#touching divinity out of the sheer desperation to just touch each other one last time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hansolmates · 4 years

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jjk; off-league

summary; you decide to do a little boudoir photoshoot for yourself—a little sexy lingerie, some bunny ears, maybe even a little nudity to make you feel more body positive about yourself. that little photoshoot doesn’t end up being for yourself anymore when you accidentally send those sexy pictures to your stupidly hot, stupidly talented childhood friend who you haven’t spoken to since middle school graduation. pairing; photographer!jk x fem!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers!au, flangst, mutual pining, feelings of insecurity and body image, suggestive language, nudity w.c; 6.2k a/n: i was feeling a lil meh about this fic after finishing it but a month later it finally makes its debut! for @btsghostiewritersnet BGW Bingo Bash! today’s trope is “childhood friends to lovers” which surprisingly isn’t a favorite of mine so it was definitely a challenge to write!

“C’mon, I need your opinion. Deadass. Don’t just say shit to make me feel better.”

“Gimmie those nudes, baby girl,” Johnny makes an impeccable fuckboy impersonation, making you feel a little squirmy to your stomach.

It’s an hour away from being the ass-crack’o-dawn and your impromptu pin-up photoshoot just needs the sexy-star-of-approval from your best friend. Johnny Suh is also up for reasons unmentioned, but you had a feeling his pretty boyfriend is fifty percent of the reason.

You look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your frame against the black bodice of the sheer teddy. The only parts that are fully concealed are the parts that don’t matter. The sheer bodice reveals your pert nipples concealed by a thin black mesh, coupled with the deep V in the sweetheart neckline, accented by a little black bow in the dive of your highlighted cleavage. The silky a-line raceways to a set of black garters hugging your thighs, barely hanging onto a pair of lace thigh-highs.

It doesn’t leave you butt naked, but enough to make you feel confident about yourself. These pictures are for you, and Johnny. And Johnny’s boyfriend if he’s being nosy.

You tug off the silk bunny ears from your head, flinging it somewhere in your room. The wire started to dig in your brain, giving you a major headache.

“Sending them now,” you hang up and start compiling the pictures in a folder on Google Drive. Once that’s done you copy the shareable link, sending it to Johnny’s number. It happens all so fast, and you feel kind of giddy. As you were posing for the camera, taking your time to find all the right angles, you felt good, you felt sexy in your little get up. Channeling your inner Ariana Grande was one of your childhood dreams, your fifteen year old self would be proud.

Five minutes pass, fifteen, and by the twenty-five minute mark you’re pissed. What’s taking Johnny so long?

Makeup scrubbed clean and face bare, you shuffle in your duvet, far too tired to be waiting up this long. Punching in his number once more, you cry, “Hey! Why haven’t you looked at them yet?”

“What?” your friend’s voice sounds pebbly through the line. Was Johnny sleeping? “You never sent them!” he whines tiredly.

“No, I definitely sent them!” you pull the phone away and keep Johnny on call, ready to prove him wrong.

But to your surprise, the last message you sent to Johnny was this afternoon.

The most recent message is to a person named John Kook.

You scream.

Johnny screams back at you with an equal amount of force, “What the fuck? Did someone break in? Are you being mobbed? See, this is why I wanted to put the baby monitor in your room—”

“Worse!” you’re well prepared for any break in, but not for this. “I sent my pics to the wrong John!”

“Well… is he at least cute?”

“I mean, in the fourth grade he looked pretty cute with that front tooth missing,” you find your output of frustration, your bunny plush, pulling it by the ear and hitting it against the bed. “His name isn’t even John! It was just his English name for a silly project we did in middle school. This is so embarrassing, all I can picture is a twelve-year-old Jungkook mortified from sexual harassment. I basically sent him nudes!”

“Tasteful nudes.”

“I’m gonna die.”

“He’s gonna die, of happiness.”

Jeon Jungkook was a classmate from elementary through middle school. Time and time again was he the object of your affections, from the first grade at the roller rink to the speech he made at graduation. But really, who cares? You’re old and have a job, and it’s not like you’ve communicated with any of your former classmates.

Your horror amplifies when the Delivered receipt is changed to Read 3:41AM.

“Fuck! Fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget he saw it!” you cry, “does he still have my number? What if he deleted my contact, would that be even weirder?”

“Girl, stop.” Johnny sighs, and you can already picture him running his thumb between his brows. “This doesn’t change anything, alright? You two don’t know each other anymore. Block his number and go to sleep.”

Johnny leaves you alone after that, and you’re left alone to mull over the implications of sending Jeon Jungkook your nude photoshoot.

You do block his number, knowing that waiting for a reply would drive you nuts. The one thing that you do which is possibly worse, is look him up on Instagram.

Of course, he’s stupid hot.

He doesn’t seem to like being on the receiving end of the camera however, in favor of his timeline being filled with romantic shots of the beach and city. In between the picturesque views and watercolor sunsets do you see glimpses of him and his current life. You can’t help but smile when you see him with his brother and parents during his college graduation, easily towering over all of them. He looks tall with fluffy cocoa hair, big pearly whites gleaming proudly at the camera. He grew up well.

To torture yourself even more, you even look through his story. Twelve hours ago, he was at the gym lifting weights. Normally, you’d be disgusted by people trying to show off their grunt faces drenched in sweat, but of course Jungkook has to have on a silly smile and pump his fist up after he deadlifts. The sweat clinging to his shirt is also a high plus. His gorgeous display of abs has your hands fluttering over your own belly. Maybe you need to exercise more.

Four hours ago, you see him and a pretty woman with their cheeks squished together, using the puppy filter. Of course he has a girlfriend.

Reluctant, you open up your Google Drive and scroll through your photoshoot. Deflated, you frown at the pictures that once made you beam with pride, picking at every little detail that bothered you. You really can’t believe you sent these to Jeon Jungkook, no longer a fourth grader with one front tooth, but a man way out of your league.

By the time you will yourself to sleep, the sun peeks from the horizon, telling you to move on.

“Hey Gyu,” you tiptoe over to the table much too small for Mingyu’s frame. The string bean is slumped over his iPad pro, drawing intently at some chibi OCs. “Got a plot for that one?” you ask, pointing at the little pink and blue creature decorating the screen.

Mingyu grunts in reply, obviously engrossed. It isn’t until you slide him a matcha frappe from Starbucks that he becomes intelligible, muttering a “thank you” as he blends with his pen.

Sensing that it’s going to be awhile before you get through to him, you take your usual rounds around the front desk and lobby of the cosy photo studio. There’s pretty pictures of Mingyu’s work, along with the other employees Minghao and Hoseok. Each section of the wall features a different taste of each person’s interest. Mingyu is a divine lover of soft bed sheets and hot tea, many of his photographs and paintings featuring cafes or perfectly messy beds you’ve seen on hotel advertisements. Minghao is a tasteful artisan, splotches of color retaliating against neutral backgrounds. Finally, Hoseok manages to find balance in the people, large cityscapes telling both large and small stories.

“Alright,” Mingyu’s deep voice forces you to curl your head, where he’s sipping at his drink with haste. “What’cha here for?”

You frown, “Don’t you remember? I told you last week I’d be stopping by to get my photos developed,” you gesture to the Pentax in your hands, an heirloom from your great-aunt. While you did take digital photos for sending them to Johnny, the ones you wanted developed were taken side-by-side with the film camera. You figured that film would give a little more authenticity to your photoshoot.

“Shit, that’s today?” the camera falls like deadweight, slapping against your sweater as you watch Mingyu frantically look through his digital calendar. He looks at you, dejected. “How many prints?”

“I don’t know, maybe like six. Or eight?”

“That’s gonna take too long, I’m heading down to Hidden Grounds for a vision meeting at two.”

“Alright, I’m free all day. What about after?”

“Nah, you came all this way. I can just let the new guy help you.” and Mingyu makes a show of cupping his hands in the direction of the open hallway, “Yah, Jeon Jungkook! Get your cute ass out here!”

The Pentax around your neck suddenly feels like weight akin to a two-ton boulder, and you surge forward, not caring that the corner of the table is digging into your belly. “Mingyu,” you garble, and Mingyu is shell-shocked by the desperation in your eyes. “Isn’t Minghao around or something? Or I can come back another time? These photos are really personal and I don’t feel comfortable having a stranger see them.”

“What? We’re professionals, don’t belittle us.”

“No, seriously,” you whine, you tug at the collar of his denim jacket, noses practically touching. “These pictures are different. My tits are out and my legs are spread—”

“—interrupting something?”

You hear some shuffling, and you turn around to see Jeon Jungkook’s back, comically turned to face the entrance.

And damn, he did have a cute ass. Nothing is going to hide the glory in those jeans, absolutely nothing.

“Hilarious,” Mingyu drawls, and you push him away. “Forget it, Kook. She doesn’t feel comfortable letting a stranger develop her photos.”

Sensing that it’s safe to turn around, you watch as his black bangs flutter as he faces you. You hope your body language doesn’t betray how you’re really feeling, because you are a mere mortal and you’re weak in the presence of god-like figures.

“Oh, what a relief then,” he smiles at you, and his voice sounds like honey. If there was malice or surprise in his tone, his good-natured expression betrays it. “Because I’ve known this friend since elementary school. We go way back.”

You ignore the burn in the back of your head, as you are positive Mingyu knows you’re hiding something.

“Really, what a coincidence.” Mingyu replies carefully, and you feel utterly stuck between these men and their banter, locked up like cream in an Oreo cookie.

Nothing argues against Jungkook as he easily weaves through the thick wave of awkwardness, hands reaching out to touch your camera. “Wow,” he marvels, holding the object in his hands, “my dad has one of these.”

“A-ha,” you take a step back, only to bump into the corner of the table, again. Ouch. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m actually busy today so I can come when Mingyu’s free–”

“Oh, I thought you were free all day,” Mingyu drawls, looking up through his lashes as he sips languidly at his drink.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says good-naturedly, as if Mingyu just didn’t out you. “We got a lot of catching up to do anyway, c’mon.”

Jungkook moves to place a hand in the small of your back and that’s enough to get you to rev up. Refusing to let any contact get between the two of you, you zip ahead down the familiar hallway, turning your head to catch Mingyu grinning with all canines, shooing you with his fingers like a puppy.

You send Mingyu a stream of “fuck yous” into his inbox for later, unwilling to settle with this curse. Busying yourself with your phone, you avoid eye contact with Jungkook until you reach the dark room. The red light turned off at the top of the doorhenge signals that the room is not in use. Jungkook makes a move to open the door and that’s when you pounce, blocking the doorway with your small body. It’s comical, really.

Jungkook raises a brow at you, but says nothing.

“I really can wait, Jungkook,” you steel yourself, forcing a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you developing my pictures—”

It’s then that his pretty cupid’s bow unfurls into a full-fledged grin. “Girlfriend... you’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

“Fuck, well I had to!” your face is as red as the dark room’s alert light, now on because Jungkook flicked the switch and he’s between your arm to unlock the door. Your hand brushes his as you both reach the knob. “I’m really really sorry I sent those pictures. They were for Johnny—you remember Johnny Suh from English class? And I saved you in my contacts as “John Kook” so it was an honest mess up.”

Jungkook hums, so light that the breathiness in his chords flutters your grip on the knob. He forces the door ajar, and you’re left to follow him in the dark room, cluttered with solutions and fancy equipment.

“Thought so,” Jungkook shrugged, giving a one-over at the materials in the room, mulling over his next steps in developing your film.

You’re still petrified at the doorway, holding your Pentax between both hands like a lifeline. Jungkook’s head lols to you, and you get a pretty view of the way his bangs brush over his forehead, Adam’s Apple bobbing. His expression is a little tired, but overall unreadable. He sighs your name, lethargic.

“We’re already here, so might as well get this done,” he gestures to the camera in your vice grip. “Do you wanna pick the shots or do you want me to?”

He’s already seen the digitals, what’s so different about getting a couple prints? With a slight pout you drag your feet over to him, relinquishing your camera. “I’m thinking you have a better eye for this than I do.”

“You think right.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Cocky, but what you’ve seen on Instagram definitely justifies his sentiment. Jungkook pays no mind to you, busying his hands with the various containers in front of him, measuring the solutions for the developer, stopper, and fixer. You were always entranced by the process of developing film, especially in highschool where their photography club holed themselves in the darkroom like a secret lair.

“Alright,” he pops open the canister, carefully laying out sections of the film in groups of four. “Want me to pick a random one for a tester?”

You frown, “At least put some thought into it.”

“Always,” it looks like he already decided way before he popped the question, immediately taking a negative and placing it in the carrier.

His fingers are nimble as he takes the time to clean off the dust and any debris that could potentially ruin the image. Then he turns off the lights and begins the process. You dive around him, trying to keep your distance but still too curious to leave his side. If he’s annoyed he fails to show it, in favor of humming whatever song comes from his Echo Dot.

You always got the solos in choir. You wanted to reminisce, but you’re too nervous to say it out loud.

Even though it’s his job and he’s being a professional, you romanticize the experience, watching as he carefully puts the print in each liquid process. Your image blooms to life, and you feel your stomach churn as the photo develops before your eyes.

After a final dip in the solution stopper, he places the first product in a bath of water. Even though you are mere centimeters away, you can clearly see the image of you swimming around the container.

“Alright!” Jungkook hangs the finished picture on a pastel pink clothespin, tacking it in place. “Whaddya think?”

Your breath catches in your throat, feeling heavy as you look at the image of you reflected in the glossy paper. You’re perched on your bed, a hand splaying between your legs as the other hand toys with the silk bunny ears. You’re leaned slightly, giving an ample view of your cleavage. However, the image of you is definitely different from being blown up in comparison to the negatives, and you squirm uncomfortably at your full display.

“I look,” you bite your tongue, internally debating whether you like it or not. Not to spare Jungkook the theatrics you shrug, “It’s good.”

The lack of enthusiasm seems to dissatisfy Jungkook however, as he has to take a double take and look back and forth between the image and the real thing. “What’s wrong with it, do you think Johnny’ll not like it?”

“What?” you furrow your brows, breaking into a nervous laugh. “Johnny has a boyfriend. I just wanted his opinion. This photoshoot is for me, y’know? Just something to make me feel good about myself.”

Jungkook’s lips morph into a little ‘o’, and you see a little bit of the child you once knew in the way he’s mulling over the situation.

“Then can I give you my honest opinion?” Jungkook clips off the half-dried photo, holding it between you two. “Stop thinking so hard about every little thing you don’t like about yourself. If I was your boyfriend and you gifted this to me, I’d be creaming my pants. You look fucking sexy, all grown up since you cried in the fourth grade.”

You’ve just been flung a litany of words you have no brain capacity to digest. Along with that, the immense heat you didn’t know you’ve been suppressing surges to your belly, low and simmering. Jungkook stares at you in earnest, despite his sudden gush of honesty, you don’t know what to say. There’s a dash of pink staining his cheeks, betraying the confidence he previously displayed. He stiffens when you don’t reply immediately and moves to clean his materials, his sudden bout of bold honesty quickly shrinking.

“Y-you know,” you look down at your feet, “the only reason why I cried in the fourth grade was because you told me Santa wasn’t real.”

Jungkook softens, tilting his head. “Sorry about that.”

“Thanks though,” you gently reach for the photo in Jungkook’s grasp, looking at it without contempt. “But won’t your girlfriend be upset if she knew you were saying things like this about someone else?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you looked through the rest of my Instagram story,” Jungkooks cards a hand through his already mussed hair, splitting the ends. “You would see that she’s not my girlfriend, but my tattoo artist.”

For added measure, he wiggles his fingers in front of you, revealing pretty ink and silver bands across his knuckles.

“Oh,” your voice is feather light, and you’re sure you’re drooling as you stare far too long at the letters that mark his hands, curious as to what they symbolize.

“So, as a singleton telling another singleton,” he continues, “I know it’s meaningless if you don’t believe it yourself, but I’m telling you, you’re attractive.”

“Thanks,” you hold the picture tightly in your grasp, eyes flickering to the negatives in the room ready to be galvanized into a full-fledged picture. “Why don’t we wrap this up, huh? We can continue another time.”

If he notices how much the paper wilts in your grasp, he doesn’t comment on it. “Are you sure? I know it takes a lot of time, but I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure,” you force a smile, one hand on the lightswitch. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, okay?”

Jungkook swallows, nodding mechanically. “Okay.”

“It was really nice seeing you, Kook.” you blurt before you could chicken out, letting the room bask in darkness a little longer so he can’t see your flustered state. “I’m not even going to downplay it, you look great.”

You half-expect a cocky remark, or a little chest pumping from the compliment. At the sound of his nickname however, 4th grade Jeon Jungkook resurfaces and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, so do you,” he replies easily, sending you a soft smile and opening the door for you.

The door closes shut behind you and you exhale, patting your cheeks and willing for the chilly air to calm you down.

When you get home that day, you shuck off all your clothes and crawl into bed. You cry out when the metal framing of your bunny ears stabs you in the back, and you fling it to some unmentionable part of the room. You reach for a bag of half-opened sour gummy worms, flipping open your MacBook to continue streaming the soft magical girl anime you’ve been hooked on these past few weeks.

Not even Sailor Uranus can distract you; however, by the time it’s dark and you’ve run out of distractions, you finally pull the plug and unblock Jungkook from your list of contacts.

Your phone buzzes, the incessant vibration relaying all the messages you’ve missed.

[March 12th, 3:53AM]

You: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/0343…

John Kook: ???

John Kook: you probably sent this to me by accident… sorry i clicked on it

John Kook: is it weird if i said you’ve done a massive glow up since the middle school dance?

[March 12th, 12:02 PM]

John Kook: are u mad

John Kook: you’re mad

John Kook: am i makin this weird by continuing to text you

John Kook: im making it weird.

[March 31st, 6:24 PM]

John Kook: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/049…

You tilt your head at the folder link, it was sent only a few hours ago. With a click, you’re enlightened to a set of digital photos. Your photos from your photoshoot, but not quite. They’ve been expertly edited, not too much to distort your looks, but only to enhance your features. A small, barely there smile creeps from your subconscious, ultimately touched by the gesture.

John Kook: sorry if i pushed too hard today.

Guilt overrides your nerves, prompting you to immediately press the call button on his contact. Not to your surprise, Jungkook’s light voice calls your name through the line after the second ring.

“Don’t be sorry,” you blurt, forgoing the hellos. “It was the right amount of push, I feel better, really. If anything, I’m sorry. I blocked your number because I was scared to read your reaction.”

You hear him sigh along the line, and you feel that breath ripple through your nerves, as if he’s right next to you. “It’s fine, I would’ve done the same thing.”

“The pictures you just sent, they’re really beautiful. You did a good job.”

“Thanks, I had a bit of help. I didn’t have to do much.”

“Oh, did Mingyu come back from his meeting?”

"No, I uh," Jungkook chuckles, and while you don't really know why, the sound is nonetheless pleasant. “It was mostly the lighting and coloring I fixed up. Didn’t need to do much since you already looked so pretty as it is.”

You choke on your saliva.

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you cough, “just choked on a snack I was eating.” he hums in reply, and you pray he doesn’t hear your stomach fervently retort that you haven’t eaten since lunch. “So, I think I’m up for developing more of the film. When can I drop by?”

“I’m free Saturday,” Jungkook chirps, “I have a shoot until noon but you can come anytime after that.”

“Sounds good, I’ll be there,” you clutch the phone with both hands. “I can bring lunch. What do you like to eat?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m already buying for Minghao,” you lie, “do you like burgers?”

“I can’t say no to a good burger,” Jungkook’s smile feels almost palpable against the line, “do you remember our field trip to the national museum of history? We had burgers on the street!”

“Oh, those were so good,” you moan, fuzzy memories of a middle grade field trip resurfacing to clarity, “but you ate like, ten of them!”

“I still get nightmares,” he warns, “don’t let me go to bed like this.”

You giggle, letting your body meld further into your warm mattress. “Maybe I’ll just show up with ten burgers for you tomorrow.”

“I’ll throw up on you, try me.”

Minghao’s adjusting the frames on their display wall by the centimeter, and it’s pissing him off.

“Ah, it’s off,” he mutters to himself when you walk in, indicated by the electronic bell. He turns to you briefly, pulling a leveler out of his overall pocket. “Doesn’t this look off?”

“Uh,” you look towards Mingyu at the front desk, who is paying no mind as he continues scribbling on his iPad. You tilt your head towards your former college classmate. “It doesn’t look off from over here?”

Tacking the leveler on one of the frames, he whines, “It’s five degrees off.”

Mingyu puts his pen down to reach over the counter and grab the paper from your hands, steaming with the scent of fast food, “He’s been like this for hours, don’t mind him.”

He doesn’t even ask whether the food is his, Mingyu sees grease and he claims. Reaching for an oil-wrapped parchment, he unfolds the paper to reveal a handsome burger with all the fix-ens.

Barely satisfied, Minghao steps away from the art display. There is a sizable gap in the display, now divided between four artists instead of three. You wonder how Jungkook’s work will look amongst the other artists.

“Cute ‘fit.” Minghao mumbles, nodding approvingly at your clothes as he digs into the bag for his own burger.

You send a half-smile his way. If an outfit is Minghao-approved, that means you’ve gone above and beyond. At least, you tried to play it off like you didn’t try to look cute. It’s not like you’re intimidated by Jungkook, living with a major fifteen-year glow up. After all, he’s already seen more than you can imagine.

Mingyu takes notice, eyes going south to where your white blouse meets your cleavage. You hurl a fry at his face, “Eyes up here, perv.”

He scrunches his nose, lifting a greasy thumb to slide a manila envelope over to you. “Here’s the developed pictures. Intercepted Kook and I finished them this morning.”

You frown, “Jungkook’s not done with his photoshoot yet?”

“Oh, he’s been done.” Mingyu’s eyes roll back to one of the studios. “But I’m saying is, you got what you needed. So you can leave if you want,” but he grins at you, canines so sharp you feel his stare jabbing you in the proverbial neck. “Unlesssss you want to go in and say hi.”

If he has any inkling of what’s going on in your head, it’s definitely confirmed when your face turns hot. Damn body, you’re betraying me! With a flourish you grab the fries from under Mingyu’s nose, along with whatever’s left in the fast food bag.

Minghao’s smiling through his burger, knowing if he pulls any type of savagery his lunch would certainly be pulled from under his chin.

“Whatever you’re thinking, drop it or the burger will be going in your ass instead of out.” You mean to sound menacing, but the Min-squared and their boisterous laughter follow you down the hallway and into the occupied studio.

“Hey Jungkoo—wow.”

You’re sure you look like Alice, enthralled by the little wonderland she just stepped into. The set is beautiful, right out of a fairytale. It has a very old-romance vibe, like Morticia and Gomez Addams. There lay a couch made of the darkest, richest wood, with velvet red cushions covering the body. Across the floor laid hundreds of black rose petals, blanketing the floor in a sea of ebony.

“It’s for a wedding, gothic themed.” Jungkook supplies helpfully, still fiddling with whatever he was looking on his digital camera. He’s looking utterly soft in a matching grey sweat combination, something that would easily disgust you during high school, but unfairly works with him.

“The shoot must’ve been beautiful.”

“It was.”

“I uh, got this for you.” Your fingers start to sweat from clutching the bag so hard, and you place it on his work table.

He finally looks up from his camera, giving you a wan smile. “I thought you got those for Minghao.”

You mentally slap your cheeks, trying to ignore the way his smile made your stomach do somersaults. “He got his own. Your portion has a cookie in it, so.”

His cute teeth unveil themselves at the mention of sweets, and you can’t help but smile back at the familiarity.

The two of you take your time in enjoying your lunch, not meaning to stay but the very back of your mind hoping he’d like to share a meal with you. After all, Mingyu and Minghao are probably at the front relishing in your very obvious attraction. What can you say, first crushes never die.

Between sips of your milkshake, you’ve taken to flipping through Jungkook’s portfolio. There’s a myriad of different subjects: beaches, people, the occasional squirrel. Each section of the portfolio feels like you’re being transported to a new side of Jungkook and his artistry, and you ached to know more.

“Wow,” you point at an action shot of two girls in a dance studio, “this duo looks like Chungha and Hyoyeon.”

He swallows his (second) burger, having the audacity to sink sheepishly in his sweater. “It is Chungha and Hyoyeon.”

You nearly choke on your cookie. “That’s amazing.” you say breathlessly, looking closer at the image. In fact, the beautiful women photographed are famed hip-hop choreographers Chungha and Hyoyeon. You can’t imagine how good Jungkook must be to manage a photoshoot with them.

As proud as you are of Jungkook, it reminds you that since middle school you two have lived completely different lives. You wonder if Jungkook gets these kinds of gigs all the time, hanging around with gorgeous, talented people like himself.

Jungkook says your name once, twice. He looks at you concerned, and you’re melting in his large carmine eyes. If he notices your usual overthinking, he doesn’t say anything, and gestures to the section at the end of his portfolio. “This isn’t my best work, but it’s one of my favorites.”

There’s something familiar about this set. A playground with a busted swing set. Children riding on bikes and colorful class shirts. Ice cream melting on fists.

Thirteen-year-old you hanging on top of your middle school’s leafless tree, clutching your baseball cap as you shade yourself from the sunset.

“Was this the first time you took pictures?” you ask, thumbing the picture of yourself.

“Yeah. It’s when I decided it’s what I wanted to do the rest of my life.”

“I know we didn’t know each other that well and we’ve only recently connected but,” you give him a shy smile, “I’m really proud of what you’ve grown up to be, Jungkook.”

He looks like you’ve hung him the moon and stars, his half-eaten burger loosening in his grasp. His lips are parted cutely, like a kitten who’s just been offered a fresh glass of milk. You cough at the sudden pause in conversation, feeling self-conscious of your impulse confession. You don’t even have it in you to be disgusted when Jungkook hastily shoves the second half of his burger down his throat, tips of his ears pink.

Leaving him be, you press a palm to your cheek, looking at the wedding set.

Jungkook downs half a water bottle before he speaks again. “Y’know, it would be a shame to clean up this set already. It was kind of expensive.”

“Yeah,” you echo, standing up and kicking off your slippers. You kick your feet in the air, watching the black petals kiss across your ankles.

“I have an idea,” he wipes his hands on his sweats, “why don’t you go back home and get an outfit you really like. Lingerie, a cute outfit, whatever. Let me give you a photoshoot you’d love.”

You look up from your petal dance, balking. “Jungkook! That’s not necessary, I told you the photos I took were okay.”

“Yeah but, you didn’t seem entirely happy. C’mon, I got a camera and a beautiful set. Why waste it?” his hands naturally gravitate towards his charging camera, already turning it on. “I can do lighting, I know all your good angles. What’s stopping us?”

Really, what’s stopping you? Your hands fiddle with your open flannel, the soft material comforting you as you look across the set. You try to imagine yourself, your body draped across the velvet pillows and black petals. Would it look good? Would you feel good? You think back to how you felt the first time, how scared you were when someone other than Johnny would be looking at your photos. You remember how something weird and sour contorted in your stomach when you scrolled through Jeon Jungkook’s Instagram, no longer the little boy you knew but a man who could have everything he wanted—

“Stop thinking about it.” Jungkook suddenly snaps, and you break from your reverie to catch him looking upset. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him like that.

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking that you’re out of my league.”

“Excuse me?”

“You were like this the other day too,” and he looks sad, and puts his camera down to come closer to you. “Why are you feeling this way. Is it me?”

“Not necessarily,” you huff, hugging yourself.

“Do you not feel beautiful? Do you not like your body?”

“No, I do.” you say to yourself, and you mean it. Even though there will inevitably be days where you may not feel one-hundred percent positive about yourself, you know at the end of the day, you love you and all its parts. “I don’t know, Jungkook. I had no problem letting Mingyu develop the photos originally, because he knew me in college and I was already sure of myself back then. But I guess when I sent them to you, I felt like I did when I was a little girl, y’know? Going through puberty, and worrying about what other people think.”

And it’s not like Jungkook teased you or made you feel lesser of yourself. In fact, Jungkook was the student you wanted to be when you were younger. Someone sweet and caring, and unabashedly confident about himself.

“I guess seeing you so successful and the fact that my stupid childhood crush came back from a time where I always felt low, made me feel a little insecure again.”

Something sinks in and you feel hyper aware of how crushed Jungkook looks at your declaration. “There’s no leagues, you got that?” he says quietly, walking so close that he’s hovering over you, sneakers brushing. “I get it. I get unsure and insecure just like you. Hell, I was nervous this morning, wondering if you’d really come. We may not feel insecure over the same things, but middle school wasn’t that great for me either.” He makes a funny face, and you feel a smile twitch across your lips. “But it’s okay. Because we’re human and we grow. But now, you are successful. You’ve grown from your time growing up and you’re a wonderful, powerful person. I’m proud of you too.”

“I know,” you mumble, leaning your forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around you in response, holding you snug.

“And for the record, I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world in fourth grade. Even though my world was pretty small back then, I can say now that what I thought back then still stands true.”

You look up from his embrace, where he’s leaning down to press a slow, cotton soft kiss to your forehead. He backs up a little to read your face, and you give a tiny nod in response to signal it’s okay. Jungkook exhales in contentment, relaxing against your frame.

“Thanks, Kook,” you crack a smile, feeling your insecurities slowly evaporate. You feel better, light, knowing that these negative feelings are only temporary, and you’re not alone. Being in Jungkook’s arms, an honest boy turned man you’ve known all your life, it feels almost like home.

You two stay like this for a while. Exchanging feather-like kisses, feeling irrevocably young and hopeful. Suddenly feeling emboldened, you tug him by the strings of his hoodie to press a long, hot kiss to his lips. There’s a stutter, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook choked on his saliva at the sudden change of pace but you continue, letting Jungkook catch up and follow your lead.

“Wow,” Jungkook pulls away and his lips are shiny and flushed. Adorable. You think 7th grade Jungkook would be rolling in his Naruto sheets if he knew you two would inevitably end up together. Conversely, 7th grade you would be squealing in your kitten plushie, proud that you managed to nab your childhood crush to live out all the fantasies you’ve imagined since the 4th grade.

“Jungkook,” you let your flannel fall to the floor in a heap, only leaving your baby blue top in a thin ruched camisole. “I think I want to do the photoshoot. Can’t pass up these pretty petals, y’know?”

