#since so many of their family members match with the mm found family

[tending-the-hearth]

MORE TURTLE ANGST AU BECAUSE TURT ANGST

because i am very very obsessed with versions of the turtles meeting each other i couldn't stop thinking about the utter angst that would ensue but also the softness and slow found family vibes

specifically the 2012 turtles meeting versions of themselves where tang shen doesn't exist, where splinter's entire world is the turtles + april

the 2012 turtles meeting, say, the rise!tmnt, the bayverse!tmnt, or the mutant mayhem!tmnt?? versions of the turtles whose splinters never had a serious love interest prior to their creation, whose love and attention was always solely focused on them?

i'm thinking about bayverse!splinter, who sacrificed himself for his boys without a second thought, who finds out about another version of himself who has all but pushed the turtles away, the precious turtles who are the light of splinter's life

mm!splinter, who literally was desperate to keep his beloved sons protected from possible dangers, who faced his greatest fear in order to help his boys, seeing how broken, how tired they are.

rise!splinter, who, despite how it seems, can and will put his boys above everything else, who cannot even fathom the idea of not wanting his sons around, of falling back into his life before the boys, seeing these versions of his sons be so easily abandoned

just... the 2012!turtles meeting different versions of themselves, and meeting different versions of splinter, and being so fully prepared to recieve that same cold shoulder, only to be gathered into warm embraces, and have gentle, fatherly reassurances whispered to them.

and they're rightfully hesitant, they're unsure, because having your father immediately turn to his original family without a second thought leaves some lasting trauma and pain, but they can't resist falling into the different splinters' arms, pouring their hearts out as they cry and listen to advice that only splinter can give.

and somehow, idk maybe the donnies make dimensional transport watches bc that's definitely a thing that would happen, so visiting the different dimensions, and hanging out with the different versions of themselves + splinter becomes a weekly thing. and slowly, the 2012!tmnt bring the other versions to their own world, introduce them to xever, and chris, and april, and casey, and the mutanimals, and it slowly spirals into all of them getting together and hanging out.

and the 2012 boys slowly start to realize that they do have a family. it may not be the one they thought they had, but it's even better, and full of people who truly love them.

@queen-with-the-quill @madcatgurl

[artxyra]

How about Damian being a part of Ms Buster's class when he was on a League mission and the class basically becoming a mini cult. They do all sorts of crazy stuff like make go-carts powered by karaoke machines, not leaving the builing when fires start because smores duh, and so much more.When his mission is over there are many tears and the cult disassembles. Years later the class gets a trip to Gotham and the city QUAKES when the cult reforms.Many chaotic shenanigans & crying at the reunion.

Marinette was only eight when her primary school life changed for the better. On that faithful day in Mlle. Gilbertine class, a new student was introduced under the precedent of a transfer from another country. His name was Damian, no last name was given to the teacher nor the students within the classroom. To her, Nino, Chloe, Nathaniel, and Kim, he was an odd boy as Damian stressed for no social relations with anyone. In fact, Marinette had caught several times engaging in lonesome activities when they were all together messing in the field. It was after that, Marinette made it her life’s mission to befriend the emotionless kid.

It was hard at first trying to trick the young man into dance battles, hopscotch, and simple games like red light, green light. He was very much against the idea until one day, Marinette decided on a shooting game with water guns and makeshift go-carts out of bike parts. It was the creation of that game that changed the young group’s lives forever.

Soon newer and crazier games began to take over the classroom of Mlle. Gilbertine. Nino would bring in his CD player and the moment music boomed out of the speakers everyone knew what was about to happen.

One day, when they were in the school pool area pretending to be sea monsters and attacking one another we kickboards and pool noodles, the group was then dubbed the “Premier Chaotique” cult as they were youthful and the stuff they come up with was chaotic than anything the future Hawkmoth could ever come up with.

Marinette and Damian were deemed the leaders as they were able to control and come up with the plans. Chloe, due to her father being in politics, was the person who decided on the locations and what would be the most chaotic method. The rest were their follower who cared much about Marinette.

Mlle. Gilbertine was determined to get the Premier Chaotique cult under control but they were slick and made plans at random, she remembers the day when tons of ice cup somehow managed to cover every one of her student desk and the odd appearance of snow sleds. It is rumored that the mini cult managed to keep their own little snow resort just using ice cream. It was a pain to clean up.

Marinette remembers the days where the mini cult would paint the city red with flowers and chaotic goodness. It is a miracle that the cops never brought their parents into the investigation. Then again with a child as pure as Marinette in the lead, people would fall over when they see her smile.

Their biggest achievement was when the school’s kitchen managed to catch on fire during a lunch period. While everyone else was being evacuated, the group somehow managed to slip through the adults and back into the cafeteria. Kim had brought marshmallows that day and when the firefighters enter to put out the flames, they were greeted with the sight of children with wood sticks eating smores and telling scary stories. It was their greatest achievement and the worst nightmare because only a day later, Damian had to go back to his home country.

Marinette fell into depression along with the others. After a month without Damian, they vowed to never speak of the best year of their life unless they ever meet Damian again. It was no secret that Marinette had a crush on the foreign boy, so the cult disassembles and never mentions Damian ever again.

Years past since that day, Chloe took it upon herself to bully Marinette as those who knew them in their younger days forget that they were ever friends. Marinette took on art along with Nathanial, but she went in the direction of fashion designing while he goes in direction of comic book styles. Nino stayed friends with all but Chloe and found his calling in music production. The name that used to strike fear in the hearts of the Paris citizens, faded away into a false memory.

Little did anyone know, the spirit of the Premier Chaotique cult lives on and would be awoken in just under two decades.

A sixteen-year-old Marinette works her butt off to make this trip a reality. It was not for the approval of her classmates, it was for her sanity. Three years of being Ladybug has put a toll on her and she plans to take advantage of the lack of akuma attacks going on. When the acceptance letter landed in her hands, her parents swear they saw a bolder be lifted off their daughter. She was smiling more and appeared less stressed than she ever been since finding out the school board decided to move teachers with their students as a handful of teachers left Paris, some even left France altogether.

Her closet allies were the first to know about the trip to Gotham before Mlle. Bustier was given the information. They cheered happily before anything bad could happen, dismantling everything Marinette has ever done.

After giving the proper miraculous to Luka and Kagami and convincing Kaalki to come with her to Gotham only to be used as an emergency, Marinette was set to leave Paris France and head to Gotham, New Jersey.

Upon entering the streets of Gotham, a cold chill runs down everyone’s spine aside from the former mini cult members. Too Mlle. Bustier, the chill was all too familiar bringing up memories of those kids that terrorized the streets before Hawkmoth. She looks around to see nothing out of place before promptly calling out her students so they could make it to the hotel.

Everyone who felt that chill had a right to be warry.

For the first day, everything seemed fine, but when you leave the original members of Premier Chaotique alone for a moment, well chaos was sure to happen. Chloe and Marinette had put aside their difference during the Lila era of the class reign took over and managed to stay friends after the liar’s reign ended. Plans were made but not yet enforced, it did not feel right, and they knew why– it was the lack of their leader Damian.

“Dams?” Marinette calls out when she saw the familiar sighting of the boy that was her first love. He hadn’t changed by much; he was still taller than her.

“Mars?” That nickname sent the French-Asian teen running into the arms of the Ice King himself. Time froze in that café for several reasons but the main one was definitely because they just witnessed Damian Wayne hugging someone willing.

“You look nice,” Marinette sways before a mischievous smirk tugs on her lips, “The others are here too.”

This time it was Damian who smirks bringing Marinette closer to him. “Mm, shall be bring Gotham to its knees?”

They share a smirk that was soon ended by an explosion.

Thus, the Premier Chaotique cult was reformed. They decided to meet that night. Dinosaur inflatable suits of various colors were brought. Music blared in the streets of Gotham nears hotel the class was staying out. The members of Premier Chaotique all strutting down in the middle of the streets dancing as Nino holds a boombox over his shoulder.

Jam Jams @crazyforbatsDid anyone else wake up to music and dancing dinos last night?

Kay @gokaykaer [A one-minute video of flashlights and six dinosaurs doing the Cha-Cha-Slide] I swear I just saw @thebloodwayne for a split second.

Twitter was blowing up the next morning with various videos and gifs of the events that happened the night before. The only people who weren’t affected by the popularity was the group who were apart of it.

Marinette and Damian spent the remains of that talking choosing which plan to do next. It would consist of bikes and a zip line from the tallest building to the smallest building possible.

Going to the Wayne household, Bruce could already feel a migraine coming as Dick and Jason plays the video over again in the main room. Damian shames his family members while the oldest complaints about why they haven’t thought of that for a family outing. It’s all about class, Dick, it all about class. Alfred mentally takes notice of the lack of emotions from Damian and the recent purchase from the teens account at a party store.

The next night, began the fears that every Parisian feared would happen.

Nino and Kim were able to find the buildings needed to hook the zip line to while Chloe set up the equipment with the help of Nathanial. Damian had to ditch his family members, and Marinette had to keep the class and others from finding out what they are doing. Once everything was ready, the Premier Chaotique enters their playground wearing hooded leotards (or bodysuits) with a latex match stretched their eyes. Kim went first down the zip line as Damian race down the streets on the bike. Originally, they were going to use the bikes as their way down, but the zip line could hold the bike and the person on it, so they turned it into a race instead.

Their fun ends when someone called the cops and sirens echoed loudly against their music. Gotham’s twitter users weren’t too happy that someone had called the cops on the bravest of things to ever surface on Gotham streets since Batman.

It was during the tour of Wayne Enterprise, that the Premier Chaotique learned Damian’s last name. He was an effing Wayne which then lead to some confusion. Marinette had asked Damian what his last name when they were eight and he replied with something along the lines of not being a Wayne until he was ten.

His brothers, in shock from seeing him interact with teens his age, begged Bruce to invite them over to the manor. This needs to go into the record books.

While it was a momentous occasion for Damian’s brothers, it was reality check for Mlle. Bustier. Her screams echo against the halls of WE as memories of the chaos are awoken. She stares at Marinette in denial, there was no way her prize student was about the cult that did so much damage all those years ago. Then on top of that having the entire crew in her classroom, Caline was beginning to feel faint.

Bruce, unknowingly, invited even more chaos into his household that night. Chloe and Marinette were able to convince Mlle. Bustier to let the five of them stay with Mr. Wayne for the night in hopes of “catching up” with Damian. After getting the approval from Mr. Wayne, she agreed secretly ecstatic that they wouldn’t be in her care for the next several hours.

“I’m bored, let’s play a prank?” Kim randomly shouts when they were all staring out the TV waiting for something good to come on.

“What do you have in mind?” Marinette asks as Damian pushes her off him knowing that she’ll use him as a throne.

“Hey Dams, do you own go-carts are something of a familiar nature?”

Damian thinks about it for a minute, “Tt, father wouldn’t dare let those things in the house. We can prank my brothers though. Scaring them shitless would bring me joy.”

“Well I have a few ideas, we can use.” Chloe states pulling out the book of mischief.

Let’s just say that prank will forever rule the day the Batfamily ever found out about the Premier Chaotique.

Permanent Tag List: @vixen-uchiha | @i-is-mysterious | @kuroko26 | @maribat-is-lifeblood | @marinettepotterandplagg | @loveswifi | @ladybug-182 | @novaloptr |

Unspecific Tag List: @g-arya | @jardimazul | @jeminiikrystal | @zalladane | @bluerosette23 | @dast218 |

[consumedkings-archive]

WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.

chapter eleven: after you've gone

word count: ~12.6k

rating: m

warnings: canon-typical religious blasphemy, though it's in full-force here with joseph so i wanted it to be noted in the warnings. there are mentions of self-harm, both past and implied presently, and they're not treated very lightly. elliot is having a hard time.

notes: there's a lot of moving parts in this so i apologize in advance if it feels a bit slow, but everything felt really important to include and i wanted to make sure nothing got left out. thank you so much to my beta @starcrier who literally proofed this beast with all of the love in the world.

i won't ramble on too much, but i did want to say that the reception for the last two chapters really made my whole heart just explode and i wanted to thank you all! what an incredible experience it is getting to write these two gigantic idiots. <3

“I saw her. Our mor.”

Helmi cradled the phone between her shoulder and ear, scribbling absently on the side of the file she’d continued nosing through once she’d gotten back to the bunker. Like this, she felt far from Kajsa—farther than she had in the longest time. Maybe since they had welcomed her into the Family.

“Did you?” She stretched back against the truck’s seat, feet kicked up on the dash as she scanned the page, going over her own notes. Starvation, classical condition. On animals and people? In the back seat of the truck, Peaches rumbled her discontent at lack of attention; Helmi reached back and scratched her ears until the rumble turned into what she recognized as a more contented purr.

“Yes. She is doing well. Her color is just as Ase said, you know. Perfectly balanced. Poor John—I can see his suffering.”

Helmi hmm’d, the thoughtfulness matching the patient rumble Peaches had rewarded her affection with.

“Is Deputy Pratt behaving?”

“I should hope so. He has no reason to have any loyalty to the Seeds, outside of fear.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. Helmi was sure, in the very marrow of her bones, that Kajsa was smiling.

“And what did you give him, Helmi? To make him loyal?”

She considered. “A more impressive fear.” And then: “Also, I said I wouldn’t kill him.”

“That is just a more impressive fear bundled up pretty, my heart.”

“Mm,” Helmi replied in agreement. Whatever the case, she thought that Pratt had more to gain from fucking the Seeds over than he did by fucking them over—and that’s why Kajsa entrusted this sort of thing to her and didn’t do it herself, after all. If it had been Kajsa here, eyeing Pratt like a piece of lunchmeat, she’d have him drugged to the gills and barely aware of what was going on. Not being of use.

It’s why we make a perfect pair, something inside of her said, joy shared, joy doubled.

“Don’t rest on your laurels.”

Sorrow shared, sorrow halved.

Helmi sighed. “I’m not.”

“Keep putting pressure. I want them squirming, hjärtat.”

“I will.” She paused, sitting up in the truck and glancing out at the remaining members of the Family. Those that hadn’t given themselves a swift, clean death. After Kian’s face was crushed in, Kajsa had gathered them all and said, It’s going to be harder, from here. If you feel you cannot do it, if you think that you do not have the strength to answer our calling, then it is your time. We love you.

It had been the time for many. Morale had been—and still was—low. Ase’s death first, gut-wrenching and tragic, and then Kian’s; worse than the last. Worse, because while he had been grieving, while he had been suffering, he had still been their second-in-command. Meant to be infallible, even more so than Ase. He had been meant to carry them into their next life, after It was appeased. Contented. After It had turned the world to winter.

Now, more than ever, with only a handful of them left to huddle around their fires and sleep in the backs of cars, and kiss and laugh and hug each other in the inky black night, they felt like a ship adrift at sea.

Kajsa’s voice hummed in her ear, plastic and metal vibrating where it lay trapped between her head and shoulder. Helmi’s gaze swept away from the remaining Family members and turned her gaze back to the file. The Seeds were deeply rooted in this place—the tendrils of a tree that might be dead at the trunk but stayed for many decades after, if it wasn’t ripped out at the base.

“Did you hear me, Helmi?”

“No,” she replied truthfully. “I was distracted.”

“I am coming back,” Kajsa reiterated patiently.

“The others will be happy.”

“And what about you? Will you be happy?”

Helmi paused. She closed the file, dropped it back onto the dashboard and cranked the seat back so that she could stretch a little, her eyes tracing the tinny, ancient ceiling of the truck she’d lifted from Eden’s Gate. She exhaled, once, and then held her breath; closed her eyes, felt the ache of it between her ribs.

“I sense before me a lost lamb.”

“Not lost,” Helmi replied, her lungs tight. “Just—thinking.”

“Must I divine the dark cloud over your soul myself?”

She allowed her body to take air back in. “I wonder,” she murmured, “if it will be enough to appease the Father.”

“Do you wonder,” Kajsa hummed, “or do you worry?”

A moment of silence stretched. And then, the rich, melodic timbre of the Hierophant’s voice came through again, idle and pulled snug against her ear, like Kajsa was really right there again to say the words against her skin: “What will you do, if Staci Pratt defects despite your Machiavellian threats of harm so great he should never consider to incur it?”

“I don’t know,” Helmi replied uneasily. “It would depend on if he brought mor and the interloper, or if he just—”

“The answer, hjärtat, is that you do not know, because it has not been revealed to you yet.” Despite the interruption, Kajsa’s voice was pleasant and serene. Ever since Ase’s death, she’d been more tempered—like she was playing a role, filling a void. Helmi almost missed her cruelty. Like it was a creature comfort. “There is no use in wondering, because we will never know before it is our time to. We want for much. Whether or not we are given it remains to be seen. Our Father is a most...”

Her voice trailed off. Helmi tried to think of what words Kajsa might use; stringent, perhaps, ambitious, or even enigmatic—

“Wretched god,” Kajsa finished, a grin in her voice. “It does so love to watch us toil, does It not?”

“Yes,” she answered after a moment, because wretched resonated somewhere in her soul, somewhere in the marrow of her bones, reminding her why this had felt like home ever in the first place. Wretched, to watch them suffer, to give them so little information and let them suffer wreck after wreck.

In front of her, the dark of the forest swelled, breathed, reminded her: failure was not an option. Theirs was not a benevolent, forgiving God, the kind who would forgive sin if one only asked—the Father was wrathful, was vengeful, and would make them suffer their insolence and their ineptitude.

“I should get going. I imagine our mor will not be far behind, thanks to your ingenuity, and I want to be in Hope County to welcome her.”

“I am,” Helmi blurted out after a second of hesitation, “happy, that you’re coming back.”

There was a pause on the other end; and then, a soft breath, where Helmi thought maybe Kajsa was smiling again.

“Ingenting under solen är beständigt, my heart.”

The call clicked. Only empty air and static, then, buzzing faintly in the ear, the words dead in her mouth before she’d had the chance to say them back.

Nothing under the sun is lasting.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Elliot was going to be sick. Nevermind the morning-after-dread of realizing she had caved in on her most basest animal desires—What, the man who’s perhaps lied to you the most tells you he’s never thought you’re crazy, and you let him fuck you? Come on, Elliot,—but listening to Pratt ramble nervously into the phone about how he didn’t realize everyone was gone, nobody stopped to look for him, nobody tried to call, he thought she had left too and she had, where was she? Was she okay?

“I’m fine,” she managed out. Guilt ripped through her sternum, burning hot and shameful. I’m fine, Pratt, don’t worry about me. Got well and truly railed last night, it’s fine. Oh, also, I’m going to have a baby. And I’m married. Don’t worry, you found out about the same time as me, just off a few weeks. “I’m at my mom’s.”

“In Georgia?”

“Yeah.” Elliot swallowed thickly. “Are you okay? You sound like shit.”

Pratt laughed uneasily on the other end of the line. “I’m with, uh—I’m with them.” He paused. “The Seeds. And their—the lawyer lady.”

“That doesn’t tell me if you’re okay,” she reiterated, more firmly.

He laughed again. “I’m on the phone with you, aren’t I?”

Frustrating. They might all be looming around him, waiting to hear what she was going to say. It was a trap, of course. Jacob or Joseph had done enough digging around in her past to find out they’d gone to school together, had gone to school dances, had basically dated—and they knew she’d evacuated the entirety of the Resistance otherwise. They were clearly laying a trap to get her to come back. But for what?

“Hey, um—” Staci cleared his throat. “Ell, there’s—a lot of bad stuff going on. There’s these people, and they’re—they’re just killing people, left and right, gutting them and sticking them up and—Jesus, they fucking split Miss Mabel open like a fish, and I’m—”

Oh, there it was; the sickness, the violent urge to throw up. The Family was supposed to be dead. They had been killing themselves off in pairs after Kian’s death, weren’t they? Elliot blinked rapidly, trying to calm the furious beating of her heart, the way it slammed against her rib cage and demanded penance.

Calloused fingers swept her hair to the side and squeezed at the juncture between her neck and shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. She closed her eyes tight, willing herself to accept it for what it was—John, comforting her, because even now he knew her well enough to see she was spiraling.

I can’t, is what she needed to say. I can’t come back, Staci, I can’t, not me and not my baby, my hands are already covered in blood I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—

“—I’m so fucking scared, Ell.” Pratt’s voice wobbled on the other end, hitting straight at the fresh welt of guilt in her chest, ripping and tearing at it.

I can’t—

“I don’t want to be alone—”

I’m sorry I can’t I’m sorry—

“—I’m sorry—”

“I’ll come,” she blurted out, her voice hoarse, the burn behind her eyes and in her nose a threat of oncoming tears. She couldn’t stand it—couldn’t bear to hear him like this, when this whole time he was supposed to have been safe. She’d let him down, and while she had a responsibility to herself, the responsibility to the others had always come first.

And, better still, was the tiny, tiny fragment of hope that the dark-haired woman with a mouth like broken glass would be left behind, too. The dog with the man’s face and the strands of her hair glinting between Its bloody teeth would stay here, in Weyfield. It would wait for her, but perhaps there would be some peace there, too.

It waits for you, It waits for us all, It will have you. As It gives, so too does It take.

“Tell them I’m coming back.” Elliot bit the words out through her teeth. “And tell them if I come back and you’re hurt, or dead, or—if there’s anything wrong with you, I’m going to fucking kill them. Okay?”

“No need,” came Jacob’s voice over the phone. “You’re on speaker, Deputy Honeysett. We’re well acquainted with your particular brand of mania.”

“Great,” she snapped, feeling a vicious flush spread through her cheeks despite the fact that she didn’t feel bad at all for what she’d said. “You thought I was fucking manic before? I had nothing to lose, then. Imagine how much worse I’ll make your life now—”

John’s hand squeezed again. This time, she shot him a venomous look over her shoulder and shrugged him off. Elliot knotted her fingers in Boomer’s fur and prompted again, “Is that clear?”

The eldest Seed sounded like he was smiling when he said, “Crystal, Deputy.”

“Good.” She paused. “And don’t fucking call me that. I’m not a deputy, anymore.”

“Sure thing, hellcat.”

“Pratt—”

Jacob’s voice came again: “Have a safe trip.”

The phone call beeped once, twice, three times, and then ended. The hard knot of dread in the pit of her stomach did not lessen; she hit the redial button, and it went straight to voicemail. Again, and again, and again, her hands shaking as she thought wait, I didn’t get to say goodbye, I didn’t get to promise I’d be there, I’m coming Pratt, I’m coming please don’t be worried, before she shoved the phone into John’s grip.

“Call him back,” she demanded, “make him pick up the phone—”

“Elliot,” he began, “if he turned the phone off, I can’t—”

“Fuck you!” she snapped, coming to a stand and raking her fingers through her hair. “You fucking knew they had Pratt, didn’t you? You knew that he was still trapped there and he didn’t get out, and you fucking left him there, so that you could pull me back if it didn’t go the way you wanted—”

John stood too, setting the phone on the bedside table and lifting his hands. The gesture was meant to calm and soothe, see my hands? Here they are, no threat here, but all it did was make her angrier, stoke a fire inside of her that had apparently lain dormant since she’d left Hope County.

Elliot smacked his hands down. “Don’t treat me like some fucking animal, John.”

“I’m not,” he defended quickly, dropping his hands all the way back to his sides when Boomer barked twice, sharp and accusatory, hackles lifting. “I didn’t know Pratt was still there. I thought the Resistance had got him out, and I didn’t bother asking.”

“You should have bothered—”

“I’m just as displeased as you are,” John interjected dryly, the dark coloring of his tone implying that he was—but for perhaps a different reason. It struck her that he might, in fact, be so displeased because he was aware of their history, on some level. It did feel a little gratifying to know that he was squirming for such an insignificant reason.

“You fuckhead,” she spit. “You put a fucking baby in me and you still have the insecurity of a middle school boy.”

“We both know,” he replied tartly, “that our baby is not in any way binding you to me, Elliot. And is it so shocking, considering that the thing that I want most in the world is for you to come home, and you fight me at every turn—”

“Hope County isn’t my home anymore—”

“—but Staci Pratt calls you and cries a little into the phone, and you’re jumping at the bit to go back?”

“Fuck. Off,” Elliot bit out between her teeth, face flushing. “Pratt is my friend, which is more than I can say for you.”

“Right,” John agreed, “because you let the person you hate fuck you.”

Her mouth clamped shut, biting and swallowing back a wad of venom she thought might make her sick if she let it out. There was too much of it, the things that she wanted to say—fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou, I fucking hate you, you make me sick, if anything is wrong with Pratt I’ll kill your brothers and then I’ll fucking kill you too—but she didn’t say any of it.

Instead, she said, “Get out. I’m getting changed and we’re leaving.”

John sighed, passing a hand over his face for a moment like maybe he regretted what he’d said. “We can’t.”

She felt her voice spike, near incredulous hysteria: “Pardon?”

“Old Father Time of the Job Ineptitude mentioned he had Federal agents showing up out of nowhere,” he snapped. The words had her stomach twisting; her first thought was a tiny spike of happiness at the idea of Cameron Burke, and then it was quickly doused by the sharp reminder that she’d stolen his gun and ran with it. Because he thought she was crazy. Because he was going to put her behind bars.

John continued, “He seemed to be implying it was somehow related to me showing up, and by proxy you, and if we up and leave—”

“It’ll make it look more suspicious,” she finished, feeling a little numb. “Okay, so—what? How long do we have to wait?”

He scratched his cheek, his eyes flickering absently over the duvet on the bed, like he was trying to map it out in his own head. No doubt, he was trying to operate on multiple timelines—the timeline of Not Raising Suspicion, and whatever timeline Joseph had given him.

Some things really did never change.

“After your mother’s Christmas party,” he ventured finally. “It’s not quite Christmas—could look enough like we’re sticking around for enough holiday cheer to be passable before leaving again. Pritchard’s clearly not unfamiliar with your mother’s...”

His voice trailed off. He looked to her as though asking for permission to say something critical; when Elliot remained stonefaced and immovable, he finished, “...temperament.”

“Nice save.”

“Well,” he replied, humble as ever. “Anyway, that probably wouldn’t rouse suspicion. If it is Burke, and your house isn’t getting stormed right now, I have to think he’s here on unofficial business. Otherwise, why wouldn’t they just come and bust the door down and grab you?”

Elliot hoped that was the case. She hoped this meant that Burke was just trying to find her, and was not hunting her down at the behest of the government. If there was one thing that Joseph had been right about amidst all his doomsday-saying and whatnot, it was that according to the news, there was a big chance the government had bigger things on their hands. Bigger concerns than a tiny town in Montana and its cult inhabitants.

“Get out,” she said again. “So I can change.”

“You—” John sucked in a little breath, stopping himself from what was inevitably going to be stirring another argument; he lifted his hands again, this time in surrender. “Alright, Ell. I said you’d get anything you want, I’ll give it to you.”

“Chop-chop.”

“I’m going. Mind if I pull some clothes on before I walk out into the house owned by your mother, where she has almost assuredly been sipping her vodka martini since four AM?”

She felt her eyes narrow. “Fine.”

Turning, she crossed the bedroom into the master bath and shut the door behind her, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes until fine webbing scattered across the dark of her eyelids. This was the last thing she needed—and it felt, surely, traitorous and awful to think it, to think, this is the last thing I need, Pratt needing rescuing, when the only reason she’d felt comfortable leaving Hope County in the first place was because she thought the only people who were left were cultists.

Elliot dropped her hands from her eyes, blinking a few times until her vision cleared. In the mirror—much as it had been since coming back from Hope County—stood a girl that she thought looked like a stranger. Blushed cheeks and kiss-reddened lips, her neck littered with love marks, the healthy glow blooming up from beneath the WRATH scar on her chest, exposed by her loosely cinched robe.

That’s not me, she thought, pulling absently on a strand of red hair and swallowing thickly. I’m not that girl.

Her face was softer than before, more lively color rising up around her eyes and cheeks and mouth. More of her freckles had come out. There was a tiny, tiny—almost imperceptible—slope to her tummy, now, too.

Not me, came the thought again, more distressed this time, her brows pulling together at the center of her forehead. That’s not me. I’m not that girl. Who are you, pretty girl? Not me.

The woman and her dark hair—dark dark dark, like an oil slick, looming in the corner of her mind. Her mouth red as pomegranate and stretched like broken glass.

I hear stress is bad for the baby.

A knock came at the door. Elliot blinked, feeling unwell and unsure of how long she’d been standing there, her hand having dropped to cup the slope of her stomach experimentally. Women did that, right? When they were pregnant? Did it make them feel closer to the baby? Did it make them feel more protected?

Did she feel safer?

“Ell,” John said, nudging the door open, “your mother is...”

Pulling away from the door, she cinched the robe tight and busied herself at the sink, turning the water on. As he stepped into the bathroom, she could see John was now fully-dressed, freshly-showered. She’d been standing in front of the mirror trying to recognize the person staring back at her long enough for him to do that, it seemed.

“That was a quick shower,” she said briskly, splashing her face and rubbing absently at her cheek. She could feel John’s eyes on her through the mirror, even though she refused to meet them.

“I’ve always preferred it that way,” he replied casually. And then: “Get distracted?”

Yes, she thought, but didn’t say, because then the things he’d said last night that had made her feel sane and normal wouldn’t mean anything anymore. John would have said I don’t think you’re crazy and he’d have to take it back, because if she told him there was a stranger standing in her mirror, he would think she was crazy.

“It’s weird,” is what Elliot offered after a moment, trying to find a way to be honest and redirect, “to see a baby bump. Even if it’s small.” She cleared her throat and fished her toothbrush out of the holder. Continuing briskly, she added, “And the scar. I spent a lot of time avoiding it.”

John’s expression had done that funny thing that she supposed was softening at her words. He stepped forward; the ghost of his fingers trailing her ribs over the robe made her skin prickle with goosebumps.

“I’m not done being mad at you,” she warned him, eyes flickering to meet his gaze through the mirror.

“I know,” he replied, tone agreeable. “I just—”

The brunette paused then, waiting for her to stop him before he smoothed the warmth of his palm over her hip, across the expanse of her abdomen. It was painfully intimate in a way that didn’t imply sex—intimate, in the way that she felt seen, that she could see the relief coloring the edges of his expression.

John pressed his mouth to the back of her shoulder. “Just missed you,” he murmured after a moment. “Getting to touch you. Even just like this. Especially just like this—”

Something panged sharp and unforgiving in her chest. “Well, don’t get used to it,” she replied tightly, brushing his hand away from the baby bump after letting it linger for a moment. “And I don’t remember inviting you in.”

“Your mother was asking after you,” John said, by way of explanation, looking pleased from their little moment. Fucker. “She wanted to know if you’d be drinking coffee this morning. I think her exact words were, ‘Mr. Seed, would you ask my daughter if she’s going to take the risk of drinking coffee this morning? I know she shouldn’t be, with her condition—’”

“Ugh.”

“‘—but since we’re going to be picking out her dress for the Christmas party today, I could make an exception—’”

“Fuck me,” she muttered, wetting her toothbrush and putting the toothpaste on it. “Ask her if she can make it extra strong.”

“I’m actually enjoying being out of your mother’s ire for a minute.”

Elliot rolled her eyes. “No coffee for me.”

