#but she does support mason with her whole body

[selfmadesaviour]

quotes that broke me:

accepting / not accepting @immxvable as will graham said "this whole time, i've blamed myself for that decision."

her movement halts. every thread of muscle in her body goes taut like a bowstring, and for a moment she only stares at him. then her fingers flex, curling into fists and then spreading wide again. she takes a few steps toward him, closes the distance between them just a little.

they are standing on soft, green grass beneath a widely reaching, ancient oak. the afternoon sun is low on the sky, but the air is still warm with the late summer heat.

but margot is freezing. every ounce of blood in her veins have turned to ice, angry crystals that cut through her with the same excruciating pain as the ache of every breath she forces down exhausted lungs.

she stares at him incredulously for a long moment, disbelief and anger mingling in her gaze while she tries to find the words to explain the emotions that mingle in her chest as his statement truly sink into her consciousness.

this whole time, i have blamed myself for that decision.

is it meant to reassure, comfort? is he seeking understanding or forgiveness, looking for a way to mend something they didn't need to build in the first place? does he want her to pity him?

which decision is he referring to?

she decides to start there, and her gaze drifts toward the smooth stone in the ground before them, and then she forces it back up to will's face. her expression is set in the same ice that runs through her own heart, eyes fiery with anger and lips drawn in a scowl. "which one? not feeling guilty that doctor lecter told mason about the pregnancy, being more concerned with your ego being bruised? sticking with him despite everything he did? leaving my wife bleeding and broken on the pavement?"

the words spill out of her before she can think to stop them. alana wasn't hers when she was pushed out a window and left to die, and will's relationship to hannibal is more complicated than she gives him credit for. and, to be fair, tricking will to impregnate her wasn't exactly fair play or done out of the kindness of her heart.

but her brother was a devil, and will must have known. must have known what would happen when hannibal told mason about her situation, must have known the extent of pain she was put through as a result. he must have known what would happen.

or so she tells herself, because she needs a scapegoat. and standing here, listening to will talk about her loss like it was his to grieve, like the boy buried in the warm earth beneath her feet was something he was ever supposed to as much as suspect existed -- she can't do it. the pain and the frustration mingle in her body until she is burning hot with rage and despair.

mason is gone. he did not get a long, outdrawn torture or slow, suffering end. he died too quick, too easy, and there is no outlet for the betrayal and grief that margot simply does not know how to get rid of. but there's will. and he's standing there, feeling sorry for himself, and it is simply too much.

"you were never supposed to know. i was not going to demand child support or keep in touch with you, send an eighteen year old to your door and break your life apart when you least expect it. you needed a distraction, i needed a man to help me out. you played a role in william's suffering and death, and i hope you never sleep again."

perhaps she is being unfair. perhaps will was simply a pawn, perhaps he deserved to know his child. and in a way it is clear she doesn't actually despise the man standing beside her on the grass, as the sun sets over smooth stone engraved with a father's first name and a mother's last. she named the boy after will, gave the both of them that little gesture as she held the breathless infant in her arms.

every time she closes her eyes, she sees that. her baby, lips tinted aegean and smooth skin shades of ivory, chest still and voice silent because his heart no longer beat. fully grown, when alana cut him out and pulled him into margot's arms. ten fingers, ten toes. dark lashes and the sweetest ears margot had ever seen. will's nose, and lips. lips that were parted as if her son had been trying to take a breath.

every time she tries to sleep, she sees her lifeless son and remembers that she played an equal role. she was too late. too caught up in her loss to realise what mason had done, too busy being hurt and angry to search and save the baby. she was too late, and didn't do enough.

so she sends every breath of anger in hateful arrows aimed at will's heart. mason is gone, hannibal is locked away, and she can not allow her guilt and anger to truly turn inward; not when alana needs her to be all right. their baby, the pregnancy she is terrified to hope for, needs her to stay alive.

she throws the anger toward the man beside her, and then her knees give in and she drops into a slouched heap by the stone, running fingertips across the grooves that form william verger above a heart. her own heart is broken despite the pounding it does against her ribs, and there is no undoing it. no bringing him back.

eyes close in an attempt to force the tears back, and a familiar image travels across her inner eyelids. pale skin, a chest that doesn't heave with breaths, eyes that will never open.

she has no idea how to move past this.

[masonxomount]

I know I said I'd shut up about this BUT

Just found out my parents are taking me to Portsmouth next month to look around cause it's where they went to uni, so should I go and take photos where the tattoo girl took some ✨💖🥰 and post the comparison photos on twitter cause I'm just so random 😜

[boldlyvoid]

forever is the sweetest con | Chip Taylor x Reader

18+

Summary: Reader's dad is a carpenter; sometimes he takes on apprentices and sometimes, if they're lucky, they get his daughter's number at the end of their training. Chip Taylor, however, hits the jackpot when her father invites him over for one of her homecooked meals.

Warnings: reader's mom passed away, mentions of parental death, strangers to lovers, random acts of kindness, mutual pining, falling in love, steamy make-outs, oral sex (male and female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, sub!chip, food mentions, praise, love confessions.

word count: 6.2k

a/n: thank you @samuel-de-champagne-problems for requesting a chip fic!! i am in love with him and also yes this plot is something that happened to my parents, however, my mom is still alive and my dad does give my Instagram out to the men who subcontract for him lmao!

Her father was a carpenter, and he often took on apprentices. You see, he had to learn everything on his own to make his way in life and support his family, he was willing to help other men do the same thing. And so every night he would come home from work and talk about whatever idiot he was teaching this week.

“His name is Chip,” her father emphasized the p with confusion, “what is that even short for?”

“It’s short for Charles,” she couldn’t help but laugh, “is he at least more competent than that Mason kid?”

“Much!” He rolled his eyes, “although I did have to teach him how to put crown moulding in today, he’s a quick learner and you can tell he’s just following what they teach at the schools but I know the hacks.”

“I know, Dad,” she smiled. “Is he cute? Single?”

She’s been on dates with most of the guys he’s worked with, mainly because they went to her high school back in the day, but also because her father was trying to play matchmaker. Ever since her mother died, she’s been taking care of him and he just wanted her to have some fun outside of the house. She needed a life in his eyes.

She was content working at the diner and serving people food all day just to come home and take care of her father. He worked hard to make sure they stayed afloat after her mom, the least she could do is make him dinner and a sandwich for lunch the next day.

“He is actually,” he shrugged, “he’s a yes man, you’d probably really like him.”

“Why’s that?” She asked, waiting for whatever snide comment he was going to make to jokingly piss her off.

“Your aunt Lisa only married your uncle Jason because he was a yes man and she could wear the pants, and you’ve always been just like her,” he explained it nicer than she expected.

“Give him my number next time you work with him?” She asks nicely, taking his plate from the table and moving it to the sink.

“Good luck chip,” she hears him mumble under his breath.

It makes her laugh, she loves her relationship with her father and the friendly environment they were able to keep after everything that’s happened to their family. They always laughed together, he was always cracking jokes and even when they were shouting obscenities at each other it came from a place of love, “fuck-head” was a term of endearment in their home.

—

He brings Chip home with him without telling her, she’s been home all day cleaning the house; her hair is a mess and she’s all sweaty, and he really is cute. She made enough food for an army so it wasn’t a problem in her father’s eyes, saying “doesn’t she always look beautiful? It’s fine Y/N.”

“Yeah,” Chip agreed with a small smile and a blush that roared red down his neck. "You're very beautiful."

She cleans up a bit before dinner, brushing her hair and changing into a nice sundress. She adds some perfume and shakes the anxiety out of her body, he was just one of her dad’s friends from work. And he happened to be incredibly adorable.

Returning to find them talking about how he fixed their frozen pipes in the winter with a hairdryer. It was the most basic shit to her and yet Chip was fascinated like he’s never heard any of these things before. He’s holding a beer in his hands with a leg crossed as he leans on the sofa and he’s so cute…

He’s in his work jeans and his shirt is all sweaty, and his hair is curled on the ends from all the hard work. His hands are dirty and he smells like sawdust and home. She’s not listening to a single thing they’re talking about, she’s just staring at the way his face moves when he talks and how sweet his laugh is.

He loves dinner, he’s beyond thankful and even more so for dessert. She made homemade banana bread with the bananas they had, they were going to go bad if she didn’t. It wasn’t anything special but he acted like she made his whole day.

He helps bring all the dishes into the kitchen, standing beside her as she fills the sink with water, “do you have a towel? I could help dry.”

“I know where everything is, how about you wash and I dry?” She compromises with a smile, and he’s more than happy to oblige.

She learns a little about him, he’s kind and friendly and he seems to crave the feeling of family that being in her home provides. He doesn’t want to stop washing dishes because then he has to go home, and he doesn’t look like he really wants to do that either.

“Do you need a ride home, Chip?” She asks as he lets the sink water out, “I was thinking about going to get some ice cream if you want to join me?”

“I would love to,” he smiles again, “thank you, Y/N.”

—

She understands everything when she drops him off at his tiny, little, run-down apartment; he’s going to be all alone as soon as he leaves her car and she hates that for him. He was so nice it was hard to believe that he didn’t have a nice partner and a house and kids by now.

“I wouldn’t mind if you came over for dinner after all your shifts with my dad? Just text me before so I make enough dinner?” She offers with butterflies swarming in her stomach.

“You’re too kind to me,” he replies, unable to meet her eyes as she turns to him.

“I just want more time to look at you,” she teases, “you’re really handsome.”

He lights up, “you think so?”

She nods with a small laugh, pushing air through her nose as she leans in more, “and you’re nice and funny, and your voice is cute.”

He’s stunned as his eyes flick back and forth from hers to her lips, his lips are parted as he tries to breathe but fails, he looks like no one has ever told him that before.

“Are you working with my dad tomorrow?” She changes the topic so that he can focus once more.

“I should be,” he replies just soft enough for her to hear.

“Would you like a sandwich for lunch? My dad said often the guys don’t bring that much with them to eat, I wouldn’t mind making you a sandwich too?”

She’s not sure why she feels the need to take him in and care for him but she does. She wants to wrap him up in a hug and make his meals and tuck him in at night. He just has this aura that calls for love and she desperately wants to give it to him.

He leans forward and kisses her, she kisses back instinctively and reaches to hold his face. His cheeks are soft as she runs her thumb along the skin, she pulls back only to press a few more pecks to his lips.

“You're something else,” he whispers against her lips before stealing another kiss.

He’s sweet, he tastes like vanilla ice cream and she just wants more. She kisses him again and again, eventually licking at his bottom lip and desperately whining to make out with him. She hasn’t felt this needy since she was a high schooler, but something in Chip made her feel alive.

She is leaning so far into his space she might as well get into his seat too. She moves to kiss his jaw and down his neck and he’s nothing but hands as he feels all over her back.

“Do you want to come inside?” He whispers, scared but just as desperate as she is.

“I shouldn’t,” she says before continuing her trail of kisses down his neck.

She can’t leave any marks because her father will know, but she also doesn’t care. He’d probably just give him a high five and move on with his day. She wanted to be even closer to him, she wanted to sit in his lap and kiss him for hours just because she could.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he tries to persuade her, “it just might be more comfortable for this?”

“Alright.”

He holds her hand on the walk up to his apartment, she likes how much he already feels like hers. He shows her inside and before the door is even closed she’s connecting their lips once again. He moans into her mouth at the feeling of his back colliding with the door and her hands are immediately roaming his shirt.

He’s such a good kisser, he is gentle and soft, he isn’t overly eager and controlling. He lets her explore and slow it down as she presses in closer to him and his hands wander to her hips. She places one of her thighs between his and grinds herself even closer to him.

He’s hard against her hip and the prospect of sleeping with him is so enticing but she knows she can't, at least not yet. It would be too quick, she wants to just appreciate him like this. Her kisses trail from his lips to his ear and he’s still a whining mess, but he’s completely still as she sets the pace of her grinding. He’s not pushing her to do anything or move this along, he’s just letting her explore everywhere… he’s so different.

“I don’t want to have to do laundry tonight,” he whispers with a smirk, moving his hands down to block her from grinding on his erection anymore.

She just undoes his belt and pushes his jeans to the floor before resuming the same position as before, this time she pulls her dress up and rests the clothed tip of his cock in just the right spot under her.

He’s holding her closer again, his arms wrapping almost all the way around her as his big hands grab handfuls of her skin in a desperate attempt to be closer to her. She keeps kissing his neck, they’re more open-mouthed and breathy than she intends but he just feels so good under her.

No one has ever made her feel this desperate before, something about him made her want to devour him whole. His sounds were delicious, his skin even more so, she couldn’t help herself from nipping and sucking at his neck as he made more beautiful noises.

She was so close and she could tell he wasn’t far behind, “let go, Chip,” she whispers in his ear, “cum with me.”

She grinds down hard one final time and he’s a shaking, moaning mess. It’s the feeling of the wet patch in his underwear and the feeling of him shudder that sends her over the edge, panting into his neck as they hold each other close against the door.

He turns them around, taking her by the waist and manhandling her until she’s the one against the door. His lips are on her neck and it’s like his orgasm has only enticed him to go further, “you’re too good to me.”

“You deserve good things Chip,” she whispers as her hand comes up to grip his hair as he continues to kiss her neck.

“Let me say thank you,” he whispers as he drops to his knees and pushes her dress up as she reaches to pull it up for him.

She spreads her legs as he moves her panties to the side and dives in. Spreading her with two fingers he sucks her clit into his mouth first and she tugs on his hair so tight he moans against her. Sending another shockwave through her body as he built another orgasm up.

He’s so good with his mouth, her legs are quaking as she tries to stay standing against the door. She can feel him everywhere but it’s still not enough, she wants him deep inside of her but she knows it’s way too soon to even be doing this. She has never gone this fast with someone before but she couldn’t stop, he felt too amazing.

“Chip,” she chanted his name, tugging on his hair tighter to get him to moan against her and send her over the edge once again.

She ruts against his tongue, fucking his face as she rides it out and he is more than happy to keep going as long as she wants him to and it feels so good she might just stay there. But the twitches get too intense and the whine she makes lets him know she’s done as he kisses back up her body.

Supporting her against the door, he presses his body against her once more. Taller than her, he tilts her chin up so she can look him in the eyes, his chin and nose are glistening with her cum and somehow he’s still cute.

She kisses him on the lips quickly, “when I can feel my legs again, I need to head home.”

When she leaves, she just sits in her car for a few minutes as she settles even more. Then she heads to the grocery store on the way home to get nice things for his sandwich tomorrow, because any man who can make her cum twice in 10 minutes deserves the best sandwich.

—

Waking up at 6 in the morning to make sandwiches is normally a chore, she sometimes makes them the night before so she doesn’t have to worry and can sleep in, this morning she wants to put all the tender loving care into these lunches. Her dad has noticed, he’s eyeing her down from the living room as he has his morning cereal and she knows he wants to ask.

“I didn’t sleep with him if that’s what you’re wondering.” Her voice is just loud enough for him to shoot her a listening glance.

“Oh, but you’re making him a sandwich?”

“You should see his apartment complex,” her expression drops, “ and after the way he devoured dinner last night, I just knew he hasn’t been taken care of in forever. And he’s so nice?”

He smiles, “your mom did the same thing for me.”

“You’ve never told me the story,” she reminds him.

He gets up and walks over to the kitchen, leaning against the counter so they can look at each other. His expression is soft, he’s an overly kind man and it was the thing she loved most about him.

“Your grandfather and I worked at a company making refrigerators, I was new to the state and had nothing and so he brought me home for dinner,” he smiles at the memory.

“Her parents got divorced soon after and her mom was having trouble with the bills so I moved in and I helped, and every morning your mom woke up and she made me a sandwich as a thank you.”

“Oh,” she smiled at the recollection, they really were having the same little love story. “Well, I’m thinking about making fish for dinner, would you ask Chip if he likes it? I’ve invited him over for dinner after all his shifts with you.”

He laughs in a huff, he’s proud of her— and himself. He finally found a good one for her.

—

She outdoes herself for dinner. The food is amazing, the table is set, and she’s all dolled up for him. Her dad thinks it’s cute and he doesn’t mind being the third wheel, they all talk to each other like he’s been having dinner with them for years.

He helps clean up after dinner and her dad falls asleep watching Jeopardy in the living room like normal. She wraps her arms around his waist and rests her head on his back while he’s still doing the dishes, he’s still all sweat from work but she doesn’t care, she wants to give him a hug.

“What’s this for?” He whispers, placing a wet hand over hers on his stomach.

“Do I need a reason to hug you?” She counters.

“No,” he turns around in her grip so that he can give her a real hug. Wet hands on her back and everything.

She held him there, leaning against him as he leaned against the sink. His heartbeat was quick and he still smelled like sawdust and hard work, but he was warm and soft and it felt so right to just be there.

“Are you working with my dad tomorrow?”

“I will be for the rest of the month,” he confirms her hopes; he was going to be around often.

“Would it be alright if I asked you to stay the night?” She whispers incredibly soft for only him to hear.

He nods against her before taking her hand and leading her outside to the porch. They close the house door softly and then she’s back in his arms, “are you sure?”

She looks up at him and he’s even more beautiful today than he was yesterday, “I can take you back to your place to get some things? It would be nice to send you off to work in the morning.”

“You’ve decided that I’m yours now, haven’t you?” He teased her with a smile, perfectly fine with that.

She nods again, “you could move in tomorrow if you wanted, I’m not sure what’s possessed me to take you in like this, but I really don’t want to let you go.”

He delicately places his hands on her cheeks and pulls her into a kiss, it’s soft and short and he’s quick to look at her again.

“You can have me,” he whispers, “forever, if you want.”

It makes her laugh, “that's the sweetest con you know, you promise yourself to me forever and yet you have no idea if you can stay that long.”

He nods in agreement, “what if I promise my hardest to stay?”

“Okay,” she smiles again, leaning forward and kissing him again, finally.

—

The month is coming to an end and he’s slept beside her almost every single night, and even with that, they’re still taking it slow. They go on dates on the weekends, they make out in her car, he drives her to work, she kisses him at the door every morning he stays with them and they’ve done almost everything but have sex together.

They didn’t feel the need to yet, everything that was leading up to it was fun and interesting. She’s enjoyed sneaking around with him to get each other off back and forth, like an adult game of tag.

She’d blow him in the car on the way back to his apartment after dinner, or he’d come and pick her up after a shift at the diner only for them to end up making out in by the back door, and his hand always ended up in her panties. It was an interesting month of getting to know each other, but she wanted more now.

Her dad is going out of town on a fishing trip with his buddies this weekend, she’s booked time off and Chip has no idea what is in store for him. She plans a dinner, she gets all dressed up for him, there are candles and music and it’s perfect.

He’s amazed by the whole thing and she can really tell he’s been mostly alone for his whole life, he looks at a simple home-cooked meal like it was a million dollars and he was beyond grateful for everything. He almost cries he’s so thankful for the time and effort she puts into taking care of him.

He goes to pick up the plates and bring them to the kitchen as soon as their meal is over, “ah, ah, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Cleaning up for you?” Chip answers with a nervous tone that she hasn’t heard before.

“Don’t you want dessert?”

“I can bring it out for you, stay there,” he offers and then frowns when she stands anyway.

“You’re looking at it,” she whispers as she enters his space.

She takes the dishes from his hands and places them on the counter before wrapping her arms around him, “my dad isn’t going to be home until Sunday night.”

“Oh,” he whispers back before his hands reach for her ass and he’s picking her up.

Her legs wrap around his waist and she grips his shoulders for dear life as he hurries them up the stairs and towards her bedroom.

He’s incredibly strong for such a skinny guy, although he was filling out the longer he knew her. He makes it up the stairs and through her door as she gets a head start at kissing his neck until he has her pressed against the door.

“What’s with you and doors?” She teases as he rests her back on her feet, she draws him in closer to her so their chests are pressed together and she can look up into those sweet honey brown eyes.

“I’m just impatient.”

“Too bad, baby,” she teases, “I’m making you take your time with me tonight.”

“Yes ma’am,” he responded with a smirk, “I’m here to please you,” he whispered as he leaned in more.

Attaching his lips to her neck he kissed towards her ear, “to thank you,” he took a fistful of her hair and moved it out of the way before kissing down towards her shoulder. “To show you how much I appreciate everything you do for me.”

She pushed him back enough to get Chip to stop kissing her neck, instead, pressing her lips against his. Kissing him deeply before running her tongue across Chip’s bottom lip as a request to make out with him.

Making out with Chip was something she did often, yet it felt like not enough every time. His plump lips and velvety soft tongue, soft touches and rough stubble rubbing against her chin and cheeks.

He smelled like oak after a storm, it was warm and electric and delicious. She dipped her face into the curve of Chip’s neck and took a whiff before attacking him with open-mouthed kisses.

He giggled, his hands her hips now, the pads of his fingers going up and his nails trailing back down over the fabric of her dress, the perfect motion to make the hair on her body stand up.

She reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it up, separating from his neck so she had room to pull it off of him before reconnected their mouths. Kissing him deeply then pushing him onto the bed, watching Chip get comfortable before she crawled on top.

They wasted no time getting back into the groove of things, tongues clashing and hips grinding, soft moans in each other's mouths, hands roaming everywhere. She reached between them to undo his belt and the button of his jeans so his dick wasn’t rubbing against the zipper. Making out like that was some of the most fun she ever had, she could do it for hours on end.

She pulled back, kneeling above Chip, she grabbed his open belt and pulled it through all the loops and chucked it towards the floor. She massaged her hand over the bulge in his pants as she got closer to his crotch, watching as Chip threw his head back to moan.

She fiddled with the waistband, wanting to pull them down, Chip lifted his ass up ever so slightly for her to do so, she pulled his pants and boxers all the way off and threw them to the floor as well. Spreading Chip’s legs and taking him in her hand, finally. She dipped down ever so slightly and licked the tip and he let out a beautiful cry as his hips bucked. She loved his noises, she loved seeing what new ones she could make and he was more than willing to show her.

Chip gasped and reached out to grip her hair, she took that as an invitation to suck his dick, she wrapped her mouth around the tip, slipping her way down as far as she could go before bobbing back up. It was slow and sensual, she made sure to cover all of him; jerking what didn’t fit in her mouth, dipping down even further to kiss his balls and suck one into her mouth.

The people she’s been with before had never been reactive, they either gave her praise or roughly directed her deeper and deeper till she choked. Chip was different though, making soft noises that sounded like ‘yes’ and ‘god’, his little gasps and stutters of breath were the cutest things. It just encouraged her to do it more.

She pulled off, looking up at Chip who was just staring at her softly. If she knew anything about giving a blowjob she knew what her face probably looked like.. eyes blown out in passion and lips swollen bright red. It was a sight he loved to see, his hand slipped down to cup her cheek and then down to his chin where he used his thumb to brush her bottom lip.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

She crawled back up and sat on his hips, taking the hem of her dress in her hands and pulling it over her head. She was wearing a nice matching underwear set for him, nothing too fancy because she knew it would just end up on the floor anyway.

She leaned back down, attaching their mouths once again, he wrapped his arms around her back and slowly rolled them over safely. Now on top of her, looking up into Chip’s eyes was a blessing. He blinked a few times, making sure it was real and he wasn’t dreaming that the most beautiful girl in the world was looking at him like that.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked gently with pleading eyes that let her know he was desperate to touch her however she pleased.

“Make me yours, Chip.”

“I think you always have been,” he replied.

His beautiful sweaty curls drooping over his eyes, she smiled as she brushed them back. Petting his face softly as she looked at him, he was so beautiful. The light was bouncing off the wall just enough to illuminate him.

“How do you want to do it?” She whispered.

“Let’s just go where the rhythm takes us,” Chip’s voice dropped low as he did, pressing their chests together, close enough to kiss as he rubbed their noses together softly.

She kissed him, wrapping her hands around his neck and pulling him in more. He squeezed his arms between her back and the mattress, wrapping himself around her. he decided to reach into her panties with his free hand.

He took a moment to admire her chest, she had caught him staring before. He constantly used them as a pillow, he wanted to touch them so badly, so she leaned forward and let him unhook her bra. Pulling it from her body and towards the floor.

She could sense his hesitation, taking both his hands off her sides and guiding them to her breasts. He whimpered as he felt them, she closed her eyes at the feeling. A small moan escaping her lips as he groped her. His big hands felt amazing, so strong and gentle, rough and yet soothing. Perfection against her skin.

She leaned back against the bed then, leaving him sitting up on her hips. Her boobs flattening out into a funny shape as she laid back, making her smirk in embarrassment. Only making Chip love them more, diving in and kissing the newly exposed skin.

He dragged his bottom lip over her skin between kisses. Leaving a trail of where he’s been already. She had a hand in his hair, holding it out of his face as she watched him.

Panting as she tried to grind up against him, the arousal in her core was overpowering. She needed to feel more, she wanted all of him. She was addicted to him already, hoping she’ll have forever with him.

She was too hot, feeling the sweat gather behind her knees as she tried to find more friction against him. She didn’t mind all the exploring he was doing, it was a wonderful appetizer, but she was nowhere close to being full.

He pulled back then to sit on his knees between her legs before Chip slowly slipped her underwear off. Raising her hips softly before resting her ass back in his lap and spreading her legs.

Fully on display for him, she played with her nipples slightly. Knowing how much he loved her boobs, watching her with a slack jaw as his hands ran up her legs.

He snapped back into the moment when she pushed her ass down against him, a whimper slipping past his lips as he placed his thumb on her clit, rubbing gentle circles into the bundle of nerves.

With his pointer finger, on the other hand, he traced around her entrance, not pushing in, just exploring the wetness as it dripped out. She tightened up on command, seeing his breath hitch as his finger almost slipped in.

“Please?” She begged, arching her back more so that he could finger her.

“Can we try something?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, resting on her forearms as she leaned forward.

“If I lay back would you, um,” he couldn’t say the words. They felt too filthy leaving his mouth, pointing at his face instead.

She sat up then, pushing him back against the pillows and settling herself over his chest and gripping the headboard for support, Chip wrapped his arms around her hips and guided her forward more.

