#I MEAN MAYBE THAT'S WHY SHE'S SO POPULAR she's infected everyone's minds... we all love flower yesss... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yourdeepestfathoms · 5 years ago

Text

Disarming Voice

[Tour!verse]

One of, like, three gifts for @the10amongstthese3s because I love them so much and they mean a lot to me and I just 💚💘💙💖💚💖💚💘💙💘💚 I was supposed to wait for their birthday in June but they were sad earlier today and so I gathered the remains of the Adderall in my system and wrote this bad boy

I love you, Duckie!!!!!

also: i couldnt think of a title so i frantically searched up Pokemon moves and now this will be the second fanfic with a title that is a move from Pokemon (the first is Quiver Dance)

Word count: 3175

TW: Blood

———————

Haus of Holbein concluded with kaleidoscope of strobe lights and cacophony of giggles from the eager audience. They watched as the queens pranced over the risers and staircase for the next bit, unbeknownst to a small pop in the back that was deaf to even the Tudor ladies themselves. They just went on with their performance like they always did.

“It’s time for you to choose your bride, your highness!” Aragon declared in her high pitched, Welsh-tinged voice, and that was enough to pop a metaphorical balloon that cut Howard off from saying her next line.

Okay, well, it wasn’t really the metaphorical balloon popping that halted the show, but the sharp cry of pain that came from the upper right.

Joan was hunched over her keyboard, rocking back and forth slight and clutching at one side of her head. The sound of her soft whimpers and keens resonated in the earpieces each of the queen’s wore.

“Joan, what are you doing?” Anne hissed softly. She can hear the audience starting to murmur in confusion behind her.

“Stop the show,” Joan croaked weakly.

“What? We can’t-”

“Please!” Joan cried, her voice cracking. Her head snapped up and the spotlights caught on some kind of fluid running down the side of her face. Anne makes a sickened look and backed away, thinking that it may be blood. Aragon gave her an exasperated expression—how could a woman be afraid of the sight of blood? Or did Anne just pass out every time she had her period?

The golden queen’s internal nitpicking came to an abrupt halt when the director suddenly came on the speakers and announced a momentary intermission. A few people in the audience grumble in annoyance, while others groan, and the majority whispered even louder. A couple of stagehands are leering at Joan from the wings.

“What is going on?” The director suddenly stormed onstage, looking frazzled and aloof at the interruption. He was probably already imagining all the negative reviews and the money they’ll lose from people not wanting to come anymore, which definitely would not happen with how popular the show was. “Why did we stop? Joan, what did you do?”

“My-my ear—” Joan choked out. She’s rocking herself more prominently, as if she thought the movement would comfort her, but it clearly wasn’t working the magic she thought it would.

“You made us stop the show for an EARACHE?” The director barked.

“Hey, get off her ass.” Aragon growled, puffing out her chest to the obnoxious man and gathering herself up to her full size—which was easier taller than the director. And if she didn’t beat him in height, then her muscles and abs surely did, and she made sure to make that known to him.

“N-no, it’s—” Joan winced. “I-it’s—” She was stuttering too much for anyone to understand what she was saying, although nobody was really surprised. It was a habit of hers.

“Woah,” Maggie suddenly piped up. “What’s that on your face?”

Someone called for the main lights to be turned on, and the white-yellow fluid coating one side of Joan’s head is revealed. It was mixing with trails of red—blood. Anne stepped back dizzily and Aragon shot her a ‘get over it’ look over her shoulder before returning her full attention to the injured music director.

She could see that the fluids seemed to be coming from her ear and were dripping all the way down her jawline and onto her chest and shoulders. The droplets disappear against the dark material of her band uniform.

“Ew,” Jane wrinkled her nose and Joan looked dismayed at her reaction, then embarrassment. Pink did not go well with whatever color that liquid was supposed to be.

“What happened?” Cleves asked, incredibly curious. She was looking at the residue as if it were liquid gemstones.

“I-I had an—ear infection.” Joan explained, and each of her words are punctuated with a wince or whimper. “I took—pain killers, but—” She made a miserable, pained sound and clenched tighter.

“Your eardrum might have burst.” Cathy said bluntly.

Joan went very pale, and the fluids suddenly look a lot darker. Or maybe that was just because of the increased sputtering of blood that’s coming out.