“Got it.” John headed for the bathroom door, and then paused again, turning to look at her. “Ell,” he began, “I really didn’t know—you know, about Pratt.”

That pesky little flutter of something agonizingly sweet—softness—in her chest flared again.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” is what she said, before she turned the toothbrush on and started scrubbing her teeth. That seemed enough of an answer for John, for once, because he left and closed the door quietly behind him after deliberating.

The minutes, and hours, and days—well, day or two—until they got back to Hope County were going to be something close to agony. She could only hope they had taken her seriously when she told them that she’d better come back to a Pratt in one piece.

I don’t want to be alone. Pratt’s voice echoed hauntingly in her head. She thought she could remember the sound of voices in the background—a woman’s, at least. Faith? Or John’s friend, Isolde? Surely Jacob and Joseph were there listening to him call her, too. She’d been so fucking stupid to let them get to her.

No, not stupid. Not stupid to want Pratt to feel safe, and like someone was coming back for him.

I’m sorry, she thought tiredly, as though the words could somehow get to him. I’m sorry, that it’s me you have to wait for.

I’m sorry that I won’t be the person you remembered.

I’m sorry.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You did so well, Staci.”

Faith’s voice jarred him out of the weird pause in time he’d been marinating in. It had been just a few seconds, maybe—Jacob and Joseph were talking in low voices, the dark-haired woman standing at the point of their little triangle with her arms crossed and her brows furrowed—that his brain had shut off, the distress in Elliot’s voice echoing eerily in his head. She’d sounded so upset. He wouldn’t have called, wouldn’t have started to ask her to come back, if he’d known how much she didn’t want to.

But that wasn’t true, either. He would have called, because Helmi had said, Either the Seeds are going to drag her back by her hair kicking and screaming, and eventually kill her, or she comes back and we keep her safe.

‘Safe’ had been the keyword there. He didn’t know how much he could take the woman at her word, but considering everything—well, it was better than trying to take the Seeds at their word.

Faith’s hand touched the back of his, startling him into a tiny jump. He cleared his throat. “Um—I wasn’t...Acting.”

“Still,” she replied sweetly, “I know it must have been hard.”

She was so polished—skin all dusted silver and moonlike, flushed with a little high color in her cheeks, her blonde hair tumbling around her face loosely. In the chapel, the air was tepid at best, and frigid at worst, keeping a little pink in everyone’s faces.

It was strange to look at her now. Her hands were soft; her skin unblemished. Just hours ago, he’d been sitting in the car, noticing the same kinds of details about Helmi—about how human she looked, hand slung over a steering wheel, her cracked phone plugged into the truck’s stereo and her chipped nail polish and the scars and bruises littering her knuckles. The way she’d shot him a toothy, wolfish grin as she cranked the volume up and said, What, Staci Pratt, you don’t like Blue Öyster Cult either?

In comparison, Faith didn’t feel human at all. She felt like a dream.

“Can—” Pratt came to a stand, rubbing his palms on the tops of his thighs. “Can I go? Lay down, or something?”

Three pairs of eyes snapped to him. The dark-haired woman, who Jacob kept referring to as Sol, completely ignored his question and looked at the redhead to say, “Has someone checked him for head trauma?”

“I’m not—concussed!” Pratt snapped, his voice wobbling. “I’m just tired.”

Jacob’s eyes narrowed. He looked like maybe he wanted to say something, and then reconsidered, saying, “Dr. Hale will take a look at you and then sure, Peaches, you can rest.”

It took every ounce of his self-control to not tell Jacob to stop calling him that. He had to remember that as far as they were concerned, he hadn’t been taken in by the “other side”, he’d been sitting scared and meek like a good boy at the compound.

Pratt’s eyes darted, catching sight of the woman that Jacob gestured to with a free hand. Right. The Fall’s End vet. She’d been here for what—a little over a year? He couldn’t tell if she was being held captive by Eden’s Gate or if she was there by her own volition, though the few times he’d run into her before she’d seemed like a pretty even-keel person. Didn’t she have like, two degrees or something? What was she doing here?

He made his way to the back of the church, meeting the curly-haired blonde halfway. Definitely looked too clean to be a cultist. “You’re not a people doctor, right?” he asked uneasily, watching as her head cocked to the side and her mouth quirked in a bit of amusement.

“No, Mr. Pratt, I am not a people doctor.” She fell into step beside him, opening the chapel door for him. “But I do have first aid training, which I think is about as good as you’re going to get around these parts.”

“I didn’t get a concussion.”

“That’s good. When was the last time you ate?”

His mouth twisted in a frown, trailing after through the snow as the cold began to sink into his bones. She seemed awfully confident moving around the compound, if she wasn’t part of the cult. But if she was, what was she doing here? How did—?

Pain bloomed behind his eyes, a fresh headache sinking into his nerves. Too much. It was too much confusion, about Elliot (pregnant? And John Seed was with her?) and about the Family and about all of these—these people that he didn’t really recognize hanging around the Seeds. And the compound was so quiet. Where was everyone? Had the Family really taken that many of Eden’s Gate out?

“Mr. Pratt?”

The woman opened a door into a bunkhouse that glowed with golden light from within and radiated heat. Two long-haired shepherds lay on the floor at the foot of the bed, lifting long faces and peering at him with dark eyes. He stepped inside and cleared his throat.

“Uh, a day, maybe,” he replied after a minute. Taking a seat when she gestured for him to, he shifted uncomfortably as she set a first aid kid on the cushion beside him and pulled one of the wooden chairs up in front of him.

“And slept?” She blew a curl out of her face and opened the kit, fishing around to find some alcohol wipes and Neosporin. He guessed he was a bit worse for wear than he’d thought, initially; not that he’d been taking great care of himself, even when it had just been him and Dani. She’d encouraged him to stay high, not stay better.

Fuck, I’m such an idiot.

He let out a little hiss when she pressed one of the alcohol wipes to a cut on his cheek.

“The same,” he replied, reaching up and brushing her hand away. “What—what are you doing here, doctor?”

“Arden is fine.” She sat back, regarding him curiously. “I’m cleaning that cut, Mr. Pratt. It looks agitated.”

“No, I—” Pratt let out a little breath. “I mean here. In the compound.”

Arden stared at him for a moment, like she didn’t understand why he was asking her that question. She lifted her hand and arched a brow inquisitively; when he nodded shortly, she leaned forward again, balancing her free hand on his shoulder and using the other to gently dab at the cut.

“I’ve spent the last month or so holed up in my house,” she explained to him. “Me, and the dogs, I mean.”

A little smile ghosted over her lips, and despite himself, Pratt felt a wry smile tugging at his own. It was difficult not to feel relaxed, when Arden moved with so much surety. In the glow of the radiators ticking away and the warm yellow light, especially.

“Mostly reading. They had assigned one of the boys to me—Santiago. I think he’s John’s man. He doesn’t strike me as one of Joseph or Faith’s.”

Pratt made a little noise of agreement, because he knew exactly what she was talking about. She dropped the alcohol wipes to the side and reached over for the Neosporin, dabbing some onto her finger and then reaching back up to resume her work.

“Sorry,” he said after a moment. “That you got—stuck, I mean. Here.”

“Oh, you don’t need to apologize, Mr. Pratt.”

“I feel partially responsible,” he admitted, feeling some of the tension flee his shoulders. “You know, being law enforcement and all—”

“Hold still, please.”

“Sorry,” he said again. “I guess what I mean is—sometimes it feels like a real failing on our part. All of those people, I...”

He paused, and Arden leaned back, giving him a pat on the knee. “That’s alright, Mr. Pratt,” and her voice bloomed with comfort. “Where was I?”

“Up at your house, with the dogs and maybe one of John’s men.”

“Right. I wasn’t allowed to leave, you know, on account of the—” She gestured with an elegant hand. “Cult running amok.”

He nodded. “Cult number two.”

Arden smiled, and continued, “And then just a few days ago, after one of them started killing those folks in Fall’s End, Jacob came up to get me.”

The way she said it made him feel, a little uneasily, that maybe he was misreading it. Jacob came up to get me did not sound like Jacob came to pick me up because I’m his prisoner.

And then she said, “He was worried, you know. Only having a radio up there. I know how to use a gun, but I’d prefer not to, if I don’t have to, and—”

“Sorry,” he blurted out, “but are you—”

She blinked light eyes at him, almost owlishly, like she didn’t understand the question. “Am I...?”

“With? Them?” Pratt gestured towards where the chapel lay, beyond the bunkhouse walls. “The—Eden’s Gate?”

“Oh!” Arden laughed, almost sheepishly; he felt a nervous little laugh bubbling out of him too, almost hoping for the relief of her assuring him that she was, in fact, not in league with the Darwinian psycho that had spent the last few months mindfucking every resident he could get his hands on.

She came to a stand and pulled a bottle of ibuprofen and a granola bar out of the kit, dropping them in his hand.

“Eat the bar before you take the ibuprofen,” she told him, “or it’ll—well, I’m sure you know. Upset stomach, and all that. Do you want to take a shower?”

Pratt’s fingers curled around the ibuprofen bottle. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m sorry,” Arden replied, not sounding very sorry at all, “I guess I just thought it a bit silly. Who else would I be “with”?”

His stomach somersaulted, sinking viciously. Suddenly, the granola bar—which had certainly been sitting in the kit for who knew how long—looked even less appetizing than before. While his vision swam for a second, the woman carried on conversationally, as though she had not just revealed herself to—

Well, to be in league with the Darwinian psycho that had spent the last few months mindfucking every resident he could get his hands on.

“But—they think the world is ending,” Pratt blurted out, lifting his eyes to look at her finally. “And—doctor, all the people they killed, and—”

“Don’t strain yourself, Mr. Pratt. You’ve been under quite a bit of duress as of late, I think, and it would be best to try and keep those stress levels down.” She moved to the small pantry beside the bathroom, shuffling around and producing a few towels, leaning into the bathroom to set them on the counter. “Though, you do bring up a funny point—have you been listening to the news? I suppose you haven’t. I remember listening to the news before all of this business went down and thinking that the world had ended a long time ago. We were just a bit behind, all the way out here. Do you want to take a shower?”

Blinking furiously, Pratt searched his brain for the answer; he muddled through the disappointment raking down his spine, the delicate little hope that had been fostered at the prospect of finding someone who was kind and not under the Seeds’ thumb being crushed beneath the weight of the reality of his situation.

“Yes please,” he managed out, his voice hoarse.

“Alright. Eat that bar first, so you don’t pass out in the hot water. And Mr. Pratt?”

“Y—” He had clumsily ripped open the granola bar and shoved half into his mouth, the fear of being seen as disobedient when Jacob Seed was within radius flickering like a wildfire through his body. He swallowed thickly, the dry food feeling like it was sticking to the inside of his mouth. “Um, yes?”

Her expression colored sympathetic, Arden reached down and fished a water bottle out of the case, dropping it in his hand.

“The honorific isn’t necessary,” she told him. “Remember, Arden is just fine.”

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbled. “I mean—Arden.”

She smiled, this time with teeth. “Good. You holler if you need me.”

I won’t, he thought, even though she was probably preferable to anyone else coming to his rescue.

Maybe he really would rather be dead.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Scarlet insisted that John stay at the house while they went to the boutique. It was all a big show of his mother-in-law attempting, he thought, to be polite, though she failed miserably at it; and as much as John wanted to argue that it would probably be best if he came along—considering their late-night visitor—he could tell when a battle was a lost one, and when it wasn’t.

“Do you think you can do that, Mr. Seed?” she asked, pulling the objectively ostentatious fur coat around her shoulders and buttoning it. “Remain in my home for a few hours, without causing me any problems?”

He said, “I think I can certainly give it a shot,” to which the blonde rolled her eyes.

“Please do more than that.”

“Rest assured, I am fully capable of behaving myself, Mrs. Honeysett.”

He couldn’t wait to be rid of her. Every second he spent in her presence, being reminded of how little she liked him given how much she didn’t know about him—or care to get to know about him, anyway—he thought, I cannot fucking wait to get back to Hope County and the resurgence of the Family. I cannot wait until that is my only fucking problem. Anyone else and she would have been thoroughly cleansed; clearly, Wrath ran in the family. Just the thought of it made his fingers itch.

Elliot had looked tired already, standing at the door and letting her mother go first. As soon as Scarlet was out the door, carefully picking her way down the front steps, John’s hand went to Ell’s hip; her lashes fluttered at the contact, but she didn’t jerk away; only tensed, considering the act of balking and pulling away from him but not yet committing. So there had been progress.

Her free hand came to his shoulder, resting there uncertainly. “Please don’t do anything to my mother’s house.”

“As much as I would love to, I will refrain from my wretched impulses. I am a man of God, after all.” He grimaced. “Do you think she’ll like me more if things are immaculate?”

“Ha-ha. She certainly will not.” She paused, letting out a little breath. “Okay. Back in an hour.”

He felt a smile tug at his mouth. “Ambitious.” His hand drifted to the small of her back, and he said, “Ell, before you go—”

“John, I don’t—”

Elliot turned to look at him at the same time that he stepped forward, closing what little distance there was and rapidly; she blinked, and her eyes flickered to his mouth instinctively, like she was expecting it—like she’d gotten used to the affection when he closed in on her like that. The gesture sent a little thrill through his stomach.

Mine.

“Don’t let her stress you out,” John murmured, keeping his voice low between just the two of them. “You’ll look good in whatever you pick.”

She turned her face away, cheeks going pink. “What’s this, huh? Still trying to make up for being a complete fuckhead this morning?”

He grinned. “You really have gotten brattier.”

“Goodbye, John,” she said, and then he leaned in and kissed her; the connection made every part of him sigh, collectively, as though he’d just been waiting for it.

Waiting for her.

Yes yes yes, it all said when she didn’t pull away, his fingers curling into the fabric of her sweater at the small of her back as her hand slipped from his shoulder to his chest, yes, mine all mine.

Elliot did pull back after a moment, putting a bit of space between them—though it seemed more to catch her breath than anything else. She only pulled back enough for their eyes to meet; John’s gaze darted downward, watching pearly teeth as they tugged at her lower lip, worrying it there for a moment.

“To answer your question,” he continued as casually as he could, “that’s not how I intend on making that up to you.”

“So you agree?” Elliot asked. Her voice came out evenly, despite the color blooming underneath the freckles on her cheeks. “You were being a complete fuckhead this morning?”

“I did so miss our banter.”

“Bunny,” Scarlet called impatiently from the driveway, “the boutique is going to get crowded if we don’t get there when it opens.”

“I’m coming!” Her gaze darted back to him. “The best way to make it up to me would be to say the words out loud,” Elliot informed him as she inched toward the door. “So that baby can hear them, too. At least you’ll have been more honest around our child than with me, if we’re keeping a running tally, and we should—”

He tugged her back from the doorway again, lighter, more playful as he went in to kiss her a second time; but she pulled back, just out of his reach, hand planted firmly on his chest.

Elliot said, “I told you not to get used to it.”

“I’m not,” he answered lightly, “just taking what I can get.”

“Elliot.”

“Coming!” Elliot cinched her coat up more snug, closer to her throat and where the scar lay expertly over her sternum, and snagged the keys off of the counter to the beat-up Honda Civic John had lifted from Eden’s Gate. Right. He couldn’t wait to hear Scarlet’s input on that car ride.

The redhead made it down two steps before she paused, turning and looking at John and going, “Um, bye,” in a tone that was more sheepish than he anticipated; it was almost shy, and it caught him so off-guard that he didn’t even get the chance to muster a response before she was making her way across the snowy driveway.

“Drive safe,” John called, once he’d gathered his senses a bit more. Elliot glanced at him over her shoulder and then ducked into the car, closing the door and beginning to pull her way down the drive. He waited until they’d turned onto the freshly plowed road before he turned back into the house and closed the front door behind him.

Boomer had seated himself in front of the window, letting out a little whine as his tail swept along the floor.

“C’mon, furry sentinel,” he sighed, not risking putting his hand within biting reach. “Just you and me today.”

The Heeler whined again, apparently thoroughly displeased at this news, and stayed rooted at the window to watch for his girl to come home.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he hit the redial button on the number they’d gotten a call from that morning and waited as the phone rang, pacing around the polished living room. It rang enough times as he idly adjusted glasses on a bar cart that he thought for certain no one would pick up—and then the phone clicked, and a warm voice came through.

“Hi, John.”

He blinked in surprise. “Hello, Faith. How’d you get this phone?”

“Isolde passed it to me when she saw your call. She wanted me to tell you that she’s too busy to talk to you.”

A wry smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Sounds like everything’s operating as normal, then.”

“I suppose.” Faith paused. “Are you coming home soon?”

“I am.”

“With Elliot?”

“Yes, she—” John cleared his throat and made an effort to sound as unbothered as possible. “She’s very concerned about Deputy Pratt’s well-being.”

“We’re taking good care of him. Will you tell her that? Better than he’d be getting out there, anyway,” and she said the word out there with such a surprising amount of venom that John realized he’d nearly forgotten about the Family’s reappearance. Well, there couldn’t be that many of them left, could there?

And then Faith said, “A lot of us are dead, John.”

His hand went to the mantle for a little support as he leaned against it. There was a bit of a bite to Faith’s voice—almost accusatory. A lot of us are dead, she said, as he stood in the plush home of his mother-in-law while they went dress shopping for a Christmas party. It occurred to him that none of his siblings—nor Isolde—were aware of what they’d been dealing with the last couple of days; they must have felt like he was getting off easy.

“The Father says we only have a little while longer,” she continued, “and that if we can’t fix this in time, we won’t wait for you. He’s been alone, a lot. Talking to God. Praying for more time, for you.”

The words made his stomach wrench, a little. He would have felt worse if he didn’t know already that there was an exit plan in place, one that Elliot was already on board for. “We’re only here for another day, and then we’re leaving” John replied. “The sheriff mentioned some—Federal agents. I don’t want to rouse suspicion and bring them down on us again.”

“Do you think it’s Burke?”

“Maybe.” He pressed his forehead against the stone mantle. “Probably. No one’s come storming in yet.”

“I hope it’s him. I hope he follows you all the way back here.” And then, darker: “He has a lot to apologize for.”

John made a low noise of agreement. It felt good to have a conversation with someone who seemed to be on the same side as him, for once—no bickering with Scarlet, no bickering with Elliot, and no bickering with Isolde. As of late, it seemed he was only capable of incurring arguments; though that did seem to be changing quickly with his wife.

“We’re having a service soon. Did you want me to tell Joseph anything?”

“Ah, no, that’s alright. I just wanted to let you know we had a plan.”

“Do you want to talk to him?”

“No,” John said again, more quickly and with a bout of unease sprinting up his spine. “No, that’s alright. I’ll let you go. We’ll be home soon, okay?”

“Alright.” Faith’s voice lightened when she added, “Tell Elliot I said hello.”

Bad idea, he thought, but said, “Of course,” and hit the end call button. It wasn’t until his entire body relaxed that he realized he’d been fully tensed, waiting for some kind of verbal blow—and though there had been a few, he felt...

Fine.

I feel fine.

It was fine. Everything was fine. Joseph was praying for more time for them. They’d make it back without a hitch. And then, when the world ended, and took the remainder of the Family with them—

Well, that would be all the better.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“My children.”

The heaters rattled, clicking in the lukewarm air in a steady, mechanical heartbeat. Candles lit throughout the chapel drenched the members of Eden’s Gate in a strange, golden glow, and as Joseph’s voice carried all the way to the back where Staci sat between Jacob and Arden. He could see in the front row sat Faith and the dark-haired woman—who he’d come to understand was Isolde Khan, John’s old business partner—and there was a moment where Joseph’s eyes fixed on her before they lifted back to the congregation.

“God has truly been testing us,” the man continued, pacing away from the altar the front, hands folded behind him. “As you know, I have spent a lot of time in silence and solitude so that I might be the most open to receiving from Him. For the longest time, I thought—had we done something wrong? Had I led us astray? Were we being punished?”

An uneasy murmur rippled throughout the crowd. In the front, Pratt could see Isolde writing something down in a notebook; he wished he was closer, so he could see what it was—what was so interesting that she was taking notes now, of all times? What could she possibly be doing?

Preparing for the worst-case scenario, he thought idly, shifting in his seat. Jacob’s eyes cut over to him and he cleared his throat. The shower had done nothing to ease his nerves.

“But I’ll tell you—devout, and loyal, we have not been left to the wayside.” Joseph stopped, pressing a hand onto a woman’s shoulder, squeezing. “I have heard His voice. I have received His word. We are not only followers of God’s word—we are His soldiers.”

The noise that passed through the congregation this time was brighter, agreements—it must have felt good. Not just passive sheep, to be shepherded; soldiers. Capable of violence. And they were.

“We are His warriors.”

The woman Joseph’s hand was on was getting teary-eyed, and when he departed from her to sidle his way down the aisle, she all but collapsed in on herself, folding in half to bury her face in her hands. Another attestation of acknowledgment rippled around him, louder.

“This world is a wretched, vile machine, taking in and spitting out sin, flooding our garden with locusts,” the Prophet continued, his voice lifting in volume. “We are, my children, the only people who have the great fortune of seeing this—of knowing what no one else in the world seems capable of understanding. God has told me—”

Sick, Pratt thought dizzily, I’m going to be sick.

“—that a life of bliss awaits us, if we can only...”

Joseph paused, as though he needed to look for the words, as though he hadn’t been reciting this all day in preparation for the sermon; Pratt knew that he must, the assured cadence of his voice coming so firmly that there was no way it wasn’t rehearsed.

“...look past the dread, and the fear,” he continued earnestly, allowing his hand to be taken by another member, “because fear is the language of the Devil—if we can look past it, and dedicate ourselves fully to His cause, there is only happiness and serenity waiting for us on the other side of this.”

“How do we do it, Father?” a man to the other side of Jacob cried out, his voice a panicked fever-pitch. “How do we show Him we’re devoted?”

Joseph’s head turned. His gaze landed on Pratt, lingering before lifting to the congregant. “We’ve got to stop the machine.”

Optimism flooded the crowd. An easy solution. Stop the machine, like it was nothing. Like they weren’t dealing with a group of people who killed as easily as they did.

“Throw your bodies upon the gears, upon the wheels, upon all the apparatus,” Joseph intoned dutifully, pacing back toward the front. “Whatever it takes to bring the machine to a grinding halt. We can no longer passively take part in the End—we are warriors of God, and our divine right is not instinctively endowed. It is earned. And we will show that we have earned it by exterminating these interlopers invading our garden.”

Pratt’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Eden’s Gate members came to a stand around him; loomed in his vision; eclipsed what little murky light reached him. Cheers and applause rolling around in his head. He thought for sure he’d heard this all somewhere, before—

Oh, yes. And you've got to indicate to the people who run it, to the people who own it, that unless you're free, the machine will be prevented from working at all! The irony of Joseph lifting lines from an activist’s speech was not lost on him.

A heavy hand gripped the collar of his shirt, hauling him to his feet. “Stand up,” Jacob muttered. “Good posture’s important.”

He steadied himself on the pew ahead of him. Amidst the chatter of the congregation, eventually quieted down by Joseph’s patience at the front of the chapel, he could hear renewed excitement. More life had been breathed into the peggies than he’d seen in a long time—well, considering that he’d only been here roughly a day, and the whole place felt like a ghost town even now, that was saying something.

“Please,” Joseph called lightly, “join me in prayer.”

Heads bowed. Pratt let his chin drop to his chest, but his eyes didn’t close; his gaze darted to his right, where Arden stood, hands clasped politely in front of her. Her head did not bow for prayer.

He was only vaguely aware of the words coming out of Joseph’s mouth, redirecting his eyes back to the floorboards beneath his worn shoes. Lord, we pray that you might show us guidance and wisdom in these uncertain times; show us how to be most like you, for only you are perfect...

Elliot was going to come back to this. She was going to come back to this, and he was going to have to figure out how to get her out of here without any of the Seeds noticing. Helmi had said, meet me out back, by the river, in three nights, but he couldn’t keep track. Had it been one night? Two? Less than one?

“I am your Father,” Joseph was saying. “You are my Children. Together, and only together, will we march through the Gates of Eden.”

A rousing amen echoed around him. They milled about, chatting excitedly—perhaps delighted to have a focus for their ire, for their agitation. The members of Eden’s Gate looked worse than Pratt remembered. Dirtier. Thinner. More exhausted. He thought that it must be nice to have a purpose—

Fuck me, not that shit again.

He filed out of the row behind Arden, and with Jacob behind him, following her to the front where Isolde and Joseph stood. They were speaking in low tones, bundled close together; she tapped her ten against the front of her notepad in what looked like an agitated tick, but he couldn’t hear what it was she was saying. By the time they were close that he might have heard, Joseph lifted his head from where he’d bent a little to speak closely and looked at him, smiling.

“It was nice to see your face in the crowd this day, Deputy Pratt,” he said, his voice warm. “Did you enjoy the sermon?”

Pratt opened his mouth, and then closed it. He didn’t want to play this game.

“Go on, Peaches,” Jacob prompted, clapping his shoulder.

The nickname sparked something angry inside of him, like dragging a match against the sandpaper side of the box. If there’s anything wrong with you, I’m going to kill them, Elliot had said.

Pratt turned his gaze to Joseph. “I thought the Mario Savio part was a bit much.”

A surprised, abrupt laugh barked out of Jacob. Joseph’s expression remained flat and serene. In fact, the only person who seemed to have any negative opinion about his words was Isolde, narrowing her eyes as she turned to look at him fully.

“We’re not exactly looking to hit notes with the intellectuals in the crowd, Deputy Pratt,” she informed him coolly. “They don’t care who said it first. They care who said it better.”

“Y—” Pratt swallowed. “Okay, well—”

“‘Okay, well’ shut the fuck up,” she snapped. “Or I’ll have Jacob take you out back and put you down like Old Yeller.”

“You can’t,” he protested quickly, “Elliot said—”

“Do you think I care in the least what some woman five states away said?” Isolde cut over him quickly, the elegant, soft roll of her accent a strange and unsettling juxtaposition to her words. “I’m getting this ship in fit fucking order, and that means I don’t need you inspiring dissent. Anyone with an opinion that is less than glowing, radiant, gorgeous—they get taken care of, whatever that means. Got it?”

Pratt closed his mouth tightly, until the pressure was beginning to build between his molars. I just have to make it until Elliot gets here, and then—and then I’ll—then I can get—

He took in a little breath. “Yes.”

“Peachy.” Isolde flashed a smile that was all-too-saccharine, and then turned to Joseph. “Let’s sit.”

“Of course.”

They departed to a pew just to the left of them. Jacob was grinning at him, wolfish.

“Thought about telling you she wrote it,” he said, “but that was much more entertaining.”

“You look pale, Staci,” added Arden, her voice light as it redirected from Jacob’s apparent joy at his suffering. “Maybe you should go lay down. I don’t want you straining any of those injuries.”

Okay, he thought, and maybe the words came out of him but he couldn’t tell; he couldn’t tell anymore, but he did want to go lay down. Lay down, and close his eyes, and sleep until Elliot got back.

He’d never been happier at the prospect of seeing an ex-girlfriend.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When they arrived at the boutique, Sylvia was standing outside, bouncing on the balls of her feet in what Elliot could only assume was an attempt to get warm. It was difficult, to focus on something as inane and arbitrary as dress shopping when she knew that Pratt was back in Hope County, dealing with God-knew-what the Seeds were throwing at him.

Well, the Seeds. And more. The Family, who were supposed to be dead, and—

I hear stress is bad for the baby. A familiar accent, wasn’t it?

“Well, are you just gonna sit in there all day or what?” her mother asked, having stepped out of the passenger side.

“Did you invite Sylvia?”

Scarlet sighed. “I thought it might be nice, for you.”

It was an unexpectedly sincere gesture on her mother’s part. She swallowed a thick emotion down, clearing her throat and managing out, “It—is, mama, thank you,” before she got out of the car and took the keys with her, heading towards the front doors of the main street store.

“Howdy, Freckles!” Sylvia greeted her warmly, throwing her arms around her in a tight hug. “Been a few. Wyatt’s still got your Jeep, he’s been runnin’ it a few minutes a day to make sure the battery doesn’t go bad.” She smiled brightly, turning to Elliot’s mother. “Mrs. Honeysett, you look mighty lovely.”

“Thank you, dear.”

Sylvia tugged the door to the boutique open, ushering them inside so that she could trail in after. The inside of the store was toasty warm, making Elliot regret having worn a scarf, but it was too late now—the coat and scarf combination were doing the work to keep her scar covered.

“I just love this place,” Scarlet sighed, shrugging out of her coat and hanging it on the rack by the door. “What do you think, Elliot? Maybe something blue. I’d put you in green, but with that red hair, you’d look like a Christmas ornament. Blue’s a nice winter color—very fashionable.”

“Sure, mama,” Elliot replied, brushing her fingers along the silk of one of the dresses. The last time she’d been in anything that blue and nice had been back in Hope County. At her “baptism”. The same one Burke had been dragged to, the same one that John had held her under for just a little too long for, maybe distracted by the Marshal’s arrival back then.

“Psst.” The sound of Via’s voice caught her attention, pulling her from the waking memory. The blonde had pulled what appeared to be the most atrocious Christmas gown that could have been looked at off of the rack, holding it up and lifting her eyebrows as Scarlet chatted enthusiastically with the store’s saleswoman.

“Stop it,” Elliot said, fighting back a smile. “You’re not serious.”

“Oh, dead serious, Freckles.”

“It has mistletoe on it, Via.”

“How else am I supposed to fetch a husband, if not by readily-accessible entrapment?”

Well, she thought a little dryly, that is how John got a wife.

It was odd, to think of the moment with anything less than hostility—to have come to a point where there were things more pressing than a marriage that, in the end, might not matter anyway. John had said that he knew the baby didn’t mean she’d take him back; had acknowledged there was no guarantee. For once, he’d shown up in her life with every intention laid bare for her to see.

Maybe not every intention. But she’d root them all out, eventually, and pretend like it hadn’t become something of a game, to catch John in a lie and watch him squirm.

She let the boutique’s owner show her around, clearly making quite a show for her mother, and politely turned down any suggestions for a deep v or off-the-shoulder type of garment. Sylvia had picked out a few; most blue, some blush, a few red, and then loaded some into Elliot’s arms.

“Try ‘em on!” she chirped. “Yes, even the green ones. Maybe your mama doesn’t want an Elliot Christmas ornament, but I do.”

Elliot heaved a sigh, though it was only half-sincere—anything delivered with Sylvia’s bright, cheery smile, she was hard-pressed to feel anything less than good about. Maybe that was dangerous, to be so comfortable with someone.

Or maybe, she thought, closing the dressing room door behind her, that’s just how having friends are. You remember what that was like.

She did. As she undressed and zipped the back of one of the red dresses Sylvia had selected—thoughtfully aware of the fact that she’d want most of her chest covered—she regarded herself in the mirror. There was that stranger again, flushed cheeks and bright eyes staring back at her. A familiar nose shape, a familiar slope of her cheekbones—but the rest of her. Where had she gone?

With one hand she pushed the door open, the other one lifting the back train of the dress as little as she walked out. A grimace had planted itself on her face, even despite Sylvia’s elaborate applause at her appearance.