Her legs were already trembling in anticipation as she hovered over his face, feeling his breath right on her core, Without warning, he sucked her clit into his mouth.

“Fuck,” she gasped as she smacked her forehead against the blocked window behind her bed, hoping to god no one could see through the blinds.

He pushed one finger in as his tongue played with her clit. She couldn’t help rocking her hips against his face, helping him get deeper inside of her. He curled his finger, lightly fucking her with it as he sucked, licked, kissed her pussy.

She was a mess, shaking over top of him as she tried to keep her orgasm in. Not wanting to cum yet, wanting to feel all of him inside of her before she did that. So he added a second finger, making her cry out in pleasure against the window without even trying.

Her orgasm ripped through her as she fucked his face, holding his hair with one hand as the other steadied her on the headboard. She couldn’t believe how intense it was, almost knocking the wind out of her as she road it out on his tongue.

He smiled against her, kissing her clit once more before pulling out and helping her back towards his lap. She wasted no time hovering over his cock as it strained on his stomach.

“Do you want to?” She asked, trying to control her breathing but still looking like a panting mess as she anticipated him.

“I’ll always want you,” he assures her with the sweetest smile.

She wraps her arms around him and rolls them over once more, he adjusts between her legs and drags himself along her overstimulated clit, she shudders at the feeling and then laughs at her own reaction.

“Ready?” He whispered.

She nodded, feeling Chip push in, she reached for his hands where they rested on her hips and interlocked their fingers. He bottomed out and dropped to hover over her, bringing their interlocked hands over her head.

She reached up to kiss him, Chip pushing into the kiss and making her settle into the pillow once again. It honestly felt like a movie scene, a first time between two star-crossed lovers. He pulled out ever so slightly before thrusting in again, she gasped against his mouth.

Chip trusted more while she pushed her hips into it as well, an offbeat rhythm developed in pure ecstasy. She let go of Chip’s hands to snake them around his waist, to run her fingers over the soft and slightly chilled skin of his back. Feeling the bump of his spine as Chip ducked into the crook of her neck, placing kisses along her collarbone.

Chip changed the position of his thrust as he wrapped his arms under her, arching her back ever so slightly to reach the bundle of nerves that left her a quivering mess. Y/N, in response to the added pleasure, ran her sharp nails down Chip’s back and he groaned at the feeling, “do that again.” he requested.

“Like that?” She asked, dragging his nails down him once more.

“Yeah,” Chip moaned, dark and deep.

The feeling of pure bliss overtook her body with each thrust, warm chills ran through him with each brush of his thumb on her clit. Every kiss to her neck and squeeze around her waist made her feel like she was on fire.

The hairs on her arms stood up, goosebumps formed along his forearms. Chip kissed from her neck to her nipple and took the hard nib into his mouth causing her to moan like she never had before.

“Chip,” she panted, pulling Chip’s face back up to his.

His eyes were absolutely blown out in pleasure, those golden wonders he used to stare into were now replaced solely by the pupils. She ran her thumb across Chip’s cheek before reaching to the nape of his neck to pull him into another kiss. Open mouths pressing together, hot air on each other's faces as they panted to the pleasure.

She was in heaven.

Her orgasm bubbled in her stomach, “are you close?” Chip whispered right beside her mouth, kissing her cheek lightly after.

She hummed, unable to speak with the mass amount of pleasure coursing through her body. Chip fucked into her a bit harder, a tiny bit faster, hitting her g-spot dead on each time to the point the nerves in her thighs were quaking uncontrollably.

She was so close, Chip used 3 fingers to quickly rub over her clit before she threw her head back with a shout. Cumming with her eyes pressed shut, pleasure coursed through her body stronger than she’s ever felt it before.

Nothing had ever made her cum that hard, ripping through her like her soul was leaving her body. She dug her nails deep into Chip’s skin holding him close to his body while he kept thrusting.

A high-pitched gasp left his lips, close to her ear as his hips sputtered into her’s one last time.

She still hadn’t opened her eyes, her breath rigid, she felt winded. Chip had stilled as he came inside of her and then collapsed into her, deadweight laying on her.

Chip mustered enough energy to prop himself upon his arm and look at her. Using his free hand he ran his thumb against her bottom lip once more to get her to open her eyes.

“Hi,” he whispered.

“Hi,” she replied with a smile.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded, smile growing, “that was amazing.”

“Better than you hoped?”

“I’ve thought of doing this for the last month, I knew it would be amazing but I never imagined it would be that good.” she complimented Chip, “I think I died when I came, no joke.”

He laughed, dropping himself back into the crook of her neck. He kissed her more, up to her ear and across her jaw to her lips. Soft small kissed followed by a long-drawn-out one. Chip pulled their lips apart with a smack.

“Let me clean us up,” he said.

At that moment she realized Chip was still in her, soft and all. He pulled out slowly it was always such a weird feeling to be empty again. He sat up and made his way off the bed, he went to her bathroom.

Coming back still naked, his dick bobbing between his legs, she loved the view. He had a thing of baby wipes with him, knowing exactly where she kept everything in her bathroom by now.

“I can do it,” she suggested, reaching for them.

Chip pulled them back away from her, “I want to.” he said softly.

Running the cold wipe over her soft skin, Chip looked mesmerized. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

“Thank you,” she replied with a shy smile, “can you come back up here now?”

He tossed the wipes onto her night table and cuddled right back into her naked body, she held onto him tightly so he wouldn’t escape. She knew he wouldn’t, but she loved him so much she never wanted to let go.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered into her neck. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same yet.”

“Are you kidding?” She laughed, pulling back so she could see his face as he looked up at her. “I think I’ve been in love with you since you walked in and said I was beautiful.”

He reaches for her cheeks and pulls her in for another kiss, “I’m going to love you forever.”

The words used to scare her, but now she looks at him and thinks they might be right for them.

“Forever it is, then.”

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[trentaafcsblog]

Midnight Memories

Mason Mount

This isn’t like him at all. Trapped in a crowd of drunk and disorderly people who are staggering around to the beat of the music, sloshing their drinks all over one another when the pink and purple strobe lights descend upon their bodies and start flashing in a series of random patterns, enhancing their alcohol-induced illusions and perceptions of the world as they flail their limbs around and claim they’re flying or walking on clouds - a stage that Mason isn’t willing to reach tonight, or any night, for that matter. 

A sea of girls in overly tight dresses and heels that barely support them crowding around him and slurring things in his ear. Running their fingers up his bare arms and begging for another drink as he awkwardly shakes his head and tries to break away from them, only for another person to grip onto him from the other side and smear their cheap sticky lipgloss all over his neck in an attempt to add ‘I kissed a footballer’ to their CV. “Just kiss meee” they whine, pouting in his face and trying to pull him closer before giving up and making a move on the next available man, one who’s willing to explore their mouths and buy them endless rounds of multicoloured shots for the rest of the night without gently shoving them away or not-so-subtly avoiding their alcohol-coated lips.

This isn’t your type of place either, although you’re five cocktails deep into the stack of pornstars that your friends insisted on ordering. A stain down the front of your white bodycon dress thanks to an escapee half a passion fruit that decided to leave your triangular glass in order to explore the vomit-tainted floor. Your lips all patchy now that your lipgloss has migrated to decorate the rim of your empty glasses with sparkly nude smudges, although you’re slightly relieved because it means that your hair won’t get coated in it anymore, and it minimises the evidence if you end up kissing someone too, not that you came here to do that, or risk putting yourself in the same category as the girls that are now trying to climb into the VIP section with a bunch of semi-famous people, all because they want a drunk kissing video to plaster across their social media, hoping that it takes them to the front of the papers in the morning for being such-and-such’s ‘mystery girl’.

You’re looking up at the VIP area cordoned off by security guards in black puffer jackets and walkie talkies in their hands, feeling an overwhelming sense of empathy for all of the people that have to tolerate that kind of behaviour. Your eyes start scanning across the section of the club that is far too expensive for just a few hours’ stay, wondering if you can recognise any famous faces, but it’s just the ‘I lasted one day in the Villa and still managed to secure a Pretty Little Thing brand deal’ Love Islanders and the friend of the friend of the friend of a semi-professional footballer that made one twelve minute appearance for Arsenal back in 2010 and thinks he’s God’s gift. All of them either eating each other’s faces or taking boomerangs of them cheers-ing their margaritas before having to retake the same video five times because they’ve lost several lime slices in the process and it’s ruining the aesthetic. Your focus sharpening on someone with their back to you and at least ten girls around them, taking it in turns to have a drunken selfie or begging him to buy them a bottle of champagne with one of those fancy sparkler things on the top that gets brought out by women wearing elaborate carnival-inspired feather headbands and very revealing dresses. And you can’t help but feel sorry for him because you can tell just from the back of his head that he’s incredibly uncomfortable, even more so when he gets offered a blowjob from a girl who’s now threatening to get her boobs out in exchange for a whole bottle of Don Julio, in a bucket of ice, just how she likes it.

He’s turning around to face the rest of the club just as you go to look away at the menu that’s being wafted under your nose by one of your friends, and you can’t help but do a double take at his familiarity. Squinting your eyes so that you can get a better look at his features. ‘Nice drink’ you think when your eyes catch the glass of Diet Coke in his hand, quite obviously not accompanied by a swig of vodka going by his incredibly tense frame and stiff dance moves. Well, it’s not really dancing, it’s more of a ‘I’ll just copy what my friends are doing so I don’t look awkward’ move, aka a two-step shuffle from one side to the other. You can’t help but giggle as you watch him from across the room, your friends completely giving up on trying to entice you with a selection of expensive cocktails as they leave you to stare at some random man on the other side of the club, their need for a second stack of bright coloured drinks clearly overriding the want to look out for their friend.

You’re watching him for a bit longer. Becoming completely fixated on this familiar stranger who you can’t help but sit and giggle at. Part of you wanting to cringe with him at how hellish this night has become, but at the same time, it’s kind of funny watching someone who should be so used to having a large following blush and laugh awkwardly if anyone happens to recognise him. Okay, maybe it’s slightly uncomfortable to sit and watch a swarm of girls attack him with their overdrawn lips whilst he does everything in his will to not shove them into next week, especially when his friends start laughing and taking little videos of the awkward encounters, clearly ready to embarrass him at a later date. But regardless, it’s nice to know that fame hasn’t gone completely to his head, unlike an ex-reality TV star who’s screaming ‘do you know who I am?’ at one of the bouncers who won’t let her hang out with her ‘friends’ in the VIP section.

But you’re quickly forced out of your trance when you feel somebody shoving something into your hand. Looking down at your palm and clocking the ten pound note before your eyes are lifting to the hand that it’s been given from. “Go and get us those cocktails” your friend slurs before slumping back in her seat and falling to one side slightly, her pink lipstick slathered all over her chin from where she’d tried to apply it without a mirror when a man wearing an extremely tight fitting top happened to settle down in the booth next to you, obviously hoping that he’d look her way. “Hurry up, I’m thirstyyy” your other friend whines, making you sigh and mutter something under your breath in reference to them being lazy and ruining your evening, as you slide out of the row of pink arched seats and stand up. Having to grip onto the back of the chairs when your legs go all warm and fuzzy from the one too many cocktails you’d already consumed, pulling your dress down to a more appropriate length before heading off in the direction of the bar. Trying to catch a glimpse of Mason as you swerve in and out of the sea of dancing bodies, but you just end up feeling as though you’re going to fall to the floor when the strobe lights start spinning on the ceiling before dispersing their blue and green beams around the room at the most ridiculous speed. Everybody around you swaying from side to side and elbowing you in the ribs as you try your best to dodge them, kicking yourself for wearing the most stupid pair of heels as your toes crush into each other more and more with each step, cursing when you skid in a puddle of what looks like - or at least you hope is - vodka, and you have to grab onto a stranger’s arm to steady yourself, much to their dismay until they catch a glimpse of your apologetic face and suddenly want to make out with you.

You’re breathing a sigh of relief when you finally make it to the bar, setting your bag down on the counter and ordering what you think your friends want, although you probably should have double-checked with them first considering you were too busy having a nosy at someone across the club to pay any sort of interest to their alcohol preferences. “What?” you’re shouting at the barman when he tells you the total of the drinks, hoping that you’ve misheard him but ten pounds clearly isn’t going to cover the cost of sixteen cosmopolitans with added shots of vodka. Panicking when he repeats the price and turns his back to get started on making them, your hands now frantically searching your bag in the hope that you manage to find the extra money before he starts yelling at you for ordering things without being able to pay. “Fuck” you’re hissing as you turn the contents of your bag out onto the countertop, checking the inside of your phone case and a pressed powder incase they happen to house the remaining money. Your heartbeat pounding louder in your ears the closer it gets to having to admit that you’ve actually only got a quarter of what you need. 

“I’ll get it” someone’s saying, clearly sensing the tension between you and the barman as you shrug your shoulders in response to him sticking his hand out for the money. “I’m not a charity” you snap back, your slightly tipsy state giving you a rush of confidence as you continue to search your bag in the hope that the money has magically appeared just so that you can laugh it off and shut everyone up. “I know, but it’s on me” they’re saying again, leaning forward and tapping their card on the machine before you can even consider fighting back a second time. “Thank-” you’re starting before realising who it is that’s just saved you from an incredibly awkward situation. Surely not. Surely Mason Mount hasn’t just bought you, of all people, a load of cocktails for your mates.

“It’s okay” he laughs nervously, making your heart melt because clearly he’s just as awkward around you as he is everybody else in this club. “Prices have gone up, haven’t they?” he smiles as he takes a step closer to you, propping himself up on the countertop with his elbows before asking the barman for a lemonade, with ice, just so it isn’t too fizzy. “Yeah, I don’t normally come out so I underestimated it a bit” you laugh shyly before looking off in the other direction, simultaneously cursing and thanking your friends for leading you to believe that you could get sixteen cocktails for a tenner, because without their stupidity, you wouldn’t be talking to the boy that you’ve been watching all night. “Prefer to stay at home then?” he asks as you turn back and nod your head. “Me too” he’s saying, “I’m normally in bed by now” he giggles as his gaze rises to the clock above the bar, the time reading 00.04am. The slight dark glow under his eyes letting you know that he’s normally tucked up by 9pm in his pyjamas. “What are you doing here then?” you ask. Stupid question really. He’s here for the same reason that you, and probably half of the people here, are - he’s been dragged along and forced to pretend that he’s a right party animal whilst he sips his non-alcoholic drinks and fights off every woman in sight. “My mates made me tag along, I’m kind of glad they did now though” he’s telling you, the second part of his sentence almost becoming inaudible as his voice quietens just as the volume of the music rises with the chorus of ‘My Yé Is Different’, ironic since you’ve just spotted the twenty grand watch decorating his wrist whilst you’re stood there in a passion fruit stained dress. But you’re still managing to hear it, and you can’t work out whether that’s in reference to you, or the fact that he’s been able to drink fizzy drinks when he’d normally only have water. Except you’re not stupid. 

“Bet you say that to everyone” you tease, gaining his attention again as he laughs nervously and shakes his head. “Only the special ones” he replies, which is true, but now you can’t help but wonder if his drinks have been accompanied by a few shots of something or another because those words and the sincerity of his tone aren’t a reflection of the awkward man you spotted ten minutes ago, let alone the fact that he clearly considers you to be one of these ‘special ones.’ “Yeah, yeah” you’re saying back, flicking your hair over your shoulder before taking a sip of one of the cocktails that are sat before you, still waiting to be taken back to your friends. “Got quite a few drinks for somebody that doesn’t go out much, no wonder you needed me to pay” he winks as you roll your eyes and blush at the thought of somebody having to give you a helping hand with the price. “This is my last one, I’m off in a minute cose I can’t keep up with everyone else” you’re shouting over the music, watching him throw his head back and laugh because he thought he was the only one in that position. “I’ll join you” he’s replying, thanking the barman for his drink before taking a sip through the straw. “Not the sort of thing you say to a girl after only knowing her two minutes, Mason” you’re teasing, studying his face as his eyes blow wide slightly and he shakes his head, quickly swallowing his lemonade before stuttering on his words. Unsure whether he’s panicking about you jokingly misinterpreting his comment, or if he’s uncomfortable over the fact that yet another girl knows his name, but either way, he’s laughing awkwardly when you tell him that you’re only messing. 

“I wouldn’t mind though” you say smugly, causing another nervous giggle to escape his lips. Your alcohol-induced confidence only adding to the butterflies that are already batting their wings against his rib cage, something about your slight feistiness and sarcastic sense of humour attracting him to you, even more so when he takes in how beautiful you still look despite being on the verge of your alcohol limit.

“Where are you going afterwards?” he’s asking once the lights have swivelled around in the opposite direction and the blush on his cheeks isn’t so evident. “I’ll just go to the chippy down the road and then get a taxi home” you’re telling him, looking down into the fluorescent pink concoction in your glass and feeling your stomach churn at how rough it’s going to make you feel in the morning. “Mind if I join you?” he’s asking as you look across at him in disbelief, watching as he downs the last few sips of his drink and stands the glass back on the countertop. Is this a dream or something? “Sorry, that was a bit forward...again” he panics, feeling a surge of anxiety run through his body incase he’s greeted with newspaper headlines in the morning about him unintentionally trying to latch onto girls that aren’t interested in him, even if half of the club know his name. 

“No, it’s fine, of course you can” you laugh, your cocktail glass almost slipping out of your grip thanks to the layer of sweat that is now developing across your palm. “I’ll just take these over to the girls and then I’ll be ready” you smile, looping the strap of your bag over your shoulder and grabbing as many glasses as you can, which really isn’t a wise move since you’ve partially lost all sense of coordination thanks to Mason’s ability to wipe any drop of confidence out of your body and replace it with nervous butterflies. 

“I’m off” you’re announcing once you’ve made your third trip back to the booth your friends are sitting in, their drunken reactions to your words making you giggle as you reach over them to grab your jacket. “Where are you goinggg?” one of them whines, gripping onto your leg and pouting before another one is drawn to the verge of tears at your confession. “I’m just tired” you nod, blowing them all a kiss and ensuring that they text you when you’re home as you turn around and head off towards the exit, not wanting to keep Mase waiting any longer. Praying that he’s stood just around the corner outside as he’d promised as you stagger across the dance floor and dodge a sea of flailing limbs and slurred shouts of ‘can I get your number?’. A sigh of relief forcing itself out of your nostrils when the ‘exit’ sign hanging above one of the fire doors becomes within touching distance and the bouncer in charge anticipates your departure, pushing down the grey bar across the middle of the door and letting it swing open, enabling you to step out into the night.

“There you are” you smile as you approach the back of his figure, his head kept down and a cap adding a nice accessory to his outfit, although it’s definitely worn as some form of disguise. “Hi” he’s smiling nervously when he realises that it’s you, a swarm of butterflies invading his tummy again when you link your arm through his and gently rest your head on the top of his shoulder - a move that you’re aware might push you into the same category as the other girls that have been after him all night, but your crippled feet and wobbly legs are grateful for the extra stability, even if your motivation to make that move takes you both by surprise. 

“Let me get this” you’re saying once you’ve made your way into the kebab shop, your arm dropping away from his as you gesture towards the table up against the front window. “You sure?” he’s asking, dipping his hand into his back pocket ready to pull his wallet out just incase, but you’re nodding and confirming that you’re more than capable of paying four-pound-fifty for a kebab and a couple of drinks - just as well really after the events earlier this evening. Giving him a small smile as he turns and heads off towards the table in the corner, his celebrity instincts kicking when he takes the seat right in front of the glass, conveniently covered by a sticker of the menu, and some extra protection offered from the back of his body. 

You’re setting the gold foam kebab box down on your table for two, along with two plastic forks, a bottle of water and a Fruit Shoot because you noticed him eyeing them up in the fridge when you came in. And it turned out to be one of the hardest decisions of your life trying to work out what flavour he wanted. Maybe it was the alcohol that was messing with your brain, making you think that he was more of an citrus guy than a berry one. Or maybe it was the fact that you were buying a child’s drink for a fully grown adult, a famous one too, who probably hasn’t had one for ten years, which only added to the pressure. Or maybe it was because you liked him and you didn’t want to ruin your chances by getting him the wrong flavour. But after flicking your gaze between the stack of bright coloured bottles and his body cowering away in the corner, you settled for the blackcurrant one, just because he looks like the type of person to play it safe - well, he is the type of person to play it safe, going by his Diet Coke and lemonade choices tonight. 

“This for me?” he’s asking as he picks the purple bottle up, smiling when you nod to confirm his answer. “How did you know this was my favourite flavour?” he’s questioning, a smug look appearing on your face as you shrug your shoulders and reply with ‘only the ‘special ones’ know that kind of information’. A giggle escaping his mouth at your words before he’s pulling the plastic lid off the drink and taking a sip, humming at the familiarity despite not having one since his seventh birthday party. “Still as good as they used to be” he’s saying, something about the additional happiness that’s now surging through his body after a drop of blackcurrant juice making your tummy fill with butterflies because he really is just the cutest, biggest child.

You’re both sitting in a comfortable silence as you pick at your shared kebab, trying to eat from separate ends so that you don’t cross any boundaries or run the risk trying to stab your forks into the same piece of chicken. But the fuzzy filter that the alcohol has brought to your eyes and the slight delay that it’s caused between your thoughts and your actions means that you find yourself diving into the last piece of pitta bread just at the same time that Mason does. And from his side it’s a poor judgement call. The sugar from his Fruit Shoot clearly giving him an extra boost of energy and causing his arm to extend outwards towards the polystyrene box, clouding his mum’s reminder that ‘you need be a gentleman and let girls eat whatever’s left, even if you want it’. And truth be told, he doesn’t really want it, which is why the pang of anxiety as soon as his plastic fork clashes with yours is stronger than ever. His cheeks turning a violent shade of crimson as he quickly pulls his fork back, leaving just four little holes from where the prongs had been as you panic and do the same.

“Sorry, no you have it” he says quietly, nudging the box towards you in the hope that you get the hint. “No, you eat it” you smile, pushing it back towards him. The two of you just repeating the same movement as the box moves two centimetres one way, and then two centimetres back the other. “Mason, just eat it!” you whine as he sits opposite you and shakes his head. “I said you could have it” he smiles nervously, subtly wiping the sweat off his palms and onto the material of his jeans when he realises that you’re staring straight into his eyes. “Why are you getting all nervous for? Just eat ittt” you groan, a giggle escaping his lips because there’s no way you’re backing down on this one. “Fine” he huffs, stabbing his fork back into the little holes that it made earlier before slowly moving it towards his mouth. Your eyebrows raising more and more as you watch it edge closer to his lips. And then he’s doing the unthinkable and quickly changing the direction of his fork so that it starts heading towards your mouth instead. Involuntarily parting your lips whilst you wait for what’s just happened to register, and the next thing you know, you’re swallowing the piece of pitta bread. 

“What a fuss about nothing” he hums as you roll your eyes at him. “You’re quite romantic, aren’t you?” you tease as his eyebrows furrow in the middle, waiting for you to clarify your comment. “Is that all of the alcohol that’s made you so desperate to share the last piece of food with me?” you question, another layer of blush painting itself across the tops of his cheeks. “Oh, sorry, you didn’t have anything to drink, did you? Lightweight” you smirk, making him roll his eyes this time. “I’m just being a gent, plus you’ve been drinking so you need something to sober you up, maybe it’ll stop you being so rude next time I offer to buy you a drink” he says smugly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the chair. A wave of composure washing over him now that he’s left you slightly speechless and he’s matched your sense of humour. “Next time? You’ll be lucky” you sass as he scoffs at you. “You’re the one that needs to buy me a drink to apologise for snapping at me, so there will be a next time to call it quits, thank you” he smiles, his sudden burst of confidence talking to you allowing his real personality to shine through, and you can’t help but start to get lost in it. “Was I really that rude?” you ask, secretly dying as you think back to your ‘I’m not a charity’ comment at the bar. “No, I’m just messing” he laughs, eliciting the same response from you as you erase that memory out of your brain. “You’re just confident, I like it” he’s saying, the last part of his comment getting lost when a group of people come staggering through the door, drowning out his words for the second time tonight, but you’re ninety-nine percent certain you managed to catch it. And now you’re the nervous one.

You’re quickly moving the conversation on to something else when you feel your chest starting to heat up with anxious prickles. Mason going all funny inside because it’s clear that he has the same effect on you as you do him, but he’s trying to push that to the back of his mind as he listens to you rambling on about your favourite breed of dogs, and how you had a fish finger sandwich for tea before you came out tonight, and how you actually know quite a lot about football but you’re reluctant to bring it up because you don’t want to embarrass him, although your drunken state causes you to let a few football facts slip out, all of them relating to Mase but you’re too caught up in your fuzzy alcoholic state to even recognise. But he does, obviously. Finding it sweet how you know exactly how many appearances he’s made for Chelsea, and what minute he came on in his debut against Manchester United, and what colour boots he wore against last season’s match against Newcastle. Just sitting back and letting you talk in between the occasional swig of water, hardly being able to get a word in edgeways because the alcohol is well and truly running through your veins now, making you come out with all kinds of mismatched comments and slurs. But he doesn’t mind, which takes him by surprise a bit, especially as he’s secretly scared of drunk people and he can count the amount of times he’s felt a bit tipsy on one hand, but there’s something different about you. Maybe it’s your sense of humour and how you’ve got him in stitches, or how your drunken state leads you to be more concerned about the welfare of a stray cat outside than it does anything else on the planet, or maybe it’s how deep beneath that strong outer shell you’re protecting yourself with that he knows you’ve got a heart of gold, an inside of ‘pure mush’ as his mum would say. 

