bright mother, who sees me as a son already, and I am very fortunate indeed. I am blessed among all men.

Madeline’s warm hand drifted down to his cheek for a moment, then dipped under his chin, thumb and forefinger pressing there, angling him toward her gently, and his eyes lifted up to hers. He could feel Kenzie looking between them from where her face rested in the dip of his collarbone.

“Duncan, sweetpea. Never forget how much you are loved. We love you. Okay?”

Duncan felt the tears gather immediately at the corner of his vision. For a moment he couldn’t speak--his breath shook. Kenzie’s fingers tightened in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Okay.”

Then Madeline gave him a little nod. “Good night, my moon babies,” she called over her shoulder, turning away from them, and disappeared inside, sliding the deck door shut behind her.

Kenzie lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “Dunny.”

“Yes, Kenzie Lou?”

“I love you.”

“As I love you.”

“Tomorrow, we’ll be together all day. We’ll have breakfast together and we’ll go see Morgan and Claire together, we’ll get dressed for the Gala together. Nobody can bother us, because we’ll be together. I won’t let them bother you. Anyone you don’t want to talk to, we’ll ignore them. Annette or your uncle. Anybody. Everyone. I’ll tell them to fuck off. I’ll throw a fuckinggg drink on them.” Kenzie slurred her words just a little--the weed was beginning to settle down into her, and the gold of her that fell against him in a tide felt more erratic, drawn-out, high. Duncan smiled against her. That’s right baby. You and me. Fuck them.

“I won’t fucking let anyone bother you either, baby. I can’t wait to see your dress, I’m fucking dying to see it. I’ll be thinking of you the whole time, I’ll just be thinking of later, thinking of you touching me, finally releasing me--” and at this he dipped his mouth down to the space under her ear and she was pressing her little breasts into his shirt, her hands flitting against his neck, her breath gasping as her mouth lifted up toward the moon, and he thought when you’ll finally slide that ring off my cock, hovering on the edge of hardness for hours and hours for you, when I’ll slide that plug out of your tight little ass and fuck you there, fuck you where you’ve been aching for me, I’ll be thinking of you the whole time, Kenzie, thinking of us alone together, the only thing I ever really want now, you you you your body and your mouth and your eyes and you and me alone alone alone just us no one else nobody but us my dearest love your gold like honey like nectar like sweet wine better than any weed greater than any drug the headiest of all pleasure and second to no one and nothing only you angel princess baby goddess, my moonlight, my moon flower--

Kenzie was giggling into his touch now, his mouth blowing cool tickling air onto her skin teasingly and his fingers dipping into her sides and pressing into her. You’re ticklish too, huh baby, and she wailed “yes, yes, stop, I surrender!” and he gripped her as she writhed, her screeches of laughter echoing out across the back lawn, tears in his eyes even as he grinned into her hair, happiness and sadness and some other emotion he couldn’t name crashing against each other in his mind, crashing into hers, maybe it’s more than happiness, more than sorrow, maybe it’s just the feeling of us together, the rightness of it, more than anything I feel, it’s the knowledge of our destiny, the knowledge of the perfection of this moment, when I thought perfect moments couldn’t exist, and now I know I was wrong, that they can, that they do, that this is one--nestled in a day so strange, so full of anguish--one moment, fit against us, molded to us. Perfect. There are perfect things in this universe. This moment, and the knowledge of us together. These things are perfect.

Duncan let Kenzie wriggle out of his lap, knowing full well that if he wanted to trap her there he could, keeping the strength in his arms coiled, not letting the neediness in his stoned, drunk mind take over his senses. She hopped away, breathless, gathering up their empty plates and the bowl of leftover sweet potatoes, cocking her head toward the screen door to the deck, which Madeline had disappeared into awhile ago. “Help me, baby,” and Duncan stood, stacking the empty glasses on the tray, gripping the serving platter with the remainder of the chicken. He followed Kenzie inside and she set the items on the counter, going back out onto the deck, turning off the little stereo, and the only sound now was the peepers and the cat clock in the corner towards the living room, and the sound of Kenzie shutting the deck’s sliding door, the sound of her bare feet on the kitchen’s linoleum. She went to the sink and pulled down a few tupperware containers in a cupboard beside it, scooping the sweet potatoes into one while Duncan slid the remaining chicken into the other.

I love this, he thought. Doing this with you. Doing anything with you. I wish we could do things like this more. When we have the garden house, we will. We’ll get away from the city, the company, my mother, the paps. We’ll make breakfast with eggs laid by our own chickens. We’ll eat fresh tomatos and cucumbers and lettuce from our own garden. We’ll take the horses out into the field, the woods, lay in the grass and eat apples under our orchard trees. We’ll fuck in the shade and lay there together naked and no one will see us, no one will bother us, no one.

That’s lovely, baby, she drifted against him, her little head brushing against his shoulder, filling the sink with hot soapy water, handing him a dry towel. Keep thinking those beautiful things and dry the dishes as I hand them to you, okay?

Uh huh, Kenzie. Anything you want me to do. And I mean every day. Always. The Cartier bracelet glittered on her wrist as she dipped the bowls and silverware into the sink, scrubbing at them with a scouring brush Madeline had crooked around the faucet, her eyes glancing up at him as she handed them off to him, dark green like the forest of you, the woods of you, the infinite of you. Princess Kenzie, fairest in all the land, fairest of them all. I’ll build you a castle where only beautiful things are, a castle of green growing things, a castle for your heart to find refuge in the certainty of my love, where we can hold each other, hidden by the boughs of the trees and surrounded by flowers, flowers to cover the wall over our bed in the city, and flowers for every sill in our home, flowers for you hair, flowers we’ll fall into as I kiss you--

“Oh baby, yes, I love that, god, that’s lovely--” she sighed, her voice barely above a whisper, and she dropped the brush and the bowl she held back into the soapy water and her wet, soapy little hands came up to his cheeks and pulled him down to crush his mouth into hers, and he dropped the towel onto the counter and lifted her into his arms, lifted her onto the counter too, the better to reach her, touch her, hold her, press against her, her smell like roses, her taste spicy and sweet and her, her taste, like flowers dipped in honey. Duncan felt the memory of today’s sorrow once more, knew there were things he now knew about himself that he couldn’t forget again, things he didn’t know about himself that he knew he needed to know, not just about his mother--whoever she was--but about him, about Kenzie, about how he knew they knew each other and knew they were meant to always be together, and why that was, how that had come to be, how they had found each other again. But all of that, his confusion, his despondency, his desire to know, was dissolving against her, and he felt the perfection he’d felt on the deck extending, stretching on into her mouth, perfect, baby, you’re perfect to me, you’re like a secret place I discover again and again, the secret safe place where my heart will always be able to rest and kindle its greatest emotions and that is beyond all words, all language, all description.