“Oh, bunny, you look darling,” her mother sighed, having turned to take a look. “What’s the matter? You don’t like it?”

“Not big on the sparkles,” she admitted.

“I like them. You’ve always looked good in red, though. That fair complexion of your father’s.”

Sylvia grinned. “Try on a green one. I wanna imagine how you’ll look on my tree!”

Elliot stuck her tongue out at the blonde, turning around and scurrying back into the changing room. There were a few more dresses—even a green one—that were in the running, but eventually, she’d settled on a floor-length piece, dark blue velvet and halter-topped to get the most sternum coverage. When she’d redressed and rejoined the group outside, her mother was beaming as she gossiped with the boutique owner.

“Elliot’s quite modest,” her mother said conversationally, “and she’s already married, you know.”

“Thank you, mother,” Elliot sighed, a little smile fighting its way onto her face.

“Whatever are you still wearing your coat for? Your face is all red.”

“I’m—” She paused, swallowing. “Still cold.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Cold? It’s eighty degrees in here. And your face is all red.”

Sylvia had glanced up from across the store, neck-deep in dresses of a warmer shade. Elliot could feel the eyes on her—her friend, her mother, the boutique owner—and she cleared her throat and tugged absently at the tag on the dress.

“It’s fine,” she said after a minute.

“Well, at least take your scarf off.”

“I think it’s a lovely scarf,” the owner tried, a little helplessly.

“Mother, it’s—I’m fine—”

But her mother moved too quickly for her to realize what was happening; her mother’s hand unwound the scarf with expert ease, and then froze, her eyes fixed on what Elliot thought assuredly was the little of her WRATH scar, revealed.

Her stomach rolled. Heat flooded her body, worse than before—it was the kind of sticky-wet heat that came with the threat of throwing up, the kind that crept up the spine and gripped by the nape of the neck. Elliot felt her lashes flutter; she dropped the dress abruptly and yanked the scarf out of her mother’s hands to wind it securely around her neck again. The boutique owner had quickly turned to the clothing rack, as though something very emergent had occurred on the inanimate objects.

Stupid. She was so stupid. She should have just worn a sweater. She shouldn’t have looked at her scar that morning and thought, maybe it is something to love, she shouldn’t have ever risked the chance that her mother would see it, stupidstupidstupid—

“My God,” Scarlet said tightly, the tone of her voice washing Elliot with shame. “What did you do?”

I’m sorry, she wanted to say, automatically. Mama, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m not good anymore, I’m not—

“Phew, I sure am dressed-out,” Sylvia announced, having come over. “I’ll have to go home and weigh my options. Ell, you wanna head outside for some air?”

“I think that’s best,” her mother replied curtly, before Elliot could even think to formulate a sentence. “I’ll finish up in here.”

She thought about trying to say something—trying to explain, maybe, what it was that had happened. But how could she? Her mother had suffered through the years she’d inflicted pain on herself, after daddy and after Mason, and she had told her mother she was better, now. Healed. Good. What could she say, to make it alright?

Because there was no world where she could say, I didn’t want it, and mean it.

Via’s hand fit snugly in hers, tugging her lightly out through the front door of the boutique onto the street. It wasn’t until she took in a lungful of cold, dry air that she realized she’d been holding her breath; her lungs ached, her head swimming, and she was gripping Via’s hand too tightly.

“Hey,” Sylvia said softly, “s’okay.”

It’s not, she thought miserably, it’s not okay, I’m not okay, I want to go—

Where? Where could she go?

I want—

Nowhere? Anywhere?

—to go—

“Home,” she managed out unsteadily, “I should go home—”

Sylvia gave her hand a squeeze. “You want I should give your mama a ride back to the house?”

“Yes.” She swallowed, sniffing. “Yes, please.”

“Okay, Freckles. Sure. You just—maybe you just take a little drive for yourself, collect your thoughts.” Via paused, and then leaned a little to catch Elliot’s eyes; though her vision blurred from the threat of tears, the blonde still smiled a little. “You gonna be okay all by yourself?”

It was a strange question to ask, but Elliot knew what she meant. Are you safe? Alone?

“Yeah,” Ell replied in a thick, watery mumble. “I am.”

“Okay. Can you give me a call when you get home?”

She nodded weakly. Via pulled her into a hug, tight and gentle all at once, enough to make the dam break; just for a little, just for a minute, the tears streaked down her cheeks and caught up in the fabric of the scarf where it wadded against her jaw.

My God, what did you do?

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, pulling back and sucking in a sharp little breath. “Um, I’m really—s-sorry—”

But Via shook her head firmly and brushed some of the hair back from Elliot’s face, wet from her tears. “Don’t apologize. Go get a little breather.”

She fished the keys out of Elliot’s pocket for her, putting them in her hand and hesitating.

“Promise you’ll call,” she reiterated.

Elliot nodded. “I—I promise.”

“Okay. No take-backs.”

“No take-backs.”

Via gave her another hug before ushering her towards the car. As she climbed in and turned the key, her hands shaking, she thought about the way her mother had looked at the scar—with disgust. Horror. Shame. Via hadn’t looked at her like that, when she’d seen it. She’d seemed embarrassed, at having put Elliot in such a position; but not like that. She hadn’t looked horrified.

John didn’t look at it like that. He’d spent a lot of time last night, tracing the shape of the scar with his eyes, with his mouth, reverent and adoring. Makes you hungry, doesn’t it?

At least leaving would be that much easier.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They came back separately.

When John heard the front door open, he’d been starting a pot of coffee in the kitchen. He poked his head around the archway to look out in the foyer, only to find Scarlet standing there, furiously unbuttoning her coat and dropping her gloves into the drawer. Two dress bags hung on the coat rack.

“Ell outside?” he asked casually, coming around.

“Certainly not,” Scarlet replied tartly. “She’s—”

And then the woman let out a sigh, closing her eyes for a moment—for the first time, Scarlet Honeysett looked to be composing herself, which he thought she was nearly incapable of losing sight of. It seemed even the impenetrable armor of the Honeysett matriarch had its own weaknesses after all.

His tiny little thrill at the sight of Scarlet looking troubled was short-lived, however, because she said, “My daughter walked into the boutique sporting this—wretched scar—”

Oh, he thought, suddenly.

“—never been so humiliated in my whole life—”

Oh, no, because he knew exactly what she was talking about and Elliot would be—

“—have no doubt, Mr. Seed,” Scarlet bit out viciously, “that scar is new and you have certainly not influenced her away from such activities.”

He needed to find Elliot. She would be distraught; why hadn’t she come home with her mother? And why wasn’t Scarlet more pressed concerning her daughter’s well-being?

“And where is she?” John asked, ignoring the stinging anger bubbling in his chest. Wretched scar, she’d said. Like it wasn’t beautiful. Like it wasn’t gorgeous. Like he hadn’t spent a whole night looking at it, running his hands and mouth over it, knowing that Elliot had looked at him and wanted it and trusted him and if there was something more devoted, it was carrying someone’s child. “Elliot? Where is she?”

“Taking a moment to regain her senses,” the blonde replied sharply. “She has vowed to be home soon. Mr. Seed—”

He had gone to reach for his coat, pausing at her words and looking at her expectantly.

Scarlet twisted the gloves in her hands for a moment, her brows pulling together.

“I just think,” she finally said, “that as her husband, you are responsible for her as much as I am. You have to be taking care of her when I’m not around.”

“I do,” he replied.

“Evidence says contrary,” Scarlet snapped. “She has come back to me with more—damage—”

The sound of a car pulling up outside snapped John’s attention elsewhere. He knew that if he stayed much longer in the conversation, they would be leaving sooner than what they had planned, if only because Scarlet wouldn’t tolerate him in the house for the things that he wanted to say to her. Damage, he wanted to say, that is only as bad as it is because it’s compounding on your incessant need to brush aside her problems like they’re nothing, like she didn’t need help then.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, pulling his coat on and opening the door. The rush of cold air bit at his face and hands; Boomer came rushing out around his legs, springing down the steps and hurrying to the driver’s side of the Honda. John was only vaguely aware of the door closing behind him—and it didn’t matter, anyway.

She didn’t open the door when Boomer got there, scrabbling at it for her eagerly. She kept her hands on the top of the steering wheel and pressed her forehead into it, the engine ticking as it cooled. When John got there, he reached for the door handle to tug it open. Elliot hit the lock button.

“Ell,” John said, “open the door.”

She lifted her head tiredly from the steering wheel. Where her hand sat over the lock button, her fingers trembled a little, and her face was flushed—not with health, but with the sickly red of feverish, panicked crying.

“Baby,” he tried again, a little more urgently, putting his hand on the glass of the window, “Boomer wants to see you.”

Elliot’s eyes were fixed on his jacket. “Would you—” She stopped, her voice muffled by the glass, and then she took a deep breath and said, “Would you even be here if I wasn’t pregnant?”

“What?” John blinked at her.

“If I didn’t have the baby,” she tried again, her voice thick and watery with unshed tears, that pouty lower lip trembling, “would you have even come for me?”

He stared at her. It had never occurred to him, that there might be a world in her head where he didn’t come for her, where he didn’t find her, where he didn’t try and bring her back.

“Of course I would,” John said, drawing her eyes to him. “I love you, Elliot.” And then, more urgently: “I love you, with or without the baby.”

She looked away from him, then, staring out the other side of the window, fingers curling uselessly against the steering wheel even as the keys lay in the passenger seat—like she wanted to run. Like she wanted to floor it, and go somewhere, anywhere.

“Open the door, Ell.” He swallowed thickly. “Won’t you?”

The door lock clicked. He tugged at the handle and it opened with ease, Boomer instantly shoving his face into Elliot’s side and whining, tail wagging so furiously his whole body moved with it. John pushed the door open the rest of the way and reached for her, and her hand caught his wrist and pulled, and she buried her face into his chest and trembled like a leaf in a breeze.

“I’m so tired,” she moaned miserably into his chest, hiccupping with grief, “I want to go home.”

John wrapped his arms around her, one hand cradling the back of her head and keeping her tugged close.

“I know,” he said. “We’ll go. We will, I promise, Ell, okay?”

“Please—” The redhead pulled back to look at him. “I can’t—you can’t—lie to me, anymore—”

“I know,” John said again, a little helplessly, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone. She was clutching him so tightly he was sure her nails would leave marks on his skin, even through the fabric of his clothes.

“I won’t.”

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Watch

a/n: I 1000000% know that unless you’ve read my fic The Dragon Kings Treasure, this is going to be TOTALLY out of context and you will likely have literally no idea about what’s going on or their history. I’ll be posting this little snippet in my AO3 post at the end of the story if you feel like you’d rather read the full thing first before you read this. There’s some spoilers in this, so if you’ve been planning on reading TDKT and haven’t yet, I’d suggest doing that first for context

Main Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Koge Naegi (OC) (Fantasy AU)

Story Rating: Explicit

Genre: Fluff / Romance / Domestic / Fantasy AU

Story Warnings: Sex (vaginal), hand job, inhuman extremities (yes, dick) and mutations (dragon), size difference, rough sex, dirty talk, name calling, breeding (sorta), stomach bulge, Bakugou’s insecure, Koge’s horny

Words: 5,110

Written for the @bnhabookclub​​ ‘s members bingo event!

Crossed off: Mirror Sex

Bingo Masterlist

Art in banner by me

“I am actually going to kill you, Koge.” 

“Just do it gently, okay?” 

Bakugou grumbled at the completely unbothered response from his lover, glowering at her through a mirror. Laying on his stomach, sprawled out on their bed, the young Lord found himself beyond agitated with himself and with his wife, but not for any regular old reason. No, the problem was something that no one could have ever predicted, and it was something that couldn’t be stopped, either. Reversing the process was also out of the question, so he was condemned to adjust himself to the changes of his body, both internal and external. But, compliance didn’t correlate to happiness in this situation, especially not when paired with the pain and frustrations that came with the changes. 

It didn’t help that his wife was more that ecstatic about his newfound dragon extremities. The thick, dark red tail that protruded from the base of his hips and horns perched atop his head were the current bane of his existence, as the past few months of them growing into place were like putting him through daily torture. The changes to his hands and the horns, he had gotten used to long ago, but the currently swaying scaled appendage that protruded from his hips had been the most difficult to accept. It was large and cumbersome, always knocking things over, hitting people, or even causing him to trip over his own feet. Even now, as it knocked annoyingly against his own legs, he wished that he could just cut the damn thing off. Why did it even have to grow in the first place? 

Well, he knew why. 

His wife. The absolute love of his life and mother to his son, the woman he had chosen to be always by his side and Queen of his land. She was the reason this had happened to him, or, at least, a large percentage of it. The rest was his own bloodline, his family and heritage, but this wasn’t exactly something he had expected to happen. His wife, being a dragon halfling, had always sported her dragon features when in her human form, and had the presence, scents, and mannerisms of one at all times. Sure, she could fit in with humans, outside of her inability to register their words if they weren’t dragonborn of some kind, but in the end, she was a dragon. That fact is what prompted these changes in him that he couldn’t control. 

It all went back to his bloodline. His family had always had dragon blood, but the last that had dragon features, that he could remember, was his great grandfather. Since then, each royal child born didn’t have physical dragon features, nor could they change into a dragon. All they had was the magic. Until now. Just being with his wife had prompted a change within him, starting out small at first with the ability to purr and his senses more enhanced than they had already been. Then came the changes to his hands, red scales coating the top and down along his wrist and half of his forearm, with thicker skin along his palms and long claws. This change was quick, only a few days of inability to use his hands or take care of the horrible itch that came with it on his own, though Koge was more than willing to help him with that. In truth, Bakugou didn’t think he could have gotten through any of the changes without her help. She knew how to soothe the pain of his horns growing in and massaged his back and tail as it grew over many weeks. 

Now, there was no pain. All that was left was to adjust. New clothes, new sleeping positions, new feelings beneath the now sensitive skin of his fingers and palms. The new smells, sounds, and urges, they all required a huge adjustment, but the tail. The tail was the worst of them all. 

“Why a fucking tail?” Bakugou whined into the sheets, turning his face into the soft plush fabric to keep his glare off the swaying appendage. “The horns are fine. The hands suck. But a fucking tail?! Koge, I hate it.”

“It did grow in quite big in the end, but it’s really pretty-” 

“-Don’t call it pretty-!”

“-And handsome. Rugged. Who knew you had such strong dragon blood that it would come out looking like this!” Scooting her petite body closer, Koge’s fingers traced lightly down his spine, purring sweetly when she breached the hump of his tail. “I love it. I can’t wait until you get more control over it so I can cuddle in it.” 

“Tch, and what the fuck is wrong with my arms, huh?!” 

“You can’t tell, Katsuki, but your tail is way warmer than your arms.” 

In agitation of her argument, his tail swished about roughly, making Koge giggle softly as pillows were knocked from the bed. To avoid getting hit, Koge flopped down to lay up against his side, wiggling and nudging herself beneath his arm until he was forced onto his side, hugging her to him tightly in an attempted punishment. Nuzzling his face into her hair, he felt instantly calmed by the sweet sounds of her purr, which radiated through his mind like a million bees, making his heart and stomach flutter. Then, within no time, his own deep rumbling began, his purr completely swallowing hers in intensity. 

“Ooh see, you can’t be that mad if you start purring so easily.” Koge nuzzled her face up against his neck, her tail falling to rest over his legs, intertwining with his as he calmed. Holding her body in closer, Bakugou scoffed quietly, lifting his head so he could see her face. 

“You use that against me. Because I can’t help it.” 

“Why can’t you help it?” Koge nuzzled her nose against his tenderly, smiling at the sight of his reptilian pupils dilating in pleasurable response to her affections. “You can’t hide your mushy feelings from me, now. Of course I might take advantage of that sometimes.” 

“I can’t help it for obvious fucking reasons.” Bakugou’s snarl and growl of his voice didn’t match his touch or change in the pitch of his purr, spurred on by Koge letting her leg rest over his hips so she could be closer to him. “I love your stupid ass, of course I’m going to start up if you do.” 

“It’s so cute!” She placed a soft kiss on his lips, though found herself trapped for more than just a few moments as he refused to let her pull away, his hand even slipping up her back to rest against the back of her head. “Mm… I didn’t expect your dragon blood to make you so… affectionate.” 

“The fuck does that mean?” With a growl against her lips, Bakugou rolled them over so she was beneath him, taking both of her arms to pin them up above her head, fingers lacing with hers tenderly. “I’m not any more affectionate than I was, dumbass.” Squeezing his hips playfully with her knees, Koge’s smile grew sly. 

“I just expected you to become more aggressive and territorial. But instead you’re super sweet, purring, and cuddly. Just like a little pup.” 

“Excuse me?!” Bakugou’s purr was cut short with his rush of agitation, his voice booming through their large chambers as Koge laughed. “I’m not a fucking whelp! You take that back!” 

“What are you gonna do about it, pup?” Koge couldn’t resist a grin at the flushing of his cheeks, baring her fangs to him playfully. “Gonna whine and spew a little fire out of your nose? Or are you gonna put me in my place?” 

With a frustrated growl, Bakugou could only glare down at her for a moment before pulling away, sitting up turning to sit on the edge of the bed, once again facing the mirror. “Oh fuck off! You know I can’t!” 

Frowning as guilt began to creep up on her, Koge sat up as well, placing her hand gingerly on his back. “Ah Katsuki, I’m sorry. I… I’ve just been feeling a little frisky lately, especially since that… new change happened. I’m… It’s a bit hard for me to control myself.” 

“Tch… It’s fine.” Bakugou’s glare was once again locked on his own reflection, though the center of his focus was his hips. There was another change to his body, one that he had been doing everything he could to hide from her until recently and had continually hoped that it would just vanish. It happened at the worst time, too, as Koge had just gotten to where she was comfortable making love to him again after further recovering from her trauma as a slave. They had almost gotten back to normal, and then his bloodline had to make the biggest dick move ever. Quite literally, in fact. 

His manhood had changed to further match his outward extremities. It wasn’t all that extreme, but it was enough to not only make him horrifically self-conscious about it, but fear that he would never properly have sex again. It had grown, in length and girth, with mostly human characteristics, outside of scales at the base that wrapped back around his hips to his tail, a series of ridges along the sides, and a more angled tip. The foreskin he had always sported did little to hide the changes, even when completely flaccid, though hiding it at all was impossible at this point. 

With heightened senses and urges, Bakugou found himself craving Koge’s attention, affection, and body more frequently than he had before. They had gotten used to it when his dick was normal, but for a few weeks, now, he had to suffer through the urges without being able to satisfy himself in any way. At first, he came up with excuses as to why he didn’t want to or couldn’t, mostly concerning the pain of his tail - which wasn’t completely a lie - just so that he could avoid the situation all together. But much to his dismay, Koge was quite clever, and she picked up on his odd behavior quickly. 

“Your dick changed, didn’t it?” She had cornered him one morning when she had tried to come onto him right before he got into the bath. “Let me see it!” 

He had let her, of course, but that only made things worse for him. She wasn’t put off by the changes in the slightest, nor was she concerned that it would be an issue. But he was, and he couldn’t quite get the fear out of his head. Of course, he knew that he would have to come to terms with it eventually and try to do something with this change, even if that jump was going to be difficult. Each time Koge offered to work with him or try anything, he’d back out, leaving him with a very painful experience of having to let his raging boner settle on its own. He couldn’t quite find it within himself to masturbate to get rid of the buildup or his urges, as even the feeling and pleasures were different and way more intense than what he was used to. Out of everything, his dick was the last thing he expected to change, and it had oddly taken the biggest mental toll on him. 

His erections were impossible to hide. Any touch that wasn’t his clothing or taking a piss felt like white hot lightning sparking through his body. Sitting or laying were made even more awkward when paired with his tail. He couldn’t properly make love to his wife. He couldn’t pleasure himself. He had to learn how to not walk awkwardly. Any clothes that could accommodate his tail still couldn’t handle his new manhood. 

He was different from head to toe, and that bothered him more than he was willing to say out loud. In the end, he didn’t need to say anything. Koge could see it all, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating for her, too. She wanted to help him adjust, more than anything, but it was impossible if he continually blocked himself off like this. Even now, he was trying to hide his obvious boner with his arms, and the discomfort on his expression was worrisome. He may be too reluctant to do something about it himself, but Koge knew that eventually, she’d have to show him that it was okay. By ‘eventually’, she knew that it would have to be now, while the subject was brought to the front and they had no chance of being interrupted. 

“Katsuki,” Koge purred near his ear softly, resting her body against his back while her arms came to rest over his broad shoulders. “Let me try-” 

“-Koge-” 

“- Just a little. You can’t keep going like this. We can’t keep going like this. Sooner or later, you have to let me face the dragon dick. If you just let me try, you’ll see that it’ll be okay.” 

Bakugou glowered at his lover out of the corner of his eye, still hunched over his own body in reluctance and worry. “You haven’t seen it erect yet, Koge. It’s… You can’t take it.” 

“You underestimate me a little, I think.” Koge nuzzled her nose against his cheek, giving him a firm kiss on the flushed skin. “I’m not human, remember? And your body is reacting to me. I’ll show you that I can take it just fine. Please?” 

“I’ll feel like shit if it doesn’t work out…” 

“Or you’ll continue to feel like shit if you never try. Right?” 

“Tch… You’re right.” 

Scooting off the bed, Koge stood in front of him, holding both of her hands out towards him. “Well? Let me help you, Katsuki. I promise it will feel good for both of us.” Although he wanted to take her hands immediately, Bakugou still hesitated, glancing over her body before catching her gentle gaze. Just looking at her like this, clad in nothing but a white sleeping gown, so flushed and unexpecting, had him immediately struggling not to snatch her off her feet and pin her onto the bed beneath him. The thought had his manhood straining, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to take this type of painful tension any longer. He needed to get past this, so he shifted himself to sit up, taking both of her hands tenderly in acceptance of her help. 

Smiling, Koge stepped in closer to stand between his legs, letting her hands slide up his arms with a slow and gentle touch that had goosebumps prickling along his skin. As she caressed the sides of his neck, his hands took hold of her petite hips, scooting himself closer to the edge of the bed to be able to pull her body flush against him. It was so incredibly difficult to hold himself back, the feeling of her body beneath his hands and the scent of her arousal completely overwhelming him, but the tender kisses she placed on his lips helped keep him grounded. Her purr soothed him, almost to the point that he felt as if he were floating, not noticing her hands slip down between their bodies until they sneaked beneath his pants to grip the source of his problems. 

At first, the hiss that escaped from between his teeth was from the chill of her hands, until her fingers traced along the prominent ridges, each little bump feeling as if she were stroking his tip. Or, what he remembered stimulation to his tip feeling like when he still had a normal dick. Then, the hiss grew into a deep growl, his entire body stiffening and his hands slipping around to grip her backside as she stroked him with both hands, up and down the aching shaft while avoiding the tip. “Mm, fuck- Yeah, tighter. That’s it-!” 

“My hands can’t even wrap around it all the way, Katsuki. And you’re dribbling so much cum already. It’s so warm.” Taking half a step back, Koge shifted his pants down out of the way to free him completely, keeping a little space between them so she could see her work. She wasn’t the only one watching, Bakugou’s eyes locked on the way her hands moved, displacing the slowly flowing precum with each firm stroke up and down his shaft. With the liquid acting as a lubricant, Koge was able to increase her speed, stroking all the way from the base to right before the tip. Before long, Bakugou’s entire body was trembling, his face shoved into her shoulder as he struggled to control his urges to pant and moan. 

“Stop teasing me, Koge!” 

“If I go there, you’ll cum really quick.” 

“Do it!” 

The growling demand made Koge bite her bottom lip, stroking from the base all the way back up to the tip, which immediately forced a trembling moan from his lips as he pulled her body back in closer. He was throbbing in her hands by now, each new stroke across his sensitive tip sending him further into an uncontrollable ecstasy. Within no time, what Koge had warned came to fruition, with Bakugou cumming after a few teasing strokes of her thumb around his tip. The petite woman didn’t expect it, of course, nor did she expect Bakugou to tug her body back up against him while rutting his hips forward so his cock stroked against the silk of her gown and soft form of her stomach. Within seconds, the front of the gown was drenched with his cum, the load much larger than either of them could have really expected. It stuck fast to Koge’s skin, hot and thick, coating her fingers and soaking through the thin fabric of her gown to dribble down her stomach. 

Panting as he came down from his high, Bakugou kept his face shoved into her shoulder, his entire body tingling with the weight of his release. “Fuck… That’s so much more than before…” 

“If you mean cum, then yeah, that’s a lot.” Koge moved back from him a bit, prompting Bakugou to sit up himself and observe the damage. One hand still lightly stroking up and down his still hard shaft, Koge brought the other to her lips, licking the cum from her fingers. “Mm, yummy. You even taste better, Katsuki.” 

“That’s a weird thing to notice.” Bakugou glowered up at his lover as she took another step back, first wiping her hands on her already ruined shift before pulling her arms inside and out through the neck opening. With it being so oversized, and with the added weight of the liquid that soaked it, it fell around her feet, leaving her bare. Just like nearly every time he saw her like this, Bakugou felt a lump grow in his throat, the glow of her pale skin in the dim light bringing on the urge to just touch and squeeze. Though, even as the chance presented itself to him with her crawling up onto his lap, he felt frozen, the nerves of still not being able to do this properly creeping back up on him. “Koge-” 

“Shh,” Holding onto his shoulders for support and facing him, Koge straddled his lap, knees firmly dug into the mattress. Not quite sitting down onto him yet, the halfling arched her backside out, turning her head a bit to look over her shoulder at the mirror behind them. “Look, Katsuki. See how wet you make me? How badly my body wants you?” 

Tearing his eyes off her collarbone area to look over her shoulder as well, the fire in Bakugou’s chest grew hotter from the view she presented to him, having to clench his teeth together to keep him from acting out. Dripping with her essence, Koge’s pussy was incredibly enticing, puffy, and pink with the need for the attention she had been denied all this time. Even still, she was so incredibly small compared to him, and her petite body just didn’t seem like it would be able to take him comfortably. “Koge… It won’t-” 

“It will,” Shifting her hips up, Koge let his cock rest between her legs, lowering herself down just enough to be able to grind against him. “I want your cock inside me so badly, Katsuki.” Cupping his cheeks, Koge kept her lips close to his, moaning softly with the stimulation to her clit. “Please let me. I’m begging you. Can’t you feel how hot my body is for you?” 

Gripping onto her hips tightly, Bakugou lightly dug his claws into her skin in frustration, which only prompted more vigorous efforts from his wife. Of course he wanted this. He wanted to fill her up to the brim and fuck her until she was an absolute mess. And he could. She wanted it. Then, with a teasing swipe of her cunt along his tip, she broke his restraint, and all he wanted was to be inside her. With a low growl, he reached up and took a fist full of her hair into his grip at the base of her head, firm enough to make her gasp and stop the rolling of her hips. 

“Fine.” Bakugou growled against her jawline, keeping her head firmly pulled back to keep her submissive and in place. “But you’d better be able to take it.” With that, his other hand guided her hips up and back, his tip slipping inside of her with ease. Immediately, a sharp gasp erupted from her throat, both of her hands moving back to clutch onto his shoulders while it took every ounce of Bakugou’s self-control not to slam her down all the way. Instead, he urged her down inch by inch, her chest heaving and body trembling as she took him in. By the time he was completely sheathed inside her, Koge was already nothing more than a panting mess, eyes rolled back, and nails dug into his skin. “Look at you. Fucking ruined already.” 

The sound of his voice helped pull her back, biting down onto her bottom lip when he released her hair and catching his gaze. “I-I can take it, though. See? I just… Mm, it feels so good, I can’t… I can’t move.” Koge looked back over her shoulder again to see them, her cheeks flushing bright red at how huge he looked stretching her out like this. 

Smirking, Bakugou pressed his lips against her temple, his eyes on their reflection as well. “Let me help you.” Finding that they were sufficiently lubricated, both from her and from his still present cum, Bakugou was easily able to pull her hips up and back down again, using his strength to make her bounce on his cock. The moans that escaped from her lips were like none he had heard before, the pure ecstasy drowning out all rational thought she may have had left. Within no time, she had taken over the rhythm, slamming her hips down onto him from tip to base with only the pleasure driving her forward. 

Resting back on his hands to keep them supported, Bakugou couldn’t get his eyes off their reflection, just seeing her body bounce and the way his cock vanished inside her hypnotizing him completely. She could take him, and the feeling of being one with her again like this was beyond what he would consider to be euphoria. Though, it was when she began to grind her hips that he nearly lost his control, tearing his eyes away from the mirror to look down at her. Leaning back with her hands supported on his knees, Koge rolled her hips with just as much effort as she had been before, though her eyes were locked on her stomach. 

“F-fuck-!” Overwhelmed with the pleasure, tears began to roll down her brightly flushed cheeks, though they were of little consequence. “Fuck! It’s so good! Your cock is so good! So deep inside me! You can…- ah! You can see it!” Sure enough, with each passing roll of her hips, a bulge was visible in her lower abdomen, instantly bringing a deep growl of satisfaction from Bakugou’s chest. 

“Yeah? You like seeing that while you fuck yourself on my cock, Koge?” One arm still behind him for support, his other hand came up to grip her hip, urging her to be more aggressive. “How I fill up that slutty fucking pussy?” 

“Yes!” Koge’s voice squeaked and trembled, struggling to keep up the momentum against the pleasure. “I love it!” 

“Well here, let me give you a better view.” Simultaneously standing up and scooping her body up off his cock, Bakugou made his way over to the mirror, turning her so that her back was pressed against his torso while supporting and spreading open her legs. Puzzled, Koge could only stare at their reflections, watching his cock twitch and her essence leak from her cunt that was aching for his return. With this view, she could truly see the size of him compared to her, making her feel suddenly so small and vulnerable, yet she wanted his cock back inside her more than anything in that moment. 

“K-Katsuki-!” 

“What, baby? You want it back inside you?” 

“Please!” Koge flexed her feet and toes impatiently, sniffling against her stuffed-up nose that came along with the tears. “Please, Katsuki! Put it back inside- a-ah!!” Clenching her eyes shut tightly, Koge leaned her head back against his shoulder at the feeling of his tip slipping back inside her, though her reaction was cut short by Bakugou’s deep and demanding growl in her ear. 

“Lift your head up and watch, you horny bitch. I want you to watch how my cock stretches out that tight little cunt.” 

Taking in trembling breaths, Koge weakly lifted her head, teary gaze locked back on their reflections. She watched as demanded, gasping and hiccupping as each inch vanished inside her, until he had filled her up to the base. In this position, the bulge in her lower abdomen was even more visible, though she didn’t have much time to take it all in before he started to thrust his hips up into her. A squeal escaped her parted lips with the first rough thrust, sending more pleasured tears cascading down her cheeks as he fucked her. With him in control, it felt like a completely different experience, her mind no longer having to focus on attempting to move. 

Now, all she had was him, fucking her relentlessly while she rested secure against his chest. The visual of them only made her hotter, able to see the way his cock ravaged her, his large hands supporting her legs, her breasts bouncing with the movement, and even his expression. That is what she loved to watch the most, how his expression was contorted with the pleasure and he was absolutely lost in it. Though, his eyes were on the reflection as well, and they eventually caught hers staring at his face. 

