#(as a hair stylist he interacts with a few dozen people a day)

[hell0mega]

i heard the flu was really bad this year already. and I'm allergic to eggs so it's hard to find a vaccine i can take. yet i haven't gotten the flu in years. this is bullshit

#bf stop getting sick and passing it to me challenge. level: impossible #(as a hair stylist he interacts with a few dozen people a day) #(and most of his coworkers have children) #(lots of exposure there) #i got hand foot and mouth disease once from him from a child client #that was the WORST i wouldn't wish that on anyone #i didn't know it existed and i was like what the FUCK IS GOING ON #god my heart is POUNDING

[jiminzfilter]

slow dancing in the night

→ Pairing. Taehyung x reader

→ Genre. established relationship, fluff, slice of life, model!taehyung, model!reader, taehyung missed you a lot, he is starving (his words not mine), gets a bit hot by the last 40 lines, mentions of oral (f) so I guess this counts as mature content, implied smut, making out (kinda), there is a bit of swearing

→ Summary. what could possibly be better than coming home after a long day of work to someone you love and missed a lot ?

→ Word count. 3.2k (!!!)

→ because I wrote this over a year ago when I still didn't know what I was doing with my writing, I had to go through a deep process of editing and re-writing before posting it. This might not be my best work but it's still a fic that I really really like :,)

→ song rec. slow dancing in the dark, Joji// still with you, Jungkook

Fridays have always been exhausting days for both you and your boyfriend, especially on runways weeks. As models, you were put under a lot of pressure.

Pressure to be perfect, to smile but never smile too much, to look good, to not fall on stage.

Falling has to be the most tragic thing that can happen to your carreer as a model, the hungry stares of thousands of photographers and reporters ready to share the latest news to the press.

Yeah, it was exhausting.

This week was no exception... or maybe it was since, this time, you were the only one working until late.

It’s four in the morning and you’re already on your way out - kind of running late, oBviOusLy - quietly wishing your boyfriend a good day.

He is not working today.

That lucky bastard.

He gets to enjoy his free day in bed, lazing around, while you work your ass off all day. He mumbles something that you assume is a sort of goodbye. He is still asleep.

You look at him one last time before leaving the room and smile. He looks so peaceful.

You still remember the day you met, by pure luck even though you both call that fate. That was 5 years ago, when you just debuted your career as a model and were not that comfortable around high heels.

Okay no. Let’s be real.

You hated wearing them because you couldn’t walk in heels higher than 5 cm.

It’s still a wonder how you managed to make it in the first place.

Were you wearing flat shoes for the audition ? Damn you really must’ve done an impression on the judges if they made you pass without the heels try-on.

Your first day at the agency was chaotic to say the least. Your manager made you walk around the building, to visit she said. She made you wear heels. HEELS. That devilish person.

But, thank to that, you got to meet Taehyung. Your eyes landed on him as you were visiting the lounge and couldn’t tear them away from his figure. The poor man had to witness you fall down because you weren’t watching your steps anymore.

I mean.

Who could blame you ??

That was Kim frEaking Taehyung

!!!

He even came to help you get back on your feet and asked if you were alright, kind of amused.

It’s not everyday you see someone falling down in here, let alone a newbie

Let’s be honest, you were so embarrassed.

First day of work and you’re already failing falling.

That night when you came home, you spent the night wearing heels and prayed really hard you’d never have to face him again. After all, the building was big enough and there were enough workers that you could avoid Taehyung easily

If only

The NeXt day, you were told that you had a couple shooting, with none other that Kim Taehyung.

GreaT

He would occasionally tease you about your fall and check on you to see if everything was alright. He watched you carefully as you were walking around with heels.

From up close he looked even more handsome.... :)

After this day, you started talking with Taehyung more and more. He introduced you to everyone around the agency. You met outside of work, got to know each other. You both became regally good friends but there was something lingering in the air, in the way you’d look at each other or stood so close to him after a couple glasses of wine that you could breathe his air.

So what was bound to happen happened and you went from friends a to lovers without really noticing it.

He was still your best friend...somehow

Eventually, you took things to the next level and moved in together... maybe a half and a year ago or so ? You’ve never been happier in your life

And, well, you’d actually be happier if you could spend the day with boyfriend instead of running around trying to find god knows which accessories you need for the rehearsal.

8 in the morning is noT a time to be doing cardio.

Especially while wearing heels

Become a model they said, it’ll be fun they said

“Y/n! Come here please I need you to try on this dress before you go!” Your personal stylist calls “I made sure to fix it yesterday so it’d be a perfect fit for the show”

You stop your tracks and go to her “make this quick i have to go get changed before 9 otherwise I’m screwed. Why did they even decide to do the rehearsals so early today ?” You sigh, frustrated, and put on the dress she’s handing you “thank you”

“Okayyy...it looks great. Gold looks amazing on you.” She smoothes the dress and gives an approving nod, visibly satisfied ; “You’ll look perfect for the Grand Finale. Oh god it’s already 8:30 you better go before Mr.Kim throws a fit because you’re late”

You both giggle ; “thank you for fixing the dress Naeun, see you later today. Well, probably tonight. Byeeee”

The rehearsal seems to never end. You’re squeezed in dozens of different outfits, gorgeous for sure but sO tight. Mr. Kim, the one who organised the runway, is such a perfectionist that you have to re-do some things multiple times before he’s satisfied. One time the lighting isn’t right, the other the models are walking too fast, not on beat and so on.

Everyone hates him for that but he always makes the best shows so you just follow.

After multiple tries, the rehearsal finally comes to an end. It’s already 4PM. You barely get time to breathe and go pee before you’re back into the ‘running-around-to-find-my-dress-and-fix-my-makeup-oh-god-i-gotta-be-on-stage’ crazy mess.

Walking on the runway feels amazing, running backstage is terrible.

It’s so hot and small back there you can hardly move around well.

It takes 2 hours for the whole fashion show to be over, one more for pictures outside the catwalk and chat with reporters. Since you’re kind of a famous model now, you get invited to the afterparty and spend few extra hours interacting with some celebrities that attended the show. Other models were invited and you’re happy to see familiar faces amongst them. Jimin, an old colleague and friend of yours, comes your way and compliments you. You chat with him for a while before deciding you’ve had enough for the day and leave the party. A few more people greet you on your way out.

A taxi takes you back to you company, where you left your stuff in the morning. You spend an extra thirty minutes getting rid of your heavy makeup and striping off that gorgeous but awfully tight golden dress you’ve been wearing ever since the end of the runway.

Now, you can FinaLLy go home. yassssss

It’s almost 12am when you leave the agency and climb into yet another taxi. The ride is quiet, background music playing over the car’s radio, and you take some time to look at what you were gifted for your performance : fancy makeup products, accessories, pieces of clothing-but not those from the runway, you sadly never get to keep those. Being kinda famous has its perks :,)

You then decide it’s time to warn Taehyung you’ll arrive soon and send him a few texts. As if he was waiting for them, he instantly replies saying he’ll be waiting for you and proceeds to spam you with heart emojis. Sometimes, it looks like this man just discovered what emojis were and is trying to use them as much as possible. What a child…

It’s way past midnight when you finally step into your duplex and the first thing you notice is that the place is way too quiet.

Maybe Tae went back to sleep, who knows, it’s super late after all…

:(

You remove shoes and jacket and drop your bags in the entrance before going further and you call out quietly “anyone here? Tae, you sleeping?”

There is a faint glow from the tv on your right but the sound has been muted.

Weird…

“Taehyung ?" You call one last time

Suddenly, two strong arms wrap themselves around your waist and you’re pulled into someone’s chest. You gasp, almost scream, but soften up when you feel the warmth on your back

“Hi baby” a deep voice says in your ear, sending chills down your spine “I missed you”

You turn around and are very pleased to see a handsome face and a warm exposed chest your boyfriend smiling at you.

“Mhm, missed you too” You wrap your arms around him and rest your head against his chest, happy to hear his heartbeat. Taehyung places his head atop of yours and gently strokes your hair. You tighten your grasp around him and hum.

Few seconds later, he lifts your chin up and gently lays a kiss on your lips.

“How are you doing?” He asks, his right hand cupping your cheek. The warmth of it is comforting.

“Exhausted, but you know how it goes” You shrug and he smiles

“Not too tired for dinner ? I could cook something if you want”

“Mhm... let me just go shower and put something else on” You sadly let go of him

“Sure, go ahead” he whispers and you give him a kiss before regretfully tearing yourself away from him.

You walk up the stairs to your bedroom, where you find the bed undone. You smile, Taehyung never really liked making the bed and, very honestly, neither did you. You slump onto the mattress and bury your face into the pillows, inhaling his scent. Lavender. Relaxing. Just like he is.

After a warm shower, you find a t-shirt Taehyung left on a chair in the room and wear it. It’s big enough to reach your thighs and, if you were more energised, you’d probably stay like this. You grab large pants and put them on.

Once again, you smell lavender all around you.

When you’re back in the living area, you see Taehyung busying himself in the kitchen. He hears your steps and his eyes find yours as a smile appears on his face when he notices that you’re wearing his shirt

“My shirt looks better on you than it’d ever do on me” He teases, his gaze longing on your frame.

“maybe I should keep it then” you smile and ask ; ”Do you need any help?”

“no no no no no, you’ve worked enough already. Go and have some rest. I'll call you when everything’s ready okay?”

Too tired to argue on this anyways -and thankful for the given rest-, you go lay down on the couch, your body oriented to let you look at Taehyung.

As he hums and moves to the chill music that was playing in the background, you start to detail his beautiful figure. From the curl of his dark hair (which you knoW are so so soft to the touch) to his beautiful profile and his nose you love so much down to his broad shoulder and then his tanned abs you see from time to time when the opened shirt of his pyjama moves according to his steps.

oH! Let’s not forget his perfect hands gripping at the pan’s handle while he cooks… vegetables? Something like that yeah.

Taehyung is giving his best into what he’s cooking. Vegetables with rice, that’s the only thing he could do quickly.

Quickly as in less than half an hour, unlike his friend Namjoon who’d take this time just to cook the rice.

The music he put earlier is slowly starting to bore him. After washing his hands, he reaches out for his phone and plays a different playlist. It’s one you name yourself when the two of you were still friends (aka not dating yet). “Taetae fm” because you once joked he should have his own broadcasting channel on the radio. He’d always criticise the music playing so why not have his own channel 👀

“You know Y/n, I actually watched the fashion show live this afternoon. I mean, of course you know because I always do that haha. Anyways, you really were the highlight of the runway tonight. And I’m not saying this in a biased point of view. Okay I might be a bit biased as your boyfriend but I swear that it’s true!! You literally shone back there, especially in that gold dress you were wearing and even the audience was impressed by your looks maybe you didn’t see it on stage but some cameras filmed their reactions and everyone was looking at you. Really, you were so gorge-oh” Taehyung looks at you and smile fondly “Of course you’re asleep, baby”

He lets his phone aside and checks the now cooked food before making his way to the couch. There’s a blanket on the sofa, he covers you with it, scared you might get cold. Taehyung put a loose strand of hair behind your ear and places a kiss on your chin.

You slowly open your eyes and find yourself face to face with him. You both smile.

“Hi there beautiful” He whispers

“what time is it? Did I sleep until the morning?” You’re scared of having slept through the entire nap without realising

“almost 1:20am, I just finished cooking. I thought you might be cold so I went to cover you with the blanket. You should go enjoy the food while it’s still hot, imma go to the toilet”

You nod as an answer and watch him leave upstairs. Getting up from the warmth of the couch is the hardest part so you keep the soft blanket draped around your shoulders and walk towards the kitchen. You grab two bowls and two pairs of chopsticks that you place on the counter along with glasses and a bottle of water.