“What time is it?” you slur after knocking back your last swig of water. “Nearly one o’clock” Mason’s replying, glancing at his overly-expensive watch as you sit there and wonder how he actually knows what hour of the day it is when all of the numbers have been replaced by diamonds. “Better head off” you mumble, staring blankly into the empty kebab box and trying to process what move you need to make next in order to get yourself back home in one piece. “I’ll order you a cab if you want, or I’ll walk you back, I don’t know how far away you live” he’s saying, forcing you out of your trace as you look up at his tired, bloodshot eyes. Knowing full well that as soon as you’re gone he’ll be running home to bed with a glass of water to tone down the bubbles in his tummy from his fizzy drinks, paranoid incase they give him a fizzy version of a hangover. “I live about half an hour away and I can tell you’re ready for bed so I’ll go with the cab” you smile, making him giggle nervously at the fact that his tiredness has been uncovered, although it’s not difficult to pick up on the fact that the only other time he stays up this late is on New Years Eve, and even then he normally sets an alarm for 11.57pm so that he can wake up from his nap in time.

You’re letting him help you put all of your belongings back into your handbag after you insisted on showing him your favourite lipgloss midway through your earlier conversation. Linking your arm through his and stepping out into the coldness of the night, a breeze nipping across your legs and causing you to let out a little squeal as you start pulling your dress down to try and hide your goosebumps. “Here” Mason’s saying, taking his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders. “Mase” you’re replying. Mase - he likes that, and he likes how naturally it’s left your mouth too. Trying to give it back to him but he’s adamant that you keep it. “Gives me another reason to see you in order to get it back” he winks, making you roll your eyes as you stand snuggled into his side on the edge of the pavement. 

“Did you want my number?” he’s asking, already taking his phone out of his pocket and holding it out in your direction before you even have chance to respond. “You’ve not really given me an option have you?” you laugh, making him giggle as he shuffles awkwardly from side to side, waiting for your digits to appear on the screen. “Only because I need to give your jacket back, there’s no other reason for this” you tell him, smiling as he nods his head but you both know that’s a little white lie. “There you go” you’re saying, passing his phone back to him as his eyes study the new contact in his hand. A new number written beneath Y/N. 

‘Shit’ he’s thinking. He didn’t even ask for your name before this. Awkward. 

“Pretty name” he smiles, trying to play it off cool, but you’re not drunk enough to not notice his mistake. “So pretty that you didn’t even know that’s what I was called until now” you reply, making him giggle and let out an awkward ‘oops’. “I’ll let you off this once” you’re saying as you look up at him stood beneath the lamppost that’s towering above the two of you. A golden glow adding a filter to his face and making him look even more gorgeous than he did when he was sipping his lemonade in the club and shoving lettuce and chicken into his mouth. And you’re desperate to just kiss him, especially since he’s got a bit of dried Fruit Shoot in the corner of his mouth and you know his lips will taste all sweet like they do in the movies. But considering he’s only just learnt your name you don’t think it’s the right time, and there’s also a bunch of Tottenham fans making their way up the street, not wanting to have to make him endure any teasing, especially when he’s already stayed up late in a part of town he wouldn’t usually be seen dead in to spend time with you. 

“Thanks for tonight” you whisper as you briefly rest your head on his shoulder, pulling it away when the taxi he’s ordered for you appears at the side of the curb. “My pleasure, thank you” he’s saying back, removing his protective hand from the small of your back and stepping forward to open the back door of the car for you. “Told you that you were a gent” you tease as he mumbles ‘shut up’ and pretends to shove you into the back seat with a giggle. “See you soon for that jacket, yeah?” he winks as you reply with ‘yeah yeah, whatever’, making him let out a little chuckle as he closes the door on you. Giving you an awkward little wave as you head off down the street, standing and waiting for your car to turn the corner before heading home himself. Leaving just a message of ‘thank you again, can’t wait to get my jacket back cose it’s freezing without it ;) x’ that’s just appeared on your screen connecting the two of you. And even if you have been slightly tipsy tonight and now can’t remember half of the things you spoke about, there genuinely doesn’t seem like a better person to sit in a kebab shop with in the early hours of the morning after stumbling across him by pure chance a club that neither of you particularly wanted to spend the night at. Thanking your lucky stars for allowing your paths to cross because you already know this is the start of something special. Very special.

[canirove]

The Lord in Blue | Chapter 10

Author’s note: Things get a little bit heated on this chapter 👀 But not too much, so I think it’s safe for everyone who is allowed to be on this website to read it 😁 As always, thank you for reading and for your support! 💜

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Masterlist

A few days later there is a fair happening in the town nearby, and I don't know who is more excited about going, Summer or her uncles.

On our way there they can't stop talking about the different games they are going to be playing, and how they are going to beat each other. Their sister and I just listen and roll our eyes.

"You should get one of those, Mason" his brother says, teasing him. "Though you may not need it anymore" he says while looking at me. Lord Mount just ignores him, but I can see he's blushing. And so am I.

When we arrive, the fair is crowded with people. Even though it already is fall and a bit chilly, many families are spending their day here.

Besides the stands with all the games the Mount brothers are so eager to play, there are others selling food, drinks, clothes, jewels... Music is being played somewhere too, and a little play will be happening later in the day. While we walk among all of them, we pass through an old woman who sells love potions (or that's what she says).

After checking all the stands that offer games and having lunch, we stop at one where you have to throw three coins inside a frog's mouth. If you are able to do it in five attempts, you get a prize, but the Mounts are betting to see who can do it in just three.

"It's time to choose your prizes, my lords" says the man who owns the stand.

Lord Mount's brother goes first. He barely manages to do it at the fifth attempt, his little brother constantly making fun of him. Now it's his turn, and the first two coins go easily in. Before throwing the third one, he turns to me.

"If this one goes in, you owe a kiss" he says, not allowing me to reply. He's already in place, his tongue sticking out like it always does when he is focused. "A child doesn't do the things he does with his tongue". Dear brain, now it's not the time for those thoughts.

The coin goes in perfectly without touching the frog, and he starts doing a stupid dance in front of his brother to celebrate.

"Pick whatever you want, my lady" Lord Mount tells me. I pick a stuffed animal, a lion. Summer also gets to choose something, a wooden horse. And from there, we move to the place where the play is taking place.

"The say it's about that old king and all his wives, including the one you like so much" Lord Mount says as he stands next to me, his hand resting on my low back. I try to focus on what is happening in front of me and on the play, but my thoughts keep going to his hand, now moving to my waist and pulling me closer to him.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Allow me to accompany you" Lord Mount says.

It's almost night when we make it back to the house. Lord and Lady Mount choose to leave for bed, too tired and full of food, and Summer and her parents do the same, leaving me alone with Lord Mount and his brother. After a while, I start yawning.

"I think I'm going to bed too" I say.

"Good night, Mason. My lady" his brother says from the big chair where he is sitting, a smirk on his face as he sips from his cup.

"I had hoped you had" I dare to say, teasing him.

We don't share a word all the way to my room. Once we get to my door, Lord Mount finally speaks.

"I haven't forgotten that you owe me a kiss" he says with a smile way to similar to the one his brother gave us a moment ago.

"You wound me, my  lady" he dramatically says, putting a hand to his heart as he keeps getting closer to me. I just shrug. "I guess I'll have to kiss you again to prove you I am indeed a good kisser." He is too close now, his hands on my waist. "May I?" he asks.

I nod, my heart beating like crazy. He moves one of his hands to my face, his fingers on my chin, then on my lips, my whole body tensing. But then he kisses me and it's like I'm melting. This is a soft and gentle kiss, different to the one in the palace's garden.

"So?" he says, our mouths still too close.

"And now?" he says, catching his breath.

"I think you'll have to try again, my lord. I'm not too convinced" I say in a whisper.

This time his kiss is different. Rougher, but still gentle. And it goes for longer.

"That was much better" I say with a smile. He smiles too, his dimple showing. I can't help myself any longer, and lift my hand to touch it before he starts kissing me again. But this time he also moves to my neck, to my collarbone, his hands being all over my body.

"Mason..." I say to his ear. He grunts, pulling me closer. "Someone may see us" I manage to say.

"Then let's go inside."

"We can't... We can't do that" I say, making him laugh as he grabs my hand.

"We don't have to do what you are thinking. There are other... things".

"Mason!" I say while hitting him in the arm. We look at each other and start laughing, but we don't stop kissing. We move towards my bed, and I lay down as he keeps undressing. I try to focus on his face, but my eyes can't help to look at his perfect body.

We are inside my room now. He is behind me, kissing my shoulder, his hands undoing my dress. I feel it fall to the floor, his hands moving to my waist, to my chest. Every bit of skin where he has touched me feels like is burning.

Then he turns me to face him. His eyes look almost black when he looks at me, and he is kissing me again, this time with a passion and a force he hadn't shown before. My hands move to his hair, grabbing it, trying to have my body as close to his as I can. I'm so focused on it that I don't notice one of his hands on my butt until he gives it a little pinch.

Our hands are all over each other, our kisses more desperate. It's as if we need each other to breathe. Then he starts kissing my chest, my stomach. My hands are again tangled in his hair as he keeps going down, making me feel something that I've never felt before when he reaches the spot he was looking for. "A child doesn't do the things he does with his tongue".

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"You should go back to your room" I say while kissing him in the nose.

"I like it here" he says with a smile while hugging me tighter.

"The sun is already rising, the servants will be out any minute now. What if they see you leaving my room and tell your parents?"

"I don't think they will complain" he says.

They robably won't, that's true. I've noticed the way they look at us when we are together. They are always smiling, never worried or looking at us with disagreement. I don't know if I could say the same about my mother.

"Mason, please" I beg.

"All right then" he reluctantly says. Once he is dressed, he comes back to the bed to give me a kiss. "You better get used to this, my lady. I've just started."

[terrifyingstories3]

some show!rose quotes that i feel capture her really well

mason: “maybe lissa does want to be queen.” rose, intensely stubborn and petulant: “well i DON’T.” (want that future for her, prescribe to this reality, etc). it just speaks to rose’s childish nature and stubbornness—as well as her willingness to overstep where lissa is concerned when she thinks it’s in her best interest—so well, even if i don’t vibe with lissa being named successor SL. she then slumps in a chair and says that EVERYTHING sucks, INCLUDING that chair, which is just a+ rose hathaway dramatics

dimitri: “you have a way of being extraordinary and infuriating at the same time.” “fair.” she’s self aware

dimitri: “if you can’t keep it together in practice, how can you possibly hope to survive a real world attack?”

“i will, dimitri, because that’s what i do. i survive. i survive car crashes and loss and an absentee mother and a best friend i’m not allowed to see and know it all guardians that show up out of nowhere to ruin my life. i will survive whatever shit this world keeps trying to throw at me because that’s what i do. because i’m strong. and i will survive whatever this tribunal tries to throw at me because there is no other option.”

oh my girl. my daughter. my very best girl. she’s just everything. i feel so very hard for her. she feels everything so powerfully and so deeply and she believes in herself so much because she has to. because no one else does. because there’s no other option. i don’t believe in angels. i believe in what i can do for myself. one of my favorite things about book rose is how clearly and unabashedly flawed she is. she’s impulsive and proud and judgmental and childish and reckless and she’s ruled by feeling and emotion and it makes watching her grow up just.. the most beautiful journey in the whole world. i would die for her.

“there’s more than one way of keeping her safe and i do that.” YES. a thousand times yes. because rose is so much more than just lissa’s guardian! she protects so much more than just her body! rose is always looking out for lissa mind, body, and soul. and she’s just BEGGING for someone to see that for someone to recognize that because she wouldn’t trade her best friend for anything but god it’s hard. for such a very long time, it’s rose alone who takes care of lissa emotionally and is left to try and help her through her depression and self harm with no outside support or guidance. and the way! sisi’s voice breaks here. because she’s given lissa everything, and the gravity of what she is responsible for is terrifying. it’s so hard and so heavy but she does it and she fights so hard every day to be able to do it for the rest of her life.

“you know what your problem is? you think that just because something has been one way for a long time it has to stay that way but if this is the way the world is, then maybe it’s the world that needs to change” SEXY

“i want to do my sworn duty. i want honor. i want to protect my best friend from danger. and i want a life to call my own. my mother thinks guardians can’t have that. and i’m starting to wonder if that’s true.” honey honey honey honey love of mineeeeee

“i’ve been protecting myself my whole life, not that you’d (her mother) know” :(

“your clothes were so clean, i was afraid your parents wouldn’t let you play with me” :(

“guardians are raised to be tough. it’s the only way to survive, especially as a woman. and i am tough. but i have seen what battle can do to people. lissa keeps my heart in the right place. she always has a kind word or a compassionate ear for anyone who needs it. she’s everything good and everything right. and she’s…. she’s my family.”

[softcallofdutyimagines]

The crew with their soulmate headcannons

Ok, to make it up to y'all for the angst yesterday, here's a response to the death by broken heart post 😌

This one goes out to @smokeywhalee since I've had her crying for the past like three posts 💀💀😂 I also snuck in a little something to the Weaver one for @direwolfspostsrandomshit and I specifically 😌💅🏻

No warnings, just a very long post and lots of fluff lol

Adler

You two met when he was still young, before he even joined the CIA

Back when he was a goofy, carefree kid who didn't know better

You've been with him through so much by now, that he knows he can always count on you when something's bothering him

There's no one he trusts more in the whole world

Adler knew you were the one around the time he got his scars

He thought for sure you'd leave him, thinking he looked like some kind of monster with half his face bandaged and bloodied like it is

But when he came home from the hospital, you were so overjoyed to see him again, it's like the bandages weren't even there

You kissed his face and helped him clean and dress the stitches and cuts everyday until they healed

With you there to give him all that affection, he's never let his scars make him feel any less then handsome

Of course, it doesn't hurt that you remind him often

Even now, he never tires of you kissing his scars

Hudson

You and Hudson met in college, back when he was a shy, nerdy outcast

It's not like you were exactly popular, but you at least had some social circles to run in

He never thought someone like you would even look twice at someone like him, but...

He's been wrong before

One day you decided to give him a chance, maybe just see what his story is, and you've never looked back since

Hudson's life path calls for the utmost secrecy for nearly everything, and you've lost contact with a handful of people because of it

But you've never complained

If anything, you consider it their loss for losing you

That's how Hudson knew you were the one

You have an undefeatable, never give up attitude and can find the silver lining in just about everything you put your mind to

And of course... You indulge him in his love of head rubs

It's you and his best kept secret of all

Lazar

You've known each other since you were just kids

For him, it was puppy love at first sight, and he was crushing hard before he knew it

But... He was always insecure about his weight, being a bit chunky as a kid and all

He was afraid of rejection because of it

A shame really, since you would've loved him no matter what

But as fate would have it, you stayed friends all the way up until highschool where sports had him shedding weight like crazy

All the fluctuation has left him with stretch marks, some loose skin, and a belly pouch, but luckily growing up gave him enough confidence to make up for it

He asked you to the senior dance your last year of highschool, and later that night you shared your first kiss behind the bleachers outside

You were his first kiss ever

Lazar always knew you were the one

You've been his closest friend and biggest supporter since you were kids on a playground

He just wanted to make himself feel worthy of you first

No one else makes him feel as comfortable in his skin as you do, and only you are allowed the special honor of touching his body

A gift you exercise frequently when you cuddle him at night

Mason

Alex didn't meet you until after Vietnam and the whole... brainwashing business

After trying and trying for years only to end up with an ever growing list of failed relationships, he just assumed he was too damaged to love

Besides, he's getting a bit older now... Maybe he's just not meant to find someone

Or so he thinks

He meets you randomly in public, on an ordinary day in an ordinary place

You two happen to hit a conversation and it just keeps going and going...

Until finally you exchange numbers and begin seeing each other more frequently

And that's when Alex knows you're the one, he can just... feel it deep down

But it isn't until one, vulnerable night, when he tells you about his past and the war and.... Well, everything, that he knows for sure

With so much fear being pushed about the Russian threat and all that, he thought for sure the knowledge that he's been a brainwashed sleeper agent once would scare you away

It was a shock for sure, but... You aren't afraid of him, in fact, you feel sympathetic for his plight of anything

Alex doesn't need your sympathy, mind, but he is thankful for the empathy

That's all he wants, really

That, and someone who'll hold him through the nightmares at night

Looks like he lucked out there too :)

Park

She met you as a fellow agent through MI6

Things were purely professional for a looooong time

But she must admit though, you're quite charismatic, cunning, and frankly?

Adorable

Helen's not quite sure when the joking, friendly flirting turned serious but...

She's glad for it

You ask her out on a date first and things go well

More then well

She doesn't kiss and tell, but let's just say... She knows you're the one

You always have her back on the field and off

You're her closest friend and confident

She's breaking the rules by cluing you in on the goings on with the hunt for perseus and all, but there's no one here she trusts more for feedback and brainstorming

But it's probably a good thing you're not in the safehouse, considering you almost killed someone after the skyhook debacle

She rolls her eyes at your fussing, but you swear to never let her go again

And you know what? Park may not show it, but she loves how much you care for her

Perseus

He met you back in the ussr, when he still looked like his picture

You two grew close in your service to the government, and you were one of the first people he trusted to try and recruit for his operation

When you didn't even hesitate to say yes, that's when he knew you were the one

You've already proven yourself and impressed him with your wit and integrity in your service to the ussr

In fact, few have ever stood out to him in such a way as you have

All he needed to know was if you trusted him and truly believed in a better future

Many are jelous to see you running around with the exceptionally handsome man, but perseus was never one to get hung up on looks

However, he's glad you enjoy his appearance as much as you do his mind

Together, you raise hell for the capitalists, bringing a true biting edge to the cold war threat

In return for your loyalty, he does all he can to keep you a secret, both as his lover and his accomplice

If anything happened to you like what happened to Bell...

He would take the fight to your captors himself

And they wouldn't stand a chance...

Weaver

He met you through working in Requiem

You're one of the strike team operators, but you spend a fair amount of time talking with the consultants and himself back at base

Weaver finds you a little intimidating, but in a good kind of way

Sort of how he use to be back in the day

When he realizes he may or may not have a little thing for you, he suddenly becomes very shy

He's afraid to try and make a move on you because surely rejection would be the only outcome?

After all, he's way too far past his prime by now, missing an eye and slowly letting himself fall out of shape

It's a mess

So why haven't you just moved on from him yet...?

Doctor Grey seems strangely invested in this little one sided romance, so with a bit of help, he manages to ask you out for coffee

The last thing he expected was for you to say yes

It's not until the day that you almost don't make it back to base that he realizes how very much you mean to him

Weaver stays with you as frequently as he can while you recover and can often be found cuddling you in your med bay bed (bc why the hell not?) or at home

He has to pull back a little on visiting you in the med bay however

He's starting to get teased for how much he loves all the head pets, jaw scratches, and tummy rubs you give him while you're bored and resting

Carver has now begun addressing him as "Fido" with no end in sight

Woods

He meets you out at the marine base he spends all his time at

It was one of the many occasions that he was doing target practice at the range, and he today he's caught you watching him

At first he honestly didn't think much of it, but of course he took the opportunity to show off a little

He succeeded in managing to lure you over with his skills, where you came to stroke his ego a bit

For that, he offers to show you some pointers and before either of you know it, target practice together becomes a regular occurance

From there, anything more social is up to you to initiate

He's a bit taken aback when you invite him out to do something off base sometime, but... He accepts

Once out of his element, he's like a whole other person

You're surprised to find that he's a lot more shy and little more warm towards you

You find it adorable

That starts the slippery path to how he knows you're the one

You're the only person he truly feels like he can be himself with

Everyone else expects the hardened sargent, and while that is still him...

He never feels like he has an opportunity to share his softer side

You can never complain about being cold or lonely with him around

Frank loves nothing more then cuddling with you whenever and wherever he can

Not only is it just, well, nice, to have the human contact, but it makes him feel like he gets to protect you

And nothing makes him happier then to see you safe :)

[snesdudes]

Gasp prompts for Mason and Alice?? 💕

General #1: "I love you." "Tell me that when you're sober." pretty please? 💕

Ooooohhhh!!! Thank you for sending this 😍😍 as always it got out of hand and it's long af.

From this list of prompts.

LET'S TRADE SECRETS

Pairing: Mason x f!detective (Alice Santos)

Prompt: "I love you." "Tell me that when you're sober."

Warnings: Sexual innuendos, protective!Mason strikes again, self-esteem issues, drinking. Bobby makes an appearance 😒

Words: ~2.5k

Read on ao3

In any other situation, the loud music and the smell of alcohol would have been too much to bear for Mason. He would have left the crowded living room after being there for five minutes. But he had been at Tina's apartment, where her birthday party was taking place, for more than two hours now, and he wasn't in any hurry to leave. Not alone, at least.

"Dancing has certainly…" Nate cleared his throat a pink hue tainting his cheeks, "changed with the passing of time."

Mason smirked at him while he followed his gaze towards the detective - as if he hadn't been watching her the whole night - just when the redhead turned her back on them while she danced with Tina, shaking her hips while gradually dropping low to the rhythm of the music.

"I really like this dance." Mason answered, noticing how Nate had decided it was better to look inside his glass. He took a swig of his beer with a chuckle, gluing his gaze to the rear of the woman. His woman, he thought, a smile grazing his lips. He could easily watch her all night long. She didn't have time to change after her shift ended, so she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt from a band he had heard a couple of times in her apartment, with a pair of comfortable sneakers. The jeans she was wearing were his favorite ones (could they be any tighter?) and he suspected she had already discovered that.

"Well, our little Allie is certainly having fun." Felix commented, before his golden eyes glanced at Mason. "Though maybe you're having even more fun watching her shake her -"

"Oh, come on." Nate shook his head and Mason barked a laugh, but before he could retort a couple of arms surrounded his neck.

"What's so funny?" Alice asked, her body subtly pressing against his, softly enough to make him shudder slightly. Automatically, his hand found its place on her lower back, the other one cradling a beer.

"Nate's still having problems with how much I enjoy watching you." He answered, grey eyes finding hers, noticing her blown pupils.

She snorted a laugh. "Nate has problems with how much you enjoy ogling my butt." She smirked as she stood on her tiptoes to reach his lips, but he moved back slightly to look at her face, chuckling with amusement at her squeal when he softly pinched her ass. She slapped his shoulder and opened her mouth to whine, but he captured her lips with his own before she had the chance. The arms around his neck tightened their embrace as she sighed into the kiss, tongues finding each other.

Nate grumbled something before turning away and Felix laughed when Tina approached screaming: "Get it, girl!"

Alice chuckled as well and broke the kiss with a smile, throwing her head back for a moment while Mason moved his lips to her cheek, then her ear. The room was spinning ever so slightly, her body felt on fire and her throat was dry. "Wanna go back to your place, spitfire?" His voice was hoarse and goosebumps appeared on her skin where his breath touched her.

"A couple more songs." She replied, quickly pecking his lips, before spotting Nate very carefully looking away from them. "Not a fan of making out at parties, Nate?"

She giggled when his eyes widened a little before he gave her a soft smile. "Oh, it's just… I just think some things are meant to be done in private?"

"We're just kissing, is not as if I'm - I'm gonna stop talking now."

Mason squeezed her waist. "Oh, please, finish the thought."

She blushed harder - her cheeks were already flushed due to the alcohol and the dancing, and Mason licked his lips as he observed her, her gaze following the movement. "Later." She breathed, and in that moment Tina came to them with another glass of tequila sunrise. "Thank you!" She chanted, taking the glass and disentangling herself from Mason with a wink, her other hand taking Tina's, and the both of them walked away dancing. He shook his head with amusement as he heard them laugh together.

"I think she's had enough to drink." Adam commented, making Mason raise an eyebrow towards the leader.

"She's a grown woman. And I'm gonna take her to her place when she's ready, don't worry so much."

"Yeah, she deserves to let loose once in a - uuuhh, is that guy the reporter?" Felix interrupted himself, making Mason snap his gaze back to the center of the living room where people were dancing. He was right, the reporter - her ex boyfriend - was talking to Alice, and judging by the look on her face, not even being drunk she was happy to see him. Mason shifted uncomfortably, not quite liking the jealousy the simple sight of her ex could awake in him. He focused to hear their conversation.

"Come on, angel." Bobby smiled at her, almost too sweetly. "One dance." He inched closer and whispered. "For old times' sake."

"Ugh." She rolled her eyes, taking a step back from Bobby. "Believe me when I say there's nothing good to remember about 'the old times'." She chugged her drink, and when she lowered the glass, Bobby was towering over her.

"Oh, come on. You know that's not true. Remember our first Valentine?" He was practically purring, and looking at him through the haze of the tequila, she couldn't believe she fell for his charms so many years ago. "You prepared that romantic dinner in your dorm and then you…" he reached out to curl a strand of her hair around his finger. "I'll always remember how you looked with -"

She slapped his hand away and his grin widened. "Shut up, Bobby. I'm serious."

"You heard her."

Both of them turned just as Mason reached them, his arm coming to rest around her shoulders in a way that just felt natural. She grinned at him before taking another sip, her free arm sneaking around his hips, hand diving into the back pocket of his jeans. Bobby looked amused.

"Ooh, I didn't know you -"

"She does." Mason retorted, not letting the reporter speak. "So, anything else you wanna say, old news?"

Alice snorted, loudly, and covered her mouth to muffle her laughter. That nickname was perfect. Bobby narrowed his eyes, but motioned at her with his chin.

"Be careful with this one. I always had to babysit her when she drank."

And with that, he turned around and left, Tina's "who the hell invited you?" following after his departure. Mason turned to surround Alice with his other arm and noticed her expression had fallen. He took the empty glass from her hand and left it on a shelf nearby before his hand found her hip, then used a finger to raise her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"What's this for?" He asked, thumb tracing her pouting lower lip.

"You feel like you're babysitting me?"

He scoffed. "Always."

The usual sassy remark he was expecting was lost in a frown. "Oh."

Mason rolled his eyes. "So, drunk Alice doesn't get sarcasm, huh? Noted." She blinked up at him before a small smile appeared on her lips. "That guy's a dick. Don't let anything he says get to you, sweetheart."

Her arms surrounded his neck almost lazily. "Hmm. You'll have to distract me."

His embrace tightened. "Just say the word."

She stood on her tiptoes and he lowered his head so she could reach his ear to purr: "Dance with me."

He huffed. "No."

"Please." She breathed against the skin of his neck before placing a small kiss on his pulse point, which jumped.