He runs a hand through his hair, gaping. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you press a wet kiss to his neck, “anyway you want me, baby. Full creative control. I want you to like this as much as I do, okay?”

With the permission to hold the wheel, Jungkook’s lightheaded and spinning. His eyes rake up and down your gorgeous form, wondering how many good deeds he’s done in his past life to earn a right just as this.

“In that case,” he presses a palm to your shoulder, pushing you to sit along the velvet cushion, “strip for me.”

#jungkook fic #btsghostiebingo #goldenclosetnet #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bts fic #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader

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arcane-apathy · 3 years

Text

F Drider X F Reader

AN: Welcome to a new little mini-series of mine. I have been dying to write a drider story for the longest time now. This story is the first of my high fantasy genre, all my other stories have been modern fantasy or sci-fi. But this one is pure fantasy. I’m very slowly trying to make my content applicable for a wider audience as well. Anyways... Thank y’all for your support, and I hope you’ll enjoy!

Warning(s): Swearing, Violence, Injuries, Mention of Sexual Assault, Death, Alcohol, Brief Mention of Nudity

The Bloodroot Forest was the last place you expected to make camp in. When you first saw it on the map you tried everything to avoid it. But, the forest was massive and would take weeks for you to circumvent. Upon arrival you discovered the name of it is scarier than the actual forest. Simply named after the dark red sap that flowed from the otherwise normal trees. The forest was calm, the paths well worn and old, and the deer were brave.

Your camp was measly and made of the bare necessities, product of a rushed escape. War has ravaged your community, forcing everyone to seek refuge in new places. You have yet to find a suitable home, one far enough away so you wouldn’t need to flee again. For now you lived out of your bag, foraging for food, and with a stiff back. But, whenever you wanted to complain, you had to remind yourself of what your fate would’ve been if you hadn’t left home.

The forest was peaceful at night as you laid on your makeshift bed, tightly wrapped up in your cloak. The wind gently tosses the branches above you and the occasional noise of an animal. Just as you were about to sleep, the noises changed. The nocturnal birds stopped chirping and you could hear the animals running further away from you. And you didn’t dare to move. Animals only left when they were scared and if the deer that were brave enough to mosey into your camp earlier were scared, something big was coming.

Very slowly you sat up, straining your ears for any hint as to what was coming. The silence was bone chilling. Then there was a rustle. You couldn’t tell exactly where it was coming from, which didn’t put you at any ease. Slowly your hand landed on the blade at your waist, a gift from your uncle after coming of age.

“Well, what do I have here?” You quickly cover your mouth to keep from screaming, turning around to look behind you. Yet no one was there. “Look up.” Out of sheer curiosity you obeyed, your eyes quickly met with large pure black eyes and pincers. You try to scramble away from them, only to find yourself hitting the tree behind you. Driders were a force to be reckoned with, most of them being mercenaries or guards to those of importance. But, encountering one in their natural habitat was another story. Here they were territorial and followed no laws.

The Drider smirks as he hangs above you, his black and white legs twitch in anticipation as he watches you, “I knew I smelt something off earlier. Now I know what it is.” His pitch black hand reached out to touch you, “and you do smell divine.” Normally when a scent-sensitive person no matter what race they were compliments you on your scent, it would fill you with a sense of pride. But this just felt wrong on so many levels. “So girly, what are you doing in my territory?”

You shy away from his hand, glancing up and the red and black abdomen above you, “just passing through, I promise to be gone by morning.”

He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, his pincers rising as he frowns, “see I can't just let you through without any way to pay." You could now feel the heat of his breath fanning over you as he gets even closer. Sadly with his advantage of four arms he managed to grab a hold of your wrist. "But, I can easily think of a way for you to pay."

Now it was your turn to frown, "I don't think so." His grip tightened, promoting you to tighten your grip on your blade. Thankful it was hidden within your cloak.

"You don't have a choice", he hisses and tries to pull you off of the ground. You pull out your blade as fast as you could, using the momentum to slice his arm. The Drider hisses in pain as you scurry out from underneath him, bolting into the foliage not even bothering to look back. If you were lucky you'd be able to return for your things at a later time. But your safety was more important than your measly possessions.

You knew it was crazy to try and outrun a being with eight legs and the instincts of an apex predator. But it was all you had. It didn’t take long for the muscles in your leg to start to burn. The cool night air felt like freezing on your skin and like a fire in your lungs. And you could hear him gaining on you.

“Get back here you little bitch,” he hissed. Which only prompted you to run faster, despite how much it hurt. You could hear that he was taunting you, but you didn’t bother to actually listen to what he was saying. All you focused on was the ground in front of you, avoiding the tree roots at all costs. But what you didn’t account for was webbing. The silk was basically invisible in the dark, and thick enough to trip you.

You fall onto your shoulder with a cry, pain blossoming along your left-hand side like a spiteful flower. The branches and roots doing little to cushion your fall. Desperately you crawl to your hands and knees. Doing everything in your power to keep any semblance of distance between you and the Drider. But his laugh was already too close for comfort. Before you know it, you're grabbed by the hair and lifted off the ground. You couldn't help but scream as he pinned you to a nearby tree. His two pairs of arms being a natural advantage, "got you now."

You kick at his chest, using every ounce of strength to push him away. But it just wasn't enough. You couldn't reach for your blade, and any attempt to wiggle out if his grasp was in vain. "Let me go!"

"Yeah right, after you've cut me with your blade. Nice try you little wench, but I'm going have fun with you until you take your last breath," his grip on your arms tightened to emphasize his point.

“Put her down brother,” a more effeminate voice calls out to him. Your breath catches in your throat as the source of the voice steps out of the shadows. The male Drider was large in comparison to you, but the female that entered the clearing made him look small. Much like the male, her skin, eyes, and hair were a pure black. Instead of a red and black abdomen, her arachnid body was pitch black. As she got closer the more the male dwarfed in comparison.

“The bitch was in my territory and she cut me.”

“And now you’re in my territory and I don’t care, let her go.”

The male looks at you, then back to the larger female with a frown, “fine.” Then he literally dropped you. You fall to the ground with a whimper, using your good arm to sit yourself back up. “Why even bother protecting her? She’d make a better meal than friend.” You struggle to get up, only realizing you were caged in by his legs and the tree.

“It doesn’t matter. My territory, my rules,” she slowly walks closer. “Step away from her.” Nobody moves, especially not the male Drider. All you heard was her sigh, heavy with disappointment, then all hell broke loose. The two Driders charge at each other, the male desperately trying to claw at her before she pushes him away. You watch in fear and awe, scrambling back into some bushes for safety. The male notices you moving and tries to lunge for you, but the female beats him to it as she stands over you.

“You really want to fight your own family over a pathetic human?”

“My morals mean more to me than you ever will.” She charges him again and picks him up before slamming him onto his back. Her pincers rise as she lets out a bone-chilling hiss of anger. With ease she climbs atop him, using her weight to hold him down. Her hands swiftly find their way around his throat. His legs flail and try to push her off, and he claws at her arms. But she did not let up. Instead you heard a sickening crunch, and his legs and arms fell to the ground.

Silence surrounded the two of you as she stood up and backed away from the lifeless Drider. Her chest heaving from the action and her hair in her face. You couldn’t help but stare at her in the moonlight. She sighs and looks at you, “I promise I won’t hurt you.” You watch her legs curiously as she steps closer to you. “You are hurt, please let me help you.”

You look back to the body and ask meekly, “he was your brother?”

She nods, “one of thirty.”

Your eyes widen at the number, yet it made sense. Spiders lay a ridiculous amount of eggs, so Driders must do the same. You look back up to her as you try to stand up, “I think I dislocated my shoulder.”

“I have medical supplies back in my burrow, and light,” she smiles a little as she lowers herself down to look at you. “Can you walk?”

“I believe so, but it’s hard to stand up with one working arm.” She nods and grabs onto your good arm, gently pulling you to your feet. “Thank you.”

“Your welcome,” she smiles and gently holds your hand, “the forest will get darker the closer to my burrow we go. The trees are really thick over here.” You nod a little and let her guide you through the trees. Every time there was a log or boulder in your way she would pick you up and carry you over it. Her strength, agility, and endurance were nothing but impressive. No wonder why Driders are so sought after to be guards for nobility. Soon the opening of her burrow was in sight, a pair of bushes strategically planted alongside the opening to give it a little bit of cover.

The burrow was cozy to say the least, and was bigger than it looked on the outside. It was cool inside due to being underground, yet it was bright with the help of oil lamps and candles. The walls and ceiling were smoothed down and holding shape with the help of webbing. “Sadly I don’t have any furniture for you to sit on cause… well,”she motions to her abdomen before going to a large trunk. She pulls out a large blanket and leaves it folded up so it was like a pillow, “but this will be better than the floor.”

“I’m plenty used to sitting and sleeping on the ground by now. But thank you,” you sit down and wince as you bump your shoulder into the wall. You watch as she digs through a different trunk, reading the bottles and containers.

She walks over to you and sits on the ground in front of you, her legs sprawled out all over the place. Even without the added height of her legs she was still a few feet taller than you. If you had to guess, she looked to be around nine feet tall when she stood at her full height. “I don’t have many pain killers, but I do have a bottle of brandy if that will help.”

You chuckle as she hands you the bottle, “anything is helpful at this point.”

She motions to your cloak, “may I?”

You nod, “of course.” Her fingers were nimble as she undid the pin that held the garment closed. The cloak fell to the floor around you as she gently ran her hands along your shoulder.

“You’re right, it’s dislocated,” she offers a small smile, “but, I can easily put it back in.”

You sigh and take a swig of the brandy, “that would be greatly appreciated… After a few more sips.”

“Of course,” she chuckles and watches you drink. “I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Lalia.” You smile a little and introduce yourself as she watches you curiously. “So, what are you doing in the Bloodroot at night?”

“I was trying to sleep.”

“So you’re a traveler?”

“I’m trying to find refuge,” you wince as she lifts your arm straight. “I had to flee home because of war, and I’m just trying to get as far away as possible.”

“I’m sorry to hear of your loss.”

“It’s fine, I’m safe and that’s all that matters to me.”

She smiles a little and slowly lifts your arm, “this will hurt.”

“I fully expect it to,” you nod and close your eyes. The brandy only helps so much, even if you got wasted off of it. She notices your determination and nods. One of her hands gently resting on the back of your shoulder as she guides your bone back into the socket. You bite back a scream as you feel the bone pop back into place, then the pain immediately subsides. Simply an annoying buzz versus the piercing sensation that it was before. You let out a breath that you didn’t notice you were holding while Lalia tied something behind your neck.

She was using a scarf as a makeshift sling, “you should keep your arm like this for a couple days at least. So, it doesn’t pop out of place again.”

“Thank you Lalia, you truly are a lifesaver.”

She waves a slender hand dismissively, “it was nothing.” You glance at the claw marks that her brother had left along her forearms, the wounds already clotted. “Don’t worry about it, it’ll take a lot more than some claws to hurt me.” She gets up from sitting down and goes to put her supplies away. Now that your pain was gone, you finally got a chance to fully take in the woman in front of you.

Even in the lighting of the cave she was entirely black. Her skin, eyes, hair, and arachnid body were the color of ink. The light only reflecting off of her arachnid body made her look like she was made of velvet. Her face, just like her body, was slender and angular in nature. Then you also noticed she was completely bare, her lengthy hair being her only modesty. She was as beautiful as she was intimidating. And you couldn’t help but stare.

“Are you alright,” she tilts her head.

“Uh yeah,” a little bit of heat rushes to your face, “just the brandy is starting to catch up with me.”

“Oh,” she looks around her living space before going to a shelf. She brings back a pitcher and a cup, “water from the nearby spring.” You smile as she hands you the cup, taking a large drink out of it. Not only was your pain dying down, so was your energy. Your exhaustion from traveling the woods all day and from running for your life. Lalia chuckles as you loudly yawn, her legs making their way back to one of her many chests. She pulls out a bed roll and another large blanket from it, “I’ll make you a bed real quick.”

“I can make my own bed, it’s fine.”

“You have one working arm, I have four. I’ll make your bed.” Her tone left no room for arguing, so you simply sat and watched as she laid out the roll and the thick blanket atop of it to make it more plush. “Then you can use your cloak and the blanket you’re sitting on to cover up with.”

“Thank you, again… I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“There’s no need hun, I’m just doing what’s right.” You couldn’t help but feel a little flustered by the pet name, but you didn’t let it show. Instead you got up from your spot and made your way to the bedroll. Using your good hand to pick up your cloak. You kick off your boots, something you usually didn’t do while on the road. Then made yourself comfortable on the makeshift bed. Lalia brought over the blanket you were sitting on and gently laid it down around your feet. “Do you think you’ll need anything else?”

You arrange the blanket and your cloak to your liking, “I don’t think so.” It took you a little bit, but you were finally able to lay your head on the bedroll’s built in pillow. Which was hard with only one working arm. While you try to get comfortable, Lalia is walking around the main area of her burrow. Turning off the oil lamps and blowing out the candles, leaving only one lit so you weren’t drowned in darkness. You silently yawn as she moves about the burrow with ease. Making you wonder if it was purely by memorization or if she had enhanced night vision.

“I can feel you watching me.”

You blush as you were caught red handed, “I’m merely curious… You’re only the second Drider I’ve ever talked to.”

“I hope my brother didn’t make too bad of an impression.”

“There have been worse.”

Lalia slowly makes her way closer to you, her voice slowly becoming quieter, “I will have to go back out soon… To hunt and to claim my new territory…”

“I see, are you nocturnal?”

“Not exactly, but it’s easier to hunt at night. I’ll be sure to find your things as well.”

“That would be greatly appreciated. It’s all I have.” Her smile falters a little at your words, “no pressure though.”

She scoffs a little, “that’s not what I’m sad about.”

“Please don’t be sad for me. Like I said earlier, I’m alive and that’s all that matters to me.”

She comes closer to your bed and crouches down. Her warm and slender fingers gently brushing your hair off your face. "That is quite the noble thing to say. I don't know many people who would say that."

You couldn't help the heat that rushed to your face, "I'm nothing special."

"I would say otherwise,” her kind smile illuminated by the distant candlelight. You return the smile before having a jaw splitting yawn. She chuckles and gently pets the top of your head before standing up again. “You should sleep hun, it’s been a long day.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you sigh and you try to get comfortable. “Good luck hunting.”

“Thank you, I’ll be back before morning.” You nod and watch as she walks towards the mouth of her burrow. Your need for sleep makes your eyes too heavy to hold as soon as you lose sight of her. Despite being alone within the burrow of a Drider, all you felt was comfort.

#f drider x f reader #drider x reader #wlw #fantasy #my work #my writing #terato #exophilia #wlw fiction

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thegeneralguy · 4 years

Text

The Champion of Olympus - Ares’s Arrogance

By thegeneralguy

Revised by @amalianetwork

The chariot of the sun was finishing its daily round over Mount Olympus, leaving a crimson trail in its path. The beautiful sky was painted red, the golden rooftops of the monumental temples and lavish palaces reflecting the majestic sunset´s light. In the inner circle of heaven, the faint sound of metal clashes resonated through the cloudy hills, where all the Olympian´s residences stood proudly watching over the vast extent of the celestial realm. The furious battle cries were coming from the dominion of the god of war. The magnificent mansion stood out of the rest of the buildings due to the dark marble composing its solemn columns, along with a vibrant bronze rooftop that illuminated the surroundings in a permanent hue of carmine.

The aggressive cacophony was coming from the inner courtyard, which occupied the biggest part of the palace. Ares was in the middle of a fierce battle against two other gods, wielding his giant golden spear to strike them with fury over and over again. His extremely muscular body did not impede his battle prowess, as he gracefully danced with the spear as an extension of his limbs. Both lesser gods brandished two identical golden swords, masterfully avoiding and countering the bigger deity's attacks. With the might of his enormous arm, the god of war planted his weapon on the ground propelling himself into a somersault and successfully jumping over the two surprised beings. Suspended on the air he then knocked down both his foes with a fast sweep of his powerful leg, landing gracefully on top of them.

"Again."

He said in a gruff bass voice, his fiery crimson eyes glaring down at the two defeated gods struggling to get back on their feet. Just as they were getting ready to clash weapons again, a bright pink flash replaced the bloody red atmosphere for an instant, leaving behind the most beautiful woman in existence. Ares put down his spear and walked towards his past lover, Aphrodite. She stared seductively at her forbidden object for desire. After all the eons resisting the urge to touch again, the mighty god of war still looked as imposing as the first time they fell for each other. His white robe was perched over one shoulder, exposing one half of his titanic chest. The enormous arms he once used to crack the skulls of his enemies rippled with power, thick veins pumping the holy ichor inside of them. His legs looked stronger than the dark marble columns supporting the palace. Many mementos from his previous battles decorated his bronze skin in the form of many little marks left by the few weapons that were able to harm him.

His brutish face was half concealed by a dense black beard and had a big scar that ran across from his hanging brow, through his eye, and got lost in the hair on his square chin. His intimidating appearance was only accentuated by his bald head, along with the piercing red eyes that flared with the rage of a thousand wars underneath. He approached the goddess, putting his arm around her waist and pulling her close, only to be pushed back by her slender arm.

"You know how he gets when he knows we're together, Ares."

The beautiful deity could barely hold her urge to make love with the masculine god in front of her, but the fear was greater than any other primal instinct she could feel. Ares grunted annoyed, and let the woman out of his embrace.

"I could take on him you know, and you would be finally free. Free to be with me for the rest of eternity."

Aphrodite looked at her former lover with a deep-rooted sadness behind her dark pink eyes and raised her elegant hand to caress the god's rough cheek. Ares took her hand delicately, like a gorilla grabbing the most delicate of a rose's petals, and planted a kiss full of passion and nostalgia of an immemorial time, when they were together, on her palm. They both stood still for a moment, and then Aphrodite removed her hand from his grip and took a step back.

"You know that can't be. Even though you're the god of war and combat, you're still no match for Hephaestus's might. Remember what happened last time."

Ares's winced for a moment, his melancholic visage quickly returning to its natural angry sneer. Of course, he remembered the humiliation his brother put his own wife and him through, exposing their affair to the rest of the gods. The animosity both of his parents felt for him only increased, making the god even more of an outcast than he already was. Only his desire for the goddess of beauty was stronger than his undying loyalty for his father, trying desperately to gain his favor in every conflict. But all his attempts failed miserably, especially when his sister Athena was involved. Zeus, although prideful and violent, was a brilliant strategist and he always sided with his wiser and more intelligent daughter, often leaving the god of war hurt in his pride. He looked back at Aphrodite reproachingly, wondering what the goddess's visit truly meant.

"What are you looking for Aphrodite? If you know Hephaestus doesn't like to see you with me, what is it that brings you to interrupt my training?"

"I know how these situations tend to put you under too much pressure. I just wanted to ask what you were planning to do concerning the trial of the Champion."

"It's been a long time since father has put a challenge on all of us. This might be my opportunity to prove once and for all that I'm the one he should be turning to in troubling times, not Athena."

The god of war was a force to be reckoned with. His prowess in battle was matched by no one in Mount Olympus, and his sheer force was only rivaled by few other deities. But although he was a fearsome opponent for whoever dared in challenging him, he had one fatal flaw: his arrogance. His thirst for blood and violence, when combined with his superiority complex, bred poor choices in and out of battle, often resulting in the mighty god being ridiculed. All the emotions from defeat were only magnified by his enormous ego, creating a bitter outcast who was often ignored by the rest of his fellow deities. Aphrodite knew that deep inside that glorious body and arrogant demeanor was a deep sadness product of rejection from his own family.

"I know how you feel Ares, but I would advise you not to waste too much energy in this affair. You know how Zeus can be when it comes to a world-ending crisis. I don't want you to get more hurt…"

She then took a step forward to put her hand on his gargantuan chest. Ares quickly turned his back towards Aphrodite, unable to keep the emotions from projecting on his face.

"What do you, the goddess of beauty, know about rejection? Father is completely blind to my superior power, and it's my duty to show him he has the most mighty ally for whatever challenge he might face. I have to eclipse the other competitors to take my rightful place on his side. Especially Athena."

The rivalry between the god of war and the goddess of wisdom was not unheard of in Mount Olympus. Even the epic tales from the terrestrial plane depicted the many victories Athena had against Ares. The big scar on the god's face was an eternal reminder of the goddess's superior abilities, often fueling the god's rage in battle every time he caught a glimpse of it in the reflection of a shield. Aphrodite wasn't very keen on Athena either, often clashing with her because of their separate views on vices and virtues, but it was nothing compared to the strong hatred Ares felt for her. The goddess of beauty then took a few steps forward to stand next to the strong deity.

"I guess there is no point in trying to stop you. I would advise you to be careful though. I don't know if you noticed, but Zeus's demeanor seemed very strange during the reunion. You'd be deceiving yourself if you didn't think the ascension of a new champion is not something out of the ordinary."

The god of war stood quiet for some time, reflecting on Aphrodite's words. It was true that the ritual of ascension was a holy ceremony, reserved for heroic acts of celebration instead of an emergency of this type. The last time he tried to gift a mortal with the divine essence, he watched helplessly as his devotee was consumed by its power, obliterating him. He couldn't even remember when was the last time the ritual was successful. But all these concerns were of little meaning for Ares. Before he stood a perfect opportunity to demonstrate his power and to show his abnegation for his father.

"I already made up my mind, Aphrodite. I will personally descend to the Earth and create the best Champion there is. No one will be able to stand against him, for he will be forged by my superior power."

Aphrodite let out a frustrated sigh, knowing her attempts of dissuading the god from taking part in this ridiculous plan were pointless. This whole plot seemed very suspicious for her, but she couldn't exactly point out what was going on. If Ares wasn't going to help her find out, she'll have to resort to other more extreme means. She then looked at the two godlings standing firmly waiting for Ares's command. Both looked practically identical, standing tall and strong like their father, but their handsome faces devoid of their progenitor's magnificent beard. They also had heads full of thick dark brown curls, encasing their more youthful faces. Their muscular bodies were also covered by numerous scars, mostly done by their father's spear.

"Look at my poor children. What have you done to them, Ares?"

Phobos and Deimos were the twin children of beauty and war, born out of human's innermost primal instinct: fear. Both godlings owed an undying loyalty to their father, often accompanying him in each of his affairs. Ares walked towards them, inspecting every inch of his two soldiers, who stood there firmly in silence awaiting their father's command.

"I made them into what they're right now. Two war weapons capable of sowing despair out of mortal hearts. And it seems I'll make use of their service once again. I'm going to make use of a couple of tricks you've shown me."

"If you already made your decision, it is useless to remain here and try to convince you otherwise. Just a word of advice Ares, don't let your pride be your downfall once again."

The goddess disappeared then with a flash, leaving Ares and the two godlings alone once again. The god of war then pondered on the goddess's words, wondering if he should change his mind and challenge his father, like many members of his family were going to. He remembered an ancient saying from another mortal cult: pride goes before the fall. But he quickly dismissed any doubt circling his mind. An opportunity to gain Zeus's grace wasn't going to present itself that easily again. It was his chance to demonstrate his superior existence, and take Athena's place right next to their father. His rugged face was drawn with a sinister smile. He was going to reap a human from his sister's flock, proving once and for all who the most powerful warrior of Olympus was.

It was an unusually agitated day for Athens High. The days before summer vacation were always received with enthusiasm by the students, and relief by the faculty members. Colorful school banners announcing the graduation ceremony for the seniors decorated the hallways, proudly signifying another school year's death. Every student was filled to the brim of school spirit, enthusiastically signing yearbooks, taking pictures, and joking with their soon to be former teachers. All except one. Leon Machiavelli sat quietly at his desk, tapping his feet nervously while he waited for the ultimate call for freedom that was the ringing of the bell on the last school day.

High school could be harsh for someone like Leon. The 19-year-old always felt like a fish out of water when it came to socializing with his classmates, most of his time spent on furthering his knowledge and improving his chances of getting into an Ivy League college, finally ridding himself of the shackles that an upbringing in a small rural town in the middle of nowhere could bring. The few friendships he managed to make over the course of his years through school were few and far too insignificant to regret his choice in moving to the other side of the country and never hearing from them again. Not to mention his troubled relationship with his parents, who were concerned by their son's more hermit nature. His family had been living in that town for a few generations, owning some small businesses in the surrounding area and establishing itself as one of the most aristocratic families in the county.

The swan song of the school year chimed in the form of the bell's ring, causing excited screams and cheers from all students. Notebooks were propelled into the air, paper falling everywhere painting the floor with white. Girls exchanged teary hugs, immortalizing their last moments in the classroom with their smartphones and guys hollered and smashed against each other in fraternal hugs. Leon swiftly picked up his backpack and made a beeline towards the exit, already feeling claustrophobic in the middle of the chaos. He made his way through the sea of students, already feeling the scorching hot summer air blowing at his face. When he was just a step away from freedom, he felt a meaty hand on his shoulder pulling him back inside. He turned around with an exasperated look on his face, only to find out the hand belonged to Kevin Volker, the varsity football captain.

"Leon, bro, what's up? I haven't seen you all day."

The relationship between the hunky jock and the hermit bookworm was, to say the least, complicated. Both boys practically grew up together, their families living next to each other and going to the same school from kindergarten all through to high school. Childish wonder pushed them to form a very good friendship in their first years of development. Family barbeques, playdates, camping trips, both boys had all the necessary qualities to become the best of friends. The fact that their parents were also friends and business partners was also a good advantage for them to keep interacting almost like brothers. All their years of primary school were spent joyfully carefree, with both boys enjoying the wonder of practically living together and embarking on whichever childish adventure they wanted.

But things got different once Kevin's biological clock sent him spiraling into puberty. The gorgeous blonde boy became an athletic teenager, and his energetic nature combined with his newly acquired physical prowess turned him into a social sensation in school. The allure of the childish fantasies he used to share with his best friend was slowly replaced by the enjoyment a real-life circle of friends could bring. Kevin naturally went up the ladder of the monstrous social scale that was high school. The sports teams didn't waste any time in hunting him down, but it was the school's most prided one that caught him in the end: the football team. After just four years the cute teen had developed into a strapping young man, with an all-American jock face and a body to die for.

Watching his best friend turn into the king of school wasn't easy for Leon. The slow abandonment combined with his frustrations over his very delayed development slowly bittered him. Instead of growing up big and strong like Kevin, Leon just gained a few inches in height, but a lot of pounds in weight. He resented his friend for getting the attention of their peers and leaving him alone to fuel their fantasy world on his own. He resented his friend for gaining the grace of other students, and soon cut all ties to him. The chubby red-head grew up alone in the darkness of his bedroom, while the blonde stud dwelled in the sunlight. His natural curiosity pushed him into pursuing knowledge, far prioritizing the cultivation of the mind instead of the body. His academic achievements mixed in with his hidden frustrations bred an arrogance delusion. Leon convinced himself that he was too good for other people, shielding himself from the pain of rejection. Completely dismissing any attempt of remaining active took a toll on his body, turning the chubby teen into an overweight young man with a disheveled appearance. Every time he saw Kevin, he remembered their lost childhood and caught a glimpse of his true reality. The muscular jock served as a window of truth in Leon's arrogant delusion: his loneliness was a product of his own doing.

"I was just busy getting my things ready for tomorrow's speech. Can I help you with anything?"

He bitterly stared into the jock's blue eyes and saw exactly the look that he hated. Even though Kevin grew dismissive towards him, he never once participated in the occasional bullying red-head suffered, often offering to help out with whatever he needed. His usual cocky gaze hid a deep-set sympathy for the lonely nerd, and Leon hated that. He didn't need the sympathy of someone he considered inferior.

"No, it's all good thanks. I'm going to drive home first to pick up my gym bag, and I wanted to offer you a ride. It's too fucking hot out there, man,” said Kevin with a burst of awkward laughter. His deep voice vibrated on his chest, which twitched playfully from time to time. Leon scanned his former friend with a resentful gaze. The heavily muscled jock was encased in the trendiest designer clothes, his bulging arms threatening to rip his polo's sleeves apart, and the tree trunks he had for legs wrapped in skin-tight chinos, showcasing the deep definition within the heavy muscles. He tried his best not to stare too much into the body and kept his apathetic frown fixed on his piercing blue eyes.

"Thank you, but I'm gonna take the bus. There's some stuff in town I need to sort out first."

"That's ok, guess I'll see you tomorrow in the graduation ceremony then,” said Kevin with a subdued sigh. Leon turned around without saying anything and headed outside towards the searing sunlight. Even though he kept a straight face during the exchange with his former friend, his fists were clenched due to the anger he felt. Even after all those years, Leon's heart still skipped a beat every time the jock was nearby. No matter how much he tried to deceive himself into thinking he was the superior of the two, he couldn't get rid of the feelings he had for his former friend.

"Congratulations on the valedictorian thing by the way!"

He managed to scream before Leon was outside the door. The chubby red-head barely turned around, and with a weak thanks, he was lost in the blinding light.

The little town's main street was buzzing with activity on the hot summer afternoon. Families paraded themselves on the sidewalk, eating ice cream and letting the kids play on the numerous water fountains around the place. Little restaurants and boutiques decorated the sides of the street, offering a colorful option of both local and imported goods to the town's small population. The Machiavelli family owned many of those businesses and almost every convenience store in town. Leon was heading to the family's favored tailor to meet his mother to get his outfit for the graduation ready. After all, the son of one of the town's most important families couldn't show up in his usual disheveled state to his high school graduation. Leon always thought things like fashion and social status were frivolities, intellectually inferior people used to feel better about themselves, so he gave little importance to them. Even now on the threshold of the rest of his life, he could care less about how he looked, but his mother insisted so much that he gave in to her requests to keep her from nagging him any longer.

The little bell on top of the door chimed in when he entered the door, attracting the attention of his mother, who was enthusiastically discussing ties and bows with the tailor.

"Honey, you made it! Step in front of the mirror please, Mr. Schneider will take your final measurements."

No one would think the chubby teenager was related to the elegant woman standing next to the counter. She looked flawless despite her age and dressed impeccably no matter if she was at a charity ball or going to the supermarket. The only trait that tied both of them to each other was their fiery red hair, which she kept in a perfect updo fully solidifying her upper-class status. Without saying a word, Leon stepped up to the little platform surrounded by three body-sized mirrors. The tailor approached him, fully armed with his measuring tape and a set of pins to hold the seams and folds in place.