You then go take care of the rice and the vegetables, which you mix in the pan. The song playing changes and your favourite nighttime tune starts.

“I don’t want a friend, I want my life in two” you sing along

“Waiting to get there, waiting for you” Taehyung’s voice startles you as he grabs your wrists and pulls your back close to him. You smile as he makes the both of you dance slowly. You put his arms around you so it’s like he’s hugging you from the back. You swing around for a little while, enjoying the close proximity as you both softly hum the song, making your body vibrate against each other, moving in perfect coordination.

“I love you” he whispers in your ear and then kisses it, sending chills down your spine, before lifting one of your arm up to make you turn so that you’re now facing him “did my baby sleep well?” You nod as you place your arms around his waist, paying attention to go under the shirt so you’re touching as much skin as possible.

Taehyung chuckles before asking you in that same, chill-sending, low deep voice ; “Still hungry? Because I’m starving”

If you didn’t just wake up, you would’ve definitely caught that lust in his eyes and also the fact that this wasn’t as innocent as it seemed.

As an answer, your stomach growls pretty loudly, making Taehyung laugh . “I’ll take that as a yes. Sit down, princess. Let me take care of you”

You do as he says, jumping on a stool, detailing all of his moves. You only realise how hungry you actually were when you start eating. Rice with vegetables has never tastes better. You eat everything in less than 5 minutes when you’d usually take your time to finish your plate.

“Damn, that was a well needed dinner! Thank you Tae” you mess a bit with his soft locks

“Imagine me who was waiting for you all evening!! I was hungry too” He pouts.

“Oh come on, I was working today. Cardio in heels isn’t the best way to wake up, let alone spend the whole day standing in tight clothes. When I think you has a day off… pfff. I saw the bed, I’m sure you stayed there all day, you lazyyyyyyyyy ass.”

He mumbles some gibberish and you giggle, knowing that you're right. He looks away, crossing his arms and obviously sulking. You leave your stool and stand behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You leave a few kisses on his cheek and neck

“- Don’t be such a babyy. You know I love you.

- You do?

- of course, you dummy” you bop his nose "Sooo, what do we have for desert?

- You. Uh I mean!! Yoghurt, fruits, cakes, fruits…anything” he clears his throat

“Great! What do you prefer?” You open the fridge

“ I’d very happily eat you out honestly but an apple sounds good”

“Oh sur- wait whaT!?” You snap your head to him, eyes wide open

what did he sayyyyyyyy?????

whaT am I even supposed to say noW oh my goddddd

You close the fridge’s door, suddenly not so yogurt-hungry.

There’s a sudden silence between the two of you, only disturbed by the music still playing in the background.

“Mhm? What is it?” He turns around to face you, asking so innocently “did I say something wrong ?”

This man knows what he is doing for sure. Has he ever been that straightforward before ?

Taehyung stands and closes the distance between your bodies, now towering over you.

He lowers himself slightly to speak in your ear “what is it baby? Mhm?” You feel his smile on your cheek when he lays a kiss on it “what happened to my all proud and fierce y/n who was so confident telling me I was being lazy all day, huh? Tell me” He lays another kiss on your temple

OkaY

now he’s being a tease

Great

1 A.M. fluffy and bare chested teaser Taehyung

gReAT

Anyhow, it’s a good turn on.

Really.good.freaking.turn.on

Being tired and turned on was definitely not a good mix for you. You could feel the heat rising in your body and hear your heart pounding in your ears.

“Tae…”

He laughs gently seeing you silently begging for more, brushing your face with his lips, teasing another kiss.

“Tsk tsk, you gotta speak darling, I cannot guess”

You should calm down and go to sleep, it’s 1am and you have work tomorrow you should definitely-

“Fuck-“ You sigh and grab his face, sealing your lips together while closing your eyes.

It doesn’t take long for that kiss to turn into a heated make out session.

You grab and pull some of his dark curls while his hands travels under his your shirt.

You break the kiss just a second to catch your breath.

“Have i ever told you you have the perfect body?” Taehyung asks

“Did I ever tell you how perfect you are??” You reply

He laughs, deep raspy laugh.

You’re too tired for this

And because you’re tired, you’re even more horny :D

Taehyung puts his hands behind your thighs and you jump, locking your legs around his waist, hands still in his hair, lips against his while carries you to the bedroom.

He leaves your lips to travel down your jaw and then collarbone. You throw your head back.

Taehyung gently lays you on the mattress of your king sized bed and makes it his personal mission to pleasure you tonight.

#taehyung fics #taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung au #taehyung fluff #bts fanfic #taehyung #taehyung ff #fluff #implied smut #model taehyung #bts fics #taehyung oneshot #taehyung one shots #taehyung one-shots #taehyung smut #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung au #it's 2am what am I doing #slow dancing in the night

[fancywasmyname1]

Harden My Heart (1) Part One

Warning: Language

IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, LET ME KNOW! 

“We’re doing this for your best interest, Caroline.”

I stared at the piece of paper, pulling at the edges. “It’s not only the best thing for you but it’s also going to help our family out as well.”

I stayed silent as I listened to my mother try to plead her and my father’s case. I thought I was coming home for a nice family dinner, but I was instead dropped in the lion’s den, preparing to be ripped to shreds. “He’s a good boy, Caroline.” My father spoke. “He’s going to take very good care of you, better than any other man can.”

“I’d rather slit my wrist and bleed out on the street than go with that man.” I muttered, earning looks of disapproval from my parents.

“Don’t say things like that, Caroline.” I looked up at my mom.

I wanted so badly to tell her off but I knew that she and my dad were under enough stress. They didn’t need me mouthing off to them, even though it would make me feel a little better.

“Now-“ She spoke as she stood up from the couch across from me. “Reggie will be here any minute and you’re still dressed like a slouch.” I looked down at my baggy shirt and gym shorts. “You need to go upstairs, shower, and make yourself look presentable.”

“Presentable?” I questioned.

She let out a huff, her nerves hanging on by a string. “Presentable, Caroline-” Her voice filled with annoyance. “Like every blushing bride-to-be should look.” _________________________________________________

“I’m gonna throw up.”

I stared at myself in the mirror, the Ivory gown staring back at me.

“Just take a couple deep breaths, Caroline.” My eyes drifted to my mom’s reflection, her purple dress hugging her small feature. “It’s just nerves.”

Just nerves.

I had been hearing that phrase for the past two weeks. Meeting a man that I was to marry in less than a week… Just nerves. Planning a wedding for over 300 guest… Just nerves. The day finally being here and my life being signed away forever to a man I don’t even know… Just nerves.  

Today was the day that I had been dreading since my parents dropped the nuptial bomb. When you’re a little girl, you dream of your wedding day. You dream of the beautiful dress, the fancy reception, and the man of your dreams standing at the alter waiting for you. You basically have it all planned by the age of 10, but fate has a funny way of fucking it all up. Never in a million years would I have guessed that I would be in the situation I’m in now. I never imagined that I would be standing here, wearing a beautiful wedding dress, waiting to walk down the aisle to a man that I didn’t know or even love for that matter. I would be sharing the biggest and supposedly happiest day of my life with a room full of strangers and maybe a dozen of my own family and friends. When I pictured myself getting married, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to be happy. I was supposed to be in love.

“Reggie is gonna die when he sees you, sweetheart.”

Reggie Kray.

There’s not much to say about Reginald Kray, seeing as I barely know the guy. The few times that I had any interaction with him, he seemed cold and uptight. Almost like a stick was shoved up his ass and he had no way of getting it out. He didn’t talk much, which was okay by me. From what I heard from my parents, Reggie was a twin but never spoke of his sibling. It was all a big mystery when it came to Reggie Kray. He walked around with an entourage of guys, all dressed in suits, black suits. There was always one main guy with him at all times, almost like he was afraid to be by himself. The guy was just as uptight and cold as Reggie. He never spoke the couple times that I was around him. He just stood there like he was a fixture of the house. Was it going to be like this when Reggie and I were finally married? Am I getting a two-for-one kind of deal?

“Five minutes before show time!”

I snapped out of my thoughts as the wedding planner barged through the door. I watched as the stylist placed her finishing touches on my mom’s hair, giving her a smile in the mirror. Everyone in the room buzzed around, fixing stray hairs, touching up makeup, and grabbing anything they needed.

“Is the bride ready?”

I stayed silent, watching as everyone scattered around me. I felt like my world was closing in on me. My chest felt tight. My throat felt like it was closing. I wanted to rip this fucking dress off my body and throw myself in the nearest river. I wanted to be anywhere but here!

“She’s rea-“

“Why me?” I cut my mom off. “Why do I have to do this? Why do I have to marry a man I don’t even fucking know?!” I yelled out, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. “There’s a million girls out there that he could have picked. What’s so fucking special about me?”

Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and stared at me. I could see pity in some of their eyes, while others looked at me like I was insane. If they were in my shoes, they would be freaking out too. “Caroline-“ My mom barked. “You need to calm down!”

“No!” I started tugging at my dress. “I want to know why he fucking picked me?!”

The wedding planner began ushering everyone out of the room, leaving my mom and I alone.

“I’m taking this dress off-“ I reached my hands behind my back, searching for the zipper. “I’m leaving.”

My mom suddenly turned into the Flash, swatting my hands away from the back of the dress. “You need to get your shit together, Caroline Taylor!” She seethed. “You have a church full of people waiting for you and you’re throwing a fucking hissy-fit. Do you know how ridiculous you are sounding right now? You know how many girls would kill to be in the spot you’re in right now?” 
I stayed silent.

“You wanna know why Reggie Kray picked you?” She spoke. “You need to ask him yourself. You need to speak to that boy like he’s your husband. He’s the one that came to your father and I. He sought you out himself and your father and I agreed that he would be the best match for you.”

“You don’t even know him, mo-“

“You don’t know him either, Caroline!” She pressed. “You’re not even giving him the time of day. You need to get to know him because you’re gonna be with him for a very long time.”

“I can get it annulled or filed for divorce.”

My mom glared at me, “No daughter of mine is gonna get a divorce.” Her voice was serious and low. “You’re going to learn to love that boy, you hear me?”

Before I could answer, the wedding planner popped back in, telling us that it was time to start. I felt like my life was failing. At that moment, I knew that I couldn’t back out. There was no way my mom would let me leave this church without Reggie beside me and the name Kray behind Caroline…

The Bridal Chorus was a song that caused butterflies to erupt in everyone’s stomach. It meant that the event was finally happening and the bride would be ushered down the aisle to her awaiting groom. It was a happy moment for everyone, everyone except me.

As my dad and I started making our way down the pathway, I looked around at all the guest in attendance. I didn’t recognize half the people there, and those I did know, looked at me with so much hope and happiness. I wonder if they could see emptiness and sadness when I looked at them? I took a glance ahead at the alter where Reggie was standing. His three-piece suit hugged his body like a glove, his hair slicked back perfectly. He looked very handsome. As we grew closer, I my eyes connected with his. Heat flooded my core as his eyes burned into my skin, his eyes examining my front top to bottom.

“Who gives this woman to this man?”

The music stopped as the priest’s voice rang throughout the venue.

I felt my dad’s arm tighten around mine, “Her mother and I do.” He spoke proudly.