“Duncan, let’s wait until tomorrow,” Kenzie whispered, hands falling down to the sides of his neck, coaxing a moan from his throat, his hands gripping her knees, sliding up her bare thighs under the little dress, her warm, trembling skin sending an electric current through him, almost painful. “Let’s wait to fuck until tomorrow night, and we’ll be so fucking crazy for each other by then, we’ll be so needy for each other by then, baby, Dunny, god, I’m dying just thinking about waiting already, dying to feel your big cock fucking me--”

“Fuck, Kenzie, I don’t know if I can wait that long, baby, I want you now--”

“You have to. You have to wait. You have to do as I say, Duncan. You have to obey me.” She was giving him a hellishly lovely smile, one that set him absolutely on fire in this moment, her eyes whirling jade with flecks of gold, her hair in a cascade of silk over her shoulder--Fuck, Mackenzie Stone, you’ll be the death of me. Fucking marry me. Fuck me and choke me and tell me I belong to you. Because I do, I really do, I fucking do baby, I’m yours utterly, entirely. He leaned into her mouth longingly again as she kissed him, her arms drifting up his dark sleeves, her fingers brushing against his chin, holding him on her lips. Then she pushed him back--gently, but Dunan knew he needed to obey, needed to follow her, and he stepped backwards, eyes fluttering closed. He realized how tired he was in that moment, how the day’s revelations and the vodka and the weed and his desire for her were now combining to insist he hold her tightly and fall asleep now, sleep until today became nothing more than a memory. Kenzie slid back down to the floor, off the counter, and crooked a finger at him.

“Help me finish, baby. Then we’re gonna go to bed.”

“Uh huh, Kenzie.” He rubbed the fatigue from his eyes and yawned. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. The Gala is tomorrow. The full moon is tomorrow. I’ll long for you tomorrow, all day long, tomorrow.

Kenzie led him up the stairs after they finished the last few dishes, and they brushed their teeth quietly side by side in the little bathroom that used to be Kenzie’s when she was in high school, Duncan in a black tee shirt and gym shorts, Kenzie in his big Led Zeppelin tee that was now an integral part of her sleepwear. Duncan noticed a photo of her and Claire still there, in a bubblegum-pink frame over the toilet. Kenzie smiled at it, glancing up at him as she rinsed her toothbrush. In the photo they both wore Baskin-Robbins hats and aprons, Kenzie kissing Claire’s cheek, Claire with an expression of mock surprise, hand on Kenzie’s jaw. “Yes, I was an ice cream girl for two years,” Kenzie said to him, and Duncan let his hand drift into her hair, grinning as he scrutinized the photo.

“The prettiest ice cream girl in the world.”

“Ugh, shut up, Prince Duncan. I’d like to see you in that uniform. Give me twelve scoops and chocolate sauce and sprinkles, ice cream boy. I bet you never had a work a shitty job, huh.”

Duncan shook his head. “No, you’re right. I didn’t. But I did have to go to a shitty private school where I got my head smashed into a locker every other day for four years. I was bullied...a lot. Relentlessly. For awhile it was like it was my job to get the shit beat out of me. Two big guys in particular whose favorite insult for me was fag. Original, I know. Broke my wrist throwing me into a brick wall. One of them kicked me in the face so hard he knocked four of my teeth out, another time they punctured one of my ear drums with a pencil. God, that was the worst pain I’ve ever felt.”

“Baby. Fuck.” Kenzie’s face fell and suddenly she was pressing against him, her little nose in his shirt, her hands clutching around him. “I’m so sorry, baby. That’s so horrible. Ugh, no, no, no. I wish I had been there. I would have kicked their asses.” She turned her face up to him and he could see the tears glittering in her eyes. Duncan dipped his head so his lips brushed against her hair.

“My fearless Kenzie. I know you would have. I wish I could tell him--me, back then--how you were on your way. I wish he had known.”

“I’m here now, baby. I’ll always protect you now.”

I know you will, Kenzie. As I’ll always protect you. Nobody can hurt us now--now we have each other. Now we’re invincible. Our hearts are safe from them, shrouded in each other. Kenzie led him to the bed--Duncan switched the bathroom light off behind them, pulled the switch on the lamp beside the bed, glancing at The Kiss over it before he did (me and you)--and she pulled him down to her in the holy darkness. Duncan pressed his face into the sweet space above her breasts, kissing the shirt over her skin, his arms clutching her flush to him, and whispered “Kenzie, I love you,” and her cheek was pressing to the top of his head, her little thigh crooked up between his legs, and she was murmuring “I love you too baby, I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore...” and he knew she meant it, knew she would, knew that her golden waves of sunlight and moonbeam were his shield against all the harm of the wide world outside. And then, sleep, in her arms, in her embrace, in the warmth of her love...

And he forgot to cry--forgot that he had wanted to.