"I don't dance."

"Pretty please." A kiss on his jaw, her breath on his lips. Her hips were starting to sway and her breasts were pressed against his chest. He was losing this battle. The song changed and a heavy, sultry beat surrounded them.

If he was going to do it, he would do it his way.

His hands tightened on her hips and he twisted her around, her back now against his chest. She laughed with delight as they started moving together, his head dropping to place a feathery kiss behind her ear.

Hips pressed against her backside, they swayed, his thumbs hooking on the belt loops of the front of her jeans, one of her hands on his forearm, the other raised to bury her fingers in his hair. Her eyes were closed, and the music, his heat, the touch of his lips, everything was so delicious it made a smile bloom on her lips.

"You never talk much about what happened between you two." Mason murmured against her skin. Her smile fell.

"You mean Bobby?"

"Yeah."

She sighed and turned on his arms, stumbling slightly, but he supported her. "Ugh… I think I'm ready to go home now."

He just nodded. She left to say her goodbyes to Tina and a few guests and he grabbed her jacket from the mountain of coats on the bedroom.

He found her talking with the Unit, and slipped the jacket over her shoulders. Alice looked up at him with a grateful smile, her heart somersaulting inside her chest at the gesture.

"Are you taking her home?" Nate asked.

"Yup."

"Alright." The tall vampire gave a one-armed hug to the detective, then Felix gave her a bear hug that got them swaying from side to side.

"I almost wanna go with you just to see Mason driving your car." Felix flashed a grin and Mason sneered. Alice laughed and swayed when Felix released her, Mason stabilizing her once again. Adam frowned.

"Make her drink some water."

Mason nodded before throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Ready?"

                                       ☾  一一一一一一一一一   ☽  

Alice closed her eyes as soon as Mason closed the car door, head resting against the seat as he started the engine. He let the car warm up for a few minutes.

"You're not gonna tell me?"

She rubbed her eyes, smearing her eyeshadow in the process, and groaned when she saw the black makeup on her knuckles. "What do you want to know?"

Mason shrugged. "Why did you break up?"

She hummed. "I'll tell you but you have to tell me something in exchange."

"Oh, so we're negotiating now?"

She smirked mischievously. "Why not? Let's trade secrets."

He thought about it for a moment. "Sure. You probably won't remember tomorrow anyway."

She gasped. "I will!"

"You won't." He teased. "You go first."

"We dated for two years." She sighed, the car screeching when Mason started driving to her apartment. "He was quite good at making me feel like shit about myself. And at the same time, making me feel lucky at being with someone like him, who I thought was better than me. More attractive, smarter, more charming. He could have anyone and chose me, that made me feel special." She chuckled sadly. "He reminded me that often; that he could have anyone. I was always scared that he was going to leave me. I was always anxious, clingy. I thought I loved him."

The way his knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel were the only sign that he was listening to her.

"He plagiarized one of my final assignments in college. His presentation was before mine, and I just couldn't believe what he had done to me. Part of me wanted to give up. But I had worked damn hard so I gathered proof about it and presented my assignment without changing anything. He had to redo it and he was furious… He dumped me on the spot. In the middle of the hall after I demonstrated his plagiarism before the teachers and the classmates." Her tone was monotonous, eyes lost somewhere on the road. "After what he had done to me, I still felt devastated. I thought he had an explanation." A pause. "I thought he loved me." Her voice turned small, and she cleared her throat. "Your turn."

When he didn't speak, Alice looked at him to see him clench his jaw. "That guy's a piece of trash, you know that, right?" His voice sounded strained with anger.

"I do now." She smiled softly. "Thank God he did something shitty enough that I couldn't let him walk over me. But… it's your turn."

Mason scoffed, letting the new information about the detective aside to think about it later. He parked the car and helped her out, climbing the stairs to her apartment in silence.

Once inside, as she took off her jacket and shoes, he finally spoke.

"I had never had sex with the same person more than once before you."

That made her blink rapidly, her mind foggy from the alcohol as she tried to focus on his carefully blank expression. Ugh, she saw two Masons. She needed to lay down.

"Why?"

A shrug. "I just didn't want to."

Okay, heart, calm the fuck down, he can hear you, she thought to herself as she walked to the bedroom, Mason on her heels.

"But you did with me?"

She sat down on the bed and he took off her shirt. "Yeah." She laid down and he unbuttoned her jeans before peeling them off.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

In her underwear, she sneaked under the covers and Mason left the room. She was starting to drift off when he came back with two glasses of water. He left one on her nightstand. "Drink." He commanded, a hand sliding under her head to help her drink the other one. She obeyed with a hum. "Got any other secrets before I go?"

Her eyes were closed but her fingers had wrapped around his wrist to bring him into bed with her. He sat down and she rested her head on his lap.

"I love you."

It was nothing but a sigh, falling from her lips so casually, so sincerely, he felt his throat dry instantly. His heart hammered for a moment before it calmed down. She's drunk, she doesn't even know what she's saying.

"Tell me that when you're sober."

Did he want to hear that again? God, he felt like his chest was too tight suddenly, his fingertips dancing an inch from her hair, not daring to touch her. Love was such a foreign word between them. His chest was heaving, the word may be foreign, but what about the feeling? Had it been love all this time?

"Sober me doesn't want you to know." She almost giggled. "She's scared you'll tell her you don't feel the same."

Now his fingers found her hair and he stroked it softly, Alice melting instantly at his touch, snuggling beside his legs. She was drifting off with a smile, the room spinning, hoping equally to remember and forget this conversation.

She didn't know for sure if the next words were said in the quiet room or if she was already dreaming.

"She has nothing to fear."

[infernwetrust]

f**k, i luv my friends [Fem Reader x Michael Langdon x Jim Mason x AHS 1984]

BRIEF INTRO: This takes place in alternate universe, combining Cody’s characters Michael, Jim, Duncan (supporting), and Xavier. The 1984 gang is included as well. The Michael for this series is a cross between Sojourn and F&R.

Summary: You and your best friends gather around the beach for some fun. The beginning of this series.

Warnings: A WHOLE LOTTA CUTE SHIT.

WC: 3.0k

A/N: Holy fucking shit I’m so excited to share this massive series I’m working on with you guys. I don’t know what to call it yet so for now under my master list it’ll be called “THE BESTFRIENDS UNIVERSE”. This was inspired by the artist renforshort and her song “f**k, i luv my friends”. There will be PLENTY of smut, angst, fluff, and MORE across this series. I am so unbelievably excited. If you would like to be in my tag list for this series please let me know! My ask box is open, so if you have any ideas or requests for this series, please, please, please ASK ME. There is no plot to this, therefore there are no limitations. Thank you so much for reading! -Juno

You smiled as you took a sip of the drink your boyfriend, Michael had made you. As you sat in the sand between his legs, him laid out on his beach towel, arms behind his head, eyes closed as he breathed in the ocean air. Your smile grew even wider as you scanned the rest of the beach, spotting the rest of your friend group. There was Xavier and his girlfriend Montana, who stood barely in the water, arms wrapped around each other as they kissed slowly under the sunset. Then there was Jim and his girlfriend Brooke who lay on their surfboards lazily, letting the waves carry them away, being careful not to get too far away. And then Chet and Ray, each with a bottle of Jack in their hand, taking sips as they took selfies and laugh at what you were sure were their usual stupid jokes.

You curled your toes as you took another sip, loving the feeling of the sand between them. How did you get this lucky to have this many people in your life that loved you and you loved them too? What had started as a small friendship with Montana, turned into something so huge. She introduced you to her boyfriend, Xavier, who then introduced you to the rest of their group, including Brooke's boyfriend, Jim. All of you met in freshman year  of college and have been friends since. Michael was the last to enter the picture, but how everything changed when he did.

While you had finally found a stable friend group that you quickly grew to love, you were longing for something a little bit more. And that's when Michael came in and swept you away. He had come in as a transfer student from another college, sophomore year, and what a coincidence that you had him in all of classes first semester. He was a face you saw regularly around campus and you couldn't help but be drawn to his quiet nature. Slowly you began talking to him and you noticed how timid and reserved he was. He didn't really go out of his way to speak to anyone, besides when you would speak to him. He would give half smiles, and either one word or half sentences.

Soon you began walking with him to all your classes, the two of you never leaving each other's side. You'd help him with his homework for a class he didn't understand all too well and in return he would do the same. Lunch and dinner together became a regular thing. Your friends noticed your interest, often glancing at the two of you from another table afar, giving smiles and making stupid faces. When it came down to exams, you two met up every night 2 weeks prior, in the library, studying diligently, learning from each other's notes. He opened up to you rather quickly after that and when you were sure that he was comfortable enough you introduced him to everyone else, who immediately took a liking to the blonde boy with the soft, but vibrant blue eyes.

It was the small and subtle acts between the both of you, that drew you closer together. When you could sense that Michael was getting overwhelmed in a social setting, your hand found it's way into his, giving him a reassuring smile before the conversation continued. Or how when he spoke to you, you tuned everyone else out in the room to let him know that it was about him and no one else. It was you rubbing his back when he got frustrated, throwing his textbooks to the floor because he simply did not understand or when he would get into a spat with his older brother, Duncan over the phone.

It was him, picking up your favorite snack and coffee from the grand cafe before your 8AM. It was him, walking you back to your residence hall in the middle of the night to ensure that you made it safely. It was the way his blonde hair moved with the wind, the endless laughter, the stressful nights. Before you knew it, you had fallen in love with Michael. 9 months of an unbreakable bond.

You still remember the first time he kissed you. Both of you stood drunkenly in the middle of a frat party, not really wanting to be surrounded by the crowd of sweaty bodies and other screaming young adults. You screamed in Montana's ear over the loud music that you and Michael were going to step outside for some fresh air. She drunkenly gave you a thumbs up, not be able to remove her lips from Xavier's who roughly grabbed at her ass, pulling her closer into him. You finally felt like you could breathe once the cool air hit your skin.

As you stared out into the distance, you couldn't help but feel like a set of eyes were burning into your skin. When you turned your head, you met Michael's gaze and before you could even ask him what was wrong his lips were on yours. He quickly pulled back, shocked by what he did and he moved his lips to say sorry, but you grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him back towards you. A fire danced inside the both of you as he wrapped his arms around you, you doing the same. You could feel yourself melting away at his touch, his soft lips against yours, the occasional brushing of noses. For the first time, this was a kiss that felt right. You felt safe in his hands and knew you wanted to be his.

"Y/N!" Xavier called out to you, immediately snapping you out of your thoughts. The air had gotten a little bit cooler, which you welcomed. You looked over in his direction. He motioned the action taking a picture with a camera, and bringing his fingers to his lips like he was smoking. This signaled to you that he wanted you to come over with your Polaroid camera and that he going to light another joint. You enthusiastically gave him a double thumbs up, letting him know that you'd be over there soon.

You turned around to look behind you, down at Michael who looked so peaceful as he became one with the beach. His mouth hung open slightly and you knew that he was falling asleep, which caused you to giggle, moving a strand of his hair behind his ear.

"Hey..." you said softly, running your hands down his chest, watching as his eyes quickly fluttered open in a daze. He groaned sleepily, a smile forming on his face when he looked into your eyes. He grabbed onto your hands, holding them in place and running his thumbs along them. "Don't tell me that you're falling asleep already. Our night hasn't even really begun."

"I was resting my eyes." he said, chuckling a little bit at his obvious lie.

"You can do that for the rest of the night when we get back. Xavier wants to take pictures."

"Why is he so obsessed with taking pictures?" Michael questioned, propping himself up on his elbows as you rose to your feet, dusting the excess sand off you. He couldn't help but bite his lip as your bikini top fit you perfectly, combined with the booty shorts you wore that was snug to your figure. He ran his hand through his messy hair, sighing.

"We're making memories Michael." you answered. "I don't want to hear anything when you literally have all the Polaroid pictures I took of us and everyone else scattered around your dorm room and on your car dashboard. You love taking pictures as much as he does. You're just feeling lazy."

"You enjoy reading me to filth, don't you?"

"Only sometimes." You walked over to your belongings, grabbing your camera and your tripod. Michael soon got up, also dusting the sand off of himself, shaking his hair in the process before following you down to where everyone else was.

"We were hoping you two would join us soon." Montana said, smiling at you and Michael. She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug that you gladly returned.

"Well don't you look more alive than ever, Mike." Xavier said to his friend. "Enjoy your nap? I mean we've been here for like what, an hour?"

"Fuck you, Xavier." Michael said, shoving him playfully in his shoulder earning a smirk from him. "It could have been a longer nap. It should have been."

"You don't want to miss out on this do you?" Xavier questioned, waving the joint in front of Michael's face. "It's your favorite strain, wedding cake."

"I suppose you have a valid claim." Michael answered, reaching for the joint, but couldn't grab it because someone else did.

"Don't mind if I do." Jim said, grabbing the joint out of Xavier's hand, immediately putting it between his lips and lightning it.

"Eager are we?" you asked Jim as you set the camera up, earning a smile from him as he stuck his tongue out at you, walking back over to Brooke who now stood only a few feet away, conversing with Chet and Ray.

"That's why I rolled two." Xavier said, taking another one from behind his ear and handing it to Michael. "Too many of us for just one, right?"

"More like Jim will inhale half of it before passing it to anyone else." Montana chimed in, rolling her eyes as she rested her elbow on Michael's shoulder, letting the smell of the freshly lit joint consume her.

"That sounds more like it." Michael said as he exhaled, passing it to Xavier.

"I strive to be a stoner like him though." she continued. "Detached from reality for most of the day, but still functional? That sounds like heaven."

"No it sounds like Jim's tolerance is through the roof." you said, to which Xavier nodded in agreement.

"He's been smoking since he was like 12. I'm jealous." Xavier said, handing the joint off to Montana who took a few hits before passing it to you. As you inhaled, you felt your body relax tremendously. A few more hits and the joint was back in Michael's hand.

"Okay everyone!" you yelled, getting everyone's attention. "Camera is all good to go!" You took a couple pictures of Montana and Xavier, your heart too warm at their various poses. He would wrap his arms around her from behind or she would climb on his back, wrapping her arms around his chest. A couple of off guards of the two were taken as well. You told them to act natural, just to converse with each other as you snapped pictures. Pictures of you and Michael followed. He made sure to always make a statement in the pictures that he took with you. He stood behind you, a hand wrapped gently around your throat as he snapped your head back to make you look at him, blissful smiles on both of your faces.

"Hey!" he yelled towards Jim who had his phone in his hand, taking Snapchats of everyone and posting them to his story. "Take a picture of Y/N and I like this. I want to post it to my Instagram." Jim gladly did as Michael asked, immediately sending the photo to him after so that he would have it to post later. The next picture was simple. You and Michael stood next to each other, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and yours wrapped around his waist, the both of you giving a soft smile. The final picture was of him holding you in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist as you pressed your lips against his, the both of you smiling in the kiss.

Jim and Brooke were wild and spontaneous and you loved it. Taking pictures of them were by far your favorite. Brooke held Jim in a headlock, a wild smile across his face and gripped onto her arm as you took the picture. Then she got on his shoulders, Jim holding her securely in place as her hands laid in his hair. Their last picture was of them, backs to the camera as they held hands, staring off into the sunset. You quickly turned the tripod around, taking an off guard of everyone who sat to the side around the fire. Xavier held the joint in his hand, mid sentence in conversation with Chet. Ray, Montana, and Michael were laughing their asses off at God knows what. All the emotions you were feeling inside, you swear you could cry at the sight. You fucking LOVED your friends.

You gathered all the boys up for their group photo. Xavier stood next to Jim, arm around his shoulder, hand slightly over his chest. Next to Jim was Ray, with a tooth pick in his mouth as he leaned into Jim's shoulder, his arms crossed over his chest. Michael stood next to Ray, his hand place on Ray's head as if he were holding a basketball, his other arm wrapped around Chet's shoulder, hand perfectly displaying a middle finger in the middle of Chet's chest.

"God, I fucking love y'all." Brooke said as she stood behind you, watching you take the picture.

"They're cute, aren't they?" you asked, putting on your best focused face as you snapped the picture. You told them to hold their pose as you snapped a couple more, wanting everyone to have a copy of that picture.

"Too cute for their own good." Montana said. "A bunch of shit heads."

"Our shit heads." you said. "Okay guys! Just two more. One of us girls and then all of us together and then we can figure out plans for dinner!" You bit your lip, holding hands with Brooke and Montana as the 3 of you stepped in front of the camera. Montana stood in the middle of you and Brooke, throwing her arms tightly around your shoulders, bringing the two of you closer to her. She stuck her tongue out for the photo, while you held up a peace sign with your hand, a wide, closed eyed smile on your face. Brooke held onto Montana's arm, her own wide, but opened eyed smiled, forming across her face. You can tell that Michael had taken a few extras for everyone else, consider how many time the cameras flashed behind your closed eyes.

Finally, the moment you, and you're sure everyone else was waiting for. The big, family, photo. Xavier and Chet took the ends. And in this order everyone stood: Xavier, Montana, You, Michael, Brooke, Jim, Ray, and Chet. You set the timer on the camera, all 9 of you trying to come up with different poses quickly for the camera. Your favorite one as you went through them had to be the one where you and Michael sat in the sand in front of Brooke and Jim who now stood between Xavier and Ray. He let you wrap your arms around his torso, your nose nestled perfectly into his cheek as you gave him a small kiss. 

"Okay." Xavier sighed as he hopped into the drivers seat of Jim's midnight blue Tahoe. Jim himself in the passenger seat. Brooke and Montana took the second row. You and Michael snuggled together comfortably in the very back row, your feet sprawled out in Chet and Ray's laps as they both got lost in their phones scrolling through Facebook and sharing memes with each other, which reminded Michael to post the picture of the two of you Jim had sent to him. "Anyone have any dinner ideas before we leave? Anyone in the mood for anything particular?"

"Honestly could just keep it classic and go for a burger and a shake right now." Ray said from the back.

"Ooo, from where though?" Jim asked, turning around to look at him. "That shake sounds really fucking good. Chocolate shake. I want a chocolate shake."

"Tommy's!" Montana, Brooke, Ray, and Chet said in unison.

"Michael? Y/N?" Xavier questioned, pushing his sun glasses down so he could look at the both of you.

"A cookies and cream milkshake is calling my name right now." Michael said as his hand lazily brushed through your hair.

"You had me at burger." you agreed.

"Tommy's it is." Xavier said, finally starting Jim's car, his blue LED strips, dimly illuminating the car, the last song on his phone beginning to play as Xavier single-handedly backed out of the parking space.

Despite how tired everyone was, the car ride was far from silent. For the first 30 minutes anyways. It would take over an hour and a half before you all got back into downtown LA. You finally sat up in your seat, Michael throwing his arm around your shoulder to keep you close to him. So needy , you thought, but you loved that about him. He always wanted to be close to you. He always wanted to touch you. He made sure you felt loved and secured. You watched at the front as Jim and Xavier currently sang and half danced to the song that played. You glanced at Brooke and Montana who had fallen asleep rather quickly, heads leaned against the car window. Chet and Ray had resorted to playing Among Us to pass the drive time, Michael soon joining them.

"Okay, fucking seriously." Michael said as he furrowed his eyebrows, pissed that he was killed by the imposter yet again. And the imposter just happened to be Chet, but of course he kept silent, not wanting to alert Ray. You giggled to yourself, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. You wiped them anyway, inhaling deeply before exhaling.

"Everything alright?" Michael asked, noticing your change of mood. "Why are you crying?" He made sure to whisper, not wanting to draw attention to the both of you.

"Michael." you said. "I love you."

"I love you too, Y/N." he smiled.

"And all of our crazy friends."

"I love them too." he laughed.

Fuck, I love my friends

Without them, I'd be dead

I know they're the only ones who'll love me till the end

We're all such a mess, lonely and depressed

Been so long and I can't wait to see them again

Fuck, I love my friends

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid​ @theneverendinghunger​ @fernfiction

Again, let me know if you would like to included in the tag list for this series!

[consumedkings-archive]

WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic. chapter twelve: the desire to devour

word count: ~10.3k rating: m warnings: naughty language, .000002 seconds of spiciness (but not really), john goes "we were vibing, right? we had the vibes? right?" for like the entire last half. also mentions of self-harm and elliot's previous trauma. notes: hi friends! i hope you enjoy this chapter! this is going to be the last sort of in-between chapter before we really get into it, and from here it's going to go faaaaast. i had a lot of fun writing it and feeling out these different dynamics. not to mention john being a gigantic fuckhead (but like what is new, lmao). special thank you as always to my wifey and beta reader @starcrier for your impeccable eyeballs, and also to @vasiktomis and @shallow-gravy for lending their eyes as well because i did fuss a bit with this chap. i would be lost without y'all. thank you everyone for your love and support, esp with comments! it really fills my heart so so much to hear back from you, and i am always in the market for friends so do not be afraid to reach out to me <3

She is twenty-five.

She’s twenty-five, and it's her first full day of work. Or, it was; now, she's sitting in the Spread Eagle listening to Pratt talk about everything that's happened while she's been gone, because he'd said, c'mon, let me take you out tonight. He grins a boyish, toothy grin at her—the same kind that's mimicked in the multiple school dance photos her mother covets—and tries to sound nonchalant when he asks how she liked being in the city.

It's hard not to think about how this is the first place she had ever met John Seed, then-Duncan, and how it feels like it's spoiled the whole place for her.

Elliot redirects her attention as best as she can to what it is Pratt is saying. He's fishing for information. They've always been each other's safety net, the person they can fall back on when all else fails. School dances. Picking partners in class. Graduation walking buddies. He'd driven her to the airport when she left for the Academy, even. But even though she knows he's trying to figure out if she's still a safety net, Elliot can't disguise the way thinking about Mason makes her feel—disgusting—so she brings the beer bottle to her mouth and takes a swallow.

The result is her face scrunching up. Pratt laughs.

“Geez, Elli, slow down,” he says, his smile crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “Bet money you're still a lightweight. When'd you start drinking beer, anyway?”

“I didn't,” she manages out around the taste, swallowing thickly. “I just won't let your money go to waste.”

He shrugs, as if to say, could, if you wanted, and swivels on the stool a little. He wants to press again—she can tell—but seems to have the good sense not to, instead busying his mouth with his own beer.

“Mama said Whitehorse let you right on,” Elliot says casually, trying to ignore the twinge of envy in her voice.

Pratt shrugs again. “He's known my dad a long time.”

“Known my mom too,” Elliot replies, dry.

“Yeah, well.” Pratt pauses, and sounds a little smug when he says, “Just because your mama likes me doesn’t mean I don’t know how she is to everyone else.”

“Likes you, does she?”

“Obviously,” the brunette replies confidently. “She still keeps all those photos of us. Remember senior year, she had all of her gal pals over when we were getting ready for prom—”

“Ugh.”

“—took us about 45 minutes before we were exactly where she wanted to take pictures—"

She rolls her eyes. Pratt grins, and then bumps his shoulder against hers. He says, “Aw, c’mon. Not so bad, is it? Having your mom like me?"

Elliot can feel the flush spreading under her cheeks. Not because she's embarrassed, or flustered, but because the beer sitting in her stomach feels rotten, and because Pratt's looking at her with the same kind of eyes he did before—always, always there's the before—and she doesn't know how to say I'm not her anymore, I'm not that girl, I'm different and changed and I don't know how to go back.

It doesn't matter. If Pratt can see it on her face, he doesn't let it show; just pats her shoulder and pretends he doesn't see the way she flinches from his hand swinging into her peripheral, pretends he doesn't notice the way she covers it up by swallowing another mouthful of beer she doesn't want to drink.

“Hudson’s really glad to have you back,” he says after a minute, when she doesn’t confirm nor deny that it’s not so bad knowing her mom thinks he’s a fine enough person. “Been talking about it nonstop.”

A smile creeps its way onto her face. “I’m glad to be back. With her, especially.”

“Yeah, you two always been thick, huh?”

She nods, swallows more beer, and Pratt rolls his eyes and snags the bottle out of her hand.

“Don’t keep drinking if you don’t like it,” he tells her, and then finishes it off himself, setting the empty bottle on the countertop with a grimace. “Can’t have people telling Whitehorse I bullied the probie into drinking.”

“‘Probie’,” she scoffs. “I could kick your ass.”

“Bullshit!”

“Could’ve done it before, Pratt.”

“Now that is lies and slander.”

Elliot only grins at him, the only time since coming back sans Joey getting her from the airport that it’s been a genuine thing; lopsided and a little sloppy but a grin nonetheless. Pratt finishes his own beer now, coughing a little into his fist before he blurts out, “I’m glad, too.”

She blinks. “Huh?”

“That you’re back,” Pratt clarifies. “Y’know—nice to have my friend back. Didn’t like sendin’ you off to the big city, anyway.”

He doesn’t know. He can’t know, because her mother won’t talk about it and Joey would never divulge what it was that had brought about her speedy return—but even though he doesn’t know about the way she has to swallow back a flinch every time he waves his hand in her peripheral, or the way the smell of beer on a man’s breath makes her stomach clench with anxiety, or how her hands are so fucking cold all the time because her heart hammers in her chest, the way he says that (Didn’t like sendin’ you off to the big city, anyway) feels a little like vindication.

“S’okay,” she murmurs, nudging his shoulder with hers. “Came back in one piece, didn’t I?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The scent of roses wafted over her in waves. The sound of bathwater murmuring against the sides of the porcelain tub rippled each time she moved, each time she used the grip of her hands against the lip of the sides to sink herself under; her knuckles went cold with the ferocious grip, but when she went under she was submerged in quiet once more. Blissful, serene, quiet; just what she wanted.

Elliot pulled herself out of the water. Downstairs, she could hear her mother’s voice, spiking frantic even through the floors and the two closed doors that kept her separated.

“...years, Mr. Seed, I have lost years of my life agonizing over what she did to herself...”

She dipped below the water, closing her eyes. No sound; no shrill noise; just the heavy, bloated static that existed underneath the surface of the bath. Only her and the baby.