The priest nodded his head, giving him a small smile. I turned toward my dad, his hands reaching for my lace veil. I wanted to burst into tears as I locked eyes with him. He gave me a reassuring smile as he lifted the veil away from my face, placing a kiss on my cheek.  
 “I love you.” He whispered.

I remained silent as he pulled away, reaching for my right hand, leading me towards Reggie.

“Take good care of her, son.” My dad spoke as he placed my hand into Reggie’s left. Reggie simply nodded his head before turning back toward the priest, pulling me with him as he ascending back up the small staircase.

His grip on my hand felt firm but not too tight. It almost felt comforting. Once we were in front of the priest, he ran his thumb over my skin in a reassuring manner, before softly releasing my hand. My hand felt like it was on fire, a good kind of fire.

“We are gathered here today to join this holy union between Reginald Kray and Caroline Taylor.”

I started to block out what the priest was saying after that first line. Here I was, standing in front a church full of people, marrying a man I’ve only known for two weeks. I didn’t know his favorite color, sports teams, what he liked, disliked. I just noticed that his eyes are green! I didn’t know what he did for a living, if he had a college degree. I’m not even sure how old he is but yet here I was. If I really wanted to, I could have left. I would have pushed past my mom, told everyone to kiss my ass, and got the fuck out of Dodge. That’s what I would have done if I wanted to leave. That little fighting spirit was still inside me, telling me to kick off the heels and run out of the church but I stayed. I can’t tell you why I stayed but here I was.

“Reggie, Caroline-”The priest spoke. “Please face each other for the reading of the vowels and ring exchange.”

We were soon facing, able to take each other in fully. He was a lot taller than I remembered. Frankly, he was even more attractive close up. The features that I should have noticed the first day I met him were in the spotlight as stared up at him. His chiseled jaw looked like it was carved by Michelangelo himself. His lips were full and the perfect shade of pink. His eyes were green, with little hints of blue and brown floating around. He was fucking perfect.

“Reggie, please repeat after me.” The priest began. “I, Reginald Kray, take thee Caroline Taylor, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”

“I, Reginald Kray, take thee Caroline Taylor, to be my lawfully wedded wife.” His English accent floating through the air like a warm breeze.

“To have and to hold, through sickness and through health, for richer and for poorer, until death do us part.”

“To have and to hold, through sickness and through health, for richer and for poorer, till death do us part-“ He slipped the diamond wedding sent on my left ring finger. “I promise to always protect you no matter what.” He spoke the last part, his eyes boring into mine.

My heart fluttered as I took in the extra vow he threw in. By the audience’s reaction, I wasn’t the only one who was shocked.

“Caroline, please repeat after me.” My eyes stayed connected with Reggie’s as the priest started speaking.

“I, Caroline Taylor, take thee Reginald Kray, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”

“I-“ I stopped short.

Every thought that I had about this wedding came crashing down on me once again. I was a couple words away from being married. A few little words separated me from a life of unknowns.

“I, Caroline Taylor, take thee Reginald Kray, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”

It was as if a sense of relief not only flooded through the priest, but Reggie and the entire church.

“To have and to hold, through sickness and through health, for richer or poorer, until death do us part.”

“To have and to hold, through sickness and through health, for richer or poorer, until death do us part.” I placed the silver band on his finger, his finger wrapping around mine once the ring was placed.

“I now have the pleasure of pronouncing you man and wife, Reggie, you may now kiss your gorgeous bride.”

I watched as he started leaning forward as I felt myself leaning back. Before I could get far enough away, his arm stretched behind my waist, bringing me flush against his hard body. In that moment, we were in our own world. He was looking at me and I was looking at him. Without further hesitation, he crashed his lips onto mine.  Shock was the first thing I felt but as the kiss deepened, pleasure and want replaced the feeling.

“Get a room, you two!”

Reggie was the first to break away, leaving me wanting more. When I finally came back to earth and realized that we were still in front of my parents, his parents, and especially the priest, embarrassment coursed through me. I just had a fucking make-out session in front of a priest, my parents, strangers, and God.

Reggie Kray was already turning me into a completely different person...

#Reggie Kray #reggie kray imagine #reggie kray fanfiction #reggie kray x oc #legend 2015 #legend movie #Tom Hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy x oc

[andtheyweredeskmates]

Of Latte’s and Lingerie- Chapter Seven

I finally finished finals tonight so I wrote a celebratory chapter. Hope you guys like it! 

Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6

AO3

TAGLIST: @catsssmeow

One would think that after years of working for his father, Adrien would have known what he was getting into. One would think.

Alas, he was still caught by surprise at the implications of attending his father’s events. His father’s fashion show was in four weeks and yet he found himself a little overwhelmed with the arrangements that needed to be made. For one, there was a car service, because driving his own car was apparently out of the question. For another, Adrien was required to see a stylist prior to the show and apparently nearly everyone had booked up. So after three hours of coordinating with Nathalie and calling in favors, he found someone willing to take him. Adrien was a little disappointed that he no longer had Nathalie to take care of booking these things for him and he had to take care of it himself. Likely because his father wanted Adrien to at least suffer a little from the consequences of “being an adult”.  Adrien supposed there was little room to complain. Besides, normal people made their own appointments for everything.

There was, of course things that Nathalie and his father did take care of. Like for example, the seating arrangements. There was a whole world of politics in the fashion industry that trickled down into every detail, down to the last chair. Adrien was grateful he wasn’t expected to entangle himself in that shit show of a web. Gabriel no doubt, knew his son well enough at the very least to know Adrien would never be good at dealing with that.

Despite all the fuss and a few hours of stress, Adrien was couldn’t help but be a little excited. After being cooped up for years he’d come to realize that at heart, he was a social butterfly. When it came down to it, events like this were always filled with people he’d known since he could crawl and there was comfort in the familiarity.

Adrien found himself wondering about Marinette. Surely she’d be there, in the front row. It was possible that Adrien would end up next to her. Adrien smiled at the thought. He knew how exciting it had to be to have her work shown at such an exclusive event and it made him happy to think about being able to see her get excited. He wondered how she would react. He still didn’t know her very well but he could tell she wore her heart on her sleeve. He could imagine her bubbling with joy when everyone saw how talented she was. Not that Adrien had ever seen her work but to work for Audrey Bourgeois or get a compliment from Gabriel Agreste, you had to be top notch. Adrien knew that better than anyone.

Adrien sat in his thoughts for a long time, laying across his leather couch and staring aimlessly at the ceiling. It was eight o’ clock on a Wednesday and he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. His train of thought had begun with the classic, should I cook or order in dilemma and without coming to a decision, his mind had run all the way to Marinette.

He chuckled a little at the thought of her this morning. She’d been so panicked. He thought of her wild black hair and the shoes in her hands. It seemed so out of place in such a tranquil little coffee shop. But it had been a welcome surprise. Adrien had always enjoyed a touch of spontaneity.

Adrien was interrupted from his thoughts when Plagg hopped onto the couch and settled himself on Adrien’s chest.

“Hey Plagg,” Adrien said, smiling softly as he scratched his cat’s midnight black ears. Plagg merely responded with soft purring.

“Food, huh?” Plagg looked at Adrien with wide eyes, as though prompting Adrien to elaborate.

“Yeah I was thinking take out too. Maybe I’ll have them bring you a little side of cheese.”

“Meow.” Adrien laughed.

“Yeah I know buddy, I know.”

…

When Marinette got home she slumped on the couch and curled up.

“Tikki. Why did you let me invite Alya over with wine last night?” Tikki ignored Marinette and continued playing with a stuffed macaroon that Sabine had bought her for Christmas.

Marinette thought about her day with a scowl. It started rocky and ended worse. She ran late to work, totally embarrassed herself in front of hot guy from Dunn’s, still didn’t figure out his name, had several unpleasant interactions with her boss, most notably about the upcoming fashion show. God Marinette hated planning. The fashion industry would be the death of her, and Marinette was sure of it.

“So, Audrey, I was thinking. I have this friend named Juleka and she’s a model and she would be a perfect replacement for me in the show. She’s beautiful. I’d be happy to send you her portfolio.” Audrey had sighed and rolled her eyes at Marinette.

“Marinette, I’m going to be very blunt with you. I don’t want anyone else. I’m trying to help you. You’re an amazing designer and you’re very beautiful and I think it’s an excellent way for you to be recognized by some of the other big brands that are going to be at the show. So stop trying to get out of it, you’re going to model the red piece and you’re going to like it. Understood?”

Marinette was conflicted. On the one hand, Audrey had given her two compliments in one sentence (which was a miracle all on its own) and on the other hand she was forcing Marinette to wear the red-

“THE RED PIECE?”

“Yes, it’s a flattering color. You look damn good in red and don’t act like you don’t know it.”

Marinette could feel her face turning a deeper shade of red than the red piece itself. The more she thought about it, the more embarrassed she got. She would be in front of dozens of elite fashion industry workers in nothing but a couple dozen pieces of lacy strings she’d sewn together. She’d be in front of Hot Guy…. In nothing but lacy strings.

Marinette was hungover and she was already feeling the need for another wine night.

Marinette pulled her phone from her pocket and glanced at it reluctantly. She found herself pulling up the Hot Guy’s contact info.

Coffee Buddy

Suddenly Marinette pulled a very uncharacteristically bold move

Hey, this is Marinette. Thank you for the hair tie. Sorry I didn’t get much of a chance to talk.

Well, maybe not that bold.

…

Adrien slurped on his Ramen when he heard his phone buzz. He picked it up automatically and squinted at the unknown number.

Once he read the message, he smiled.

Hey Marinette 😊 Its no problem. You seemed a little preoccupied.

…

Marinette was surprised at how quickly the Hot Guy responded. She almost convinced herself for a moment that maybe he was as lame as she was and had no one else to talk to.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Yeah, sorry. Work. I was running late and Audrey isn’t really the forgiving type

Marinette felt her stomach grumble.  It was definitely time for food.

Coffee Buddy

I’m sure you’re super busy. Are you excited about your show? Marinette scoffed.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Well, technically it’s Gabriel’s show and honestly… I’m really nervous

Marinette could feel the little tingle in her gut when her phone pinged. It had been a very long time since she’d felt like that. At least since college.

Coffee Buddy

Don’t be. I bet it’s gonna be great. Besides, I’ll be there to pump you up. I’ve heard I’m an excellent hype man.

Marinette groaned.

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” she grumbled. She typed out another message before routing around in her freezer.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Well that’s sweet of you. It’s going to be a very long night for me.

Coffee Buddy

Maybe we can sit together.

Marinette snorted as she pulled out frozen pizza.

Oh I doubt it, Audrey has me doing…

Marinette thought about it for a long while before typing out the rest of the message to send.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Oh I doubt it, Audrey has me doing a lot of behind the scene stuff during the show.

Maybe hot guy would find out eventually what she meant but Marinette wasn’t ready for that conversation.

Hey dude you’re gonna see me in fancy underpants with a billion other people. Sexy right? Marinette rolled her eyes. No way. She was not having that conversation.

Coffee Buddy

That’s a shame. Are you going to the after party?

That had been another topic of discussion that had come up at work. The After Party. Audrey was insistent that Marinette attend. Marinette on the other hand, had other ideas. Like going home to wallow in embarrassment.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Um… TBD. I haven’t decided.

Audrey was likely not going to let Marinette win that battle either but Marinette could dream.

Coffee Buddy

Well they’re super fun. I’ve been to nearly every Gabriel show and the after party is the best part. It can get a little wild. But I promise, if you stick with me, I’ll show you a great time.

Marinette had always been told that when it came to flirting she was absolutely, hopelessly clueless. Alya had never seen a woman so unaware of the advances of prospective lovers. It was possibly Marinette’s greatest weakness.