"What do you think of this tie honey? I think the green would highlight your…"

The excited chatter of his mother soon faded away, as Leon focused more and more on his reflection of the three pieced mirrors. It looked like puberty forgot about him in the middle of the way. He never really grew that much in height, topping at a shorter 5'5. The prominent curve of his stomach was visible through the simple black t-shirt he was wearing, deforming The legend of Zelda's Triforce symbol together with his sagging chest. His stubby arms laid powerless on his sides, and his chubby legs were hidden under a pair of oversized jeans. His pale freckled face was covered by pimples, accentuating his unclean appearance, and it still sported the signs of infancy he never outgrew, with chubby cheeks and a small nose. The most prominent feature on him was his bright green eyes, courtesy of his mother's Irish heritage, along with his unkempt red curls. He had convinced himself long ago that an unkept body was not a problem as long as the mind flourished, so he gave up on any attempt in bettering his appearance. Dwelling in his thoughts he didn't realize the tailor was done measuring and was discussing the suit's finishing touches with his mother, who didn't wait for her son's approval on the rest of the accessories.

"Is that all mom?"

He asked a bit annoyed whilst grabbing his belongings and heading to the door.

"Yes honey, I'll arrange the rest with Mr. Schneider. You will look so handsome tomorrow. I'll see you at home later."

She answered without even looking at him. Leon sighed and headed outside, not wanting to spend another second thinking in tomorrow's ceremony, and made his way towards his house.

The Machiavelli family's estate consisted of a big two-story house, a big garden with a swimming pool, and a small guest house. There was no doubt that it belonged to very affluent people. The mansion's pearl white walls reflected the afternoon sunlight, almost giving it an incandescent glow. Leon entered through the massive oak doors and headed straight for his room. On his way there he couldn't help but catch a glimpse of the massive family portrait in the house's foyer. A younger Leon smiled faintly back at him; his chubby body encased in a black suit just like his father. The elegant man looked imposing with his strong physique and masculine features. The only common thing Leon and his father had was their last name because no one would say the pale red-head was related to the mature Italian stud that was his father. His mom looked perfect as usual, leaving Leon sticking out like a sore thumb between his two impressive progenitors. He tried his best to ignore the picture like he always did and enclosed himself in his private sanctuary.

His room was decorated with posters of antique temples, beautiful palaces, and imposing sculptures. Leon's love for fantasy had slowly driven him into researching the origin of human imagination itself, and therefore human's creative history. His ultimate goal was to become erudite of anthropology, teaching and researching in the most lauded institutions on the field and finally gaining the recognition of better people than the small-town folk he loved to look down upon. He sat down on his desk to revise his prepared speech for the graduation ceremony one last time. Despite his parent's best effort to dissuade him, Leon was willing to perform a bitter soliloquy expressing his frustrations against his classmates and solidifying his status as the class' arrogant intellectual. Beneath the snarky remarks and morality lectures written on paper, laid a profound pain product of his loneliness. His train of thought slowly brought the image of Kevin into his head again. Leon was going to finally be free of watching him blossom more and more every day. But even if he moved across the country, he was still unsure he would ever be able to forget the handsome jock. After all, despite the endless hours he spent convincing himself Kevin abandoned him out of malice, he was the only person Leon ever loved.

The chubby red-head barely gave any thought to his sexuality. He considered any kind of lust as a distraction, a primal burden that impeded the full growth of the human psyche. Unlike practically all of his classmates, he wore his virginity as a badge of honor, his mind completely clean of the stain of sex. But despite trying his best to suppress his natural urges, the thought of Kevin always came through inside his head. The connection they shared when they were children still transcended the barriers Leon tried to put up to elevate himself. And the fact that the handsome jock looked like a classical Greek sculpture come to life didn't help the lascivious thoughts leave the nerd's mind. Leon tried to hate Kevin as much as he could because if he didn't, he would become the ultimate shackles preventing him from breaking free from his small-town life once and for all. The last golden rays of sunset light came into the room through the big windows, illuminating the red-head's face. His gaze was glued to the sheet of paper in front of him. This speech was an ode to intellectual growth, and a farewell to the life Leon chose to leave behind. He went into bed exhausted, nervous about the events coming up the next day. It was going to be the last time Leon Machiavelli graced his classmates with his thoughts. Afterward, the only way they could catch a glimpse of his brilliant mind was either buying his future publications or listening to his TED talks.

It was past midnight when Leon was woken up by a shiver down his spine. The pale moonlight illuminated his bedroom, casting out gruesome shadows out of every corner. The nerd had the feeling something was staring at him from the darkness. The entire room was scorching hot, despite the cold night air flowing through an open window. A low animal growl attracted Leon's attention towards the darkest corner in the bedroom. His face went pale with fear when he discovered the two big glowing red eyes staring at him maliciously. A black figure slowly crept out of the shadows, making itself visible thanks to the white moonlight. Leon stared speechless at the giant black dog growling at him menacingly from the other side of the room. His big snout was curled up into an angry snarl, making the dagger sized fangs visible. The terrified nerd was petrified in his bed, unable to muster the minimal courage to even scream for help. Without taking his eyes off of him, the black dog spoke with a deep man's voice.

"When the time comes, follow me. I will give you what you want"

And as soon as it appeared, it melted into the shadows, leaving the red-head alone to faint out of the fear he just experienced.

The golden rays of sunlight in the late morning woke Leon up, who groggily rubbed his eyes and got up. Despite sleeping through the night, he felt exhausted. He was unsure if what he saw in the darkness had been real or just a product of the stress before graduation. He looked at the clock on his nightstand, only to realize he had slept through his alarm and was already running late.

"Damn it"

He yelled exasperated as he jumped out of bed to get ready for his ceremony. He splashed some water face and combed his red curls a little bit just to hide the mark the pillow had left on his head. One of the maids brought up the finished suit his mother had bought the previous day. It was a beautiful dark grey suit, Italian cut, with an emerald green tie and a handkerchief to match. He quickly put it on, feeling it snug against his body. Despite the suit being tailored to his exact fit, the outward curve of his prominent stomach was still visible, putting a slight strain on the buttons. The emerald green tie did highlight his eyes, just like his mother told him before buying it. He took the cards for his upcoming speech and made sure he had everything ready for the ceremony. On his way out, he looked at his reflection on the big mirror in the hallway. Even after neglecting his appearance today, the beauty of the suit made him look almost distinguished. He felt strong, ready to sever his ties to this town and his past. It was going to be a memorable day, marking the beginning of his new life.

He arrived at the ground floor of the mansion, only to find it empty. A small note was laying on top of the little table next to the entrance.

"Your father and I went to the club for a quick workout. We'll see you later at school. Tell Charlie to drive you there if you don't want to take one of the cars."

He crushed the little note on his hands, feeling a pang of pain due to his parents' absence. It wasn't unusual for his mother to delegate accompanying him to the chauffeur, but Leon thought the day of his high school graduation was going to be different. He quickly dismissed any sorrow from his head, replacing it with a fiery determination. His speech today was also inspired by his aloof parents, who barely gave their only son a second thought. He looked at the big family portrait one last time. With this suit, he might have looked a bit like he belonged, but he knew the truth. His destiny was far away from this little town, which was below his expectations.

The school was buzzing with activity, with teachers running everywhere getting every last detail prepared, and students getting their graduation robes ready for the ceremony. Colorful banners decorated the main courtyard, where a scenario with a podium and a line of seats was built. The many rows of chairs in front of it were already filling themselves up with enthusiastic families, readying their cameras for their children's special moments. Leon scoffed at the scene, thinking how sad it was that this was going to be the only highlight in their offspring's life. He picked up his robe and valedictorian sash and headed towards his seat. In the distance, he saw Kevin arrive with both of his parents. The gorgeous stud was impeccably dressed in a beautiful sapphire blue suit. Every muscle was perfectly framed and enveloped in the expensive fabric, accentuating the dramatic angles his body formed. His dirty blond hair was perfectly styled in his usual messy style, and his white smile beamed stronger than the sun itself. Leon couldn't take his eyes off from his former friend, making an inhumane effort to remain focused on his goal. This day was going to be about him for the first time, not about Kevin.

The ceremony began after all the attendants took their seats, with the principal opening the day with a generic speech about school spirit and class fraternity. Leon fiddled with his cards nervously, the pressure of his big moment slowly starting to overcome him. He couldn't help but ask himself if he was willing to pull through it. After all, his classmates were still people deserving of respect, even if he considered them intellectually inferior. But then the memory of Kevin laughing with all of them, sharing the fabled fraternal bond the principal was talking about, and excluding Leon from their circle solidified his decision. The words he was going to say could be harsh, but it was something he felt entitled to share.

"And now, please welcome the Athens High class of 2019 valedictorian, Leon Machiavelli."

The sound of the applause woke Leon up from his daze, as he stood up and made his way to the podium. All the eyes in the audience were for the first time focused on him. The scorching sunlight made him feel a little light-headed, his hair matted with sweat, and his body sticking uncomfortably to his suit. He looked at the seats below him, squinting his eyes due to the sun's intense shine. All of the chairs were occupied, except two, very close to the front rows. Leon let out a sorrowful sigh, the last ember of hope of sharing this moment with his parents dying. He put his cards down, took a big breath, and started speaking.

"My fellow students of Athens High. The promised day is finally upon us, the day when we will finally take flight and begin the rest of our lives. Most of you don't even know who I am, but after today you will never forget my name. When I was writing this speech, I couldn't help but notice a few ironic facts that I would like to share with you. It is fitting that our school mascot is an owl because that is how I've felt all these years. I've dedicated countless hours to quietly observing your behavior, your desires, and every intricate social structure in our school, and I can't help but feel immense gratitude. Thanks to all of you, I've blossomed into the epitome of human intelligence and wisdom that I am today. And let me tell you why. After a long analysis, I've come up with the conclusion that my greatest fear is becoming as simple as one of you…."

Something beyond the sun's glare caught his attention. At first, he thought it might be a mirage caused by the burning heat, but the more he focused on it, the clearer it became. A shadow beneath a far tree looked eerily familiar. Leon's hands started to tremble in fear, as he recognized the black dog from last night staring at him from the distance, its glowing red eyes visible through the blinding sunlight. His entire speech suddenly vanished from his mind, together with the fleeting empowerment he was feeling moments ago. He fumbled nervously with the cards, only to drop them by accident.

"You….uh…..I…"

The echoes of his nervous words coming from the speakers resonated through the courtyard. Curious eyes focused on Leon, who quickly turned into a sweaty mess. He looked at Kevin in the front row, who had a worried look on his face. He felt a shame he had never felt before. Being humiliated in front of half the town was the last thing Leon wanted. He searched for the dog again, only for it to vanish without a trace. He looked at the public in defeat and managed to scavenge some last words to minimize the embarrassment.

"I want to thank you all for coming. Enjoy the rest of the ceremony."

With those last words, Leon left the podium and sank into his seat, wishing for the earth to swallow him. The principal took the microphone again and followed through with the protocol.

"Thank you, Leon, for those, uh, inspiring words. And now, we will present the students with their diplomas."

Leon sat in his place quietly, staring at the green grass. In his mind, the only thing that was present was the horrible feeling of embarrassment. Everything he had planned; all the preparation and previous excitement had been for nothing. The muffled sound of pomp and circumstance blasting out of the speakers was all he could hear, as the principal went through the line of students calling each of them to the podium and shaking hands with them. One face still stood out from the rest: Kevin's. One thing was failing in front of his classmates, but failing in the presence of the person he wanted to impress the most made everything worse. Now Kevin would never find out how well-off Leon thought he was despite being abandoned by the handsome jock. Somewhere inside the cacophony governing the courtyard, he heard his name, and without taking his gaze off the ground he stood up and picked up his diploma. He gave the principal a weak handshake and quickly slid back into his chair. This moment was indeed immortalized in his mind, but not in the way he intended.

Once all students got their respective acknowledgments, the ceremony ended with Oxford caps decorating the sky accompanied by deafening applause. Families reunited in the whole courtyard, hugging and blasting pictures everywhere. Leon was still in his seat when he saw both his parents approaching him.

"Honey, sorry we're late. How was your speech,” asked his mother without any hint of remorse in her voice. Leon was used to being left behind by his family, but this time he felt actual pain. If his parents were there, the only people with whom he shared some kind of superficial connection, he wouldn't have felt so helpless in the aftermath of his speech debacle. He looked up at his parents with cold wrath in his eyes, tears starting to slowly well up inside them.

"I don't ask much of you. I don't mind when you hide me at your parties, or when you go on extravagant trips without me. I just asked for your presence for one day. One day."

His reproaches were met by the unchanging poised faces of his progenitors. His mother was the first one to speak.

"Honey, not here. People are looking,” She said with a simulated smile.

"I don't care about your deluded picture of perfection, mother. You ruined the last time we were going to connect as a family. And for what? A sauna bath in your pretentious club."

His father's petrified face showed a glimpse of anger. The Machiavelli patriarch had never been very fond of his only child, considering him a nuisance and a liability for their public image. Leon just didn't fit well as the heir of the family's fortune, completely lacking charisma and skill to lead. In his eyes, the only thing his son did was cower behind his infinite collection of books in his room.

"Quit whining, Leon. You should be thankful your mother and I made time to come and congratulate you. Now, let's take a picture. We will discuss this back at home."

Leon's last hope of acceptance from his family died as soon as the flash from the camera was gone, his young heart completely overtaken by the coldness of rejection. His aloof parents then proceeded to greet the rest of the attendants. The young nerd felt completely lost inside the crowd. All he wanted to do was to get back home, pack his bags and leave on the next bus out of town. While he was analyzing the best way to scurry out of there, a sapphire flash caught his attention. He then looked towards it, only to find out the colorful splash of light came from Kevin, who was heading into the school through a side entrance. At first, he didn't pay too much attention to it, but then he saw the black dog from earlier following the handsome jock. After some consideration, Leon managed to conjure the courage to follow Kevin into the building, worried about what that black creature could do to his former friend. He pushed the door and entered the school's auditorium, only to find it dark and empty. The light to the locker rooms was on, so he made his way through the big hall towards it.

"Kevin? Are you in here?"

His nervous voice echoed through the rows of metal lockers. The air in the room felt damp and heavy, the lingering musky smell of sweaty athletes permanently staining the atmosphere. Something else was mixed in the aromas, a metallic scent, like rusted metal. He hesitantly stepped further into the locker room, his only companion being the sound of his footsteps on the tiled floor. The cold lights flickered from time to time, giving the entire scene a very ominous appearance. He turned around the corner and finally found Kevin in front of the sinks. He was staring emptily into the mirror, completely unaware of Leon's presence. The young nerd was terrified but kept approaching the young jock.

"Hey Kevin, are you alright?"

He said as he put a sweaty hand on Kevin's shoulder. He was able to perceive a red flicker on the jock's icy blue eyes, and then Kevin reacted to his touch.

"Leon, what's up? You look scared bro, are you alright?"

He said casually beaming his celebrity smile towards Leon, who just stared completely puzzled at the handsome jock.

"I saw a black dog follow you into the auditorium. Have you seen it?"

"Black dog? Bro, I really think the heat has started to affect you. I just came inside to freshen up a bit, but I haven't seen any black dog."

"But I swear I saw it come inside, I was a bit concerned it would attack you or anything. That thing has been roaming around school premises since the ceremony. I saw it during my...."

He made a pause, remembering the events that had just taken place moments before during the ceremony. The rage product of his humiliation returned to him.

"During my speech. Never mind, I can't say I'm surprised you're unable to notice even the most obvious things."

Kevin's smile faded from his face, his gorgeous gaze gaining the depth that bothered Leon so much because it made him care for a person he had convinced himself was below him.

"Leon, bro, I know things haven't been okay between us for a while. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel bad or something. I was just going with the flow, I never intended to hurt you. But I can't keep myself away anymore. If today is about a cycle, then there is something I need to set straight between us."

Leon's cold gaze lightened up a bit, curious about what he was talking about. He had never seen Kevin this nervous before. The young jock stared at the floor and fiddled nervously with his hands. The words came out a bit forced out of his mouth like someone was making him recite a memorized confession.

"I need to tell you something, but not here. Come to my place tonight for the party. Everyone will be there."

"I don't know Kevin. Parties aren't really my cup of tea…."

The handsome jock put his strong hand on Leon's shoulder and gave him a mischievous smile that not even the nerd's toughest defenses could resist.

"I promise to make it worth your while."

Leon hesitated for a second, completely incredulous for what he was hearing. He had already decided not to go to the party, but the day was not going according to plan. He could feel his heart beating almost out of his chest, excited and intrigued for whatever the jock was going to tell him.

"Sure, I'll see you there."

An eerie spark lit up behind Kevin's blue eyes, but Leon was so dumbstruck he completely missed it.

"Sweet bro, I'll see you later then. Nice clothes by the way."

Kevin then pulled the smaller man up for a hug, smothering him with his strong body. Leon could feel the hardness of his muscles through the expensive blue fabric. The jock then made his way towards the exit, leaving Leon in a disoriented haze. For a moment he completely forgot about the gruesome black dog and his failed speech, all he could see in his mind was Kevin's gorgeous smile.

The sun was already setting when Leon arrived at the Volker residence. Many groups of his fellow students were approaching the mansion through the extensive courtyard, already with some drinks on their hands. The young nerd hesitated, his social anxiety crippling him for a moment. He still despised the rest of his class and saw no point in trying to interact with them. If he was going to this party, it was for Kevin only. Maybe something good would come out of this terrible day after all. When he crossed through the house's massive portal, he was immediately assaulted by an explosion of light and sound completely overwhelming his senses. A sea of young adults covered the big parlor and the adjacent rooms, drinking and dancing like there was no tomorrow. The big chandelier hanging from the ceiling was adapted to flash beams of light of different colors in all directions, and a DJ booth was installed on the far end of the formal living room, blasting some modern music Leon couldn't recognize. He was an absolute amateur when it came to partying, so he felt lost and scared inside the crowd. He tried looking for Kevin everywhere, but due to his short height, he wasn't able to look past a few heads before him.

Leon approached the drinking table and ordered a soda. He tried to find a quiet corner to drink in peace before resuming his search for his former friend, but everywhere he looked was swarmed by the inebriated guests. He was quickly losing his patience, as he was pushed around by the dancing crowd over and over again. Somehow, he found his way to the big spiral staircase leading to the upper floors and jumping over the barrier to keep attendants on the ground floor, he quickly went up a few steps to get a better overview. Despite gaining the higher ground, his attempts in finding his friend proved unsuccessful. He was about to give up and head back home defeated when something caught his attention through the mahogany banister. The monstrous-looking black dog was staring at him from above, its glowing red eyes visible despite the chaotic party atmosphere. After making sure the nerd saw it, it walked further up the stairs into the second floor.

Leon remembered what the beast had told him the night before, and followed it into the higher level of the mansion. Once he made it to the upper floor, he saw the dog walking through a long hallway and entering the furthest room. The young nerd continued his pursuit and found himself in what he assumed was Kevin's room. The lavish bedroom was decorated with all sorts of trophies and medals, as well as an entertainment system appropriate for an active teenager. Leon's attention was drawn to the row of portraits on the big bookshelf. Pictures of young Kevin in all sorts of family trips and sports events were displayed in delicate frames. One picture, in particular, stood out from the rest. Leon couldn't believe his eyes as he took the silver frame in his hands and stared at the photograph. A young Kevin had his arm wrapped around a young Leon, both sitting on top of a rock next to a river. They were laughing, radiating genuine happiness through the picture. Leon couldn't believe that after all those years, Kevin kept memories from their childhood so close to him. The young man the nerd considered his bitter rival and enemy never antagonized him.

The big glass door to the balcony opened suddenly, letting a warm gust of wind into the room. Leon put the picture back in its place and headed outside. The stunning twilight sky was painted in different shades of red, showering the scenery with crimson rays of light. The hot summer breeze rustled the leaves on the trees surrounding the properties, producing a serene sound that drowned the music from downstairs. The nerd stepped on the balcony, and finally found what he was looking for. Kevin was standing on the edge of the marble banister, watching the beautiful sunset.

"Kevin?"

The handsome jock turned around to face Leon. The only thing the young nerd could see were the icy blue eyes inside his former friend's shadow, his silhouette completely encased in a red halo product of the dying sunset.

"I knew you would come. Come here, I want you to look at this."

Leon stepped forward, taking place right next to the handsome jock. Kevin flashed his regular charming smile at the nerd, who instantly turned red as a beet. For an instant, he was thankful for this unusually bright sunset that hid the blush on his cheeks.

"I wanted this evening to go perfectly. And now that you're here it's finally complete."

"Just tell me what you want Kevin. We haven't talked in years and suddenly you take interest in me. I just want to know why."

Kevin diverted his gaze into the sunset, suddenly turning serious. Leon could see the distress in his eyes.

"I never lost interest in you Leon. It was you who pushed me away. You were the one that decided to stop hanging out with me."

Leon clenched his fists in anger, the painful memories of his friend exchanging him for more popular friends still poisoning his mind.

"How dare you say that! You were the one that went away, that grew into…."

He made a nervous pause, uncertain about what he was about to say. The wrath inside of him made him spill out the words without thinking.

"Into a mindless meathead. Look at us, Kevin. Your physical prowess is unparalleled, that's a fact. But I got what truly matters: a brilliant mind. I have preserved my psyche in the best way possible. I've resisted the allure of petty teenage necessities. And now, I'm in the way of becoming one of the most brilliant thinkers in recent years!"

Kevin turned around to face the angry nerd, who was on the brink of tears due to the pent-up rage he was feeling.

"Is that what you truly want bro? It sounds very lonely to me."

"I don't need anyone. Soon, I'll be where I'm supposed to. I don't mind being alone."

Kevin grabbed Leon's arm, pulling him closer. The nerd could feel the intense heat radiating from the hunk's body. He stared directly into his former friend's blue eyes.

"Are you sure you want to be alone? I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I got all the attention I want, from anyone. When you look like me, it's an easy task."

He said flexing his meaty arm, straining the soft blue fabric on the sleeves of his suit. Leon couldn't take his eyes off of Kevin's body, completely mesmerized by the jock's posing show. He failed to notice his friend's eyes shining in a dark red shade from time to time. The jock's voice turned from warm and concerned, into cold and aggressive.

"No matter how much you lie to yourself Leon, you want to be like me. To finally be accepted by everyone, including your parents. Picture it for a second. Finally, be worthy of being called your father's son. What use is your intelligence to the Machiavelli family, when you lack the courage to destroy your fears? Truth is, you're no more than a resentful dweeb."

Kevin continued flexing, taking off his suit's jacket, his movements starting to take on a seductive flair.

"Stop it. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course I know. I know everything about you bro, including your darkest secret."

Leon suddenly opened his eyes like plates, completely incredulous for what was coming out of the jock's mouth. It was impossible anyone knew how he felt about Kevin, he didn't tell anyone. Kevin smiled with a hint of malice, knowing he had Leon right where he wanted him. His blue eyes now shone in a permanent crimson hue.

"That's right, I know that you like me. Your mind is indeed a complex maze, but no psyche cannot be cracked open. I could feel the fear of being discovered practically pouring out of your pores."

Leon looked down in defeat, feeling the embarrassment bubble out of him. He knew this was too good to be true. Kevin approached Leon once again, taking his chubby face with his hands and pulling it up to face him. The nerd's green eyes were pooled with tears.

"There's no reason to be miserable. The reason I called you here tonight was to tell you I feel the same way about you."

Leon couldn't help but open his mouth incredulously, his mind still registering the words that just came out of the jock's mouth.

"Wha—what?"

"I've also never connected with anyone the way I connected with you. You know the real me, buried beneath this sculptural body. That means I also know the real you. You don't have to be alone."

The young nerd's sad frown slowly turned into a smile. His face was inches away from his friend's, feeling the jock's hot breath on his skin. And then he smelled it. The same metallic smelled he caught in the locker room back at school, only this time it was much more intense. He also took notice of Kevin's glowing red eyes.

"Wait, this is not right. What's happened to you?"

Kevin's grip on Leon's face tightened, his face gaining a sinister flair.

"I'm exactly who I'm supposed to be. The question here is: are you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you who you are supposed to be? I know the real you is buried beneath this intellectual façade. We just gotta pull him out."

Kevin started caressing Leon's overweight body, rubbing his torso over the suit's jacket. The young nerd was giving in to the moment, closing his eyes and enjoying the sensation of his friend's strong hands on his body. One last glimmer of resistance made him suddenly pull away.

"No. I don't want this. I'm above these carnal sensations. I've never done anything with anyone."

Kevin smiled, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt, exposing the ripped divide of his upper chest.

"I know you're a virgin, I don't have any problems with that."

"But I do. I don't want it to be this way. If it ever comes to it, I want it to be special."

Kevin's confident smile quickly disappeared, replaced by a displeased scowl.

"Look at this Leon. The sunset, the balcony, the hot summer air. You said it yourself, this is the end of one phase of our lives. Isn't this special enough for you?"

"I don't know Kevin; this doesn't feel right."

"Look, it's very simple. I want to be with you, and I know you want to be with me. I just need you to renounce this ridiculous virtuous perception of your virginity. Give in to your flesh, and your body will become what you truly desire."

"My body is okay as it is."

Said Leon embarrassed by the remark of the increasingly impatient jock.

"You know it isn't. All these years you have deceived yourself in thinking you value the brilliance of your mind when in reality it's what has alienated you from everyone. Relinquish that notion, and you shall have everything you desire."

The nerd looked at his friend nervously, completely unsure about what he wanted. He thought he was sure about who he was, but what Kevin said was true. What's the point of intelligence if all you need to be accepted is purely physical? Was brilliant wisdom worth the loneliness? While Leon dwelled in his thoughts, a shadow materialized on the corner behind him. What first looked like a black dog slowly grew into a human form, taking the appearance of an extremely muscular young man, his body full of scars. He planted his crimson red eyes on Kevin, who nodded in agreement as his face grew more sinister.

"I'll make it easy for you. Kiss me. If you do, I'll know you're ready to take the next step and leave your old self behind. You'll finally be better than anyone else, just like you wish. Be warned though, there will be no turning back."

Leon was then assaulted by all the painful memories of his past. The loneliness of growing up as an outcast, the abandonment of his parents, and the disconnection from everything and everyone started crushing him. He had an opportunity to have what he truly wanted, not what he convinced himself he wanted. Hypnotized by the jock's supernatural gaze, he approached his friend with determination. Standing on the tip of his feet, he placed his lips on his. Black smoke started enveloping them, completely encasing the entire balcony and isolating it from the world. Leon felt butterflies in his stomach, as the kiss continued to gain intensity. A scorching hot feeling started seeping into his being, product of Kevin's mouth. When he realized what he had done, it was too late. He was completely under the control of the handsome jock, who started to take on a dominant role, aggressively pushing his tongue into the nerd's mouth. The last thing he consciously realized was what that taste in Kevin's mouth was: blood.

Energy started seeping into Leon's body, slowly impregnating his being. He was lost in the intense feeling his connection with Kevin was causing. The waves of power-hitting his body started making his blood boil, turning his body into an incandescent mass. He was sweating profusely, as the energy coursing through his veins unleashed different chain reactions in his cells, resulting in a vastly increased metabolic rate. The fatty deposits inside of him started to melt away, vaporized to fuel the nerd's body's incredible energy demand. His pants fell, as the rest of the suit started to hang loosely from his body. The formerly chubby red-head was left practically only in skin and bones. Kevin broke the kiss and looked at what his friend had become. His green eyes were dull and lifeless, and his formerly round face was left looking severely malnourished. He smiled victorious, knowing the spell was doing its job. He needed the man in the back to complete the transference, so he called him forward to participate in the passionate scene.

Kevin took his finger, rubbing it on his friend's lips seductively, as the muscular man in the back slowly pushed down the shoulders of the now skinny nerd to the ground. In one swift motion, the handsome jock ripped his pants off his legs, exposing a menacing bulge that was quickly gaining size in front of Leon's entranced gaze.

"Is this what you wanted? To serve and pleasure me?"

Asked Kevin dominantly, looking down at his friend. Even though Leon was still watching everything going on, the sensations in his body were driving him like an automaton. A part of his consciousness still resisted, yelling desperately that he was better than what he was becoming, but it was slowly getting smaller as if it were burned away by the divine energy coursing through his veins. He answered in a stupefied voice, unable to resist the temptation

"Yes."

"Wrong answer."

Said Kevin fishing out his manhood from his briefs and putting it on the nerd's open mouth. The same metallic taste accompanied by other muskier aromas immediately assaulted Leon's senses. He licked and tasted the meaty tube inside of him, desperately worshipping it with his tongue. The scarred man behind him then pushed his head further into the jock's crotch, making him swallow the entire seven thick inches at once. Kevin then proceeded to drill inside his friend's mouth with aggressive thrusts back and forth. Each time the phallus penetrated the nerd's mouth, the pressure inside of him caused his bones to elongate. Each limb stretched several inches, along with his spine, leaving the nerd with over a foot and a half extra height. The hands holding the jock's legs cracked and grew, along with his formerly small feet. Once his skeleton stopped breaking, the scarred man pulled Leon to his feet, his pants staying on the floor. There was a fight between bliss and misery inside of him, causing a blast of emotions that quickly flooded his head. It was like his mind was inside a pressurized pot ready to explode.

"You are the one that has to be served and pleasured. You have to conquer fear."

Kevin lifted the now taller red-head with supernatural strength and flipped him around, exposing his naked rear. Leon fell forward, grabbing on to the scarred man to remain on his feet, and felt the scorching hot head of his friend's member rub menacingly on his crack. He desired him more than anything in the world, his carnal passion completely overtaking his puritanical nature.

"Once we finally break your mind, you'll be able to become the god you were chosen to be."

And with those last words, Kevin impaled his friend mercilessly, getting one last howl of agony out of the nerd. Leon felt as if a dam had broken inside his head, flooding his mind and washing his old self away. Kevin's thrusts started pumping more divine energy into the red-head, which traveled inside his body filling out his newfound emptiness. Pure pleasure caused him to moan loudly. His blood pumped new power into his whole body, causing his muscles to twitch and ripple responding to the strength. His glutes were the first part of his body to expand. The handsome jock's phallus was quickly being swallowed further by two inflating globes of muscle. It looked like he was humping a pair of overgrown watermelons. The growth spread down his legs, filling out his quads and hamstrings with thick columns of muscle, growing as thick as two oak trees. Deep cuts were etched painfully on them, the skin stretched to its limits over the massive muscles. His calves grew to match the upper legs, gaining enough size to rival a football. His feet expanded to accommodate the still coming weight.