It occurred to her, absently, that she needed to start picking out names for the baby. Now that they had a guess at what the gender was, they’d have to decide about a name; not only a first, but a middle, too—the last name—

“...find it quite intriguing, actually, that the second she comes back to me after being involved with your kind that she’s got all this—this—”

Oh, don’t say it, Elliot thought tiredly, closing her eyes.

“—tear, just wretched wear and tear, Mr. Seed, don’t you? Don’t you find that intriguing?”

John was sitting down there, enduring a thorough verbal lashing, and she hadn’t even asked him to. She’d said, I don’t care if she thinks it was me, and he’d guided her upstairs and cupped her face and kissed her, long and open-mouthed, and swept his thumb over her cheek. Now, Elliot could hear the sound of his voice—calmer, empathetic, like just knowing that her mother was hysterical was giving him some kind of control over himself—but that he was speaking in a normal tone meant that his words didn’t come through quite so clearly.

She heard the sound of her mother saying, “I suppose you’re going to tell me why you’re not bothered in the least?” just before she dipped under the water again.

What was she going to name the baby? Did she even have an idea of what kinds of names she liked? Exhaustion pulled at the edges of her attention; she thought, I’m too tired to come up with a baby name, and gripped the edges of the bathtub harder. More fierce, more firm; grip and pull, maybe spill the entire bathtub over, tilt the clawed feet until it hit the tiled floor and the porcelain broke and the rose-scent water flooded the bathroom, her room, the hallway.

Then they’d have to leave. Then they couldn’t stay, surely, in a house flooded with rose water.

Fingers brushed over hers where they’d gone white at the edges of the tub. She pulled herself out of the water to find John sitting there, knelt at the side of the tub—not unlike the way he’d sat back at her mother’s house in Hope County, when she’d drank too much in the bathtub and said that he could mark her.

Because that’s what it had been. As much as she had wanted it, as much as she had enjoyed it, no matter what John said—he had been marking her as his. Like that Oscar Wilde poem.

The same sin binds us.

Elliot brushed the water from her eyes and settled her head back against the tub, regarding him. He looked less bothered than she thought he would, having sat through her mother’s grilling and interrogation—though he did look like he wanted to say something, like maybe it was sitting, burning into ash in his mouth, the way she could see the flex of his jaw and the way his free hand clenched and loosened.

Ignoring the nagging feeling that he wanted to ask her what she’d been doing under the water, and the even more bothersome knowledge that she had, at some point, become painfully aware of his body language, Elliot said, “We have to think of a name.”

John blinked at her. Less than an hour ago, he’d been saying Of course I’d come for you, I love you, with or without the baby I love you, and she’d been sobbing into his arms and clinging to him.

He said, “And a middle name.”

“I’m trying not to think about it.”

A smile finally ticked the corner of his mouth, his fingers uncurling hers from the edge of the tub. Reluctantly, she let him.

“Your mother’s upset.” He paused. “She still wants you to play nice for her Christmas party, but she’s upset.”

“I know,” she replied sullenly. The despair of her shame, which had at once both overwhelmed her and hollowed her out, had dissipated in the wake of her indignation. What would she know, that vicious thing inside of her said, replaying the way her mother’s expression had crumpled. What would she know of our suffering? What would she know of our pain? ‘Wretched wear and tear’, like we haven’t been torn up for ages, like she didn’t throw us to the wolves and scoff in disgust when we came back bloodied and battered.

She wanted to be angry, really angry, but like most things that had to do with her mother, Elliot found herself more exhausted than anything. Scarlet had always found it impossible to comprehend the scars she’d given herself, had always claimed to feel disconnected to the ways Elliot had searched out meaning and comfort.

Absently, Elliot wet her lips and let her gaze flicker up to where John had perched himself beside the tub. He looked mighty pleased with himself, having finally gotten his words out. I love you, he’d said, palm flat against her window, I love you, with or without the baby.

And John, I want a home with you.

And John, Marriage is hard work, but I know you’re just the woman for the job.

And John, No way baby, I’m fucking it for you.

Blood rushed through her head, thunderous. John was saying something to her, but the words felt distant, and far away, and everything felt like it was underwater when she moved—not just the parts of her submerged in the bath, but all of it, the air too-thick and dragging on her skin and pulling her down slow as molasses. She blinked a few times as she disentangled their hands and reached for the towel, but John pulled it off of the hook first.

She watched him. She watched his mouth move, and his brows pull and furrow together at the center of his forehead, and the way his breath rose and fell in his chest, pushing and pulling the Sloth scar scratched across his sternum. Just like me, dream John had said, gripping her blood-covered hands, you’re just like me.

His voice, muffled and bogged down by the blood rushing through her ears, quirked up at the end. Elliot’s eyes darted back to his, and she asked, “Sorry, what?”

“The water’s cold,” he replied, waving the towel a bit. “Aren’t you getting out?”

“Yeah,” Elliot murmured. She felt hollow. Her fingers itched. She wanted—

John caught her hand as she stepped out of the bathtub, steadying her while her free hand gathered the towel up against her front. Goosebumps prickled across her skin, the lukewarm temperature of the bath still lingering; his fingers interlaced with hers, and she used it to steady herself.

He was close. They were close. A part of her resented it—that she let him be so close to her, that she let him kiss her and fuck her but mostly that she let him hold her when she cried, miserably, that she wanted to go home. Because after everything, after all of it, Hope County still felt—

She closed her eyes. Of course it still felt like home. Joey was there; now she knew Pratt was, too.

And among all of that, if she waded through the weeds spreading in her mind, if she hacked and cut them away, there was John.

“What are you thinking about?” John murmured, his cologne washing over her, their noses brushing. Her eyes fluttered open and she let out a little breath, that wanton little creature in her head chanting it over and over. There’s John, there’s always been John, nobody will love us with this much red in our ledger. No one but him.

“You,” she managed. Her head felt swimmy, the words coming out of her mouth sounding like a stranger’s—thick with want. John’s eyes flickered up to hers, having fixed on her mouth.

“If you want something, Ell,” he rumbled, the pressure of his fingertips against the back of her neck guiding her forward just a little but not all the way, “you only—”

Elliot leaned forward and kissed him, her hand lifting so that she could curl her fingers into his hair, the towel slipping to the floor. His body had tensed, like he wasn’t expecting it—like he was waiting for something else—and she thought about the way he’d kissed her with Kian’s blood in her mouth, the way he’d been just rampant with desire, the way the way the way—

Her teeth caught his lower lip, a little sharper than she’d intended, and his hand gripping her wrist tightened and he moaned, and she felt that same little thrill as before surge through her. It’s my magic, too, the itch in her fingers subsiding when she dug her nails in and pulled his hair a little, parting her lips against his; John leaned into her, crowding her up against the counter in front of the mirror, the hand at the nape of her neck threading into damp hair.

“Ell,” he said against her mouth, his voice rougher than before and hands planted on the counter on either side of her, “what are you doing?”

She murmured, “Stop talking,” and kissed him again, fingers clumsily working through the buttons on his shirt—her voice came out even but everything else about her felt wobbly, unsteady, craving craving craving the way it felt to have him begging her. Anything, to feel in control. Anything, to feel whole. Dig, and dig, and when you hit the bottom you keep digging some more, right?

What do we do with grief, right?

Burn and erase the image of her mother’s disgust and horror at seeing a part of her she might actually like, scrape it from her mind, dig her trenches deep deep deep and hunker down where she could feel safe, where she could feel strong; soon she would be home and—

And John’s teeth snagged her lower lip in retribution, sparking violent and red-hot behind her eyes with pleasure lighting her neurons on fire.

“Off,” she ground out against his mouth, pushing helplessly at the shirt she’d only halfway unbuttoned. The brunette grinned; his hands resumed her work, and she instead devoted her attention to the belt at his waist, yanking at it as John’s face dropped to her neck, hot breath fanning across her skin teeth dragging against her pulse point to pull a moan out of her.

There was a split second between John discarding his shirt on the floor and gripping her hips to lift her onto the countertop, his mouth seeking hers out again as she wound her arms around his neck. She had never been completely naked and felt not vulnerable at all, felt more in control—but she did, now, when she grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled and he moaned her name, a little frantic, Ell, Ell, hellcat, he said into their kiss, let me let me, greedy and wanting as he glided fingers up along the inside of her thigh.

He tensed, like he was going to drop to his knees, and she kept her hand in his hair and said, “Don’t.”

“Hm,” is what he replied, “pulling on my hair, ordering me to take my clothes off—”

“I’m about to tell you to shut up again.”

“—but won’t let me eat you out?” John grinned against her mouth, the scent of his cologne—expensive, stupid shit, but it never failed to feel like it was overwhelming her senses—washing over her. “What is it, baby? Want me to say please?”

Yes, something wicked inside of her said, John’s eyes lifting from her mouth to hers, narrowing playfully. Yes, I’d like that, I’d like to hear you say it like that.

“I know you,” he purred. He dug his nails into her hips, a sound—the wanting kind—trying to crawl its way up her throat. “Know exactly what you want from me. Yeah? So, Ell, won’t you please—”

There was a sharp knock at the door, a pause, and then: “Elliot?”

A near-silent laugh billowed out of John, stifled into her neck when her mother’s voice came through the door. Elliot’s eyes fluttered; her fingers, knotted in John’s hair, loosened and smoothed down the back of his neck, the intoxicating tension relaxing just a little. Heat had coiled in the hollow of her chest, spreading warm fingers at the same leisurely pace that John’s hand drifted up to her hip, his mouth finding the hollow of her jaw.

“I can’t believe her,” she muttered. “Yes?”

“Miss West is here, with her brother.” Scarlet’s voice was tight. “Returning your vehicle.”

Fuck. Elliot sighed, her eyes closing for a second while she tried to gather her thoughts. It was difficult to focus with John’s breath on her neck and his hands on her skin and that fucking cologne—and boy, did she not want to dwell on the fact that he’d shown up with barely anything but somehow also remembered to pack his stupid fucking cologne. But there was a different, special kind of warmth that spread through her when she realized that Sylvia was coming to check on her.

“Hair’s wet,” she called after a moment, “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Fine.” There was another pause, and then her mother’s voice, scathing even through the door: “Ensure you are put together, Elliot.”

John murmured against her neck, “So no hickeys, then?” and she swatted his shoulder, rolling her eyes and sliding off of the counter. He seemed reluctant to let her disembark, thumb sweeping the slope of her hip before he dropped down—just far enough to plant a kiss on the gentle slope of her tummy. It was—sentimental, unseating her with incredible ease.

And then he ruined it by saying, “Your mommy won’t let me fuck her filthy, but I hear the second trimester throws a woman’s hormones through the roof, so we’ll see how long that lasts,” to her bump as he grabbed the towel from the floor to offer to her.

She snatched it from his hands, wrapping it around herself. “Don’t say that shit to the baby. You think I won’t end your life?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” he offered, head cocked to the side. “Leaving the hickeys, anyway, I mean. Well, and the second part too. About sex. Not the murderous part. Actually, you know I find it—”

Choosing to ignore the latter statement, Elliot narrowed her eyes. “You’d risk Via’s opinion of you dropping so severely?”

“You know what they say.” John spread his hands, almost in a gesture of helplessness; though she knew he was far from it. “Old habits die hard.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“She’s killing all of my angels!”

Faith’s voice was sharp, piercing; Isolde’s fingers fluttered over the bridge of her nose to fend off an impending headache, pen held poised above the notepad where she’d been writing down her thoughts but had paused in time for the girl’s interjection. She couldn’t stand a messy page—ink smears, jarred letters. Unacceptable.

Two hours ago, she’d had Jacob drive her out to where the service was strongest. A flood of emails and texts from her family had been waiting to overload her phone. Her dad, things are looking poorly, where are you?, her sister, I’ve been trying to reach you for days.

“Jacob,” the blonde plunged on, interrupting her train of thought, “you have to do something. They’re being—gutted like fish!”

“You should have locked them down,” Jacob told her. “And you’re not the only one losing things.”

“I put—” Faith cut herself off, clearly taking a moment to compose herself before she pitched her voice low and said, “I put just as much work into them as you do into yours.”

The red head’s voice bloomed with annoyance when he said, “Oh, did you?”

“No fighting, please,” Joseph called from where he sat next to her. His voice was even, elbows rested on his legs and fingers interlaced in thought. “I know this is stressful. But you must keep your faith in God.”

“Santi told me that—whoever she is has been leaving their corpses all around!” Faith’s voice pitched high with distress, now, sweeping around Jacob to come to where they had sat, big doe eyes wide. “We have to do something. Please, Father—I don’t want our people to wonder if they’re going to be next.”

Joseph paused, looking pensive for a moment; Isolde thought he might have been trying to figure out how he wanted to phrase something, but before he could speak, Isolde looked at Jacob and said, “You were going to hunt her down anyway, weren’t you?”

The eldest Seed’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you start with me too, Sol.”

“Get some fresh air,” she replied curtly, “go for a drive, clear your head. Eliminate a problem. You’ve been wearing a hole in the floors anyway; put that energy into being productive.”

“P—” Jacob’s voice spiked, incredulous. “Excuse me?”

He was agitated. She could tell—Pratt, and the phone call with the deputy in Georgia, and the Hunter on some kind of one-man rampage. But more importantly, Isolde thought, Jacob was agitated because there had not been a single conversation between him and Joseph since their argument.

Well, not even an argument. Just a lashing. A public one.

Isolde scooted her chair back from the table that had been set up at the front of the chapel, setting her pen down and stepping away. Her hand landed on the crook of Jacob’s elbow as she passed, and though he made a noise that implied disdain, he followed—not without shrugging her hand off by the time they got to the front doors of the chapel, leaving the other two to talk in low, murmured voices.

“You have got to stop letting this get to you,” she hissed.

“Nothing is ‘getting’—”

“Listen to me,” Isolde interjected. “I’ve been keeping as close an eye on the news as I have been on you. Things are—” She paused, mouth twisting around the words. “There is no room for you lot to be bloody fighting with each other. Do you understand me? This has moved far past needing to prepare PR and build a legal defense.”

Jacob’s eyes narrowed. He looked suspicious. “So why are you still here then, Sol?” he asked.

The words burned insult in her chest. Why are you still here, stinging fresh and hot, because it was a fair question. It was the most fair question. Unlike any of these people, she had a family outside that she still loved. Her sister, and her parents. She should have told John and all of the Seeds to go fuck themselves, to enjoy the end of the world, while she went to be with her family.

But she wasn’t. She was here. Doing—this. Finding fresh new ways for Joseph to connect with his people to keep their morale high, keeping the infighting at bay to make sure they looked like a united front to everyone, second doomsday cult included.

“My parents will take care of Avery. You know they’re close with—government,” she replied after a minute, shaking off the unease. “And I told John that I would.”

He snorted. “John says jump, you ask how high?”

“No,” she bit out, “I say jump and you kiss the fucking ground I’m standing on because I cobbled together what the fuck is left of your congregation.” Before Jacob could say anything, Isolde added, “My hands are full, Jake. Do not add to my pile.”

Dark brows furrowed, his mouth thinning in disdain. He clearly wanted to say something. But true to his nature, Jacob straightened back and settled himself before he said, “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine,” he reiterated with his eyes narrowed. “I’m going to the Veteran’s Center.”

“That doesn’t sound like where we heard about the killings happening last,” Isolde protested, eyes narrowing.

“But she was there,” he replied. “Or someone was. Someone was there enough to steal my files.”

“Your—” Isolde snapped her mouth shut, sucking her teeth as she glanced back at Joseph and Faith; haloed in the dim lighting of the chapel, she could see them looking back at Jacob and herself expectantly. She wondered how much they could hear, from there.

Turning her attention back to Jacob and pitching her voice down in volume, Isolde hissed, “I don’t think prioritizing files is the best move right now.”

“Thank you,” Jacob idled, “for your input.”

“Fuck you.”

“Have fun,” he added, opening the door and letting in a waft of biting, cold air, before gesturing to the Book of Joseph on the table that she’d had her nose stuck in. All the better to make Joseph’s sermons hit home harder, after all. “You know—with your light reading.”

Isolde narrowed her eyes, watching him trudge down the steps for just a second before she said, “Jacob—”

“Yes, Isolde?”

Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “Don’t get shot.”

For a moment, he looked almost surprised at her words—but it was only a moment before he said, “Don’t worry, I’m taking Vidal. He makes a suitable meatshield.”

“God, he’s a talker.”

A tiny ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of Jacob’s lips, before he said, “John and the deputy should be making their way here any day now.”

Isolde grimaced. “I was there for the phone call.”

“Are you going to leave?” Jacob pressed, expression stiffening again. “When he does?”

She paused, clearing her throat and shifting on her feet. I should, were the words that wanted to come out of her mouth. I should go. I only came down here because John wasn’t here. I should go, and get back to my life, and maybe get to my family and try to stay out of the crossfire and—

After a heartbeat, she said, “I don’t know.”

Jacob shrugged, as if to say, see? Told you, though to what he could be referring to, she had no idea; she only knew that she didn’t like the way he swung around and sauntered out of the chapel, leaving her alone in the tepid warmth with Joseph and Faith’s eyes on her in favor of the blistering cold outside. Snow had continued to dump throughout the day and night, and had only just let up recently; the members of Eden’s Gate—those who had survived the Family’s relentless assaults, and those that had been pulled from the bunkers—had been tirelessly shoving pathways, only to have their work tidily undone each night.

Fingers brushed the palm of her hand. Isolde startled; she glanced back just as fingers interlaced with hers to be met with sweet, bright eyes and Faith’s adoring attention planted on her.

“It means so much to me,” Faith murmured, “that you would help. Not just me, but all of us.”

Soli watched the blonde for a moment, trying to gauge. The physical closeness was not something she was accustomed to; carefully, she disentangled their fingers, skin prickling with unease. When she glanced up, Joseph’s eyes were on them, on Faith’s fingers falling from her hand but skimming the inside of her palm in a lingering touch of affection.

He was always doing that. Watching. Watching, and waiting, and pinning each movement and gesture and thought and word out perfectly like the wings of a butterfly, just the color he liked and just the shape.

“Don’t thank me,” Isolde replied, mustering a smile and brushing the hair from her face.

“It’s my job.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Hey, Miss Honey, John!”

Wyatt’s cheerful voice broke through the late-afternoon chill; the sun setting early, people’s breath coming out in puffs of smoke. It all felt oddly normal, given the circumstances of the morning and the way she’d forgotten to call Sylvia once she got home, and that her friend had fished up a reason to come by the house and make sure she hadn’t—

Well.

Still, if there was any remnant of the morning in Sylvia’s heart, it didn’t show in her face, and it certainly didn’t show in Wyatt’s. Instead, both blondes beamed at her, radiant, the second she came out with fuzzy, fresh-from-the-blow-dryer hair and swaddled up to her chin in thick fabrics to fend off the cold.

And, truthfully, to hide the bump. John had reminded her of it, and even though the moment had been a...good one, it had also reminded her she hadn’t expressed this truth to Sylvia or Wyatt. As John closed the door behind her and jogged down the steps,

“Howdy,” Ell greeted, albeit a bit awkwardly thanks to her stuck-somewhere-nowhere-sort-of-accent. “You didn’t have to drive it back all the way out here, you know.”

“Sure we did.” Wyatt chirped. “Wouldn’t be very neighborly of us if we let it sit and the battery died out, now would it?”

“No,” John demurred after a moment even as Elliot’s cheeks went warm, “I suppose not.”

“You all recovered from this morning?” Via asked cheerfully, purposefully avoiding the actual question. Elliot shifted on her feet. John’s hand skimmed the small of her back, and even through the layers of fabric, it felt warm; she wondered if this was what it would have been like for them, had their life been normal. Had John been truthful with her from the get-go. Now, with everything laid out between them—the lies unearthed and only the brutal, unapologetic knowledge that they wanted each other, in one way or another—it felt like they might have been normal. Sometime, somewhere, someplace else.

It was still hard to swallow, all of it. The lies and the now-truths and the knowledge that she did, in fact, want.

“Oh, yeah,” Ell replied faintly. “Took a bath and...” She tried for a smile. “Decompressed.”

“That what smells so good?”

“Y’all get that tired from dress shoppin’?” Wyatt tsked, having pulled his coat out of the jeep and started to pull it on. He grinned at her and skillfully dodged a side-swipe from Sylvia; he had a good foot of height on her—and Elliot—so it wasn’t difficult. The siblings fussed for only a moment before Sylvia managed to fetch the Jeep’s keys from Wyatt’s coat pocket and held them out to Elliot, puffing.

She was in the middle of saying, “Your keys, madame,” when John’s head tilted and he muttered, “Now what is this?”, drawing her attention to the end of the drive. A police cruiser made its way slowly down the drive, carefully pulling up behind the Jeep.

Not beside it. Not further up toward the garage, not on the other side of the four of them chatting. Behind it. Blocked in.

Sheriff Pritchard stepped out, shuffling a little as he adjusted the black, fur-trimmed jacket on his shoulders and closed the driver side door. He’d come alone, which made Elliot certain he wasn’t here to arrest her—and what a ludicrous thought, that he might have considered it a possibility, because the mere mental image of Pritchard grabbing her arm and keeping his eyes in his head made a hysterical kind of laugh want to bubble out of her.

Not me, not me and not my baby, that thing inside of her said, lifting its hackles and baring its teeth when Pritchard began to saunter over. Not my baby.

“Afternoon, you two. And Wests,” Pritchard greeted as he drew closer. He’d earned himself a curious murmur from Sylvia. “Havin’ a little shindig out here, Miss Honeysett?” Elliot opened her mouth to respond, but he lifted his hands quickly in defense. “‘M sorry, forgot myself. Mrs. Seed.”

It caught her off-guard, sucked the air right out of her lungs. It was one thing to hear her mother say John is Elliot’s husband, to hear her say John is my son-in-law, but it was another entirely to hear herself referred to as Mrs. Seed. It had never, ever been that she was John’s wife, except out of his own mouth, but now—

John seemed eager to engage with Pritchard, because he said, “Something that you needed, sheriff?”

“Yes, actually. Believe it or not, I ain’t in the business of drivin’ out to the rich part of town just for shits and giggles,” Pritchard replied coolly. “Your mama home, Elli?”

“Probably resting,” Sylvia offered, smiling politely. “We just finished dress shoppin’ for her Christmas Party not but an hour ago.”

“Yeah,” Pritchard rumbled, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. “Heard about your little trip to the boutique today.”

John asked irritably, “Do you need to smoke that right now?”

Elliot swallowed thickly. Her lashes fluttered, eyes desperate to close; the warmth that had flooded her face now felt like it verged on feverish, threatening to make her head swim again. This was bad. This was bad-bad, chop her hair off and run run run again bad, the kind of bad that made a girl change her name and burn her birth certificate and make sure that nobody would ever be able to find her again.

“I don’t,” she began, “think mama’s feeling up to visitors right now.”

Pritchard eyed her, taking a puff of his cigarette while completely glazing over John’s pointed question. “Imagine not. You know, you been a hot topic of conversation lately, Mrs. Seed. Gotten loads of questions about you. Lady from out of town, Federal Marshals. I don’t like folks sniffin’ around my town, you know, especially not the fuckin’ Feds, but it’s gotta make me wonder.” The smoke curled out from his nose, the smoke of a lazy, self-righteous dragon wafting around her.

“Sheriff,” John continued tightly, clearing his throat, “you’re going to need to put that out.”

“We’re outside, Mr. Seed. You ain’t ever seen someone smoke a cigarette outside?”

“Do you make a habit of smoking around pregnant women?” John snapped viciously, and oh, she thought, oh, I didn’t even think of that, because her brain was too busy kicking into overdrive and parse out the absolute confirmation that Federal Marshals were asking after her and strange women, too. Oh, I didn’t even think about the baby.

And then Sylvia said, eyes wide as saucers as she laughed, flustered, “Oh, John, that’s very kind of you, but I’m not—” and her eyes landed on Elliot, and she blinked rapidly.

Wyatt was looking at her, too. Big, big eyes, surely having not only learned that she and John were married but that she was also pregnant in the span of only a few minutes. At least, Elliot didn’t think Sylvia would have divulged that information, and if the shock he was clearly trying to cover up in his expression was any indication, that gut feeling was right.

No, she thought, no, this is not what I wanted. This is not what I wanted at all. It wasn’t his to tell, it wasn’t his to tell, it was mine, my choice, mine alone.

Her gaze snapped to Pritchard. She said, “It’s time for you to leave.”

Pritchard lifted his eyebrows. “That so? Well, good for me I ain’t here to talk to you, missy.”

“Get. Off. My. Property,” she bit out through her teeth. “Scarlet isn’t taking visitors, and I’ll cut the decay out of my own teeth before she makes anything close to the time of day for you.”

Now, his eyes narrowed and the cigarette sat between his fingers, still burning amber at the end. “Excuse me?”

“And tell the fucking Feds whatever you want,” she snapped, fingers curled tightly around the keys until the metal edges dug into the nooks and crannies of her hand. “But whatever you do, get the fuck out of my driveway, sheriff.”

Something flickered in the corner of her vision. John started, “Ell,” and his hand went to her shoulder, but she jerked back from him before he could make much more than a brush of contact.

“Don’t,” Elliot snapped at him, her voice wobbling and the tears—shameful tears—welling up and burning, “touch me.”

“Alright, okay,” Sylvia murmured, “Elliot and I are gonna go inside, and John can—”

“Ain’t here to talk to Mr. Seed,” Pritchard drawled venomously.

“If you’re asking questions about Elliot,” Sylvia replied calmly, taking Elliot’s hand with a firm squeeze, “I can imagine there is no better person to ask than her husband, don’t you think so, Sheriff?”

Pritchard’s eyes were squinted into poisonous little slits, and he took a long drag of his cigarette.