Slowly, so slowly, she pulled her hand back, and they all saw the drooling maw that was her left ear. The interior was completely coated in a thick amalgam of water, blood, and something that looked like pus, and the hole seemed to be clogged by the same concoction, although that looked a lot more /red/. It was weeping the foul-smelling liquid; Anne gagged loudly, but Aragon didn’t know if it was because of the sight, the smell, or both.

“Yikes,” Maggie winced. “That looks painful.” At her side, Howard tentatively touched her ear, as if she thought that her eardrum may randomly burst and put her through the same pain the music director was very obviously feeling.

“What do we do?” Aragon asked, waving her head around to everyone.

“Well, if I remember correctly,” Cathy said in her infamous know-it-all voice, “burst eardrums usually heal on their own.”

There was a collective sigh of relief—and then Cathy started talking again.

“However, sometimes surgery is needed. I’ve heard of cauterizing being used as a form of treatment, too.”

Miraculously, Joan’s face managed to get even whiter. If Cathy noticed, she doesn’t relent with her fact-stating.

“And hearing loss is sometimes possible. Which, when working in show biz, doesn’t seem to be a very good th-”

“Thank you, Cathy!” Aragon said loudly, batting her goddaughter away. She set a hand on Joan’s shoulder and her heart broke a little when she felt the girl trembling. Ice blue eyes stare up at her in fear.

“I-I don’t want t-to get my ear cauterized.” Joan stammered. “O-or go deaf!”

“You won’t, honey,” Aragon assured her. I hope. “I’ll take you to the doctor’s.”

“What?” The director squawked. “You can’t leave!” He wheeled around to Joan, bug-eyed and desperate. “You can still perform, can’t you?”

“My EAR is LEAKING!” Joan cried, holding out her pus-soaked hand to the man, who reared away in disgust. Anne gagged again from somewhere further away and Howard begrudgingly leaves the commotion to go comfort her soon-to-be-ill cousin.

Aragon raised her eyebrows with a pleased smile. She didn’t often hear Joan snap at people, but she was always very impressed when she was around for it. It just proved there were thorns under that shell she’s always hiding in.

“Can you walk?” Aragon said softly, then wanted to slap her. She was on the side with the injured ear—Joan probably could barely hear from that side.

“Yeah.” Joan still said, making out the queen’s words. She wobbled to her feet, and although it was her ear that was the part that hurt, her legs were still hindered by the waves of pain and discomfort washing over her.

“Ow,” She whispered, wincing.

“Come on, darling.” Aragon said to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I won’t let you fall.”

“What about the show?” The director warbled woefully.

“The swings are here, aren’t they?” Aragon said dismissively. “Get one of them to do it!”

There’s a reply, but Aragon was already leading Joan off of the stage, through the wings, and out the back door to the staff parking lot.

“What did it feel like?” Aragon asked as she was driving to the hospital. She glanced at the shuddering form of Joan in the passenger seat. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Um,” Joan looked a little uncomfortable. “Sorta like a water balloon popping? I kinda heard, like, umm—this pop, I guess? And then splitting pain and, ahh—there was stuff—coming out of my ear.”

At least, Aragon thinks that’s what she said. She liked to think she was good at discerning Joan Stutters, but the girl was just stammering so badly that even she was having a hard time understanding what exactly she was saying. She reached one hand off the steering wheel and touched Joan’s shoulder, hoping it may help comfort her.

“It’ll be okay, darling.” She told her.

“P-please focus on the road,” Joan said, glancing anxiously at the hand on her shoulder.

“Right.” Aragon pulled her hand away. She should have known—Joan hated when she didn’t drive with both hands on the wheel.

How was it possible to hold so much anxiety in such a scrawny little body?

They soon arrived at the hospital in a whirl of rhinestones and sparkles, seeing as they were both still in their show costumes. The people in the waiting room were dazzled at the shimmering gold outfit Aragon was stuck in, and one person even recognized her and got up to possibly ask for a picture, but then immediately sat back down when they noticed her determined, ‘do not fuck with me’ expression. If her leotard was breaking some kind of hospital dress code, nobody decided to say something.

Aragon explained to the woman at the reception desk about what they were there for, gesturing vaguely to the coagulated mess on the side of Joan’s head in the process a few times. After getting checked in, they took a seat in the waiting room, much to Aragon’s displeasure. Sure, Joan’s injury was no broken bone or heart attack, but the girl was clearly in a severe amount of pain. If the way she wouldn’t stop shaking didn’t give that away.