--------

The next morning Duncan woke to the sound of Madeline’s sharp tapping on the bedroom door. His head felt heavy; a small hangover from the vodka, softened by the weed. Kenzie was leaning from her position against him, same as the one they’d fallen asleep in, turning her head to the door, and he drifted up out of sleep, eyes opening to the crook of her neck, the sweet, musky smell of her. We were dreaming. But what was the dream about? We were together. The Mirror. The Mirror was in the dream. We were...but it was sliding away from him. Her dress was long and black, falling velvet...I don’t know. I can’t remember.

“Wake up, kiddos, I made pancakes. Chocolate chip and blueberry. And I spiked the coffee. Hair of the dog for a big day.”

Duncan heard Madeline’s laugh echo through the door and Kenzie shouted “Thank you Momby! We’ll be there in a minute!” and a sharp spike went through Duncan’s skull. He groaned against her, arms tightening to pull her mouth down to him.

“Did you dream, baby?” He tasted at her, the slight saltiness that had gathered on her in her sleep. I have to wait to fuck you until tonight, late, late tonight, fuck baby, how can I wait so long--Kenzie was wriggling out of his arms, her expression devious. You’re gonna really make me suffer today, aren’t you, angel baby. I can tell by the look in your eyes.

Yes. Show me how you worship me. Be good, baby. Be patient.

“I think so, but I can’t really remember.” Kenzie sat up, her golden hair in a frenzied, sleep-tangled halo around her head. I fucking love you so much, he thought, reaching for her, but she slipped away in that infuriating quickness, her little ass in its tiny pair of white lace panties kindling his morning erection (just the usual), the gold-and-diamond bracelet winking on her little wrist as her hand trailed off the bed. He lifted his hand up to his pounding head, his own gold bracelet brushing against his temple as he did; the tethers of the gold thread between us, mine extending to hers, tied together, for all of time. Thank you gods. Thank you Fates.

He had followed her downstairs to find that Madeline had indeed made them pancakes--a mountain of them, with organic butter and syrup and strawberries on the side, and strong black coffee spiked with what tasted like peppermint schnapps, which did its bit to clear his head and whisk away the hangover pressing into him. It was after 9--we slept for a long time, Duncan marveled. I could have slept for longer, honestly, something about this house is wildly comforting. I wish Kenzie and I could sleep through the Gala entirely, just forget it even exists. He couldn’t imagine speaking to Annette today; he knew as soon as she approached him he’d do his best to escape from her, despite the fact that the Gala was taking place at the Shepherd mansion as it always did. At least the house is so fucking huge it’s easy to lose people if you’re trying to. He looked up at Kenzie to see she was staring at him, her eyes knowing, glittering as she sipped at her coffee. I know you can hear me. I just can’t fucking do it, baby. I can’t talk to her right now.

It’s okay, Duncan. You won’t have to. We’ll avoid her. She’ll be busy anyway. She’ll be around other guests. We can hide from her. Kenzie pushed a forkful of chocolate chip pancake into her mouth, nodding to him. She’d left her phone downstairs last night and it was now resting on the table beside her--Duncan’s eyes glanced down at it, noticing it light up once, then again from two separate texts, one from Clairebear, the other from a number that wasn’t saved in her phone. His own phone was still in the pocket of the pants he’d left in a pile upstairs on the floor. Fuck my phone. I might as well throw it in the fucking garbage. If I’m with Kenzie there’s no one else in the world I want to fucking talk to anyway.

Madeline was in a fluffy dark navy bathrobe, wearing her purple-rimmed glasses, clutching her coffee cup in her hands, her eyes skirting back and forth between the two of them.

“It’s like you two are talking without actually saying anything, and it’s weirding me the fuck out.”

Duncan bit into his lip. We are, Madeline. He used the edge of his fork to cut off a piece of pancake, pushing it into his mouth. “These are great, Madeline. I can see where Kenzie gets her cooking skills.”

“Duncan is an incredible cook, don’t let him fool you, Momby. And he taught himself.”

“Well aren’t you two just so far up each other’s asses,” Madeline replied, smiling into her coffee cup. Kenzie rolled her eyes at her mother, making an exasperated sound in the back of her throat, going back to her plate, biting into a strawberry. Duncan snorted, trying to hold back his laughter. You have us down to a tee, Madeline. I am, indeed, so far up her ass. He snorted again as he saw Kenzie give him a look, sucking her bottom lip in. Oh my fucking god, Duncan. Then they couldn’t stop--Duncan pressed a hand over his mouth and Kenzie giggled, and then they were both laughing uncontrollably, and Madeline said “oh boy, I said it, didn’t I, I did that to myself,” and was laughing too. Tears were popping out of Kenzie’s eyes, her head falling back as she laughed into her hands, and Duncan thought fuck, I get to laugh with you every day now, fuck me, thank heaven.

Eventually they all quieted down and Kenzie looked down at her phone. “Claire says we should meet up around noon to make sure everything fits right. I guess you can finally see my dress then, baby. Oh my god, Momby, wait till you see, do you wanna see the photos Claire sent me? Duncan hasn’t seen it yet, we’ve been waiting to make it a surprise.”

“Fuck yes I want to see it,” Madeline said, leaning over to her daughter conspiratorially. Duncan heard her gasp and he felt twinge of jealousy. “Ugh, I wanna fucking see--” he said, trying to dip his head around to Kenzie’s phone, which she jerked back beyond his line of vision.

“Not yet baby, the first time for you has to be when I’m wearing it, please please please,” and Duncan whined.

“Fine. But stop rubbing it in, Madeline.”

“I sure will not stop rubbing it in, sweetpea. We don’t know each other that well yet so let me tell you something. I am the queen of rubbing it the fuck in. With salt. Duncan, it’s fucking exquisite, and you are going to shit yourself.”

Duncan gave Madeline a faux dark look, jabbing towards her with his fork, Psycho-style. She laughed at him.

“Baby, you’re so cute. We’re gonna change your name to Stone. I’m keeping you.”

“That would be my fucking honor, and we both know it.”

Kenzie was smiling between them, and the earnest happiness in her expression made Duncan want to press her against him, kiss her tenderly. But then she looked back down at her phone, and her face immediately creased with a frown.