Bakugou felt himself immediately overwhelmed with the state of her ruined body, limp in his grip and completely drunk with pleasure. He wanted to destroy her more, to sink his teeth and claws into her silky flesh until she was marked head to toe by him. And yet, he wanted to hold and caress her, just to feel her tender touch along his burning skin. He wanted all of her and more. “What, Koge? Is it too much for you?”

“N-no-!”

“No?”

“No! I-I love it! I love it! Fuck-!” Koge leaned her head back, eyes rolling up as Bakugou adjusted the position to slam even harder into her. “Yes! I-I haven’t stopped cumming since you put it inside me-! I can’t think!”

“You’re such a good girl. You want my cum, baby?”

“Yes! Yes, I want it! Please fill me up! Breed me! I’m begging you!” 

Something animalistic snapped inside Bakugou with her plea, and without a second thought, he turned and shoved her face down into the bed, keeping her hips up in his firm grip as he fucked her mercilessly. Koge’s voice once again peaked, clutching onto the sheets as she moaned and cried into them. The new aggression and dominance he was displaying had her entire body screaming to have his cum inside her, the urge to mate with him so strong that she couldn’t ignore it. All she could sense was him, from his scent to the taste his cum had left on her lips, and without him she knew she would surely go insane. 

“Such an obedient little mate,” Bakugou’s grunts and moans began to mix with a deep growl, sending prickling goosebumps across Koge’s flushed and sweaty skin. “I’ll fill you up, slut. I’ll make sure you get what you’re begging for.”

Within the next few moments, Bakugou’s thrusts became erratic as he shifted his body closer to hover over her, digging himself in as deep as he could as he released inside her. With each rough buck of his hips into hers, Koge could feel the hot, thick liquid fill her, struggling to find room beside the large presence of his cock. Still, she couldn’t move or say a word, her entire body twitching and pulsing with the remnants of her final orgasm, squeezing his cock and forcing a sharp hiss from his behind his teeth. 

“That’s it, baby. Take it all in.” Taking hold of her ass in his hands, Bakugou spread her open, smirking in satisfaction at the sight of his cum leaking from her cunt around his cock. Slowly, he began to pull out, giving a deep purr at the mess his cum made with his exit, dribbling from her and onto the bed. “Fuck. Your cunt’s too small for all that cum, Koge.” 

Panting as she tried to recover some feeling in her limbs, Koge weakly reached down between her legs, using her petite fingers to stroke along her cum stained pussy, pushing them inside her and spreading herself open. “C’mon, Katsuki… Don’t let it all drip out. I told you to breed me.”

“You think I’m done with you?” Grabbing her by the arms, Bakugou pulled her upper body back against his, one of his hands caressing her neck while he kissed her flushed cheek tenderly. “My pretty mate… I’ll make sure you’re bred properly.”

Smiling, Koge placed her hand on his cheek, guiding his lips down to hers. “Mm… you’d better. Now shove that big cock back inside me. And make sure to use your teeth this time. Don’t be gentle with me.”

“Only if you beg.”

[notapaladin]

we are all walking each other home

Did anyone order plotless summer family fluff by the pool with snow cones? No? Too bad, that’s all I got. In which Acatl and Teomitl and their family have a good day.

Also on AO3!

-

If the young and devastatingly attractive Revered Speaker of Tenochtitlan wanted to invite his Imperial Consort’s close family to the palace to stave off the heat of the rainy season in his gardens and pools, none of them were going to gainsay him—especially not Acatl. Though his obligations nagged at him, he could set them down for a few hours to spend time with his brother and sisters. It would be nice to simply rest for once; Teomitl insisted it was the least he deserved.

Though I’m not sure how restful this is going to be, he thought. The gardens Teomitl had inherited from his predecessors were certainly lovely enough, all lush greenery and tiled fountains, even if they couldn’t measure up to his lover’s dreams for his own under-construction palace across the Sacred Precinct from Acatl’s temple. If they’d been left alone to walk the paths and stretch out under the trees, Acatl imagined he’d find it comfortable enough. But they weren’t alone, and that made all the difference. He was glad to have mended his relationship with his other sisters, he loved his nieces and nephews to distraction, but all of them together in the same space was...

“Ollin, stop running by the water! You’ll fall!”

“So then I said to Citlalli, I said...”

“And nobody’s offered for you yet, Coaxoch? Why, when I was your age—”

“Auntie!”

...Well. It was a lot.

He’d claimed a seat at the farthest end of one of the intricately dyed reed mats Teomitl had had spread out, watching the chaos unfold from under the shade of a sprawling tree. Ollin had not stopped running; he and a few of his similarly aged cousins had all gotten into what appeared to be an impromptu game of tag with Acatl’s dog Miton, who was yipping up a delighted storm and wagging his tail so fast it was an orange-tipped blur. His sisters Nelli and Icnoyotl had shown up gossiping about something someone’s brother had done and hadn’t so much as paused for breath since, with their husbands providing increasingly colorful—and increasingly loud—commentary. Mihmatini, enormously pregnant, had lowered herself into the waist-deep pool nearby and kept dropping down to dunk her entire body underwater in a way that suggested she was trying to either muffle her nephews’ shrieking or grow gills, whichever happened first. And Teomitl?

Teomitl was in his element. He’d shed all his finery save for the emerald piercing his septum—still too new to be removed so soon in the healing process—but he didn’t need any, not with the way he was crouched down and beaming at Nelli’s fourth daughter showing him a bug she’d caught. It could have melted a stone; Acatl’s heart didn’t stand a chance. He knew he was smiling helplessly, knew his adoration would be clear to anyone so much as sparing him a passing glance, but just then he didn’t care. I love you. I love you. You’re going to be a wonderful father.

“My lords!”

A few of his family members twitched. Nobody except Teomitl seemed to think that the servants carrying trays loaded with bowls of compacted mountain snow and pitchers of fruit juice were talking to them; he, meanwhile, sprang up and announced, “Ices for everyone! Excellent, set them down just there.”

“We get ice?!” That was Nelli’s daughter, her voice rising in a delighted shriek.

“You get ice,” Mihmatini informed her, accepting Teomitl’s arm to heave herself out of the pool with a grunt. “Eat it before it melts.”

Nobody quite swarmed the trays—they were all too polite or too overawed by the match their Mihmatini had made—but there was a general purposeful drift in that direction. Even Teomitl’s gray-and-white hound Ehecatzin slunk over hopefully to try to steal some; when one of Acatl’s brothers-in-law nudged him away, he settled for being scratched behind the ears. Miton, more singleminded, had to be ordered to sit. Acatl watched, finding himself disinclined to move. It was true that snow carried down from the mountains was a treat reserved for those of imperial blood or imperial alliances, especially on such a hot day, but he didn’t really feel like inserting himself into the crowd when everyone was debating fruit toppings.

Eventually, Teomitl padded over with a bowl in each hand, stretching out his long legs as he sat down. It was closer than he ought to be with so many eyes around them, but once again Acatl found he couldn’t really mind. Not when Teomitl was quirking up a smile as he set down a bowl of pineapple-drenched ice for him.

“Brought you some,” he said quietly. Not that he needed to keep his voice down; there was no way to put two dogs and over a dozen people in one space and not have it be loud enough to drown out any conversation they might have. Still, Acatl appreciated the discretion.

He picked up the bowl, noting that Teomitl’s own was the violently pink shade only pitaya fruit juice could give. The runners were fast and the ice had been stored well; it was still cold enough to chill his fingers through the clay. “I would have gotten up.”

“You looked comfortable.” There was another of those soft, sunny smiles, and he couldn’t help smiling in return.

“Mm. So did you.” His lover was always at his best in a friendly crowd, laughing and joking until his family saw past the jade and turquoise to the man beneath. All that energy needed a purpose. Rather like our dogs, he mused, but he knew better than to ever say that out loud even if they did all share a tendency to snore.

Teomitl shifted a little closer, so that they almost touched. The fingers of his free hand twitched as though he wanted to twine them with Acatl’s own. “I’m more comfortable here.”

Then he licked at his half-melted cup of snow, erasing all chances of Acatl managing to reply. The fruit juice was staining his lips and tongue; though he was graceful as he usually was when eating, a drop clung to the corner of his mouth and Acatl itched to brush it away. He didn’t. He wasn’t sure he could move. Teomitl made a soft noise of pure pleasure that sent a lightning surge of want through his veins, and he couldn’t look away. “Ngh.”

Teomitl cast a glance at him from under lowered lashes, lips curving in a wicked smile. “Hm?”

They couldn’t possibly be any more in public. Taking a deep breath, he wrenched his mind away from memories of what that tongue could do. “Nothing.”

Teomitl hummed, smugly pleased with himself, and motioned to their bowls. “Have some. It’s good.”

He studied his bowl for a moment before trying it; there were chunks of fruit as well as juice, cold and sweet enough to make his teeth hurt. The pain was well worth it, because it was delicious. He let his eyes slide closed as he ate, focusing on the sensations around him—the warmth of the sun through dappled shade, the chill of the ice on his tongue, the tingling awareness of Teomitl’s body next to his, the happy chatter of his nieces and nephews and siblings. He caught slivers of conversation too, Necalli’s first campaign and Nelli’s recipe for washing blood from dyed cotton mingling in his ears. His heart felt like a tiny sun.

This is what makes life living. He inhaled, breathing in the scents of fruit and crushed grass and warm water. The flowers, the jade. Mihmatini was right.

Eventually, all the ice was gone. He was aware of his siblings’ conversations around him; two of his brothers-in-law were discussing the weather with the grave importance it deserved, while his sisters were discussing Mihmatini’s pregnancy with a frankness that was turning Icnoyotl’s always-squeamish husband Chimalli slightly green. The children, unsurprisingly, were the first to throw themselves back into the water; Neutemoc and Chimalli were next, theoretically to keep an eye on them but actually to tow the smallest ones around in the water while they screeched with joy. Teomitl, still eyeing the remains of his ice as though there might possibly be some fruit left, actually set the bowl down and perked up at the sight.

Acatl nudged him. “Go on, help them corral the flock. It’ll be good practice for you.”

Teomitl’s smile was a little crooked, a little helpless, and terribly endearing. “I hope the baby gets along with its cousins.”

“They’ll certainly have plenty of options,” he replied dryly. Between Neutemoc’s five and all his sisters’ spawn, Teomitl’s child would have over a dozen cousins to play with by the time it was born. As always when he thought of it, he sent a brief mental prayer to the gods for Mihmatini’s continued health. She’s the Guardian of the Sacred Precinct. The Imperial Consort of the Revered Speaker. And she’d have my head for fretting over her.

“...They will.” Now the smile was wistful. “Your family is wonderful.”

He nudged him a little harder. “Our family. Or did you forget you chose this?”

Mihmatini was sliding back into the pool, and Teomitl’s eyes followed her for a moment. His fingers just barely grazed the back of Acatl’s hand. “Hmm. I did choose this, didn’t I?”

Then Teomitl left his side and plunged into the water, and he realized that he had perhaps miscalculated.

His lover was always beautiful, whether he was in a warrior’s armor or all the gold and feathers of his office. Even in the plainest clothing, the curve of his cheekbones and the brightness of his smile could take Acatl’s breath away. He’d thought, with the years they’d been together, that nothing could surprise him anymore.

Duality preserve him, he was wrong. He’d never seen Teomitl like this—all rippling water and rippling muscle, laughing and shaking water from his hair as Mihmatini splashed him playfully and Ollin clung whooping to his arm. Droplets hung sparkling in the sunlight like stars, running in rivulets down the well-sculpted lines of his chest and stomach. Surrounded by water—surrounded by family, head flung back in brilliant careless joy—he was more magnificent than he’d been at his coronation. Acatl had just eaten, but he felt as hungry as Toci. I love you. The words beat in tune with his heart. I want you.

Every line of his body felt like a taut bowstring, but he couldn’t move. If he moved, he was going to do something stupid.

Neutemoc’s voice snapped him out of his trance. His brother leaned on his elbows at the edge of the pool, water dripping off him onto the tiles, and flashed him a tired grin. “I’m sweating just looking at you, Acatl. Join us!”

“Nhm,” he managed.

Teomitl lowered Ollin back into the water and gave Acatl a grin of his own. “Please?”

Well, it was hot. But he was still strangely reluctant to move, and it took a long moment before he could stand up, stretch well enough that something in his back stopped complaining, and amble over to the water. The sun hadn’t warmed it as much as he thought; when he slid down into it, he had to clench his teeth at the chill. For a while he simply stood next to his brother, watching their family play.

Neutemoc elbowed him. “See? Told you it was better in the water.”

He nodded. True, they were surrounded by bright flowers and screaming life, but it was...peaceful, here. It reminded him of his childhood, before their father had died and everything had started to go so wrong. No. He shook his head, banishing that line of thought. Today had been wonderful so far, and that was how it would stay. He was standing in cool, clear water with a belly full of delicious food and his family around him. His nieces had roped Teomitl into some sort of splash-based war that involved a great deal of high-pitched giggling on all sides, whereas his older nephews were skipping the splashing in favor of an impromptu and very messy wrestling match. He was on the sidelines, content to observe.

And then someone’s errant flailing limb sprayed him with a fine mist, and he jolted out of his reverie.

“Sorry!” Teomitl called. It would have sounded much more sincere if he wasn’t grinning.

“Hrmph,” he grumbled, closing his eyes. He knew he was failing at suppressing his own smile, and Teomitl must be able to see it.

The peace of his immediate surroundings didn’t last long. The sounds of splashing water grew louder and closer, and his nieces’ shrieks took on the sort of gleeful pitch he associated with trouble. Oh no.

That was all the warning he got before a gout of water arced down and drenched him completely. He yelped, inhaling water, and as he coughed and spluttered and caught his breath he decided that someone was about to be in deep trouble. Grimacing, he scraped his hair back from his face, blinked water out of his eyes, and looked around for the perpetrator.

The unrepentant perpetrator. “You looked hot?”

He took a deep breath and leveled a glare at his lover. “Teomitl.”

“Ah,” Teomitl began.

And then Acatl taught him one of the benefits of growing up with a brother close in age. Namely, when you had someone who was willing and able to throw you into the nearest body of water at any opportunity, you got very good at fighting back in kind. He pushed off from the wall, wading rapidly towards him; before Teomitl could scramble out of range, Acatl’s arm came up to splash him in the face. “You asked for this!”

Teomitl danced out of the way, a grin splitting his face, and wasted no time splashing Acatl back. “Is it war, then?!”

It was war. Their nieces and nephews joined in, splashing both of them indiscriminately; Acatl reeled under the onslaught, but managed to stay on his feet no matter the weight of his wet hair. Teomitl was stronger than he was, but unused to fighting such a battle. It was easy to back him against the edge of the pool. And then the dogs, wanting to be a part of the fun, plunged into the water in a cacophony of howls and a storm of wagging tails, and he had to stagger back as Miton all but flopped on top of him.

“Bad dog—ack!” Opening his mouth was a mistake, for Teomitl took advantage of his distraction to splash his face again. He glared at his lover through the curtain of his dripping hair.

Teomitl took one look at his face and his eyes went wide; Acatl had a moment of satisfaction before his lover ducked sideways, dodging behind a very surprised Necalli. “Protect me!”

Just as quickly, Necalli darted out of the way. “My lord uncle, you are on your own.”

Teomitl was the furthest thing from a coward, but evidently he had learned when discretion was to be the better part of valor. He turned and waded rapidly for the far edge of the pool.

“Get back here--!”

Teomitl laughed brightly. “You’ll have to catch me first, Acatl!”

Oh, so that’s how it is. Feeling his face split into an unaccustomed grin, Acatl ran after him. Teomitl was younger, faster, and in better shape; but when he heaved himself out of the water and took off down the path, Acatl wasn’t too far behind. As he ran, he realized he didn’t have a plan, but he didn’t need one; it was a beautiful summer day, his blood was pumping, and he was alive. That was all that mattered. Teomitl swerved around a densely-flowered shrub, and he followed.

Whoever had planned the layout of the palace gardens had desired privacy; it was darker and quieter here, the chaos of the pool muffled by the greenery. Anything beyond that Acatl didn’t have a chance to absorb, however, because Teomitl was grabbing him and pulling him into a hot, hungry kiss.

Oh.

That was the last coherent thought he had for a while. His mind was full of Teomitl—of the heat of his wet skin, the strength of the arms around him, the way he still tasted of pitaya juice and mountain snow. One hand settled at his waist; the other slid up into his hair, burying into the thick strands until a soft growl of pleasure reverberated through them both. His body knew just what to do, arching to press himself even closer, and when he dug his nails into Teomitl’s back he was rewarded with a whine. If he didn’t need to breathe, he could have kissed him for hours.

When Teomitl pulled away, mouth red and eyes glittering with desire, he whispered, “I missed you. I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

He wasn’t the only one. But before he could say that, a calloused hand slid down his spine, and Acatl sucked in a hard breath at the way Teomitl’s hips pressed against his own. His blood was still up, but now all that simmering energy was alert to a new purpose. “It’s only been a few hours.”

Teomitl’s expression turned wicked as that hand reached his ass, giving it a lingering squeeze. “And? You’re irresistable.”

Perhaps there was the occasional downside to having such a young and enthusiastic lover, he thought. Out loud, he huffed, “The children will hear us.”

“They’re playing with the dogs.”

The barking, splashing, and cheering ringing through the gardens were loud enough to muffle them—if they were careful. Still, Acatl bit his lip and shook his head. Children were one thing; his nosy sisters were another thing entirely. “My siblings will hear us.”

Teomitl scowled lightly at that. “Am I Revered Speaker or not?”

“Teomitl!” he hissed.

The scowl vanished as though it had never been. Teomitl lowered his head to nuzzle at Acatl’s throat, voice so soft it was almost inaudible. Any sweetness was tempered by the way he drew his nails lightly up the column of Acatl’s spine, hard enough to sting pleasantly but not enough to leave a mark. As his lover’s lips moved against his skin, Acatl shivered. “We’ll be quiet.”

It was tempting. Gods, it was tempting. Teomitl kissed him again, long and slow, and he felt his resolve weakening. His family could entertain themselves for a few minutes, surely. Half an hour. He would prefer more time—would prefer to give Teomitl his full attention all night—but he wasn’t a fool to turn down what was so freely offered. The breeze was cold in the shade, but that didn’t matter when his lover was so warm in his arms,  the slide of skin on skin setting his blood on fire. “Mmm...”

“Come on,” Teomitl breathed, and shifted to press a thigh between his legs. Acatl found himself wishing briefly and desperately that they’d have the forethought to hide against something solid, but then Teomitl was mouthing at his throat and he wasn’t thinking anything at all.

“Nngh...” At any other time, he might have been embarrassed at the whine that escaped him, but shame was very far away at the moment. His self-control was hanging only be a few very thin threads, and only the din of his family gathering not nearly far enough away was keeping it in place. We could. They’re having fun without us; they won’t be looking for us yet. But...

But they could. Of course Mihmatini knew, and he was almost sure that Neutemoc did as well, though of course they’d never discussed it beyond the most vague assurances that yes, he was perfectly happy—but his other sisters were clueless, and the thought of their reactions if they discovered him in Teomitl’s arms was enough to turn his bones to ice. Reluctantly, he panted, “No. We shouldn’t.”

Teomitl sighed and pulled back, but he kept Acatl within the circle of his arms as though he couldn’t bear to let him go. “I hate when you’re reasonable.”

“No, you don’t,” he murmured fondly.

When Acatl lifted a hand to cup his cheek, Teomitl tilted his head into it with a faint stirring of a smile. “...No, I don’t.”

There was a particularly loud splash from the direction of the pool, and Acatl winced. “Let’s get back before they wonder where we’ve gone.”

“Mm.” With one final caress, Teomitl let him go. “Alright.”

Later, there would be dinner; later, there would be dancers and musicians to entertain them. Later, he and Teomitl would be properly alone. But for now, they would bask in the warmth of their family and the bonds they’d made.

[defdaily]

[TRANSLATION] Ceci Magazine January 2016 issue x JJ PROJECT

[INTERVIEW] JB & Jinyoung: Ceci January ‘16

“If it’s really a drama, whether it’s a happy ending, or a sad ending, whatever the ending might be it doesn’t matter because we are the drama that never ends. I think we have to continuously try to be happy when we do the job we like.”

- What’ve you been up to? You must’ve been extremely busy with the national <If You Do> promotions and the activities overseas. JB: After the “If You Do” promotion we went on an overseas fan meeting tour. We’ve been busy, but whenever we had time we would compose songs and practice.

- You probably didn’t have a time to take a breather this year too; will you get a break after the year end festivals? Junior: That’s our freedom. Our company gladly accepts our proposals, so if we want to have a bigger bite and work more, we do that, if we want to take a rest, we can. However, we think that now’s the time that GOT7 has to work hard, so I want to continue working. I don’t want to rest (laughs).

- Personally, I think that <If You Do> is a song that marks the turning point for GOT7. What are your thoughts on that? Junior: Rather than a turning point, it was a challenge that could display a different image for GOT7. The colours of the seven GOT7 members are too different to carry on with the same concept all of the time, so even if it’s not something like <If You Do>, I think we will become a group that challenges various concepts in the future.

- You placed 1st at a music program for the first time since your debut, too. Did you feel rewarded for your efforts so far? JB: I think it was a chance that allowed us to feel to a greater extent that our fans have worked together with us. It’s not something we do for the reward, but it did become a driving force that pushes us to work even harder further on. Just like when you get scolded all the time, and then get praised and you automatically work harder.

- JB, you are the centre of the team as its leader, and if you were to grade your performance for the last 2 years, what mark would you give yourself? JB: Hmm, I don’t think I did that well (laughs). I wasn’t even that bossy as a leader, and I didn’t really take the initiative and set an example (laughs). It’s because we have this atmosphere where the members fix everything together by talking about it, in case something happens.

- Junior, what are your thoughts on this? Junior: Actually, I’m not the one to judge, but I think he’s doing really great because the role of a leader is not something fancy, it’s a silent role.

- You’ve been together since JJ Project days, when do you help each other the most? JB: When I need a serious advice with my worries? It’s just that, the topic is not something personal; we talk more about the direction or the path that GOT7 needs to take in the future. It really helps a lot. Junior: When I get a lot of complicated thoughts. It’s been like this ever since JJ Project. It’s not like I share my worries intentionally, it sort of comes out naturally while talking. When that happens, it helps me to sort out things. JB: We don’t say “Let’s now talk about our worries.” When we talk it just turns into counseling.

- When do you think that you really match well? Junior: (Our) serious character? JB: Yes, that’s right. (laughs) Junior: Some time ago, I used to be noisy, but now I have calmed down. When I need to concentrate, hyung adjusts the atmosphere next to me so that I wouldn’t lose my focus.

- Now that I think of it, you two seem to be really gentle. The gentlest out of all the idols I’ve seen so far (laughs). JB: That’s why we have decided to lighten it up. Both of us. Especially, if we feel that the interview is getting heavier, we tell each other to go “lightly, lightly!” (laughs)

- Your serious disposition may also become your advantage. Aside from that, what is your biggest worry lately? Junior: The worry of how I should live through the cold in winter? JB: Even though we decided to tread lightly, this is too light. (laughs) Junior: I really can’t stand the cold, you know. Was it too light? JB: In my case, it’s “what should I do to become real?” Junior: Isn’t that too heavy? JB: Every group, and every member of a group has an individual colour, right? How do I express GOT7’s colour, and the colour of JB in all that? How does the colour that GOT7 expresses shines to the general public? Rather than constantly following the trend trying to look cool, I’m thinking how we can become the “real” GOT7.

- When you are in a group of men, you also end up fighting, right? How do you solve that? JB: We don’t exchange blows. We solve it by talking. Even though the conversation sounds like an argument (laughs). Junior: We sometimes open a 100-minute debate with the members. JB: If, for example, some members start fighting over something, then we all gather together in one place and talk it through. Junior: If I get into an argument with Jaebeom hyung, then Jackson would say “I think Jaebeom hyung is right,” and another member would go “I think Jinyoung hyung is right,” and like that we mediate everyone’s opinions. Rather than pointing out who did wrong, we reach positive conclusion by saying things like, you should try and correct this point, or you should try and understand where each of you comes from. (laughs)

- I read your previous interviews, both of you seem to like doing something on your own. Is it because you always spend your time surrounded by people? JB: Even if there are many people around, I like doing something on my own in the midst of all that. I have a cat character, so even if you pay no attention to me, I’m the type to do my thing in my own way. Once on my day off I went to a foot of a mountain, but when I found myself in a quiet place with no people I got so frustrated I couldn’t stay there. Junior: I’m the opposite. I enjoy contemplation on my own, read, watch a lot of movies. I watched “Secret Sunshine” yesterday.

- Indeed. I’ve found a lot of talk about books and movies in your previous interviews. Junior: I’m growing to like all things analogue. JB: It’s really nice to read a book on your own with your notebook playing some music at some café in Hongdae.

- Don’t you get recognized if you go to a café? JB: We’re not of that level yet. Junior: And Hongdae is simply far away. It’s okay. (laughs)

- Ey, aren’t you too humble? It’s been almost 2 years since your debut, where do you think GOT7 is at right now? JB: If we compare it to riding a subway, it’s like we’ve just validated our bus card. Junior: That would be the T-money card. Bus card is just for a bus, subway card is for subway. (laughs) JB: At the MAMA ceremony, in behind cut, Big Bang’s Taeyang senior said that he feels like after 10 years he’s finally little by little doing the stages he’s been dreaming about. I also dream big. That’s why now it feels like I’ve made one step forward. Just as he’s said, I’ve just validated my T-money card. (laughs)

- When do you feel the best during your activities? Junior: When I get lost in something when I focus a lot. When I don’t even remember what I was doing, I feel catharsis. JB: When I compose songs. I don’t think I can concentrate this much on anything else.

- These emotions become your driving force, right? Junior: Of course. The moment you think you can’t focus on something you like, you have to stop everything.

- Do you have a role model you look up to? Junior: My father. I think about him a lot lately. Actually, my father will have had it tens of times harder than me. Then I wonder how he managed to go through it without giving himself away to his family, how he looked after a disobedient kid like me for over 22 years.

- But you have an image of an obedient kid who doesn’t cause problems? Junior: That’s just on the outside. (laughs) I always get the feeling that my father is great. I want to be someone like my father. I will become a superman-like dad to my children in the future, too. JB: Before, I used to think a lot who I would want to look up to, but now it’s really hard to pinpoint just one person. The number of people I’ve met and got influenced by has grown, and each of them had different strengths.

- Another year has gone by. What was the year 2015 like? JB: We had a lot of opportunities to stand on stage as GOT7. Personally, it was a year of growth that allowed me to sing, compose, and mull over various thoughts.

- Then, what would you wish for GOT7 in the year 2016? Junior: I hope we get more opportunities to try something new. We always have a team meeting where we talk about what we would like to try doing next year as a team and individually. Starting with the things already planned, I hope this will be a year where we face new opportunities. For example, making an album on our own, or each of us nurturing our capabilities in individual activities and thus making the team grow even more. JB: Since I’ve decided to tread lightly, I’ll go lightly. I wish for a warm year. I wish the year 2016 were healthy and great year full of fighting spirit! (laughs)

- Finally, if you were to say a word to each other? Junior: Let’s really become lighter in the year to come! (laughs) JB: The same. Let’s try to become somewhat lighter. No need to become super light, but it’d be great to become a witty person. Junior: I don’t want to refer to anyone in particular, but when we look at the great artists we admire, whoever that person might be, there’s an optimistic side to them, I think.

- Optimistic people are good with generating interesting and original ideas. (laughs) JB: Actually, I’m an optimistic person, but when I start doing an interview, for some reason, I get too reverent. Junior: Probably because an interview is a type of a “chronicle.” (laughs)

Scans: Jr. RAM

Kor-Eng: Seven Cookies

[boogiewrites]

A Girl Walks Into A Bar 13

Characters: Declan Harp x Bella Fiore (OFC)

Summary: Modern Declan harp AU. Declan plans a date and hopes it goes well. It goes so well neither of them wants it to end.

Warnings/Tags: Mild. Language. Date Night. Bella softening up and stepping up! Maybe they finally kiss? 

Click on my screen name then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please leave a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed this! It makes me want to write more of what you want if you let me know!

Thanks to Bella’s stellar work ethic, she was able to concentrate despite the buzzing in the back of her skull. With her still highly suspicious coworkers she managed to avoid questions with glares, but the bravest and admittedly closest to her, CeeCee,  wasn’t convinced.

She stands in Bella’s doorway after hours, door open for the 4th day in a row. She’d been playing old Motown all day, they’d even caught her dancing and singing to herself in the studio, chewing on a pen and swinging her hips as she read over papers.

“Alright. Who is he? Or her, what the hell do I know?” CeeCee shrugs.

Bella's eyes shoot up from her clipboard, looking wide at her ballsy business partner. “What?” she asks with no inflection.

“I’m not stupid. I know you. I have eyes. You’re happy about something.” she says with a jutted forward chin, giving Bella tight lips that show her obviousness.

Bella only stares, her eyes under a deep set brow.

“The Motown all day? Singing and dancing to yourself? I even saw you smile at your phone today. You tell me nothing is going on I’m gonna tell you you’re full of shit.” Her bold statement delivered with a back and forth of her head.

“Then save us bother the time and tell me that then.” Bella snaps back quickly.

“UGH.” she throws her head back dramatically. “Fuckin’ Scorpios I swear to GOD!” she groans and turns to leave. Bella smirks as she returns back to her checklist.

----

All Declan had told her was to dress comfortably and for movement. To say she was curious was an understatement. She’d suggested something fun that would help her forget the hard week she’d had. While it had been tough,  there was something different, something that kept her mood from crashing despite the workload and meetings. She’d not told him about that part though.

With his advice in mind, she’d dressed comfortably. She struggled to find the balance between form and function, fussing over if she looked “cute” enough. Which was something she hadn’t weighed in many years. But he made her want to consider things like that again. He brought out something in her that made her want to be feminine. After years of leather and denim, of hard brows and severe hair, she’d found herself shifting. This was also something CeeCee noticed. She’d even worn a dress to work more than once in the past week, and on a non-meeting day. Wearing her hair down and loose, softer make up in lighter colors and less black, she felt a part of her opening up that hadn’t since she was young. Her armor of leather not feeling as needed when she had him around, she didn’t feel the need to protect herself so much. She knew she was in good company.

Declan makes it to her house, the roar of a motorcycle surprising her as she fussed over Robbie before having to be out the evening.

“You’re fucking kidding me?” she scoffs out a playful laugh. She watches him pull up on an old bike, something like her dad would’ve ridden when she was small. A surprising shade of turquoise, but what was more surprising was how he looked.

He was no stranger to showing more skin in the warmer months, just like her, but riding a bike requires a bare minimum of coverage to still be responsible. Plus maybe he’d gone to the gym every day this past week, gone up to the woods and started clearing out his stomping grounds of the winter build up. Maybe he’d wanted to look good for her. She was making him consider his appearance just the same as he was her. He hoped he succeeded, as he knew she’d look good to him no matter what.