The pumped energy seeped simultaneously into his core muscles. Veins started gaining thickness the more power flowed in them, changing the muscle underneath. His lower back took the form of a large spearhead, two pillars of muscle slowly crawling up his back. His lower abs popped into existence, framed by two increasingly large obliques. First two, then four, then six, and ending in eight grenade-sized bumps on his stomach. The muscular pillars on his back started flaring like two flags, spreading growth into the red-head's lat muscles. The suit's jacket couldn't resist the growth for long, shredding itself to pieces revealing the sweaty skin underneath. Kevin grabbed the growing back with lust, feeling the searing hot muscle underneath move and inflate. The man's lats spread wide like a fighter plane, the muscle fibers fighting to fit into the already large frame. Mountains and valleys decorated the expanse of the magnificent back before the thrusting jock.

His chest was the next to grow as if gravity was pulling the muscle downwards. Two massive slabs of flesh etched themselves in Leon's upper torso, increasing his weight and making him widen his stance to find his new balance. The inflating pecs rose higher too like they were trying to reach his chin, while the lower parts expanded themselves reaching the limit of the red-head's anatomy. Once the veins reached his shoulders, these exploded in growth, reaching the size of an ancient Grecian helmet. Divine blood pumped into his arms, his biceps swelling to the size of big cannonballs. His triceps expanded underneath his arms, quickly adding girth to the now powerful limbs, reaching the size of a Howitzer cannon. His lower arms etched themselves with strong sinews, growing as wide as baseball bats. His hands hardened and swelled with new strength, gaining the power to crush the hardest skull with ease.

Thick veins traveled up his neck, followed by thick muscle cords making it seem more like a bull's neck than a human's. Once his Adam's apple finished its transformation, his high moans of pleasure slowly turned into a low manly grunt. Muscle piled into the squaring jaw, giving him a cartoonishly hyper-masculine look. His cheekbones rose higher, and his nose grew and broke, filling in with thick tissue. His forehead expanded further, hooding his eyes and giving him a menacing look. Kevin accelerated the rhythm, reaching the mortal limits of his body.

"Taste true power brother, and take your place above those beings you always deemed inferior."

With one final thrust, he emptied his burning load into the titan in front of him. The divine seed seeped into every tissue, making his body gain even more thickness than before. The muscles gained the strength and prowess of the best warrior the world had ever seen. The essence then corrupted what was left of his being, turning him into a new deity. Blood flowed out of his pupils, forever turning the former green eyes to an intense crimson hue. A new personality engraved itself in his head, growing increasingly aggressive the more he became aware of his existence. His puritanical nature was replaced with an insatiable lust for flesh, either in sex or in battle. His enviable knowledge was replaced by a killer instinct that made him a fearsome foe for whoever was misfortunate enough to challenge him. Eons of battle techniques and combat prowess flourished inside of him, aging him into a man in his masculine prime. The former erudite was reborn in the form of the fiercest warrior in the world. And as such, his nature turned dominant, making him displeased about the situation he was in. He stood up, now much larger than the two other men next to him.

"That's more like it,” He said in a deep voice, flexing his new muscles. Kevin and the other man stared triumphantly at their creation, watching the giant relish in his raw strength. They both felt a psychic bond form with the titan, now that he gained dominion over them. The former Leon turned to face them, his glowing red eyes staring at the scarred man with lust.

"I'm still not quite there yet. Come, brother. It's your time to serve me."

He pushed the muscular man on the banister and grabbed his own still tiny penis. He could barely hold it with his massive hands, the 4 inches stuck out barely enough for his fingers to grab. With inhuman strength he pulled the muscular man's ass apart, exposing the coveted goal for his manhood. He managed to penetrate the scarred man, and another wave of pleasure assaulted him, making him roar in bliss. He started thrusting into the man with such force it started cracking the solid banister underneath. The lesser deity moaned delighted, as he felt the member inside of him grow further, pushing deeper into his body. The titan's phallus grew to heroic proportions, gaining almost 8 inches in length and resembling a thick torpedo. The balls slapping the man's muscular thighs expanded as well, dropping lower to bovine proportions. New hormones started pumping into the giant, altering its appearance even further. Kevin watched smiling as his red curls receded a bit on his head and turned pitch black, along with his eyebrows, which grew thick and arched themselves upwards. His face started taking on a more exotic look, his lips thickening and his nose growing a bit more. The black bubble around the fornicating gods started breaking, dark smoke seeping into every pore of the giant. His pale skin darkened to a light brown, and dark follicles started popping out of his entire body. His manly jaw was quickly covered by a shadow, which grew into a magnificent black beard. The hair was so thick the skin underneath was not visible. A carpet of black hair covered his body, growing thicker on his crotch and under his arms. He kept thrusting with increased fury, feeling his own divine seed churn in his balls. He was drenched in sweat, a manly aroma quickly surrounding him. He smelled like old iron, like burnt gunpowder, like a warrior in his prime. With a powerful roar, he exploded inside the scarred man, fully cementing his new birth as Assad, the king of war.

The scarred man dropped to the ground completely exhausted, leaving Assad standing naked under the crepuscular sky. The jock scanned the titan from top to bottom, savoring every aspect of the new god before him. Assad barely gave him a second look, his old knowledge and memories gone.

"Father will be very pleased."

"Indeed I am."

A bone-chilling voice came out of the shadows in front of them. Assad watched as the god of war emerged from the darkness in his full glory. Ares rarely smiled, but he couldn't help to curl his lips up a little bit once he saw his sons' creation. He was right in delegating his power and the transference to them. Assad immediately fell on one knee, bowing respectfully before his master.

"You bred it into a full warrior, well done."

Kevin just smiled solemnly, accepting the god's compliments. Ares suspected the chosen one had to renounce voluntarily to his virtue to achieve its fullest potential. That is why he let the natural lust do his task for him. He provided the essence; the rest came from the new champion.

"Ready to serve milord.” Said Assad without lifting his gaze.

"And you will. I gave you a new life as a descendant of humanity's most powerful warriors, and in exchange, I own you now. There's something I need you to do. If you succeed, you will be allowed to take a place next to me as a worthy god. I want you to destroy the goddess Athena."

Ares then took his spear and cut his arm open. Ichor fell to the ground, taking the shape of a golden sword. Assad took the weapon in his hand, feeling its power course through him. A shining bronze armor formed around his torso, along with a helmet and a red cape. Ares was satisfied by the look of his new pawn.

"Meet me in Greece, by the feet of Mount Olympus the night of the next full moon."

"Yes, milord. I won't fail you."

With a powerful kick of his legs, the giant leaped into the sky, disappearing in the red horizon. Ares approached the banister and stood next to his sons, watching his creation advance towards his destiny.

"You can get off that meat suit now, Phobos."

Kevin's face produced one last sinister smile, as a dark shadow stepped out of him, his body falling to the ground completely unconscious. The black mass took the form of another overly muscular scared man, identical to the one still laying on the ground.

"This was way too easy, father."

"Don't be arrogant. Influencing a mortal's free will is no easy task. It's different than just persuading them with fear, as you might know."

"I didn't have to do much. This mortal in particular had very strong feelings for the champion. I just had to break his self-control barrier a bit. And I admit I let him feel some of the pleasure too, although I'm sure Deimos there had way more enjoyment."

Ares stood silently staring into the sunset. He made sure he created the best warrior of them all. He proved that the virtues so dearly preached by his stuck-up sister were vulnerable to his raw strength. He chose to let the champion be corrupted by his own desire. This was going to be his opportunity to eclipse his siblings and get his father's acceptance. He looked at his son, able to see the beauty underneath the godling's intimidating appearance. Aphrodite's image came back to him, remembering the unbreakable bond both gods possessed. He wondered if she would be capable of moving against Zeus. The goddess of beauty was not to be underestimated, so Ares spared no effort in creating the best Champion he could to compete.

"So, you interfered with the mortal's love interest. Your mother wouldn't approve."

#musclegrowth #transformation #championofolympus

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thewheezingwyvern · 4 years

Text

Giveaway Prize

Congratulations to my follower giveaway back in December to @engel-hageshii. Thank you so much for your patience but I have your match up fic and headcanons! I hope you enjoy it!

I match you wiiiiith.....

One of the biggest reasons I came to this match up is your caring spirit. You’ve made it very clear that you long to protect and look after the people closest to you. Not only do you try to protect them, you actively try to build them up, help them grow and try to do what you can to make them happy. I think Tamaki would really grow to admire that about you and find you strong for doing so. Initially your quiet and reserved nature would be an obstacle since Tamaki is a shy sort and would likely not try to break through that barrier on his own. However after the two of you acclimated to each other, and your more easy going personality comes out, I think he would get smitten pretty quickly but would hold onto those feelings forever and a day.

ღYou two met to take down a dangerous black market arms dealer that was able to avoid legal ramifications. Since you were a vigilante and had a teleportation Quirk, you were ideal for breaking in to a compound and finding incriminating evidence and leave it somewhere public so the cops could formally take him down.

ღ Because you were a Vigilante, he knew he really should be repeatedly seeing you casually. So Tamaki found himself coming up with reasons to meet you and spend time with you.

ღ Tamaki started a habit of bringing extra snacks ever since you showed up for a mission together and you hadn’t eaten. He kept doing it because it was the only gift he could muster the courage to give for a while.

ღ The first time he actually did get you gift, it was of a book that you had rambled about wanting to check out to make conversation. Tamaki had to hide his blush when he saw the way your smile lit up.

ღ One mission you accidentally teleported them both into the river and it was a cold day. The two of you spent the rest of the evening huddled up in his apartment, wrapped in warm blankets and drinking hot cocoa.

Kinks: Daddy language, slight bit of choking, shower sex, tentacles, Quirk play

Word Count: 2.3 K

┌─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┐

Teleportation had been an extremely useful Quirk for you and your Vigilante career. And it had proved to pair very well with Suneater’s Quirk since the two of you had started teaming up to take down exceptionally tricky Villains that managed to evade law enforcement. It had helped you dodge lethal blows, teleport key items to safety and even just save you a few steps up a flight of stairs when you were exhausted. Really it was a boon.

But every Quirk had a drawback.

This time it came in the form of you standing naked in the middle of a running shower, hot water sluicing down your back from the shower head and a cloud of steam wafting around you. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, teleporting without your clothes but it had been a long time since the last incident. That alone would have been ok but you weren’t alone. Hot embarrassment flooded you, your eyes growing wide at the sight. You were staring into the bright red face of Amajiki Tamaki. Silken black locks moulded to his skull beneath the heavy embrace of the water that drenched him. The rush of water hummed through the air, sheathing your skin in a dewy sheen.

“B-b-b--”

“Tamaki!” you squealed.

Mortified, your hands flew up to cover your bare chest, a fresh wave of heat crashing against your cheeks. But immediately you remembered that your lower half was still very exposed and your hands flew down in a panic to cover yourself. Tamaki had already whipped around, a bright red blush all the way down his neck by the time you had settled with an arm wrapped over your chest and the other hand shyly dipping down to cover down low.

“I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-I god I’m so sorry.”

Tamaki screwed his eyes shut, feeling his cock twitch against his abdomen. Trembling fingers knotted into fists by his sides, gross embarrassment overwhelming him along with the distressingly powerful urge to turn around and touch you. To kiss you like he’d wanted for months. Would you accept him? Did he even dare to ask you to stay?

He could hear your hands clamoring along the rail of the sliding door, glass panel shrouded with condensation. Before you could slip out or even open the door, Tamaki closed a hand around your wrist, face still a mere inch from the shower wall. Weeks he had fantasized seeing you like this, having you this close to touch and taste and he couldn’t just let you go that easy. The feel of your pulse beneath his fingers was a grounding sensation but with it, he found his own heart rate spiking. The tiny whisper of his voice that had been bubbling in his throat rapidly withered and left him silent.

“Stay.” he uttered out to you in the tiniest voice.

It was such a quiet request that was nearly drowned out by the pounding of the water. But you heard it. That little plea had you freeze in place, fixated on the feel of his skin against yours. The red of his face and neck only deepened as he struggled to find his voice again. There was a fine trembling in his hands that you could feel and that was enough to grant you the barest sliver of strength to find your own voice.

“T-Tamaki?”

Hearing the quiver you spoke with, the quiet lilt of curiosity had his blood running hot. Desire was the flame that urged him to turn his head slowly until he was peeking at you from over his shoulder. Dark eyes flickered, wreathed in the red flush of his embarrassment. The pro hero swallowed the lump in his throat, fighting against the urge that he had to withdraw into his shell. The opportunity was one had only dreamed of and he just couldn’t let it slip away.

“B-butterfly..p-please stay…”

Butterfly. It wasn’t the first time that you had heard that nickname but he wondered if you realized yet that butterflies were his favorite. He wondered if you realized just how much he wanted to kiss you whenever you were really close to him on missions. You were a vigilante, he shouldn’t be yearning for this but you had somehow dominated his thoughts anyways. Thunderstruck you stared for a moment, unable to believe what you heard. When your brain finally grasped what he was asking of you, you grabbed a bottle of body wash and squeezed a healthy amount into your palm.

Working the thick cream into a lather, you set to work gliding your hands along his back, feeling your fluster increase with every stroke. The muscles cording along his shoulders were more defined than you had thought they would be, but hero work did have it’s way of carving strength into your body. Diligently you worked the suds down his arms, feeling your body grow hotter and his own tense beneath your touch. Tamaki swallowed thickly. It was hard for his mind to not wander, to meander down the path of you slipping your hands around to his chest. Your fingers would linger, following the shape of his pectorals before trailing downwards to relish in the lines of his abdomen. His cock twitched again at the thought.

Tamaki took a deep breath and turned around, desperate for you to touch him more but also burning to lay eyes on you again. Despite turning his front towards you, the pro still had his head turned to the side, finding himself far too embarrassed to meet your gaze. A soft gasp caught in your throat when you caught sight of his very erect cock. You pulled back your hands abruptly, worried you would try to take things too far and touch where it was unwelcome. But one of your wrists was captured in his grip before it was pulled slowly back to his torso. Tamaki was even brighter red, face still turned to the side so you couldn’t meet his eyes.

“D-don’t stop…” he stuttered out to you, his voice barely above a whisper.

A pair of hands settled onto your waist, long fingers gripping you firmly with a force that would have made him seem confident had you not known him. Tamaki pulled you closer with a gentle strength. The scent of his body wash, a pleasant blend of rain and bamboo, wafted over you both in a cloud. Having you wrapped in his own scent left him feeling more aroused. It was an unseen mark he left on you, a claim that marked you as his. The increase in desire for you left him emboldened and suddenly you were pressed against his front, hard cock twitching against your lower abdomen.

“I need y-you, Butterfly.”

His lips tentatively found yours, hot tongue swiping at the seam of your lips for entry. It was pure bliss for him when he realized you did not hesitate before allowing him to deepen his kiss. Your lips were even softer than he had thought they would be and the sheer sensation of your tongue lapping and twisting with his kindled the fire that burned in him. Passion burst in sparks and it drove Tamaki to cradle the back of your head with his right hand while his left mapped out a path to the dip in your lower back. With a firm tug and a strength that betrayed his flustered appearance, he pressed you even more firmly against him.

“Butterfly…” Came his hoarse whisper when he pulled away for air.

The moment felt like it was his first glass of water in days. The feel of your skin against him was nothing short of divine and he needed more of it; more of you. Open mouthed kisses were pressed to the curve of your neck, tongue tasting tenderly along your pulse. That was when he felt it: your hips rocking against him as you desperately sought out the sweet friction that you longed for against your clit. Tamaki was moving suddenly, guiding you back and to the side until the slick tiles met your back. Steam swirled around the shower as your thigh was guided up to hook around narrow hips.

“I-I want to be inside you...Is that okay?”

“God yes! Tamaki…” You kissed him with fervor, “I have wanted this for weeks!”

Tamaki’s breathing grew ragged. Weeks. The lilt in your voice painted with the sound of desperation was velvety rich against his ears. The way you touched him, kissed him, it was all intoxicating and he wanted every drop of yourself that you were willing to give. A hand dipped between your legs, fingers stroking along your sopping folds. The slick that had gathered was hot and in abundance and it had his cock twitching for you.

“Is this all for me?” he asked in awe, a smile spreading on his face when you nodded, “This is for you.”

The same hand that had played with your needy sex shifted his dick until the head nudged just into your slick heat. The long groan you gave, pussy quivering around him, was a siren song to his ears. It lured out the temptation that grew inside of him, made Tamaki want to fall even deeper into you against the voice in his head that urged him to take it slow. You deserved it slow. But god he was so hungry for you. The way your pussy was trying to greedily suck him in only made his heart pound and his hands shake.

“You’re so beautiful…” those lips kissed at the shell of your ear, “A p-pretty little B-Butterfly just for me.”

“Why a butterfly?” you asked, a groan escaping your full mouth when he suckled at your earlobe, “Why that nickname?”

Tamaki pulled back, face flushing bright red again before sinking his cock deeper into your velvety heat. With a loud moan and a gasp he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You felt so perfect. He’d come too far to back out now from telling you the truth so he took a deep and steadying breath, kissing softly at your skin.

“Because they’re one of my favorites.”

Tamaki rocked his hips in slow strokes, dick dragging along your walls in perfect bliss. The hot water pounded against his side, sending a find spray falling over you. Being out of the direct stream of the shower brought a chill over you, even as the hero continued to thrust within you. But the chill also pebbled your nipples to hard little peaks, perfect little nubs for his fingers to toy with. Hero work left his fingers mildly calloused, creating a delicious rasp against your sensitive buds and it immersed you in an even deeper pleasure.

Courage took hold of you then, “Tamaki...have you had any calamari today?”

Black eyes hazed with lust bored into yours. Realization bloomed clear and bright in his gaze, hips jerking once more to sheath himself fully into your heat, “Yeah…”

“Will you use your tentacles on me?”

The question, murmured in earnest, sent another sharp spike of arousal spearing through Tamaki. For a brief moment he hesitated but the grip of arousal had greatly diminished the doubt and anxiety that would have normally hung over him like a cloud. His fingers shifted on his command into long, wriggling tentacles, snaking around your torso as he continued to thrust up inside of you. A coil slipped up the skin of your back only to creep around your throat, squeezing lightly in a move that left you more helpless within his grasp. The rapid shift in power balance had you leaking around the thick cock that was moving inside of you. And it was this shift in dynamic that loosened your tongue for him.

“Ohhh-ohhh Daddy, yes! Harder-!”

Dark eyes shot wide open and that was the point that tipped Tamaki over the edge of his composure. The feral roared to life in his blood and suddenly his thrusts grew faster and rougher, a low growl escaping his lips. Slick tentacles twisted around your bared breasts and squeezed, tips fluttering over your pebbled nipples to only add to your burgeoning pleasure. Another long coil twisted its way down to press against your neglected clit, twisting circles around the sensitive bud.

“Ah-! B-Butterfly..! Clench around me just like tha- ahhhh!” his breaths were coming out in ragged pants, “Kiss me.”

You obeyed without question, pressing your lips to his, allowing his tongue to crash against yours as he continued to thrust inside of you. Every part of you was awash with pleasure and stimulation, tightening that coil in your abdomen as you drew closer to the edge. Bamboo and rain wafting over you in a cloud. The tentacle around your throat squeezed, not painfully tight but enough to make it just a bit harder to take in a proper breath. Tamaki decided that filling you with his cock wasn’t enough. With a passing thought, his left hand shifted as well, fingers morphing into curling tendrils, suction cups slowly dragging and catching on your skin.

You squealed into his kiss when first one, then two tentacles pushed their way into your quivering sex. Deliciously full and rapidly growing drunk on the feeling of those tentacles pressing against that spongy spot within you, you bucked wildly to reach your release. Tamaki released your lips just in time to hear you howl in pleasure, white spots dancing before your eyes. The way you creamed around his cock had him close to bursting but there was one final push to come for him.

“Daddy ahhhh-!”

That was when hot seed burst from his swollen tip, flooding into your clenching pussy. When the two of you grew still, mouths parted with heavy panting he withdrew his tentacles. Tamaki didn’t give you time to feel achingly empty before he pulled you into the shower stream, embracing you tightly beneath the hot water. The hug was crushingly tight, almost like he thought you’d disappear if he let go.

“B-Butterfly will you...s-stay with me tonight?”

Your shaking fingers threaded through his drenched black hair before you whispered back to him, “I will. As long as you want.”

#BNHA #BNHA smut #BNHA matchup #Tamaki x Reader #Amajiki Tamaki

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omg-imagine · 4 years

Text

⊱ Dirty Dancing ⊰

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Request: Please I'd like a Ke smut fic where he arrives home while Reader is listening music and doing a sexy dance (she wears a beautiful dress) and stares at her watching her dance moves, she notices him and they end up making love -Anon

Warnings: Smut

Words: 1.6k

A/N: Yiiikes I’ve neglected my requests for too long and I’m super sorry about that! I’ll be working on the two remaining in the upcoming weeks. Also, I added another anon’s request for neck kisses on here too. Hope you enjoy!

Shutting off the car’s engine, the sheer exhaustion from shooting long, grueling hours for the last three months was finally catching up to Keanu. Though his body desperately craved hours of fitful sleep, he chose to ignore it and prepared himself to see you instead.

In a state of utter weariness, he managed to drive across the city during rush hour just to have dinner with you tonight. He had missed you dearly throughout the entire time he was away and could no longer bear being apart from you, the most precious person in the world who ultimately held his heart.

Arriving at your house a half an hour early, Keanu wanted to surprise you. With a fresh bouquet of flowers in his hand and a bottle of your favorite red tucked securely under his arm, he quietly let himself in through the front door using the spare key you had given him.

From the foyer, he could already smell the enticing aroma of food wafting in the air. Stomach grumbling, he padded down the hall leading to the kitchen where the sound of music grew louder with his approach. Keanu’s lips quirked into a delighted smile as he rounded the corner, and his eyes widened at the surprising sight of you dancing to the lively beat.

For now, he decided to stay hidden in the shadows, his mind rapt at the way your hips sashayed to the seductive song blasting in the background. Donning a sexy, figure-hugging red dress which he hadn’t seen you wear previously, Keanu couldn’t tear his gaze away as the deep bass thudded through the walls. Still unaware of his presence, you exuded utter confidence with every rhythmic sway and dip of your alluring body, the sensual scene sending jolts of arousal through him.

Breath hitched in his throat, Keanu could feel his trousers tightening when he noticed the skirt of your dress had ridden up a little higher on your thighs, exposing more of your soft and supple skin. All he could think of at that very second was ripping your clothes off and taking you right then and there. Three months without having you had made him very impatient and very desperate.

Eyes devouring every inch of your beauty, Keanu thought about how dinner would surely be off the table for the next hour. He had forgotten how tired and hungry he was, a surge of energy and desire taking over as a result of watching your enticing show. Presently, his burning need inside was reserved for you and you only.

“Holy shit!” you gasped after you finally glanced over to where Keanu was and caught him standing there, an irrepressible smirk flashing across his face. “God, Ke. You scared me.”

“Don’t stop on my account,” he chuckled lowly while sauntering into the kitchen, placing the items he brought on the table.

Lowering the volume of the music, you then smiled at him once he reached you. “You’re here early. The chicken is still in the oven cooking.”

“I wanted to surprise my best girl,” Keanu replied, leaning down briefly to peck your lips. His hands slowly ran down the side of your body before settling on your hips. “Is this dress new?”

“I got it this morning,” you answered sweetly. “You like it?”

Keanu nodded, mouth ghosting down your neck. His breath tickled your skin as you released a soft moan when he pressed his body against yours, letting you feel the hardness between his legs. “I love it, and seeing the way you dance in it? That was very hot and entertaining as you can tell.”

“How much did you see?” You questioned, slipping your palms under Keanu’s shirt and noticing the glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Most of it. You’re a damn good dancer, baby. An incredibly sexy one, too.”

“Perhaps I should give you a private show next time,” you suggested with a sly wink, fingers rising to tangle themselves in his hair. You tugged on them the slightest bit, just enough to elicit a reaction from him.

Abruptly, Keanu then smoothly lifted you up in his arms, placing you on the cold, granite countertop of the kitchen island. He stood in between your spread legs, leaning down and trailing moist kisses along your jaw and collarbone. His hand began to hike your dress up, revealing your laced panties to him as his mouth moved to that sensitive spot behind your ear.

Keanu’s breath was warm and ragged on your skin as he whispered, “Definitely next time. Right now, I’m going to show you how much I enjoyed that little show of yours.”

Lips locked in a deep, fervent kiss, Keanu wasted no time touching you wherever he pleased. Hearing your hum of approval, his long digits skimmed up your inner thigh agonizingly, swallowing the airy moans escaping your throat. You cried out the moment he pulled your underwear to the side and slid his fingers inside your dripping cunt, your wet walls instantly squeezing around them with a vice-like grip.

It had been far too long.

Pulling back, Keanu’s dark, lust-blown eyes held your half-lidded gaze as he pushed in his dexterous digits until he was knuckle-deep before drawing them out almost teasingly, causing you to whine and writhe underneath him uncontrollably. Eventually, he gained speed, alternating between finger-fucking and stroking your clit as you quickly came apart with his hand alone.

Your eyes were clamped shut, chest heaving unsteadily as Keanu retracted his thick fingers from your core. Smiling, he licked the slick essence coating his fingers, its divine taste both tangy and sweet on his tongue, a flavor that was uniquely and delectably yours. Still lost in your post-orgasmic haze, he deftly unzipped the back of your dress, allowing him to easily remove it from your limp body.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, drinking in the bare sight of you. “You’re so beautiful, baby. I’m a lucky man knowing that you are all mine.”

“I’m yours,” you breathlessly added. “Please, Ke...”

Peeling off his shirt, Keanu stepped back, and then asked huskily, “What do you need, sweetheart?”

“You…” you sighed, watching as he unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants along with his boxers down, freeing his hard, pulsing cock. “I need you, Ke. I need you inside me.”

Giving himself a few languid pumps with one hand, Keanu swiftly slid your panties down your legs using the other and tossed it somewhere in the room. Sitting up, your hands gripped the edge of the counter, waiting in anticipation as he guided his tip to your heat. Slowly, he sheathed his cock inside of your pussy, and immediately it stretched to accommodate his girth.

As he bottomed out, you placed delicate kisses down the column of his neck, and he nearly purred at the sensation. No matter how many times you and Keanu made love, he surely could never get enough of you. He would cherish each moment of it, whether it would be rough and fast or sweet and slow. What he most cared about was simply you and making sure you felt loved and adored with every fiber of his being.

You lied back down on the counter as Keanu hovered over you, his hips beginning a delicious rhythm that had you mewling in seconds. He knew the two of you wouldn’t last long, not when this was your first time together in months. Soft grunts filled your ears as he thrust in and out of you, his control gradually slipping the more you whimpered out his name.

“P-Please, Ke,” you begged, digging your fingernails into his back as he lowered his lips to yours. The pleasure was becoming too overwhelming, leaving you unable to form a coherent word, but Keanu knew precisely what you needed.

“I-I’m close, baby,” he warned, his movements faltering as the tightly-wound up coil in his stomach began to unravel much like yours. “Come with me. Go ahead, let go. Let go for me.”

With a shuddering breath, you shook in pure ecstasy while you came around Keanu’s cock. You managed to keep your eyes open long enough to watch him reach his own high, his face contorting with bliss as he released hot spurts of his cum deep inside of you. Satiated, Keanu slumped forward, carefully not to crush you as you both tried to regain your senses.

After some time had passed, he gently withdrew his softening cock from you before grabbing paper towels to clean yourselves up. Keanu then helped you hop down from the counter, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him into a passionate kiss once your feet touched the tile floors. You only broke away when the oven timer suddenly dinged behind him, reminding you of the dinner you were prepping before his arrival.

“Chicken’s ready,” you mumbled against his lips. “Are you still hungry?”

“Starving,” Keanu laughed before reaching down and retrieving your discarded red dress from the ground. “You should probably hang this up for later.”

“Later?” Your brows rose in curiosity. “You want me to wear it again later?”

“Yes,” he stated, dipping down to kiss you breathlessly again. “You did promise me a private show, and I want to see you dance with this on again.”

“What if I danced with nothing on?” You proposed with a teasing tone. “How would you like that instead?”

Nodding, Keanu’s lips curved upwards, already feeling himself harden by the mere thought of it. “I’m really glad to be back home.”

“Me too,” you agreed before stepping in to close the distance, your lips connecting one more time.

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @rdjloverxxx @flaminasteroid @lussdew

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves x you #my fics #reader insert #rpf #request

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wajjs · 5 years

Note

There's this pull, this unnamed drive, that is pushing him closer so subtly he can barely tell. Like an energy no one dares to acknowledge, borderline otherworldly, tiptoeing the limit of super and natural. There is this pull and the pull is within a range of all things, wickedly divine.

But perhaps divine is not quite the right word, because it might not adhere to those that believe there is no place for anything holy among all this humanity, among all this mess. Perhaps the word he's looking for is inevitable, maybe undeniable, maybe overbearing, all-encompassing.

Inescapable.

He longs to fight this force, to resist the pull, and yet the harder he tries the more violently this centripetal energy drives him in, coils him (tight, tightly, tighter) around the very center. And right there, at its core, it is bleeding, it is breathing, it is shining away life and shadows.

If Gotham's a force of nature, so much akin to gravity itself, then he is the very apple succumbing to its rules and desires. He's quick to discover that here, designations are different, expectations unknown, successions unquestioned. He discovers that here there is little sense in trying to stop the fine things set into finer motions, even with his otherworldly strength, even with all his power, here he is nothing but a man brought upon his knees. A man with a heart that beats and skin that is warm. A man that yearns the sight his eyes see. A man starving, yet still clinging onto a frail little semblance of control due to sheer pride.

When his fingertips find themselves feeling the not untouched, far from pristine, skin of sharp hips, it's like the very universe is slowing down, like he's coming down in one too many levels. The contact is the kryptonite of his thoughts. His touch is reverential and firm, yet unafraid to pull the body closer to his, to bring their point of union fully to him. To settle deep inside.