“Snowflake?” Aragon gently touched her hand. “Are you alright, baby?”

Joan merely replied with a soft “mmm” and kept her eyes shut. Aragon frowned. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a boy with his parents staring at the mess on Joan’s head and shot him a look that nearly made him keel over dead.

“You’re going to be okay.” Aragon told her girl, keeping her voice warm and soothing. “I promise.”

Joan just nodded this time.

It took almost twenty minutes and an extra squirting of ear water and pus, but Joan was eventually called for examination. Aragon followed her, sliding past the several gazes she got as she went along.

As Cathy predicted, there wasn’t much the doctors could do for something inside of Joan’s head, and they were sure she didn’t want a sudden surgery to repair some pieces of frayed tissue. However, they did clean up her head and ear (which was a painful process when a q-tip was used), and prescribed her some stronger antibiotics since it was clear she was in some discomfort.

On the drive to her apartment, Joan looked terribly guilty.

“What’s wrong, snowball?” Aragon asked, glancing at the sulking girl.

Joan mumbled something. Aragon leaked over slightly.

“A little louder, baby. I can’t hear you.”

“I made you miss the show for nothing.” Joan said. “And then you paid for a pointless doctor visit.” She hunched over in the passenger seat and put her head in her hands. “You wasted so much for me.”

It took all of Aragon’s willpower to not veer the car off the road and start laying into Joan about how she’d give up everything for her, but she kept her cool and continued driving so she wouldn’t freak the girl out even more. Her added car anxiety wouldn’t make anything better.

“Honey, I chose to take you to the doctor’s.” Aragon said. “It was my idea. You didn’t force me. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Joan pulled her head back and nodded slowly. Aragon wished she would smile, or at least stop frowning guiltily like she was. The girl was always too hard on herself, always blaming herself for things she didn’t cause and always losing her mind over the most minor inconveniences. She thought she was to prove herself or live up to the queen’s greatness, Aragon realized awhile ago.

They parked in Joan’s apartment complex and Joan didn’t even try to convince Aragon that she didn’t have to stay like she usually did. She just trudged up the two flights of stairs to her flat- Argaon always wondered how she got all her furniture up there, as she was sure the girl was too shy to ask a moving company for help. The image of her darling snow fox trying to haul an entire wardrobe up the steps was quite funny, albeit a bit pitiful.

Stepping into Joan’s apartment, however, was even more pitiful.

Aragon never got over how barren Joan’s home was. She stumbled through a dark corridor, kicking off her shoes as she does so. She saw Joan turn on a lamp instead of the main lights (they hurt her eyes, she had said before), and the glow it gave off was dim, as though the bulb was about to go out. It was enough to illuminate the bare and cold living room, dining room, and kitchen, which were all empty of decorations. Joan was terrible with money, fearing that buying a simple potted plant would leave her bankrupt. She did have a small cactus in her kitchen, though—its name was Prickle.

Joan grabbed a light blue cup from the sink, the only dish in the basin, and filled it up with some water before swallowing one of the painkillers, despite already having taken one while at the hospital.

“Joan, baby?” Aragon called out gently. “Does it hurt that much?”

She worried about the pain being that severe and the chance that Joan was just taking more pills because she liked how they made her numb. She once said she liked not feeling—it made her forget about her worthlessness and stress.

Joan sorta just shrugged in response, staring ruefully down into the cup. Aragon came over to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“How about we watch a movie?” She suggested. “Or do you want to rest?”

“It’s only lunchtime.” Joan pointed out. “I can’t rest already.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of catnaps?” Aragon poked her in the stomach, which made her giggle and squirm away. It was music to her ears. “Let’s make lunch, then. And THEN watch a movie.”

She detangled herself from Joan and walked over to the fridge. Her eyes widened when she saw what was inside.

“You went grocery shopping!” She spun around to Joan, clasping her hands in her own. “I’m so proud of you!”

She had been so worried to see the fridge empty like so many times before, but this time there was /food/! Sure, it wasn’t much, but it was something! Joan had bought fruit and milk and cheese and eggs and that weird LaCroix drinks she insists are really good but Aragon just thinks they taste like static and a single cherry skittle that’s been dissolved in water for three hours. There was food in the pantry, too—bread and crackers, biscuits and cereal, canned soup and packets of macaroni. Joan had even bought herself ice cream!