She wracked her brain for the long since buried information on motorcycles she had from her childhood. Her dad having his and treating it like a member of the family before his wreck. After it he’d dabbled a bit here and there, helping friends work on theirs. But he’d kept being a fan of them, trading road trips for magazines as he got older. She gets washed over with an odd, warm nostalgia. She thinks of the old pictures of her parents, him in his leather jacket and her in her bell bottoms and flowing dresses. She wonders if this was what her mom had felt like when big Sandro had rolled up to take her out all those years ago. A deep pull in her gut that she didn’t want to acknowledge told her yes.

She jumps and shakes out the nerves. “Be cool. Be cool.” She whispers, stretching her arms and neck as he makes his way to the door. “Be cool. You can do this. It’s just a date.” It was a date right? Shit, had he said date? She knew he liked her, no room for wondering there, the almost kiss was still burned into her mind. So it was a date. Or was he going slow? Was he going slow because of her or because he wanted to? Her brow furrows and she scratches her big wavy hair, falling past her collar bones now as she’d opted out of the usual spring cut. The doorbell makes her jump and she rolls her eyes at herself in harsh judgment. She counts to ten slowly and breathes, then goes for the door.

Declan stood with gleaming shoulders in the late afternoon sun. His tank top long and loose, faded over dark jeans and his usual shit-kicking boots and chain. The leather vest was something she’d not seen him in before and to say she was a fan was an understatement. She wonders if there’s more leather where it came from and if he had a collection to rival hers. She doubted it but filed the curiosity to his kinks away for later.

“Hey, Babe.” She greets first and boldly, pulling the door back to welcome him in.

“Hey Bells.” A broad closed mouth smile that makes his eyes nearly disappear comes across his face at the sight of her. A dress cut in at the waist with a little ditzy floral print of white and yellow against a black background reminds him of some cool girl from a 90s sitcom. It brushed at her knees and he saw her same little boots loose around her ankles. With effortless hair and makeup, he wanted to hold her against him and feel that softness. The cotton of her dress under his hands as he leaned in to hug her, the warm berry vanilla scent of her as he kissed her cheek and made her blush as she side-eyes him before moving away.

“Gonna grab my purse. Say hi to Robbie if you want. He missed you.” She tells over her shoulder with a tone that suggested he wasn’t the only one.

“I’ve missed him.” He responds in a deep and even voice, Robbie already loudly announcing his presence and rubbing between Declan’s legs. “Hey, baby dude.” He mrmurs with a scratch to his fluffy butt. Robbie purrs in approval.

“Alright.” she announces with a black leather crossbody bag to match the jacket. Warm for the weather but she wouldn’t get on a bike without it.

“I know I said comfy but, I don’t know if a dress will work for what I’ve got in mind.” He responds with a hesitant face.

“Oh, I’m prepared.” She responds proudly, hand reaching down to lift the hem of her dress to show shorts underneath. “Got bike shorts underneath.” She grins.

“Always prepared huh?” He nods in approval.

“I try.” She smiles sweetly, bending to pet Robbie one last time. “We’ll be back, kay? I put your catnip toy on the bed for you.” She coos at him, taking out her keys.oo

“Hope you don’t mind.” He says, shrugging to the bike.

“I should’ve known you had a bike really. Black Wolf and all.” She answers, putting her keys and zipping shut her purse. “But you’d never mentioned it.”

“I don’t ride her in the winter. Well, not this one anyway.”

“She special?” Bella asks as he moves to grab a helmet out of studded leather saddle bag

“The most.”

“So this is the woman I’m competing with huh?” She chuckles.

He feels his face flush slightly, thankful for the color he’s gotten in the woods the past week to hide it, skin now a warm-toned tan that caught the sun like a dream. Bella wanted to run her fingertips down those muscled arms and feel every curve of muscle he’d earned. “Yeah. My first love.” He explains after clearing his throat. “First bike.” He clarifies, handing her a black matte helmet, same as his. “My mom hated it, so I painted it her favorite color as a way to suck up to her.” He grins at the memory.

“Did it work?”

“Eh. Not really.” He fully laughs and mounts the bike, holding his hand out to her. “You got it?”

“Oh yeah, don’t worry about me. Dad had bikes growing up.”

“Seriously?”

“Mm hmm.”

“Ugh. Lucky.” He remarks, getting out his keys and readying his foot to kick off. “You gotta tell me about that later.”

“Can do.” She nods with her helmet on, now fearlessly wrapping her arms around him, the warmth of his stomach and chest against her palms and fingertips as the unbelievably soft shirt shifted in between her fingers with the flutter of the wind. He wasn’t reckless or fast and she appreciated it greatly. It’d been decades since she’d been on a bike.

They pull up and Bella peels herself from the hot skin of his leather vest, looking forward to seeing all of in motion as she’d gotten her fair share of his arms during the ride. Although driving out of town had been an unexpected but lovely detour, the site of his arms, which up close rivaled the tree trunks on the sides of the two-lane road they rode on. They pull up to a long line of fencing. His bike not the only one there, but by far the coolest in her opinion.

“Forest Fortress?” She states out loud with a wrinkle of her nose in question as she shakes out her hair from her helmet.

“So you haven’t been here before. Good.” He proudly declares and takes her helmet.

“You gonna tell me what it is or do I have to keep waiting?” She smiles.

“Have you ever played paintball, Bella?” He asks, half bent and securing the helmet in the saddle bag.

“No, but I’ve played laser tag.” She offers.

“Think of it as laser tag that hurts.” He laughs.

“So this is a paintball place?” Her brows go up and she shakes out her dress.

“Hope that’s okay.”

“Hell yeah it’s okay.” She answers with a big grin, bouncing on the balls of her feet slightly. “My legs are gonna get totally fucked though.” She lets out an amused noise.

“Nah, they have protective gear you can use. Wouldn’t have let you leave in that if I thought I’d be bringing you back all bruised. Robbie would never let me live it down.” He kids with a straight face and she manages to suppress a girlish giggle at him beaming a killer smile her way.

With his charisma and gentle guidance, he found that smile that he was worried might only exist at the festival still fully engaged as they went through the steps of putting on gear and teaching her how to use the guns. People knew him there, half bro hugs and slaps to the back in greeting all the way until they were both equipped and ready to head out into the obstacle course.

“So you do want to be on the same team or different ones?” The guy at the last stop before the entrance asks, knowing she was a newbie.  

Before Declan can even turn to look at her she answers definitely “Different.” With a big and challenging smile.

“Look at the balls on this one.” the guy laughs and slaps a blue stripe on her gear. “And red for you D.” He remarks with a firm slap to his back. “Clean fight guys. You heard the rules.” He commands and opens the gate to reveal a scattered and varied series of wooden and rope courses in a fenced-in area of the forest. A rainbow of paint colors splatted all over everything. Tarps, haybales, stacks of giant tires, it was essentially a playground for adults. Which was a perfect choice in Bella’s eyes as she scurried away as soon as they crossed the threshold much to Declan's surprise. He was more than thrilled with her enthusiasm for his choice and the feisty competitive behavior it was bringing out in her.

The alarm blares and the shots start. She decides to keep an eye out for Declan, but take out anyone else if they popped up. She took out one person, her smaller size and workout routine she’d amped up for the warmer months helping her out. Declan was at a disadvantage with his height, she would see his back arched and bobbing around but could never get him head-on. So she uses the pole dancing classes to her advantage and shimmies up behind a terrace, thighs burning as she aims and misses. He whips around fast and sees nothing and she decides to just have some fun and jumps on his back, the unexpected attack knocking him to the ground as he hears her distinct laugh from on top of him as he moves to face her.

“Got ya bitch.” She snorts and laughs.

“Jesus Christ Bella!” He mutters out as he scrambles. “Where you even fuckin' come from?”

“Always look high.” She answers rolling off him as she keeps laughing quietly to not draw more attention to them.

“You didn’t shoot me though.” He grins wickedly and holds his gun up to her.

“I missed.” she shrugs. “Worth it though.” She leans back and sighs and smiles at him.

Well dammit, now he didn’t want to shoot her, laid back looking all soft and smiling at him.

“But you haven’t shot me either.” she raises a brow and grins, gun pointing at his chest now.

“Seems we’re at an impasse partner.” he says with a cowboy twang that makes her snort.

“If we eliminate each other, we can start over, or go back to town and eat. If we don’t, we have to walk 10 paces and try our luck with everyone else.” she replies with a playful wrinkle of her nose.

“I am hungry.” he answers with a pout of his lips.

“You know I am.” she smirks.

“A truce? A duel?”

“A...betrayl?” she tilts her head, finger on the trigger as another alarmingly charming smile comes across his face.

He flinches like he’s going to shoot her, only wanted to get her to wince  and give her shit for it, but instead he knocks her gun and sets it off when he startles her, shooting him in the thigh. “Oh shit!” She squeaks, covering her mouth and sitting up as he balls up and groans. “Please tell me I didn’t just shoot you in the dick.” she begs with a serious face that makes him contorted up in discomfort, snort and laugh loudly.

“Glad to say you did not.” he groans.

“Oh, thank God.” she exhales sharply, rubbing his arm and frowning. “I didn’t mean-”

“Nah, nah I know. My fault.” he shakes his head. “Guns involved. Shouldn’t have fucked around.” he grunts out, sitting up. “It fuckin’ hurt but I’ll live. Be a nasty bruise. That was so fuckin’ close.” he lets out a pained chuckle.

“Yeah that had to hurt, dude, I'm so sorry.” she gives him an entirely genuine apologetic face, leaned in close to his that was still grimacing as he rubbed his leg.

“I’ll live.” he gives her an exhale and a nod, giving a good show of his words. “Well you know what might help?” he says, leaning and looking at the splat of paint.

“What?” she asks so earnestly he feels guilty already.

“You could kiss it and make it better.” he responds with a straight face and she shoves his shoulder so hard he hits the ground, forcing out a laugh from his chest.

“Maybe later.” she rolls her eyes and stands, dusting off her legs. “You fuckin’ goof.” she shakes her head and reaches her hand down to him. “Timer’s about to go off.” she nods towards the large LED board above the box where the scorekeeper watched.

They walk with his arm around her shoulders back towards the front, her arm around him as if she were helping him along.

“The 'ol seduce and betray. I like it.” the guy at the front holds his hand up for a high five as she passes.

“Oh fuck you Kyle.” Declan bellows out.

“Thanks.” Bella grins wide and answers the guy's gesture enthusiastically.

Since she’s mildly maimed him, they decide to go eat instead of going for another round. The energy sourced of nearly an hour hunting other humans had taken its toll on them both. The same closeness, the same warmth, and smiles they’d grown so fond of from each other over more junk food in a shitty little diner he liked. They talked bike’s, his and the ones she’d ridden, the ones her dad worked on, how he’d wrecked and her mother wouldn’t let him ride now out of worry. He learned about her family a bit and was glad to see she’d had a good upbringing, parents still alive and together, something he’d always wanted in a family and for himself. At that small table in the crowded room that felt like no one else was around, they sat and talked for nearly two hours without even checking the time or their phones, it felt to oddly effortless. They both felt heard and like they were interesting to someone else. They talked about nature, about music, sharing their favorite things that everyone else told them they talked too much about.

So when the time came for Bella to go home, her gut was telling her no. In fact, it was screaming it at her. He’d left with another cheek kiss and a tight hug, proving to her he was more than decent. She watches his broad shoulders slumped, jacket now on to guard against the night chill as he rode, his hands shoved into his jean pockets and biting his lip, wondering if he should’ve kissed her.

'You can’t let him leave', her conscience tells her. 'Don’t let him leave. This day was damn near perfect. You KNOW he wants it and you’re brave enough to admit you do too. Just… get his attention. Do something.' Her brain scurries and her throat turns to stone, her mouth open and trying but her nerves wanting to keep her quiet. It would be real if she made a sound. It would turn into more if she called out for him. Knowing you’re living a defining moment is funny. You can let fear freeze you, taking the easy way out, or you call push your cards all in on the table and win big. Or lose everything. But isn’t a life lived with failures better than a life lived with what if’s?

“Declan.” she forces out, the keys in her hand shaking from her nerves, not even moved to be put in the door.

He shuts his eyes for just a second, hiding the relief on his face. God, he had wanted to say something. “Yeah?” he asks over his shoulder, his hair soft around his shoulders, skin still warm and seemingly glowing in the sconces by the door and the solar pikes in the ground along her walkway despite the sun being long gone.

“I-” she starts and doesn’t know where she’s going. But she started. That was like half of the job, wasn’t it? “I don’t... uh...” she licks her lips and puts her keys back in her purse. “I don’t really wanna go home yet.” she manages, looking down before meeting his eyes.

“Oh.” he says, hiding his delight with pursed lips and a nod. “Well that’s, y’know, fine with me.” he shrugs and turns fully towards her, taking slow steps as her feet also carried her towards him.

“You wanna... I dunno... go somewhere else? Like... somewhere you like to go on a nice night like this?” she offers, eyes hopeful as they looked up at the man nearly a foot taller than her as he ran his fingers through his hair. The night was almost as lovely as he was. Almost.

“Yeah. I’ve got a place. Can’t tell anyone though. It’s a secret.” he leans in and gives her a wink that she doesn’t act exasperated by, just a lazy smile on her face.

“I won’t.” she replies softly.

“Let’s go then.” he whispers, taking her hand and walking her back to the bike.

---

The ride is serene and gorgeous. The moon out, bright light dropping through the tree canopy, the long dull roar of the bike as she held herself against him both rumbling together with the motor. She doesn’t know how many times she sighed, but she couldn’t stop. This day had been so nice and it really was a perfect night to be outside.

To a small clearing they drove through a barely broken in path to a large tree on its side. A marked stopping point, a few others having been removed offered a little meadow to see up into sky. Out in the forest, there was no noise or light pollution to take away from the view. They check that their phones were on silent subtly, they weren't taking any chances of being interrupted.

“This looks like someplace in a movie where teens come to get in trouble.” she remarks with a grin, fluffing her hair and shaking her jacket, standing as he turned to sit sideways on the supported bike.

“Or some 30-somethings looking to get away from everyone else.” he offers with a voice that was deeper and more even when he was among the trees. His face fell softer as if he felt at home there.

“You make this?” she asks, looking around, the moon giving enough light to see around up to the tree line.

“Somewhat. Cleared it out a little. Beat out the path over time. I like to get away up here. Sometimes I camp out.” he shrugs his explanation.

“It’s really nice. It’s so quiet.” she whispers.

“Don’t have to whisper.” he gives her the same warm smile that made her give him a chance in the first place.

“Feels like I should.” she remains quiet, standing closer to him, almost between his legs.

They both occupy the silence, looking up at the stars, feeling a slight breeze, taking in the sounds of nature. She wasn’t used to it. But she certainly felt like she could learn to like it. “I can see why you like this so much.” her voice still soft. “Only missing one thing for me.”

“Wassat?” he mumbles, looking at her with her eyes shut and face to the sky.

“Music.”

“Yeah...no wifi out here.” he chuckles.

“I’ve got music saved actually.” she announces, pulling out her phone and ignoring all the usual alerts.

“‘Course you do.” he gives her a smile, watching her nose twitch in thought as she was lit up from the phone screen.

“What? Should I not play it?” she asks with more genuine concern that makes him even more certain there’s a real soft kitten under that hard exterior.

“No, go for it.” he answers with a casual shake of his head.

“‘Kay.” she bites her lips. “There’s only one playlist I have saved, but it’s a great one. My parents wifi up at their cabin is shit so I saved this one so they could listen to it once I hooked up their stereo in the house for them.”

“Please tell me your parents aren’t country fans.” he snarks.

“No, no. They’re cool. Well I mean, I think they have good taste in music anyway.” she smirks. “It’s all Motown and 60’s stuff.” she explains as the Supremes comes over the phone, she sits it on the back of the bike. “One of moms favs.” she reminisces with a happy expression, moving her hand and hips in rhythm. “We’d watch old recordings and do the dances. I still remember most of them.” she admits with a shy smile. “Guess it’s the dance training. Or we just did it way too much.” she chuckles.

“Dance training?” he asks with a nod of his chin.

“Yeah, I danced as a kid. Mom with her pop culture dances and wanting me to learn the Celtic stuff. She thought I was good at it, so she put me in classes. Dance team in school, that whole thing.”

“Should’ve known.” he huffs out.

She turns her face to him, feet still playing out the easy steps.

“You’re good.” he offers with another charming smile.

“Oh.” she looks back down and smiles at the ground with her eyes crinkling at the edges. “Thanks.”

“You don’t think so?”

“It’s not that it’s just...I’m not really the best at taking real compliments.” she admits with a nervous laugh.

“I caught on.” he offers softly and leans forward.

She continues to sway and he contently watches her, wondering if he should make a move or just let her be. “You have a favorite out of these?” he suggests, thumbing through the long list.

“A few of course.” she snickers at herself.

“I wanna know what you're into... pick one out for me.” he urges, his voice slipping deeper and her body notices as it tightens and reacts.

She nods and leans in, getting close and bending over his long legs. His eyes turn a deep shade of brown, growing more lidded as he moved in close enough to smell the sweet scent of her perfume in her hair. Goosebumps bloomed over her skin at the feel of his breath, she gulps and plays it cool, making another little list of her favorites. She thought maybe she could set a soundtrack. Set a mood that couldn’t be ignored, interject with her encyclopedia of knowledge on the music of the time. She decides to loosen herself up first and get a laugh out of it, always a good place to start.

“Alright. Hit play.” she orders with a cheerful smile, Jackson 5 coming through and it wasn’t what he expected. She starts with the dance steps he knows to be associated with them, little turns and hand gestures and he sits back with crossed arms and nods his head to the beat. He applauds with an impressed face even though she didn’t do much and she bows. A cute smile with flushed cheeks as she leaned over to check the playlist.

“Don’t worry about it. Just relax. That’s what this place is for.” he whispers and stands, pulling her away from the bike. He’d seen the songs on the list, he knew he didn’t have anything to worry about with any mood being killed. With the night ripe and the air tense between them, he wanted to facilitate what he thought she wanted and knew he wanted. Maybe she was more timid with things like this than he realized. Her confident front falters as he takes her into his arms, a hand sliding under her jacket to her back pulling her in, another taking her hand, elbows bent with fingers laced together. The moon was bright enough to see her face, surrounded in a soft frame of thick wavy, naturally almost black locks. Her green eyes caught the light as they sat wide and almost innocent as she spanned over his chest and to their clasped hands. He leans his face down closer to her, his voice sweet and calm, trying to ease any nerves she had about getting close to him.

Her first thought when being taken into his arms was boy, is he bigger up close. But the quick second was realizing how close they’d been already. They’d slept skin to skin, nestled like little bunnies together and she hadn’t had a problem with it. So why was standing close and holding his hand erupting a fire in her stomach that threatened to bubble up and out of her throat with words that took away from the moment? It was like when bypassing her mind, her words changed from yes, I want this, to, did you know that when this song was recorded- putting up her wall to keep her from getting too close. But there was nothing to be afraid of at this point. He’d proven himself on all fronts. He was one of her best friends so quickly it threw her off her game, she didn’t bond quickly with people, she didn’t attract good men who helped their friends and cared about other people. Why was all this happening now?

With AlGreen lending him the mood, he keeps her close, looking down curiously as she looked thoughtful but almost frightened. “Thought you might want a dance.” he speaks, making her look up at him. “It’s all you bothered me about down there, thought you might want to show me a thing or two when it isn’t pouring rain outside.” he offers with a soft smile.

“Or getting electrocuted.” she adds and he feels her take a deep breath, her posture straightening and watching her come back to herself slowly. “Need to slow dance properly.” she almost mumbles, but he’s close enough and observant enough to catch the words. His choice of song isn’t lost on her. “Good one to do though.” she offers with big eyes that catch the moon and shine, making him sigh and only nod in response. He moves his hips to the beat and hers follow suit naturally. “You’re better this time.” she praises.

“Good teacher.” he says with a kind smile.

“Oh. Go on.” she looks down and chuckles nervously.

“Maybe I will.” he speaks low and pulls her closer.

She has to respond so she closes her mouth and blushes. The moments build, the last push in Tired of Being Alone, the vocals screech and he moves them fast in a circle, causing the tension to break as she squeaks much to his delight and he moves his hips and shoulders faster. “Keep up Bells.” he laughs, she does she as she throws her head back for a moment, the song fades fast, her head falling to his chest and she chuckles at how nervous she is. But it wasn’t any match for the next song. One of her mom’s favorites she’d sing to her father when they were being sickly sweet with each other. Natural Woman by Aretha, a song that could move even the most stubborn heart. And Bella was no exception. From the get she knows she’s doomed. Or would it be blessed at this point? Maybe it was a sign. One of those moments her mom told her about. When the universe just tapped you on the head and said, pay attention girl. So that’s what she did. She danced with the one man to make her feel anything since she was young to the song her parents slow danced to when she was young, thinking she wasn’t awake, peeping down the hall to see them swaying in the living room. The string section builds her confidence and takes a deep breath and does what she really wants for the first time in a long, long time.

She looks up at him and gives a little smile, finding him already watching her intently, his face as dark and calm as the sky behind it. She bows back and puts her back to his chest, swaying with both hands interlocked in his for a moment, placing them across her stomach, and she felt no resistance from him. He even bent his knees like she told him, feeling his nose in her hair as it brushed close to her ear. This was how this should've gone at the festival, this was the way they were dancing before and now without a cloud in the sky, there wouldn't be any interruptions.

From his vantage point he watches her shut her eyes, her chin up and head rested on him, one hand rubbing over his, a slow and smooth ascent up her own body, fingertips grazing her neck, pushing her hair out of the way before it snakes up and touches his face. With eyes still closed she turns her head towards his, he can feel her heartbeat racing under his palms. Her fingers are soft and light up his jaw and into his hair. He shivers at the touch, an almost grunt coming from him, putting his head even closer to hers. He wasn’t going to pass up another invitation when she was so boldly presenting it. The words ring too true, and she knows she has to face what she’s doing. She has to be the one to do it, because he’s too good too.

When she opens her eyes he’s already there, looking down at her with his deep, dark brown eyes. A heavy brow almost hiding them if the moon hadn’t been so full. With a brief flutter of lashes at how handsome he really could be so close up, she looks to his lips. His parted just as hers were, trying to calmly get more air as their heart demanded more of them as their pulses raised. As the song rolls into Percy Sledge smoothly, they both know there’s no turning back this time. Nothing to break them apart except themselves, and neither wanted to. A melodic organ he feels in his chest, this’ll be it.

He watches the lump in her throat bob and he smiles, grazing his nose against hers and feels her body give a little shudder when he got close. The air is thick and tense, the night air hot only around them, the moon and stars the only witnesses to what felt like such a monumental moment for both of them. With her head twisted, chin lifted to meet him as close to the middle as she could, they share one more glance between them, a final chance to bail and neither take it. Back down to their lips their eyes move, sharing a breath, his hand moving up to her face, as hers still rested in his hair. They break on the blare of a horn, both their breathing halted with the warmth that washes over them all the way down to their toes.

What starts as one press of lips, almost chaste with his rough fingers against her smooth jaw grows deeper, turn after turn of their mouths, until Bella can’t stand it any longer. With a tiny whimper, the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, she turns in his arms, only parting for a moment and in a flash he runs cold, afraid the moments gone before she crashes her lips back into his, hands on his chest and the other in his hair, he gives over to her, leaning back against the bike, arms moving tightly around her to hold her close between his legs, splayed fingers working lower than they ever had before to her hips and between her shoulder blades, not wanting to even catch his breath as her arms slide around his neck.

They could’ve stayed like that forever. They both wanted to. This perfect moment, him surrounded by nature and her picking the soundtrack to her life was something they both wanted to hold on to for as long as possible. Her chest felt like it was full of fire, the butterflies in her stomach only fanning it with the rapid assault of their wings. Her fingertips tingled, only feeling warmth where he touched her, feeling the press of his impressive hands against her body under her jacket. His lips were softer than they seemed for a man that looked like him. The strong cupids bow and pinked color they natural held were always hidden at least in part by his facial hair, but she was getting to experience the full breadth of them tonight.

The kisses turn softer, more lips, more breathing, and her hands move to his rising and falling chest. With closed eyes still living in the blissful moment, their foreheads rest together as they take a few breaths. Wow, they both almost said. Few kisses felt like that one had. Some might never experience it. A painfully strong mutual attraction based on more than aesthetics. Built on friendship and trust and months of earning a place in each other's lives. It was real and raw and those things felt so rare for both of them.

“I can’t believe I waited so long to do that.” she eventually whispers, eyes still shut as her breaking the silence between them makes his eyes open to see her eyes flutter, half-lidded and pupils blown, fingertips light and shakey on the thin material of his shirt.

“You did it at the perfect time.” he coos back.

“Ugh.” a hand moving up to push back his hair as she beams up at him. “You’re so nice. Sweet, I mean.” she shakes her head, still trying to get the blood to flow to it and not the other brain that was shouting orders at her she was ignoring. “And… patient.” she adds with a huff of a laugh.

“Worth it.” he grins, kissing her cheek, the warmth flooding her all over again.

“Can we just... do more of that?” she lets out a girlish giggle he’s never heard, her head falling into his chest as her shoulders shake. She brings her head back up, shaking the hair out of her face and tracing her thumb over his cheek. “I’m so rusty at this.” she admits and he sees no shame or hesitation in her eyes now, only brightness.

“We can do as much of that as you want.” he kisses her softly. “And you don’t feel rusty to me.” he purrs back against her lips, eyes dark under a relaxed brow as she hummed happily.

“Not bad yourself, Harp.” she nudges her nose to his and smiles into a kiss, a content sigh shared as a kiss grows again. It felt so good, so right, just like she hoped it would. Just liked it should she thinks. He was so hot and pliant to the touch, a small lick of her tongue to his bottom lip makes his nostrils flare, a slow and teasing exchange between them. He bites on her full bottom lip and her eyes roll back in her head, a heavy sigh escaping her. She sucks on his after he releases it with a pop, her tongue moving to explore his own as they shared a more messy kiss, one that was clearly doing something for him as his hands ventured lower. He finally got his hands on that ass of hers, her letting out a little moan as he gave it a slight squeeze.

“Too far?” he asks, still learning the origin of her noises.

She answers by moving up into his lap, thighs on either side of him and shaking her head, putting his hands back where they had been. “No.” she answers before another wrestling kiss forms. Even with the advantage of being on him, he was still not taller than her. This was new for her as well, she’d never been a man this tall this... big. All over big. Or at least she hoped the hard place resting between her thighs was growing proof of that. Her hands slip under his jacket at the shoulders, far past her own in width and she moans as how hard he is under her hands. She greedily explores the planes of him, and he does the same. Hands down his chest to a stomach that was almost hard, fingertips pressed into shoulder blades that shifted as he easily picked her up to resituate her. Which she really didn’t mind at all. In fact she thought she might’ve found a new kink. No man she’d been with had even been strong enough to pick her up and throw her around so to speak, and literally. Her mind was full of racing ideas for him.

They kiss like teens at a make-out point as she’d teased upon arrival. Moans and pants exchanged against now swollen and wet lips, tongue in and outside of mouths as they explored what worked and didn’t, and so far there wasn’t a thing that didn’t feel good. It all felt too good and that was another problem entirely. One of those good problems she’d always heard about but never had herself.

She felt like taking her tits out of her dress, him getting those shapely lips on them and grinding on him until they both came. But she didn’t. She’d like to say she knew better, but she didn’t. She only knew not to go too fast, which is where she’d been burned before. “I know we have to stop at some point. But I don’t want to.” she half moans into a lippy and loud kiss.

He smiles against her. “I know babe. I know.” he groans and moves his hand back up to her waist. Hers on his jaw, thumbs swiping over the short sides of his beard as she kissed the corners of his mouth, the tip of his nose, wanting to feel every part of him against her lips.

“Mmph. That’s nice.” he hums with closed eyes and continues to his cheeks, that masculine brow, over the scar that lies there and one to his forehead.

“You’re very, very kissable.” she giggles, nuzzling his face with her nose. Touching him felt like a drug.

“So you are. Among...other things.” his nostrils flare as she bites her lip at him.

“Will there be time for that later?” she whispers, an almost naughty turn to her words.

“All the time you want.” he raises his brow, his voice deep with grit and hunger.

“How about we make time for it?” she asks, fingers into his beard and scratching, wanting to take in as much of him as she could.

“Mmm?” he asks, grunting as a response to her question and to the affection.

“We should make time. We’re both busy, I don’t want to go another week without seeing you... without... this.” she coos and kisses him softly.

“Then let’s do it. Let me take you out. A real date.”

“Oh, a real one huh?” she teases, kissing his cheek.

“Yeah. We’ll go downtown, meat, and wine the whole thing. Wine and dine.” he says playfully.

“Wine dine and...sixty nine?” she asks before her nose wrinkles and her face falls into a giggle.

“Like I said, whatever you want babe.” he grins.

Please leave a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed this! It makes me want to write more of what you want if you let me know!

@vale0413 @littledeadgirlwalking @jaegeeeeer @phillipkopusimagines-and-stuff @mjolnir96 @xmother-mortemx @this-isnt-madness  @thors-hair-extensions @divadinag

[sufferlessgrowmore]

Here We Are In The Future: A Few Words About My Week (And Steven Universe The Movie)

So I’ve got good news and better news.

The good news is: I *did* finish reading An Unquiet Mind (on Monday).

The better news is: I also got to watch the premiere of Steven Universe The Movie!

A few words, right off the bat: It was delightful.

A few more words:

Steven Universe is one of my favorite shows on television. Since roughly the end of its first season, I’ve been a diehard fan of this magical and musical adventure, for a variety of reasons. For one, it’s incredibly sweet. Centering itself on the adventures of an unconventional family of superpowered beings known as the Crystal Gems, Steven Universe is a show that is first and foremost about love, in its many forms. For another thing, it is emotionally intelligent in a way that few shows of any genre can match. Its characters deal with hardship, inter- (and intra-personal) conflict, feelings of alienation, loss and self-doubt and solve more of their problems through talking than through punching.

The last and probably hugest factor contributing to my love of the show is the music. Whether we’re talking the varied orchestrations of Aivi and Surasshu or the lyrical works of showrunner Rebecca Sugar, Steven Universe is a show that lives and dies (but mostly lives) by its music. After 5 seasons of occasionally, but not indulgently breaking into song, Steven and his friends finally got a chance to live out a full-fledged movie musical.

Steven Universe The Movie, in addition to being an elegant and enjoyable next step in Steven’s journey, is in many ways an homage to the many great musicals that have graced the silver screen across the ages. From its opening, expository credits sequence--sung angelically by the former members of the Diamond Authority (Christine Ebersole, Lisa Hannigan and Patti LuPone)--to its forays into a myriad of musical genres, the soundtrack to Steven Universe The Movie has something for just about every emotion and taste. 

The sounds are well complimented by the visuals, which benefit from a cinematic budget in more ways than one. An early sequence, featuring probably the stand-out number in a film filled with stand-out numbers, sees the Gems facing off against the film’s antagonist, and the resulting battle flows at an expressively break-neck pace that no episode of the show has been able to match. In true Steven tradition, the film’s primary thrust is not the seeking of escalating violent conflict, but when a fight does break out, the animation team does an excellent job of bringing the boarders’ visions to life.