“Kenz, what is it?”

“Um, it’s Annette.”

Duncan’s blood went cold, his good mood immediately crashing down to earth. “Oh. What the fuck does she want.”

“She’s asking if she can come by the penthouse. She says she wants to give me something.”

Duncan’s mind flashed with a spike of red-hot anger. “Spent all this time being horrible to you and now she’s trying to guilt-trip me by giving you gifts. Fuck her.”

“Duncan.”

“Kenzie, she didn’t tell me I was adopted for thirty fucking years.”

“I know, baby. I fucking understand why you’re angry, why you’re so hurt. But if she’s finally trying to be civil with me, it feels like an opportunity. Baby. We can help her understand what we want to do with the company. I mean--eventually. After some time. After you have some time.”

Duncan pressed two fingers into the bridge of his nose. Calm the fuck down, Duncan. Do not take your anger out on Kenzie, don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare. She hasn’t done anything but be loving and sympathetic and cried her eyes out for you last night. She’s the one who is ALWAYS on your side.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He could feel Madeline’s eyes between them, intent, observant. She’s watching you too, Duncan. She’s watching how you treat her daughter, and you need to pass this fucking test, today and every day from here on out. So pass the fucking test and don’t be a fuck up. “I--I can’t see her right now. But she can drop it off for you with Anchaly. Or you can, I dunno--I can go somewhere while you talk with her.”

“I’ll go downstairs and see her for a minute. After we go see Morgan and Claire, before the Gala. I’ll just go talk to her downstairs for a minute. Is that okay?”

“Yes, Kenzie. It’s okay.”

“Okay.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, Kenzie’s phone poised in her hand. Duncan. I love you. We both know she wants to use me right now to get you back on her side. But that doesn’t matter. We can go away after the Gala, baby. Let’s do it. After the Gala, let’s just leave. Let’s go to the cabin and stay there for a few days. As long as we need to. Until you feel better. Until you feel like you can talk to her. How does that sound? Let’s just go. Everyone can fuck off after today. Just you and me, baby. Just us and the stars and the trees and the lake.

Duncan was nodding at her, and he could feel Madeline’s puzzlement again at their silence, their intent stares at each other, his nodding.

“Seriously, you two are spooking me. What the fuck.”

“It’s just how we comfort each other, Momby. It’s just--it’s like meditation.”

“Not like any meditation I’ve ever fucking seen. It’s like you’re talking to each other but your mouths aren’t moving. Like fucking telepathy. You two are...it’s just...it’s very strange.”

Duncan didn’t say anything, finishing off his pancakes, bringing his coffee cup (it had a full-frontal faun with a comically large erection playing panpipes on it--nice, Madeline) to his lips. Madeline sighed at them, then seemed resigned to them not elaborating further. “What time are you picking me up with that fucking fantastic man?”

“I’m assuming you’re referring to Samuel Adebayo, my irreplaceable chauffeur.”

“That’s what I said. That fucking fantastic man.”

“The Gala starts at 8. We should be fashionably late. So we’ll pick you up at 8 sharp, how does that sound?”

“Perfect, sweetpea. Plenty of time for me to get high as a kite beforehand.”

Kenzie was rolling her eyes again, but Duncan couldn’t help but agree with Madeline internally. I don’t think I can make it through tonight sober. Between avoiding my mother and edging in a crowd of famous politicians and celebrities, it’s going to be an interesting fucking night. He felt Kenzie’s eyes on him again.

Wait until you see my dress, baby. Wait till you see your angel. He felt gold swirling around her thoughts--the gold of the gods, she thought to him. My sweet black-clad god of riches, you will behold your Persephone. Your fucking queen. And I’ll be wearing my plug for you all night too, just fucking aching for you...

Kenzie. Fuck. You’re killing me.

Thankfully Madeline had turned away from them this time to make more coffee. Kenzie stood, having finished her breakfast too, and crooked a finger at him, grinning with her little teeth. Come on. Let’s take a shower together in my shitty adolescent bathroom, baby. I’m going to make you needy for me today. You don’t get to fuck me till later, but you can look and touch, baby.

“Momby, we’re gonna go get dressed. Thank you for the pancakes.” Kenzie stepped over to her mother, kissing her cheek, then hopped over to Duncan and pulled him toward the stairs, her eyes that dark jade green, making his stomach swirl with low heat. He watched her ass bounce up the stairs ahead of him and he closed his eyes as he went after her. Fuuuuck. How the fuck am I going to make it until tonight.

Kenzie was pulling him through the guest room (The Kiss, Pallas Athene, gold waves, hey Kermit) and into the little bathroom, closing the door with a snap behind them, turning the little lock, her hair falling. The shower curtain was celestial suns and moons--Duncan assumed it must have been the same one since before Kenzie went to college--and Kenzie pushed it back, turning her back to him, clutching the hem of her tee shirt and pulling it off, yanking her panties off with one hand, letting them fall as Duncan’s eyes roved over her bare ass. Ugh, I love it. I love your body, baby, love your shoulders and your hair, the dip of your waist, your hips and the round peach of your ass, the backs of your thighs and your short little legs--he reached out before she could wriggle away and his hands fell down to the jut of her hipbones, burying his nose in the back of her hair.

“Princess,” he whispered against her. “My beautiful fucking baby.”

Kenzie leaned back into him--Duncan felt the jerk of his cock growing hard as she rubbed her ass up against his crotch through the soft fabric of the gym shorts he still wore. How how how can I wait until tonight, baby, how can I. His hand was coming down her abdomen to hover above her sex, but Kenzie grabbed his fingers and yanked them away, insistently.

“No, baby. Be good. Get in the shower with me.” You smell like flowers, baby. You’re my little fucking flower. Let me suck on your exquisite petals, Persephone. Let me take you into my mouth.