Joan blushed shyly, looking away.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” She murmured.

“It is to me!” Aragon whisked her up in her arms, causing Joan to squeak and cling to the ruffs on her shoulders.

“That’s itchy,” Joan said after she was set down, wrinkling her nose at Aragon’s costume.

“Tell me about it,” Aragon laughed. “Do you think any of your clothes will fit me? I’d watch the movie naked like I usually do, but I feel like that wouldn’t be proper guest etiquette.”

“Oh, I actually have—”

Aragon burst into laughter at the double take Joan does.

“Wait. What?!” Joan blinked at her, probably picturing that image in her head and then immediately being horrified when it actually materializes in her brain. “Don’t you— Doesn’t Anna share a room with you?”

“Then I guess I’m the award-winning film she’s watching.” Aragon smirked.

“Ahhh!!” Joan slapped Aragon's arms frantically. “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”

“What? You don’t like hearing about my-“

“LA LA LA LA LA LA LA!!!” Joan covered her ears, although softly with her injured one. “I CAN’T HEAR YOU!!! MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB, LITTLE LAMB, LITTLE LAMB!!!”

Aragon laughed until her chest hurt. She wiped one of her eyes and set a hand on Joan’s head.

“Okay, snowfall, I’m done.”

Joan carefully removed her hands, peering up at Aragon suspiciously.

“You’re gross.” She poked her.

“Not gross. H-”

Joan slapped her hands back over her ears.

Which was a big mistake.

“You dummy.” Aragon said when Joan keened sharply in pain. “Shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s your fault!” Joan said miserably. She carefully rubbed the space next to her injured ear, but stopped when Aragon started to do it for her, leaning blissfully into her touch. “You’re the reason Maggie likes to tease me about having mommy issues.”

Aragon snorted. “I’m not surprised.” She said. “Now. What were you saying before?”

A blush dusts Joan’s cheeks. “Oh. Right.” She fidgets with a rhinestone on her costume. “I, umm— Well, seeing as you come over a lot— I— I got you some spare clothes.”

Aragon perked up, smiling. “Aww. That’s so sweet of you to do, Joan!”

Joan blushed harder and then scurried off to go change while Aragon started to make their lunch. She changed soon after, and then they sat down on the couch with their grilled cheeses.

“How’s your ear feeling?” Aragon asked as Joan was flipping through Netflix (technically, it was Aragon’s account. Of course Joan wouldn’t by her own—financial anxiety and all. And of course Aragon had to share with the girl!)

“Better,” Joan said, then touched it tentatively. “But it’s kinda, like...ringing.” She curled into Aragon’s side. “I don’t like it.”

“I’m sorry, baby girl,” Aragon wrapped her arms around Joan and she marveled at how perfectly she fit, as if that spot had been shaped by the universe just for the girl. She didn’t think even Mary had fit that well.

It was a sign, she realized: This is where this girl should stay. In your arms. Forever.

Aragon smiled. She liked the sound of that, even if she knew it would definitely be questioned by other people. They wouldn’t be able to wrap their heads around her loving some anxious mess of a music director more than her birth daughter she had fought tooth and nail to be with all those centuries ago. But it was hard to feel a sliver of love towards Mary after hearing about the horrors she’s done—she was just ashamed. Ashamed to be her mother, so she disconnected herself from the bloody ties of her child and went searching for someone who needed her more.

And that’s how she found Joan. Her perfect, weird little moon. Every inch nervous and shy, with so much room to be loved, and everything Mary would never ever be.

Sorry, Mary, Aragon thought with a chuckle, imagining her daughter throwing a fit in her place in hell.

She snuggled Joan closer and set her chin on her head. She felt Joan lean in closer and she smiled lovingly.

“So, what are we watching?”

48 notes · View notes

miss-smrxtiee · 4 years ago

Text

-forgetfulness-

Ch.1- Cords of Shards

Beckett Harrington x F!MC (Ellie Valentine)

Summary: An AU of my take on book 2 starting from Kane’s Tea party and further on. When A sudden circumstance causes Ellie to loose her memory and return to normal life, will Beckett try to reach her? And what will happen if he does?

Warnings ⚠️: Angst, swearing, manipulation.