The trouble with many musicals is that when you take away the music, you are left with very little story to speak of. The writers of Steven Universe are used to using dialogue to good effect, and not every scene needs song and dance to convey its message or solve its conflict. However, many key moments in the film’s story are amplified by the musical number at its heart. “Independent Together,” which punctuates probably the biggest fan-service moment of the film, is one example. “Other Friends,” performed by newcomer Sarah Stiles, is another, serving as a character introduction, a villain song and a powerful engine for one of my favorite scenes.

Episodes of the show are, for the most part, only eleven minutes long, so Sugar and her song-writing collaborators are used to packing a lot of story into relatively small musical packages. Given they have a run time of a feature film to work with, one would think more songs would be the length of lead single “True Kinda Love” or energetic opener, “Happily Ever After,” but some of the movie’s most memorable and poignant tunes are only a minute or so long. An intimate number late in the film, “Found,” is over nearly as soon as it begins, but it sticks in the heart so easily that when it is reprised at the film’s conclusion, one can’t help but crack a smile. 

There are a few mysterious elements left even after repeat viewings that are less theoretical in nature and more nit-picky--how to explain the speed of the antagonist’s arrival to Earth and the method she used to procure her most threatening weapon among them--but the film, like the show, is less about mechanics and more about “truth,” emotional and otherwise. And the truth is, Steven Universe The Movie is more than many fans could have asked for. It doesn’t do the messy work of showing Steven take the Diamonds to task for their tyrannical actions in the past, nor does it take time to visit every tertiary character in the show’s history--but it is made with such artistry, love and heart that you can’t begrudge it for staying focused on what matters. In the case of Steven Universe, what matters is that the characters we’ve known and loved are still just as precious as we remember them, not because they’ve remained static, but because they’ve grown and changed. And as for the character’s we’re just getting to know, it seems they’re on their way to doing the same.

More on my students later this week.

Life will pass through, keep being you.

Sincerely, MM

[richrubies]

Back Stage II: Foolish Enough (GD x Reader)

Warning: idk violence? foul language, angst, bullshit ex boyfriends do

‘How long?’ you asked quietly as you leaned against the wall of the now—empty dressing room. Young-bae had led everyone away from the room moments ago, bitterly taking Kiko with them as they went.

Jiyong refused to meet your eye as he replied, scratching the back of his head, ‘Not long…We ran into each other last month when I was in America.’

‘And so?’ you prompted, your voice quivering.

Jiyong’s shot up from where he sat at his vanity, and defended, ‘But we didn’t do anything, I swear to God, Y/N?’

‘Just because you don’t sleep with someone, doesn’t mean you don’t want them, Jiyong,’ you tell him quietly.

You prayed for him to deny it. To tell you that it wasn’t anything serious, that they were just old friends that had seen each other after so long.

But it never came. And if it did, you wouldn’t have believed it anyway. You saw him on stage. You saw the same longing that he used to have for you.

Jiyong’s heart had been moved by Kiko’s reappearance in his life.

You thought you would cry, or at least scream, but all that came out was a pathetic sigh. Pushing yourself off of the wall, you moved around the room and collected the few balloons that your friends had managed to inflate, along with the bags that the items came in. Sighing, you look at Jiyong who remain seated with his head hung low, and muttered, ‘Bye, G-Dragon.’

As you left the room, Jiyong called your name, asking you to wait whilst he remained where he sat, which was all you needed to know. He wanted you to wait; for you to meet his needs.

But you’d grown tired of doing that, and so you walked further away even as tears fell down your face.

~*~

It took months for the articles to relent.

G-Dragon spotted with Kiko! Old flames reignited?

Relationship between Korean Idol GD and Japanese Model Kiko, confirmed!

Marriage on the cards, says Kiko in an exclusive interview

Pregnancy speculation between GD and Kiko – is the prince of KPop about to be born?

It’d been eight months since your break up, and new articles were released so often that you’d nearly given up on reading and watching the news just to avoid Jiyong’s face.

You’d flown back to Korea three days after the back-stage confrontation, having decided to spend your holiday doing what you wanted to originally do, minus the boyfriend part of course. You didn’t receive any texts from Jiyong other than one telling you that he was sorry, and that he loves you, but he just wasn’t ready for your relationship.

Not ready for a relationship my ass, you scoffed at the memory.

You’d thrown yourself into your work once you’d returned. The first thing you’d done, however, was change all the locks and passwords to your home and office.

You had to be grateful to Jiyong in a way, however. Knowing and loving him had bought many amazing people in to your life, including a lot of the YG family. Hyorin and Young-bae had supported you more than you could ever have expected, and in return, you had played a large role in organizing their wedding.

You were a manager and designer who specialized in private events; so together with your favourite couple, you’d spent the last three months planning their wedding, perfecting the details and catering to their every need.

Currently, you were sat in your work-shop office which sat on balcony of the second floor, overlooking the rest of the office where several other employees were; Hyorin’s wedding board was sat in the centre of the room amongst many others, covered in images and details which you had gradually built together.

‘So, everything is ready to go?’ Hyorin asked excitedly.

You nod with a grin, ‘We just have to confirm the seating plans and guests so that we know how many heads to cater for; as well as for the gift bags,’

Hyorin nodded and pulled out her diary and began to rattle off the changes that had been made to the guest list. It wasn’t until you’d nearly wrapped up the meeting, that Hyorin asked, ‘Have you seen the headlines?’

‘Which one? I stopped looking a few weeks ago,’ you ask absentmindedly as you shifted through your binder book dedicated to the upcoming wedding.

‘GD and Kiko split up.’

You froze momentarily before continuing to shift your papers around, looking up at Hyorin, ‘Did Young-bae confirm it?’

Hyorin nodded, sighing, ‘He was up most of the night talking with Jiyong about it when it happened. He said it was bound to happen. They’re not meant to be together. They’re too similar.’

‘Similarity is a bad thing?’ you ask with an eyebrow raised.

‘Not always…But Jiyong needs stability in a world that’s continuously rocking, and Kiko isn’t able to provide that for him when she herself is continuously on the move.’

You nodded in understanding, and countered, ‘I guess she’s off the list as well, huh?’

Hyorin snorted but nodded in agreement, wondering as to how you could keep your composure after all that you went through because of both Jiyong and Kiko.

~*~

The venue had been styled to perfection, and you couldn’t have thanked your team enough for all of the effort that they had put into preparing for the wedding. You’d handed over the manager’s headset to one of your colleagues so that you could enjoy the wedding with your friends, which was what led you to be walking in to the room with your arm wrapped around Mino’s.

‘Wow,’ Mino complimented, ‘This is amazing!’

You grinned, squeezing his arm lightly, ‘Did I do a good job?’

‘You can plan my wedding,’ Mino tells you in response, a grin on his face. Seungri had offered to be your date for the wedding, but you had preferred to go with Mino, seeing as you were the same age and had become friends through working together on the stage sets. Plus, it meant you wouldn’t be stuck around GD if you went with him.

You’d even matched to Mino’s outfit, wearing a thin-strapped navy-blue dress that hugged your figure, with white lace tracing along the lowcut neckline and bottom of the skirt that ended mid-calf.

‘It’ll cost you,’ you tell him playfully as you found people to conversate with as you waited for the bride and groom to enter the room.

Sipping on a sweet alcoholic-free drink, you watched as Seungri entered, along-side his friends and band members. He spotted you almost immediately, leaving both Seunghyun and Daesung to rush over and hug you tightly.

‘What’s going on?’ you laugh as he held you, ‘We saw each other at the ceremony!’

‘I’m just happy to see you, is all, it’s been so long,’ he tells you honestly, looking down at the outfit that you’d previously hidden behind a coat, ‘Yah, you look amazing.’

Mino joined you both and bowed respectively. Seungri clapped his back, ‘You’re lucky to have a date like our Y/N,’ he turns to you with narrowed eyes, ‘I can’t believe you rejected me for my junior.’

Laughing, you apologize, ‘Sorry 오빠, I’ll be your date to the next wedding.’

He rolled his eyes, ‘That’ll be in another twenty years at this rate!’

You hadn’t noticed Jiyong sidle up to your conversation, but there he stood, as handsome and shameless as ever.

‘Seunghyun-형 wants you,’ GD tells Seungri, ignoring your presence.

Awkwardly, Seungri nodded. His eyes shifting between you two as he stuttered out, ‘Ah…Okay…I’ll see you in a bit, Y/N! Save me a dance!’

Nodding, you waved him away as Jiyong dragged him towards where Top was sitting, looking as uncomfortable as ever.

Mino cleared the uncomfortable air by muttering, ‘Let’s go eat some of the snacks, huh?’

~*~

As the night wore on and your feet had begun to hurt from the amount of dancing, you found yourself sitting on one of the chairs near the bar, watching over the guests with a smile. The couple were in the throng of it all, happily swaying with the guests. They really did make a beautiful pair.

You hadn’t seen Jiyong for a while; come to think of it, you hadn’t seen Seungri or Daesung either. As you thought this, a deep and familiar voice interrupted you.

‘Y/N.’

Looking up, you smiled at Top, ‘Seung-hyun 오빠!’

You hadn’t had the chance to talk to him all night, not with many of the other guests crowding him, excited to see him for the first time in months.

‘Have you been well?’ he asked in his low tone, a small smile on his lips.

‘Mm. I’ve been well,’ you tell him honestly as he sat beside you. ‘How have you been holding up?’

You ask in reference of the scandals and articles that had been released over the last few months.

‘Well…It’s bearable,’ he tells you with a shrug, sipping on his drink.

‘You look well, at least,’ you tell him, ‘That’s a relief. I was worried about you. Did you not get my messages?’

‘How are you still so kind after what our friend did to you?’ he blurts out suddenly.

You couldn’t help but shrink back from his intense stare and shrugged, ‘It was Jiyong who did me wrong. Not you, or Ri, or any of the others. I shouldn’t put that responsibility on you.’

‘Not even if I knew about it?’ he asked quietly.

‘Did you know about it?’ you ask with a hint of disappointment.

He nodded in response. Your shoulders fell but before you could say anything else, your colleague emerged from the side-lines of the event and approached you with haste, trying her best to remain calm as she strode purposefully to your position.

‘What’s wrong?’ you ask immediately, standing from your seat and ignoring Top who followed your movement.

You knew from the look that she gave, that something had gone wrong. Nodding to Seunghyun, you excused yourself and followed Sunny out of the venue and into a private room.

‘What’s going on?’ you ask, looking around.

‘It’s Mr. Kwon,’ she tells you, ‘He’s trashed the leaving vehicle that the couple are meant to be leaving in, in less than 40 minutes!’

‘What?’

‘There’s no problem in getting a new one in, I’ve already taken the necessary steps.’

‘So, what is the problem?’

‘He’s still in the garage and he refuses to come out. Mr. Lee and Kang are with him now, and they said not to involve any security in case a reporter gets wind of it.’

You scowled, before kicking off the god-forsaken heels you wore, and taking the spare walkie-talkie that Sunny was carrying.

‘I’ll deal with it. Make sure you get team one to replace all of the décor for the car, and our cleaning crew on standby for when I get that psychopath out of the room,’ you tell her, the authority and tone of your experience coming to light, ‘And make sure no one suspects a thing. This information can’t be shared with anyone. I don’t want to ruin Young-bae and Hyorin’s wedding.’

Sunny nodded, and set herself to work, whilst you left the room and marched towards the venue’s private parking garage where you had had the car stored earlier in the evening.

After following a series of corridors, you found yourself eye-to-eye with Daesung, who looked just as tussled and frustrated as you.

‘What’s going on?’ you ask him, catching him by surprise as he guarded the door.

Without hesitation, Daesung tells you, ‘He’s drunk and pissed off.’

‘So, he’s got more than one problem and he’s decided to take his frustration out on everything else?’ you say dead-pan, knowing exactly what this meant. You could hear the smashing and crashing from within, along with Seungri trying to control Jiyong.

Daesung nodded whilst you sighed, ‘Let me in. I’ll deal with it.’

‘I wouldn’t…’

‘Move,’ you tell him again, ‘I’m just as pissed off as Jiyong. I can handle it.’

Daesung nodded, ‘Be careful.’

You gave him a quick smile to reassure him before opening the door and finding yourself face-to-face with the car Jiyong had just finished taking to with a bat. The ground was covered in glass, and there were dents all throughout the one side of the car that you could see.

Jesus Christ.

Seungri stood in the corner of the room with a busted lip, looking dishevelled whilst Jiyong stood on the opposite side of the room with his back to you, one hand clenched into a fist, and the other clutching a bottle of top-shelf liquor.

Without a word, you moved towards Seungri and grabbed his face, gently holding it as he looked away from Jiyong and at you in surprise.

‘What are you doing here?’

You brushed a thumb over his lip with a frown, testing whether it was bad enough for him to need medical attention. He hissed, ‘Yah.’

‘Are you okay?’ you ask, attempting to straighten out his outfit and gently petting his arms to soothe him.

‘I’m fine. You shouldn’t be here,’ Seungri tells you quietly.

‘Why?’ Jiyong interrupts with a slur, causing you both to jump in surprise, ‘Are you worried that I’ll hurt her?’

Seungri moved to lurch forward, but was stopped by your arms, ‘It’s okay. You need to get out of here. I’ll deal with this.’

‘But,’ Seungri started, only to stop when you shook your head, ‘Trust me. I’ll be fine.’

Leading Seungri out of the door before closing it, you looked toward Jiyong who was now leaning against the car he’d just ruined, watching you with narrowed eyes.

‘You have them all under your thumb, huh?’

‘What?’ you ask from the other side of the room.

Jiyong moved forward a few steps, ‘Mino, Seungri, Young-bae. They’re all at your beck and call,’ he spits out.

‘They’re my friends.’ You tell him blatantly.

‘They were mine first.’

‘If Young-bae is your friend, why are you trying to ruin his wedding?’

‘I’m not trying to rui–‘

‘Then what the fuck are you doing in here?’ you ask him venomously, ‘Having a tea party?’

Jiyong blinked in surprise at your sudden anger.

‘How dare you try and ruin his day! You have fucking issues, Jiyong, we get it, but don’t drag anyone else down on your way out!’

Jiyong’s nostrils flared, ‘That’s right! I have issues! And you’re one of the biggest ones! You left me!’

You laugh bitterly, ‘Grow up Jiyong. You stayed where you wanted to be and I didn’t. That’s the difference between you and I.’

Jiyong had no response; not that you gave him a chance to find one, anyway, ‘You’re the one who got in to a relationship and moved on, so how dare you stand there after eight months and tell me that I’m one of your issues!’

‘Kiko and I…We broke up…For good this time.’ Jiyong tells you as he walked closer, the glass crunching under his shoes.

‘Congratulations,’ you tell him sarcastically.

‘I’m sorry for what I did to you,’ Jiyong continues, stopping so that he was only a foot away, ‘My heart wavered…but after seeing you tonight…All of those old feelings came rushing back…I couldn’t even look at you without wanting to kis–‘

He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before your hand reached out and slapped him across the cheek, a loud crack echoing from the power of your hit, you yelled, ‘You’re a fucking pig, Jiyong. Do you think that I’m easy? That you can waltz back in to my life and tell my sweet nothings like the good old days? You made your choice that day. Live with it!’

The door swung open and Seungri looked at you with worry after hearing the sound of the slap and your raised tone, ‘Y/N! Are you okay?’

Ignoring Seungri, you angrily point your finger at Jiyong, ‘Three things are going to happen from now on Jiyong. One. You’re going to get out of this room so that my team can take care of the mess you’ve made. Two. You’re going to wash your face and go back into that wedding and pretend this shit never happened. Three. You’re not going to speak about this to anyone, especially not Young-bae. Is that clear?’

Still in shock from your hit that surely sobered him up, Jiyong stumbled towards the door airily, allowing Daesung to drag him down the hall as he looked over his shoulder at you.

You’d changed, he thought as he rounded the corner, you’d gotten much better at fighting against him. Unlike before when you’d argue, those words of finding you attractive would cause you to melt into him and you would give in to him easily. Now...now you were someone he barely even knew.

As you stood, chest heaving, attempting to not let any tears fall, Seungri murmured, ‘Crazy son of a bitch…Yah! Your feet are bleeding! Where are your shoes?’

Without responding, you spoke into your walkie-talkie, ‘Send in the cleaning crew and make sure that Jiyong is presentable before letting him back in. I’ll also need someone to take care of Seungri.’

‘What’s wrong with me?’ Seungri asks confused as you calmed yourself down enough to respond, ‘You’ve got a split lip and a bit of bruising is beginning to show.’

‘Yah…Your feet are probably much worse than my lip! Come on, I’ll carry you there, you might have glass in your feet…Ah this crazy girl!’

~*~

The rest of the wedding went on without any issues. Jiyong played his part and clapped happily, dancing with whoever asked, and put on a façade that even you had to watch in awe.

Seungri remained glued to your side, keeping a watchful eye on you as the night continued, taking over Mino’s role as a date, which you were grateful for, seeing as you didn’t want to ruin Mino’s night.

When it came to send off the couple, Seungri wrapped his arm around your waist and attempted to carry a majority of your weight whilst making it look natural.

You hissed under your breath a few times from the stinging of the now-bandaged cuts, but managed to put on a smile and wave to the oblivious couple as they marched down the stairs of the venue and into the shining new vehicle that had replaced the one Jiyong had totalled.

After a while, the crowd dispersed and the reception ended with you sitting on the front steps, leaning against Seungri as you looked down at your feet – it was funny how you hadn’t even noticed the pain as you had rushed to Seungri’s side and now you wished whole-heartedly that you still couldn’t feel it.

‘I’ll take you home,’ Seungri tells you with a nod whilst you attempted to protest that you were okay, ‘At least then, I can make sure you’re home safely.’

It became evident that you couldn’t fight him on this one, and so you nodded your head gratefully while waiting for Seungri’s driver to pull around.

~*~

Your apartment building was in sight as you attempted to walk on your own two feet. It took all of ten seconds before Seungri scoffed and bent to scoop you up, ‘No offence, Y/N, but it’s been a really long day, and you’re going to take forever to get to your apartment like this, so I’ll just carry you instead.’

Rolling your eyes, you let him carry you into the building and onto the elevator, pushing for the 27th floor.

As soon as Seungri stepped off of the lift, he froze, bringing your drowsy attention to the figure leaning against your front door with his head hanging low.

Jiyong looked up at the sound of the elevator, and his eyes narrowed at the position you and Seungri were in.

‘Just ignore him,’ you tell Seungri, and so he did, marching to your door and pushing in the code whilst Jiyong watched.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked as Seungri kicked open the door and stepped inside, shutting it on Jiyong’s face, ‘Yah! How dare you ignore your 형!’

The banging on the door continued, up until the point that Seungri had set you down a glass of water and some pain-killers.

‘I’d better get going.’

‘Thanks for helping me,’ you tell him earnestly.

‘You know that we all have your back, Y/N. Make sure to put ointment on your feet!’

‘Mm,’ you respond as you waved him off from the couch.

As soon as the apartment door had opened and closed, you could hear the two arguing out front of the door.

‘What were you doing in there, huh?’

‘I had to bring her home,’ came Seungri’s reply.

‘Why were you carrying her like that?’ Jiyong questioned.

‘Because her feet are covered in cuts! From the glass you smashed! Honestly, 형 ! Don’t you think you’ve done enough? Don’t you think you’ve hurt her enough?’

‘She’s hurt?’

You’d crawled to the door at this point, struggling to stand before you swung open the door to glare at Jiyong, ‘When it comes to you, Jiyong, I’m always hurt. Now get the hell away from my apartment before I call security.’

Slamming the door shut on his stunned face and Seungri who had already turned and walked away, you sunk to the floor and let out a quiet sob.

It was true. You were always hurt when it came to him; because he’d betrayed you, because he’d never chased you when you walked away; you were hurt because he saw you as someone foolish enough to listen to his bullshit and accept it immediately.

Most of all, you were hurt because he never left your heart, not even for a second.

WELL

HERE’S PART TWO

I DON’T KNOW WHERE I’M GOING WITH THIS

BUT Y’KNOW

WE’LL FIGURE IT OUT ON THE WAY

Part one is here

Requests are open! Please read the rules and character list before sending in ya guilty pleasures!

Master list is here

Rules are here

Characters are here

[cocobaek]

Crossfire | 06

Bodyguard AU!

Pairing: Namjoon x reader

Genre: Angst (more so in later chapters) | Fluff | Slow burn

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Violence | Swearing

Previous Chapter: 05                                               Next Chapter: 07

It had been a week and a bit since the incident, and thankfully nothing remotely similar had occurred. Telling Jungkook had proven to be the right move, not just for my protection but for my sanity. Having another person bar Namjoon to talk to about it was very refreshing. Especially due to the face Namjoon and I weren't sure where we stood. Nothing else had happened since the night he spent in my room, hell, we hadn't even slightly talked about it, or the kiss, or any of the unprofessional words we had shared. However, it wasn't as uncomfortable as I expected it to be. Days just flowed on rather mundanely, especially seeing as summer school exams came and went within those few days. It was the first day of my actual uni break, and the peaceful morning was interrupted by Namjoon's phone ringing. "Mm, sorry," he quickly apologised as he swallowed the mouth full of food he had as quickly as he could. "Sir," he answered. I had forgotten how formal he could be, but this phone call quickly reminded me. "ok, we can be there soon," he said, but seemed to be interrupted. "Sir- Sir with all due respect I don't think that's the best op-" his face went stern. "I understand, I will be there shortly.. Bye" He hung up and placed his phone on the table with a groan. I watched him drag his hands through his sandy blonde hair. "What is it?" I asked, regarding his reaction carefully. "I need to meet with your father," he said. I raised my eyebrow, "he's not in town though?" Namjoon nodded, "I know, it's why I'm not too thrilled with him ordering me to leave you here." "He what!" I said, already feeling the anxious feeling grow. "They have a lead on the man in black, he wants me to look it over in person, and to meet your brother." I shook my head, "no! Shouldn't I come too? I mean, I was the one who saw him!" Namjoon shrugged, "I would think so too, but he wants you here, something about keeping you out of the public eye." I looked down at my food angrily. I had just started feeling good enough to go out again, things were feeling normal, and that was being changed again. "Hey," he said softly, bringing my focus back up to him, "I'll text Jungkook, he'll stick by I'm sure." He smiled, taking in my unsure expression. "It'll be ok, you have my number, if anything worries you I can sort something else out." I nodded. Nothing would really make me happy with this arrangement but it had to happen. "Jungkook is on his way," he looked back to me. "Are you going to say anything?" I was rather flattered that he was concerned, but too worried to care any more than that. "When will you be back?" I asked. "End of the day, hopefully," he said, standing up to begin organising his things. He continued to glance back at me. "There's something else," he said, "come on, you can tell me." I took in a deep breath, "it's stupid, I'm just worrying too much." He came and stood beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder, "I won't judge, you'll keep worrying otherwise." I swallowed and finally looked up to meet his eyes. "If he's getting you to meet Tae... I don't know, I'm just worried he'll get you to stay with him and you won't come back." I watched him inhale deeply, letting those words sink in. Next thing I knew, he was crouching, matching my height so he could look directly into my eyes. "I'm coming back [y/n]," he said, no hint of doubt in his voice, "there's no way I would just leave you." There it was, the look I had missed. He wore the same expression that he did that night. A mixture of worry, and something I couldn't quite pinpoint. "Besides, I don't think anyone else would be bale to handle you," he said with a smirk, standing up, bringing the moment with him. "ok, yeah, sorry," I said, feeling like a bit on an idiot now. He smiled again and went back to his stuff.

It was only a few more minutes before Jungkook arrived. He shared a few words with Namjoon before he looked back to me. "It's going to be fine [y/n], i'll be back before you know it." I nodded, ignoring the pit in my stomach when he left the room. "Have no faith in me?" Jungkook asked, plonking down next to me on the couch. "It's not that at all Kook," I laughed, "I'm just use to having him around, I don't need to worry about anything." Jungkook raised his eyebrow with a smirk. "And that's the only reason?" "Pardon?" "You're not gonna miss him because you've been spending long, passionate nights with him." I slapped his arm, "stop it! You know that's not true!" "You may be right... but you want it to be true," he laughed, knowing very well he'd get another smack for that comment. "Hey!" he said, rubbing his arm, "you can't blame me for telling the truth." I rolled my eyes, leaning back fully. "But in all seriousness, are you really bothered with him not being here?" I looked own at my hands. "I'm just anxious.. Nothing has really gone wrong with him around." "I mean, I would consider being chased around campus by a lunatic something going wrong," he said, before quickly taking in my expression. "Sorry, too soon?" I smiled and shook my head, "it's ok, don't worry Kook." I tucked some hair behind my ears, "I guess I'm just not use to him being here ya know?" Jungkook reached over and slung an arm around my shoulder. "We'll be fine, i'll get you to forget all this bad stuff." I raised an eyebrow, "Kook, what have you planned?" He flashed a cheeky grin, "nothing yet, but Hobi gets back today and you have a free place?" He brought his voice up at the end of his question. I chuckled, "you're a mess you know that?" "Hey! I just like to enjoy myself, I wouldn't say that means I'm a mess, and you can't pretend you're any better," he said, "so what do you say? Drinks here tonight?" I always found it hard to say no to Jungkook, and he did have a point, I had been so caught up with everything that I had forgotten what it was like to be a 'regular' girl again. "Yeah, why not," I said, laughing as Jungkook pumped his fist enthusiastically. He quickly began texting away on his phone, planning every detail. As this was all happening, I felt my own phone vibrate and couldn't help but smile. Jimin had text me. Much to my surprise, Jimin hadn't run off after that embarrassing night, we had actually been talking a lot. Jimin-sii: 'How did your exam go?' I replied quickly. Pretty Lady: 'I think it went well? I hope it did anyway!' I hesitated, but sent a second message straight after. Pretty Lady: 'Hey, Hoseok is back today so Kook and I might have drinks tonight at mine, wanna come?' "Who're you texting so eagerly?" Jungkook asked, finally looking up from his phone. "Jimin." Jungkook sat up a bit straighter hearing my reply. "Still trying to bed you?" I raised an eyebrow, "bed me? What are you, 70?" "I said what I said." I rolled my eyes before shaking my head, "no, we talked about the other night, just friends is where we are staying now." Jimin-sii: 'Sounds fun! Count me in :)' "Well, he's coming tonight," I said. Jungkook nodded, "so is Hobi, I'll ask some people from class?" "Go for your life Kook."

The more we planned and talked about our up and coming night, the more I began looking forward to it, and the less I was thinking about Namjoon. Before we knew it, 7:00pm has hit, and my living room held Jungkook, Hoseok, Jimin, and 6 other uni friends, all providing a good distraction to the anxiousness I felt having not heard from Namjoon. "I'm, still so gutted I missed out on meeting your school friends!" Hoseok said with a groan. "They aren't as exciting as they are made out to be," Jimin said with a cheeky grin. Jungkook clapped Hoseok on the shoulder, "that's ok, you didn't miss much." "Apart from the biggest cock block of the year." I reached over and lightly hit Jimin's arm, earning a "What! it's true!" Hoseok's mouth flew open, "oh? do tell do tell," he glanced to me, "did you do something naughty?" I rolled my eyes at his boyish grin, "no, I didn't." "Cause they were interrupted," Jungkook managed to interject. Each comment only exciting Hoseok further. "By her cousin," Jimin said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. Only a hint. "Oh hoh hoh I have so many questions," he shuffled around and facing me fully, "you have to answer them though. No one else." I sighed, "ok Jung, shoot." "Who was the mystery man? Who is your cousin? Why isn't he here?" I glanced to Jimin for permission and he simply shrugged. "The boy was Jimin, my cousins name is Namjoon and he is at work," I fired back at the same speed. All the boys held a different expression at my honest confession of the boys name. Hoseok had his mouth wide open, Jungkook looked like a proud mother, and Jimin just looked smug, no one else was really listening to the conversation. "Well, count me excited to meet Namjoon," Hoseok said, flying past the fact Jimin and I hooked up. "He's a good dude, odd, but good," Jungkook nodded. "Oh, well I'm glad you approve of my family members," I smirked, sipping on my wine. Jungkook went to say something when we heard the door open. I smiled at the floor, trying not to look as excited to see Namjoon as I felt. The amount of alcohol I had ingested wasn't helping. Jungkook however, picked this up with his eagle eyes and smirked. "Speak of the devil," he said. I stood up from my spot on the floor and walked over to the door, feeling my heart flutter as I saw Namjoon, rather focused on untying his shoe. Man, was he a looker. "Welcome back," I said. "Yeah, thanks," he began, not looking up, "didn't talk as long as I-" His sentence trailed off when he looked up at me. I knew I wasn't imagining the surprised expression and felt a wave of confidence when I caught him very quickly look me up and down. "You look nice?" he questioned, before picking up on the other voices in the flat. "Yeah, Jungkook and I thought it would be ok to have our friends over?" Namjoon smiled slightly, "that's good, don't want you going too stir crazy." "And you were worried he was going to freak," Jungkook said, rounding he corner to join us at the door as Namjoon finally stoop up fully. "Well, no one likes coming home to an unexpected party," I tied to justify, but Namjoon waved me off. "It's ok [y/n], I'm not fussed," he said as he stepped into the lounge. Before he could get a good look at anyone, Jimin was already standing before him. "Hey man," Jimin said, a bit hesitantly, considering their last encounter. Namjoon smiled, extending his hand, "hey, sorry about last time, no hard feelings?" "Nah, we're cool," Jimin took his hand with a smile. I don't know what it was about this scene, but seeing Namjoon actually making an effort with my friends made me extremely happy. However, that didn't last once his small conversation with Jimin ended. His eyes scanned over the other faces around, but his body tensed as he landed on one in particular. Hoseok was now standing up, a hesitant smile on his face. Before he could even open his mouth to say anything, Namjoon rushed forward, grabbing the boy by the collar and slamming him into the wall. There were a few shouts, but no intervention from the other party goers. "What the fuck man! Jungkook shouted. "Namjoon let him go!" I also chimed in. Hoseok held out a hand, "no, guys it's cool," he said calmly, trying to defuse the situation. "What're you doing here?" Namjoon growled dangerously. Hoseok however didn't seem phased. "I go to school here man." "Bullshit you do!" he shoved him roughly once more. "Namjoon!" I stepped forward. No matter how much I trusted him, I wasn't standing by while he roughed up one of my best friends. "Stop it! Put him down!" He glanced back at me slightly, his expression alone shaking my confidence. "Stay out of what you don't understand [y/n]," he said in a tone that, in any other situation, would be incredibly sexy. It was this moment of distraction that allowed Hoseok to shove Namjoon back, freeing himself. "How is it so hard for you to believe I'm just here to get a degree?" Hoseok said, straightening out his shirt. "Because I know you." "No Nam, you knew me." "Will someone please tell me what is going on!" I finally snapped. "It's fine [y/n]," Hoseok flashed his signature smile, "we went to the same school, I use to uh, fool around with his sister." Namjoon glared at him a moment too long, "you say that like it's the only reason why I don't like you." Hoseok scratched his head, "yeah, well, I'm not going to go into our wonderful backstory." "I've got time," I spoke up, earning a look from Namjoon, "well, I've got a right to know if someone in my family has a problem with one of my best friends." We shared a look. I knew he was just as, if not more, suspicious of this situation than I was. "Fine," Namjoon Agreed, before glancing at the on lookers. Jimin took charge in this moment, "Hey, why don't we move this party down to mine yeah?" There was no objection from the others as they began to file out. "Thank you Jimin, I owe you one," I caught him as he was leaving. He grinned, "I'll hold you to that... Good luck." Before we knew it the place was empty, with the exception of the men in question, Jungkook and I. The whole time Namjoon didn't take his eyes off of Hoseok. "Look I know what you're thinking, but I promise you I don't work for him anymore." "Oh good, now you can explain to us," Jungkook said, equally as irritated as I was. "Hoseok and I did grow up together, but we also worked for the same guy," Namjoon started, "he is an awful man, and made us do... bad things," he said, a bit more quietly. "Which is why I got out of there, not much longer after you did," Namjoon looked over at him, trying to figure him out. "Namjoon, I haven't heard from Yoongi in years, come on man." Namjoon took in a deep breath, "right, fine," he said, "I apologise, last time I saw you-" "I was his lap dog? Yeah, I know," Hoseok laughed, looking over to us. "Sorry for not saying anything. I didn't think it would come up," he turned his attention to me specifically, "and I certainly didn't know you were related to the big guy." "Our family isn't close," I said with a small smile. Hoseok cleared his throat, "right." There was a far too pregnant pause. "Well, I have most definitely overstayed my welcome, I'll see you guys Monday?" I nodded, and Jungkook began collecting his things, knowing that Namjoon and I would want to talk about this alone. "I better head off too, Hobi is walking my way home, I don't want to walk home all lonely," he played off with a smile. I nodded, "thank you Kook, and uh, sorry Hobi." He smiled, "no stress, I'll see you soon." The boys very quickly left the room and I was left with Namjoon. "Nam-" "It crossed my mind when you mentioned a friend called Hobi, but I didn't think it would be him." he continued to face away from me, fists clenched. "Tell me the truth," I stared, causing him to glance back to me, "do I need to be worried?" He shook his head. "good, now you can explain yourself to me."