The whine that earns him is the sweetest sound he's ever heard, the rarity of a delicacy, the ghost of a promise in the dusk of fulfillment. A smile dances upon his lips and he shifts again, grinds himself home, sheathes in and pushes out in a practiced motion, one ingrained in his very bones. The young man is on his knees and hands, legs spread open, eyes ajar. The curve of his spine is that of pleasure, the hitch of his breath is the one of fire. Of desire so deep it runs black, red and blue. So deep it runs to never end. And he's a starved man, a denied one, and he's developing an ever growing addiction.

Maybe it's half as much about the innate pull as it is about these moments, in many beds, with always the same bodies, with desperation that varies in degree of intensity. Maybe it's half as much about the gravity innate to Gotham, that impressive force always driving his wandering steps back to this point, point one - or point zero - out of a hundred to come; maybe it's half as much about this gravity as it is about the yearning that goes without name, the pain that is too fresh, the love that binds and knows no end.

So he shifts his hips till they are still inside, pulses hot and sticky, brings back to chest and feels against him that wonderful shudder that always wrecks the other, always so sensitive, always so eager and such a breathtaking work of art. It makes his name come out as a whisper, a needy utterance of the sounds of each syllable, the one thing that makes him consider: what if I had you, what if you allowed me, what if we were to keep entangling ourselves until it's just the two of us, until you forget.

Lois said his love knows no limits.

He's unsure whether this is truly that.

A third pair of hands snaps him out of his hold, makes him remember to lay the spent body back down atop the disarray of blankets, sheets and fluids. One of them then reaches out, touches his cheek, trickles across his jawline, reminds him that he should breathe, perhaps, breathe and accept what comes with breathing: the scents, the return of each and every sensation. Clear eyes meet clear eyes, no cloud of storm or rain, only the mist of want. The thin lips on a pale face stretch into the semblance of a smile and he's stricken by the undeniable rush of being known. The experience of seeing his reflection in irises shrouded by knowledge and years of silently watching, eagerly seeing, always registering.

"Give me a moment," the one between them, face partially smudged against a stray pillow, speaks then, making the two of them look down and smile, "and I'm good to go again. Wait. Maybe five."

"That's alright, Jason," he says, chest feeling broader, and can't quite stop himself from redirecting his sight to their point of union as he begins pulling out - he misses the heat immediately, wants to be wrapped up in it again, yet he knows it is too early in the dawn for them to fall into overstimulation. That will have to wait. Perhaps this might also be one of those encounters, too. "You were wonderful."

From where they are kneeling on the bed they cannot miss the way the tips of Jason's ears grow red. His honest reactions to praise will never grow old, unlike them. He is heaven and the promise of time in their hands.

"You always are," the other's voice is barely above a whisper, still so loud it drives them into silence, one charged with so much care, such deep longing...

Clark can't help but think, when the three of them are in these moments, how can they not see? How can they lose sight of this, of their hearts and minds, whenever they stray two steps too far from the doors to the many bedrooms they've been in? If every instance carries vulnerability and every day there is gravity pulling them closer, how can they damn each other when they both feel so much devotion and so desperately?

"Bruce," Clark finds his lips moving before he's even finished thinking his words through and through in an attempt to be clear but also be mindful of the sensibilities the two men before him have, "you are always watching."

Your eyes are on him, always, is what he manages to swallow down before sound hits the air. You are devouring him with your sight.

He doesn't say what he means and halfway means what he says. The stilling of Jason in the grasp of his hands lets him know that this too hasn't gone unnoticed. It's to be expected when he's in bed with two over analytical minds.

"Does it feel good?" he asks and smiles to soften the blow, sky-clear eyes glinting. "To watch?"

"Clark," Bruce pushes out the name like a warning. Jason laughs a little, a rattled sound, lifts his head just enough so that his eyes meet Bruce's from underneath his lashes. A look both Bruce and Clark have been confronted with enough times to know clearly what it means: got you.

It's clear in the relaxed line of Jason's shoulders. In the way his heartbeat stays even, a companion and steadying drumming to the widening of Clark's smile. Because many times it has been said his smile is a superpower on its own, yet there aren't enough odes about the leverage Jason's eyes have on Bruce - the way one look can make the mightiest of them all crumble down to their knees. And here is the evidence, the two of them, with him, always looking for him.

"Allow me," Clark breathes out, gives Jason's hips one last squeeze. "Let me feel that pleasure."

Jason rises from between them, slow and sinuous, a perfect flow of movement. He rests a hand on Bruce's left thigh, squeezes, and leans closer with no mercy, armed with a killer smile.

"Yeah, B," he chuckles, eats up the little suppressed groan Bruce lets out when Jason's other hand goes straight for the gold and wraps around that delicious heat, so hard and wet, "let's give him a show."

#blob writes #clarkjay #brujay #superbat #clarkbrujay #this is as suggestive as it gets from me fjskdnandsk #also kuro i hope you like this!!!!!!!!! stopping this from getting out of control was hard ajdksjfjdkn #but listen i have Ideas now for a possible sequel #jason meeting up with clark after he has another fight with bruce and they end up having some good comfort sex #and the next day clark has to tolerate teasing from lois because 'clark you are weak for anything that has the wayne name'

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kyleoreillysknee · 5 years

Text

Kinktober: Service Top Kyle

Pairing: Kyle O'Reilly x OFC (Amanda)

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 1,684

A particularly grueling day left Amanda’s arms infused with lead and her feet replaced with cinder blocks. By the time she dragged herself home, she could only crumple onto their bed face first and groan out something closer to the death rattle than human speech. Kyle entered the bedroom, ruffling his damp hair with a towel about to lament that he was long overdue for a haircut before he caught sight of Amanda doing her best impression of a corpse. The bed dipped with his weight and he chuckled when she slapped a hand out from under her and made a grabbing motion. His fingers naturally laced with hers as he leaned over her to nudge her head to the side with his cheek. She let out another groaning grumbling whining noise and huffed some of her hair away from her mouth. Kyle settled for lifting the back of the hand he was holding and pressing a kiss to it while using his free hand to excavate Amanda’s face. To show thanks, she mumbled gibberish.

“Could the zombie controlling her body give me my girlfriend back please?” Kyle teased with a boyish grin as he reached out to gently start pushing Amanda onto her back.

“She’s dead,” Amanda huffed with melodramatic flair, keeping her eyes closed as she limply let Kyle maneuver her however he pleased.

“That’s a shame. I quite liked her.” As he spoke, Kyle shifted on the bed to take her feet into his lap, took off her socks, and began massaging her legs. The banter died as Amanda became capable of only humming in delight. His large hands made quick progress up her legs, magically able to seek and destroy all the knots of tension until Amanda was rendered a purring puddle of contentment. Kyle grinned, extremely satisfied with his work, and moved on top of her, shifting her thighs to box his torso.

“There you are,” He framed her face with his hands before dropping down to press a quick kiss to her cheek.

Amanda let out a pleased whine, eyes still closed, before puckering her lips like a fish and making kissy noises. Kyle burst out laughing at the sight and she languidly cracked open one eye to grin back at him as he lowered himself once more. They manage to kiss through each other's smiles and with a tilt of his head the kiss ebbed into something more heated. Amanda reached up to loop her arms around his neck but Kyle caught her wrists and slowly moved them until he had her pinned to the bed with her hands above her head held down with one of his hands. She let out a low moan as Kyle brushed her bottom lip with his tongue before catching it between his teeth and gently nibbled it. By the time he pulled away to let them breathe, Amanda was writhing against him seeking any amount of friction to distract her from the sheer amount of arousal coursing through her. Looking up at Kyle didn't help as his brown eyes were completely blown out, appearing almost black, and he was staring at her like she was a meal he didn't know where to start with.

"These stay here," he rumbled, giving her pinned wrists a gentle squeeze before lifting his hand in order to slip it under her shirt.

"You're so beautiful," he mumbled softly to himself as he drank in the sight of her barely trembling, barely able to keep herself in check and he has only just started. He felt her thighs squeeze against his hips every so often and he flashed a knowing smirk just as his fingertips brushed against the underside of her bra. He deftly pushed her shirt over her chest and snuck his hand behind her back to undo the bra clasp in record time then pushed her bra up and off her breasts. Amanda kept her gaze on his face as his eyes dropped and his tongue peeked out to wet his lips.

"Touch me," she whispered, already breathless despite him not doing anything, Kyle's eyes flicked back to her face and he raised an eyebrow expectantly and she hurried to add, "please?"

He gave a little nod and smile, shifting so he could trail a mix of wet kisses and soft bites along the curve of her ribcage as a hand cupped her breast, his thumb ghosting over her peaked nipple. She gave little gasps and choked out moans that went straight to his cock and as he kissed his way up her sternum he pressed himself down against the bed to keep himself in check. His fingers occupied themselves by toying with her nipple as his mouth covered the other, using his tongue tip to trace around it before gently sucking and using his teeth to tug on the bud. The noises she was making now almost had him lose his composure and rush things but he knew a little patience was going to be worth it.

As he was moving to attend equal attention to her other breast she gasped out, "Kyle, I need you-" a moan interrupted her begging as he nipped the inside flesh of her chest.

"I know what you need." He all but growled firmly before taking her neglected nipple into his mouth. Amanda was writhing against him, rolling her hips against nothing out of desperation but she made sure to keep her wrists firmly above her head. She wanted to touch him, run her hands through his hair, drag her nails across his scalp and down to his shoulders, but she knew there would be consequences to breaking his rules. Delicious consequences but she didn't need further punishment after her day, they both knew that.

Kyle lifted off her body, discarding his shirt before he focused on getting her out of her pants. As he hooked his fingers under the waistbands, he locked eyes with her and they both held their breath for a moment as a wave of electric longing surged between them. The tension fizzled when her pants became tangled around her ankles and refused to come away smoothly. Kyle chuckled as he yanked one leg free while she giggled and kicked until her pants were flung off into some corner to be forgotten. His pants came off with little effort but much to her disappointment the boxer briefs stayed on.

He reached up to poke at her pouting bottom lip with a grin, “use your words.”

“Please?” Amanda tried but was answered by Kyle shaking his head while his fingers trailed down her chin to her throat, past her collarbones, over her stomach to settle on tracing along her hip bones.

“T-take off your boxers,” her voice caught in her throat as his fingers moved to her sex, “please.” It came out weak as Kyle swiped along her folds before straightening. He made a bit of a show of licking his fingers clean while his other hand tugged down his underwear. He didn’t give her a lot of time to drink in the view as he surged forward, covering her body with his. A hand moved down her thigh, fingers digging in and leaving scorching trails before taking hold of her knee and urging her to hook her legs behind the small of his back. The other hand slid up the bed until he reached her hand that was twisting the sheets in anticipation, threading their fingers together after he coaxed the fabric from her grasp. Kyle bit down on his lip to stifle his noises as he slid into her and she let out a truly satisfied moan that made it damn near impossible to keep his composure.

Once completely inside, he pressed his forehead to hers and waited until the sharp edge of bliss dulled enough to let her open her eyes. He felt one of her heels dig into his back and breathlessly chuckled at her impatience but got the hint nonetheless. Maintaining eye contact added a level of difficulty to rolling his hips as she felt positively divine it was almost overwhelming. He knew he was doing something right as she was making these little whines and gasps that drew out a growl in response from him. He felt her nails sink into his shoulder and his hips snapped forward automatically, ignoring the fact that she was breaking the rules. Her grip on his hand became lax as she was bombarded by too much at once when he picked up the pace, dropping his head to nuzzle into the curve of her neck and letting his teeth glide across the delicate flesh. She dissolved into a series of babbled pleas and his name repeated like a broken prayer. That veneer of control rapidly crumbling, he reached down with his spare hand and held her hip, adjusting the angle ever so slightly. He grinned into her shoulder as the action forced a short screech from her that descended into a string of curses.

The only warning he had was his name choked out and her nails clawing up his back. Amanda’s body arched up and she seemed suspended in time before collapsing into a series of spasms that drew him to orgasm with her. Kyle cut off his shout by biting down on his lip, surging his hips into her one last time and forcing his arm to vibrate with the strain of supporting his entire weight. After the wave of euphoria washed over them, he made sure to topple beside her and hissed as they came apart. With their fingers still laced together, he drew her closer and peppered her face with kisses until she was giggling.

“You should go to the bathroom,” he mumbled before sitting up and searching the room for where the hell he tossed his underwear.

“When I can feel my legs,” Amanda replied sleepily, wearing a cat like grin and stretching out across the bed. She burst out laughing when she caught sight of Kyle fist pumping with his boxers in his hand.

#lemons kinktober #my writing #kyle o'reilly #kyle o'reilly x ofc #kyle o'reilly imagine #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #nxt imagine #nxt fanfiction #kyle o'reilly smut

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theateared · 4 years

Text

What a Pretty Sight. ❜

Summary: Grace tries to entice Edgar into staying. Unbeknownst to her, Edgar has already decided to stay, and for reasons she isn’t privy to.

Warnings: Sexual themes, general slowburn frustration.

_____ 【 🞮 】 _____

Come back soon, Eddie… I want to see you tonight.

The words had been running rings around his brain all day. The more he thought about Grace Adler, the more frustrated he became. He’d been all too prepared to walk away once he’d gotten his fill of her, but something kept him from leaving. Though he tried to tell himself that he was clueless as to why, he knew exactly - he just hated to admit it.

I love her. I don’t just want to fuck her, I love her.

Though he knew he should have kept his distance from then on, he’d been unable to. Dinner dates and sweets; starlit nights and open conversations; picture shows and hand-holding, touching each other longingly at the back of the theatre; dirty whispers and heaven-sent sighs of pleasure; desperation from both sides - something that Edgar hadn’t bet on when he’d first started to pursue her.

They had an inn of choice at this point whenever they wanted to spend nights together. She refused to do it in the upstairs quarters of the tavern, and he couldn’t say that he was too fond of the idea either. Somebody else could see you naked. I don’t want them to see you like I do. It was a modest little place, barely housing a bed, dresser and bathroom, but it suited their needs well. As he entered the room, more than a little eager to see her, he set his eyes on a beautiful figure with a greeting that trailed into silence.

“... don’t just stare, idiot,” she muttered, though her eyes remained coyly on the floor as she let him look to his heart’s content. Picking out flattering underwear sets was of particular interest to her now, and her effort wasn’t missed by her superior. Thin red lace cupped her breasts expertly, fabric meeting only with tiny rows of crimson beads, the ornaments cool against her skin. Her panties were simple, crafted from the same lace her bra was, though what could only be described as a baby pink veil trailed behind her. To him, it made her look an intoxicating mix of innocent and devilish-- a dichotomous brand of beauty he was certain that Grace Adler had single-handedly pioneered. His heart began to beat hard in his chest as he drank in her effortless divinity. “... do you… like it?”

He shrugged off his coat, approaching her. He held his hands up, watching in silence as she automatically began to remove his gloves. She went from one to the other slowly, daring to make eye contact with him as his palms were revealed to her.

“God, Grace… what a pretty sight,” he purred, eyes travelling along her body unabashedly. The lust in the air sparked a fire in his abdomen, form weaving its way around her until he could sit on the bed. “I love it. Come here… let me appreciate it in full.”

She obeyed him with her heart in her throat, stomach performing somersaults as she sank into his lap, legs on either side of his. They kissed briefly, lust plain, and without warning she began to grind her hips into his. A sound of yearning caught in his throat, large hands feeling along her back until they could settle on her rear, supporting her weight as she rocked back and forth.

“Grace…” he started, though the words died on his tongue as he felt her teeth on his neck. They scraped and nipped, promising him sweet reprieve, then sank in without a request for consent. He couldn’t cage the moan that slipped out at the feeling that flooded through him, head filling with fog, hands squeezing her to him possessively. I should be annoyed that you marked me, an Alpha, without my expressed permission, but I’m not. You’re the only one that hasn’t upset me when trying to do that. You’re the only woman I’ve let mark me in this body.

. He barely had time to register it as she pushed him gently to lay down, shuffling along with him as he arranged himself length-ways. She’d already set the familiar stool at the foot of the bed so that his feet didn’t dangle on the floor… she must have been preparing this for a short while.

“I want to…” Her cheeks turned pink. She’d never been good at expressing her sexual desires plainly-- she became far too flustered by it, despite her unapologetic nature-- but knowing that he was turned on by it encouraged her to no end. It’s something that I’ll only get better at if I practise. “I… I’ve been thinking about you all day. I need you inside me ... so I got some new clothes to get you hard…”

He groaned softly as she rocked into his hips, into the forming solidity beneath her. She’d forgotten what it was like to crave this friction. All she could think about lately was his generous length filling her repeatedly until she saw her very own constellations. She’d tried to tend to herself earlier that day, though her fingers were nowhere near as long as his, and her palms felt too small now that she’d adjusted to having his on her body.

“You don’t need special clothes to do that to me, Gracie, but they certainly help…”

She bit down gently on her lower lip, hands untucking his shirt from his pants. She’d always found it endearing that he gravitated towards pink when considering his first layer of clothing, though she’d had the sense not to say so. Her fingers brushed against his torso as she lifted it up, digits cool against his jagged scars before she began to fiddle with his belt. She knew that he was growing impatient, hips raising all too readily when she drew the accessory free. The heavy clack of the buckle against the wooden floorboards excited her more than she cared to admit.

A tiny purple tongue flitted outwards to dampen her lips, barely resisting the urge to drool as she pulled him free. Much like the rest of him, Edgar was large. She could only imagine what it would be like to take him during heat, when he knotted. A hot blush stained her cheeks scarlet as she ran her hands along him, hungry and small, feeling him twitch against her skin as she gave him the friction he so desired.

With a huffed chuckle: “Don’t tease, bunny… you know what happens when you tease.”

The colour on her face only darkened further as she thought back to how his patience for her taunts had worn thin. He’d had her on her hands and knees in no time, crying out in ecstasy as he mercilessly took her from behind.

“Maybe I want that…” she replied quietly, settling atop him, the sheer fabric of her panties soft against his flesh. He crooned low with approval, raising his legs slightly so that she was pushed more firmly into his lap. Steadily, she dragged her arousal against him, back and forth until the worry left her mind. Her head tilted back as the fabric of her underwear slid aside, inviting wet, naked flesh against his. “M-Maybe I want to be completely at my Alpha’s mercy…”

There was a much more pressing issue at the forefront of her mind now, though. Whatever she was to him-- whether she was a conquest, or a genuine consideration for a suitor-- she didn’t want him to discard her now that he’d slept with her. Whether or not he felt likewise, she had fallen head over heels in love with him, and she couldn’t bear the thought of revealing herself to him only for him to lose interest in her. So desperate was she to maintain his attention that she was prepared to offer him her body as often as he liked, despite the voice in her head telling her not to reduce herself to that.

All this for one man’s attention? You’re more than a sex toy, Grace. But when he holds me… when he shows me affection, that’s the best feeling in the world. I don’t want him to leave me. I especially don’t want him to sleep with other women.

She gasped in surprise as he suddenly sat up, his hands on her waist as he brought her grinding to a halt. Softly, the woman whined in protest, though immediately quietened down again when he began to push himself inside of her. He went slowly, inch by inch, knowing that she was quite a lot smaller than him.

“There’s time for my mean streak later, princess. Let’s go slowly.”

Princess…? Without her say so, she keened sweetly at the term, allowing herself to lean forwards and kiss him. Despite the way he was filling her so deliciously, their exchange was warm, tender. He barely pulled away as he came to fill her wholly, thick girth stretching her out in a manner that she could only describe as heavenly.

“There you go… how does that feel?” he breathed, words hot against her mouth. Her eyes rolled back at the mix of sensations, pleasure running straight to her core as she tried to move her hips, only to be held still. “Don’t hurt yourself… don’t rush. Tell me how it feels.”

“Feels so good, Edgar…” she answered weakly, tail curling around the frame of the bed, digging into the wood in the hope of keeping herself in place. “You’re so big… you fill me so good… I don’t want you to stop filling me…”

Her arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled her closer still, cool hands soothing the white-hot fire that had consumed her body. Gods, yes, hold me. Just hold me…

Her mouth found the soft indents her teeth had left behind on his neck, lips puckering against them, soothing the mark with placid kisses. Already, she could feel herself melting, the coil in her stomach taut as his hands slowly guided her hips up and back down again. She had a tendency to go too quickly, to become too concerned with pleasing him in the heat of the moment, and the last thing he wanted was to cause her any pain.

Her wanton moan as he thrust into her properly for the first time was warm against his blooming bruise, sending a series of tingles down the Alpha’s spine in the process.

“... you’re just so much stronger than me,” she whimpered needily, her nails sinking into the material of his shirt as she met his thrusts perfectly. He was steadily becoming rougher with her, breath coming out in fervent pants. “You can take what you want from me and I can do nothing but enjoy it…”

He wasn’t sure about that, but the words fed his voracious appetite for her nonetheless A hand splayed across her back, fingers fiddling with the meagre clasp of her bra, letting it fall away as she rode him furiously.

“As beautiful as you look dressed up for me, I want you to see your body,” he murmured, a playful smile shaping his lips as she giggled breathlessly. She was a prideful woman when it came to her appearance, which was why he found it so endearing when her arms threatened to curl inwards and shield her chest from view. Do I really make you feel that vulnerable, bunny?

He refused to let her hide, burying his face into the sensitive skin of her breasts, smiling at the feeling of her fingers tangling in his hair as her pace increased. Soft whimpers turned into pleasured moans, nails taut in his shirt as he licked and kissed every inch of her.

“Good… good… good…” The word was repeated like a mantra, pitch crawling higher as she got closer to the high she desired. “E-Eddie… touch…” She didn’t bother finishing, instead pawing around blindly for one of his hands and guiding it between her legs, feeling electricity in her stomach as the pad of one finger brushed against her clit.

“Say please,” he breathed.

“Please, Edgar… please. I need--” I need to cum. I need you to cum. I need you to stay.

Her arms tightened around his neck, teeth scraping against his skin as he dragged her hips down onto him with one hand, the other giving in to her desirous request. His digits were quick to become slick, sliding against her with ease as she desperately pursued her euphoria. His free hand moved to her tail, scratching gently at the base of it, revelling in the shiver that racked her spine, the stuttered gasp in his ear stored in his memory forever.

When she clenched tight around him, he found himself grunting quietly, unable to stay silent in the wake of her high. His arms wound tight around her, teeth sinking into the same spot on her collar that it had for weeks now.

“Mine,” he growled, not thinking about the implications but meaning them wholly.

If she heard him, she didn’t respond, mewling and panting as the ecstasy took over. Her nails had torn through his shirt at this point, leaving red marks along his shoulder blades as she drunkenly continued to rock her hips. She pulled away slightly to look at him. The expression she wore was nothing short of evil; eyes glazed over with an intoxicating mix of love and lust, lips parted in an ethereal display of rapture.

This is the face you make when your inhibitions die. I’m in love.

“Please… inside me,” she pleaded, unconcerned with the thin string of drool hanging at the corner of her lips, a short trail of saliva and excess venom ensnaring him completely. “I want you to cum inside me… th-that’s what I want…”

He felt strangely speechless, unable to articulate himself clearly as his head reeled with glee. He barely had the wit to call her name as she squeezed around him just right, pushing him headfirst over the edge without restraint.

“God, Grace-- fú̴͢c̶̀k̢͠--” His voice came out thick and strained, and with an uncontrollable flair that excited her to no end. It sounded briefly as if he’d commandeered three other voices and used them to express his pleasure, unable to do so with just his own. He watched with a lack of focus as her head fell back, golden curls cascading down her back like sunlit curtains. “Gods, I love you…” he mouthed silently, while she wasn’t looking at him to see it, his own eyes fluttering closed shortly after as he committed himself to the bliss.

She fell against him with heavy pants, body trembling in his lap as the high left her.

“... don’t leave me,” she begged quietly, feeling strangely emotional as they sat there basking in one another’s warmth. “... are you tired of me now that you’ve had me?”

The words sliced through the fuzz like knives, head slowly pulling back to regard her. She appeared all too lucid, especially when he himself was barely remaining upright. I haven’t experienced an orgasm like that in so long. I think the last time was when I made love to my wife.

“What’re you talking about…?” he heaved out, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t be… don’t be like that. It isn’t like that…”

She stared at him like he was an oncoming truck, pain in her eyes mixing breathtakingly with the post-sex haze. “Do you still want me…?”

“Yes,” he whispered ardently, hands moving to cup her face. She was all too willing to let him hold her, tail absentmindedly moving to curl around his. They latched together, then looped possessively around one another. “And I still want dinner with you tomorrow night, too. You… you don’t have to give me sex. I…” I love you. “... I… want, to spend time with you.”

He swore he saw a hint of wetness in her eyes for a moment, though she strategically reared her head back, forcing his hands away from her face. After a soft sniff, she offered him a fleeting smile, her tough exterior returning to her now that the fear had been banished from her brain. Though she didn’t have the courage to tell him so, she felt much better. Just knowing that he didn’t view her as a sex object was uplifting in its own right, but to know that he was still thinking about dates…? That made her heart soar.

“... Eddie?” “Yes?”

I love you. What are we? Are we friends with benefits, or are we more than that? Could we be in a relationship? Would you ever come to consider me as a mate? Lyes don’t typically date but could we?

She found herself unable to ask, opting instead for a placative smile.

“... I can’t wait for dinner tomorrow.”

#🞮 — if i could i'd trade my heart for a second brain. ❜ ( edgar. )#🞮 — that vixen﹐she's a master of disguise! ❜ ( grace. )#☆ — i never promised you your dream boy. ❜ ( main. )#☆ — i'm just here to destroy. ❜ ( ic. )#drabble *#/ man i'm fuckin weak #i proofed a LOT with this bc a lot of it i wrote in a tired haze bc of work lmfao #but i'm ultimately happy with it - i think it's really well-written

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metatiki · 5 years

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Chapters: 1/7 Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford Characters: Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Dorian Pavus, Cullen Rutherford Additional Tags: Angst, Time Travel Fix-It Summary:

Angsty Cullrian story about what happens if everything goes wrong after it’s fixed?

Note: This work is experimental storytelling for me. I initially wrote if for the Cullrian Discord I participate in (The Herald's Rest, check it out!) but decided to go ahead and publish it. Expect to see a new chapter every few days.

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Phase 1: Hunger

It started with a fall.

Dorian fell into Cullen's arms when he arrived at Haven, finding in the man's arms the precise description of the town itself. Fleeing towards the Inquisition after the Venatori had descended upon Redcliffe had been an act of sheer faith--not a commonplace occurrence at all.

His faith was rewarded with a hectic run through snow-covered mountains, their survival dependent on the haphazard collection of supplies which had somehow made it out of Haven. Each step was taken with a glance over the shoulder, wondering when the Elder One would pursue them, or if instead the Inquisitor would appear miraculously from the destruction of Haven.

When neither appeared, the despair truly set in.

Over the course of the next few weeks as what remained of the Inquisition struggled through the mountains, it shrank. Doubt caused attrition through desertion, and without the one who had led them to victory at the Breach, even Cassandra and Leliana, the Hands of the Divine, could not keep the momentum of the Inquisition going. When the Chargers left, Dorian knew it was over. If the Qunari wasn't interested enough to keep a spy in their midst, then that meant the Inquisition was truly finished.

Yet Dorian remained one of the stubborn ones, staying with the core of the Inquisition even as the numbers dwindled. When they found an old, rundown ruin on the top of a mountain after weeks of searching, he hunkered down with them as they desperately tried to make sense of a world increasingly going mad.

But then, where else did he have to go? He had no home, no family--his own father had told him that. So this was it, for him. The last chance.

Over time, the struggle to survive made for strange bedfellows. A chess game played to strive for a sense of normalcy turned into a small haven of its own, and soon he noticed the way Cullen's fingers lingered on his as they set up the pieces for the games. Soon the touches and glances moved on to more, until the chess games were moved to Cullen's office, and then became a pretext for them to dawdle in Cullen's bed.

But around them the world continued to fall. The rifts grew larger, the demons were more widespread, and the Venatori grew more and more bold. Ferelden and Orlais, it seemed, could not be called upon to save the world, but only lament its downfall.

So Dorian took up his mentor's obsession. He returned to the rubble of Redcliffe in secret, digging through the debris until he found a glowing white amulet. In secret, he slaved at his task, as the hollows in Cullen's cheeks grew and the smiles faded entirely from Skyhold. Laughter became hard-earned and even more precious than gold, and the moments they found in each other's arms became their only solace as the winter closed in around them.

As time passed, Dorian's fingers ached with magic as the fat in his body melted away and left him with only lean, hard muscle. Cullen's ferocity in his weapons practice hardened him as well, though more worrying still was the faint scent of lyrium Dorian caught every once in a while on his clothes.

Cullen expressed his worry towards Dorian by trying to give Dorian his own meals, and Dorian made sure to hold his store of lyrium all the more tightly to keep it from Cullen's grasp. They fought, but the arguments always ended when they realized tomorrow could always be their last. Yet the heat between them in bed and on the table became intertwined with and tempered by a desperate worry as each man tried to figure out why the other slowly withered as time went on.

As the world grew worse, the population within the ruin they called Skyhold grew, full of refugees who had managed to escape from the madness of the Venatori and the war between the mages and the Templars which still raged in the plains below.

Until, one day, Dorian found the answer.

He kept Cullen in bed for two full days after that, breaking only as their bodies necessitated it, ignoring the man's pleas to tell him what was wrong, until finally he cast a sleep spell upon Cullen so that the man wouldn't see him leave Skyhold in the dead of night and return to the now-blighted plains where Haven had once stood. Dancing through demons and worse, he walked beneath the pale green sky and saw the Fade peeking through. The red lyrium had also spread, marching far beyond the confines of Haven and making his travel that much more treacherous. He felt it wearing on him day after day, and felt the beginning of crystals beginning to settle in when he finally reached the crumbled walls of Haven and the buried remains of a trebuchet.

With no time to lose, he cast his spell.

And...it worked.

He was able to return to that fateful night so long ago when the Inquisitor had not emerged from the destruction of Haven. It took quite a bit of effort to arrange it so neither the Elder One or the Inquisitor saw him, but when he saw her disappear through the wood he'd weakened and drop into the tunnels below Haven, he sighed in relief and followed. Carefully he guided her towards the camp where he knew the rest of them were awaiting her, and sighed with relief when Cullen and Cassandra ran through the snow to retrieve her when she collapsed.