A/N:❤️ PLEASE READ ❤️: I know some of you want VWD to come back and I’m currently working on new chapters But I’ve found my muse is in TE and I felt pressured to do OH fics (a popular book) and I felt I wasn’t as confident in my writing and was more focused on the fact that my OH fics were more popular... but I’ve come to realize that if you don’t enjoy writing it and it makes you stress. Then why do it? I’ve always loved TE and it makes me so happy to write. I’ve improved my writing since my first couple of TE fics and I am so happy to start this series with you guys! Likes and reblog are VERY appreciated- S💖

fun fact: This series idea came to me at exactly 3:01 AM while playing my Spotify daily mixes. 🙃

❤️- Series Masterlist-❤️

💖-Full Masterlist-💖

💜-Prompt List-💜 (ask me!)

———————————-

A past event...

Ellie’s POV.

Ellie stood a few steps behind Alma as she prepared to attack Kane. She and her friends had agreed to go to the tea party Kane was holding in her honor.

This was a bad idea...

She had hoped to get some clues of who her mother was and how she could find her. And despite Alma and Atlas’ warnings to stay away. She couldn’t help herself if it was going to give her the information she needed.

“Kane. You’re powerless against me.” Alma said in a fierce tone. Kane was clearly upset.

“How dare you all enter without an invitation!” Kane’s eyes began to glow as Alma attacked with a wave of her hand.

“Give up Kane. You’ve lost.” Alma continued, only making Kane more angry.

“I will NOT!” Kane’s magick started flickering as his gaze landed on Ellie. His lips suddenly turned up into a smirk and in a flash he had pulled her to him.

“Let’s see how you like this, stubborn one...” Kane said. She tried to get out of his grip. But he held on. He placed a hand on her neck and Alma’s eyes went wide with horror and he casted a spell.

“NO!” Was the last thing Ellie heard before the spell had infected her neck, leaving a permanent mark of the Air Sign imbedded into her skin. She screamed with pain and collapsed next to Kane’s feet. He waved his hand and she was blasted into the wall behind her with a gust of wind, causing her pain to double over and cause everything around her to go dizzy. She heard her friends call out to her but Kane had a ward up to separate the groups. When Ellie opened her eyes she could see Kane disappear with the blink of an eye. When the ward had been broken. Alma rushed over to her to check the mark.

Ellie groaned at the pain crashing through her. Shit. Alma brushed her short hair to the side, revealing the air sign that was the main source of her pain.

“Ellie!” Beckett dropped down to his knees by her side, grabbing her hand. “Alma what’s going on?” He said looking at her neck. Then back at her with a worried expression.

Alma was silent...

“Alma?” Atlas said waving a hand in her face.

“I-...The mark...” she stared at it, dumbfounded. “It’s a cursed mark that allows Kane to mess with her head. A magickal form of manipulation to most Likely get Ellie to help him with his plans.” Alma said, still looking horrified.

“Whenever he activates the mark through his own magick, he controls her head, causing her mind and his mind to be one, all her powers coming with it.

“Well? Is there a way to extract the curse?” Beckett said.

“.... I’m not entirely sure, this kind of thing never happens, Kane is the only person with the power of the curse and it takes up so much power I’m suprise he didn’t pass out after casting it onto her.”

“There has to be something that we can do... maybe the library? Those always have some sort of solution.”Zeph said.

“Yeah! Like a ritual to brake the curse!” Shreya mused.

“...I’m afraid nothing of the sort would work.” Alma said while tracing her fingers around the mark.

“What?!” Everyone said in usion.

“There’s only one thing I would be able to do. And we would have to come up with a new plan to destroy Kane...” Alma stood up.

“Well? Spit it out! We need to help Ellie and we can deal with Kane later.” Zeph said, taking Alma’s place next to Ellie.

“... It’s a spell called the Cords of Shards. It cuts off the magick inside of her brain that ties her to Kane’s magick.”

Ellie squeezes her eyes shut and groans as she tries to surpress the next wave of pain coursing through her body.

“It will hold... side effects. But it’s the only way to stop Kane and protect Ellie.” Alma said.

“Please just get this thing off of me.” Ellie said with a pained tone.

“Very well.” Alma said crouching down and waving her hand over her face. Ellie’s eyes flicker close and her body goes limp.

Beckett’s POV.

“What the hell Alma!” Atlas retorted.

“She doesn’t need to be awake. The pain would kill her.” Alma stared, standing up again.