[lifeofgroffsauce]

Miscellaneous papers spilled from a crisp manilla folder held lax and haphazardly, clattering onto the apartment's hallway floor to cause a groan from the actor. Various safety waivers and film contracts now mixed up and out of the ascending order of dates he'd meticulously placed them in, was a hell of an end to the night. Crouching down to gather them, grumbling irritably as he did, he tried his best to reorganize the mess before knocking on the door.

“Jon Groff! My faaavorite client!”

The shrill ring of his, uncharacteristically drunk, agent Kelly hit his ears. It was her cheery smile that was infectious and suddenly he matched her enthusiasm, despite his previous misfortune seconds ago.  

“Oh my god, you're such a little liar!” He accused playfully then gestured to her relaxed posture against the wood slab that seemed to hold her up, having it half way open. “What are you doing on a Monday night, missy? Don't you have special agent things to be doing?”

Freshly manicured nails, tips too boxy in Jonathan's opinion, tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. He noticed they both suffered the same fate when it came to alcohol flushing their cheeks. Hers, however, wore only a faint blush peeking through her artificially tan skin. “What?! Why are you- did you not get my email?” A gasp fled from her lithe form, soon swatting his arm. “Check your fucking emails more than once a year! Jesus, I sent you an e-vite!”

Just as he rose an inquisitive brow, she swung the door fully open, bright cerleans catching the light of the Brooklyn bridge out of gigantic panoramic windows lining the living room wall. A small group of people congregated about the space, all mingling with each other. They all appeared to be close friends and work connections.

“You're having a party? Oh my goodness,” He laughed almost nervously and mustered up a sheepish grin. “I'm super sorry. I wish I had known! I'll make a better habit of reading those but, it's really late and I just needed to-”

“Jonathan! Nooo, don't be sorry! Come in, come in!” To her urging, his lips parted to object but she quickly silenced him with her shushing, coiling her nimble digits around his larger ones. /Don't argue with Italians, even the five-foot-two short shits like Kelly./ He smirked at his own thought and walked in.

“You know Drew Gehling, right?” The boozy Kelly slurred her way through each introduction like a proper hostess. A striking baritone voice flooded the space with his drawl, steps moving toward the agent as they circled around the dining table. “Why bother asking, Kels. Tall, dark, handsome. Fits Jonathan's type perfectly. Of course they know each other.”

Jonathan's muscles tensed slightly, his mouth pulling a tight-lipped grin. “Though I guess the 'tall' box has been unchecked. New boyfriend's on the vertically challenged side.” Zachary offered a sassy smirk to Jon to let him know he was joking and calm him down; unfortunately, it did the opposite. He was painfully reminded of where he should  be versus where he was.

“He's flexible; that's all that matters,” Flew from his lips faster than his brain could register. It earned him a chuckle from his ex-boyfriend. J shrugged.

Kelly, the serial gasper at this point, followed with a grip of Jon's bicep. “Oh my god, I fucking meant to talk to you about all those Instagram posts! Stop with the lovey crap or Jeana will actually have a job to do- and Jon- I'd rather keep her on standby and not pay her an exorbitant amount of money because you're in your feelings...” She continued to scold him, but he had long since tuned her out as, in paranoid fashion, his focus was on studying Quinto until the tall male left the room to go refill his oversized glass of chardonnay.

Another theatre family member (he remembered as Lin's “cousin”) joined their conversation and began a debate regarding the proper use of social media. Jonathan eased up a bit when he saw Zach return but rather than engage, turned to his own huddle of friends on the other side of the room. /I'll stay for a little while longer, I don't want to be rude./

Before he knew it, a blush colored wine glass was being thrust into one of his hands he was animatedly driving his point home with. Without thought, he accepted it, not aware it was Zachary that had given it to him until several moments after. Naturally, the thirty-three year old regarded him with a polite nod, watching as he seamlessly dove into the topic at hand.

“I just don't see the point in lying on social media about who you are or what you do. Why try to make someone believe you pop bottle of Dom every weekend and prance around on a private beach every holiday? Stop stunting.” One actor in their bundle scoffed.

While Jonathan's eyes were taking in the many that had swarmed around their expanded circle, Zach spoke up. His left arm leaned against the kitchen's accent wall. “I take it you've never heard of 'escape theory'? Mm, what a shame, Brandon.”

A click of his tongue snagged Groff's attention, wine kissing his lips, attention on Quinto. “All of us here; we're trying to find an outlet to help us step outside, escape- if you've put two and two together- who we are for a fragment in time. It can be as simple as that evening glass of cheri you have in your underwhelming studio apartment, or as large as the theatre audience seeing you stripped down, bare-assed, utterly exposed for eyes to feast on your body. You don't think posting photographs on social media does that as well?”

He was met with silence; the group stealing glances but not quite knowing how to move forward. Quinto took that as a que to continue speaking, this time with a tone that was introspective. “We can project anything out into the world... put out... anything, but the hardest thing to do is show it who we are. To the core. That's why people 'stunt' on social media. Maybe, after a while, we'll start to believe it, too. We'll start to believe we're something more than we actually are.”

Another pause. “Here I just thought everyone had Cartier bracelets and endless frequent flier miles.” Jon deadpanned, earning laughter from everyone, as well as a slightly grim smile from Zachary. The older actor excused himself, accidentally (intentionally?) brushing his front against the Hamilton star's chest when he passed.

“Jeez, Zach!” Kelly coughed, senses overloaded at the trail he left in his wake. “Use more Bleu de Chanel, please. I don't think they can smell your bougie ass in Chelsea!”

Two hours later...

“Drive safe. Take back alleys. The scenic routes. Turn on your Friends app so I can see when you're home.” The demands came at lightening speed from his drunk agent, whom he was sure peppered some Italian expletives in there. “Kelly Bean, I'm good. Three glasses of wine. Solid as a rock. Go to bed.”

He watched the petite woman tuck herself into the Pottery Barn sheets then began his quest for the door, stopped only by the sound of glasses clanking together. Everyone was gone with the exception of two. While the first was exhausted beyond belief, seeing the second clearing the glasses off the table alone guilted him. “Do you... do you want help with this?”

The onyx haired man shook his head no. “I'll have you know, I'm very domestic now, Groff. I got it. Go home,” He insisted. “I would just feel bad if I left this for her because honey, with that hangover she's going to have tomorrow, she's going to be wishing for death. Dirty crystal will be the catalyst that pushes her over the edge; the Brooklyn nutcase. That's why you don't get involved with Virgos.”

Jon nodded slowly as he spoke, semi-entertained though far away in his mind. It caused him to approach his next set of words with caution. “Hey, do you remember... I know this was a long time ago and it's probably super unprofessional because of, you know, the show, but...” A sigh. “When we were together, maybe the first six or so months, we- we did a scene. It was super intense...” He was gaging Quinto's, so far, anti-climactic reaction. “I threw up...” An embarrassed laugh leaked into the air.

“Which time? I remember that you had the weeeeakest stomach,” The laugh that followed from Zachary was filled with nostalgic amusement. After diving up the glasses in even rows into the dishwasher, he spun around to pin his broad back against the pantry door, raising a finger. “I think you may have cried once, too. I don't do crying so, kind of let you do your thing on that one. A little dark, in retrospect.” His hand waved back and forth, not too sold on the idea that he added, “To be fair, I mean; we did a lot of intense stuff. We were intense stuff.”

The gears in Jonathan's brain were turning. An odd comfort came from hearing him stress were. Mentally noting to keep that in his arsenal when he had to balance his career and relationship. As if that justified him being there talking to him, instead of at home, spooning Lin as he promised. The lyricist was never far from his mind, especially as he stood in the warm cast of light in the otherwise empty home, staring at the distant embodiment of someone he cared about.

Zachary was a walking memory; an old polaroid that had discolored and aged with time. Circumstances were what they were. No amount of positive narration would change the way something was. Not even the comfort a lie would provide. There was ice and the bite of winter whenever he looked at him.

He greatly preferred Lin, who was a photo album with more promise and opportunity for happiness. A radiating warmth that flowed from a steadily burning fire. Thoughts, the splitting wood and radiant embers that transformed into something beyond what is expected. In life, he'd found another soul he believed shared a part of his. They were intertwined in some cosmic way, and life was too short to not pursue that. Even if that meant he had to intervene in the man's own marriage to make it happen.

Still, none of this quelled the incessant internal squabbling that came with trying to piece together... the reality. /To weed through the lies of the past is necessary to have a better understanding of the future's truth./ Some shit his therapist told him that he wished he hadn't. Now he couldn't stop trying to remember.

Lingering whispers of anxiety multiplied into an fierce entity that occupied his headspace long after he'd left. Two small pills were his savior, dissolving into his Rosé-filled gut.

Finally, he made it home.

Luckily, his boyfriend was out cold. Feet weren't as coordinated as they could have been, stumbling while attempting to take off his jacket. The blunt hit of his kneecap on the night stand caused his hiss before he whispered apologies to the offending piece of furniture. Resuming his place with the Puerto Rican in his embrace, a smile graced his lips. He could only hope his aura remained as peaceful as it did in this moment.

[speedyengineerfury]

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[rottenappleheart]

mm liveblog part 2

majora’s mask, unfiltered notes for the entire first 3-day cycle until you get the ocarina back and are no longer a slave to the passage of time

DAWN OF

THE FIRST DAY

72 HOURS REMAIN

tatl's thesis - that we should ask the great fairy for help, because the skull kid is no match for the great fairy - is deeply flawed. i have met great fairies. do you know what they don't do? help much.

that said i now like the idea of the skull kid being periodically taken to task by various great fairies

"sit down and tell me what you did this time"

"i made  you a sandwich"

"are you sorry"

i know it's meant to be irritating but i love that the guards will stop both deku link and normal link (until they see he's armed, and also looks like he hasn't slept in seven years) from exiting. becasue they are doing their job and keeping the population safe. and that means not letting children wander around alone.

I LOVE CLOCK TOWN OKAY

I TALK TO EVERYONE ABOUT THEIR LIVES AND I READ ALL THE POSTERS FOR THE LOCAL BANDS AND THE GUARD RECRUITMENTS AND I WATCH THAT ODD MASKED PERSON PICK UP THEIR MAIL AND I TRY TO BEFRIEND THE LOCAL STRAY DOGS AND IT IS JUST SO GOOD

the grown deku scrub who promised his wife a moon's tear, i just have to ask: is that a thing that normally happens? does the moon always just... cry onto the surface of the planet? what???

i love their banners and streamers and their happy music and their busy bustling lives and it's so good

what the fuck kind of ink does the banker use that remains indelible even as time itself unwinds

yikes i want to stop and just look at everything but the first sunset is already closing in and i haven't done anything

I FORGOT HOW NERVE-WRACKING THIS GAME IS BEFORE YOU CAN SLOW TIME DOWN

i... just found a lottery shop in clock town. i literally never knew this was here. how have i missed it all these years.

NIGHT OF

THE FIRST DAY

60 HOURS REMAIN

how is time passing so fast aaaaaaa

clocktown is such a nice place, they have a whole section of town set aside for a public park with a playground and gardens and everything ;___;

okay so the  great fairies though

remember what i was saying about how this game is actually very heavily voiced for being an ostensibly unvoiced game? everyone sighs, grunts, yells, hmms? and so on. and sometimes you'll catch almost a word.

except for the great fairy, it just sounds like she's squeaking "PLEASE ME" which is. an uncomfortable request. at the best of times.

but especially when i am in the form of a young potted plant.

idk what that was supposed to sound like but the midi-ified file is NOT GREAT, nintendo.

members-only late night milk bar... aw yeah please spike my milkshake, that is a great idea and i love it

(i'm not joking i love spiked milkshakes)

(also i love the milk bar and all the scenes that take place in there, especially on the last night, when you can just have very quiet calm conversations with people doing their best to be calm in the face of their unavoidable deaths)

DAWN OF

THE SECOND DAY

48 HOURS REMAIN

oh no oh no oh no WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO BE DOING IN THE FIRST GO-ROUND

oh right i have literally two tasks

phew

i forgot to go into the stock pot inn on the first day, and i missed seeing kafei at the mailbox, so i am THIRSTY for EVERYONE'S FAVORITE CANONICAL FIANCEES

seriously, another weird but lovely choice on the part of the developers when they were ganking oot character models for this game. "who's a potential spooky villain? how about that one merchant guy? sure! and for an attractive bride-type character, what are our options? hmmm... how about the cuccoo lady with all the allergies? it's perfect"

i love not just anju and kafei but everything involved in their storyline - how kafei's friendship with the curiosity shop manager saved him, how anju's best friend is cremia on the ranch and they talk about their lives and how cremia will save her life (if she can), how you can spend actual in-game hours just sitting with anju's ancient senile grandmother hearing her stories as she thinks she is telling them to her long-dead son, how anju's mom will quietly not like kafei and kafei's mom will love and worry about him on a serious level very unlike her public persona... it's all so very real and human and i love it so

also heck the whole cast of characters staying in the inn

AH THERE SHE IS

THE BRIDE

anju i'm going to fix this ;___;

hello guardsmen if you are concerned about the state of today's youth maybe you should talk to THE BOMBER GANG i'm just saying

people who have played the more recent loz games, is the trend of "horrible underaged gangs of roving thugs" still a thing? or are mm and ww the only two games where they inflicted that on the player?

NIGHT OF

THE SECOND DAY

36 HOURS REMAIN

i'm sweating, i am just trying to find the bomber gang so i can get into the observatory so i can get the moon's tear so i can get the flower launch pad so i can get to the top of the clock tower and not die in a fiery inferno as gravitational forces rip the world apart

is that so much to ask

THERE'S THE LITTLE RUGRAT

COME HERE SO I CAN PUMMEL YOU

i refuse to feel bad about spin-kicking this child in the face because 1) i am technically also a child, in any body they put me in and 2) they are super racist if you talk to them while you are still a deku scrub! VERY RUDE

heck they let fergus over there man the door and he is still in diapers

gonna fill their hideout with encouraging tracts and stuff helping them grow into better people

so, fun fact

i remember many things about this game

but not that there is a skulltula in the waterway leading to the observatory

that was an unpleasant surprise

you probably could have heard me yell from three states away

(also, nothing has attacked you yet in the game (that actually does damage, and is not part of the story) so it's a little wake-up call: hey, don't forget to use Tatl to scout ahead, don't forget that you have a shield

also just

don't

be a moron

anyway

i was about to ask who the dickens put balloons with majora's mask on them all over the place - it's a weird choice, since no one... knows... what's going on? but technically, so far, all of the balloons are being interacted with by the bombers, or in places where the bombers go, and skull kid was, however briefly, a member of the bombers' secret society for justice (AND ALSO RACISM) so actually it makes more sense than i expected

when you first walk into the basement of the observatory and... the music changes... and there's a chicken??? it is what i assume being high is like.

DAWN OF

THE FINAL DAY

24 HOURS REMAIN

plays just as i lunge for the moon's tear

okay i've got this, i can stop fretting, the while last day can just be me looking around at stuff and being sad because i can't help anybody

yet

DON'T WORRY PEOPLE I WILL SAVE YOU

EVENTUALLY

IN A DIFFERENT LIFE

YOU'RE DEFINITELY BONED IN THIS ONE

SORRY ABOUT THAT

BUT I'M A STUMP THAT CHEWS BUBBLE GUM RIGHT NOW AND I DON'T THINK YOU CAN ASK VERY MUCH OF ME

I CAN'T EVEN REACH THE DOORKNOBS OF THIS TOWN SO TBH I WASN'T GOING TO BE MUCH GOOD AGAINST AN INTERSTELLAR BODY CRASHING INTO THE PLANET

a more srs thought: it was an interesting choice of curse skull kid lays on link at the start, making him into a deku scrub, and i think we can unpack some stuff there: he's drawing on his woodland roots (which link shares), he's making link into something small and largely helpless (like skull kid is, without the mask), he's... actually giving link a very similar kind of body to  his own?

i don't know what  the exact taxonomical differentiation is between deku scrubs and skull kids, but they are both wooden-bodied, whether grown or carved, they both have radiantly glowing eyes unlike most other things in the world, they both clothe themselves in bright layers of leaves... i imagine that if you sandblasted all the drama off a skull kid, you'd find something pretty similar to the lankier deku scrubs.

in that case, what he did is... he really kinda turned link into himself. but his helpless, powerless, abandoned, friendless, pre-mask self. to taunt him with all those awful feelings that skull kid himself experienced.

(mythological distinction for skull kids: they are people who got lost in the woods, and became cursed. if i'm not mistaken.)

(link is literally becoming a skull kid.)

(good times y'all!)

oh gosh the music is so frantic on the third day, and it's such a good bit of development on the design team's side: every day, clock town's music gets a little faster, a little shriller, as their time runs out

if you talk to the guards who block you in on the third day, instead of their usual "hey kiddo it's dangerous outside" they'll start saying "hey, are you alone, where is your family, are you okay, someone is probably worrying about you, please find them and get out of town as soon as you can"

fun fact: one of the things that consistently Wrecks me about this game is how the guards stand at their posts, jaws clenched, holding their fists to their hearts, as they watch their world be destroyed... because they will not abandon their duty.

seriously, every time i die.

and the cow figurines all over town that, if you hadn't noticed before, have bobbleheads, because as the earth starts shaking they do too, and it's another tiny detail that makes it all The Worst.

awkward council meeting eavesdropped on

("nothing is wrong!" is a lot less believable when the ground is literally shaking from the gravitational stresses being exerted by the falling moon, but hey, 2018)

the carpenters shouting back and forth "hey dudes i'm sorry but i'm gonna jet" "are you kidding if i stay i get a promotion"

;_______;

SO MANY RACISTS IN CLOCK TOWN, the merchant's hipster assistant will literally refuse to talk to you if you're "just" a deku scrub

meanwhile the bomb shop guy's grandmother (the one who gets robbed, if you're not paying attention, like i wasn't) is just "oh goodness you are a very small customer, please be careful in our shop of very dangerous things"

NIGHT OF

THE FINAL DAY

12 HOURS REMAIN

eeeeeeeeeeep

finally got into the milk bar (everyone's a member when the world is ending!) and madame aroma, the scary and powerful socialite, starts with a very gentle "are you okay with not fleeing? it looks like we are all going to die here in town. is anyone looking for you?"

if i had all my masks and instruments i would love to invoke that scene right now and be the band on the titanic and give her and the other customers a few minutes of... life, if not joy, and beauty, if not quite comfort.

snuck into the now-abandoned stock pot inn, as well, and... okay, i'm going to say it, i don't know wtf is going on with anju's wedding dress. is her midriff made out of ivy? why is her romantic wedding-day mask (which is a neat concept btw!) a grinning rictus? what are we saying about love in this moment???)

(also, if you have ever made the mistake of helping kafei but forgetting to tell anju to wait for him, or telling anju to wait and then not helping kafei deal with sakon... it's a shitshow, it's bad for you, it darkens your heart forever)

during the last 12 hours the guards will say "i want to help you get out of her asap, run find your folks and i will let you out, please hurry"

nooooooo ;_______;

the postman sobbing because "flee for your life" is not written on the schedule

he wrote himself a letter saying that he is doing a good job and he requests that he himself flee ;__________________; but he can't do it ;__________________________;

oh no here we go

here it comes

the clocktower

the fireworks

the moon

the six hours remaining music

HEART CLUTCH

soft wailing

ngl that sad and weary music is the best part of the entire narrative experience to me

and then skull kid's impotent fury against all that immense power

tatl to skull kid: "what if we... didn't???"

also a good and valid point: friends don't hit friends

JUST LOOK ABOVE YOU

IF IT'S SOMETHING THAT CAN BE STOPPED

JUST TRY AND STOP IT

(his voice is still so horribly thin and shrill, like a child)

but one well-placed gum bubble to the face and we are BACK IN BUSINESS

the BUSINESS

of RUNNING FOR OUR LIVES

from THINGS WE CANNOT FIGHT

i like that the one time zelda appears in the game, it is such a gentle and tender scene, reminding you of the bond she MUST have had with Link, for him to have done so much, and how much trust he puts in her

(... ask me again about the Song of Endings)

("even though it was only a short time, i feel like i've known you forever")

("i believe in my heart that a day will come when i shall meet you again")

(--> all my worst most wretched tp emotions about the wolf and the shrouded lady in the tower)

the song that reminds her of herself and link is the song of time, not anything else... the song about cycles and memory and history and second chances and legends

;_________________;

WELL FUCK I GUESS I'M HAVING PRINCESS ZELDA FEELS IN THE MIDDLE OF  THE GAME IN WHICH SHE DOES NOT PLAY A ROLE

i have to play the songs in the right time, i can't just half-ass it by speeding through the buttons, idk why

("the goddess of time is watching over you" --> old old questions about who the goddess of time is, and which sage zelda was, etc)

the PLOT TWIST when you equip the ocarina and it turns into A GOSHDARN BRASS QUINTET STRAPPED TO YOUR BACK i love it

(each little snail yeah knows how to wail yeah)

tatl saying [as midna will, centuries later]: um dude i mean sir WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU, HAVE I MISJUDGED, SUDDENLY I AM WORRIED ABOUT MY MANNERS

and we are... not victorious, but reprieved!!!

i'll do better this time everyone i promise

DAWN OF

THE FIRST DAY

AGAIN...!!!

[sapphicscholar]

Ok I know you're busy but please please please write whatever pairing you want for the post of the person who is advertising their services as being a terrible date to your family Thanksgiving dinner. No rush. Whenever you want. IF you want. Your life things absolutely come first

This has now been posted to AO3 here!

-Refers to this post  (text is there, but I changed to better match the situation/add in a joke or two)

A/N: This is set before the sort of reconciliation we get between Eliza and Alex (for reasons, even though other things have already happened that canonically take place post-reconciliation and really the timeline is all sorts of fucked but I’m beyond sleep-deprived), and since I’m writing from Alex’s POV, their relationship will sound pretty shitty, though it’s not the focus here. Also, this is pure crack–probably fairly terrible crack. In case anyone worried it would be serious….

Chapter Text

Knitting her eyebrows together in confusion, Alex reread at the vague subject line in her inbox: “Saw this, thought of you.” Knowing it was from Lucy already had her on high alert—the last time she’d unthinkingly opened a link from one of her emails at work, she’d ended up with the video for “Dick in a Box” playing at full volume to the surprise (and amusement) of her DEO recruits. But, since she was at home and more than a little curious, she clicked on the link, finding herself on a Craigslist ad that read:

“It’s Thanksgiving. Want to skip that long, insulting conversation about how youre still single? About how your parents really want more grand children? Well, look no further!

I am a 29 year old ex-con (long story, don’t worry, I’m plenty friendly!) with no family to worry about and a dirty pickup truck one year younger than me painted with some Scissor Sisters album cover artwork (there when I got it, but I like it too much to change it). I can play anywhere between the ages of 25 and 35 depending on hair and makeup. I’m a bartender and work late nights. If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship with you, to torment your family, I’m game.

I can do these things, at your request: • Openly hit on other female guests while you act like you don’t notice• Start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion (I prefer to play the flaming liberal atheist, but can adapt depending on how promising the dessert selection will be and how much it would piss off your shitty family)• Propose to you in front of everyone (I’ve got a cheap ring and all)• Pretend to be really drunk as the evening goes on (sorry, I don’t really drink much anymore, but I used to. A lot. too much in fact… I know the drill)• Start an actual, physical fight with a family member, either inside or on the front lawn for all the neighbors to see (I require advance warning if I’m not to harm them in any real way or leave marks)

I require no pay but the free meal I will receive as a guest!”

Scowling, Alex switched over to email and sent back: “What the hell, Lane?”

Mere seconds later a reply came back in: “Morning to you too, Alex! You said you didn’t want to deal with your mom and your sister’s shitty boyfriend alone again so… voila! A solution—and it’s free.”

“I’m not going to hire an escort service,” Alex shot back.

“She says ‘strictly platonic,’ so it’s really not an escort service. And you’re not paying her, just feeding her. C’mon, think of all the joy those stories could bring to me, your dear friend, your oldest friend.”

“You arrested me for treason.”

“Hey look! Something you two have in common. You could totally bond about being ex-cons together.”

“Fuck off.”

“Do it!”

“No.”

Alex was ready to leave the conversation at that, but when she made it into the DEO, she found Lucy, a wide grin on her face and an extra coffee in her hand waiting for her in her lab. “So, I know you think it’s a bad idea, but here’s why you should do it.” She paused, waiting for Alex’s objections. When the woman just arched an eyebrow and glared, she kept going. “First of all, Eliza always wants to know why you don’t bring anyone home. You get the speech about how you went through all that effort to come out, and now you’re still single, Alexandra. Why? Second, Vas’s parents had to cancel last minute, so we’re gonna come crash the Danvers Thanksgiving extravaganza and would love to have some front row seats to this. Third, you know you’ve wanted to punch Mike since the moment he and Kara got together, and now someone is willing to do it for free. Do you understand how few things in life are genuinely free?”

“It won’t be free because you know the consequences will haunt me forever.”

“Danvers. Have I ever asked you for anything in my life?”

“So many things.”

“Hmm, I don’t recall those things. So you should say yes to this one.”

“Why are you so adamant?”

“No reason,” Lucy shrugged, a smirk playing at her lips as she feigned nonchalance, examining her perfectly manicured nails.

“Lucy,” Alex growled. “What did you do?”

“Nothing…I just, well, maybe I emailed her.”

“To say hello?”

“Yep, just emailed her to say hey.” A beat. “She can’t wait to meet you on Thursday!”

“Lucy!” Alex yelled, taking off after Lucy who had high-tailed it out of the lab. “Get your ass back in here!”

“Agent Danvers, is there a problem?” J’onn asked when Alex nearly collided with him.

“No, sir, nothing at all. I just have a few…follow up questions for Lucy.”

“It will have to wait. Supergirl just called in for backup on a situation developing downtown.”

With a nod, Alex resigned herself to waiting to exact her revenge on Lucy and cancel on whatever ex-con she’d found her for Thanksgiving. Of course, she reasoned, it might be amusing to see how her mother would react… Sure, she might not be able to compete with Kara, who could seemingly do no wrong, but surely she could be better than this internet chick. And bringing her would most definitely piss off her mother…

—

With a tumbler of top-shelf whiskey in front of her (courtesy of Lucy), Alex tilted her head to the side. “You’ll be there if anything goes horribly wrong?”

“I think you, Agent Badass, can more than handle it.” Lucy grinned at Alex over the rim of her own glass, far too excited about the prospect of her actually taking this mystery Craigslist woman to Thanksgiving dinner.

“Ah, but you forget I don’t really do family holidays sober. Still have a mean right hook, but it’d be nice to have backup.”

“Fine, yes, Vas and I will be there for you the whole day.”

“And you’ll take the blame if it goes horrifically wrong?”

“What? That wasn’t part of the agreement.”

“It is if you want me to actually agree this time.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Lucy finally nodded. “Alright, Danvers, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Fine,” Alex sighed, resigning herself to her fate. If nothing else, it would at least provide her with stories for years to come (and, if she were lucky, maybe even get her disinvited from future family holidays).

“Perfect, she’ll pick you up at 3.”

“Wait, you gave her my address?”

“Love ya too, Alex!” Lucy yelled, grabbing for her coat and making for the entrance before Alex could change her mind yet again.

—

2:50pm on Thanksgiving found Alex pacing back and forth in the lobby of her building. She hadn’t even wanted this woman—Maggie, apparently—to know where she lived, but since Lucy had already given up that information she was at least going to keep her from getting all the way up to her apartment. A ping from her phone finally drew her attention away from the door.

“Almost here. Is family there? Should I be a real dick and honk from the street?”

Smiling in spite of herself, Alex sent back: “No, just me. I’ll come outside.” Her smile soon vanished and her jaw dropped when she caught sight of Maggie’s truck rolling down her street. True to her word (though Alex might have conveniently forgotten that detail), it was emblazoned with a pair of women’s legs that morphed into scissors, a beam of light refracting through it and splitting off into a rainbow Pink Floyd-style.

“Your chariot awaits, m’lady!” the woman yelled after cranking down her windows, a smirk adorning her face that brought out dimples Alex might have fallen for if she didn’t know they belonged to some weirdo who would advertise her services on Craigslist.

With a nod and grunt of acknowledgment, Alex pulled herself up into the truck, rolling the window back up before turning to face her “girlfriend” for the day.

“So…you always this quiet?” Maggie asked, peeking over at Alex as they crawled their way through holiday traffic.

“No.”

“Cool, cool.” Eventually, tired of the quiet, Maggie spoke up again. “Anything you want me to do or not do today? Who all will be there?”

“Mom—Eliza. My sister Kara—technically foster sister, though she’s obviously the favorite child. Her jackass boyfriend, Mike, and her best friend Winn. I don’t think James is coming this year. Then Lucy and her girlfriend Vasquez.”

“Ah, yes, Lucy’s the one who wrote to me for you!”

“Mm, the very one,” Alex grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling at the traffic as though the sheer force of her glare could make it move faster.

“If you don’t mind my asking, why did you do this? You seem kinda…miserable about the whole ordeal.”

“Lucy.”