Now with that being said, once Alya pointed it out, Marinette had tried to pay better attention. But really, it wasn’t so much paying attention as much as overanalyzing friendly behavior until she convinced herself that it was vain to assume anyone would want to flirt with her. In short, Marinette had not gotten any better.

…

Adrien wasn’t quite sure why, but Nino showed up at Adrien’s apartment shortly after 9. Adrien didn’t complain. He enjoyed the company. Nino couldn’t say the same. At least, not that night.

“Are you even listening? Who are you texting?” Adrien just smiled softly at Nino.

“Have you ever heard of Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” If Nino had been taking a sip of his beer the moment Adrien said that, he probably would’ve spit it out.

“Uh, yeah dude. I went to high school with her. I had a huge crush on her all sophomore year. She’s a fashion designer now right?”

“Wow, that’s so cool. I met her at a coffee shop the other day and she’s really nice. I’ve been texting her for about 20 minutes now.”

“So… she’s single now huh?” Adrien cocked his head in confusion.

“Um, I don’t know. Was she single when you knew her in high school?” Nino laughed.

"I'll take that as a no. I guess she was dating a boy?"

“First of all, he was not a boy. That dude was all man. Luka Couffaine. He was in a super sick metal band that supposedly did really well in America. Second of all, how are you talking to a girl and you don’t even know if she’s single?” Adrien gave Nino a contemptuous look.

“We’re not talking-talking. She’s just a friend. We only just met yesterday.” Nino snatched the phone out of Adrien’s hand.

“Gimme that,” Nino said. He began scrolling through Adrien’s texts.

“Hey!” Adrien protested. Nino rolled his eyes as he tossed the phone back to Adrien.

“You are so full of shit dude. ‘I’ll show you a great time?’ That’s literally a tacky pickup line guys use at the bar.”

“What? That’s not even a pick up line. I don’t think you even know what a pick up line is,” Adrien grumbled. Nino snorted.

“Dude, do you know what a pick up line is? I’ve known you for what, two years now? And never once have I ever seen you go after anyone. I thought you were asexual or something.” Adrien looked at Nino with another look of contempt.

“I’m not asexual. I just got my own stuff going on you know. I’m trying to get my shit together so I don’t wreck someone else’s.” Nino rolled his eyes.

“Whatever you say dude. Only thing I’ll tell you then is that Marinette Dupain-Cheng is probably one of the most kickass girls you’ll ever met so if you do decide you like her, you better respect the shit out of her, got it?”

“Sure thing dude.”

Next Chapter

#my fic #miraculous ladybug #mlb fanfic #mlb #adrienette #adrinette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #nino lahiffe #coffee shop au #fanfic

[softboywriting]

I Love Everything About You | Shawn Mendes | Personal Assistant AU

A/N Sequel to Falling In Love Is Easily The Hardest Thing 

Summary: You and Shawn have been together for six months now. He knows you struggle with insecurity and he is there for you every step of the way.

Word Count: 1.7k

| Masterlist |

Insecurity. It's a bitch. It consumes you, invades your thoughts, poisons your brain and brings the world crashing down around you. It wraps around you, gripping your stomach and making you sick. But it's not until it meets jealousy that it becomes a real monster. Devouring you, making you sob and fight with everything and everyone around you for signs of validation. Signs that your good enough, that you're worthy of being loved, that you don't have to worry. Insecurity and jealousy are nasty beasts that pull you into the dark but Shawn is eternal sunshine and he washes them away, even if it takes a little time.

It's happening, again, and you hate it. The familiar bile rising in your throat, stomach clenching, the weight of insecurity perched upon your back like the demon it is. It whispers lies, lies that you believe every time.

“She's prettier than you.” “He going to leave you for her.” “No one loves their assistant.” “He's lying, he's lonely and that's all.”

You bite back tears as they sting your eyes. No. Not right now, not today. You bring your arms around yourself, holding tight, fingers digging into your soft sides and that makes your grip harder. You were too soft bodied, too flawed for someone like Shawn.

“This way,” an assistant named Bruce says as he leads Shawn towards his dressing room. You follow behind silently, black bag thumping against your butt as you walk. Every little thing reminds you of your imperfections. The bag hits your butt, it's too big. You grip your sides, they're too soft. You pass a model as she goes towards the dressing room for the show and her hair is perfectly feathered, billowing in the wind. Yours is in a braid down the back, probably crooked and you know you need to trim your ends. Everything sucks. You want to go back to the hotel.

“Someone will be in shortly,” Bruce says and closes the door on you and Shawn. Shawn turns around to see you standing there, visibly plagued by the demon on your back, eyes red and tired from listening to it's lies again. He knows how you struggle, and more so now that you're a couple.

“Honey,” he says softly, dropping his guitar case on the couch before wrapping his arms around you. His soft voice is all it takes to break the barrier you’ve been holding up. Tears spill over, wetting your cheeks and his tee. “Talk to me about it, don't hold back,” he whispers into your hair, leading you to sit on the couch with him.

“I’m not as good as these girls here. Why would you want me when there are dozens of models walking around in panties, eyes on you like hungry lionesses. What am I compared to them? Why wouldn't you want someone perfect?” You take in a shaky breath and tremble in his arms.

“I’m not interested in these women just because they're in panties. They're just people doing their jobs, just like I'm going to do my job and sing for their show.” Shawn tucks your hair behind your ear and you lean into his touch. “I'll be looking for you like I always do because you're my home, my safety, my girl. If anything I'll be thinking about you in those panties because I love your soft hips and your legs and...” He groans, pulling you closer. “Honey, those girls have nothing I want. You don't compare to them because they are nothing like you. No one is like you. No one can turn me on or bring me to my knees like you. No one can make my stomach flip and my heart ache like you do. Let them look at me, let them be hungry for me. They can't have me because I'm already taken.”

“You like my legs?” You sniff, looking up at him. You hate how pitiful you must look.

Shawn steps back and lowers himself to his knees in front of you. Your raise your eyebrows and he smiles softly. He runs his hands over the backs of your calves in your faded black jeans, traveling up to your thighs, he leans in and kisses your upper thighs and up to your hips. His hands slide over your butt and stop, grip, and slide around so he is holding your hips. He kisses his way up to meet his hands and smiles big. “I don't like your legs, I love them. I love how soft and smooth they are when you're in your underwear. I love how warm and comfy they are when I lay my head on them. I love gripping them when we're in bed and you're on your hands and knees and I'm e-”

“Shawn!” You hiss, chastising him, and he looks at you with a smug smile. He was never one to talk openly about what you did in the bedroom together. It brought a surge of excitement crashing over you and acted as a welcome distraction from your thoughts.

Shawn pushes himself up, placing kisses up your stomach and chest as he reaches his full height. “Listen, I love you. I love every piece of you and I wouldn't change anything ever. It's been six months we've been together and over two years since we've known each other. I think we both know what we've signed up for.”

“You're right,” you wrap your arms around him and he pulls you in close for another hug, hand on your back, rubbing slowly. “Maybe one day I'll be content with myself.”

“And I'll be here until you are and then after. I promise.” He drops a kiss on your head and turns to look at the door when someone knocks. It's the stylist for the show and you pull away to sit on the couch and go over his schedule for the next week until it was time for him to go on stage.

_____________

Watching Shawn interact with the models on stage should be easier since you had your talk in the dressing room but it isn't. Not at first. You're standing just behind the curtain where the ladies walk out and you can see them strut past Shawn and blow kisses and smile at him. He doesn't reciprocate and just smiles as he performs. You don't realize you're scowling until Winnie, a model and friend of Shawn's, says something to you as she waits to go on stage.

“Your face is gonna freeze like that,” she chuckles and you turn to see her. She's in a pink and yellow floral outfit with a cut out around her stomach. It's gorgeous. She's gorgeous. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just thinking.”

Winnie rolls her eyes. “I know jealousy when I see it. Does Shawn know you're worried about this?”

“Yeah. We talked about it.”

“Then why are you worried? If you are that open with Shawn, he is definitely in love with you. You have him wrapped around your finger.”

“Winnie you're on,” a voice beside you says and Winnie puts her arm around you in a quick hug.

“He's going home with you tonight, don't forget that.”

You watch as she walks the catwalk towards Shawn. She is flawless, steps perfect and controlled. Everything about her screams goddess. She passes Shawn, smiling and says something, looking back toward you. Shawn turns and looks at the entry to the catwalk and winks. He knows you can see him even if he can't quite see you. It makes your heart race and you flush. It was amazing how easily he could make you temporarily forget your flaws and feel like the only girl in a room.

___________

Shawn jogs off stage, handing his guitar to someone as he walks over and picks you up, spinning you around from where you're talking to another model named Haley who you'd met before at a few events. “Did I kill it?” Shawn asks, face pressed into your hair.

“Yes of course you did.” You wave goodbye to Haley who is being pulled away by another model for pictures. “It was a great set. I think everyone had a good time.”

“Did you see me wink at you?”

“Yes, how could I have missed it? You know you can't wink. I can't wait to see photos of that all over social media.” You giggle and he rolls his eyes.

“Anyway I heard that there are grab bags for everyone at the after party. The ladies get lingerie and other gifts in their bags.” Shawn raises his eyebrows suggestively. “I'd kill to see you in them.”

“Yeah? What color?”

“Red? Pink... black with lace,” Shawn says spacing off probably thinking about you in any of sets that were shown while you head to the dressing room to gather your things. “I'm gonna be honest honey I'm ready to go back to the hotel and skip the after party. I just want to be with you.”

You lay your hand on his chest and shake your head as the door closes behind you. “No, I want free lingerie. We're going.”

“Fine but under one condition,” he walks you back the couch and holds your hips, thumbs rubbing against your skin softly under your shirt. “I want my own personal show at the hotel.”

“No touching? Just looking?”

“Oh no there will be plenty of touching. I'm thinking maybe even a different position for each outfit and maybe ending up together in that huge tub in my suite.”

“Alright deal but you have to be extra talkative and tell me how good I look in them.”

Shawn nods. “I'll never shut up.” You laugh and he leans down to kiss you, hand in your hair and one on your side. “I love you,” he smiles into the kiss and you giggle, wrapping your arms around him.

“I love you too.”

#shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes fic #Shawn Mendes Imagine

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 11 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: AHHH I CAN’T STOP WRITINGGGGG okay, so, the Tiffany moon necklace is real, you can find it on their website here (now I want it for myself, but it’s almost $3000 sob). I debated over whether or not Duncan and Melody should have had an awkward rendezvous in the past and ultimately decided that if I were working in close proximity with Duncan Shepherd as a 21-year-old intern I too would have tried to put my hand drunkenly on his crotch at some point, so my point of view towards her is one of empathy and solidarity and honestly it just made sense to my story (lolol). Bill Shepherd is going to show up at some point, but the impression I got from the show is that he and Duncan only interact when they absolutely have to as they don’t get along; Duncan gravitates to his mother and she acts as a mediator, so Bill will have a very minor role in this story. Not sure if Beau Willimon ever came up with a middle name for Duncan, but I couldn’t find one and made one up (Malcolm). At this point I’m sort of trying to follow the timeline of the show in a VERY loose sense (and I guess this is a spoiler, but I am going to bring in the fact that Duncan finds out Annette is not his real mother into my fic soon, mostly so Kenzie can comfort him and stroke his hair and give him soft, sweet, sympathetic kisses cuz I am a sucker for that sweet comforting shit); the upcoming show Duncan, Melody and Seth go over in this chapter is meant to be the one where Melody talks about Claire Underwood’s “public breakdown” in episode 5; I’m not going to include Duncan getting arrested in this fic though, because it’s my fic and I can do whatever I want and I hated the fact that they chose to end Duncan’s character that way. Had to add that line from O Fortuna...because the Duncan/Michael parallels will never end. “She walks in beauty like the night...” is Lord Byron, a poem I was obsessed with when I was younger and have always wanted to put in a story. Kenzie making chicken and dumplings is a reference to the fact that Billie Lourd is fucking obsessed with chicken. Most people know Hades was the God of the Underworld; few people know he was also the god of gold and riches, which is very Duncan. It was important for me to imply Duncan had extensive cooking wares in his penthouse; that he cooks for himself. Dudes who can’t cook are a turn-off. Kenzie cooked for him because it made her happy to do it; it’s a way she’s showing him how much she loves him, not something she felt like she had to do, and I plan on them cooking together in future chapters. That moment Duncan leans against the wall across from Kenzie as they look out the window is my homage to the Cody lean. The prayer to Nike is a real one. Full-disclosure, the passing-out after really great sex is something that happens to me pretty often; I go into post-coital daze pretty hard, so Kenzie doing that is literally based on my own experiences, haha! Duncan will finally meet Madeline in the next part, but we’ll be seeing it all through Kenzie’s eyes.

Duncan had left the interview with Gretchen Friedrichs with his mind buzzing; he stepped out of the elevator with a vague pressure humming between his temples, rubbing his thumb into the palm of his other hand, trying to calm the simmering anger that was still hovering over him. He wondered, with some alarm, when the gossip website was planning on publishing Kenzie’s name and occupation. He wrestled with the idea of telling her; no, he thought, I have to do everything I can to ease her into this world carefully. God, I know she’s afraid and that kills me; I have to do everything I can to soothe her fear, not exacerbate it. One thing at a time.

He pulled his phone out, opening the Uber app and ordering a Black car; then, he opened his texts and sent one out to Kenzie; telling her about the Gala, about his mother’s stylist, about the theme (the theme is you, angel).

Kenzie: That’s beautiful, baby. I can’t believe you did that.

Since you’re the only thing I can think about, it seemed natural. And he knew it was true. She was filling this thoughts and his heart and his senses; nothing else seemed to matter, not the show or the company or the app or his mother, not Uncle Bill (who would I will likely hear from soon, he thought, hand coming up to his jaw, and he won’t like this at all). The emptiness and shallowness of the work his mother had enveloped him in since he was barely out of high school suddenly overwhelmed him; beside the luminous, boundless, sublime emotion of Mackenzie, her glittering, effulgent reality, the rest of the world had lost its brightness; it was black and white, and she was made of colors he had never seen and couldn’t begin to describe.

He looked back down at his phone. Kenzie had replied.

Kenzie: I think those women from the coffee shop posted something on Instagram already. My coworker said something to me as soon as I got into the office.

Fuck, he thought, rapidly typing. She’s going to need a bodyguard. I don’t want to scare her, but that’s going to have to happen very soon. He sent her Samuel’s contact; he’d given Samuel hers earlier that day after they’d dropped her off at One Franklin Square. “Please help me keep her safe,” he’d asked Samuel, his eyes meeting the warm brown gaze of his chauffeur in the mirror; as they always did.

“You have my word, Mr. Shepherd.”

Kenzie: Okay, baby. I feel overwhelmed.

Duncan’s heart resounded painfully in his chest; oh god, baby, he thought. I want to hold you so much right now. I want to shield you from all of this. He thought of the tender, aching way she’d brought her little hand down to his cock that morning, her little moans as she stirred awake under his kisses. He longed to soothe her in his arms; the anticipation of waiting for tonight felt like a thousand tiny, sharp knives were pressing into his skin, jarring and disconcerting. He wanted to be alone with her; he wanted the world to melt away, turn its eyes from them. I’m here. Anything you need or want from me, tell me right away. This will get easier in time, baby. I promise. I’m already dreaming about how hard I’m gonna make you come tonight. At home.

Kenzie: I’m dreaming about you too, baby. She’d left a lipstick-stain emoji at the end; he shivered, looking down at it, his mind drifting back to her mouth around his length that morning, the kisses she’d pressed against him outside One Franklin Square, in view of two dozen people, and how he’d gripped her against him, unable to care; lost in her, immediately aching as she ran away from him.

He walked out onto the sidewalk in front of the Ritz-Carlton (“Have a pleasant day, Mr. Shepherd,” the doorman said cordially; holding it open for him, and Duncan gave him a nod, trying to maintain his mask of calm) and stepped into the car waiting for him in front of the hotel. He had a meeting with Melody and Seth that would take a few hours; he winced at the withering look he knew was coming from Melody in particular. Oh well. It all had to come out; it was coming out, and he’d just have to weather the anger and annoyance that was coming his way, weather the disapproval and disbelief. Kenzie deserved that from it; she deserved everything. His patience, his courage, his resolve, and his love.

He opened the Instagram app; he glanced at his mentions, wincing. There was one of the photos the woman had snapped; I look fucking pissed, he thought. Kenzie looks like an angel. He loved the way she was tucked under his arm in the photo; loved the fall of her hair against his leather jacket, her little hand around her necklace. She fits there as though that’s where she was always meant to be. The piece of me once cut away, and now reunited. And me; the piece of her, now wrapped around her again, as if some fateful prophecy has finally been fulfilled. I'm not going to let anything tear us apart now.

Duncan saw her handle in his mentions; @kenzielouwho. He smiled, gazing down at his phone screen. I love that. Her sweetness. He hit the follow button, scrolled through her pictures, goggling at them, his face alight. He double-tapped again and again; here she was, her lovely taste and her coordinated little outfits and plants and the moons and stars of her world, her hair falling like a cascade of gold, laughing at the camera, smiling next to Claire, grinning over plates of food, snapshots of sunsets and evening lights and cute animals she met, books she was reading, songs she was listening to. He felt overcome again; overcome with the affection he felt for her, overcome with how much her happiness affected him, how much he wanted to bring her the joy he saw in her face in the photos, how much he wanted to be the source of her comfort and her love. He couldn’t help it; I’d do anything for this woman. I’d do anything. He found the photo of her looking out from the table at the coffee shop, a little moon at her throat, her sweater falling off her shoulder; he left the pierced hearts at the bottom with a feeling of wild abandon. You’ve pierced not just my heart, but my soul, and your happiness is my happiness, your comfort my comfort, your joy my greatest joy. He wished she was here so he could press the words against her skin with his lips; press into her and breathe deep, breathe her into him. To be away from her was such sweet torture. Looking through her pictures made him feel like there were flowers blooming and closing in quick succession in the center of his chest. He felt completely overwhelmed by them; again, he felt overwhelmed by her realness, her reality; the fact that she existed was astonishing again and again. I never want to wake up from this dream.

He found the video that had been taken of them (oh god, that went up fast) and blushed at the ardency with which he clutched her in them. And I thought the other picture was obvious, he thought sheepishly. But in that moment it had felt like no one else was there. He’d forgotten the world entirely, lost in her eyes and the waist of her skirt on her hips and her bare arms and the way she’d looked up into his eyes, the way she fit against him. There hadn’t been anyone else there, he thought. Not really. It was only us. It was only Kenzie.

-----

Duncan stepped into Shepherd Hall towards the upstairs offices and the Beltway studio where he was supposed to meet Melody and Seth, glancing down as his phone echoed out its soft text chime; Mom.

Duncan Malcolm Shepherd. You’ve exacerbated this situation considerably. What the fuck were you thinking? Clearly you are infatuated and it’s making you behave like a drunk frat boy. I understand that public encounters are somewhat inevitable, but kissing this girl in front of a crowd is absolutely unacceptable. Your uncle is furious. I can only control him if you control yourself. Get yourself under fucking control, Duncan. Focus on our objectives.

Shit, he thought. Shit, meet fan. Fuck Uncle Bill. He’s dying and he’s bitter about it and he wants to make someone else suffer before he kicks it. And I’m not going to play into it. He didn’t reply. You know we’re together, Mom, he thought. I told you I love her. What else do you want from me? I’m not a fucking child. I’ll do what you want when it comes to the company, but not when it comes to her.

He took the back staircase up a floor to where the offices were; the studio was set up at the end of the hall. As he came through the doorway, he was met with the very annoyed gaze of Melody Cruz; his eyes glanced over to where Seth sat beside her, nervously focusing on the memo pad in front of him, eyes skirting between the two of them, then back down.

“Oh, hello, Duncan,” Melody simpered, plastering a painful-looking smile on her face. Murder, her eyes shot out at him. Stone cold murder. “Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence, I know how busy you are lately.”

“Melody. Seth.” Duncan ignored her tone, pulling the chair at the head of the rectangular table in the far corner of the studio out, sitting in it neatly, putting his phone face-down on the table in front of him, crossing one leg over the other, using all his will to keep his expression neutral; cool, calm, collected, impenetrable Duncan Shepherd. Everyone seemed hellbent on getting a rise out of him this morning; of all the people in his life he considered close, it seemed only Samuel was happy for his good fortune. Fine. Perhaps it wasn’t unreasonable to reevaluate the roles of others in his life in the first place. “Let’s go over everything for the taping tomorrow.”

“I guess you’re just going to pretend like you haven’t been making a total mockery lately of all the work we’ve done, then?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what the fuck you mean, Melody.”

Seth’s eyes fluttered between them again, licking his lips, clicking a pen nervously in one hand. “Um, everything’s fine, Melody, I’m...I’m sure there won’t be any effect on the show.”

“Are you fucking dense, Seth? Of course it will fucking affect the fucking show! Madeline Stone’s fuck-ing daugh-ter!” She slapped her hand against the edge of the table, enunciating sharply. “You think our audience is primarily comprised of intersectional feminists and people who buy cage-free eggs?”

“Melody, you’re out of line.” Duncan felt his temper rising; a temper that hadn’t really settled since Gretchen Friedrichs tried to blackmail him half an hour ago.

Melody went quiet, her eyes burning, her expression infuriated.

“I understand the reasons my relationship may be a shock to you--”

“You better fucking believe it’s a fucking shock. I’ve never known you to be one to even call back for a second date, let alone whatever it going on with you right now. What, you fucking love her?”

Duncan gazed at her; her dark eyes met his icy blue stare evenly. He felt his tendency towards manipulation and coercion begin to try to float to the surface of his composure; for a moment, he considered firing her. It’s what last week’s Duncan would have done, he thought, and strangely, he felt a nervous edge creep into his composure; he was rubbing a hand along his bottom lip before realized he was doing it, looking away from her. This Duncan had been unutterably shaken by a little gold angel in a black dress. This Duncan was not the same man who had last sat in this studio, last plotted out the trajectory of how best to unseat the sitting President of the United States, last given Melody sheets of propaganda to read on air. I’m not totally sure who this Duncan is, he thought; Melody still stared, her expression seeping into confusion at his metamorphosing reaction. I just know I don’t want the same things I wanted a few days ago. I want her. And I don’t care what anyone thinks of it. I care what she thinks first and how she feels first and I don’t care who her mother is and I don’t care how many times people see us kiss on the street and I don’t want to be away from her, not for all the money in the world, not for all the power, not for the world itself or a hundred worlds. And nothing any of you say is going to make me leave her.

“Yes. Melody. I love her.”