“We need to do this in a more controlled environment. Preferably the medical ward.” Alma said looking at Beckett hinting to pick her up and he obliges. Still worried about her. He hooks his arms under her knees and upper back and lifts her into his arms.

Please be okay... he thought.

As they entered the medical ward, they find Dean Swan preparing a room. She perks up at the sight of your group entering the room.

“Oh thank goodness!” Swan said. Speed walking over to Ellie, she casted an air spell to lift her into the prepared bed and raps her up with blankets.

“Swan, may I speak to you privately?” Alma asked. Swan nodded and they walked out into the hall.

“What are they talking about?” Griffin questioned before sitting down in the chair next to Ellie.

“She probably needs to inform her about the spell.” Shreya answered, tapping her chin.

Something isn’t right...

Beckett thought back to not to long ago...

“It will hold... side effects. But it’s the only way to stop Kane and protect Ellie.” Alma said.

“What did Alma mean by ‘side effects’” Beckett asked with air quotes.

“That’s a good question, we should as-“ Zeph began before being cut of by Alma opening the door, Swan following behind looking scared and sad.

Whatever they talked about, clearly wasn’t good.

“Kane will take advantage of the mark soon, we should get to work before something happens.” Alma said with a stoic facial expression.

“I agree... the faster the... better.” Swan said.

She’s acting weird...

“I hate to ask you this but, I’ll need you all to leave the room while I set up the equipment.” Alma said walking over to the supply closet.

“What do you mean ‘equipment’.” Zeph asked.

Alma sighed. “Remember I said we needed a controlled environment?” Alma said with a glare at your group.

You all sigh and walk out. Beckett glances back at Ellie, brows creased.

Please don’t hurt her...

The group decided to meet back in 30 minutes. Beckett used this time to clear his head and walk around the hospital.

He eventually made his way towards the cafeteria but stopped short at a sign that caught his eye.

—— HOSPITAL COLOR CODES ——

Blue: Life Threatening

Green: Mass paitent arrival

Red: smoke and or fire evacuation

Black: Personal Threat

Grey: physical aggression

White: out of control patient

Purple: Bomb Threat

Pink: abduction

Orange: evacuation

————————————————————

I hope I don’t have to hear any of these today... he thought to himself before continuing his walk to the cafeteria.

After grabbing a bite he returns to Ellie’s room and knocks.

He hears shuffling, and eventually swan peaks out.

“Oh! Mr. Harrington you’re back early!” Swan said.

“Uh yes, is Ellie okay?” His brows creased again with worry.

“Oh we are still performing the spell. More doctors are coming soon so it shouldn’t take too long after they arrive.” Swan explained.

“But you should tell your friends to wait another 30 minutes so we can ensure Ellie is safe. I suggest going to the medical wards game room upstairs. It will help clear out the worry.” Swan pointed to the stairwell.

“I have to get back to helping but it’s best to wait a while...”

Guess I can’t argue with the freaking Dean...

“Oh... okay, I’ll inform the rest of them about it, thank you.” Becket answered.

Swan nods and closes the door behind her.

What’s a word stronger then weird to discribe that conversation...

“Hey! Buck-boo!” Zeph waved from down the hall.

“I told you to stop calling me that Zephyr.” Beckett pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Remember Zeph, he’s only soft for Ellie.” Atlas mused.

“You people are insufferable...” Beckett said.

Zeph went to knock on Ellie’s door but Beckett cut him off with his hands.

“They won’t let us in, Swan told me it’s going to be another 30 minutes...” Beckett quickly explained.

“ I hope she’s alright.” Griffin said, appearing next to Zeph with Shreya short behind.

“I’m sure she’s gonna be okay. Swan said there was a lounge upstairs so let’s wait to hear back from her there.” Beckett said walking towards the stairwell, his friends following.

Alma’s POV.

Alma’s hands glow brilliantly over Ellie’s head. Their skin isn’t touching, just hovering. Alma’s face is scrunched up with concentration before Dean Swans words fill her senses.

“Her memory will be lost Alma, the mark is too strong.” Swan was helping with her own blood magick. Her hands where placed over the mark to give Alma a boost.

“We can’t have Kane using her, it will be worth it and Ellie would understand.” Alma replied with her gaze still on her hands.

“Her friends aren’t going to take it well, Mr. Harrington came back early to check on her, and I saw Zeph walking towards him when I closed the door. And we both know Atlas will be furious.” Swan informed. Alma sighed and her gaze flickered to the door before returning back to Ellie.