“Mrs. Honeysett won’t be any type of cooperative if you get her up now,” Wyatt chimed in, eyes flickering nervously to Elliot—perhaps both because of the news and because of her outburst. But she didn’t have time to think much about it, because Sylvia was tugging her out of the cluster of folks, ginger and reassuring even as her brother plunged on, “I mean, sheriff, come on—you know how women can be when they’re gotten up too early, let alone they’ve been shoppin’ all day—”

And Pritchard said, “You want I should put my cigarette out now, Mr. Seed?” as Sylvia opened the door,

and John replied with a slick, charismatic kind of venom, “No reason to anymore, smoke to your heart’s content,”

and the door clicked shut behind her and Boomer scampered out from where he’d been snoozing under the dining table.

She had to leave.

She had to go.

She had to get out.

Federal Marshals and strange women asking after her, and now her only two friends in the whole fucking world—

(well, not entirely true, since we still have Pratt, isn’t that right? Isn’t that right, Elli?)

—had just seen her almost go fucking bananas on an officer of the law, had watched her demand he get the fuck out of her driveway for wanting to ask her mother about her, had seen her.

“Hey,” Sylvia said, “you’re alright.”

I’m not, she thought, dropping the keys into the crystal bowl by the door, smearing red against the glass. Her hand stung. She reached with the good, unmarked hand for Boomer absently. His cold, wet nose brushed against it, and he whined, feet tapping against the wood as he bumped her for her attention. I won’t go. I won’t fucking go. I won’t pay the price for what they did to me, what they made me into.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out abruptly, her voice coming out tight. “Sorry that I didn’t—um, tell you. About the—”

“It’s okay,” Sylvia told her quickly, “it’s alright, Elli, it’s not a big deal. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Elli, she said, without knowing what the nickname meant. Elli, Sylvia said, it’s alright, and Joey, right now we need to leave, Elli, and Pratt, geez, Elli, slow down, an affectionate nickname saved only for folks who considered her their friend. Sans Pritchard. Fuck Pritchard.

“Lots of people wait to tell,” Via continued, one hand coming to rest on her shoulder and jarring her out of her thoughts, which were quickly and rapidly devolving back into the urge to march outside and ensure Pritchard was obeying her command. Out out out, something vicious inside of her demanded, we want him out we want him gone.

Elliot said, “Yeah, you’re right,” but she felt far away—not lost, not gone from herself, but thinking. She could pack fast. She could pack fast, and John had brought barely anything, and they could leave right now, her mother none the wiser. They could leave now and be gone and Cameron Burke would have to—

But are we sure it’s Burke? Are we sure it’s Burke and not someone else, come to haul your ass to a fucking psych ward, for what you did in Hope County?

For what you did?

No. She wasn’t sure. She could only hope it was one singular Federal Marshall on her tail, and not an actual piece of the government body. That was all.

But whoever it was that was asking after her—strangers, government officials—it didn’t matter. That old mantra had kicked in again; something has to be done, the same kind of calm before the storm that she’d felt when Joey had been killed, something has to be done.

Something has to be done and I’m going to have to be the one to fucking do it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Pritchard dropped the cigarette into the snow and stamped it out with his bootheel, his eyes fixed on John. Sylvia had rushed Elliot inside, but he didn’t think that had been purely necessary—only in the instance they had wanted to keep Pritchard out of a blood bath. Elliot hadn’t been checking out, trying to keep herself together; she had been angry, and he’d had half a mind to let her say and do exactly as she pleased to the man now standing in front of him in the cold.

“She always been that volatile, Mr. Seed?” the sheriff asked.

“Not undeservingly,” John replied tartly, his eyes narrowed. “Did you have specific questions, sheriff, or did you just come by to terrorize my pregnant wife with your theoretical judgment of her soul?”

“More your speed?” Pritchard replied, lifting a brow.

“Pardon?”

“Heard about you Seed boys,” he continued coolly, “and your...” He gestured with a calloused hand vaguely, looking for the right word.

John smiled, with teeth. “Before I grow old, if you don’t mind, sheriff.”

“Proclivities,” Pritchard elaborated, “for religion.”

Fucking Burke, he thought, with no absence of venom; fucking Burke can’t resist the urge to try and fuck up my life when he’d be better off trying to find a place to hunker down for the end of the world.

“We’re red-blooded Americans,” John idled coolly, “freedom of religion goes hand in hand with that.”

“Mr. Pritchard, you wanna get that car started?” Wyatt cut in abruptly, glancing around like he thought maybe the rest of the patrol might be rolling in any minute. “It doesn’t sound like you’ve got any questions for Mr. Seed.”

“That’s sheriff to you, boy,” he snapped. And then, after a heartbeat, he fished his keys out of his pocket and said, “I s’pose I got all the information I needed, after all.”

“Mmhm.”

John had turned back to the house, spotting Elliot and Sylvia through the front window, when Pritchard announced, “You make sure Scarlet gives me a call when she’s recovered from your wife’s antics, Mr. Seed.”

His gaze returned to the sheriff, narrowed. “Certainly, Sheriff Pritchard.”

“But if I don’t hear from you, no worries,” the man continued, opening his car door, “I’ll make another special trip out here.”

“Goody.”

John flashed another grin when Pritchard’s eyes flickered over him. Wyatt said, “Have a safe drive,” and Pritchard slammed his door shut, his cruiser’s engine roaring to life before he began to slowly back out and make a u-turn to head down the long driveway again. There was a moment of silence, stretching between himself and Wyatt that he didn’t feel particularly inclined to break—after all, Wyatt had been taking liberties with Elliot that he shouldn’t have been—before the blonde finally broke the silence.

“Congrats,” Wyatt said after a minute. “About—uh, the baby, I mean. I didn’t know!”

Ah, he thought, feeling a strange little surge of pride at the way the man across from him shifted on his feet with discomfort, and that’s why Elliot’s mad I brought it up. Her friends didn’t know.

Well, it was better this way, after all. He wouldn’t have taken it back even if he’d gotten the chance, knowing what he did now.

“Thank you,” he replied amiably. “It’s certainly a blessing.”

Wyatt’s mouth twisted for a moment, looking like there was something he wanted to say specifically and didn’t know how to say it without foregoing social niceties, but the sound of the front door opening caught both of their attentions.

“Wyatt, you gonna stand out here like a lemming all afternoon or what?” Via called. “Get the car warmed up, you caveman.” She took a few steps down the front stairs and looked at John. “You’re wanted inside, Mr. Seed.”

A very polite way of telling him that Elliot, perhaps, was in the mood to throttle him with her bare hands. Though he didn’t really see the harm in spilling the news—perhaps with Via, sure, but Wyatt? The cowboy? Like that was ever going to be anything.

“Thanks for your help,” John said, clapping Wyatt on the shoulder before he made his way to the front steps. Via hadn’t moved. In fact, her normally polite expression was eerily cool—whatever amicable, feigned interest she had manicured for him in the past seemed to have evaporated in the wake of Elliot’s own fury.

As he neared, he said, “Something else you needed, Miss West?”

Via’s eyes narrowed. She looked at Wyatt, now inside the car, and then back to John. “You must think I’m mighty dumb, don’t you?”

John lifted an eyebrow inquisitively. “If you think I instigated that little outburst on purpose—”

“What I think,” Via replied, “is that you know exactly what she’s capable of handling. Just because you didn’t do it on purpose doesn’t mean you weren’t thinking of letting her physically assault a police officer.”

His easy-going expression flattened. Sylvia, and her seeing, the same kind of uncanny people-reading skills that Joseph had, too. Seeing his delight at knowing that Elliot would have taken on a man a foot taller than her, pregnant, if it meant keeping him away from the baby, if it meant keeping herself out of the grip of a greater power that wanted her in a psychiatric evaluation.

“I want to like you,” Via continued, taking the steps until she reached the bottom, “and I thought maybe you were here to make a real effort. But it seems like you’re the same person you were before, John Duncan.”

The name sent a jolt of red-hot anger flushing down his spine, filling him up suddenly with a sort of molten rage that only the reminder of his adoptive parents could have inspired in him. When Via went to move past him, he snatched her elbow, holding her in place.

“And where,” he ground out, “did you hear that name, Miss West?”

“It’s called a web browser, John,” Via replied coolly. “You ever heard of Google? Imagine how many John Seeds there are in Hope County, Montana. I don’t need to tell you that the articles regarding you and your brothers, though a bit old, are unflattering. And all I want you to know—” She paused, arm still in his grip. “—is that we’re aware of each other, and that I don’t want anything happening to Elliot.”

“Neither do I,” John replied tightly, “and I especially don’t want someone digging trenches where there’s not a war zone.”

Via regarded him with an even gaze for a moment, glancing back at the car where her brother sat, before she murmured idly, “Kindly take your hand off of my arm, John.”

“Ellliot’s already aware of the any of the information in those articles,” he continued lowly, “just so you know.”

“My point, John,” Via replied casually, “is that I know, and I can—and will—deal with it as I see fit. Now, you gonna take your fuckin’ hand off of my arm, or are we going to have a problem?”

He watched her for a moment—just long enough to consider the dopamine rush of killing her, grabbing a fistful of her hair and slamming her face into the top of the porch, doing something, anything to ensure that Sylvia West was not capable of messing up anything that he was doing—and then he planted a big smile on his face and dropped his hand from her arm.

“Careful,” he said, louder now so that Wyatt would hear, “it’s icy.”

The blonde didn’t respond. Instead, she brushed her hand absently where his had been, as though to brush herself free of his touch, and picked her way across the driveway and to the truck idling just on the other side of the jeep.

Well, that would be one less problem to deal with, in the end.

John made his way inside, closing the front door quietly behind himself and taking a moment to gauge. Just to see what was going on. The house itself was quiet, and Boomer’s little footfalls were nowhere to be heard, and Scarlet wasn’t sipping her vodka in the living room—so.

So.

So.

Taking a breath, he started up the stairs, turning into the hall to find Elliot’s bedroom door halfway ajar. He paused in the doorway; she was rifling through drawers, pulling sweaters and long-sleeved shirts and jeans and sweats out and dropping them into a duffel bag, furious little exhales occasionally coming out of her.

“I was told I was being summoned,” John said, Elliot’s attention razor-sharp and snapping to him immediately.

“Pack your shit,” she said briskly, “we’re leaving.”

He blinked. Taking a step inside, he glanced at Boomer—perched protectively between himself and Elliot—and said, “I thought we were waiting until after the Christmas party?”

“You’re not fucking deaf, John, you heard Pritchard,” she snapped. “The Feds have been asking about me. The only reason they don’t know exactly where to look—whoever it is—is because Pritchard’s a fucking asshole and likes to be as obstinate as possible.”

“And if we sprint out of here,” he replied, “you’re just going to draw their attention.”

“It’s what Pritchard wants.” Elliot zipped the duffel bag shut and then brushed past him into the bathroom, gathering up her toothbrush and toothpaste and the sleeping pills. “For me to be gone. He’ll piss off if I go. And there’s no way he’s going to put up a big fight to cozy up to the government.”

“Elliot.” John watched her furiously gathering things up, and then when she came by again he caught her with his hands. “Ell, just slow down—”

“Stop,” she bit out, “stop telling me what to fucking do, John, and—I told you not to touch me.”

He lifted his hands from her, but not far enough that she could duck past. “Are you that mad about Sylvia and Wyatt knowing you’re pregnant?” When she didn’t answer, and instead hauled the bag over from the other side of the bed to be close to her so that she could dump the collections from the bathroom into it, he sighed. “I didn’t know you hadn’t told them, but I don’t understand what all of the secrecy is about. The baby isn’t—”

“I felt normal!” Elliot replied sharply, her voice pitching a little higher now, and John heard the wet wobble in it too—the way the timbre of her voice thickened and rounded out with the threat of oncoming tears, her cheeks flushed with anger and maybe shame and pain, too. “Okay? I felt—I f-fucking felt normal, for once, and it was enough that Sylvia knew you and I had been—that we’re married, which I don’t even want to dig into right now, but it was another to be like—yes, the father of my fucking child, who I’m actually married to even though I didn’t want it, is here and oh, by the way? He’s part of a cult. Yeah, a fucking doomsday cult. I’m carrying the child of a doomsday cultist.”

“How was I supposed to know?” he demanded. “How was I supposed to know that you didn’t want Sylvia and her brother knowing you were pregnant? You never said. And what does it matter?” And then, feeling the petulance well up inside of him: “I know it probably felt nice, to have Wyatt giving you attention—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she asked, incredulous. “You’re really pulling that now? So, what—you dumped the news because you wanted to make sure my friend found me as off-limited as possible?”

John crossed his arms over his chest. “I know this may come as a shock to you,” he said, feeling the tension peeling apart behind his eyelids, “I really didn’t want Pritchard smoking near my baby.”

“My baby.” Elliot jammed her finger into his chest, just above his heart, her words vicious. “It’s our baby, or it’s my baby, but there isn’t a single fucking universe where the only person this baby is beholden to is you.”

“He’s,” John corrected, tartly. “He’s our baby. And at the end of the day, whether you like it or not—”

“Have you ever,” she cut in over him, biting the words out between her teeth, “done anything for me that wasn’t for you too?”

Watching her, the words sat sticky in his chest. His instinct was to say, of course I have, but that wasn’t true. Of course it wasn’t. And he wasn’t going to pretend like it was, either—because he wasn’t ashamed that everything he had done had been for them, that if Elliot wasn’t his then there would be no point in it, that it was a zero sum game where he either had her or he had nothing.

He said, evenly, “No.”

Elliot looked unseated by his honesty. She swept her fingers across her forehead tiredly and turned back to her bag. “Then do me a favor and pack your shit so we can go.”

John sighed. “Don’t you think—”

“John,” she bit out, “I am making an executive decision.”

“Alright, Ell.”

“And—”

John had turned to the door to go gather what few of his belongings he’d had when Elliot cut herself off, drawing his eyes over his shoulder to her again. She looked unwell—stressed, feverish, her hands buried into the duffel bag maybe to hide the shaking and her face flushed and her brows furrowed together.

“Thank you,” she managed out after a minute, “for being honest. For once.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Pratt brushed the snow from his hair, teeth chattering as he waded through knee-deep snow out towards the water. It had been three days, and Helmi had told him to meet her out there—how she was going to get past the compound’s security, Pratt didn’t know, but he also thought it probably was best not to dwell on the things that Helmi would do (and could do) to get where she needed to be.

Which is why he found himself less and less surprised to find her standing at the edge of the water, in the middle of the night, swathed up to her jaw in dark, heavy fabrics. The only part of her that wasn’t covered were her hands; the closer he got, he could see she was turning a smooth, dark rock over and over in her hands, passing it between them as she watched him come nearer.

“You remembered,” was how she greeted him, most of her face cast in shadow thanks to the high position of the moon behind her. Pratt shivered and jammed his hands into his coat pockets.

“Yeah, well, kinda hard to forget,” he replied. “Considering it’s been looming over me for the last few days.”

“Poor thing,” Helmi agreed, not sounding sympathetic at all. “Did you call her?”

Pratt paused, clearing his throat. There was something that didn’t quite sit right with him, knowing that he had called Elliot not out of a cry for her help—not really, anyway—but because this other cult wanted her. This cult, which had tore its way through Hope County splitting and gutting its residents, wanted her. And Helmi didn’t seem keen on telling him why.

“I did. They just got word that she and John are on the road now,” he said after a moment. “What, uh—do you want her for, anyway?”

Helmi quirked a brow at him, the corner of her mouth tilting upwards. “Shouldn’t you have asked that before making the phone call, if it was going to bother you?”

A little lick of shame and embarrassment crawled red-hot into his cheeks, and he scoffed, turning his face away. “Well, you said you wanted her alive. Can’t say the same for the Seeds.”

“She’s carrying John’s child,” Helmi pointed out. “You think they’d kill her still?”

Pratt grimaced. It was still hard to stomach—the idea that Elliot was with John. Or had been, at one point. It didn’t sound like things were going great, and he could only imagine why. Still—

Still, he thought there was a lesser of the two evils, and Helmi sounded like it. Maybe not the others, but Helmi.

“They don’t have a problem killing babies,” Pratt replied after a minute. “What are you going to do, once she gets here? They won’t let her leave, and they definitely won’t let you in.”

Now, the blonde grinned—pearly teeth in the dark of the night, surprisingly satisfied with herself. “Big one’s pissed at me, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. Well, you know, Faith too. You've been killing her angels.”

She shrugged. “I’ve got a plan. You know exactly as much as you need to know right now. Are you eating?”

The question came so quickly that Pratt didn’t have time to register the oddness of it, replying on automatic the same way he had been with Arden’s consistent, gentle pestering: “Yeah, I mean—don’t have much of an appetite, but...”

His voice trailed off and he glanced back at the woman. Her head was cocked and her eyes were fixed on him expectantly. “What?”

“Eat,” she told him. “Take advantage of as much as you can. And most of all, listen. Any information you can get will be helpful.”

Pratt’s throat felt a little tight. He kept thinking about the way Jacob had grabbed his shoulder, laughing when he’d insulted the woman doing the heavy lifting for Joseph—grinning like a fucking wolf, like he was going to be dinner, next.

He managed out, “He’ll kill me. If he suspects. He’ll take—everything, from me.”

Helmi planted a hand on his shoulder. The gesture made him want to flinch, but he bit back the urge, and he thought maybe she’d seen but didn’t say.

“He already took everything from you,” she replied lightly, “and do you know what that means?”

The dark of her gaze was intense, piercing even in the late night; it made it hard to look away. Voices echoed back in the compound, and briefly, he thought maybe they’d noticed his absence—but he only shook his head.

“It means you have nothing to lose,” Helmi murmured, “and everything to take back from him.” Her hand moved from his shoulder to the back of his neck, the pad of her thumb sweeping up to his pulsepoint pensively. “See? Your heart is beating, and hard. Your blood knows it’s what you want, even if you don’t yet.”

Swallowing thickly, he nodded his head once. Nothing to lose, and everything to take back. Could he? Could he get things back? Is that what Helmi had done? What Elliot had done?

“And don’t fuck it up,” she added, dropping her hand from his neck and zipping her coat up. Leaving so soon. She grinned. “Or I’ll gut you myself. And I guarantee, it won’t be an Återfödelse.”

A nervous, almost hysterical little laugh bubbled up out of him. Helmi shot him a look and then brushed past him, heading back into where the brush became the thickest, calling over her shoulder, “See you in a few days, Staci Pratt.”

A few days. A few days, Elliot would be back, and John Seed would be back, and Helmi would be seeing him. Seeing them. Maybe it would be better to make a break with Elliot, once she got in—but what if she didn’t want to? What if she was one of them?

Pratt let out a puff of hot breath, digging the heel of his palm into his eyesocket while the pain bloomed just there, turning and beginning to trudge back to the compound before anyone noticed his absence. Each scrape and puff of snow fell in line with his heartbeat, the mantra on and off again.

Nothing to lose.

Everything to take back.

[whimsywispsblog]

All’s Not Fair in Love and War

A/N: Hi Wispies! So this is chapter 4! This one’s got little fluff and angst. One of my fav chapters so far. Hope y’all like it! 💜

PART1, PART2, PART3

CHAPTER 4

The next few days went by in the blink of an eye. The only good thing that happened was the return of Woods and Mason.

There was too much for the team to process. The most shocking information was the Greenlight nukes revelation- American nukes run by Hudson which were now in the hands of Perseus. Had it not been for Adler, Hudson would have been killed by Woods when he tried to shift the blame for his blunder onto Adler. While the group was busy figuring out a way to get the control on the nukes or at least find a way to stop Perseus from launching them, Adler decided to break into the KGB headquarters to get the names of the Sleeper Agents. The plan was to break in with Woods and Mason, but they were still stuck in their mission. So it was up to him and Bell.

Hudson was definitely not happy with Bell going in, while Adler was adamant on taking Bell with him. Rei herself wasn't happy with Bell going- what if the side effects of MK-ULTRA showed up? Who would be there to control Bell? And if the side effects showed up and blew their cover, she'd loose Adler forever, even if they are separated.

Reasoning with Adler was like arguing with a wall. Once he decides on one thing, he will never let go of it. "Russ, this is an unnecessary risk! Not only from Hudson's perspective about loosing the names, but also Bell. We never know when he might go out of control."

"Rei, if I were to play everything safe without risks, then I wouldn't be here in this job." The cockiness of his tone irritated Rei to no end. She so badly wanted to just slap him to reality.

"Adler, don't you see?! This is not just about you and your bloody Perseus. You're taking an unnecessary risk and you're going to get us all killed!" Rei shouted. Adler simply puffed. She slapped his hand, so the cigarette fell off. "Fucking look at me when I'm talking to you." Rei growled. Adler looked at her. "You're angry for no reason." Rei shook her head in disbelief. "You're a prick, you know that?" Rei sighed and walked off. Adler watched her leave with a sad expression that was fortunately covered by his shades.

"Gear up, Bell. We're leaving."

-

The entire time since Adler left for the HQ, Rei kept fiddling with her fingers. The thought of things going downhill and loosing Adler worried her. And as a cherry on top of the situation, she was mad at herself for fighting with him before such a high-risk mission. "Relax. We haven't heard anything about Bell so far." Sims said, bringing her a glass of water. "It's not about Bell, Sims. It's just. Does he have to be so damn difficult all the time? I mean, we just had to wait for Mason and Woods. Save the headache." Rei buried her face in her hands. 

"That he is- adamant. But doc can still pull out the riskiest missions without much problem! I wouldn’t be worried.." Rei smiled lightly. She hadn't noticed that the entire time, she accidently bit her lower lip a bit too hard. The familiar taste of metal started to fill her mouth. Drinking some water, Rei decided to go out for a smoke. She definitely needed to clear her mind.

-

Once Adler got back to the base, he was welcomed with a silent treatment from Rei. Luckily, nothing much happened to Bell, except for one moment of discomposure and confusion which was quickly brought under control, thanks to Adler's trigger phrase.

The first thing that Rei did was send Bell back with Sims to the apartment. He needed a proper rest, before putting in another session again. The sleeping pills worked pretty well. Bell was able to sleep better with little to no disturbances.

Once the rest of the team dispersed, leaving only Mason and Woods, Hudson, Rei and Adler, she stomped towards Adler's table, slamming it hard.

"A day's delay wouldn't have killed you Russ! I don't even know what to do with you!"

"Good to see you too, Rei." Adler rolled his eyes. Pulling out a cigarette to light, Rei got irritated even more at him.

"Look, my whole job revolves around risks, but the mission was a succ-"

"I don't care about the damned mission, Adler! I'm not Hudson!"

"The hell did I do?!" Hudson shouted from the corner.

Rei was completely red. Her eyes started getting watery. This was obviously noticed by Adler. He swallowed his retort, knowing that whatever he might say next will ruin the situation.

"Okay okay, lovebirds. This fight ain't gonna get you two anywhere." Woods butted in, his arm around Rei's shoulder. "Say, how about we all go for a drink?" Mason's face lit up like a 100w bulb. Rei smiled lightly at Woods, nodding her head. Adler just shrugged.

"Not me. I'm too occupied for that." Hudson declared, earning a groan from Woods.

"Alright let's go!" Woods announced, pulling Rei with him.

"Those two will never change." Mason chuckled. Adler nodded, smiling lightly.

Rei was a female version of Woods. Loud, boisterous, and hyperactive- they clicked instantly. Together they would annoy the living hell out of Adler and Mason.

-

Just a few shots and Rei was already down. Frank and her almost got kicked out because they both decided to pick on a random man. He kept flicking the man's forehead, while she squirted water at him. Mason and Adler somehow managed to get the troublesome duo out of the situation.

Later they started picking on Mason. The poor man couldn't even get out of the situation without giving in to their crazy demand to go and dance on the stage.

Rei kept snuggling into Adler's neck, poking his cheek every once in a while. The whole time she just kept staring at Adler. His dirty blonde hair, the facial scars, the little wrinkles that added more charm to his alluring face. Adler didn't seem to mind her gazing. He just wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her so that she doesn't fall of the chair. And also so that she doesn't hop away into the crowd.

Frank was busy repeating his tales of bravery over and over, while Mason just sulked about his embarrassment. Once Adler noticed Rei dozing off, he decided it was time to leave. "Alright. I better take her away before she completely passes out." Woods earned a smack on his head from Adler, because he kept whistling and shouting "Fucking shag each other and get back already."

Getting her into a car was an absolute headache, but entertaining too. Rei thought she was flying, keeping her from falling was a huge task, especially with those ridiculous heels of hers. She kept jumping around. Adler's soul almost left his body when she jumped down the stairs. Miraculously, she ended up on her feet, perfectly fine.

Once in the car, she dozed off immediately. Being a heavy sleeper, it was difficult to wake her up when they arrived at Adler's apartment. Giving up, he pulled her out of the car and carried her.

Once they reached the room, Adler gently put Rei on his bed. Caressing her cheek lightly, he placed a small kiss on her forehead.

"Don't go." Rei's tiredly looked at Adler, clutching onto his jacket.

"But...are you sure?"

"1594%. Now come." She forcefully pulled Adler to bed. She turned away from him, pressing her back to his chest. Putting a blanket on them, Adler held Rei close to him. She held his hand, her thumb lightly caressing his fingers, before she slept off.  For the first time in several weeks, they had their first peaceful sleep together.

-

Waking up in the morning, Rei looked around at her strange settings. And there he was, Adler, holding her lightly. Before she could even process anything, bile started rising to her throat. In less than one second, she was already in the bathroom, throwing up her dinner from last night. She could hear the ruffling of sheets and footsteps.

"You okay?" Adler stood by the doorframe, looking at Rei worriedly.

"Russ don't come in here, its disgus-" before she could finish her sentence, you turned away to vomit. Adler pulled her hair back, gently rubbing her back.

"I'm never drinking again." Rei got up, holding Adler's arm for support. Adler ruffled her hair lightly.

"That's what you said last time." He smirked. Rei let out an airy laugh, washing her mouth.

"Freshen up. I'll make some eggs." Adler walked towards the door.

"Scrambled, please?" Adler smiled at her. She's always loved eggs and Adler is great at it. Not just with eggs, but with the whole art of conjuring food with his magical hands. Rei always wondered why he joined the CIA instead of using his brilliant cooking skills. He'd have made a great chef.