Melody scoffed, leaning her head back into the headrest of her swivel chair, crossing her arms under her chest, turning away from him. Once, long ago, when Melody had been an intern for Shepherd Unlimited, they’d slept together. It was a hasty, short-lived event; neither of them had even really undressed for it, and Duncan hadn’t been able to come; they’d both been drunk and she had pressed a hand suggestively against his crotch and the scotch in his blood had convinced him that it was a good idea and it wouldn’t matter the next day, the way the scotch in his blood had decided halfway through that his cock was ready to go to sleep. Neither of them had ever really mentioned it again; but Duncan knew that Melody had never really let it go. Not in words; it was always in looks. But he wasn’t sure if her anger really had all that much to do with who Kenzie’s mother was as it had to do with the fact that this girl, whoever she was, was the girl Duncan Shepherd had decided was the one for him, kissing her openly in the street, standing in line with her in coffee shops with his arm around her, holding her hand on the way to private rooms in posh French bistros, cameras be damned.

“I guess this is why you fucked up your interview so many times the other day,” she said icily. “Thinking about her perfect little pink pussy.”

“Melody.”

“Seth, give him the fucking outline.”

“Melody. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about that time.”

Melody’s eyes fell on him, shining; shocked.

“I’m truly sorry about that night. I appreciate you and the work you do immensely; I see the long hours you put into the show and Gardner Analytics. I haven’t told you that enough. I know that happened a long time ago, but it was stupid, and we should have talked about it after it happened, and we didn’t. I should have said something to you, apologized, and I didn’t. This apology is far too late, and my timing is terrible. But I am sorry.”

Seth was carefully drawing circles on his memo pad; he pretended to look at his phone, as if engrossed in whatever he saw there, but Duncan could see how rigid his body was.

Melody continued to stare at him, not speaking. He uncrossed his legs and sat up; sat with his arms resting on his knees. He cleared his throat a little.

“I know it’s not convenient. But the truth is, I love Mackenzie Stone. It wasn’t expected; it wasn’t planned. It happened. Annette knows, and she knew before the video and the photo from today. I understand your hesitation and your concern for the future of Gardner Analytics and the show. But the reality is, my relationship will continue regardless of whether or not you approve of it; whether or not anyone approves of it who isn’t Mackenzie or me. But I am sorry, Melody. I respect you deeply as a friend and as a coworker. And I’m sorry my apology took so long.”

Melody bit her bottom lip, and he could see her arms clenching against her torso where she had them crossed. Then, she looked down at the folder in front of her, opened it, and passed him the sheet of paper on top.

“Outline for Episode 153.”

Duncan nodded, reaching for the paper, pulling it toward him, as Melody blew out a long breath, and began her overview.

--------

It was after 6 by the time Duncan left Shepherd Hall; he looked down at his phone (he hadn’t for hours as they went over the episode--as this one was supposed to be about President Underwood’s thus far very public breakdown, it had to be flawless) as Seth and Melody walked away from him. Melody had looked over her shoulder, giving him a strange look that he couldn’t decipher, then waved shortly, turning away--it gave him the feeling that something minute and ever-present had been vaguely fixed between them, though. Kenzie and Samuel had texted him; Samuel’s was at the top, more recent, so he saw it first: Mr. Shepherd, Miss Mackenzie is safely at home. If you need my services, I am now available to you.

Yes, please, Samuel. I’m at Shepherd Hall. I need to go to Tiffany’s.

Samuel responded right away. Very good, Mr. Shepherd. I will be there in ten minutes.

He scrolled down to the text from baby, angel, beloved

Kenzie: There were a bunch of reporters waiting outside the building when I tried to leave work. My boss helped me through the back door, but two of them still found me. Thankfully Samuel was there, but I think they got me on camera. I don’t know who they were with. I’m okay. Samuel was wonderful. I’ll be so relieved to see you, baby.

Oh, no, he thought, his heart sinking. Someone beat buzzpopfeed to their info. He knew how clever people could be online; they found the tiniest clues and used them to sleuth vast swaths of information (once, a fan on Instagram had zoomed in on every toiletry behind him in a selfie he’d drunkenly taken in his bathroom and made a list of “Duncan Shepherd’s Go-To Grooming Must Haves”, which was published by a gossip site soon after). Seeing Kenzie run into One Franklin Square on camera was a dead giveaway, and he raked a hand through the curls at the side of his face in frustration. That was so fucking stupid of me. I should never have gotten out of the car after her. I should have controlled myself. And now people are trying to molest her at work. That’s my fucking fault. He wondered if it was buzzpopfeed that had found Kenzie on the opposite side of her building; they were notorious for breaking into private residences and crossing police lines, inventing elaborate scenarios to get onto upper hotel floors where they knew celebrities were staying, and wearing hidden cameras. That’s just the sort of shit they’d do, he thought. And if they got her on camera I don’t doubt it’ll be on their site soon.

He thought about going to the site to check, but stopped himself. I’m sure I’ll get another angry text soon enough from Mom if there’s something new, he told himself. And what, she’ll be angry at Kenzie for trying to leave work. As if there was an alternative.

But Mom: she’s easy to love. She’s so lovely. When you meet her, how could you not see it? Mom, I love her. You’ll see why; and then, you can’t tell me what I’m doing is wrong. Then you won’t be able to say I’m making a mistake.

The thought was like one he would have had when he was a child; lost in the orb of his mother, always admiring her, always certain with an unshakable conviction that she was right. Always sure that she knew what was best. The innocence of the thought struck him; even if he knew now that his mother was far from perfect, and that her intentions were often underhanded, he couldn’t shake the hope that she would warm to Kenzie in time. The alternative was unthinkable.

Samuel pulled up, Ella drifting quietly from the interior: your daddy’s rich, and your mamma’s good-lookin’...so hush little baby...baby, don’t you cry...Duncan pulled the door open, letting the warm evening air drift over him and push his hair back, a strange wave of nostalgia washing over him; a mixture of sadness and hopeful longing. If such a wonderful, fateful thing could happen to him; meeting her at all, finding her at all, in a world of so many people walking past each other every day without a second glance, surely the miracle of his mother accepting and loving her could, too, come to pass. O Fortune, like the Moon of ever-changing fate, ever waxing, ever waning...where had he heard that before? The line echoed in his mind as Samuel pulled away from the curb, and they were both silent, a quiet understanding passing between them; Duncan nodded to Samuel through the mirror; thank you. Thank you for taking care of my Kenzie today. Samuel’s eyes seemed to glow in the dim light; seemed to him like twin moons in a black sky.

I’m so glad you’re okay, baby, he texted Kenzie. I’ll be home soon. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms.

------

An hour later, Duncan stepped out of the BMW in front of his high-rise with a very distinct blue box tucked carefully under his arm; his eyes glided up to the 30th floor, where he knew he could sometimes see into the long window of his penthouse if the light was right in the evening. He could see the reading lamps near the window were turned low; could see the reflection of light coming from where the kitchen and dining room were to the north end of building, but he couldn’t see Kenzie; she wasn’t near the window, it seemed. An almost-vanished sliver of moon hung over it, like the rind of a melon devoured. He walked quickly into the building, anxious to be near her; the doorman, Jerry, nodded to him with familiarity. “Mr. Shepherd, fine night.”

“It really is, Jerry, hey,” Duncan moved past him, giving Anchaly a nod. Anchaly gave him a knowing smile; his copy of Tropic of Cancer catching Duncan’s eye for a moment. “Enchanting,” Anchaly said as he walked past, eyeing the blue box under his arm. “She walks in beauty, like the night / of cloudless climes and starry skies--” Duncan grinned at him, heading to the elevators, feeling flushed. “And all that’s best of dark and bright / meet in her aspect and her eyes,” he finished, as the doors slid open.

“Just so,” Anchaly agreed, and turned back to his book.

Duncan looked at himself in the long mirror as it climbed, unaware that Kenzie had done the same only a few short hours before; his hand pressed along the smooth line of his leather jacket, only just now remembering he’d worn the same clothes for two days. He sniffed his armpit carefully; not too bad, considering. He ran a nervous hand through his hair; still nervous, he wondered. Still trembling to behold her grace. I hope that feeling never fades. I don’t know how it could. He thought of how she’d looked clutched against him in this mirror, in that haze of their first night together; how it had made his cock throb, his nerves set on fire, her little body pressed to him, his hands in her hair. He felt his cock growing hard now, pressing with urgency into the lining of his tailored slacks (her little tongue in my mouth, her little nipples in my fingers, my hand between her legs, her laugh, her smile, the light falling on her); he ran his fingers along the edge of the blue box, swallowing carefully, pressing a thumb along his jaw. The doors slid open, achingly, seemingly impossibly slow. He walked to his own door, heart thumping wildly, as though it belonged to her now; it’s because I belong to her now, he thought. And I’m happy to obey her every whim.

He used the second keycard he carried in his wallet to unlock the door; it was usually tucked into the inner lining of his wallet, but he’d moved it to the spot where the old one used to be in his billfold; the one that now belonged to her. As Duncan opened the familiar doorway of his apartment, warm, wonderful smells enveloped him; food smells, lovely and enticing and comforting.

“Kenzie?”

She emerged to his left; from the dining room, a room he never used, a room that would be gathering dust but for the housekeepers’ attentions. Kenzie’s face looked tired; there were small dark circles under her wide hazel eyes, and her cheeks were pale, but her lips were pink (like roses), as if rosy from hot liquid; she was wearing a little slip dress that fell almost to the floor, one of the straps falling down her arm, and its color reminded him of wine grapes firming on twisting vines. Her neck was bare and her hair fell around her shoulders, catching the light of the diamond-drop chandelier.

“Hey, baby,” she said quietly, and her eyes seemed dark again as they stared at each other for a long moment; green and bronze. “Hi.”

He put the blue box down on the stand by the front door, his eyes not moving from her face.

“Baby...” he whispered. He closed the distance between them, his hand coming behind her head and cradling it, the other falling down her cheek and neck to her shoulder and down her arm, feeling insistently, hungrily, with terrible relief. She fell into him with urgency, her hands grasping the lapels of his jacket with tight little fingers, her mouth opening to him with need. They stood this way for a moment that felt like an eon, a lifetime, pressing into each other, lost in the solace of each other; he thought again that he’d be happy to die now, breathing into her. She lifted her mouth away a little and he tried to follow her; “baby, today was the strangest day,” she whispered into him, closing her eyes, face lifted up to him, hands pressing up his arms.

“I’m so sorry I followed you out of the car--” he started, his voice tinged with the remorse he felt, tinged with regret.

“I’m not.” She looked into his eyes, her little body sighing. “I’m glad you did. Now everyone knows you’re mine.”

He smiled; his hands fell through her hair and down the small of her back, loving the smooth feeling of the dress through his fingers, the silky strands of her. He turned his face, kissing the corner of her mouth; he moved his lips so they trailed along her bottom lip, biting a little, sucking gently, and he was thrilled at the moan that seeped out of her, her eyes fluttering.

“I got something for you.” He stepped away from her, gently gripping her hand and pulling her along with him, towards where he’d left the blue box on the stand by the door. He stroked the contours of her knuckles and fingers for a moment as she glanced at the box, her face curious; then, with a small burst of excitement scattering through her eyes. He handed it to her with both hands, stepping close. “Oh, Duncan,” she murmured, looking up into his eyes again, making him shiver with the devotion he felt, frozen in her gaze.