She stepped into the tub and turned the knob, yelping a little as cold water came out against her breasts and stomach. “Ugh, I forget now that not every shower is hot immediately like yours, baby,” she murmured, and Duncan was hurriedly throwing his clothes off, stepping in beside her. Not every shower’s as big as mine either, huh, Kenz, he thought to her, his body immediately pressing against hers as he gripped her at the hips and turned her into him in the small basin, the shower head now falling against the back of her hair. His hardening erection was pressing to her stomach now. Duncan hesitated for a moment, looking down into her face turned up to him. Then, he kneeled in front of her, the bottoms of his feet pressed against the edge of the small tub, hands still holding her hips in a careful but insistent clutch.

“Can I please make you come, Princess Kenzie?”

Her eyes were backlit with that ethereal green in the artificial light of the little bathroom--the sun was facing away from the house this time of day, and only the yellow light of the bulbs over the bathroom mirror permeated the shade of their nook. The water was finally hot now, and steam began to rise around her, like some cascading spell coiling up from her, the water soaking through her blonde-dark hair, sliding in rivulets down her thighs, his mouth hovering just over the lips of her sex now. Duncan kept his eyes on her face, fingers tightening down onto the backs of her thighs, under the dip of her ass cheeks. Please say yes, I beg of you, angel. Please let me. I want the sweet scent of your clit to hover around my lips and mouth and nose all day. I want it to linger in my senses the whole time at the Gala. I want my thoughts to be intoxicated with the memory of your cunt, the desperate hope that I can worship it with my sex as I did with my mouth. I beg you to let me worship you.

Kenzie’s silence stretched, and he felt as though she had closed her mind off to him for a moment, closed herself and delved down into a secret Pandora’s box, and he ached to feel her again, a tiny whimper escaping him, his desperation rising up. Then, Kenzie’s gold surged back into him and he felt his cock jump between his legs with the force of it, felt the groan that erupted from his lips as the stare between them extended, the hot water falling against his cheeks from where he knelt before her, beholden.

Kenzie’s slender hands clutched into the back of his head, down into the wetness of his curls, and still not speaking, only staring into him, her expression obtuse and unreadable, Kenzie brought her leg up over his shoulder, crooking her knee there, lifting her thigh open, and she forcefully, harshly, demandingly brought his face, the open supplication of his mouth, flush between the wet lips of her sex. Duncan immediately clutched her against him with all his strength, easily holding her steady, the gold bracelet on his wrist pressing against her ass, and he kept his eyes open, lifted up to her face, her chin falling back and her mouth falling open as the water rushed through her hair. I will never forget the way she looks in this moment, either, in this tiny little shower. Her face is like the face of god to me. Yes, angel, yes. This is all for you. She was sighing deeply, her sighs like long, drawn cries, and he could feel the minute shuddering in the muscles of her legs and the core of her body, and he longed to be devoured by her desires in that moment, longed to be consumed by her needs. I’m your baby, Kenzie, I belong to you, the only thing I want is to make you feel so fucking good, the only thing I want is to be yours, and to make you come, come, come--

Duncan moved his head down, flicked his tongue out, pressing it along the quivering sensitivity of the dip of skin between Kenzie’s ass and the opening of her cunt, along the cavity there and the lips of her labia, then back up into her clit, and Kenzie was crying out softly, quietly, “fuck, baby, don’t fucking do that, I can’t be quiet if you do that, I don’t want Momby to hear us--” and Duncan smiled into her clit, swirling his tongue around the bud, loving the feeling of her thighs knocking against his hair, her involuntary convulsing, her hands gripping his hair with an intensifying low pain, pulling. He pressed his open mouth in a wanton kiss to the very head of where the lips of her began, then began to suck lightly, suck downwards over the mound of nerves, dipping his tongue back and forth, and each time it pressed into her Kenzie’s hips bucked into his face, her thighs beginning to tremble in a steady cascade now, and he dug his hands so tightly into her that he could feel his short nails now dipping half-moons into her soft skin.

Fucking come, moonlight. This is just the first time today. I’m gonna make you come later, even harder than I make you come right now. Fucking come against my mouth. I dream all day about your sweet little cunt, Kenzie. My daydreams are the feeling and the scent of you here, my daydreams are buried in your hair, the softness of your skin, the radiant glow of your eyes. He raised his head for a moment, away from his ardent sucking, and stared at her. He knew what she was thinking now, knew how she wanted to force him against her, felt the coiling desire to control him swirling in the center of her, an image rather than a thought, and he waited for another beat, waited for her to do what he longed for, what he knew she wanted to do. Kenzie brought her fingers away from their harsh grip at his hair; one of her little graceful hands clutched him under his stubbled chin as he gripped her thigh and the back of her ass, holding his face steady as he held her body in place, and then her other hand came up, hovered, then came against his cheek with a hard slap, the diamonds on her wrist winking, his mouth hanging open with the force of it, breath falling out in a harsh gasp, eyes fluttering closed, involuntary.

Kenzie hesitated for a moment, then brought the backside of the same hand down over the other cheek, not quite as hard as the first, but the sound of it still loud and sharp. The low pain of her attentions sent a dagger of hot need through his body and into his groin, crackling energy sliding through his mind. I bow to you, goddess. Kenzie. My beloved. Queen. I am beholden to your desires. Fucking yes. I want you to command me to suck on you. I fucking love you.

“Put your mouth back where it belongs, baby,” she said, and she lifted her chin, the hot water sliding down the curve of her breasts, between her collarbones down the flatness of her stomach, and he saw the glimmering wonder of her divinity again, and felt staggered inside it, knowing there was nothing else in the world he wanted inside this moment as much as he wanted what to do she told him to do.