Things were different now. Surely it would be enough. Surely the world would be better.

With hope in his heart for the first time in a long time, he made the hike back to Skyhold ahead of them and cast the spell which would return him to his proper time. As he opened his eyes and looked around the library, he smiled. He saw shelves of books, not the nearly empty travesties of before, and people bustling all around. A glance out the window showed a healthy blue sky and plenty of troops along the parapet, and he smiled.

It had worked. The Inquisitor had returned, and that had made all the difference.

Quickly he rushed to Cullen's office and flung open the door, a smile already on his face, only to be greeted by a scowl from Cullen and a shout from the woman on the desk beneath him.

And, in the time it took to shut the door and lean against it, the realization hit him: the Inquisitor was back. Things were different.

But the skies were clear, the rifts were being closed, and the Elder One was being thwarted at every turn. The world was better, significantly so. Could he really object if the one thing that changed just so happened to affect him, and only him, on such a personal level?

Or should he simply realize that it was but another lesson in the fallacy of believing in unicorns?

It seemed he must.

So he accepted it, watching with gritted teeth when Cullen and the Inquisitor strolled along the ramparts, or played a game of chess, or disappeared to be alone for hours upon hours. He kept hoping the pain of it would lessen, but it never did. Cullen paid no more attention to Dorian than he did to any other soldier in his rank, a fact which sent Dorian to the tavern more often than not. A few nights with Bull did little to assuage the pain, but it did give him an excuse to drink more.

Eventually the night came that Corypheus was defeated. Everyone was celebrating the Inquisitor's great triumph, but all Dorian could do was hold on to his drink and keep it as full as he could manage despite his equally frequent attempts to empty it. When he saw Cullen disappear with the Inquisitor, it abruptly hit him.

He was free.

He left that night, ignoring Bull's knowing look as he walked into the tavern to pay off his full tab for the first time. It didn't matter that it was the dead of winter, or that he only had two coppers to rub together, or that his store of food would not sustain him for long.

At least, eventually, he would forget. And for good, this time.

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Read on AO3

#cullrian #cullen x dorian #angst #dragon age inquisition #dai #cullen rutherford #dorian pavus #fic: Phases #fix-it gone wrong #my writing

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ashandasindatails · 5 years

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Taffy’s Priestess

1700 words-ish Girl meets the dragon deity who she worships above the rest, the beginning of her long career of serving as her high priestess.

Short little story about a friend’s universe featuring me as a not dragon! This is the only story so far with that, haha. Basically just an Asinda AU.

Unfortunately italics did not copy over and I’m too lazy to go find every single instance of them, so sorry about that. On shorter posts I’ll remedy that; on longer ones I likely won’t be writing in tumblr so I’ll probably have a Docs link too.

Rest of the story under the cut!

Asinda was tired of walking.

She couldn’t stop, of course, but that was little consolation. What did make her keep trudging on was the thought of what she might find.

It had been three days now of walking through the forest. It wasn’t the biggest forest ever, but one dryad can only go so far in a day, even if they don’t have the brush to contend with like everyone else. So, it had been almost half a week of walking, foraging, and constant vigilance. She had Worrywort to keep her eyes open, but she was starting to feel the strain.

She ignored the strain. Asinda would walk for weeks to find what she was looking for, if she had to.

She ducked under a branch, letting the top of her head brush against it. The moisture from last night’s rain slipped off onto her head, peppering it in droplets. The small red and white flowers on her head began to soak it up. They were shaped like miniature dragon wings, hence the name Sprouting Flight. They were a rare breed, and probably what had started her fascination with dragons. Her mother claimed that meant that she was destined for something rare.

That ‘something rare’ had already passed.

In her youth, Asinda had been attacked by an illness that kept her bedridden for weeks. She had finally managed to pull out of it, after much praying and much medicine. She had mostly recovered, but the high fever had made its mark on her mind. She tended to talk a little bit slower, now, and she had a hard time staying on her feet. The forest helped with that; the soft touch of a vine or a nudge from a branch had protected her from many a fall. She didn’t see the effects, much, though people still commented on how she had changed.

Asinda didn’t care to notice.

Her jaunt through the woods was almost coming to a close for the day. The darkening sky meant that it would soon be too late to continue walking. Although this forest was kind, Asinda didn’t think the trees would appreciate her bouncing off of them in the dark, tumbling around in the bracken. So, she searched her surroundings in the twilight woods, finding a little clearing against a cliff face to spend the night. There looked to be a pair of caves carved into it, but Asinda preferred sleeping under the stars than in total darkness, dim as the light shining through the canopy was.

She set up for the night, letting her pack slide to the ground, digging around inside it. She didn’t need to make a fire - the summer night air kept her warm, and she didn’t need light for anything important. Plus, the forest didn’t like it.

Asinda changed into a set of sleeping clothes, made from a softer, lighter fabric. She made up a bed from the leaf litter on the ground, easing herself down into its soft fragrance.

Even when the moon was at its peak, she still wasn’t asleep.

Asinda sighed, shifting her position slightly. She was worried this would happen. On sleepless nights like this, she usually had Lyel, her tiny handmade dragon, to help soothe her to sleep. For some reason, she was the only one who could do it with any consistency. Even my sleep is dominated by scales, Asinda thought wryly.

There was one other thing she could do, but Asinda loathed the thought. When her flowers had just begun to grow, her mother had written a song, as she loved to do. It was about a young maiden searching for dragons. Even then, they had been a defining aspect of her person. Asinda’s mother often described her love for the divine beings as a glow, shining out from her heart and bathing everything around her in a bright light. Asinda had always giggled at the description. She couldn’t see how it shone outside of her, but she hadn’t questioned her mother on it.

She began to hum. The tune of the song was simple, but it had little complexities that made it unique. Asinda had never heard it played with an instrument, though she longed to. Working up the courage, she began to softly sing the words, letting her voice float through the trees. It warbled and wavered, not quite the right pitch, but always clear. She hadn’t ever sung it before, not even to an audience of flora such as she had. The life around her relaxed as it listened to her sing.

And Asinda drifted into sleep.

She was woken by a voice. It whispered softly, threading through her mind, pleasing and soft. It felt big - much bigger than any voice she had felt before. It knocked her out of her slumber, and Asinda opened her eyes to meet the green filtering down through the canopy. She couldn’t see where the voice had come from. Must have been a dream...

She stretched, sitting up. It was about an hour past dawn, judging by the angle of the light. She had slept late. I’ll have to pick up the pace today. She was heading towards the center of the forest, where she was more likely to run into the Drake of the Forest: Taphruss. Asinda had heard a rumor that the Drake was headed towards the Heart, and had set off in an instant, the temptation of being able to meet a dragon too much for her to resist.

After a morning call to the forest, Asinda had a small breakfast of fruit before packing up. She climbed to her feet, ready to continue her solemn march.

“Where are you off to, little one?”

Asinda froze in her tracks. That was… that was the voice from her dream. She glanced around herself frantically, trying to see who had spoken.

She was met with the cliff she had slept beside shifting and looking at her with sharp, piercing, beautiful eyes.

Taphruss.

Asinda’s mind jerked to a stop like a horseback rider hit by a pike. She couldn’t process what was in front of her. The only thing her head could come up with was DRAGON. It circled around, swimming through her empty consciousness. Nothing else could connect, not a single emotion or thought. Not even the dragon’s speech broke the spell.

“Little one? Are you well?” The enormous dragoness tilted her head to the side, inspecting. Asinda. “Has something gone wrong?”

And suddenly she could speak.

“OHMYGOSHIT’SYOUISLEPTNEXTTOYOURFACEI’MSORRYIDIDN’TREALIZEYOUWERETHEREANDIT’SACTUALLYTAFFYI’MSOSORRYDOINEEDTOBOWORSOMETHING?”

Taphruss blinked, surprised at the outpouring of words. “Calm, little one. What was that you called me?”

“T… T-Taffy.” Asinda blushed bright red, a stark contrast to the dark greens and browns of the dragon’s scales. “That… that’s what I used t-to, um, to call you when… when I was younger.” She omitted the part about playing make-believe with her imaginary versions of the Drakes. That detail was probably unnecessary.

The ground rumbled. It took Asinda a second to realize that it was Taphruss laughing. “Taffy,” she repeated, tasting the word, drawing it out. “I… well, I believe I like it, although that might be morning drowsiness. It fits your voice.”

Asinda had no response.

The dragon began to move, the trees seeming to slip around her, barely even rustling as her scales flowed between them. A large tail came forward, directly towards Asinda. Before she could move, it stopped right in front of her feet. The end was covered in a huge tuft of fur that was the color of bright summer moss.

“Come, little one. I’d like to hear more from you.” Taphruss sat still. Did she… did she want her to climb on her tail? The Drake of the Forest, inviting her - a crippled dryad - to ride on her back? These beings were literal gods. What… what was going on?

“I… I would… l-love… yes!” In her haste to board the Drake’s tail, Asinda forgot to be careful. Her feet tangled with each other, sending her face-first into the dirt.

Her world crashed down with her. Was she really about to do this? Would it be disrespectful? What if Taphruss actually didn’t like her? What if she couldn’t keep up with her expectations? She began to tremble, all of her thoughts mixing in a whirlwind, scattered like leaves before a gale.

She picked herself up slowly, staring at the ground, now shaking like an aspen. She bowed low before Taphruss, Drake of the Forest, and now witness to her clumsiness. She desperately clawed her lessons in court speech from the depths of her memory back to the surface. “I’m sorry, my, my Lady… I’ve been left with a poor sense of balance since youth.” She gulped, choosing her next words carefully. “Are… well, are you sure I’m worthy to… to be in your presence?”

Taphruss just laughed. “Of course, little one. If you weren’t, I would not have allowed you to stay near me all night. As it is, your song of dragons enchanted me. I would hear more, if you are willing.”

“I… my mother. She taught me the song.” Asinda cringed at her response.

“I would meet her, then. Come, guide me to her. I promise, little one, you are more than welcome on my back.” The dragon smiled. It was radiant, full of an intense love. And it was focused entirely on her.

That was all the convincing she needed.

“O-okay!” Asinda said, scrambling up onto the tail, walking along it carefully, all the way up it’s length until she reached Taffy’s back. It took several minutes, due to the sheer size of the dragoness and her careful, shaky movements, but the goddess stayed still and waited patiently for Asinda to make it all the way. At one point, she reminded her to take care, raising a blush on Asinda’s cheeks.

Asinda could feel the glow inside her heating up. She was atop a dragon. It was incredible. Taffy looked back to make sure she was settled, and Asinda was met with a striking profile of her face, all elegant curves and fine edges. She knew, from that moment, that she wouldn’t leave Taffy’s side unless she was forced. The thought of not being here, able to run her hands along the giant, green scales, filled her with dread. She loved every part of this being. She had walked for days just to catch a glimpse of a dragon; it was hard to believe that she had met one the one she longed to see.

The crown of Sprouting Flight on her head swayed as Taffy ruffled her wings.

The Drake and her new priestess slipped through the sunlight towards home.

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witchqueenofthemoon · 5 years

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BODY AND SOUL Part 21 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: Moved several things to Part 22 to make this chapter more concise (table fucking included, but you get fucking in the beginning, so don’t complain!). The album they’re listening to after Thai food is obviously Jefferson Airplane’s absolutely iconic SURREALISTIC PILLOW; the songs are two of my favorites, which indeed play adjacent to each other on the record: TODAY (one of the most beautiful love songs of all time) and COMIN’ BACK TO ME. Please note how careful Duncan is about waking Kenzie up before they fuck; autonomy, people, consent is hot! Their Exalted Selves (which is what I’m gonna refer to their angelic divine other selves as now) are based very vaguely on the Princess Serenity and Prince Endymion versions of Usagi and Mamoru in Sailor Moon, which I’ve loved since I was a child, but they’re far more ethereal and obtuse--it would be impossible for a human artist to draw Kenzie and Duncan’s Exalted Selves, for instance, as their beauty is too incredible and intense for human eyes. Kenzie’s makeup look for the photoshoot is based on Billie’s look here. A reminder that this is her red dress. The Cartier LOVE bracelets Duncan orders are here (for him) and here (for her, with diamonds). Duncan’s Givenchy star shirt. Duncan’s watch. This is his silver Cartier he’s wearing in Part 1. Here’s ANNIE’S SONG (another absolutely iconic love song I’ve loved forever). I found multiple meanings for the name Mackenzie, but in Gaelic it apparently means “comely”, which I used the synonym “lovely” in place of. The Rose Garden at the Botanical Gardens is real, but there’s no gate akin to the one I created, and I added a lot more roses than I think there usually are (there is a fountain)--MY STORY, MY STUFF. Annette’s dress. I’m seeing Fleetwood Mac tomorrow (it’s been two years since the last time I saw Stevie and I’ve missed her more than I can describe), I work on Saturday mornings, and it’s one of my best friends’ birthday party on Saturday evening, so Part 22 is going to take a bit; it’s also going to be the chapter where my!Duncan finds out from Claire Underwood that he was adopted, though the way I navigate that scene is going to be slightly different than the way Beau Willimon’s Season 6 did it; a reminder that my fic is a House of Cards AU in addition to being a Millory AU, and I’m throwing out canon HoC stuff that doesn’t fit into my narrative (such as @montenegro-style noticing I threw out Duncan’s super-Modernist apartment from the show and replaced it with a Romantic one), so don’t expect things to unfold the same way--I said this before too, but Duncan’s definitely not going to jail in my story, so forget about that. I may be borrowing characters and some vague plot elements from Ryan and Beau, but this story is mine. Love to the Millorys, as ever, and especially my Duckenzies.

Duncan stared up at the ceiling far above them, his fingers in Kenzie’s hair, his own hair tossed against the black pillow as music pumped quietly from the hidden stereo in the bedroom wall. To be living for you, is all that I want to do, to be loving you, it’ll all be there when my dreams come true...Kenzie was tucked under his arm, her head against his shoulder, the softness of her breasts and stomach pressing into his side, her body naked now--they’d ordered a mountain of Thai food, and she’d kept the tulle lingerie on while they ate, a linen spread on the floor in front of the picture window in the penthouse living room as the night fell, Dike, Nike and Athena gazing down on them on either side, Kenzie facing the Bouguereau prints, her little legs stretched out in the silky sheer stockings, bowl in her lap. The picture of her eating so hungrily in the delicate attire would forever be seared on his brain from this day on--my Kenzie, her essence, her goodness, her sweetness, her staggering beauty, not just her body, but her soul. Her wide-eyed gaze skirted up now and then to admire the prints (Duncan noticed she looked at Evening Mood the most), then fell back into his to give him coy looks, languidly licking curry from her spoon.

“I think they all look like you,” he’d murmured to her, the sincerity in his heart making him dizzy. “I can only see your face in them now, you in the evening, you at night, you waking up in the morning…” He reached for a spring roll but forgot about it halfway to his mouth as Kenzie had come up on her knees, her breasts pressing together in the elegant criss-crossing design of the black bra, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder in the fading light, her (sweet budding leaves and chocolate and the saffron light of autumn mornings) eyes laying him bare. Her beauty in this moment struck him dumb--Kenzie set her bowl down and crawled over to him on the linen, languid, knowing. Duncan had put on a pair of black gym shorts and a fitted black tee shirt to retrieve their takeout from downstairs a few minutes before, and as she reached him Kenzie tugged the hem of the shirt up, little hand soothing over his bare skin underneath.

“Call me your moonlight again,” she whispered against him, her eyes trembling open and closed, her little pink lips shining with the residue of spice and saliva. Her hair brushed against his neck and cheek, the sweet smell of rose and vetiver and jasmine, and Duncan had set the spring roll down uneaten, brushing his hand against the napkin in front of him, then bringing it up to press the cascade of her hair into his nose. She is my favorite smell. I’m at peace inside the scent of her.

“Moonlight. My moon princess. My moonbeam.” He kissed her hair--let his lips slip down its waves, intoxicated. “You know the full moon is on the night of the Gala, baby? A full moon just for you. It’ll shine down on you and everyone will be struck with longing for you. But you’re my baby, aren’t you? You’re my moonlight. They’ll pine for you because you’re mine.” He blushed at his need, his desire to have her all to himself--but as he said it, Duncan knew it was true. We belong to each other.

“Yes, Dunny, I’m your moonlight, I’m yours, my love. I belong to you.” Kenzie climbed into his lap, sliding against him in the achingly soft tulle, her ass settling down on his calves crossed together, and she was so small and felt so delicate and she smelled so lovely, he could feel himself growing hard again--her little arms came around his neck and he lifted her up into his mouth to kiss her, his mind awash in a cloud of gold. He was struck with a vision of her as Artemis, naked and white in the reflection of the moon, bathing in a midnight pool, her bow and arrow made of the gossamer strands of stars sitting on the bank of the water, singing moon hymns in her sweet voice to the owls and the deer and the foxes flitting through the undergrowth. Too beautiful for any ordinary man’s eyes. How am I so blessed. Their kisses extended for a long while--Kenzie went to lift away but Duncan needily brought her back against him and she let him, she fell into him again, she arched into him and he could feel the way she was giving herself to him, coaxing him back into arousal to do what she asked him for later tonight--his nerves were alight at the prospect of bringing her body out of achingly lovely sleep with insistence, enticing her under his continuous touch to give herself over to him in the dark with only the moon to see their desirous tangle.

Now they lay in bed (our bed, the bed of our adoration, our love, my favorite place now that she lays beside me in it), sleepy and full and naked and ready for bed, the duvet pushed down to their feet, speech seeming a very dull and faraway impulse. I can hear you this way, can feel you better this way, he thought into her, and she nodded against his skin, her cheek against his nipple as the music drifted around them. Please, please, listen to me, it’s taken so long to come true, it’s all for you, all for you...Duncan gazed down at her--her eyes had fallen closed and she had begun to breathe slow against him, her leg crooked over his thigh, her little mouth open just a touch. He could see there were still lingering red marks at her neck from his ardency, a tattoo that told the story of their nights. He thought of how she’d looked that morning, still stuck inside her sleep, stuck in her nightmare--her face had been creased with fear, and it had clenched an icy hand around his heart, rattling a panic into his lungs--he’d run to the bed and gripped her and shook her, his desperation strange and immediate. Wake her up, his mind had urged. Don’t let her see it, don’t let her suffer it. What it was still didn’t seem clear, but Duncan remembered what she’d said upon waking, that in her dream there had been a man with his face, a man who was like a black hole in the void.

It was like he had eaten you.

Duncan shivered against her and slid his arm out from underneath her head--Kenzie stirred, her head turning, her body shifting with aching loveliness--Duncan’s heart and the heat in the pit of him clenched as he watched the incline of her ribs shift, the refracted light on her breasts, heard the a tiny sigh fall from her mouth--but her eyes remained closed. He carefully moved from the bed and pulled the switch on the nightstand, his eyes still lingering on her (exalted), and the room plunged into blue-and-white darkness, Jefferson Airplane still quietly drifting into the room: you came to stay and live my way, scatter my love like leaves in the wind, you always say you won't go away, but I know what it always has been, it always has been...Duncan moved through the living room, stepping to the reading lamps to switch them off, bathing himself in darkness, his eyes falling over the expanse of the city through the picture window that encompassed the entire west end of the room. The night was very clear and the sun was gone--the only indication it had been there was a line of mauve and dahlia color lingering at the horizon before the sky bled into darkness pinpricked with stars, hazy in the reflection of the city.

Strolling the hills overlooking the shore, I realized I've been there before...the shadow in the mist could have been anyone...I saw you…

What do the dreams mean? At first Duncan had been sure they’d been brought on by the mad mix of emotion inside both of them lately--just dopamine, seratonin, oxytocin and endorphins, just our brains in a mad rush of ecstatic happiness, and the residue is our minds going haywire at night. He moved on to his study, the carefully controlled temperature of the penthouse cool on his bare skin, an oasis in the hot June night. This one seems to have been the clearest for her, and the most frightening. Is it fear that I’ll betray her that would make her dream of an evil version of me? His heart ached at that. I never will, baby. I never fucking will. I’d die first.

I saw you, I saw you, comin' back to me

Duncan glanced at the huge expanse of The Youth of Bacchus as he moved towards his turntable, the song’s final longing guitar and melancholy hum bleeding out into silence. The woman in the center, her arms thrown back ecstatically, her head tilted towards the consort at her feet, collapsed in revelry--Duncan had studied her many long nights, studied her abandon and her achingly white, almost translucent beauty, but now, like the prints in the room beside this one, he could see only Kenzie in her form--Kenzie dancing in the living room, singing in drunken joy (I’ll never live to match the beauty again), Kenzie running away from him into the ocean waves, Kenzie’s glittering eyes on him as he tied her to the chain. The whole of the world turned around her; she was the sun, and also the moon, and also every other star, and everything that encompassed the universe was because of and according to her--for me, that’s the end of it.

Duncan pressed the button at the side of the record player and the needle lifted away, settling back into its resting place. He turned to look at the painting again--the painting Annette had gotten him as a moving gift, and over time the painting that had begun to feel as though it were an irrevocable part of him, an extension of him, a friend to him as he stared at it long on lonely nights. He thought of the mesmerized way Kenzie stared at it, as she had since that first night when he pressed his mouth to her clit as she hovered on the edge of his desk, her head thrown back; as if she sees me in it, when now I see her in it. It’s almost too much to look at it for too long now; because it reminds me of the one I love most in all the world and she is blinding in her loveliness. It was always beautiful. But now it’s exalted to me because she loves it, and anything she loves is beloved to me.

He thought again of Ariadne, the painting he knew would be for her now, too; the auction was in a few weeks’ time, just before the beginning of July when their birthdays would be coming, and he smiled, his hand coming up to his jaw, his thumb pressing against his bottom lip, though he didn’t realize it, eager to have it hanging on the wall beside their bed, eager to see her face when she saw it and knew it was for her. When she died Dionysus took a crown he had given her and placed it among the stars. The idea of her dying someday was one he couldn’t begin to fathom; the despair of it was beyond words in its agony. But Duncan felt a drifting calm fall over him after the stab of pain--we found each other in this life, didn’t we. We finally found each other. I think we would find each other again. I think we’ll always find each other. I really fucking do. I think that’s what the Fates wrote for us. That we’re meant to be together--really, truly fated to be together. Like two stars in a constellation that endures until time no longer has any meaning. And there can’t be one of us without the other--not for long.

Duncan switched off the Tiffany lamp--now the penthouse was truly in darkness but for the light that came from the night outside. O Fates, I wish you could tell me what the dreams mean. They don’t feel like they’re just dreams. I know I said that to Kenzie--but I said it because I wanted to believe it myself. Lately, everything seems to mean something. Everything seems to have a hidden clockwork of purpose behind it. When we met I think we kicked something into motion, something ground out of a long sleep into a great predetermination. Now everything is vibrating with destiny--our destiny. Our love. Whatever she and I are meant to do with our lives, we are meant to do it together. Whatever I’m meant to do, I can’t do it without her. And I wouldn’t want to. I ache for her every moment--she has pierced the deepest part of my soul.

He carefully moved back to the bedroom in the dark--his eyes glanced up at Pallas Athena as he passed her, and he couldn’t help but send a prayer out to her (gray-eyed maiden, in whose wise gaze all truths are laid bare--give us wisdom, my sweet lover and I, to give to those who need it most, to move the pathways toward the greatest good--I’ve wasted time, Athena, I know it, but I swear I won’t again, I swear I’ll cherish every moment with her); he’d had the goddess statues for over five years now (they’d come from Stapleton’s, Frederick had found them for Duncan carefully when he’d asked for Greek goddess motifs), but never had he so often had the impulse to pray to them--I never prayed to anyone before, he remembered, and now I’d pray to anyone if it meant she would always be safe and happy. He thought of the Fates again (Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos), spinning the threads of their two destinies together many ages ago--most deep and unfathomable love, a love for all of time, he thought, and did not question where the certainty had come from, only felt acutely that it was not misplaced.

Duncan saw that moonlight now fell on the bed as he re-entered--the moon was waxing strongly now, and his breath felt caught in his throat as he looked at Kenzie in the throes of sleep, turned towards the door, the duvet still pushed down around her feet, so her body was bare to him. The silvery wave of the low light fell over her cheek and the tawny-gold of her hair, making it seem almost white, giving it a sheen that seemed otherworldly. But she is, he thought, emotion clouding into his mind, stunning him with her again (and again and again) as he watched her sleeping form, her silvery nakedness, the dip of her waist and one arm crooked around her hip, hand dipping down in front of her sex, the other pressed against her mouth, sweetly--she was more profound to him than anything, more breathtaking than any art of any age. It’s like she is from another world--it’s like she was snatched from heaven and fell down into my arms, into my bed, fell down onto that balcony where I beheld her, trapped here on earth, for the first time. I felt that I knew she was more than what she might have seemed to an untrained eye. And I still feel that I know it. She has an effect on other people that they don’t seem to really recognize or understand. But I see it. And I think I understand. My Kenzie isn’t just lovely and kind; she has real power to heal, to alter the pain others feel and alleviate their suffering. Kenzie has a healing touch, one that can knit together and remedy a distressed soul. It’s almost like she really could bring something back from the dead. It’s like she could sew back together, using only her hands, her energy, something that had been ripped apart, reverse fucking time--it’s like she somehow willed me onto that balcony, so I could find her, so I could touch her and in that touch know her immediately as I always have, and know she was the half of me that had been lost, but no longer. Because she had willed us back together. She had willed us to find each other again, and so we did--she attached a golden string to me long ago when time began, whispered to me that it would help me find her if we got lost, if we got separated from each other--and I finally saw it glimmering between us, and followed it to where she was. Saint Mackenzie, goddess of lost things, goddess of binding, of rebirth, of transcendent healing, of perfect love. My moonlight, my sunlight, my starry sky, beloved.

He could feel himself growing hard again, thinking of her sliding onto his lap in the tulle lingerie, the demanding croon of her voice (call me your moonlight again, I want you to wake me up with kisses and fuck me in the dark with your lips pressed into my shadows, I want you to kiss my shadows, and touch them with aching hands), and Duncan knew it was the right time--that it was time to press his mouth into the soft space of her in the darkness. His eyes had begun to adjust to the dark now and he eased down onto the bed, its cool sheets shivering up his thighs, urging him toward her--Duncan reached down to where her arm crooked over her hip and slid his fingers up her torso to the sweet roundness of her breasts, achingly slow, willing himself into tenuous control, overwhelmed with the relief of touching her without any constraints, without his hands tied or the lingerie covering her or anything in the way of her, Kenzie, my solace, the home of my heart. He eased his body down next to hers, his hands still cosseting around her, fingers drifting back and forth on her nipples, and he felt a surge of blood into his cock as he felt them grow hard under his touch, though she didn’t stir yet (wake me up with kisses) and Duncan leaned his face to her across the pillow and pressed a soft, aching kiss into her forehead, her temple, each eyelid, shivering in sleep, the dip of each cheek, over her nose and the incline of her jaw, and then he pressed down, sliding against the coolness of the sheet again, to bury his face against her neck, his kisses becoming more insistent, more exacting of her--wake up my love, Duncan pressed into her mind, feeling her head lift as she stirred, slowly beginning to register him, wake up baby, and he felt strange for a moment, caught up in her unconscious mind, as if he was brushing up against another self, another Kenzie--then the feeling cleared, and he could feel her golden waves of energy. And he said again, into her: wake up my love, wake up baby love, wake up so I can fuck you, wake up so I can press my kisses into your shadows, wake up so we can be together.

Then--Duncan was stunned with the feeling that surged into him in that moment. It was almost painful, the brilliancy and power of her energy as he lingered inside her in that in-between place that wasn’t waking and wasn’t sleep for her, and he felt minute inside it, wildly small to behold her this way; fucking goddess. Oh fuck, Kenzie. You really are a goddess. You have all of this inside you and I am staggered by you. I can’t begin to fathom this. Is this where you go when you sleep? Back to the secret expanse of everything you keep hidden, this place of resplendent power that has colors I’ve never seen, colors I could never describe? Is this where you came from? And even more unbelievably, he heard her voice inside that in-between place, calling out to him, and her voice was full of so much joy it immediately made him want to sob against her, and she said yes baby, Duncan, exalted, beloved, this is where I came from, and where you came from, and you come here too in your dreams, but you never remember, but you will. Soon, you’ll start to remember. What we were before, what we are, and what we will be again. Soon we’ll both start to remember, for our destinies were written when the stars were just dreams themselves, and our destinies will live on when they’ve burned out.

Duncan’s mind felt like it was on fire with the feeling of her, the words she spoke that made no sense to him, and yet made every sense, a deeper sense, their hidden meaning touching against the shadowed hidden heart of him, and he lifted his mouth up to the space under her ear, one hand cradling up under the back of her head to pull her more firmly against him and the other sliding down the intoxicating softness of her rib cage and her belly to hover at her abdomen, hover above the mouth of her sex, waiting for her eyes to open to him, to give him the yes he longed for, and he felt the intensity of the in-between place begin to fade--felt reality seep back in, like milk stirred into dark coffee, and Kenzie was stirring more strongly against him, leaning into his mouth tasting at her skin, and a moan escaped from her that stirred the building heat in his groin and he spoke into her skin, his own words bleeding into a moan, a reply of need for her--”wake up baby, wake up all the way for me, wake up and tell me to touch you, tell me to fuck you, Kenzie, uhh--” and despite the darkness, he felt her eyes open, their golden depth unnerving him for a moment (how can they be glowing like that, like a ripe harvest moon), focusing on him as though he were the one pinprick of light in a long darkness, and then they seemed to fade back, fade to the forest-and-burnt-acorn he recognized--he had leaned back to look at her, his lips lifting away from her skin, and he gasped as her little hand came down, exacting, and slid from the dusting of hair at the top of his groin, closing around the length of his stiffening cock and dragging her achingly soft grip to the head of him.