She pulled at the white ribbon around it, the black lettering emerging from underneath it; Tiffany & Co. He took the ribbon gently so she could lift the lid, and as her eyes fell on what was inside, the little laugh of delight that escaped her filled his heart with tenderness that made him want to press his face to her neck. Inside the box was a platinum necklace on a long chain; the charm at the end of it was a crescent moon set with brilliant round diamonds, which immediately threw their glow against her face, under her eyes. “A moon,” she whispered.

“The moon on a string, for you,” he replied, grasping her hand again, pressing his thumb over it. “My beloved.”

“It’s perfect. It’s too much--” Her eyes took on that overwhelmed glimmer; he shook his head, pulling her mouth onto his again, shushing her worry.

“It’s not. It’s not nearly enough. I wish I could pull the real moon down and give it to you.”

She grinned into his lips. “That’s beautiful. But I don’t know what I’d do with the moon all to myself. The world needs her. I love her best where she is.”

“Of course you would say something like that,” he whispered into her, his thumb brushing a gently trail from her cheek to her earlobe, twisting a strand of golden-brown hair through his fingers.

“Like what?”

“Something so lovely, and so kind, and gentle.”

Her eyelids fluttered downwards as she blushed; he could feel her shaking a little under his touch. He gently lifted the necklace from the box, and he reached out with his long fingers, pressing the index of his left hand into the hollow of her throat, trailing it there.

“May I?”

She nodded, her green-tinted eyes staring at him again, her mouth open ever-so-little. She lifted her hair and turned, exposing the whiteness at the back of her throat, the bumps of her spine and the incline of her shoulder blades above the dip of the dress; he resisted the urge to kiss her there, later, and unclasped the hook, lifting it around her head, his fingers brushing against her with longing as he clasped it at the nape of her neck. She turned around again, facing him, a sweet smile playing at the corners of her lips; “how do I look,” she asked, her eyes falling into him.

“Like an angel,” he said, hands against her shoulders, fingers trailing. “Like a goddess.” And she did to him; the soft light on her skin and her hair, dazzling against the little round diamonds in the crescent moon, the shape of her little breasts pressing against the soft velvet of the lilac-colored dress. “You look like Persephone, goddess of spring.”

A strange look came into Kenzie’s eyes; one of a dawning realization, or a familiar deja vu; she brought her little hands to his cheeks, trailing them softly along the stubble on his jaw, onto the bottom of his lip; he pressed his mouth against her fingers, closing his eyes.

“Then that makes you my Hades, God of Wealth, King of the Underworld, Lord of the Dark Places.”

“Spooky.”

She giggled.

“Thank you, baby. I love it so much. I love you...so much.”

“I love you too, Kenzie. I love you.” He opened his eyes again to her; everything I have is yours now, he thought. Everything is for you. All of me.

“Come have dinner.” She smiled mischievously, pulling back from him. She held his hand and pulled him through the doorway into the room he never used; its centerpiece was the long cherrywood dining table that once belonged to Duncan’s great-grandfather, a piece passed down to him by his mother when he moved into his penthouse years ago. Kenzie had found one of the linen tablecloths packed away in the drawers of the darkwood sliding-door china cabinet Duncan never touched; it was carefully tucked around the table, and on it was a lovely spread; she’d moved some of the pillar candles from the coffee table into this room, lighting them in the center, and their warm glow dazzled into his eyes, making them tear.

“I made chicken and dumplings,” he heard Kenzie say softly. “It’s one of my favorites, my mom always made it for me when I was growing up, especially after she’d had a particularly hard day; now, to me, it’s always comfort food.” His eyes roved hungrily over the spread she’d created; his favorite shallow cooking pot full of fluffy dumplings covered in speckled parsley, and steamy, bright chicken stew; another platter had smoky tendrils of broccoli rabe, and a third had an array of colorful root vegetables, yellow beets and dark orange chopped carrots and purple turnips.

“Kenzie, this is wonderful,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Thank you for cooking for me. I’m so happy you did this for me.”

“I wanted to,” she said, shyly, the diamonds around her neck catching the light, her cheeks, pale when his eyes had first fallen on her, now glowing with her emotions and the touch of his fingers. “I wanted to make you something because you’ve been so wonderful...because you’ve made me feel so wonderful…”

“Kenzie, baby,” he couldn’t stop, he pulled her into him again, aching, his body shuddering into her, his lips falling along the side of her face, and she sighed into him, “God, I missed you so much today, I wanted to see you so much…”

“I felt the same way baby, I’m so happy you’re home--”

He pulled her hand up to his face, kissing her open palm with terrible softness, overcome.

“I’m starving,” he said, grinning at her, and she smiled back (my moonlight), kissing him, nodding, saying “Me too, let’s eat, let’s eat.”

-------

Over the dinner Kenzie had created for him, Kenzie told him about everything that had happened to her after she ran into One Franklin Square; “Ben Wilder is basically the Annette Shepherd of the Washington Post,” she said to him, her eyes flashing. “Everyone is terrified of him, and he demanded I get you to give him an interview. It’s impossible to hide any modicum of gossip from him.”

“I’ll give him an interview,” Duncan said between mouthfuls of Kenzie’s savory chicken and dumplings. God, this girl can cook. I can’t wait for us to cook something together, he thought. I can’t wait for us to cook together for so many nights to come. He watched her eyes goes dark with surprise at his words. “...You will?” He watched her fingers fall to the diamond moon hanging at her beautiful throat; Kenzie, baby, I love your fingers there, I love your fingers, my little moon, my Persephone--

“Of course.”

“Duncan, I work for The Washington Post.”

He laughed a little, drinking down a mouthful of the Grand Cru he’d opened for them, bringing the bottle over to him, pouring more into his crystal glass, pouring some into hers carefully. “Kenzie. I know.”

“So...how is that going to be okay with your mother?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll do it.”

Her eyes shone out at a him from where she sat across from him; he was at the head of the beautiful cherrywood table, and she was sitting in the seat to his left, facing the doorway to the kitchen, her little face soft in the candlelight.

“Okay,” she said, and the smile that spread over her cheeks was like the blush of spring flowers in the rain. He reached over to her; her fingers curled through his, and the energy that passed between them was like the rolling crash of thunder over an open plain; wide and intense and open and circling down into the cores of their bodies, through the fingers that touched. They gazed at each other for a moment, hands tightly together. Then, Kenzie grasped her wine glass in her little slender fingers, stood, and, still clasping his hand against hers, said, “I seem to recall a bold claim from this morning.”

He looked up at her; she glowed, and his breath fell away from him.

“A certain Prince of the Underworld, he of vast fortune and troves of gold and black flowers with silver stems, told me he was going to make me come...so...fucking...hard.”

Duncan smiled; smiled with an all-encompassing happiness that pierced into the center of him, one that made him want to scream with its intensity; he let go of her (I don’t want to)  and wiped his mouth on the cloth napkin at his lap, but as he stood, she moved away from him, gazing coyly into his eyes as she did, over her shoulder, cradling the wine glass against her; come and get me, her eyes whispered. His groin shuddered with a coiled sort of agony and he pulled his own wine glass with him, languidly, following her slowly, leaning against the door to watch her move through the kitchen and the wide front room, flipping the light switch so they were bathed in darkness, as she moved towards where the long glass window stretched, its blank face gazing down on the city lights; the silky movement of the dress against her back and her ass, one of the straps falling down again, the incline of her breast almost completely visible to him, the waves of her hair down her back; Duncan imagined flowers tangled in the strands, peonies like the little flowers on the glass of water he’d pulled in her hand, roses like the roses on the balcony and in the bathtub, the candles clustered around them, her body hovering over him in the water, her fingers clutching at his stubble.

She gazed out onto the city, quietly, lost in her own thoughts again, it seemed; he felt like he could almost see the gentle cascade of her thoughts in this moment, the hazy warmth of the wine spreading through her, the pain and confusion of the day fading and spreading down into the city, away from them; he put this moment, looking at her, bathed in a soft glow, into the memories of her he would always cherish, always have locked in his heart. He watched as she sipped the wine, the crystal edge of the glass reflecting the golden helmet of Pallas Athena beside her.

“You know,” she said, as he moved towards her, carefully, “today, after I got here, I looked at your home for a long time. Its energy. Its spirit.”

“What did you see?” He couldn’t remove the longing from his voice; everything I want, everything I need, he thought. It’s you. Only you. He came up against the other side, against the wall of his study; he leaned against it, his arm propped up, trying to look out at the capital city’s glow; but his eyes turned to her, almost involuntary, lost in her.

She dipped her head down for a moment, thoughtful, her eyes to the steep incline of the ground, thirty stories down; the crystal glass glinted in her hand again, throwing stardust against her cheek.

“That you love art and beauty. That you love books. That you love the strength of women; the strength and yes, the beauty, and the beauty of men, too, I think. I think so. And that you have a great and hidden depth in you, Duncan Shepherd, one that perhaps not everyone around you sees; one that you hold secret, pressed against your heart.”

He kept his eyes on her. She turned to him, dazzling, soft, and he noticed her wine glass was almost empty now.

“I think you really are like the God of the Underworld; a prince on a cold throne. And I think you need a Queen made of Light who sees the light in you. And I think I am her.”

She stepped away from him once more; looking over her shoulder again, setting the crystal glass next to Athena, a swirl of red still in the bottom, moving on to the soft, low light of the bedroom. His breath seemed caught in his chest; he put his own glass, a little wine left in it, an offering, next to Nike, whom he stood near; bring me Victory, blessed Nike, whence I toil like the bees, you bring me honey--

As he entered the bedroom (quiet black sheets, the cover thrown back) he saw her pushing the dress from her shoulders, stepping out of it; she was naked underneath, and his nerves thrilled to realize she had been naked underneath it since he came home; thrilled at the secret she’d held that he had not realized, but she left the necklace on, the moon made of diamonds, and Kenzie looked over her shoulder at him, her long lashes languid as she laid down on the bed, sighing into it, bending one of her knees so her thigh fell over her sex, hidden from him just a little, her face turned to where he stood there at the door, leaning against it, staring over her.

Kenzie moved her legs apart, her sweet little sex opening to him, reminding him of that first night, days ago--

He pulled his jacket off quickly, about to pull his shirt off just as quick--but she murmured “slow, baby, I wanna watch you,” and he slowed himself; anything you want, angel, he thought. Whatever you want, now and always, and as he unbuckled his belt, now shirtless, he watched her little fingers go down between her legs and rub at her little clit, her mouth falling open.

“Baby, stop,” he said, firmly.

Her eyes widened at him; her finger paused its circles at her core.

“Put your hands up above your head. Against the headboard.”

Her eyes went darker; that glow, forest-green, haunting. Kenzie lifted her hands up, grasping onto the slats above her. Her mouth was still open, lips parted just a little, her breath coming out in tiny, quiet gasps.

“I’m gonna make you come.”

He watched the shiver fall down her body, starting at her shoulder, through her torso, her hips, her legs, to her toes. She gripped the slats harder, opening her mouth a little more. He pushed his pants and his briefs off his body, staring at her, his cock falling against his fingers for a moment, making him moan, and then he reached down and picked up his belt where he had dropped it; he let it hang carefully down from his hand for a moment, watched her eyes travel over it, a mixture of desire and apprehension in them, then he climbed onto the bed, between her legs; he didn’t touch her, but she wrapped her legs around his thighs, the head of his cock brushing for a second against the open lips of her sex, and they both shuddered. He lifted his arms up and pressed the smooth leather strap against her little wrists; she let out a moaning little cry that made his heart feel as thought it was going to burst out of him, but he concentrated on the task at hand; he wrapped the straps around two of the slats, buckling them together behind it, pulling the strap tight against her, not too tight, but enough to make it so she couldn’t move her wrists out of the belt; he watched her hands flex for a moment, and then he looked down into her wide hazel eyes; she nodded to him, eyes fluttering, and he moved his long hands down her arms, fingers closing over her round breasts and gripping the diamond moon above her breasts for a moment, down further as he moved his body back, hands on her waist and now her hips and now her thighs, pushing then further apart; he saw the little tears glittering in the corners of her eyes, felt the shiver of her body under his hot hands.