Duncan pressed his open mouth against her again in a complete supplication that sent warm waves of her golden tide down his throat, the heady scent and taste of her making his cock jump into his belly again, and her hand was coming down to the nape of his neck, achingly gently now, pressing him into her, moving her hips so she was almost hovering over him now, almost as if she were floating, her body heavy against him but also impossibly light, and his eyes fluttered closed--he couldn’t help it, overwhelmed as he felt by her in this moment, extending forwards and backwards until he felt as though he no longer knew where he was, and didn’t care to know, only that she was here, impossibly close, and she was going to fucking come for him very soon, and with his mouth utterly pressed to her he felt the shudder build in her body and heard her needling cry, opened his eyes, holding his mouth carefully still and working his tongue into her as she shook, watching her head dip down, cock to the side in an achingly lovely moment of complete abandon, her eyes half-lidded and lit by a haloed glow, her mouth wide, her little teeth peeking from her lips, her breasts shuddering with tiny shivering adulations, her arms shaking, one hand falling across his stubbled cheek almost absently, needy to feel him there (I love it love the feeling of it love you fucking love you I fucking love you your mouth is all I ever want now your mouth and your adoration and you bowing to me, bow to me bow to me my fucking gorgeous impossibly beautiful prince oh fucking fuck fucking fuck me fuckkkk), her thoughts the most glorious poem inside her orgasm. His mouth stayed against her, loathe to leave the sweetness of her, as her shudders dissipated, floated down, dissolved slowly. Kenzie tried to uncrook her knee from where her thigh still laid over his shoulder, and Duncan gripped her hard, whining between the lips of her, trying to keep her there.

“Baby, be good, let me down,” she was laughing at him, hands soft on his cheeks, her diamond Cartier bracelet glinting in the corner of his eyes as she pushed his face back, and he pouted at her, pouted up into her radiant face, goggled by its loveliness, awash in the sweet afterglow of her orgasm. “Later, I’m gonna let you fuck me so hard. Be good today, okay? Be my sweet baby.” He sighed into her stomach at that, nodding, squinting his eyes against the heat of the water spitting down, then leaned back, licking his lips (god I love the taste of her, I don’t know any words for it, it’s like the sweetest cake with the headiest wine, the absolute tip of an orgasm, the absolute depth of the deep ocean, it’s like staring into the abyss with white stars whirling, it’s her, it’s fucking her, it’s the taste of heaven), and hoisted himself up, aware that his erection was achingly hard now between his legs, aware that she wasn’t going to touch him, and he wanted to moan with terrible frustration. Kenzie was leaning away from him, squeezing conditioner into her palm, fingering it swiftly through her tawny hair, and he could see her mouth still hovering open as she stared at him, could see the flow of her thoughts even though she wasn’t touching him. I love your big fucking cock baby, later I’m going to fucking gag on it for you, but only if you’re good, only if you’re patient, and he groaned, dipping his face down to press against her cheek, the heat of the water making his cock shiver as she leaned away from him so only their faces were touching. His fingers came up to press into her breasts, around her nipples, and then he was moving his hands away because the feeling of her was simply too intense for him now, too much to bear, and he moved back and he said “Fuck, Kenzie baby…”

Kenzie closed her eyes, rinsing her hair under the shower head, hands flitting through its dark gold, then she was pressing a finger up into the dip of his throat, right below his adam’s apple, curling her hand up to grasp his throat, gently but insistently.

“Don’t you dare come, Duncan Shepherd. You have to wait.”

Duncan’s mouth snapped closed at her commanding tone, the gold flecks that suddenly twirled in her gaze, and his hands fell away from where they had been hovering near his cock, his aching need to touch himself laid bare to her through their minds’ touch.

“Ung, Kenzie--”

“No whining. Finish up and get ready with me. It’s time for you to see my dress.”

Kenzie stepped out of the shower at that, and Duncan tried to dial back the wave he felt falling down his body, into his groin. You can’t. Kenzie said you have to wait. He forced himself to think of an open wound festering, the smell of rotting garbage, anything to ease him down from the edge of release. Slowly he began to feel the pressure in his cock easing, and he gasped into the water, sucking some into his mouth, swirling it under his tongue, desperate to ease the whirling need the taste of her sex kindled up in him. The taste of her in my mouth like this is fucking overwhelming, it’s like fucking torture. I could come over and over and never want it to end in a thousand years, tasting her on my lips this way. Duncan resigned himself to patience (you must, you have to, it’s what she fucking wants so it must be done) and finished his shower alone, despite the terrible ache of his desire for her, her gold still lingering like a patina around his body.

-------

Kenzie was wearing the button-down mustard-colored yellow lace dress she’d packed hurriedly in his duffel the night before, the little black heeled sandals on her feet, the Tiffany moon at her throat, her long hair still drying in soft waves around her shoulders, Duncan in one of his typical black Givenchy Oxfords, the fabric of it thankfully a cool cotton (somehow I packed something sensible, despite the erratic nature of my mental state last night, he thought) to combat the heat of the June day, already overwhelming, his round black-framed Yves sunglasses over his eyes, her little gold-framed round sunglasses over hers as she pulled him eagerly from the BMW’s backseat at Morgan’s studio, an wildly excited grin spread across her little face. I want to fucking kiss you, angel, your sweetness is like a food I want to savor.

Duncan had made the mistake of looking at his phone on the way and low dismay kindled in the back of his mind now; Annette had attempted to call him 15 times since last night and left him a slew of texts, which ranged in tone from the outright defensive to jarringly apologetic that bordered on a kind of begging. He’d never once been privy to a message from his mother that approached this level of penitence, and it unnerved him. But he was determined to stay away from her for a few days. I can’t fucking talk to you right now, and you have to fucking accept it, Mom. He’d avoid her as well as he could tonight, and they wouldn’t talk about what Claire Underwood had told him until he and Kenzie returned from the cabin. He knew this with certainty. His mind ached with acute agony when he tried to contemplate the truth; I’m not a Shepherd, I don’t fucking know who I am; it was simply too close still, and his psyche stepped away from it as he clutched Kenzie’s hand like a lifeline.