“If you’re really not up for it, I can just drop you off and head back home. I mean, okay, yeah, I don’t get my Thanksgiving meal, but I’m not gonna force my delightful company on you.”

“Thanks.” Maggie couldn’t help but notice it was the first time Alex had sounded sincere, and she almost seemed to relax—not quite, but a little. “I’m okay though.”

“Alright, well, you’ve got until the front door to make that decision.”

“No, no. You were promised a Thanksgiving meal, and you’ll get one.” She’d even warned Kara to cook the turkey beforehand lest she accidentally out herself as an alien to yet another person.

“Well, I appreciate it.”

“Yeah,” Alex dismissed the thanks with a shrug and a wave of her hand.

“So, what’s our deal for the day?”

“Oh, um, maybe we’ve been dating for a couple of months—wasn’t super serious at first and didn’t want to say anything just yet?”

“Okay, that works. So no proposal?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Roger that. Now, do you want me to be a total d-bag? Hit on your sister?”

“No! No, there’s no need to remind mom just how much better Kara is than me at everything, including, apparently, attracting my fake girlfriend’s attention.”

Maggie cocked her head to the side, wondering how in the world the gorgeous woman sitting next to her thought she would ever fail to hold someone’s attention. Sure, she could be a little bit of an ass, according to Lucy, but who wasn’t?

“Okay, so, eyes on you and only you. Want me to talk politics? Religion? My former conviction? My lack of career mobility?”

“I don’t know,” Alex sighed, rubbing at her temples and trying to remember why she had agreed to this. Perhaps she thought this woman might deflect attention away from her—be so unsuccessful that Alex’s failure to become a proper medical doctor might be overlooked for a change, be so unappealing as a date that her mom would stop pushing her into relationships, figuring singledom was better than the lowlifes Alex picked up. But this woman was…not quite what she had expected. Sure, she was loud and a little brash—and her pickup truck took both of those to the extreme—but she also seemed fairly considerate, and she was cuter than Alex had expected all dressed up in her holigay best plaid.

“How about we play it by ear? I’m very good at reading people, I’ll have you know.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. For instance you are feeling very stressed and wondering why you got into my truck and why you’re bringing some internet stranger to Thanksgiving dinner. I’d put money on the fact that you’re already thinking about how much you’ll regret it and planning ways to exact some revenge on Lucy.”

Alex just pursed her lips, unwilling to admit that it was all rather true.

Grinning at Alex’s silence, which she took as confirmation, Maggie pushed her luck. “Now you’re wondering, ‘However did she get so good at reading people?’ And how is such a gorgeous woman still single, without a line of women to go home with for the holidays.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“She speaks!” Maggie crowed, cackling at the scowl directed her way. “C’mon the whole point of this stunt is to have some fun. Family holidays suck more than just about anything. And this is my irreverent way of saying fuck you to the whole ordeal. Everyone knows the holidays are all about pushing your dirty laundry and your box of vibrators deep into the closet and pretending like you don’t hate each other and everything your conservative uncles stand for while you eat until you can’t taste the bitterness of regret for your life choices anymore, right?”

“That got really bleak, really fast.”

“It’s dark humor, get used to it.”

“Remind me where the joke is.”

“Because you’ll know that everything about today is fake. Having the fake girlfriend there just helps remind you that everyone else’s perfection is a big goddam charade too.”

Alex made a vague noise, still unsure about how she felt about all of this. Rather than contemplate any longer, she turned to Maggie. “So, tell me something about you.”

“Not like I know that much about you.”

“I’m a scientist; that’s all you need to know.” It wasn’t totally true, but it would be fine.

“I doubt it.”

“I like whiskey. And dogs, not that I have time for one. I’m a scientist, not the doctor my mother hoped for. Better?”

“A little. I prefer scotch myself on the rare occasion I splurge. Dogs are clearly superior to cats, so we’re in agreement there for our future dog, ya know, even though it’s only been a couple of months. And I hate doctors, so it’s better this way.”

“All doctors?”

“Doctors, dentists, orthodontists—all the sadists, ya know.”

“Mm, right, right.”

“Yep. So, according to Lucy’s directions, we’re getting close. Any last minute instructions or questions?”

“Uh…no?”

“You don’t sound so certain.”

“Sorry, I just, I hate family things. I know in theory that she loves me, but I just—god, I can’t do another one.”

“Want me to take you home? You can blame me—tell her I let my car insurance expire or something and we got pulled over. Or I got sent to prison again.”

“That’s sweet,” Alex said, “but no, I need to go.”

“Well, at least this year you have an ex-con on your arm.”

“Speak of which…what did you do?”

“Honest answer or the fun answer?”

“Why aren’t they the same?”

“Because it’s more fun for me if I let you think I killed a man and gave all of his money to charitable causes like a veritable 21st century Robin Hood.”

“So you didn’t kill a man?”

“Tragically, no.”

“You gonna tell me what you did?”

“Protesting mainly. So disturbing the peace, disorderly conduct, that kind of shit. Not like I’ve got any felonies on the record. But I can if you want to freak out your mom. Or your sister’s boyfriend.”

“Well, if you don’t mind risking another arrest, by all means, please feel free to punch him in the face.”

“That bad?”

“Worse.”

“Yikes.”

Alex just nodded, wrapping her head around the slightly different image of Maggie that was emerging as she learned more and more about the woman. Of course, nothing excused the fact that she was in a tacky pickup truck—not even the dimples and the charm and the deep misanthropy that rivaled her own.

“We’re here,” Alex murmured, taking a deep breath and steeling herself for the inevitable shitshow.

—

“Alex!” Kara squealed, pulling her sister into a big hug like she hadn’t seen her just yesterday.

“Hey, Kara,” Alex laughed, squeezing her once before pulling back. “Maggie, this is my sister Kara. Kara, this is my girlfriend Maggie.”

The theatrical wink Kara shot in her direction had Alex ready to drop her head into her hands, but as her mom strolled across the room she realized it was too late to back out now.

“Did you say girlfriend, Alexandra? Why haven’t I heard anything?”

“Mom, this is Maggie. Maggie, this is my mom, Eliza Danvers.”

“Very nice to meet you—”

“Eliza is fine,” Eliza interjected, sensing the hesitation. “Alex, is it too much to ask that you call me every once in a while? I shouldn’t have to find out about a partner only because I happened to be in town.”

“I’ll do better,” Alex sighed, setting her coat down as her eyes scanned the apartment, looking for where Kara had hidden the good whiskey.

“Well hello there,” Lucy greeted from the doorway, grinning broadly at the sight of Alex standing next to the mystery Craigslist woman looking beyond uncomfortable under Eliza’s scrutiny.

“Lucy! Vasquez!” Kara yelled, running forward to take the mashed potatoes and rolls from their hands.

“I’m beginning to think the excitement was for the food and not for us,” Lucy pouted.

“Aww, you know I love you both equally.”

Rolling her eyes, Lucy turned her attention to Maggie. “Hey, Maggie, how’s it going?”

“So your friends have not only heard about her but met her too?” Eliza asked pointedly.

“Oh, that’s my fault. I’m not always so great at meeting the parents, so I asked her to hold off on saying something.”

Alex tried not to look surprised at the way Maggie had been so quick to stand up for her, forcing herself to nod along with the sentiment while Eliza eyed her curiously.

“Hey, Lucy,” Maggie waved, hoping to break the tension—or, better yet, ignore it entirely.

“This is Vasquez,” Lucy introduced, kicking the door shut behind them as they finally made their way into the apartment. “She really enjoyed your pickup truck—helps the neighborhood aesthetic so much,” Lucy teased.

Figuring Lucy could deal with Maggie now, Alex made her way into the kitchen to find the wine, already anticipating her mother’s comments about how much “fun” she was having.

“She’s cuter than I expected,” Kara whispered, cutting in with a glass before Alex could abscond with the whole bottle.

Alex let out a noncommittal noise while focusing her attention on pouring herself a generous glass.

“I’m just saying—it’s been a while since you dated anyone…”

“I am not going to pick someone up off of Craigslist,” Alex hissed, shaking her head and finally taking a sip of the wine she’d been eying since they walked in the door. “Much better. Now you can deal with mom and the ‘best pie in the galaxy’ while I go have an intimate moment alone with a glass of red.”

“Why don’t you wait for dinner to start drinking, Alex,” came Eliza’s voice. Alex gritted her teeth as she spun around.

“I was under the impression that dinner would be starting soon.”

“Mike’s just running a little late,” Kara explained, shooting Alex an apologetic glance as she made her way back toward the oven where they were keeping the turkey hot.

“So let’s wait to have your fun until then, hmm?”

“Aww, we always have fun, don’t we, babe,” Maggie chimed in, throwing an arm around Alex’s waist and beaming at her as though she hadn’t just stepped into the first of many tense moments to come between mother and daughter. Then again, Alex realized, she had signed up for exactly that. “C’mon, why don’t you give me the grand tour?”

“Yeah, okay,” Alex shrugged, letting herself be guided away from the kitchen and into the living room where Winn and Vasquez had set up some multi-player video game and were currently shoving at each other as they competed both in and out of the game.

“Um, this is the living room…” Alex gestured awkwardly around them before guiding Maggie off to the side. “There’s the bathroom. And through here is Kara’s bedroom.”

“It’s a nice room,” Maggie declared loudly, chuckling at Alex’s startled expression. “Gotta make sure everyone knows we’re just doing a tour, not sneaking off to fuck, ya know.”

Alex glared and shushed Maggie. “Why would anyone think that?”

“Um, cause we’re dating. And it’s boring. And there’s a bed right there.”

“And a room full of people right out there!”

“You hired me to piss off your mom or be the asshole that makes you look good. Do you really have room to judge?”

“Ugh, stop reminding me of what a failure I am.”

“Hey, no, I don’t think you’re a failure at all—that’s not what I said. In fact, I bet you’re anything but. You’re pretty, and you’ve gotta be smart and driven to be a scientist. Your sister looks at you like you’re her goddam hero. And you had a friend concerned enough about your well-being to reach out to some stranger on the internet and subject me to a rather thorough vetting before sending me your address.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, Lucy and Vasquez double-teamed me for some interrogation thing. I mean…I won’t lie, it was kinda hot. But also I felt like if I didn’t pass I maybe would’ve disappeared without a trace. I don’t know why, but I feel like they could do that…”

Alex shrugged; she wasn’t wrong. “How’d you get all of that in just a few moments?”

“I’m a bartender. I read people for a living.”

“I guess…”

“So, why don’t you fill in the details I missed?”

“Um, Kara works for CatCo as Cat Grant’s assistant.” Maggie whistled, looking impressed. “My mom’s a scientist as well, Dr. Danvers. So was my dad.”

“Divorce?” Maggie asked.

“Um, no, he died when I was younger.”

“Fuck, Alex, I’m sorry—I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine. Not caring about family is your whole schtick, right?”

“Not caring about my family is my thing. That’s—that’s different.”

“What happened to the whole families suck act from the truck?” Alex teased, trying to move away from the topic of her dad.

“Ah, well, most years I’ve done this, I’ve gone to families as shitty as mine. Sometimes with shitty people as my fake date too, so there’s that.”

“So how do I compare?”

“Significantly less shitty. I mean, your mom’s a little judge-y, but she did pull me aside to ask what my intentions were with you, so she clearly cares.”

“Got a funny way of showing it,” Alex snorted.

“Yeah, but at least she’s showing it at all.”

“What’s the deal with your family?” Alex asked, suddenly curious.

“I don’t have one. Got an aunt I go visit when I can afford it, but otherwise it’s just me.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Better off without them.” Seeing the clench to Maggie’s jaw, Alex didn’t push the issue, though she couldn’t help the instinctive anger she felt toward whatever kind of person had left the woman that jaded. She might not get along with her mother, but at the end of the day, at least she knew she was loved, even if it never seemed to come in the way she needed it.

A loud knock on the door pulled their attention away, and Alex sighed loudly as Mike waltzed in, pulling Kara in for a kiss that just seemed inappropriate in front of their friends, but Eliza looked pleased enough to see Kara giggling, so of course now it would be acceptable.

“The boyfriend?” Maggie checked.

“Yep.”

“Should we have put on a show like that?”

“What happened to platonic only?”

“That’s the rule. But I already dislike him enough that I think I could make an exception for a bit of one-upsmanship.”

Alex snickered. “You’re not so bad, you know that?”

“High praise.”

—

The group eventually settled into dinner after an awkward round of toasts that included Mike speaking at great length about what an excellent person he’d become knowing Kara, Alex refusing to speak, Kara attempting to keep the peace, and Maggie giving an effusive speech about how perfect Alex was, including the line: “Best yet, not only is she smokin’ hot, but she’s also really fucking smart,” that had Lucy choking on her wine as she let out a bark of a laugh.

“So, Mark, tell me about yourself,” Maggie said, turning to look at him.

“It’s Mike.”

“Right.”

“Um, I work as an intern at CatCo.”

“Hey, look, babe! Maggie called, patting at Alex’s hand. “I’m not the least impressive person at the table anymore! At least I have a salary!”

“I will have a salary,” Mike protested.

“Yeah, yeah, Matt, whatever you say.”

“It’s not Matt.”

“Right, sorry! Mark—I’ve got it now. Locked in my memory—good as a vault. Mark. Mark, Mark, Mark.” Kara glared. Vasquez bit back a laugh. Lucy snorted into her wine. And Alex slung an arm around the back of Maggie’s chair, thinking this might just be the best idea Lucy ever had. She was definitely enjoying Thanksgiving more than she ever thought was possible.

“So, Mark the intern, tell me more.”

Looking over to Kara for guidance, Mike finally turned back and rolled with it. “Well, I work with Kara.”

“Are you her intern?”

“No, I am not.”

“Gotcha. So is that how you met Kara.”

“Why don’t we talk about you instead,” Kara chimed in, glaring at Alex. She’d been willing to play along but didn’t need to see her boyfriend being attacked all dinner.

“Ah, yes, well, I’m a bartender.”

Kara looked at her expectantly, but Maggie just smiled.

“So how did you two meet?” Mike asked, glad to have the attention off of himself.

“Do you want to tell it or should I, babe?” Maggie asked, looking over at Alex. The panicked glance she got in return was all the answer she needed. “I’ll tell it this time. So, it’s a funny story, right. Cause the first time I see her isn’t quite how we started dating. But I’m driving downtown, and I see this one walking down the sidewalk looking fine as hell in a leather jacket. And I swear, I nearly rear-ended the guy in front of me she had me so love-struck at first sight. But I managed to hit the brakes—couldn’t bear it if something had happened to Gertie—that’s my truck, in case you didn’t get that. She’s a real beauty; you’ll all have to come see her before the night’s over. Anyhow, she probably could’ve survived the crash—really, I could probably hit pretty much anything and you’d never know it. Not that I do,” she added with an exaggerated wink. Alex finished her glass of wine, nearly tipping it completely upside down, while Vasquez dug her nails into Lucy’s thigh to keep her from bursting out in laughter.

“Anyway, I see that she’s going to this coffee shop, so I start popping in just in case—and boom, like an angel, she appears.” But as Maggie got ready to reach the high point of her story—it was gonna be a good one, she could just feel it—a bright flash appeared in the living room, bringing with it a new person, though Alex would bet money he wasn’t human.

Within a moment, the majority of the room had produced guns, batons, and knives from nowhere and stood at the ready, weapons drawn, badges held high, and questions on their lips.

“I come in peace!” the creature yelled, looking beyond intimidated at the less than warm welcome. “But I bring a warning for Kara Zor-El, daughter of Krypton.”

As he turned to look at Kara, Alex swore under her breath, realizing she’d now have to get some random stranger willing to trade fake-dating services for free food on Craigslist to sign extensive nondisclosure agreements. But when she turned she found the woman pointing a gun and holding up a badge of her own.

“NCPD?” Alex hissed, while Kara and Mike moved with the visitor to the living room.

“Well who the hell is gonna let a Craigslist cop crash their Thanksgiving? That sounds like a sting operation if I’ve ever heard one. Besides, you’re not exactly the scientist you told me you were,” Maggie added, gesturing at the baton Alex had pulled from somewhere—where she was keeping it in jeans that skinny, she didn’t even want to guess.

“You’re gonna have some paperwork to fill out,” Alex grumbled.

“Is that about your sister being Supergirl?”

“How in the fuck—?”

“I’m a detective; I detect.”

“So you’re not just a bartender that’s great at reading people?”

“Nah, that was my gig in college, though, if it makes you feel any better.”

“It does not.”

“Fair enough. Anyway, if I’m gonna have to do paperwork, can I at least bring some of this dessert to go? I was promised a free meal…”

[jinkisbelly]

Queasy

Elllllo, here’s a modernish take on omegaverse, I wanted to explore the softer side, without the smut and stuff, uh It’s omegaverse so mm mpreg and other stuff that goes with it????? also mentions of puking? I don’t know if that’s a problem for some but u h

Rating: Pg, it’s fluff mostly. 

pairing: onkey 

w/c: about 2k

While they’re waiting for their flight to visit Kibum’s parents Jinki feels nauseous, and Kibum is prepared. 

The gate they were waiting at was packed. Jinki found the variety of people a little amusing. There were the people in pencil skirts and heels, and the ones in matching jumpsuits. Some looked like their blood was coffee, others were walking zombies, and the few others could be seen visibly waking up as they sipped on their crutch of choice. Jinki pouted a little. He missed coffee a lot more now that he couldn’t have it. Kibum had suggested an early morning flight to his parents so that they had time to relax before having to actually deal with being social. Kibum was quietly scrolling through his twitter feed, softly chuckling every now and again at something amusing, humming when he agreed with another. Jinki found that observing people was a little difficult with the bad taste in your mouth and nausea flooding his senses.

He laid back in his seat, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath to try and make the queasiness fade a little. All it did was cause him to catch the scent of the airport employee’s strong as hell perfume, and his nose scrunched unpleasantly. He turned to Kibum with a pout on his face, laying his chin on the man’s shoulder. “Bummie, I’m nauseous.”

Kibum reached over to grab the hand on his thigh, rubbing the back of Jinki’s hand with his thumb as he asked, “How bad is it?”

“On a scale of Lil to puke central, I’m at a strong gagging level.”

With a deep frown on his face, Kibum reached over into his carry on. He moved his hand around for a moment before he pulled out a pack of saltine crackers. He held them out to Jinki with a soft smile, “These should help a little.”

“Kibum~” He softened, his emotions getting the better of him slightly. Not only had he remembered to bring him saltines, they were the one brand that always seemed to work. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“That wasn’t my intention.” Kibum wrapped his arm around Jinki and kissed his hair. “We still have 30 minutes until we start boarding. Lay down Baby.”

After a little shifting Jinki was able to lay his head on Kibum’s thigh and bring his legs up onto the line of chairs. He gently nibbled on a cracker as Kibum moved his fingers through his hair. Jinki’s eyes fluttered a little at the soothing gesture. He just hoped that the smelly airport employee stayed as far away from him as possible until he boarded the plane.

------

Kibum let Jinki board the plane first, walking a step behind him as he found their seat numbers that were printed on the tickets held in his hand. Once they found them Jinki took the window seat as Kibum put their carry on’s up. Usually, they would take turns getting the window seat. One would get it the way there and the other on the way back, but with Jinki’s uncomfortableness by touching at all recently Kibum gave his turn up to make sure he didn’t get brushed by someone going up and down the aisle. Once finished he slipped into his seat and pressed a kiss to Jinki’s cheek. “Feel any better?”

“A little.” Jinki pushed his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, palm over his tummy. “Our lil nugget is being good.”  

Jinki looked out the window at the rain pelting the wing of the plane as Kibum observed the last few people moving through the aisle to their seats. When that got boring he leaned his head on Jinki’s shoulder and curled his arm around Jinki’s to tug it closer. “I’m sleepy.”

“We’ll get to nap when we land right?”

“As long as we keep our nugget a secret, we’ll be free until dinner.”

“I’m stuck between wanting everyone to know,” Jinki softly said as he leaned his head against Kibum’s gently. “And wanting to keep it to ourselves until we leave because I don’t wanna be squished.”

Kibum patted Jinki’s hands that were still in his hoodie pouch. “If they try they’ll have to go through me. I won’t let them make you uncomfy.”

Jinki hummed gratefully as his eyes fluttered close. “How do you feel about in air naps?”

“It’ll ruin the naps in the big water bed at my parents’.”

The other was silent for a moment before he hummed, “That’s true. Must stay awake.”

“Hopefully it doesn’t get you sick.”

Jinki pouted deeply with a quiet whine, “Why did you have to think of that?”

“Heh, my bad.” Jinki just grumbled until the flight attendants began their pre-flight protocols.

-----

Half way through their flight Kibum was reading the book he brought with him and Jinki was entertaining himself with finding shapes in the clouds just outside his window. He was debating if a particular cloud looked more like a flamingo or a banana when the gross smell hit his nose. He wiggled a little in his seat and brought the hoodie over his nose so that his eyes and hair were the only things seen from the mass of fabric. Kibum glanced over at the extra movement and a little laugh left his lips at the sight. Jinki turned toward him, “You okay there Love?”

“Smelly person,” Jinki said in the cutest little voice. “Me Queasy.”

“Oh Baby, C’mere.” The book was closed and slid into the small backpack at his feet as he wrapped the other arm around Jinki, kissing his hair.

“Bad smells,” Jinki made a disgusted noise and nuzzled into Kibum as much as he could with the armrest between them. “I wanna land.”

“Only two more hours.” An almost too quiet of a whine left Jinki’s lips and Kibum chuckled as he kissed his hair. “I know Baby, I know.”

-----

When they finally landed Kibum’s older brother was waiting for them. Jinki smiled fondly as his mate ran to his brother, both alphas colliding in a mess of limbs as rushed words of excitement. Jinki slowly pulled their carry on behind him as he made his way over. Kibum’s brother’s eyes landed on Jinki with a smile. “Hey Jinki.”

“It’s good to see you Kwangsu.” The smile on his face fell as the man hugged him. He looked at Kibum uncomfortably as he awkwardly put his arms around Kwangsu.

“Let’s get going,” Kibum said, causing his brother to remove himself from Jinki, “We’ve been looking forward to napping in the guest room all flight.”

“Ah, right, sorry. C’mon.” He flashed a smile as he took the luggage from Jinki. Kibum fell back to wrap an arm around Jinki’s shoulders.

Jinki was about to say he could pull his own damn luggage, but Kibum was squeezing his shoulder and quietly saying, “ It’s a pride thing.”

With a reluctant sigh, he settled for being snuggled. His mood changed the moment he was climbing into that water bed, arms open for Kibum who was locking the door and kicking off his pants.

-------

Kibum had been right when he said they would be free until dinner. They weren’t bothered at all until the food was about finished and someone was sent to knock on their door. If the smell of dumplings hadn’t reached his nose, Jinki would have been completely content staying in that room of silence wrapped up in Kibum’s entire being, but food and his grumbling stomach called. He carefully moved to the edge of the bed. Napping without feeling sick had been a success, but he didn’t want to push his luck by moving too much on the jiggly bed.  He was slipping on his pants when Kibum came around to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be helping my Mom with the last few things. Join us when you’re ready Baby.”

“I just have to find my sock.” Which was harder than he anticipated. He found it under the comforter than had fallen off the end of the bed about ten minutes later. Once it was secure on his foot he shuffled out. He found Kibum sitting on the other side of the table and quickly made his way over there.

His hand was gently squeezed after he had slid into his seat. “I was about to come look for you.”

“My sock wanted to play an unplanned game of hide-n-seek.” Jinki’s tummy grumbled when the rolls were brought into the room, causing Kibum and the other members of the family around the table to laugh. Jinki blushed, embarrassed. “Sorry. I haven’t eaten since the tiny pretzels on the plane.”

“It’s perfectly alright son,” Kibum’s father softly said with a laugh, “The hungrier the better I always say.”

“That’s a good motto for my cooking if I do say so myself,” Kibum’s mother smiles wide as she directed Kwangsu to set the bird on the table in the middle. “Dinner’s served!”

Kibum pulled off a leg of the turkey and softly laid it on Jinki’s plate as the man worked on getting a piece of that gorgeous bread into his mouth. Jinki lost track of the conversation as he focused on eating. He was moving to get more corn when the volume of the voices around him skyrocketed. He looked around bewildered, mid motion of bringing the corn over. It took him a moment to make everything not so murky sounding. “Congratulations! That’s amazing.” Kibum’s mother happily squealed.

Jinki looked over at Kibum, eyes wide and confused. The Alpha looked positively flustered and guilty. “It slipped, I’m sorry.”

“Wha-”

“I knew there was something different about you,” His mother continued, cutting Jinki off. “I wish you had told me sooner I would have gotten special tea for you.”

So many questions were thrown his way and it all got very muddy and overstimulating. Kibum’s father was touching his hand. The gesture was probably meant to be supportive and comforting, but all it did was make him want to curl into a ball. “Excuse me, I have to use the restroom.”

Kibum followed him with his gaze like a hawk on a mouse and was quick to grab his mother’s wrist when she moved to hug Jinki as he walked past her. She sat back down bewildered and aghast at his actions. “What was that for?”

“Jinki doesn’t feel comfortable with a lot of touching right now.” He answered after the bathroom door clicked close. “So if you wouldn’t mind holding off on the physical support it would mean a lot.”

“Understood.” Kibum relaxed against the back of his chair as his family resumed eating. He gazed around the corner for any sign of Jinki when his mother’s voice brought back his attention. “Oh Goodness! This means we can go shopping at the boutiques tomorrow. They have the cutest baby things.”

“We only found out a couple weeks ago,” Kibum stressed, “We really don’t need to look into buying anything extra right now.”

“Nonsense.” She shook her head with her words, “It’s never too early to buy things for the baby. I bought a lot of things each day I found out I was pregnant.”

Kibum groaned. “I get to come right?”

“Oh darling no!” She answered with a tone of concern. “Those boutiques are no place for an Alpha.”

He really missed the more open society of Jinki’s reservation, the place he now called home. Jinki finally returned just before he was about to go to see if anything was wrong. Still, Kibum leaned over to whisper in his ear, “Everything okay?”

Jinki smiled over at him, but Kibum could see how uncomfortable and taken off guard he was feeling. “Just felt a little sick is all.”

Kibum didn’t buy it one bit, but his family seemed to. “Oh, morning sickness is the worst. I had it so badly with my dear Kibummie.”

“Ma~” He whined. When Jinki softly laughed, it was genuine. He leaned over and pressed a long kiss to the man’s cheek, and whispered, “I love you.”

Jinki smiled softly at him and squeezed his knee under the table. “I love you too.”

-------

[toldnews-blog]

New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/world/christchurch-shootings-new-zealand-in-shock-after-mosque-attacks/

Christchurch shootings: New Zealand in shock after mosque attacks

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Media captionChristchurch was put into lockdown as events unfolded

New Zealand is in mourning after 49 people were killed at two mosques in the country’s deadliest-ever shooting.

PM Jacinda Ardern described Friday’s shooting in the city of Christchurch as one of New Zealand’s “darkest days”.

Flowers have been left outside mosques across the country as worried families wait for news of missing loved ones.

A gunman believed to be a white supremacist live-streamed the rampage. A man in his late 20s has been arrested and is due to appear in court.

Two other people are in custody. No names have been made public.

A total of 48 people were wounded in the shootings. The identities of the dead and wounded have not been released.

Bangladesh, India and Indonesia all say some of their citizens were killed in the shooting and others are unaccounted for.

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Media captionJacinda Ardern: “This can only be described as a terrorist attack”

Security remains tight across Christchurch. All mosques in New Zealand have been closed.

How events unfolded

The first report of an attack came from the Al Noor mosque in central Christchurch during Friday prayers at 13:40 (00:40 GMT).

A gunman drove to the front door, entered and fired on worshippers for about five minutes.

The gunman, who live-streamed the attack from a head-mounted camera, said he was a 28-year-old Australian called Brenton Tarrant. The footage showed him shooting at men, women and children.

A survivor told the New Zealand Herald newspaper how he escaped through a window.

Moroccan-born Nour Tavis said he was in the front row when the shooting started.

“People were running and all of a sudden you saw them fall,” he said. He saw someone smash a window. “I followed… it was the safest place to get out.”

One of his friends lost his wife, he told the newspaper.

“When she heard the noise she wanted to go and make sure her husband was safe,” he said. “She got the bullet, her husband got away.”

Social media’s role in Christchurch attack

UK mosque security under review

Image copyright AFP

Image caption Flowers were placed at a mosque in the capital, Wellington, and others around New Zealand

The gunman is then said to have driven about 5km (three miles) to another mosque in the suburb of Linwood where the second shooting occurred.

One witness described how one of the worshippers had managed to disarm the man, who ran to a waiting car outside.

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Media captionEyewitness: “My hands were shaking so hard”

It is not clear where the arrests were made.

Police say they recovered firearms from both mosques, and explosive devices were found in a car belonging to one of the suspects.

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Media captionPictures on social media show an arrest being made after the New Zealand mosque shootings

According to the latest census figures, Muslims make up about 1.1% of New Zealand’s population of 4.25 million.

Numbers rose sharply as New Zealand took in refugees from various war-torn countries since the 1990s.

The main suspect

Social media accounts in the name of Brenton Tarrant were used to post a lengthy, racist document in which the author identified the mosques that were later attacked.

The man says he began planning an attack after visiting Europe in 2017 and being angered by events there.

The document is called “The Great Replacement” – a phrase that originated in France and has become a rallying cry for European anti-immigration extremists.

Although New Zealand police said they had charged a man in his late 20s with murder, they did not identify him.

Cricket team escapes attack

The attack happened as players from the visiting Bangladesh national cricket team were on their way to pray at Al Noor mosque.

They were “minutes” from being inside, team manager Khaled Mashud told the BBC.

Bangladesh was due to play New Zealand on Saturday but the match has been cancelled.

He added that the team were “safe and sound” at their hotel but would travel home “in the coming days”.

“Players were crying in the bus, they all were mentally affected,” the former wicketkeeper said.

Global reaction

“It is clear that this can now only be described as a terrorist attack,” Prime Minister Ardern told reporters.

In a tweet, she said: “What has happened in Christchurch is an extraordinary act of unprecedented violence. It has no place in New Zealand. Many of those affected will be members of our migrant communities – New Zealand is their home – they are us.”

US President Donald Trump offered his “warmest sympathy and best wishes” to New Zealand. “The US stands by New Zealand for anything we can do. God bless all!” he wrote.

UK Prime Minister Theresa May offered her “deepest condolences to the people of New Zealand”.

The Queen said she was “deeply saddened by the appalling events in Christchurch today. Prince Philip and I send our condolences”.

Pope Francis offered his “heartfelt solidarity” and was “deeply saddened to learn of the injury and loss of life caused by the senseless acts of violence”, Vatican Secretary of State Pietro Parolin said in a telegram.

German Chancellor Angela Merkel said she mourned “with New Zealanders for their fellow citizens who were attacked and murdered out of racist hatred while peacefully praying in their mosques”.

And French President Emmanuel Macron called it an “odious attack” and said France stood “against any form of extremism”.

Are you in the area? Did you witness the attacks? If it is safe to do so please get in touch by emailing haveyoursay@Toldnews.co.uk.

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