“I’m here, baby,” she whispered, and he felt his need kindle up like someone had thrown gas onto a bonfire, felt his cock jump inside her grip, and then she said “touch me,” and he slid his fingers, middle first, down between the lips of her cunt and pressed, harshly, into her clit, so warm and so wet and sending a spasm of want through his body--Kenzie lifted up, almost involuntarily, and her moan was longer now, focusing on him, inside the sensation of his touch, beseeching him for more. “Yes, baby, fuck yes,” Kenzie moaned, “more, more,” and Duncan pressed the lips of her sex outward with his other fingers, his long middle finger still working down into her clit, strictly, then finally, he kissed her, open-mouthed, and her sweet little tongue laved out against his, her slender hand still gripping his cock with a strength that addled his senses. In the shadows, with only the moon to light their bed, Duncan felt he could feel the way she was sending little pinpricks her power, that terrible gold energy, too beautiful to behold in this world, into his body through her grip, as if she were sending it into his spirit, giving him strength, kindling his desire to a high place he had never imagined, residue from that in-between place, residue from another world where such things were commonplace, so much power was the natural order.

But Duncan knew what she wanted then, and he broke their aching kisses apart, moving his hand up from his attentions at her sex, pushing her little body down forcefully so she was on her back, pressing her legs wide apart and coming up between them on his knees, and Kenzie lifted her hips so she was poised against the head of his cock, her hair falling down in the moonlight, her hands coming up to his arms and then sliding down to his wrists to clutch him against her. Duncan gripped her carefully at the small of her back, his thumbs pressing across her hip bones (god I want to kiss them)--then he thrust into her with an ecstatic groan, marveling at how wet she was, how perfect it felt to be inside her in the dark this way. Kenzie shuddered into him, a little cry falling from her lips, and in the dark he could see her mouth lingering open, her eyes rolling back for him, “that’s it, baby,” he couldn’t stop himself, needed to speak his desire aloud to her, in the dark, where no one else belonged but the two of them in this moment, “give yourself to me, everything, the shadows too, I’ll kiss them, I love you--” and he felt her nails dig into the skin of his arms as he pounded into her, wondering at the intensity of his hardness, the lightness of her body against him--god baby, I don’t want to crush you and she said “fuck, keep going, do not fucking stop, god you feel so fucking good, fucking fuck me Duncan--”

Her little hand reached up to him, lifting from his arm and he leaned down to her, pressed down into her, easing her back down onto the bed and fucking her achingly close now, their stomachs pressing against each other, her hand coming under his jaw to pull his mouth into her, tasting him breathlessly as he drove his length into her again and again, and her scent was rose and vetiver and her sweet, heady sex, and her yielding mouth was almost too wonderful, too much to bear, and his hands came around to cup her breast and against her neck to press there softly and she wrapped her little feet around his back and her fingers twined into his hair at the nape and Kenzie whispered “my sweet baby, my beautiful Prince, fuck me--” between their kisses and Duncan felt faint with her realness again, faint with the feeling of her cunt clenching around him, faint in her arms, her loveliness, her silken skin, the slight, achingly sublime sounds she was making overwhelming his senses.

His hand came down between her legs again and his fingers pressed ardent circles against her and he said “baby, do you want me to suck on you, do you want me to kiss your clit--” and Kenzie shook her head against his lips and said “no, baby, no, don’t stop fucking me, just touch me like that, touch me in the dark, I love you, Duncan, I love you with every part of me--” and he was nodding against her--”I love you too baby, Kenzie, I love you, oh god I love you, I can’t describe--”, his memory drifting against the power he’d felt from her as she floated out of sleep, absolutely in awe of her again, absolutely at her mercy, inside her grace, and she shushed him as his fingers flicked back down to the wetness that coated her cunt and his cock as he thrust his whole length into her, then out, then back again, and redoubled his effort with his fingers at her clit as their mouths came together again and she began to shake in his arms, a shaking that began at her shoulders and cascaded down her body into where his cock was buried inside her and she moaned into his mouth, a moan that became a prolonged wail into him, her words muddling into incomprehensible murmurs that Duncan could almost see, like colors, floating around them--”Dunny, oh, fuck--oh fucking fuck baby oh ohhhhh beloved baby my sweet fucking babyfuck love you I love you--” and Duncan breathed in carefully, deeply, keeping the rhythm of his movement into her steady and concentrated as she came, her little hands clutching his head down to her, twisting into his hair and pulling it harshly as she cried out, and he thought oh Kenzie, you’re bathed in moonlight, you look like an angel, you’re too beautiful for words--

Suddenly, inexplicably, inside her release, Duncan’s mind was jerked back into wherever it had been before Kenzie woke up--into where he’d hovered inside her psyche, in that in-between place, and he remembered her words again, still locked against her, inside her, the rhythm he’d built unceasing, words that she seemed to speak from another self floating back into his mind, a version of her that had immense power, an energy that seemed too great for reality, too beautiful for human eyes--soon, you’ll start to remember, what we were before, what we are, and what we will be again--and Duncan saw a version of them in his mind, as though in a memory, where they were both in that place that seemed to be made of those inexplicable colors that he’d felt inside Kenzie, colors that felt like emotions, like the love he felt for her, like the love he could feel coming into him from her. Kenzie’s hair was longer than it was now, it was so long it fell to her knees, and it sheen was indescribably lovely, paler than the tawny-gold he had begun to know so well, a white-gold that was almost silvery, in magnificent waves, and he saw tiny flowers woven through the strands, their color indescribable to him, their shape unlike any flower he could think of--each one seemed to have a hundred tiny petals. Around her forehead was a circlet of gold so thin and fine it seemed an impossible thing to exist at all. Her dress was unlike anything he’d ever seen, either--it seemed to be made of the gossamer strands of a thousand spider webs, a hundred intricate honeycombs of some vast, beautifully geometric design that was simply too complex to ever create, and yet she wore it, and it fit her as though it were her second skin--intricately woven, rose-golden embroidery fell over the dress--its pattern was like a language he could not comprehend. And her eyes--inside her eyes in that place he felt he really could see a universe turning, so magnificent and so golden that they threatened to rend his heart into a thousand fragments. He realized he was inside some other self in this moment--he couldn’t see his own face, but could see his own clothing, the intricately woven sleeves over his arms, in a similar incomprehensible gold embroidery and geometry that made him dizzy to even attempt to contemplate--he wore a kind of thin, woven gold breastplate that was akin to the aegis on likenesses of Athena, but its quality also seemed incomprehensible to him, a weave that seemed to shift and change under his gaze, and he could feel weight at his shoulders--a strange weight that felt familiar, but also heavy beyond all understanding.

And in the memory, or the imagining, or whatever the vision was that he had tumbled into, he noticed with a wild, fierce surprise that Kenzie, this other Kenzie, this Kenzie wrapped in intricate golden lovely things that were not of earth, with shimmering hair twined with tiny universe flowers, had wings extending from her back--wings that were gold and silver and iridescent rose and other colors that he didn’t know the names for, wings that were unlike any wings he’d ever seen on a bird or a bat or any earth-bound winged creature, but he knew they were wings just the same, knew they were wings for a certain kind of being--a divine being.

And then he resurfaced back into the dark of the bedroom, their bedroom, and he was still moving with an intense rhythm against her and he was coming deep inside her now and Kenzie was clutching at his torso between his hips, her cries quiet but her mouth hovering open, and her eyes had that strange glow again, intensely focused on him, the one he’d seen when he woke her from her sleep, and then it faded as he emptied himself into her, his moans extending into deep silence, and he pulled out of her and collapsed beside her, his head falling into the pillow, and clutched her desperately against him and felt her mouth come against his chest and her little hands clasp against his ribs, and Duncan remembered nothing else until he woke the next morning at sunrise in the same position, with her still clutched in his arms, her little breath having left a damp pool against his skin, her face cherubic and far away in her sleep in the dim morning light, and he wondered upon his waking if it had all been a dream. And then he fell back into sleep, his hand coming up to bury in her hair.

-------

“Babyyyy, Dunny…” Duncan felt her little mouth pressed into his ear and his eyes opened--full sunlight was streaming into the room now and Kenzie was leaning down to him, kneeling on the bed, wearing her satin kimono, her eyes (your earthly eyes, baby, not your divine eyes, you keep those hidden most of the time but sometimes I can see a little bit of them, that gold whirling around, and last night I saw all of them and they were beyond words, they were ethereal as the first dawn--) open and awake to him, a little smile playing around her mouth.

“I brought you coffee, baby,” and Kenzie’s hair fell against his collarbone as she dipped down to kiss him, and Duncan’s hand immediately came up, needy, to the space under her ear.

“Kenzie, baby, do you remember that? Last night?” His eyes searched hers--please tell me if that was real, beloved angel. Please tell me that wasn’t a dream. Did you see the vision? Kenzie stared at him, and her mouth dipped open, and Duncan was suddenly hazy with her loveliness again, hazy with longing. I love you more than the morning sunlight, wondrous Kenzie. “You said something to me--that I’d start to remember something, about who we were, who we’re going to be--”

Kenzie eyes lost some of their clarity, and she handed him one of his glass coffee mugs, carefully. He sat up, leaning into the shape of her hand--she dipped her head down and her hair fell over her shoulder again, the strap of her top falling down onto her arm. Duncan wanted to press his lips to the bare skin there--wanted to press his mouth against her heart, the delicate space between her breasts. There is never a moment where I wouldn’t rather be kissing you. He knew she heard him--her face became even more radiant in the daylight, her hand coming up to brush shyly against her cheek at his thoughts.

“I...I don’t know...sort of, baby,” she said finally, eyes flitting up into his and then away, towards the great mirror, towards the window, its curtains partially drawn but the sliver of day visible beyond. “It was like a dream, wasn’t it? Like we both slipped into a dream.”

“Yes, baby, it was, but I don’t think it was a dream.” Duncan brought the coffee to his lips and drank, the hot, bitter liquid coursing down his throat, immediately stirring his senses more sharply. “I think it was like...a memory.”

“How can that be,” Kenzie laughed a little, inside her words. “Dunny, baby, the way you looked to me--you were so radiant, so beautiful, it was too much to bear. You were...you were a real angel, you had wings, but they were--” Duncan was putting the coffee down on the nightstand, his heart suddenly rattling inside him, and he reached out and grasped her hands tightly, pulling her closer. “--they were not like any wings I’ve ever imagined, they were in colors I’ve never seen--” “Kenzie, baby, I saw you that way too--” “And your clothing, it was like, gold and had this design to it, but I couldn’t figure out the--the design, it was like, it was made of something that doesn’t exist in this world--” “Fuck, Kenzie, you looked that way too, baby, your hair had a hundred tiny flowers in it and each flower was made of its own universe, and your eyes were like a gold galaxy spinning--” “Fuck, Dunny, that’s lovely, how can you say that to me, that’s too lovely--but--but you looked so amazing too, your hair was longer and more golden and your eyes were like a blue nebula, but the blue was not any blue I’ve ever seen before, it was--”

Their lips were rushing together again, and he was pulling her against him, sliding towards her, and her little hands came up to twine inside his where they clutched her face tenderly and he thought I love you Kenzie I love you fuck I love you I’m yours I’m yours and when I die my spirit will call out to you through time I’ll still be yours forever never doubt that I am yours my beloved my exalted beloved most hallowed of all most unearthly and divine love and he knew the dream had not been a dream, knew they’d seen something that seemed impossible but was not, something that was hidden deep in time that somehow they had glimpsed, that their love had uncovered the great secret of it, that finding each other here had opened the door on that other place, and he was overwhelmed inside the knowledge, and it was all he could do to hold her against him and taste her, her little face lifted up to him, her eyes closed, her face ecstatic (saintly, her pleasure in this moment sacred), the feeling of her under his hands so intensely real he wanted to cry.

“I--Kenzie, I want--”

Her eyes opened to him--hazel, depth of green--his hands still clutched her and their mouths hovered over each other, pulled back for a moment. I want to marry you. I want to be tied to you in the eyes of all, your most loyal, most faithful, most devoted husband.

He knew she’d heard, despite the words un-escaped from his lips. She looked down, suddenly shy again--her cheeks dusted with color immediately, and she felt achingly warm under his fingers. She was so lovely here, in reality, in his arms, to try to contemplate her in that other place was like trying to contemplate the mathematics of the universe in the face of the glory of one star; there was too much, and she was too great, and her multitudes were staggering, and he felt his breath hitch--felt the tears come against his eyelids. Neither of them said anything, but he could see the emotion gathering in her face towards him; he knew Kenzie could see how close to tears he was, and saw that it was moving her to tears, too.

“After the Gala, when we go to the cabin,” she whispered to him. “We’ll have time and space--to, to think about all of this. To figure it out. To figure out what all of this means. Okay? Duncan. I love you. I love you so much. You are beloved to me. You are the only one for me. Just be patient, okay? Be patient with me, baby. I’m here and we’re together. We just have to get through this first. We’ll be alone so soon. Alone to--alone to--to see each other. To really see.”

Duncan dipped his head away from her--he felt utterly overcome, and tried to gather the many threads of himself that had scattered and dispersed, as if in a gust of wind. He nodded--he knew she was right, knew that his patience was required, knew the rush he felt wasn’t a true need, rather his own deep desires. But he couldn’t help it--he wanted their life to begin so much. I want everything to fall into place, I want us to move the company forward to help others and the wheel of fate to grind toward the greatest good, I want you to have everything you’ve ever dreamed about, Kenzie, angel, I want the sweetness of you in the quietness of the woods, under the starry night sky where there is no one but us.

Baby, she thought into him. Dunny. I love you so much I can’t speak it. I can’t tell you. You have to feel it from me, just feel me, feel that I love you more than life, more than every flower, every living breathing thing, know that you’re the angel of my heart, the light of my body and my soul. And he did--he could. He could feel the golden wave she pushed down into him, the inexplicable touch of her so fine that it felt as though she were wrapping a second skin around him, this one radiant and impenetrable, this one the skin that would protect him from the outside world, invisible but inviolable, his hidden armor, woven by her little slender hands, all her love whispered into each strand, all her divinity blessing him. And my love shall protect thee, guide thee, and keep thee always, for thou art exalted in the light of my adoration, my divinity I give to thee, my sanctity I have divided unto thee, my soul I have split with the aid of the three-headed goddess, my golden thread I have tied to thee, and so thou and I art the same. And Duncan knew these words weren’t really Kenzie’s words--they were the words of the other Kenzie, the one with the silvery hair and the eyes like planets made of gold, the words that winged, ethereal creature had spoken to the other Duncan he had hovered inside last night, the one who wore the golden aegis, the other him with the colossal weight of his own wings.

Then the spell seemed to break, and he felt the tears drift away from him--he gently let go of her, and she slid away from him off the bed, and he felt the peaceful gold she’d borne down on him wafting inside his chest and his belly, in the core of his body. Duncan reached for his coffee again, watching her step into the walk-in, glancing at him over her shoulder with a peaceful, knowing smile. “Time to go see your mother, Duncan.” He groaned a little, smiling back at her--reality seeped back in strongly, and he reached for his phone on the nightstand, turning it over.

There was a text from Annette, confirming that the Vanity Fair interview and photoshoot would be at the Botanic Gardens in a few hours, the one for Forbes at The Lafayette after that, a restaurant inside the Hays-Adams hotel that he’d been to for several interviews in the past, most of them for Gardner Analytics. He had ignored her text from yesterday, wherein she’d called him ludicrously naive, their moving in together preposterous and claimed Kenzie was a greedy little social climber, a phrase that had made him want to hurl his phone across the room despite the heights of his mood with Kenzie in the kitchen only moments before--he looked them over again, scrolling up, fighting the anger seething back into his mind, urging himself to calm. I refuse to let her get a rise out of me today, he thought, and answered his mother today with nothing more than a clipped “Okay.” You can’t make me turn on her, Mom. It’s not going to happen. Never in a million years. You might as well try to make the sky fall down or stop the tides or keep the sun from rising and setting. You will never break us apart. Not only do I love her more than I love my own life--I know, I feel like I know that we’re actual fucking Soulmates, we can hear each other’s fucking thoughts, and I think these dreams and visions we’ve been having are the future, the past, or some strange parallel present. You really don’t fucking get it, but I think eventually you will, because you won’t have any other choice. Eventually everyone will get it. We’re together and I think...I think we always will be, if there are other lives after this one. I think...we always have been.

“I can’t believe we have a fan club now, baby.” He heard Kenzie’s voice drift towards him from where she was hidden from view in the closet, and he came out of the soft gold of the thoughts he’d begun to delve down into.

“You were so sweet to those girls, Kenz. The paps noticed right away. You handled that like a pro, I was so proud of you. I bet Claire’s texted you a BPF post about it already.”

“Check my phone, baby, it’s on my side. My password’s 0717.” Her birthday.

Duncan reached for Kenzie’s white iPhone in its iridescent gold case--he smiled down at the black inverted moon sticker, beginning to rub away into white, running his finger over it, then turned the phone over. Clairebear had indeed texted her (how did I know), a telltale BPF link visible in it, and behind the text Duncan could see her lock screen was ones of the Esquire shots of him--the one where he had a thin circlet of silver around his forehead, his eyes skirting to the left of the camera, their blue emphasized to striking brilliancy by the filter used on the shot, his hand adjusting his cuff facetiously. He thought of his own lock screen, with the shot of her smiling down at the breakfast he’d made her, sunlight on her cheek, grapefruit juice and Adelaide’s silver spoon in her hands--wait until we do a photoshoot together, baby, he thought. God, you’re going to look so beautiful. You always do. I should commission someone to paint you. Fuck, I should fucking do that. I’d die to have a painting of you. A huge one, colossal as The Youth of Bacchus, of you with flowers in your hair, you in wild moonlight, you as the goddess you are, you--

Duncan got up from the bed, glancing up at his naked reflection in the mirror (no wings, no aegis, no long gold hair, that’s for damn sure), then back down at the phone, slowly moving towards the closet doorway with her phone still clutched in his hand, thumbing her password into the surface, reading Claire’s text.

Clairebear: Kenzie Lou, look at this. They LOVE you. You knew exactly what you were doing with this. You wily little lady! I can’t believe you have a fan club now. You have to look at the website these girls have created. I’m just screaming over it, it’s insanely cute. They have like 15,000 members already. It’s insane!!! Also, is Harris single? He’s so hot, oh my FUCKING GOD.

He grinned at her message--I love how Claire texts Kenzie, he thought, and clicked on the BPF link. DUCKENZIE GREET FANS WARMLY OUTSIDE ONE FRANKLIN SQUARE, POSE FOR PHOTOS--the first shot was Lindy passing the roses to Duncan in his sunglasses, the second was a lovely shot of Kenzie smiling at Gabby (god look at her, an angel), then one of her leaning over the newspaper, writing, one of her tucking her hair behind her ear, face still dipped down, Duncan’s hand pressed against her back, his expression unreadable behind his sunglasses (I was worried as fuck), her smile still apparent--how could anyone look at these and not fall in love with her, Duncan thought, his hand coming up against his jaw, trailing there, lost in the photos. There were a few more: side-angles of them posing with each of the girls, then Duncan pulling Kenzie away from them, Harris close behind, glancing darkly into the camera. Duncan turned into the closet, his eyes still on the phone--he tapped one of the photos of her looking up at the girls over the newspaper, the sharpie poised in her hand, enlarging it.

“Baby, look at this--” Duncan held her phone up to where he knew she would be standing, eyes rising to look at her, and then he stopped dead--Kenzie had slipped on the red dress, the lacy red bodice hugging her tiny waist and her round breasts (I fucking love them, I love her), the full lace of the skirt fanning out beautifully down her hips, and she was throwing her chestnut hair over her shoulder, her head still tilted to the side, away from him--she turned and met his eyes, and she smiled at him, her eyes roving up and down his nakedness. “Hey baby,” she murmured, her voice husky.

“God, I love that fucking dress.” His thoughts immediately drifted to when she’d been wearing it as she eased onto his lap in that makeshift dressing room, his fingers coming between her legs and coaxing her into a secret euphoria, the way he’d wiped his fingers after on a tissue and brought it to his nose, the heady scent of her sex making him wildly dizzy. “My mother’s going to flip her shit, baby, and I honestly can’t wait to see it.”

Kenzie stepped toward him, hands coming out to take her phone, her fingers brushing along his as she did, making the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up--she stared up at him for a moment longer, the depth of green hovering behind her corneas--and I love looking at you naked, baby, was the thought she pushed into him, and Duncan bit into his lip, goosebumps breaking out on his skin--then she looked down at her phone and he was staggered again by the loveliness of the smile that fell over her face as she saw the photo.

“I look nice, don’t I?” She said, looking up at him again. “I mean...I look kind, I mean.” She blushed--Duncan melted at the sight of her shyness.

“Baby. You are kind. You’re kind to everyone. And you look fucking beautiful in these. Everyone is in love with you now. I have to admit…” Duncan stepped closer to reach her, his hands falling down her bare arms and the sides of the lacy red dress--Kenzie wore no makeup yet, but her eyes were so wide and so beautifully colored they seemed illuminated somehow--”It makes me a little jealous. I selfishly want you all to myself sometimes. I don’t want to share you.” Kenzie’s eyes fell into his again, and her little hand was falling down his bare torso to trail over his hip bones, needling with her thumbs and forefingers, her mouth opening to him.

“I was thinking, later...” and Kenzie was reaching up to him, tiptoed, her mouth pressing into his jaw as he leaned his head down to her, his hands at her shoulder blades, pressed into her hair. “You could throw me down onto that big, beautiful cherrywood table--” and her mouth was edging along to his chin and to the other side of his jaw, and Duncan couldn’t stop himself from leaning into her, moaning against her, his cock stiffening--”and fuck me on it, baby, fuck me standing while I wear this dress--” and Duncan was nodding against her, his eyes closing with the sensation of her, her little hand flicking down to play over his length, then teasingly away. “--I was thinking I’d really love it if you’d do that…”

“Yes, Princess. Yes, I will--” Duncan’s mind thrilled, imagining her body prostrate against the beautiful antique table, her golden hair tossed onto it, the sound of its creaking as he thrust into her, his mouth on her body. We can finally use that table regularly, he thought. We have to fuck on every surface of this penthouse, baby, every square inch, I need to fuck you as often as you’ll permit me, as often as you’ll desire my attentions--

“Good.” Kenzie moved back from him, eyes intense in his, her mouth and hands sliding away from him, and Duncan groaned desperately at the loss of her touch. “Now, get dressed, baby. Do as I say.” Her eyes skirted down to his cock and Duncan shivered at her eyes--look longer, baby, look at me, I’m yours, my aching sex is all for you, my body, my desires, all for you. But her eyes lingered for only a moment, as if to tease him, then she moved past him on her fast little feet, towards the kitchen. Later, baby. You know later I’ll be yours. Later I’m gonna tell you to fuck me good and you’re going to do it, aren’t you, baby.

Yes, Kenzie. Duncan had half a mind to go after her, to grab her wrists and press his mouth against her, but he knew he wouldn’t, couldn’t--Kenzie told me to obey. Her desires come first. He let out a long, shuddering breath, then turned to where his shirts hung in their quiet, pressed, dark row. He pulled down a black cotton Givenchy shirt with stars embroidered along the collar--all the stars in the sky are for her, he thought, drifting inside his desires as he began to dress, thinking of tiny flowers with a thousand petals, each one containing a universe.

---------

“Kenz, Samuel and Harris are downstairs,” Duncan looked up from the text on his phone to where Kenzie was sitting across from him at the island, about an hour later. She clutched a little bottle of Pellegrino in her hand, a piece of half-eaten sprouted grain toast with unsalted peanut butter in front of her (Duncan had made it for her alongside a sliced, skinned kiwi and a carefully squared mango, which she’d already devoured), hair falling over her shoulder, the Tiffany moon necklace at her throat, glinting at him--she’d applied a little makeup now, though he knew undoubtedly the stylists would want to put more on her for the photos they’d be forced to take today (not that I mind sitting around staring at you, baby, that’s all I ever want to do now)--and she’d been looking at her phone too, grinning at something unseen to him, some secret pleasure on the little screen.

“Baby, look. Look at this. I can’t believe it.”

She pushed her phone across to him--with a little jolt of nerves Duncan realized Kenzie had gone to DUCKENZIEFANS.COM. Holy fuck.

Duncan was used to fans--that is, a certain type of fan. They tended to be women, many of them middle-aged and as questionably-mannered as the two women in the coffee shop who’d taken photos of him and Kenzie without asking, or DC socialites with a desire to climb (that is, fuck) their way up the social ladder of the capital city. Duncan couldn’t deny he’d slept with several such socialites, but they all seemed to be part of a distant past he could barely see now--part of another life, another Duncan, a man who hadn’t understood himself at all, hadn’t bothered to pay closer attention to his real desires, his hopes, or the sources of real happiness he had encountered. Kenzie has awakened my senses to the world that is always hovering just outside our eyesight--the hidden world that is seeped in delicate beauty, the world that comes out when one looks at art, or hears beautiful music, or is present in nature. Love is, I think, all of these things--and all of these things remind me of love. Of the one I love. Of her.

The website had clearly been made by someone with graphic design experience--the interface was lovely and easy to follow, and the aesthetics were pleasing. The home page was tasteful and minimal, gold and soft cream with black lettering--he thought of the two teenage girls who had greeted them--those girls made this website? The headings were in Lobster script, and the text in soft Playfair Display. WEBSITE UNDER CONSTRUCTION, thanks for your patience, read a header near the top. Above it was the photo of the two of them at Le Diplomate taken by some random iPhone camera, but sharpened and filtered to be maximally flattering. A bar down the side had directives neatly listed: DUCKENZIE FAQ, HOW TO JOIN THE FANCLUB, DUNCAN SHEPHERD PRESS RELEASES, MACKENZIE STONE PRESS RELEASES, DUCKENZIE PRESS RELEASES, DUCKENZIE MERCH & FAN CLUB EXCLUSIVES, COMBINED GALLERY, CONTACT INFO, FAN MAIL INFO, MEMBER FORUM. He marveled at the page for a moment, lost in it--Duncan knew he had had fan sites before now, but he’d never looked at any of them beyond Instagram, the site he tended to frequent the most when he had bothered with social media at all in the past. But this website was exceptionally ordered, clearly by someone who was interested in design and who also had developed a serious fascination with the two of them. He clicked on the link titled DUCKENZIE PRESS RELEASES--sure enough, the topmost result was the series of photos from the article posted today on BPF, with Kenzie smiling at Gabby and Lindy, the camera facing her. Under it was a link to the gossip site and a long series of paragraphs, clearly written by the two girls, about how friendly and warm Kenzie had been to them. Duckenzies, you wouldn’t believe how lovely she is in person! It’s like she’s surrounded by a warm ring of sunlight and being near her makes your whole body tingle. She smelled like roses and flowers, like a goddess of spring. Just being close to her was so incredible. Below a few paragraphs was another photo, this one a close-up of Kenzie’s signature and the message she’d written out on the newspaper. A special message to us and all of you from Kenzie herself. Below that was the iPhone shots of the girls posing with them. They were so kind and gracious to us! Everything we hoped and knew they would be!

“That’s just insane to me,” Kenzie said as Duncan continued to click through the site. “‘Duckenzie Merch’,” and she lifted her fingers up on either side of her head, feigning quotations. “Stickers with my face on them for everyone!”

“I want stickers with your face on them, too, they better send me some.”

Kenzie made a face at him and Duncan grinned. I mean it, though. I’ll put them on everything I own, I don’t care. I’ll buy every fucking sticker they’ve made. He glanced away from Kenzie’s phone reluctantly, at the face of the black Ballon Bleu Cartier he’d chosen for the inevitable photos that would be taken of him today--different from the silver one he’d worn the night he met Kenzie on the balcony. This one was framed in rose-gold (and the gold reminds me of her). He noted it was a quarter till noon. “We gotta go, baby. They’re expecting us at 12:30. In the Rose Garden, can you believe that?” He smiled at her; roses for my Kenzie. He looked at his Cartier again, thoughtfully, as Kenzie finished her toast and stood to put her plate in the long steel sink, washing her hands, staring at her succulents along the windowsill. He admired her tawny blonde hair, falling down her back from the crown of her head in soft waves. I’m going to get her something to adorn her lovely little wrists. I want to give her more tokens of my love, one for each part of her body. He thought of the rose choker, coiled in one of the drawers in their closet--I’ll strap it to your soft little throat tonight, baby love, I’ll kiss you all along its smooth leather as I plunge into your sweet rosy cunt. He looked up to see she’d turned and was staring at him, and knew she’d heard the thought--the color of her gaze shivered with hidden arousal, that hidden, golden power he knew she had over him. “Anything in my teeth, baby,” was all she said, though, baring them at him. He laughed, delighted at the feigned ferocity in her gaze. “Just your sweet smile.” Kenzie rolled her eyes at him, coming around the side of the island, languidly leaning down on its smooth surface to dip her face towards him, the red lace dress hugging her waist and floating around her beautifully, sending warm waves of tingling longing down his spine. “Mr. Shepherd, you’re infatuated.”

“I love you.” And Duncan pulled her arms insistently into him, burying his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her smell in deeply. How I feel, baby. How I feel with you. Like I can’t help but be sincere. My heart is so full of you there’s no room for anything else.

“Can’t wait for your mother’s head to spin when she sees my dress,” Kenzie’s tone was playful and her hand fell down the side of his hair, her cheek at his temple. He closed his eyes, still pressed against her neck, lost for a moment in the feeling of her little fingers, the pressure of her skin under his eyelashes.

“It’s a Kenzie dress,” he murmured against her. “Not like the other one. This one has you all over it. I love it so much. I think it’s perfect. And whoever’s doing the shoot is going to love it too, I bet.” He leaned up to look at her and her face was suddenly hovering very close to his, her lips whispering over his, her eyes half-lidded, looking down into him.

“I love you, Duncan Shepherd.”

“What did I do to deserve the love of an angel?” He couldn’t stop the words from falling out of his mouth, falling against her lips, hovering so close to him. Her leg was crooked into his thigh, her little stomach breathing against his, his hands pressed insistently into her hair along her back--you fit so sweet and small into my arms, my beloved. I could hold you this way all day, drunk on the scent of you, drunk with your softness. She was wearing the golden-strap heels again, and his hand came around to her foot, trailing over the laces.

“Oh stoppit.”

“I won’t.”