Kenzie was dragging him up the stairs, little sounds of excitement floating down to him from her mouth, her movements elated. My dress my fucking dress my gorgeous dress wait till you see baby wait till you see, he could hear her, waves of gold crashing. Kenzie slammed her palm onto the buzzer, hopping up and down, squeezing his hand, pinching his fingers. How can I be in a bad mood when you look like this, he thought, dipping his face down to kiss her cheek. My fucking angel. Today will be beautiful because you are here and you alone are my sunlight.

Claire greeted them, cheeks flushed pink, in a long-sleeved navy midi dress with rose-colored blossoms--her face was radiantly happy too, and Duncan was struck by the glow of her cheeks, the winking shine of her gaze. Harris, he thought, surprised at the immensity of it all over her face, surprised by the obviousness of it. Harris. Kenzie fell into her arms, squealing with delight, “We’re here, we’re here!” and Claire was laughing, her grin infectious--Duncan could feel his own smile falling over his face, so overwhelming was the loveliness of these two women before him in this moment. How can I possibly be sad, in a world where my Kenzie and her dear ones exist.

“God, wait till you see them, darlings, my Kenzie Lou, Duncan--wait until you see. The paparazzi are going to actually die. You should both wear those sunglasses this evening, cuz you’re gonna be blinded by camera flashes all night.” Claire was gripping Kenzie’s little hand so she was extended between her best friend and Duncan, like they were about to play ring-around-the-rosie. Duncan let Kenzie pull him into Morgan’s studio behind them, sliding his sunglasses off his nose. It had taken awhile for his erection to go down in the shower, and he still felt the vaguely uncomfortable edge of blue balls between his legs, the memory of a release anticipated and never carried to its end, the come still trapped in his groin that demanded attention. He shifted, resigned to it, trapped inside it, knowing it would be hours and hours until he got what he wanted. My Kenzie, moaning against me, lost inside my touch, my sex, my desire for her. That’s what I fucking want. Kenzie had let go of him, rushing over to greet Morgan, looking as obtuse and polished as ever in a long black poncho that fell to the floor, lacy black gloves on her hands. He raked a hand through the wave of hair over his ear, breathing out slowly, carefully. You’re going to need to pace yourself, he scolded himself. You’ll never make it through tonight if your nerves are like this all day. If your desire is this strong. Push it down and control yourself. We have a long way to go.

“Darlings, delightful to see you looking so fresh and anticipant,” Morgan cooed. “I think I’ve truly created two of my masterpieces for you in these pieces, a triumphant, delicate mixture of verdant power and seductive celestial ecstasy. Truly I have found my muses.” Duncan was stepping towards her, Morgan extending her hand to him, which he grasped in greeting, dipping his head down to her. Kenzie hopped in place, clutching Claire still, her hair bouncing.

“Please let me see it, please please please,” she was begging, and Claire was laughing at her. Duncan smiled, his body was beginning to hum with the premonition of the moment; he knew, somehow, knew how shaken he’d be to conceive her in it, knew how it was going to shatter into his soul, and he suddenly felt like he needed to sit. He grasped the edge of a nearby counter, covered in scraps of fabric, cloth scissors, pins and measuring tapes. He could see the bits of silken gold that were scattered there, and his heart lept into his throat.

“Dearest, come with me,” Morgan cooed to him, taking his long hand in her elegant lace fingers. “Claire will accompany Mackenzie to her gown while I escort you to your guise for this splendid evening. I trust you won’t need my help to dress, so I will then leave you and ensure that your beloved is fitted like a glove.”

“No, indeed, Morgan, I think I can manage.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Kenzie, who was looking at him with wildly bright eyes, biting into her lip, fingers gripping Claire so hard they looked white. See you soon, baby. He smiled at her, his heart pounding wildly. I love you, Kenzie, I love you, then Morgan was pulling him away with a surprisingly tight grip, to a side-room in the opposite direction of where Claire was forcefully guiding Kenzie, whispering animatedly into her ear. Duncan looked ahead, turning away from them with reluctance, and felt his heart rebound again, his breath catching--the blazer Morgan had created for him was on a rolling black dress form in the center of the room, immediately drawing his eye with its cascading metallic gold on crushed black velvet, a silk Oxford underneath it with strikingly intricate gold tips. He moved towards it immediately, reaching out a hand almost involuntarily to touch it--the gold was like dripping stardust, smooth and soft, like trails of falling stars smeared across the heavens, dripping down into the emptiness of space. This is how I feel when she touches me, he thought again. I feel like she’s spreading gold all over me, all down my body, into the secret, sensitive spaces of my heart, like I can taste her in my throat and the taste is beyond any taste I’ve ever experienced, beyond exquisite, beyond all other delights. He could see that the gold tips of the collar were each an intricate cage of lace, reminding him of the bracelet Kenzie had worn that night they first met--a cage that wove around me, and brought me in forever.

“Morgan,” he breathed. “This is extraordinary.”

Morgan was grinning at him, her eyes closing behind her huge cat-eye glasses.

“My darling, I know well that it is, but thank you. You have truly inspired me--the glory of such luminous love, good heavens. As an artist, to behold such emotion is to be moved to create. I can see that at heart, you are a romantic, and that perhaps, in the past, you have been moved to conceal it for fear of exposure to the cruelty of the world. We who wear black feel the heavy idyll of life, the drama of every moment, and we feel it most acutely. In our grief, in our ennui, and yes, in love. And this love is extraordinary--for you, it has healed your soul. Therefore, you must look the part. Gold leaf was my tool, and 18 karats for the tips, a perfect compliment, I see, for the Cartier.” She glanced down at his wrist, and Duncan nodded to her.

“I leave you to it.”

With that, Morgan turned and left, shutting the door behind her. Duncan breathed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he opened them again--yes, it was still here, this miraculous coat made from gold, made of stardust. He breathed deeply. Get ready for Kenzie. He lifted his shaking fingers to his collar, his skin flushed, his mind aching.