Walking out of the bathroom, Rei put on one of Adler's old sweaters. Her clothes were unfortunately covered in vomit and sweat. 'I'll have to stop at the apartment before going to the safehouse.'

The smell of eggs and bacon filled the house making Rei’s stomach grumble.

"Mhmm... I missed your cooking." Rei said, stuffing the eggs in her mouth. She was famished.

"And I missed your eating sounds." Adler chuckled.

Rei looked at Adler, initially annoyed, but it soon melted into an affectionate expression. With a hand on his cheek, tracing his scars, she kissed him, softly. Adler tilted his head lightly, deepening the kiss. Placing his forehead against hers, he whispered "I missed you."

Rei nodded lightly, giving out a 'mhmm'.

A big smile danced on Rei's lips as she stared into Adler's eyes.  She once again pulled Adler into kiss, a rough and hungry one this time. Sloppy and messy with lots of biting from Rei (she's a biter), Adler pulled her up. He lifted her with ease, her legs around his waist. Oh how they both missed the intimacy.

Little did the two lovebirds know that things were just going to get more complicated.

Taglist:

@sophtheunlikelybakeryfestival

@pookolokon

@quizzyisdone

@nikkibell1937

[iwanttobeyourwonderwoman]

I can barely breathe when you are near.

I’m just gonna say I totally loved the show. Mad love. 

And in case you haven’t figure it out yet, or watched the show to get it, I’m talking about Ginny and Georgia. 

So many important topics touched on so many feelings and oh so many love triangles.

So join me as i dissect the whole show hehe .

Alright basic plot-

Young single mom Georgia and her teenage daughter Ginny, and younger son Austin, are always on the road and have now moved across the country to the small town of Wellsbury, Massachusetts from Texas, where they encounter a whole load of quirky characters. Ginny, who never had friends, slowly starts fitting in with the popular sophomores, mainly her neighbour Maxine, who also has a twin brother Marcus while Georgia befriends their mother Ellen. The series follows their attempts and struggles of fitting in with the town, all while developing their own love triangles (square in Georgia’s case). And the best part is, the unfolding of Georgia’s dark past filled with teen mom struggles and a little bit of murder mystery as to how she has gotten to where she is now. 

Teen mom and daughter combo again? Been there done that!

Well yes, as everyone compares it to Gilmore Girls (my personal favourite show ever) here are some similarities and differences as well as other show references.

*SPOILERS!!

It does explore that close relationship that Ginny and Georgia have, but obviously the kind of bond that Rory and Lorelai had were a lot stronger and had their own personal quirks and wit. There were often rifts in G&G’s relationship caused by the secrets of Georgia’s past as well as Ginny feeling inferior to her own mother in terms of looks and her ability to be a chameleon to fit in anywhere. Rory was more focused on her grades and was comfortable just having her few friends. Ginny on the other hand wanted to be liked and wanted to fit in with her school friends and eventually becomes part of MANG and the boys. And in the case of the mothers, Lorelai focused on raising Rory and worked her way up to eventually owning her own Inn while Georgia snuck and tiptoed her way around swindling money wherever she could but all in the best intentions of her kids more than herself, desperate to give her kids the life she never had. 

Also in a way I feel like this is also similar to Jane the Virgin except of course Jane’s character is older, but if you take the standpoint of the mother-daughter relationship and love triangle(Jane/Rafael/Michael) as well as a little psychotic Murder mystery Petra vibes.

, I feel like G&G is a good mix of Gilmore and JTV.

When it comes to love interests, Ginny was stuck between boyfriend Hunter and neighbour Marcus. Sweet, innocent Hunter (my favourite character in the whole series because if you know me you’d know I’m a hopeless romantic) was pretty much Dean to Rory, while cool skater and stoner guy Marcus was Jess. And honestly I see a similar trend here where most people are Team Jess/Marcus whereas I’m team Dean/Hunter for the main fact that Dean and Hunter both treated the girls really good and I like that. 

Georgia, as I mentioned was more of in a love square than a triangle, because why the hell not right? There’s Joe, the owner of the cafe where everyone spends most of their time, then there’s Mayor Paul, who Georgia pushes her way to work for to get on his good side. And then of course, Zion, Ginny’s father. Sounds a lot like Luke, Jason and Christopher doesn’t it. I love that Joe had a more interesting and different story, where it was depicted in the flashback scene where homeless young Georgia, just found out she was pregnant at a gas station and comes out to a crowd of high schoolers, which is when she meets Joe. She says to him  “I’ll look you up if I’m ever in Wellsbury” Joe was already attracted to her as a teenager and doesn’t realise it’s the same Georgia he met years ago till the last episode whereas Georgia has known all this while. I don’t know about you but I feel like now Georgia has the funds to move to somewhere she aspired to be, where she knows her kids will get the best and where she received “a sandwich and a pair of raybans that changed my life” Also let me just add that Raymond Ablack (Joe) is INCREDIBLY HOT.

Moving on to Paul, Georgia is attracted to him but there is that underlying greed because Paul can provide her stability and security and power. And that is when she will finally feel like she has achieved wheat she needs to. Towards the end, she almost chooses Zion because of her deep affection for him as ‘her penguin’ as she refers to him as. Being with Zion also means she can let her guard down and relax a little, and obviously is a great father to Ginny and even Austin who isn’t even his biologically. Which also makes both guys equally good contenders for Georgia. 

Another thing I love about the show is MANG. Their friendship is real, it’s not just Abby and Norah accepting Ginny because of Max. Yes Abby did throw her under the bus in the beginning but they soon became really close and never singled her out after the shoplifting incident. It wasn’t a whole case of Regina George and the plastics all over again. They didn’t care that she was different. 

So I feel like Abby is a very interesting character also. I read that her character was created based on a friend of the writer. So abby puts up a very strong front when actually she is feeling quite distraught from her parents ongoing divorce as well as her own issues with body image. Abby is very petite but still is not satisfied with her body so she tapes her thighs to make them look smaller and wear tight jeans so that she can look slimmer. I the Halloween episode, Press even calls her “whale legs” and she obviously gets upset and you can see it affects her because she’s striving for such a perfect image all the time but also I feel like she has a thing for Press so that really messes her up. You can also see she does get a little jealous of Ginny and Max’s friendship but that’s mainly because she feels lonely and unheard and she ends off being estranged from Norah and Max feeling like her whole world crumbled. I really hope MANG gets to patch up. They were the ideal friend group along with the guys.

“Oppression Olympics, let’s go.”

I don’t know guys, this line really stood out to me.

Basically this is the scene in episode 8 where Ginny and Hunter argue about racism and why Ginny deserved to win that writing contest with her unique style (girl used slam poetry for goodness sake that essay was amazing!!??) But Hunter won and he is clearly the favourite of their teacher. He talks about how he is half Taiwanese and the Asian stereotypes he faces here as well as the White remarks he gets from the Asian side of his family. Ginny too says she can’t fit in because she is half Black and how this town had a very small black population and people are not sure how to look at her. I feel like touching on these topics of race was really vital to not only the show but to the actors as well. From the bts, I read that Antonia (Ginny) and Mason (Hunter) were in a room with the writer and jus spoke about the kind of remarks they have personally faced which helped develop the argument scene because it was so real and raw and quite upsetting to watch. It’s something very relatable to the audience which also just amplified that whole episode overall. 

I mentioned earlier my favourite character is Hunter. I admit I have a major crush on both the actor and the fictional character. Ok so I think Hunter was a great character, a very good boyfriend too, I mean look at the way he cared for Ginny, supported her, just that unfortunately she was more attracted to Marcus in the end but also that ugly oppression olympics fight just gave his character more depth to show that Hunter wasn’t as perfect as he seemed. I think girls watching the show deserved to see what a good guy looked like. He was smart, in a band, a very caring boyfriend, popular but not cocky. If you compare to let’s say the character if Peter Kavinsky, I think Hunter made a better boyfriend. DO i also think Kavinsky is a damn dream boat? Of course I do. but then again, I thought John Ambrose was a much better guy in the TATB series. Kavinsky was originally dating another girl before the whole fake couple thing started. Whereas going back to Hunter, he already admired Ginny from the first episode and stayed truly respectful until the end of the show. And that’s something girls should see and aspire to have.

Yes I loved the song I loved the fact that he sang it for her, I am such a hopeless romantic and I absolutely hate that poor Hunter/Mason has been getting a lot of backlash for the song/character. I’ve rewatched a lot of the Hunter/Ginny scenes multiple times just because. Hunter was a good guy. Period. 

So looking forward, I think a lot of important topics were touched in this show, slightly different from let’s say 13 Reasons Why, and I hope that they can continue to delve into those stories such as racism,self harm, body image and so on which really hit home for me. Important discussion topics, important for kids to see like oh hey this character is kinda like me, and if they are facing these issues, how can they get through it?

Also I need answers to all my questions - Where did Ginny go? How does Georgia get away with everything? Will MANG get back together? Does Abby have a deeper story to tell? Do Marcus and Ginny end up together? AND WHAT ABOUT MY POOR BBY HUNTER??? Lots of unanswered questions, lots of stories to dig deeper into, and so many secrets. I loved the mother l-daughter relationship, the same way I loved Lorelai and Rory’s relationship too.

I obviously totally enjoyed the show, I’ve recommended it to many friends and I hope they enjoy it as much as I do, and get more people on my Hunter Chen bandwagon hahahaha! Let’s hope for a season 2!!

Another super long post, finally done. I can move on to watching other shows now (and still constantly wish I too had cool stuff like Sophomore sleepover)

Hate you, kidding! Love you, mean it!

(just gonna leave these here because why not????)

[jazy3]

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 17X16

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

I really liked this episode! I loved the scenes between Meredith and Bailey and Meredith with her kids. So precious! I think Meredith is the perfect person to take over the residency program now that Richard has too many jobs as Bailey says! I think she is really going to shine in this new role. In the past I thought her and Alex might wind up running the hospital with him as Chief of Surgery and her as Residency Director. While that won't happen because Justin Chambers' exit, I think it will be great to see Meredith step up and take on the role. Ultimately, I want to see her operate again and be a badass, but since she’s still recovering, I think having Meredith take this on while she recovers from COVID is a great idea.  

I’m glad that we got to see Maggie and Winston disagree on something and work through it in this episode. While I think Winston did overreact a bit when Maggie was upset and a bit reluctant about the wedding planning and said that everything felt like a compromise I'm glad that they showed the two of them disagreeing and working through it because up until now they've been portrayed as the perfect couple. I loved the scene where Maggie and Winston talked about the wedding and then it was revealed that Maggie had arranged for her Dad and Winston’s Grandmother to fly in for the wedding. That was very sweet and they got the actor that previously played her Dad back!

I also really liked the patient that Maggie, Helm, and Richard treated. I felt so bad for her when she told them that her husband had died and her dog had ran away and that she wasn’t good with people. I suspected she was pretending early on because of her loneliness. I was so sad about the missing dog for the whole episode and I was ecstatic when they found him! I’m more of a cat than a dog person, but pets are family. I am also glad that we got to learn more about Helm in this episode and that she appears to have left her Meredith obsession behind. That was funny the first few times they brought it up, but then it just got weird and annoying.

Especially after both CeCe the matchmaker and Carina talked to Helm about it and told her she needed to move on and find someone that could love her back and then she went right back to being obsessed with her. That’s been her whole personality for the past three seasons. Now in this episode we learn that she likes to cook, that she makes a mess when she cooks, and that she likes to watch the news. I think Helm moving in with Levi and Jo is a good thing, but he definitely should have cleared it with Jo first and they for sure need a bigger place.

I really liked the scene with Link and Jo. I like that he called her out on the fact that she obviously wanted to adopt Luna and told her she should stop doubting herself. I was surprised and disappointed that Jo’s adoption application was denied. She's clearly formed a bond with Luna and she was ready to have kids with Alex prior to his departure and she was close to Val prior to her death. I’m curious as to why her application was denied and why she failed the background check. I hope we get a follow up to that because she would be a great Mom to Luna and I want to know what happened there.

When we found that out my first thought was, “That’s illegal!” because here in Canada and in Ontario specifically to the best of my knowledge you can’t discriminate against someone and reject their adoption or foster application because they are a single parent, have had mental health issues in the past, stole a car while homeless or lived under an assumed name while fleeing domestic violence provided they meet the other criteria such as being able to provide a safe loving home and can prove that they are financially stable and have a good support network in place.

I was confused as first, but then my friend Amy and I were talking about it and I realized that I was applying my own context to another situation. Having the right to adopt and not be discriminated against is something that the women’s, gay rights, and disability rights movements here in Canada have fought very hard for. A lot of changes were enacted in the 2000’s and 2010’s to make it easier for people from all walks of life to adopt and foster. In fact, in many cases social services will look for prospective parents who share a child’s background or history because they will be able to relate to the child in a way that a parent without that experience might not be able to.

That’s not to say that everything is perfect and that discrimination and unfair treatment doesn’t happen. It does. People can be sneaky about it. But you do have recourse here. You would be able to contest the discrimination. I’m not familiar with adoption laws and policies for Washington State where the show is set so it’s possible that this kind of discrimination may still be legal there or there may not be specific policies addressing it. If anyone does know I would love to know more as what I’m saying is based on the experiences of people that I know here in Ontario. I do think that Jo will eventually get custody of Luna. They've spent a bunch of time setting this up and dropping hints about this storyline so it would feel hollow to have it end like this. It would also put Jo back in a dark place which she just got out of for the umpteenth time.

I’m interested to see where they go with Amelia and Link’s storyline around him wanting more children and Amelia not wanting anymore. Couples getting together and then realizing at a later point that they feel differently about having children or having more children in this case is a real thing that happens. Amelia and Link started off as casual sex partners which progressed into something more serious when Amelia found out she was pregnant. They've become this beautiful family and it turns out they are a great match, but because they didn't start out with marriage and kids in mind there are bridges that they have to cross at some point. I'm glad that Link is voicing his desire to have more kids down the road now so that they can talk about it.

I totally get why Amelia doesn't want more kids. After what happened with Christopher and Ryan and then Owen, Betty, and Leo and then with Meredith's kids I get why Amelia doesn't want more children. It's a lot of work, she's been through a lot, and getting overwhelmed could impact her sobriety. Link is a good guy and way more sensitive around this topic that Owen ever was so my hope is that they'll talk it out, Amelia will share her concerns, Link will understand, and he'll fulfill that need for more kids by spending more time with Leo or Meredith's kids.

Also real talk, Owen was an absolute asshole to Cristina and Amelia when they didn’t want kids and straight up said that there was something wrong with them because they didn’t want to be with something who treated them poorly and kept trying to force them to have kids that they didn’t want. While it’s great that he gets it now and was able to offer some words of wisdom to Amelia in this episode and be supportive it doesn’t make up for or change the fact that he was god awful to both of his ex-wives because they didn’t want kids and he did. He knew Cristina didn’t want kids long before they got married and he married Amelia without ever talking about his desire to have children and just assumed she wanted that too.

He should really call Cristina and apologize because what the hell? I think it’s the difference between perception and experience. Before when he wanted kids but didn’t have any he was in love the idea and couldn’t understand someone not wanting that. Now that he has two kids he realizes how much work that is and why someone might not want that especially if they are dealing with other issues that could be impacted by having more children. I really enjoyed the patient storylines this week. I had previously read a study about what Amelia is working on and how doctors and scientists have now determined that there are two types of patients who appear brain dead. 

The kind that actually are where their body is still alive but no one’s home and the kind we see in this episode where their body is still alive and they are still in there, but can’t communicate in traditional ways, but can communicate through thinking about different things to answer yes or no questions. There is a special kind of machine that is needed to scan for this and they are expensive but they’ve proven that hospitals make the costs back within a year because the machines allow them to determine which patients are actually brain dead and which can still make decisions and answer questions about their care.

Something I didn’t like about this episode was that Levi chose Nico over Dr. Mason Post the hot Vaccine Doctor. I was really rooting for them to get together and for him to start something new with someone who might actually treat him well and I was so freaking disappointed wand pissed off when Levi showed up at Nico’s place and got back together with him instead of going over to Mason’s. I’m Team Mason all the way! He's a gem. He's attractive, funny, smart, direct, and kind. He's everything Levi deserves in a partner after the nonsense Nico has put him through.

I liked Nico and Levi when they first got together, but after Nico revealed that he lied about being out to his parents their relationship went downhill fast. He's treated Levi like crap ever since and his one-time apology doesn't fix that or do anything to address the way he's acted or fix his and Levi's relationship problems. I hope Mason returns next season, Levi winds up with him, and Nico goes off to work for the Mariners as he was supposed to originally.

My only other complaint is that Meredith and Hayes didn't have any scenes together this week, but it looks like they'll have scenes in the finale so I'm happy about that. My favourite moment of the episode was when Amelia told Owen that Tom had moved to Boston to help Jackson with the changes he wanted to make and Owen thinking that he had been fired said that he hated that there was one more thing he had to like and respect about the guy. I'm not an Owen fan in general, but that line cracked me up! I’m really looking forward to the finale! I’m excited that based on next week’s promo Meredith and Hayes will have scenes together and hopefully we’ll be getting some movement on the world's slowest moving slow burn storyline!

I swear to god glaciers move faster! People have gotten engaged, broken up, gotten back together, and moved to Boston in the time that Meredith was on that beach while Hayes worried about her from afar. So, I'm excited for that. I'm also excited for Maggie and Winston's wedding and to know why her Dad and his Grandmother are objecting. I hope to see Jo adopt Luna and I'd love to see some father-daughter scenes with Richard and Meredith.

Until next time!

[dustedmagazine]

Dusted Mid-Year Round-Up: Part 2, Dr. Pete Larson to  Young Slo-Be

James Brandon Lewis

The mid-year exchange continues with the second half of the alphabet and another round of Dusted writers reviewing other people’s favorite records.  Today’s selection runs the gamut from Afro-beat to hip hop to experimental music and includes some of this year’s best jazz records.  Check out part one if you missed it yesterday.  

Dr. Pete Larson and His Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band — Damballah (Dagoretti Records)

Damballah by Dr. Pete Larson and his Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band

Who Picked it? Mason Jones

Did we review it? No, but Jennifer Kelly said about his previous record, “It’s authentic not to some musicological conception of what nyatiti music should sound like, but to the instincts and proclivities of the musicians involved.”

Bryon Hayes’ take:

Judging from Jenny’s review, Dr. Pete Larson hasn’t really changed his modus operandi much since last year’s self-titled release. Well, he has appeared to have dropped vocalist Kat Steih and drummer Tom Hohman, who aren’t credited with an appearance on Damballah. Sonically, this album feels more polished than its predecessor. There’s a richness that was lacking before, a sense of clarity that Larson seems to have added here. He still hypnotizes with his nyatiti but doesn’t lose himself behind the other players. That sense of mesmerizing repetition of short passages on the resonant lute-like instrument is what sets the music of the Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band apart from other rock groups who play in the psychedelic vein. It’s easy to get lost in the intricate plucking patterns as the guitars and synths swirl about. The rhythms bounce cleverly against those created by the percussion, anchoring the songs to solid ground. Balancing the airy and the earthy, Dr. Peter Larson and His Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band create a cosmic commotion perfect for contemplation. 

 James Brandon Lewis / Red Lily Quintet — Jesup Wagon (TAO Forms)

Jesup Wagon by James Brandon Lewis / Red Lily Quintet

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Yes, Derek said, “’Fallen Flowers’ and ‘Seer’ contain sections of almost telepathic convergence, the former and the closing ‘Chemurgy’ culminating in Lewis’ spoken words inculcating the import of his subject.” 

Tim Clarke’s take:

Tenor saxophonist and composer James Brandon Lewis demonstrates his control of the instrument in the opening moments of Jesup Wagon’s title track. Before his Red Lily Quintet bandmates join the fray, he alternates between hushed ululations and full-blooded honks, inviting the listener to lean in conspiratorially. Once the rest of the band fire up, cornet player Kirk Knuffke, bassist William Parker, cellist Chris Hoffman and drummer Chad Taylor lock into a loose, muscular shuffle. Their collective chemistry is immediately evident, and each player has the opportunity to shine across this diverse set’s 50-minute runtime. I’m particularly drawn to the rapid-fire rhythmic runs on “Lowlands of Sorrow,” the gorgeous cello on “Arachis,” and the spacious, mbira-laced “Seer.” There’s something about the mournful horn melody of the final piece, “Chemurgy,” that sends me back to first hearing Ornette Coleman’s “Lonely Woman” — and, just like that, I’m excited about the prospect of exploring jazz again, for the first time in a long time. Great pick, Derek.

 Roscoe Mitchell & Mike Reed — The Ritual And The Dance (Astral Spirits) 

the Ritual and the Dance by Roscoe Mitchell & Mike Reed

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Yes, Derek wrote, “Roscoe Mitchell remains an improvisational force to be reckoned with.”

Andrew Forell’s take:

For 17-plus minutes, Roscoe Mitchell solos on his soprano with barely a pause, the rush of notes powered by circular breathing, as drummer Mike Reed’s controlled clatter counterpoints Mitchell’s exploration of his instrument’s range and tonal qualities in what sounds like a summation of his long career at the outer edge of jazz. It‘s an extraordinary beginning to this performance, recorded live in 2015. On first listen it sounds chaotic, but shapes emerge in Mitchell’s sound, and Reed’s combination of density and silence complements, punctuates and supports in equal measure. After an incisive solo workout from Reed combining clanging metal and rolling toms, Mitchell swaps to tenor and the pace changes. Longer, slower notes, a rougher, reed heavy tone and a lighter touch from Reed. Having not closely followed Mitchell’s work since his days in The Art Ensemble Of Chicago, this performance was a revelation and will have me searching back through his catalog.     

The Notwist — Vertigo Days (Morr Music)

Vertigo Days by The Notwist

Who recommended it? Tim Clarke

Did we review it?  Yes, Tim said, “The Notwist really know how to structure a front-to-back listening experience, and this is emphatically a work of art best appreciated as a whole.”

Arthur Krumins’ take: 

In his review of Vertigo Days, Tim Clarke highlights the “multiple layers of drifting, shifting instrumentation.” It is an album that seems unbound by adherence to a set instrument lineup, and it moves quickly between moods both frenetic and contemplative. However, due to a careful mixing and an unforced approach to genre expectations, it is a surprising and varied listen that bears repeated scrutiny. The touchstones of the sound are at times the motorik beat of krautrock, at others the ethereal indie pop of their melodies and the quality of their singing. It feels like the perfect quirky coffee shop album, just out there enough to create a vibe, but tactful enough to take you along for the ride.

  Dorothea Paas — Anything Can’t Happen (Telephone Explosion)

Anything Can't Happen by Dorothea Paas

Who picked it? Arthur Krumins.

Did we review it? No. 

Eric McDowell’s take:

In one sense, it’s fair to say that Dorothea Paas’s debut album opens with a false start: A single note sounded and then retreated from, fingers sliding up and down the fretboard with the diffidence of a throat clearing. Yet what gesture could more perfectly introduce an album so marked by uncertainty, vulnerability, and naked self-assessment? 

If Anything Can’t Happen is an open wound, it’s a wound Paas willingly opens: “I’m not lonely now / Doing all the things I want to and working on my mind / Sorting through old thoughts.” That doesn’t make the pain any less real — though it does make it more complex. “It’s so hard to trust again / When you can’t even trust yourself,” Paas sings on the utterly compelling title track, her gaze aiming both inward and outward. Elsewhere she admits: “I long for a body closer to mine / But I don’t want to seek, I just want to find.” Instrumentally, Paas and her bandmates manage to temper an inclination toward static brooding with propulsive forward motion, a balance that suits the difficult truth — or better yet, difficult truce — the album arrives at in the climactic “Frozen Window”: “How can I open to love again, like a plant searches for light through a frozen window? / Can I be loved, or is it all about control? / I will never know until I start again.” In the spirit of starting again, Anything Can’t Happen ends with a doubling down on the opening prelude, reprising and extending it — no false start to be found. 

 Dominic Pifarely Quartet — Nocturnes (Clean Feed) 

Nocturnes by Dominique Pifarély Quartet

Who recommended it? Jason Bivins

Did we review it? No 

Derek Taylor’s take: 

Pifarely and I actually go way back in my listening life, specifically to Acoustic Quartet, an album the French violinist made for ECM as a co-leader with countryman clarinetist Louis Sclavis in 1994. Thirty-something at the time, his vehicle for that venture was an improvising chamber ensemble merging classical instrumentation and extended techniques with jazz and folk derived influences. The results, playful and often exhilaratingly acrobatic, benefited greatly from austere ECM house acoustics. Nearly three decades distant, Nocturnes is a different creature, delicate and darker hued in plumage and less enamored of melody, harmony and rhythm, at least along conventional measures. Drones and other textures are regular elements of the interplay between the leader’s strings, the piano of Antonin Rayon and the sparse braiding and shadings of bassist Bruno Chevillon and drummer Francois Merville. Duos also determine direction, particular on the series of titular miniatures that are as much about space as they are centered in sound. It’s delightful to get reacquainted after so much time apart.  

The Reds Pinks & Purples — Uncommon Weather (Slumberland/Tough Love)

Uncommon Weather by The Reds, Pinks & Purples

Who picked it? Jennifer Kelly

Did we review it? Yes, Jennifer said, “Uncommon Weather is undoubtedly the best of the Reds, Pinks & Purples discs so far, an album that is damned near perfect without seeming to try very hard.”   

Bill Meyer’s take:

Sometimes a record hits you where you live. Glenn Donaldson’s too polite to do you any harm, but he not only knows where you live, he knows your twin homes away from home, the record store and the club where you measure your night by how many bands’ sets separate you from last call. He knows the gushing merch-table mooches and the old crushes that casually bring the regulars down, and he also knows how to make records just like the ones that these folks have been listening to since they started making dubious choices. Uncommon Weather sounds like a deeply skilled recreation of early, less chops-heavy Bats, and if that description makes sense to you, so will this record.

 claire rousay — A Softer Focus (American Dreams Records)

a softer focus by Claire Rousay

Who picked it? Bryon Hayes  

Did we review it? Yes, Bryon Hayes wrote, “These field recordings of the mundane, when coupled with the radiance of the musical elements, are magical.”  