“It’s time for us to go, baby,” Kenzie tried to extract herself from his arms, but Duncan held fast to her, pressing his lips, then the tip of his tongue to the bare skin under her ear. She softened in the tenderness of his mouth; he heard her moans against him and wished the day would fade back into night for them, wished they were in the woods, under a night sky in a hidden forest, wished the world would just leave them be, let him kiss her, turn the sun away from them and bathe them in the shadows of their bed. But no, the world was waiting (Duckenzie, here they come, quick, take a picture), and so was Annette Shepherd. When Kenzie tried to pull away this time, Duncan let go of her, heart bruising at the sudden coldness of his lap. Kenzie slipped her convertible bag over her shoulder from where she’d left it by the penthouse door. “Pass me my phone, baby,” she said, her eyes bright on him. “Let’s go. The sooner we leave the sooner it’s over with.”

Duncan clutched her little gold iPhone, sighing deeply. “Don’t let Annette give you any shit today, baby,” he said, standing and handing it to her, fingers brushing down her wrist, her little face looking up at him, her expression one of aching trust, as he leaned protectively over her. “You’re a Shepherd now too, as far as I’m concerned. If she wants to insist you belong there, we’ll show her that you really do.”

Kenzie’s eyes flashed at him, and she lifted her chin in that defiant way--his throat clenched, head suddenly hazy with adoration. You got it, baby. Duncan barely had time to slip his wallet into the tailored pocket of his slacks before Kenzie clasped his hand in an iron grip, pulling him out the door and down the hallway. You got it, baby.

---------

Duncan remembered his meeting with Claire Underwood tomorrow as Samuel drove them towards the Botanical Gardens--a meeting he had no real idea of how to navigate, considering Annette’s insistence that the President was, in fact, her enemy, therefore the enemy of the company. What can I say to convince her I’m not, he wondered. Especially being unable to disclose that I’m gaining majority share once BIll dies? Nervously, he wondered if it was indeed possible without making her suspicious of him. Maybe meeting with her before Bill’s death wasn’t such a good idea after all. Too late now, Duncan. You’ll have to play like the old Duncan. The one who was ruthlessly loyal to Annette, and Claire Underwood knew it.

Kenzie’s hand was tucked under his thigh, and he glanced at her; she was staring out the window, seemingly admiring the historic Georgetown colonials they drifted past, her little lips mouthing the words to the John Denver Samuel had playing low--you fill up my senses, like a night in a forest, like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain--the lovely dip of her collarbones lifting in her quiet breath against the fitted lace bodice and her diamond moon necklace, the lacy folds of the crimson skirt fanning out around her legs. Her phone was in her lap and he could see the outline of her Instagram profile open on it--2 million followers now. He could see she’d made a new post, featuring the photos of them posing with the two girls from DUCKENZIEFANS. My sweet Kenzie. Duncan made sure she was still distracted by the music and the scene outside her window, then angled his phone up to snap a discreet photo of her--her hair fell beautifully across her shoulder in the sunlight, and her mouth was open a little, mouthing the song, her cheek turned to the side and her eyes lifted away from the shot. On our way to talk to @vanityfair, did you know my @kenzielouwho has a beautiful singing voice? #comeletmeloveyou #letmegivemylifetoyou

Kenzie still hadn’t noticed anything--he could feel the drifting cascade of her thoughts falling against him every few moments, and knew; you really love this song, baby. It’s making you think of me. It’s making me think of you, too. Let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms. He opened the browser app and typed cartier.com, highlighting Jewelry, then under COLLECTIONS, he double-tapped LOVE. He chose two bracelets--one band of 18k yellow gold, and another band, also yellow gold, smaller, with 4 brilliant diamonds. He tried to keep his mind quiet as he did, tried to think of his mother and his meeting with Claire Underwood. He finished the order and closed out of the Cartier website--there. All done.

“All done with what, baby?” Kenzie turned to him, blinking. Annie’s Song had ended, and she seemed to resurface from a dream. Duncan noticed that they were a few yards back from pulling up to the Botanical Gardens; he lifted his thigh a little to grasp her hand. “Nothing, baby, just something I had to take care of for work.”

“Hmmmmmm,” Kenzie replied, giving him a suspicious look. “It doesn’t seem like that’s quite right.”

“It’s a surprise, baby.” Get out of my head, let me surprise you, my love.

“Stop buying me things.” He could see she was trying to hide the smile that wanted to fall over her mouth--she pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes at him.

“I won’t.”

“Duncan Shepherd.” She crossed her arms.

“I want to, baby. Please let me.”

She gave him another long look, pouting her lips a little.

“Please, Miss Stone. Let me bring you tribute for your altar.”

Kenzie blushed deeply at that, turning away from him. Duncan leaned down to her little cheek, bringing the hand that wasn’t holding hers tightly up to the dip under her chin, turning her jaw towards him.

“It’s a way I can worship you,” he spoke down to her ear. “Let me worship you, Kenzie.” He felt her shiver under his touch; he dipped his lips down to her skin and let them linger there, closing his eyes, savoring her softness and the sweet scent of her perfume (rose, vetiver, geranium, no, I’ll never tire of it).

“What’s your middle name, baby?” He heard her ask softly. “So I can use it when I’m annoyed with you.” He laughed into her cheek at that and felt it rise as she smiled under his fingers.

“It’s Malcolm. Follower of the Saint. Mom told me it was going to be my first name for awhile, but she decided she wanted it to be Duncan after all. The Warrior. Fearless.”

Kenzie gazed at him for a long moment as the BMW drifted to a stop on the curb. Then she mouthed his name, quietly. “Duncan Malcolm Shepherd. Warrior, follower of the Saint.”

“And what does Mackenzie mean?”

She smiled at him, winsome, charming him, teasing.

“Guess.”

“Fast as a falling star.”

She grinned. “No.”

“Lover of horses.”

She laughed at that. “No.”

“Beautiful as a rose kissed by spring dew at dawn.” He dipped his head to her, breathing along the delicate space between of her neck.

Kenzie looked away from him at that; he saw the shyness fall into her, felt it; the gossamer wave of her affection, the demure tinge of her longing for him.

“Kenzie.”

“It means lovely.” Harris was coming out of the front passenger door, buttoning his jacket, wearing dark sunglasses, stepping to open Kenzie’s door. The partition was floating down. Duncan could see several people walking on the sidewalk outside; some of them were turning, curious, to look at the BMW. He turned back to her, and he and Kenzie stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment; hers with gold discs floating behind the hazel--Duncan thought for an instant he could see his own eyes in her mind, you pierce my spirit with them, she thought, blue like the sky after a storm, the storm you’ve stirred in my soul, the wild love you’ve given me, every kiss and every touch too beautiful for words, every instance of your love a miracle.

“Of course it does,” he breathed.

Kenzie smiled at him. In time I’ll memorize every tiny detail of your face--I’ll remember everything, he thought. Beloved.

Harris opened the door and she slipped away from him, her little golden iPhone clutched in her hand, her hair falling back, the red lace of her skirt sliding off the leather seat. Duncan followed her out, squinting into the summer sunlight. He glanced to where several pedestrians had stopped to watch the car (two middle-aged companions, a man and a woman in professional attire; a younger woman in jogging clothes with a German Shepherd on a leash); there was dawning recognition in their eyes and the jogging girl immediately lifted her phone up. Duncan turned away, annoyed, certain she’d snapped the picture anyway. He reached for Kenzie’s hand as she slipped her round sunglasses over her eyes, and Harris moved in front of her, blocking her from view from the people watching. There were a few more people inside the front gardens to the southwest, and they stared after Duncan and Kenzie with obvious interest, but Duncan was relieved to see that the Rose Garden had a sign on the gate saying it would be closed for maintenance for the day--the “maintenance” in this case being their interview and photocall with Vanity Fair. As they approached they saw a tall Asian woman with very long, straight black hair and razor-cut bangs, in a smart short-sleeved navy blazer, a black v-neck blouse and a pencil skirt, standing at the gate from the other side. She waved to them a little, giving them a small smile, using a key to unlock it; she pulled the gate open and Kenzie and Duncan stepped through, Harris tight on their heels, and the woman locked it securely behind they moved further in, shielded by tall arborvitae bushes.

“River Tsukamoto, staff writer for Vanity Fair.” She reached out a hand first to Duncan, then to Kenzie, who grinned at her. She had a coy, small smile, and very dark eyeshadow and lipstick, almost black, and no accent. “So wonderful to meet you both. Annette arrived a few minutes ago--she’s in hair and makeup. We don’t always do it this way, but she said you have another interview later today--is it okay if we conduct this one as we shoot?”

“That’s fine,” Duncan replied. “Whatever’s easiest for you.”

He gave her a small, close-mouthed smile, and still saw the telltale sag in her features that his smile tended to cause with people. River’s eyes flicked back and forth between him and Kenzie; down the length of Kenzie’s lacy red summer dress, the fall of her tawny hair, up his tall form and the smart cut of his clothing, lingering in his blue eyes and flitting over to Kenzie’s, their depth of green and gold making the other woman blink rapidly. River’s eyes fell to Kenzie’s moon diamond necklace--she seemed to recognize it. We must have an Instagram follower here.

“God, I have to say, you’re both just stunning in person.” The woman’s cheeks turned a deep crimson almost instantly, and she crooked an arm around her stomach. “I have to admit I started following both of your Instas since your relationship became public, they’re just--ugh, I love them.”

Duncan hesitated and Kenzie immediately stepped towards the woman--”What’s yours? I’ll follow you back.” Kenzie was holding her phone up, opening the app.

“Oh, oh my god, yes. It’s just @rivertsukamoto. Ugh, that would be so great.” River smiled again, this time dipping her body down and clenching her fists a little, bouncing in the black open-toed boots she wore--her toes were painted black. “I just loved those photos of you guys at the beach, so gorgeous.” Kenzie grinned up at her. “Thank you, that was a really wonderful day. There, now we’re Insta friends.”

“Right this way--” and River extended her arm, the blush still on her pale cheeks, leading them towards the center of the rose garden, where several stone benches surrounded a fountain, with dozens of rose bushes in different colors and varieties circling all around the courtyard, deep damask red, rosy-white bourbon, burgundy-colored hybrids, creamy york, sunny yellow--a tall sandy-stone building rose ahead of them with pointed turrets and art-deco glass windows. Duncan’s eyes skirted to where there were two trailers set up along one side of the bushes--River ushered them towards the one at the right, opening the door and beckoning them inside, wherein a very large, hairy man in suspenders and combat boots with a very curly mustache, long hair tied in a messy bun, and very glittery eyeshadow greeted them with a screech of delight.

“Alister at your behest, dumplings,” he said, gasping in a high voice. “Duncan Shepherd and Mackenzie Stone, sit down. God, you two are like sweet pastries, Duncan, you’re a chocolate eclair, Miss Kenzie, you’re a little pink macaron. You’re first, prince of the piercing blue eyes. Sit.”

Duncan settled down into the nearest styling chair, and Kenzie settled into one beside him, two circular mirrors mounted against the trailer’s back wall wherein Duncan could see her nervous expression across from him. Alister was washing his hands at a basin sink in the corner, and Duncan saw Kenzie take her phone out, snapping a picture of their two reflections, him side-eyeing her with a bemused expression, the phone angled over her mouth, her eyes skirting back to him. Then Alister was gripping his jaw carefully and pressing a pencil onto his eyelid.

“God, you don’t even really need anything, do you,” the big man spoke down to him in his high, lilting voice. “Your skin is gorgeous. This jaw could cut someone in half. Your eyes are out of control. Your lips are like fucking pillows. Just kill me, honey.” Kenzie was laughing into her hand, her eyes squeezed shut.

“Honey, you don’t even get to laugh, you’re fucking him, that’s not even fair,” Alister pointed the brush in his hand at her in mock-severity, rolling his eyes, turning back to Duncan--this just made Kenzie laugh harder. “God, you smell like a fucking Tom Ford runway, too. And what are you wearing, it fits you like a second skin, oh my fucking god, who does your tailoring?”

“A gentleman never reveals his tailor,” Duncan was trying not to laugh himself; Kenzie’s wild amusement was making him want to jump out of the chair and tackle her with kisses.

“Is he a gentleman?” Alister glanced over at Kenzie, using the brush to swish powder across Duncan’s cheekbone. “I bet he is to you, honey, you little sugar plum.”

Kenzie was coming down from her laughter, brushing tears from the corners of her eyes.

“He is. He’s an angel.”

“Oh shut up. You’re both stupidly beautiful and wildly in love. Sickening. Your Instas are the hottest thing online right now, I saw you taking that photo honey, make sure you tag me, @alisterrichardsstyle.” “I promise I will, thank you, Alister.” Kenzie snorted into her hand again. Seeing her laugh this way made Duncan feel absolutely dazzled. I’m your biggest fan, baby love.

“There.” Alister hadn’t done more than add some dark eyeliner and very light contour to Duncan’s face; Duncan had had this reaction from stylists before, and was used to light “touch-ups” versus any kind of lengthy makeup for shoots. “You honestly didn’t even need that, but keeping up appearances and all that. You might be the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen, baby. And I’ve seen some boys.” Alister moved over to where Kenzie sat, glancing up at him nervously.

“Now, you, little baby angel. Let’s give you some lips to go with that dress, mama.” As Alister worked on Kenzie’s face Duncan couldn’t help but stare--her eyelashes darkened and became longer under his hands, her eyelids painted a iridescent pink, her cheek rosied, her lips dark crimson red to match the lacy dress. Duncan was struck by the romanticism of her hair over her shoulder, the glance she gave him as Alister finished on her--suddenly, my dark fiery goddess of blood-red wine.

“I guess you’re more like a little red box of Valentine’s Day chocolate now, baby,” Alister said to her as he moved the lipstain wand from her mouth. “Stay still while I document.” Alister pulled his phone out of his large pocket and took several snaps of her face from all angles, then moved over to Duncan and did the same thing to him. “Gonna pretend like I created all this beauty myself,” Alister smirked. “You are free to go, my angelic darlings. I shall wave to you from your place in the heavens.” Alister gave them a little bow just as River pulled the door open. “Alister, are you done on them?” Duncan was going over to Kenzie and grasping her hand--they thanked Alister, Kenzie still giggling into her palm.

“Oooooo, gorgeous,” River cooed, staring at them openly. “Annette’s over here.” Duncan’s heart rammed up into his mouth as he saw his mother, her beauty clouded with annoyance (as was her usual with him lately--Duncan remembered how he’d brushed her off the last time he saw her, and her angry texts regarding their living together), staring down at the large screen of her phone, typing quickly. She looked up at them and Duncan saw her clouded gaze darken further at Kenzie’s appearance.

“Mackenzie, what are you wearing.” It wasn’t a question as much as a demand--an angry demand for a satisfying answer.

“Mom, please, lay off her.”

“Duncan, don’t take that fucking condescending tone with me. And you’re living together now, what a fucking joke. Absolutely thoughtless.” Annette stood and her eyes flashed--she wore an asymmetrical black crepe dress with a draped neck, and pointed black stilettos. Today she also wore a gold necklace with three round diamond stones in addition to her customary diamond earrings--more jewelry than Duncan had seen on her since the last photoshoot they’d had, which was several months ago. Her look was undoubtedly, undeviatingly Annette. But what you don’t seem to understand is Kenzie is not going to dress like you. She’s going to dress like her.

“Annette, the paparazzi swarmed my apartment building--” Duncan looked down at Kenzie to see her face creased with anxiety, her little voice distraught, floating up to his ear towards Annette. He could see how much she was trying to keep her temper, and it made him want to shield her from Annette’s cruelly dark eyes.

“Then you find another fucking apartment, sweetie,” Annette snapped at her, and he felt Kenzie flinch in his hand, as if she wanted to run away from the scene. No, baby, no, remember what I said. Show her who’s boss. You’re the boss now, Kenzie. You’re in charge. You belong here. Show her.

Annette was openly sneering at Kenzie now, her eyes taking on that unnerving, deeply dark sheen they’d had over dinner at Plume. River was standing by nervously, not speaking, seemingly afraid to butt into the sudden vehemency of Annette’s manner--a photographer, camera in hand, a woman with boxy glasses and salt-and-pepper hair, had come up to her and whispered in her ear, and she was hurriedly whispering back, head turned towards the encounter. Clouds had drifted over the sun while they were in the trailer, and it suddenly seemed as though it might rain--yeah, really fucking rain, Duncan thought. Kenzie suddenly gripped his hand so hard it hurt, and he flinched, looking down at her--her eyes were staring into Annette’s, and they were swirling with the gold sheen usually saved for him alone--a sheen so bright it almost hurt him to look into them. Her other hand had come around to grip at the diamond moon around her neck, tightly, so tight he could see her fingers turning red. His head snapped up to his mother’s face; she seemed caught inside Kenzie’s whirling gaze, and her own took on a dazed expression, as though she were trying to remember something she’d forgotten.

“Duncan and I are together now. You can’t tear us apart.” Kenzie’s voice was trembling at first--then, it evened and soothed, and became very clear. “Please accept my presence in his life, Annette. He’s told you this before: your disapproval will not end our attachment. But it will bring him sadness. And it will bring you sadness, too.” Kenzie’s voice was mesmerizing in this moment; Duncan remembered flashes of the vision of her last night, a vision that seemed to be slowly fading from his understanding in the fabric of reality; the Kenzie with white hair that had flowers like little universes, eyes like whirling cosmic vistas, a gown made of the intricate geometries of some unknown intergalactic fiber, wings of some unfathomable divinity. This voice is like the voice of that Kenzie. That Kenzie is afraid of no earthly being. The air suddenly felt very heavy, as though a thunderstorm were about to begin.

“Please, don’t direct your anger on us anymore.” Duncan felt Kenzie’s hand grow strangely cold for a moment--cold, then surge back into warmth, like hot water dumped over ice. Her grip on him relaxed--the heavy feeling in the air seemed to dissipate, and he took a deep breath.

The clouds moved a little from their place over the sun, slowly allowing it to peek out again. Annette was strangely quiet--her expression had changed from one of anger to the dazed expression of confusion to one that now seemed to have forgotten her anger entirely; her annoyance remained, but it was less pointed towards Kenzie, now directed at River and the photographer standing to the sidelines. They didn’t seem to really understand or recall what had just happened--River was blinking rapidly, as though disoriented from a loud sound.

“What are we all standing around for?” Annette barked at her. “Are we doing this or not? I have a full schedule today, Ms. Tsukamoto.”

“Kenzie,” Duncan leaned down to her, his lips to her ear. “What did you do?”

“I--I don’t know,” she whispered, looking at Annette. Duncan’s mother was moving away from them, talking to River with a clipped voice. The photographer was interjecting, pointing to the fountain and gesturing. “I think...I just told her to stop. Stop being the way she’s being to us, to me and you, to us being together. I think it was like...a kind of command. Baby, I don’t know.” Kenzie was pressing a hand against her forehead, breathing slowly through her nose, out through her mouth, her red lips shining in the afternoon sun.

“Okay, baby. Okay. Let’s get through this, okay? We can do this.” He soothed his thumb over her hand. Kenzie nodded, weakly. He led her over to where Annette was now sitting by the fountain.

“Hey, I’m Anna Peterson.” The photographer approached them, peering at them over her glasses, pushing a hand through her hair. She seemed either unfazed by what had just happened, or seemed to have forgotten it entirely. Kenzie was still pressing her hand on her forehead, but Duncan nodded to her.

“You two are...really something. I have to get some shots of the two of you alone, I think. We’ll do something with Annette while River’s conducting the interview, but I’d love for you to pose for me a few times together without her. If that’s alright with you.”

“Is that okay, Kenz?” Duncan looked down at her. She nodded a little. He turned to Anna. “Do you have any water bottles?” Anna trotted over to one of the trailers and emerged a few moments later with an unopened plastic water bottle, handing it out to Kenzie. Kenzie reached for it with shaking hands; Duncan grasped it, opening it for her. “Thanks baby,” she whispered, sipping at it carefully. River was already asking Annette questions--Duncan felt weary at the prospect of trying to lie about his intentions for the company, and the longer he could put it off today, probably for the better. Anna eyed them both again--Duncan noted how impatient she seemed to start with the camera on them, fiddling her fingers over its black-and-silver surface, hopping from side to side--and said “How about we do a couple shots right now? Just some warm-up stuff. How about over here?” She gestured with one hand to where groups of blushing bourbon roses were clustered in two adjacent bushes, about a yard away from where River and Annette were going back and forth, Annette’s clipped voice carrying over to them.

Duncan nodded, gently pulling Kenzie in front of one of the bushes, to a spot of partial shade under an oak tree that grew beside them--she still clutched the water bottle in one hand, and Duncan could see the moisture gathering along the outside trembling as the bottle shook in her unsteady grip. Anna was already snapping away, having started as soon as he and Kenzie began to move; Duncan kept his hand threaded through hers, thinking soft waves of love towards her. I don’t know what you did to Mom, Kenz, but it worked. It’s like she forgot we’re even here. It was like the power we pushed over her at dinner, but even stronger. I think the powers we can use, whatever the fuck they are, whatever they mean--I think they’re getting stronger. I think we can direct them better, control them better. Kenzie set the water bottle down in the crook of the oak tree’s roots, and came close to him, her hands reaching out for him. Duncan couldn’t stop himself; he pressed his palm against her jaw, heard the furious clicking of Anna’s camera.

I still don’t really know what I did though, baby. Kenzie was looking up at him, her hazel eyes drifting into different colors as the clouds partially obscured the sun again--Anna paused for a moment, and said “God, that’s lovely, just keep doing that, the way you’re looking at each other, Duncan, keep touching her that way,” towards them. Their bodies were leaning close; the roses framed behind them. Gladly, he thought. I’ll gaze at you and hold you all day, angel baby. Kenzie seemed to be calming, the trembling running down from her limbs. Duncan moved his hands down to hold Kenzie at the waist--she pressed into him, sighing, her chin angling up. Gaze away, her gold thought drifted against him. I love you so. In your eyes I am content. They’re home.

“Mackenzie, look over here.” The camera was snapping rapidly, repeatedly. Kenzie glanced to Anna--almost involuntarily, it seemed, she laid her temple against Duncan’s chest, and his hand came up against her hair--he gazed down at the aureate crown of her golden-chestnut hair and pressed his lips against it as she glanced over at Anna, her little red lips parted just slightly, her eyes shining with the damp residue of her emotions. Duncan savored the warmth of her despite the hotness of the day, the feeling of the lace of her dress under his fingers, the dip of her waist, the cascade of her hair, the heady scent of her. You’re my home too, baby. You’re the resting place of my soul.

“Wow,” Anna said. She seemed to have forgot about them, in a sense; seemed to be thinking about the photos rather than their physical presence. “That’s going to be a final shot for absolute certain.” Kenzie turned her face into him now, her eyes fluttering closed, overwhelmed; Duncan looked to Anna’s camera now, and couldn’t stop the protective wave that fell over him, his resentment towards the world around them that didn’t seem to grasp how extraordinary Kenzie was, how luminously beautiful within, brighter than a hundred other souls combined, how desperately she had to be protected from anyone who would wish her harm, how divine it was that her spirit was on earth at all. “Gorgeous, gorgeous, fuck, perfect,” Anna was murmuring, coming around their right side. “Like a fairy tale. Your eyes, Duncan, they’re like sharp little polished sapphires. Hold that pose for me, please.” Kenzie looked up at him; they really are, she thought to him. They are like sapphires. I love your eyes, baby.

And your eyes are like autumn leaves dusted with golden evening lights. She pulled away from him, grinning in embarrassment--Duncan clutched at her arms, pulling her back to him, pressing his lips into the bottom of her jaw as he lifted her little body up to him, Anna clicking her camera all the while. No baby, let me. Let me tell you how beautiful you are, Kenzie. Let me tell you and know how sincerely I mean it, my body and soul aching for you, hungry for you every minute. Please know how much I love you.

I know baby, I know. And I love you--so much. So fucking much. So much it’s almost hard to look at you, to feel all that love from you, because I feel like the love I feel for you and the love I feel coming from you is so great--together, it’s like they’re going to burst my heart into a thousand pieces.

Let it burst, then. Mine will too. The fragments of both of us will still find each other again. I’d find you if you were at the opposite end of the universe, baby. I’d search for you until I found you. I swear on everything. On my life, on my death, on every star. I promise. I would fucking find you. His hands were threading through her hair, their lips not quite touching but their mouths hovering near each other; Duncan resurfaced from the intoxicating nexus of her, glancing over at Anna again; the older woman was gaping openly at them, her camera hovering in her hands, forgotten. Then she shook her head as if to clear it, and nodded at him, mouthing the word again. Perfect.

------

The interview, so far as it concerned him and Kenzie, went surprisingly smoothly--whatever influence Kenzie had had on Annette seemed to extend through the remainder of their time with River and Anna; the photographer took several shots of them around the fountain, Duncan standing behind his mother in one with Kenzie sitting in the opposite direction, and another with Kenzie and Duncan sitting together and Annette standing, her gaze off to the side. Duncan wondered with mounting impatience what the photos would look like when the article was released; wondered if by the time it was published it wouldn’t already be obsolete in context. Annette had already given answers to several questions from River regarding the company that Duncan knew were not entirely accurate or truthful--and answers he knew would not coincide with the new model for the company when he gained majority share. Duncan knew Kenzie was getting glimpses of his inner frustration as the afternoon wore on; she would glance at him with concern deep in her eyes, and reach for his hand, her lips pressing together. Better not to talk much anyway, baby, she said to him, secretly; that way you won’t be branded a liar later. And Annette can’t pretend like you went along with all of this just to turn on her. I’m with you, baby. We should talk to Momby soon about the board of directors. I’m sure she’ll say yes. We’re going to make it through all of this--and then we’ll have our whole lives ahead of us.

Her voice inside his head had soothed him as the afternoon wore on, and by the time River was turning off her recorder and closing her notes, Annette seemed to be in a mood that could almost approach good for once. She was glancing down at her phone with a neutral expression; then, it seemed to cloud again as she received a text. Kenzie had been whispering into his ear, giggling over Claire asking if Harris was single, trailing kisses along his skin there. Annette looked up at him, and he knew something was wrong.

“Your uncle’s been taken to the hospital again.” She was standing, her lips pressing in a thin line, the clouds having returned strongly overhead--this time they seemed to be here to stay, having multiplied and extended over the sky, so the day was no longer bright or as hot. Annette’s hand was coming up to brush her hair off her shoulder, and her expression became unreadable, dark, hidden. “I have to meet him there. We’ll have to postpone the Forbes interview.”

“Mom, I could do it without you--”

“No. I don’t think so.” She seemed to falter for a moment, her eyes skirting over to Kenzie beside him, who was staring back at her solemnly, sympathy in her hazel eyes. Kenzie forgives you for everything, I know she does. She always does. She wants to be your friend. She wants to be a daughter to you. I know that, even if she won’t say it, won’t really say it, not yet, not even to me. Annette’s tone wasn’t angry and incredulous, as it had been--now, it was tinged with a sort of weary resignation, and a hidden sadness that she refused to show outwardly. “I think perhaps it’s better to cancel it entirely. There’s too much happening in the company right now to give a business-forward interview, anyway. With the company itself soon to be in such flux--it seems unwise. This one is done, besides.” Annette suddenly looked very tired. Duncan reached out to his mother--she gripped under his arms, and he knew in a rush how badly she had wanted to touch him, then. Knew that she was mourning his uncle already, in her heart of hearts, a heart she never showed to anyone but him, and then only in rare flashes that seemed to disappear right after the instant they emerged.

“Mom. I love you.”

“My sweet Duncan.” River and Anna had gone away, back to one of the trailers, and Harris stood with his mother’s bodyguard, Becket, a huge, menacing man who rarely spoke, at the far edge of the garden by the gate, too far away to hear any conversation from the distance; the Rose Garden had grown oddly quiet, the only sounds the drift of the summer wind and the trickle of the water, and Kenzie was sitting on the fountain beside where he and his mother stood, staring at the ground, her hair falling down her shoulders, her hand clutching at the moon pendant at her throat. As he glanced at her he could see that she had tears gathered in the corners of her eyes--he glanced back at his mother, caught between their emotions.

“You were always such a perceptive, sensitive child.” Annette was loosening her grip on his arms, stepping back from him. “I fought to steel your nerves for the world outside. It’s cruel and unkind and ruthlessly hard, and I knew it would crush you if I didn’t prepare you for it. I’m sorry if I...I’m sorry if I have sometimes been cold to you. I tried to...I tried to protect you. I have tried to. You had to be fearless to survive this world, and I knew it, and I became obsessed with my need to prepare you. I wonder if I--” she turned her face to look over his shoulder, into Kenzie’s eyes--seemed to notice the tears there. “I wonder if I’ve been too stubborn regarding certain...things. As your uncle worsens, I...”

Annette’s eyes grew misty--she smiled, but the smile was achingly sad to him.

“I wonder if I haven’t confused the things that truly matter with what seemed to for so long.”

Duncan watched, his body going stiff with shock, as Annette went around him and reached down to Kenzie with one shaking hand. I’ve never seen Mom shake like that. It’s my uncle. Bill’s dying. He’s really dying. And I think she just realized that. Really realized it, and began to accept it. He’s going to die very soon.

Kenzie reached up to her--as their fingers grasped each other, Duncan watched (felt) the golden wave of Kenzie’s energy (her attention, her kindness, her goodness, her love) fall down over his mother in its quiet, cascading swell. Annette sighed--the sigh seemed to be tinged with surprise, as though whatever she was receiving from Kenzie was moving beyond words, tinged with too much feeling to resist. Duncan couldn’t quite glimpse it in its entirety--it seemed to be a secret of some kind that Kenzie passed into his mother, something for her and her alone. Duncan felt another sharp wave of shock as he watched Annette lean down to Kenzie’s little cheek and kiss it, a tiny, short peck of her lips to the soft skin of his beloved’s sweet face. The kiss, he knew instantly, was sincere.

And then the moment passed, and Annette walked away from them, towards Becket and the gate, slipping her dark sunglasses over her eyes, shielding him and Kenzie from her emotions entirely. The big man ushered her through the gate, and they were lost from view.

“Dunny,” Duncan heard Kenzie’s little voice before he turned to her, heard the tears in it, and they weren’t tears of sadness, not really--they’d become tears of relief, he saw as he looked into her eyes, their whirling gold telling him clearly, and he rushed to her and gathered her up in his arms, and she was so small and her body shook against him, and Duncan touched her cheek where his mother had kissed her, and it seemed to burn under his fingers, burn like it had been held close to a flame, and he held her among the quiet roses, the sweet-scented summer wind falling against them, and the moment soothed and dissolved, and they lingered in it for a long while.

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