“Is it okay, baby?” he whispered, hesitating.

“Yes, baby, yes,” she whimpered, an edge in her voice that made him shake. “Yes, fuck, yes…”

He moved his head down to hover just above her folds, above the lip of her clit; his hair fell over his forehead, brushing her belly, the dip of her bellybutton; she shivered, crying out again; then he pressed his lips into her, his tongue laving out to urge against her core; he looked up as he did, watching her arms resist the constraint of his belt holding her for a moment, tight on her wrists, pressing into her skin, her little mouth stretching in need; “Duncan, fuck, ohhhh--”

“You like being tied up like that, baby?” he whispered, then he pressed his tongue against her again, long and slow and aching, and her hips bucked into him, and she let out a little shuddering cry that made him painfully hard, made his cock jump against the sheet.

“Y-y-es, baby, yes…”

He brought one of his large, long hands up, fingers curling; then he brought it down suddenly, a soft but sharp little slap onto the sensitive slit between her legs, and she cried out again, leather pressing into her little wrists.

“Did you like that?”

“Yes.” The tears glimmered in her eyes again; her cheeks were rosy, and he could see her pussy slowly turning dark pink from his attentions. “Yes. Do it again, baby.”

He lifted his hand again, his palm and fingers flat; this time he brought his hand down again, harder this time, slapping her clit with a rough immediacy.

“Fuuuuck, fuck!” Kenzie moaned. “Please, suck my clit, baby…”

Duncan leaned down, eagerly, his lips closing around the bud of her; he sucked deeply, carefully, his tongue swirling over her, and he felt her hips buck into him again, her moans strangled and needy and unwinding.

“Kenzie, I’m gonna make you come hard,” he whispered into her, his breath making her buck into him again, and again, her mouth a little O, her wrists shaking, “and then I’m gonna make you come again after that.”

“O-okay, baby,” and her voice was shuddering, high, driving him into white feelings of madness.

He worked his tongue against her again, and his fingers came up; he pressed two, his index and middle fingers, into the wet core of her body, curling them, flexing back and forth, his lips sucking into her clit again. She cried out again; “Baby, I am gonna fucking c-cu-um,” and he kept his mouth pressed heavily into her clit as she shuddered under him, his fingers still buried inside her pussy as her wetness fell against them, moisture gathering between the spaces of his digits, sweet-smelling and thick. She continued to shudder for some time; he laid his head gently into her abdomen, his fingers coming out of her, soaked with her, his hands pressing into her jutting hipbones, tracing them and leaving traces of wetness and his lips pressed into her skin, ignoring his own hardness, his own need, for the moment.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking godddd,” Kenzie moaned, and he looked up; tears coursed down her cheeks and her shoulders were shaking. Her hands were still clamped in the confines of his tight leather belt; he leaned up, reaching behind the slats, untying it, tossing it aside, gently grasping her wrists, bringing his lips to where they’d left red marks on her, kissing her tenderly.

“Are you okay, baby,” he whispered.

“Yes,” she whimpered, though tears still coursed from her eyes. “Yes.”

“Good. I’m gonna fuck you again now. And you’re gonna come for me again.”

Her eyes opened wide, wide from their fluttering, hazy half-lids; she gasped a little, and then she nodded, and she whispered “yes, baby, my Prince, fuck me hard now.”

He pulled her up, gripping her under her arms; “come here, baby, come with me,” he whispered, and her little naked body slipped off the bed as he pulled her, and he kissed her with his mouth open with fierce admonition, fingering the diamond moon at her breast in his large elegant hand and she lifted herself up to him and her tongue tangled against his and as he pulled her towards him he saw a glitter of moisture that slipped down her leg from her release. He gripped her hand tightly, pulling her from the bedroom; he led her to the window, his glass window, surveying all of the city, a wall of glass, and he pressed her hands against it tenderly in the darkness, the only light now shining below them, his mouth open under her ear, his body pressed against her back and her thighs, his cock hard between her legs, brushing against her cunt, sensitive and soaking wet, and she moaned again, her eyes looking back at him for a moment, then back at the lights below as his large hand came around her throat and he pressed his length into her, his other hand coming around to her clit, rubbing insistently.

“Isn’t it beautiful,” he whispered into her ear as he fucked her, raw and rough and with wild desire, and her little mouth hovered over the glass, her breath cascading in clouds against it, her fingers curling where they were pressed, fingers splayed, her knees buckling just a little against him, her ass moving back to press into him as his fingers bored into her core and pressed harshly into her neck, her hips moving against him, her feel tip-toed to reach up to his height, her eyes looking out, glancing up at their reflection over her shoulder. “Almost as beautiful as you are, but nothing is, no one is, nobody is as beautiful as you are, Kenzie, my angel--” Duncan could see the outline of them there too, in the reflection, his hair tossed against his forehead, his mouth open in a mixture of lust and concentration, her wide eyes turned up almost into her head as she gasped, and he moved the hand from her neck to twist around her chestnut hair, pulling it tight, bringing her head back with a soft jerk, and she moaned “oh goddd--” and ground against him again, ground down onto him so he was completely buried inside her. His index finger was grinding circles into the side of her clit; he moved it down to where moisture was dripping down her leg, dripping down the length of his cock as he pulled in and out of her, and gathered it on his finger, bringing it back to her clit, soaking wet--

“Baby, I’m--I’m gonna come again, I’m gonna--”

This time, Kenzie’s little body rocked back onto him, her fingers clenching into fists on the glass, her cunt spasming down onto his length with a force that brought stars behind his eyes, and he watched the glitter of the diamonds at her neck reflect in the glass. “Fu-u-uuck my pussy, fuck my little cunt with your big cock,” Kenzie cried out, and he lifted out of her and plunged back, feeling the vague outline of her cervix brushing his head; then, Kenzie screamed; she screamed and her body began to shake, to vibrate against him, the lips of her so far down on his cock that they brushed against his balls, and he felt another cascade of moisture seep out of her, this one more intense than the first, dripping down his testicles in rivulets, and he shuddered a hallucinatory release into her that made him blind for a moment, his cock immediately sensitive and painful with its intensity, his voice crying out “Fuck, fuuuck, I wanna be inside you forever, Kenzie, goddess, I wanna fuck you until I die--”

They leaned heavily into each other for a moment; her cunt spasming up onto his cock, his cock shuddering into tenderness inside her; then he pulled out and Kenzie slid, weakly, to the floor, breathing heavily, her little breasts shuddering.

“Oh baby, are you alright--” Duncan immediately crouched to her, avoiding the sensitive area between his thighs, his eyes widening with alarm; he tucked a hand around the crook of her neck, the other hand coming around her waist and holding her up as he gently pushed her head towards him; her breathing was heavy and her eyes fluttered once more, half in and half out of consciousness. He pressed his fingers against her cheek softly, tapping it a little; her eyes trembled open, and the look she gave him was one of supple, dream-like trust.

“Oh, baby,” she whispered. “Oh, Duncan.” Her eyes hovered between opening and closing; her breath slowed, and she murmured “I’m so sleepy, baby,” and they closed and she was hovering there in his arms, breathing softly, lost in her post-coital euphoria.

Duncan pressed a kiss to her cheek; he hovered there, breathing in the smell of her skin, then he hitched his arm around the back of her knees and the other around her shoulders, and he picked her up, carrying her into the bedroom and onto the bed, where he pulled the sheets and the duvet over her little body; my poor angel, my poor sweet baby, he thought. I have to talk to her about a bodyguard tomorrow, I know she won’t want one, but I have to convince her it’s for the best, god, I have to. He watched the shadow of her eyelashes against her cheek, the slow breath that moved her body under the blanket, the slow shadow of her heartbeat against her throat. Then he moved towards the bathroom; his groin was still soaked in her release, his cock still throbbing as he came down from his orgasm; he went to one of the drawers under the bathroom sink to get the wet wipes he always stored there (a million uses) and paused, his heart in his mouth, as he saw her little toiletries lined along one side of the sink, the side he’d cleared for her; his on the left, hers on the right. The dark red bottle of her perfume; he pulled it over to him and brought his nose to the nozzle, breathing in; roses, vetiver, geranium, and his body sighed into the smell, the smell that was her. A little black hairbrush rested on the edge of the sink; strands of her chestnut hair glinting in it. A little eyeliner stick, a tube of lipstick, a stick of mascara, a bottle of face wash. All her little things, the little pieces of her. His immaculate grooming supplies were on the opposite side, spotless and still; hers threw warmth into the space, made his cheeks blush; he wanted to touch everything, kiss each of her belongings, memorize their shape. Duncan felt overcome again; it was as if her things had always been missing before, leaving a Kenzie-shaped hole, one he didn’t know existed, but could feel, somewhere in his hidden heart. And now, they weren’t missing anymore. Here they were. He could reach out and touch them, like he could reach out and touch the smooth contour of her skin, the waves of her hair, where she slept in his bed. Our bed, he thought, smoky desire drifting, cleaning himself up, shivering as the cold wipe touched his still-sensitive cock; using another one under his arms, at the back of his neck. Our bathroom. Our apartment. I’m going to ask her to move in with me. How can I keep her safe if she isn’t here with me? How can I sleep without her now? He imagined reporters hounding her as she tried to leave for work in the morning; imagined people trying to get into her apartment building at night, trying to look in her windows. The thought absolutely chilled him. I’ll ask her. I want to soothe the worry I saw in her eyes tonight. I don’t want her to worry about anything, or anyone. And I don’t want to sleep alone anymore.

Duncan left the bathroom, naked, flipping the light-switch, but not before one long, last glance at Kenzie’s little things on the sink; he smiled, his heart full. He turned towards the closet, eyes falling over Kenzie where she slept again; she was breathing slowly now, far away, the diamonds still glinting at her throat; he went to her softly, unclasping the necklace at the nape of her neck, gently lifting it away from her so she wouldn’t wake, pressing the softest, lightest of kisses into her cheek, his heart on fire. He put it on the side-table, noticing her phone there; it was turned over so he could see its gold case and the moon sticker on it, fading away from use; he trailed one finger over it, lovingly, then turned and walked into his closet. Duncan bent to the drawer, in search of sweatpants, but he stopped, noticing the little outfits that now hung in the space he’d cleared for them; her clothes in my closet--our closet, he thought, and looked down on the shelf below, where there were a few other things stacked in a row; a little black bag, some little moon and star jewelry. Her little things. His chest swelled with longing; he wanted all of her things here, all of her, kissing him, blessing him; he longed not to be greedy, not to ask too much of her too soon, but he thought again of paparazzi outside her house and his mind clouded with concern, resolving to ask her in the morning. He pulled on the sweatpants, wincing as the waistband brushed against his cock, then, he moved out towards the kitchen (he paused, eyes falling on her hair tossed over the pillow tenderly, her little hand clutched against her mouth) and into the dining room, to clean up the dishes.

#millory #millory au #duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd au #house of cards au #michael x mallory #duncan x mackenzie #duncan shepherd x mackenzie stone #duncan shepherd x mallory #cody fern #billie lourd #cody x billie #collie #ahs apocalypse #body and soul #body and soul au #my fic