Ian Mathers’ take:  

In a weird way (because they are very different works from very different artists), A Softer Focus reminds me a bit of Robert Ashley’s Private Parts (The Album). Both feel like the products of deep focus and concentration but wear their rigor loosely, and both feel like beautifully futile attempts to capture or convey the rich messiness of human experience. But although there is a musicality to Private Parts, Ashley is almost obsessed by language and language acts, and even though the human voice is more present than ever in rousay’s work (not just sampled or field recorded, but outright albeit technologically smeared singing on a few tracks) it feels like it reaches to a place in that experience beyond words. The first few times I played it I had moments where I was no longer sure exactly what part of what I was hearing were coming from my speakers versus from outside my apartment, and as beautiful as the more conventional ambient/drone aspects of A Softer Focus are (including the cello and violin heard throughout), it’s that kind of intoxicating disorientation, of almost feeling like I’m experiencing someone else’s memory, that’s going to stay with me the longest. 

 M. Sage — The Wind Of Things (Geographic North)

The Wind of Things by M. Sage

Who recommended it? Bryon Hayes

Did we review it? No

Bill Meyer’s take:

Matthew Sage’s hybrid music gets labeled as ambient by default. Sure, it’s gentle enough to be ignorable, but Sage’s combination of ruminative acoustic playing (mostly piano and guitar, with occasional seasoning from reeds, violin, banjo, and percussion) and memory-laden field recordings feels so personal that it’s hard to believe he’d really be satisfied with anyone treating this stuff as background music. But that combination of the placid and the personal may also be The Wind of Things’ undoing since it’s a bit too airy and undemonstrative to make an impression.

 Skee Mask — Pool (Ilian Tape)

ITLP09 Skee Mask - Pool by Skee Mask

Who picked it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? No 

Robert Ham’s take:

Pool is an appropriate title for the new album by Munich electronic artist Bryan Müller. The record is huge and deep, with its 18 tracks clocking in at around 103 minutes. And Müller has pointedly only released the digital version of Pool through Bandcamp, adding it a little hurdle to fans who just want to pick and choose from its wares for their playlists. Dipping one’s toes in is an option, but the only way to truly appreciate the full effect is to dive on in. 

Though Müller filled Pool up with around five years’ worth of material, the album plays like the result of great deliberation. It flows with the thoughtfulness and intention of an adventurous DJ set, with furious breakbeat explosions like “Breathing Method” making way for the languorous ambient track “Ozone” and the unbound “Rio Dub.” Then, without warning, the drum ‘n’ bass breaks kick in for a while. 

The full album delights in those quick shifts into new genres or wild seemingly disparate sonic connections happening within the span of a single song. But again, these decisions don’t sound like they were made carelessly. Müller took some time with this one to get the track list just right. But if there is one thread that runs along the entirety of Pool, it is the air of joy that cuts through even its downcast moments. The splashing playfulness is refreshing and inviting.

 Speaker Music — Soul-Making Theodicy (Planet Mu)

Soul-Making Theodicy by Speaker Music

Who picked it? Mason Jones

Did we review it? No 

Robert Ham’s take:

The process by which DeForrest Brown Jr., the artist known as Speaker Music, created his latest EP sounds almost as exciting as the finished music. If I understand it correctly — and I’m not entirely sure that I do — he created rhythm tracks using haptic synths, a Push sequencer, and a MIDI keyboard, that he sent through Ableton and performed essentially a live set of abstract beats informed by free jazz, trap and marching band. Or as Brown calls them “stereophonic paintings.” 

Whatever term you care to apply to these tracks and however they were made, the experience of listening to them is a dizzying one. A cosmic high that takes over the synapses and vibrates them until your vision becomes blurry and your word starts to smear together like fog on a windshield. Listening to this EP on headphones makes the experience more vertiginous if, like I did, you try to unearth the details and sounds buried within the centerpiece track “Rhythmatic Music For Speakers,” a 33-minute symphony of footwork stuttering and polyrhythms. Is that the sound of an audience responding to this sensory overload that I hear underneath it all? Or is that wishful imaginings coming from a mind hungry for the live music experience? 

 The Telescopes — Songs of Love And Revolution (Tapete) 

Songs Of Love And Revolution by the telescopes

Who recommended it? Robert Ham

Did we review it? No. 

Andrew Forell’s take:

Songs Of Love And Revolution glides along on murky subterranean rhythms that evoke Mo Tucker’s heartbeat toms backed with thick bowel-shaking bass lines. Somewhere in the murk Stephen Lawrie’s murmured vocals barely surface as he wrings squalls of noise from his guitar to create a dissonant turmoil to contrast the familiarity of what lies beneath. The effect is at once hypnotic and joltingly thrilling, similar to hearing Jesus And Mary Chain for the first time but played a at pace closer to Bedhead. A kind of slowcore shoegaze, its mystery enhanced by what seems deliberately monochrome production that forces and rewards close attention. When they really let go on “We See Magic And We Are Neutral, Unnecessary” it hits like The Birthday Party wrestling The Stooges. So yeah, pretty damn good.

 Leon Vynehall — Rare, Forever (Ninja Tune)

Rare, Forever by LEON VYNEHALL

Who recommended it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? No. 

Jason Bivins’ take: 

I was amused to see Leon Vynehall’s album tucked into the expansive “Unknown genre” non-category. This is, as is often the case with these mid-year exchanges, a bit far afield from the kind of music I usually spin. Much of it is, I suppose, rooted in house music. Throughout these tracks, there are indeed some slinky beats that’ll get you nodding your head while prepping the dinner or while studying in earnest. There’s plenty to appreciate on the level of grooves and patterns, but he closer you listen, the more subversive, sneaky details you notice. The opening “Ecce! Ego!” isn’t quite as brash as the title would suggest, featuring some playfully morphed voices, old school synth patches and snatches of instrumentalism. But after just a couple minutes, vast cosmic sounds start careening around your brainpan while a metal bar drops somewhere in the audial space. Did that just happen? you wonder as the groove continues. Moments of curiosity and even discomfort are plopped down, sometimes as transitions (like the closing vocal announcement on “In>Pin” — “like a moth” — that introduces the echo-canyon of “Mothra”) but usually as head-scrambling curveballs. Startled voices or flutes or subterranean sax bubble up from beneath deep house thrum, then are gone in ways that are arresting and deceptive. I still don’t know what to make of the lounge-y closing to “Snakeskin – Has-Been” or the unexpected drone monolith of “Farewell! Magnus Gabbro.” In its way, Vynehall’s music is almost like what you’d get if Graham Lambkin or Jason Lescalleet made a house record. Pretty rich stuff.

 Michael Winter — single track (Another Timbre)

single track by Michael Winter

Who recommended it? Eric McDowell 

Did we review it? Not yet! 

Mason Jones’ take: 

Over its 45 minutes, Michael Winter’s 2015 composition slowly accelerates and accumulates, starting from an isolated violin playing slightly arrhythmic, single fast strokes. The playing, centered around a single root note, seems almost random, but flashes of melodic clusters make it clear they're not. After nine minutes other players have joined in and there's a developing drone, as things sort of devolve, with atonal combinations building. By the one-third mark everything has slowed down significantly, and the players are blending together, with fewer melodies standing out. Instead, it's almost more drone than not; and at a half hour in, most of the strings have been reduced to slowly changing tones. As we near the end we’re hearing beautiful layers of string drones, descending into the final few minutes of nearly static notes. It's an intriguing and oddly listenable composition given its atonality. The early moments bring to mind Michael Nyman, and the later movements summon thoughts of Tony Conrad and La Monte Young, but it's clearly different from any of them, and more than the sum of those parts.

 Young Slo-Be — Red Mamba (KoldGreedy Entertainment / Thizzler On The Roof)

Who picked it? Ray Garraty 

Did we review it? No. 

Ian Mathers’ take: 

The 12 tracks on Red Mamba fly by in a little over 27 minutes (not a one breaks the three-minute mark) but the result doesn’t feel slight so much as pared down to a sharpness you might cut yourself on. Stockon’s Young Slo-Be only seems to have one flow (or maybe it’d be more accurate to say he only seems interested in one) but he knows how to wield it with precision and force, and if the subject matter hews closely to the accepted canon of gangbanger concerns, Slo-Be delivers it all with vivid language and the studied, superior disdain of an older brother explaining the world to you and busting your chops at the same time. The tracks on Red Mamba all come from different producers, but Slo-Be consistently chooses spectral, eerie, foreboding backgrounds for these songs, even when adding piano and church bells (on “Asshole”), dog barks (“21 Thoughts”) or even Godfather-esque strings (the closing “Rico Swavo”). What’s the old line about the strength of street knowledge? These are different streets, and different knowledge.

[nothingunrealistic]

naturally was going "hmm what kind of fins (fish) would young taylor in the bathtub wish for. how would we know what they think would be the best fish tail to have" & then was just thinking of Younger Taylor Hcs just in general. got any you'd wanna share, or like, any faves from what's been provided either as unofficial ideas or via those glimpses of info in the show's text. Fave can be in a "truly enjoy this" way & or simply more of a "truly Thinking About This An Extra Lot" sense lol. They

Boy Do I… first, a listing of everything we Know from canon about their childhood / early life / family:

taylor grew up in “a place like” connerty’s small apartment where “the heat pipes bang practically all night” in the winter [2x11]

taylor’s mom would deem the apartment they rented for her & douglas too expensive, and if she & douglas were shopping for furniture, they’d argue about how much things cost [4x07]

taylor never thought they’d be thinking about living a life where they book private jets [2x09]

the masons’ home is hundreds of miles from any body of water (as shown here) and douglas had to fly to nyc to see taylor [4x03]

douglas figures taylor’s mom won’t miss him getting in her way back home [4x03]

taylor has a sister; when she gets married, in michigan, taylor is part of the wedding party [2x09]

at a young age, taylor was always measuring information around them, and sweet / affectionate, especially toward douglas [4x03]

taylor’s favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes [4x09]

taylor was never really douglas’s “little girl” like he claims [4x03]

the first time douglas brought taylor to his lab, it meant a lot to them, and the next day they gave him designs to remake it [4x06]

douglas taught taylor: “don’t just have an idea, build the model that proves it” [4x07]

according to douglas, taylor gets the “unyielding compulsion to get it right” from him, and their relationship was best when they “kept things mathematical” [4x03]

douglas wishes he could have built real wealth / success and given it all to taylor [4x03]

wendy mentions to taylor that douglas has “exploited your need for his approval,” and taylor agrees that douglas only cares about his own advancement rather than being a father first [4x07]

douglas dislikes the military / the government [4x06]

taylor is surprised by douglas quoting a pop song [4x07]

when taylor was younger, the bathtub was the only place they could go to be alone and think, and they’d press their legs against the sides hard enough to make them go numb [3x11]

taylor started playing online poker at age 12 under the screen name ZackCody892 and played up to 16 tables at a time (and for thousands of hours) [2x03]

douglas was fired from his job at an aerospace firm when taylor was in 7th grade. this firing damaged their relationship with him and “affected the home life.” for years, taylor thought douglas had been fired so that the firm could steal his invention, and only found out the truth from his personnel file [2x11, 4x05, 4x06]

taylor has had 927 hours of therapy prior to their session with dr. gus, and that number hasn’t changed at their first session with wendy [2x03, 2x08]

douglas, in bringing taylor food and coffee, claims they rarely take the time to look after themself [4x04]

taylor used to lie to themself and others but is now past that, and knows “how hard it is to have things inside you that you can’t communicate” and “what it’s like to face public scrutiny over who you are” [2x08, 3x02, 4x04]

when taylor reminds douglas about their pronouns, he says “this talk again?”, implying it’s a discussion they’ve had before [4x03]

taylor once got into a bar fight with a high school classmate (it’s unclear whether they were still in high school at the time) after seeing y tu mamá también in a theater [5x07]

taylor was active in occupy wall street in college [2x10]

taylor played poker in college against classmates, grad students, & professors, but their opponents kicked them out for winning too much; additionally, the competitive aspect made them sick (described as “malaise” or “vertigo-like symptoms”) [2x03, 4x12]

taylor planned to go to chicago for grad school and study with eugene fama [2x02]

mafee picked taylor as his intern because they were the only applicant who wasn’t boring / didn’t care about the same bullshit that everyone from wharton or harvard did [5x04]

douglas initiated the visit to taylor, claiming it was because he’d missed them, after not being ready to see them even though taylor’s mother wanted to visit countless times [4x03, 4x07]

taylor is trying to be “everything to their father” in funding his company, and neither of them will be able to come back from taylor being forced to betray him [4x06, 4x07]

wow that’s a long list. and now, my own thoughts and extrapolations:

taylor grew up somewhere in the west / midwest with their parents and sister, who’s a few years older than them, in a house small enough that they had to share a bedroom with her. hence, needing to hide out in the bathtub to get any space & time alone.

from very early on, taylor was douglas’s favorite child and he was their favorite parent — douglas saw taylor’s intelligence & insight (and saw himself in them) and chose to put time & effort into teaching / guiding / molding them, hoping they’d one day follow in his footsteps / support his ambitions, and taylor liked that attention & recognition. (douglas’s attitude toward taylor’s sister is essentially “well she’s here too i guess.”)

douglas taught taylor enough about aerospace engineering & mathematics for them to understand the value of his lattice fin concept, and to generally have a better grasp of engineering concepts than your average (even very well-read) business major / financier. (remember how rebecca knew a robot’s “proprietary” power source was a combustion engine because her father was a mechanic? same deal here. see also: the “smash electronics apart to find the microchips inside and figure out who makes them” strategy; taylor comparing losing grigor’s money to building a turbo engine and having the nitrous tank blow up in their face.) this manifested in both directly teaching them in his lab and in playing games like the silverware-stacking game we see in 4x03, or like douglas throwing out math problems for taylor to solve on the spot, or the two of them solving math problems together.

douglas also imparted his taste in music (which does not include anything new / popular) to taylor, though their taste as an adult (or even as, like, a teenager) isn’t identical to his. this is how they discovered rush in the first place and why they have such strong opinions about The Best Rush Albums. (if douglas had such a ranking, it’d be closer to axe’s than to taylor’s.)

listening to rush helped make taylor a libertarian 😔 that’s just life when you’re a neil peart stan, which of course they are. they admire his lyrics + his drumming talent + his absolute poker face in performances.

douglas also taught taylor to play blackjack, which inspired them to go and learn poker on their own and start playing online. they tried to keep it a secret, but it's hard to be secretive about spending hours a day playing online poker on the family computer. (this is 2006 or so, after all.)

taylor figured out that they were Not A Girl (or at least had thoughts of “hm i don’t enjoy being addressed / perceived as A Girl”) fairly young but didn’t acquire a concrete vocabulary for / specific understanding of that for some time. (if douglas is calling they/them pronouns “that woke stuff” in 2019, he sure wasn’t saying anything clear or favorable about trans people in 2009 or 1999. ditto for online poker sites.)

douglas’s firing exacerbated every negative aspect of the mason family dynamic. he doubled down on pushing taylor toward his field, urging them to succeed where he’d failed, and warning them against letting anyone Steal Their Value. money got tighter, taylor’s parents argued more, and any activities taylor was in (like, say, swimming at the ymca) that required payment got cut; they may have figured out how to make money (illegally!) from online poker at this point. the combined stress of financial instability, being torn between pursuing their own ambitions and fulfilling douglas’s expectations for them, and increasing Gendered Expectations in general — plus the whole “playing online poker for hours a day” thing — probably put taylor in therapy within a few months, if they weren’t in therapy already. (how did their parents pay for it? i don’t know either.)

stealing this from that interview asia & brian & david did in 2017: if taylor had not already taught themself to think and speak directly & incisively and look people in the eye when they talk, et cetera, it started here, whether in therapy or on their own time.

taylor went to college in new york city. douglas did not want them to do this, for a number of reasons, and would have preferred they stick closer to home (and study something other than finance), but doing so would have made them miserable.

by the time they finished high school (circa 2012), taylor had properly heard of trans people and figured that they were somehow One Of Them, but not until college did they hear of people being nonbinary and go “ohhhh yeah that’s me.” (they’d also gotten a Short Haircut in high school, but didn’t go full buzzcut until college. unsurprisingly, they got some shit in high school for being Visibly gnc.)

for some period of time while figuring out their gender situation, taylor went by the name neil as a nod to neil peart. (it’s fun to imagine that they still have a faceless twitter / tumblr account where they go by neil. doubles as a way to prevent anyone connecting it to their real life.)

taylor came out to their family while in college. their mom and sister had fairly similar reactions of “well i don’t Get this exactly, but i love you and want to support you and i’m sure you know what you're talking about better than i do and you did clearly hate it every time i urged you to conform to Standards Of Womanhood so sure i can call you Them and my [child / sibling] :)” given some time to think about it. douglas… well. if he’s starting from a place of “i don’t get this,” he’ll end up at “so it must be wrong and stupid, because i’m always right,” especially if This = his favorite child being different in some significant way from who / what he thought they were. obviously he doesn’t react well or supportively, and the strain in his relationship with taylor tips over into full-blown estrangement. bad times for everyone.

if taylor’s bar fight happened when they were old enough to legally enter a bar, it happened after coming out to their family (also after the live poker fiasco), and before making plans for grad school / internships. most likely it was on a summer break they were spending back in their hometown. (another fun thought: taylor seeing the video of axe punching a guy, just weeks after they punched a guy, and going “well maybe i should work for him.”)

if douglas was at taylor’s sister’s wedding (and maybe he wasn’t!), it was awkward for everyone when he and taylor crossed paths again. barest of pleasantries, passive-aggressive comments, et cetera. naturally, it took a few more years — and douglas realizing that taylor, now being fairly wealthy and successful, could probably fund his dream project if they didn’t hate him — for him to decide to visit them.

[amlovelies]

somewhere between hope and pride

written for @wayhavenmonthly​‘s Fall for Unit Bravo

Day 18: Harvest

Pairing: Mason/F!oc (Serena Willis)

rating: M- strong language, sexual conversations and mention of alcohol and cigarettes

words: 1.7k

read on ao3

A/N this is another piece of my canon divergent as of yet untitled AU. 

               It’s exactly the sort of event I would have done anything to avoid back home. The community center is decorated with pumpkins, gourds, and leaves in the warm tones of fall. The last event of the annual harvest festival, the silent auction, is apparently the height of Wayhaven’s autumnal social calendar. Mayor Friedman had specially requested Unit Bravo’s presence. I’d considered telling Agent Greene that since I was not technically an agent that I must not be included in that mandate in order to escape attending.

               However, after weeks of what amounted to house arrest, I was more than happy for an opportunity to get out an about. We still had been unable to locate the party behind the bounty on Dinah. Without any real reason to leave the premises, I’d spent most of my days in the library, watching movies with Farah, and avoiding Mason.

               It’s been a little over two weeks since I ended things. That sounds like there was something to end. It’s been two weeks since I stopped hooking up with him, and it’s sucked. As much as I may know that I was making the right choice to protect myself, I miss spending time with him both in and out of the bedroom. But that was the whole reason why I had to stop it. My dumbass had caught feelings. If it was just fun then I wouldn’t miss him. Mason doesn’t do feelings.

               For all my grumbling, the event hasn’t been terrible. Nate and Farah are off going through the silent auction offerings. Adam has been dragged off to speak with the mayor and Agent Greene leaving Dinah, myself and Mason alone at our table.

               I’m nursing another glass of red wine and even without super senses I can hear the pretty brunette at the table behind us trying to work up the nerve to approach the brooding vampire sitting a few seats to my right. I have to remind myself that he was never mine to lose before I get too bitter.

               I steal a glance to see if he’s noticed, to see if I need to really start drinking in earnest.  I’ve never seen him in a button up before. It’s black and I can still see the chord of his crystal necklace poking out from where the last few buttons are undone. His hair is pulled back in a low ponytail with only a few strands falling out around his face. He looks sharp and devilishly handsome. As I look up, I find that his eyes are already on me. His brow is furrowed, but it smooths as he noticed me looking at him. I wonder how long he has been watching me, if he’s noticed how agitated I’ve become. I hope not.

               For once he looks away first. Without a word, he rises from the table and I notice him reaching for the pocket he always keeps his smokes in as he heads for the hallway. I surprised he is even bothering to leave; he usual lights up wherever he wants to, rules be damned. Maybe he needs a break from the overstimulation of the room. There are a lot of people here and it must be wreaking havoc on his nerves.

               “Well, that was interesting,” Dinah says off to my left.

               “Huh? What was interesting?” I ask as I turn to her.

               “I take it you still haven’t talked to him.”

               “There’s nothing to talk about.” I don’t want to have this argument again. She seems determined to try and make us out to be some great romance. Not everyone gets what she and Nate have.

               “How will you know if you don’t try?” she asks her voice soft as she places a soothing hand on my arm.

               I resist the urge to shake the hand off. I know she is trying to be helpful, and I don’t want to lash out at her. I’m just getting so tired of people encouraging me to do something I know will only hurt me. “Mason made it clear from the beginning that it was just fun. I don’t have a right to try and change the terms halfway through just because I’m stupid and caught feelings.”

               I already know how that conversation would go. At least this way my pride can stay intact.

               “Don’t look at me that way, Dinah. I’m fine.” I don’t want her pity. Not about this.

               She sighs and shakes her head, “and people say I’m stubborn.”

               “I’m not stubborn.” I say as I pour myself another glass of wine. “I’m just realistic.”

               We lapse into silence as I sip at the wine. After a minute or two, Nate slides into his seat next to Dinah. I’m thankful that they can keep each other company and just leave me to my wine.

               I hear a chair slide back from the table behind me, and watch as the brunette walks past me to the quieted cheers of her friends. Mason has reentered the hall, and apparently, she has finally found the nerve to make her move. She’s cute. Her low-cut dress much more flattering than the prim professional number I had borrowed from Dinah. I’m sure Mason will find her appealing enough. I knew he would find new people to take to bed; I just didn’t think I would be in the room when it happened.

               I see her reach out and place a hand on his arm. He hasn’t brushed her off and she hasn’t been scared off by his rudeness. I can’t do this. I want to leave, but they’re too close to the hallway. I glance around and see a smaller exit at the back.

               Adam will probably have my head, but I’d rather risk getting kidnapped than start crying in front of everyone here. In front of him.

               I think I hear Nate say my name as I go to leave, but I don’t turn around. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes and I need to get out now.

               The door leads to a small set of stairs. I’m alone. I walk to the edge of the landing and grab the metal railing for support. It’s freezing. Drawing in a deep breath I focus on the cold. I have no one to blame, but myself. I hate that I can feel tears escaping down my cheeks. Stupid, stupid Serena.

               At the sound of the door opening, I turn. I do my best to wipe away any trace of the tears before who ever it is can see.              

               Fuck. Why did it have to be him?

               “Though you were supposed to stay inside?” Mason growls at me as the door closes behind him leaving us alone on the stairs.

               “Well we both know that I don’t always follow the rules.” I say trying to be my usual snarky self.

               “You don’t have to babysit me.” I continue.  “I’d hate to ruin your fun.” It comes out with more bitterness than I meant.

               He looks confused for a moment, “oh that” he shrugs.

               “Yeah, so like I said, you don’t have to babysit me. I’ll go back inside in a minute. Go get your dick wet or whatever.” I cross my arms across my chest and roll my eyes. I’m shooting for nonchalance and indifferent, but I don’t know if I managed it.

               He looks at the door for a moment before looking back at me. “I don’t think I will.”

               “What, why not? She’s cute and seems into you. Isn’t that all you need?”

               He leans back against the wall and with a smirk says, “only one I want to have fun with here is you, Sweetheart.”

               I feel like all the air has been pulled out of my lungs. He’s a tempting vision and my body responds to the familiar pattern of banter. If it was only that it would be one thing, but there’s a flicker in my chest of something that feels suspiciously like hope. A vain hope that he means more with those words. That he means I’m the only one he wants beyond tonight.  

               “Too bad, because I’m not interested.”

               “you’re lying” he accuses me with narrowed eyes.

               “Is your ego really that fragile that you can’t handle a rejection.” I say with a scoff.

               He rolls his eyes. “I know you and you’re lying.” He smirks, “remember, your body gives you away.”

               Stupid vampire super senses.

               “Why do you care, Mason? We both know you were going to get bored sooner or later.” I turn away so he can’t see my eyes anymore. I can’t do anything about my heartrate, but I can get rid of at least one source of information.

               “Would I? I’m not bored yet.” I can’t tell if he’s asking me or if he’s asking himself. I feel him move closer so that he’s standing directly behind me. His hand ghost over my arm, not actually touching it. “I thought we were both having fun. I don’t see why it needs to stop.”

               “God damn it don’t make me say it!” I yell. I had hoped he would just let it go.

               “Heaven forbid I make you do something you don’t want to do, Sweetheart.” He says in a biting tone.

               “It wasn’t just fun for me.” I admit as I turn around to face him. “It was beginning to mean something to me, and I wanted it to mean something to you, but it doesn’t work that way for you.”

               There it is. Fuck my pride, I guess.

               “What if it did mean something?” he asks.

               My chest tightens as the little spark of hope flares within it, “Does it?”

               He closes the inches between us and kisses me. I don’t know if it’s an answer or a test, but at that moment I don’t care. His hands move to my hips and pull us flush together. God, I’ve missed this. My whole body feels like it ignites at his touch. Would it really be so terrible to believe in this? To believe he cares for me?

               This kiss breaks and I whisper, “I think I love you.”

               His hands drop from my hips as if he’d been burned.

               I nod and swallow all the emotions I’ll have to deal with later, “that’s what I thought.”

               I don’t give him a chance to respond before I’m through the door and back to the event.

               Stupid, stupid Serena. You knew how this would end.

tagging: @lord-king-saint, @morgans-ass-freckles, @agentnatesewell, @lilyoffandoms, @softforf and @bellarxse (If you would like to be tagged/not tagged/only tagged for certain pairings please let me know 💜)