--------

Duncan emerged twenty minutes later, gazing down at his sleeves, their gold mesmerizing. Morgan had laid the tailored black chinos that completed his look on a table next to the dress form, but he wore his signature Yves Wyatt boots on his feet still, and knew he’d wear them to the Gala as well; they complimented the look shockingly well. He moved over to Morgan’s oblong white table and pulled one of the white chairs closer to the center of the room, looping his long legs on either side of it, sitting carefully. The room was quiet, but he could hear the soft strains of Kenzie and Claire’s voices in the room beyond, the lilt of Kenzie’s excitement, and it was making his body vibrate with the desire to see her, his heart slamming painfully into his ribcage. He slid one hand along his jaw, index and middle fingers trailing along his bottom lip. Oh my fucking god, Kenz, I’m on fire waiting for you. He could feel the twinge of his cock straining under the tight chinos, wondered how he’d ever be able to stand the cock ring teasing him all night. I’m going to want to eat her alive by the end. He thought of the Bacchanalian revelry of The Youth of Bacchus, the dancing figures, stoked by a frenzy of wine and energy of a wanton god of ecstasy. It was as if he could feel that same energy beginning to stir around the corners of the day--could feel it being stoked up, being kindled, like the first strains of a tornado drifting down from a dark, stormy sky. The wild wine god comes tonight. He will stoke the lust of the people to debauchery, as now he pushes my senses toward my need for her. My Ariadne, draped in stars. Tonight, the party. Tonight, the wine god comes. He shivered.

The door Claire and Kenzie had disappeared into opened; Claire came out, Morgan behind her in her silent, cool way--Claire looked at Duncan approvingly, her eyes rapt.

“Wow, fuck, Duncan. You look fucking gorgeous. Not that you don’t always,” and she blushed deeply, a hand coming up to her cheek. “Everyone’s going to lose their shit. Okay, listen. Are you ready for this goddess?”

“Is it possible for me to be ready for this?” Duncan’s hand shook as he brought it down from his jaw, his question an earnest one to Kenzie’s best friend.

“Probably not. Take a deep breath.”

He shuddered one into his lungs. Make sure you breathe. He gave her a shaky nod.

“Kenzie,” Claire called through the doorway, stepping aside. Morgan moved to stand beside Duncan, for a longer view. “Your Prince is ready for you.”

For a moment no one stirred, then Duncan saw Kenzie’s little hand push at the door, pressing it open wider; an uncalculated moan fell from Duncan’s lips as he saw her, and he had to shut his eyes for a moment, had to catch his breath again, dizziness wiping over him, the ache in his cock returning full force. He forced his eyes open--she was staring at him, her mouth having fallen open, her eyes sparkling with sudden moisture, obvious even from the distance between them.

“Duncan,” she breathed.

“No, baby, no--you. You.”

Kenzie’s dress was gold.

Pure gold, a cascade of lamé that draped and pleated all around her, its opulent folds falling in drifts that hugged at her tiny waist and curving hips, gathering down to trail at the floor, her left leg visible above the thigh from a long slit that ran down the gown’s length. Its rivels, shimmering and weaving like the waves on the ocean’s surface, reminded him of how he’d always imagined the robes of the gods on Mount Olympus to appear; of a fabric not known to man, drifting as if in some phantom wind, too exquisite a fabric to be called silk, softer than the light of moonbeams on quiet forest floors in deepest night. One of the sleeves draped down her left arm, dipping almost to the crook of her elbow; the other lifted over her shoulder from a draping fold that began at the sharp tailoring at her waist and lifted over half the tailored bodice of the front of the gown, her breasts emphasized by two sewn cups and careful boning, outlining the form of her bust. Her throat and collarbones were bare, her skin exquisite in its whiteness above so much gold. The thin line of sleeve that went over her shoulder from the pleats continued to extend down her back--Kenzie turned, her eyes inside his, to show him the breathtaking drift of a long train that fell to the floor from her right shoulder blade, another rusch of fabric across her back below to her left shoulder. The train continued along the ground for several feet, its gold like spilled liquid, impossible in its lovely softness; the train of a princess, of a queen, of a goddess in a painting, a fairy tale come to life, and here she stands before me, somehow real, impossibly real. I should be struck dumb to behold her.

Kenzie turned back to him, and he could see the delicate bones of her clavicle quivering, the shiver of her golden hair over her shoulder, its waves like silk to him, the depth of the hazel of her eyes (ambrosia, the golden honey of holy bees, the green of emeralds, the russet of topaz and tiger’s eye). Her little hands were fumbling in front of her stomach, and the nervous curve of her mind was creeping up against him, like an electrical current. You look so fucking beautiful, baby, she was thinking, and the lump that rose in his throat threatened to shatter his composure.

Kenzie, it’s not me. It’s you. You’re a goddess. You’re truly a goddess. You’re too beautiful to describe. I don’t know if you can feel how I feel to look at you in this moment, but if you can even a little, you know I can’t...there are no words I know of. I can’t find words for how beautiful you are. You pierce my heart. I should build you a temple and leave you a garden of roses there every day. Duncan stood, his legs shaking. Claire and Morgan were quiet--they seemed to sense the intensity of the emotion that drifted in the room; Duncan heard Claire sniffing quietly, in tears.

Suddenly, quickly, Duncan and Kenzie had rushed together--his feet had carried him so quickly his mind seemed to follow after him, trying to catch up, and his hands were grasping hers with a tenderness that made his body ache, made his breath catch, they were falling, devotedly, down the easeful curve of the dress, the warmth of her body beneath it sending a shiver down his spine, the gold bracelet at his wrist disappearing into her gold, devoured by it.

“Holy fuck, baby,” he whispered. “Holy fuck.”

Persephone, my flower dipped in gold. Kenzie didn’t speak, but he knew she accepted the drift of his thought.

Hades, my shadowed prince draped in falling stars. She tilted her head to him, her little fingers coming up to drift over the caged golden tips of his collar as the diamonds at her wrist winked against the gold leaf of his velvet jacket, and she kissed him, her mouth a holy tremor on his lips, his prayer to her accepted, as it ever was.

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