It was silent for a few moments before Alma spoke.

“They don’t have to find out about it for now.” Alma muttered.

“Ha. Good luck with that. That group will break you if they find out what happened to her.” Swan said.

“...I’ve come up with a plan already, I know a spell that can restore the basics of her memory from her foster parents, who she is, and we can put her back at Hartfield and she can continue her Studies there. It’s going to be tough on the group but I’ll put a protection ward on the mirror in her dorm so that we don’t have another incident...” Alma told Swan and continued filling her in on her plans to slip Ellie out unnoticed and quickly perform the spell. By the time Alma was finished, the Cords of Shards was complete and they where preparing her departure.

Beckett’s POV.

After inpatiently waiting with their group, Beckett decided to check up on them and knock on Ellie’s door.

No answer.

Maybe their still doing the spell? No...

Knock knock.

No answer.

Beckett’s brow creased and he turns the door handle to walk inside. He looks around and finally his eyes land on the bed that laid in the middle of the room.

Only to find it empty, not a soul in the room...

————————————

I promise you this will make sense next chapter! Thank you for reading I hope you guys enjoy the kick off to this series and hopefully next chapter will be longer! - S

Series tags:

@oofchoices

@fluffy-marshmallow-heart (They inspired me 💖)

If you would like to be tagged in my series tags please let me know because I’ll put my perm tag list here only for this chapter and only use my series tags after that. 💖

Perm tags:

@aylamreads

@aylamwrites

@ramseysno1rookie

@kinkypot

@soheila-1996

#choices stories you play #pixelberry #choices #playchoices #beckett harrington #the elementalists #TE fanfic #I NEED BOOK 3 #beckett harrington fanfiction #choices fanfiction #beckett x mc

14 notes · View notes

freddiesaysalright · 5 years ago

Text

I Don’t Like You or Your Band

John Deacon x Reader

Summary: Reader is a music journalist, and a very popular one at that. She knew Deaky when they were teenagers. She’s written a pretty harsh piece about Queen.

Word Count: 10K

Tag List: @someone-get-a-medic @deakysgurl, @polarcrystall, @queer-heart-attack, @dewdarkdemon, @qweenly, @smittyjaws, @caborhapch, @amelialio, @flyawayhay, @hannahfuckingsucks, @hotspacedeaky, @julessbrown, @reavenedges-lies, @simmisblog, @anna-1946, @ziggymay, @retromusicsalad, @catch-a-deak, @winterssoldierrs, @casafrass, @cranberribread, @strawberry-lemonade0, @ilovetacos1267

A/N: This gets very smutty at the end, but that was the whole point! Also, this fic was inspired by the song, “I Don’t Like You or Your Band” by Kate Rhudy. Go check her out on Spotify, her whole album is awesome :)

Your cigarettes, your leather shoes You, your friends, and your middle class white boy blues You’ve become something I can’t stand Don’t even miss holdin’ your hand And I don’t like you or your band

Monday I was in love with a good, good man

He was kissing you. Shy and sloppy, reflecting the innocence of the moment. You reached for the buttons of his shirt, hands shaking. He went to do the same, his fingers tracing the hem of your sweater. It was soft and pink, as virginal as you were.

Your eyes snapped open. A tear leaked out and slid down your cheek. Why were you dreaming this now? Then you remembered. The Queen article was going out today. It was scathing. The thought made you nervous. Would the band see it? Would he see it? Did you care if he did?

You wiped your face and got up. You put on a simple dress and heels, pushing all thoughts of your past to the back of your mind. You didn’t want to think about him now. You didn’t want to think about him at all, really.

As you walked into you office, you said hello to the receptionist as you made your way to your empty desk. You usually had a copy of the week’s issue waiting for you, before they hit the shelves. Your brow furrowed.

“Y/N,” said your editor, Charles, as he sauntered over to you. “You ready for today’s issue?”

He waved the magazine in front of you before letting it fall onto your desk with a slap. Queen was spread across the front page. You looked away.

You nodded at Charles, resolving yourself to your pride in your work. Your history with John Deacon was irrelevant. In fact, you had not even disclosed it to Charles - or anyone - because you felt that it mattered that little.

“Hey, you’re from the same town as the bass player, right?” Charles asked.

A nervous twinge went through you. “Um, yeah.”

“Did you know him?”

“No,” you lied. “No, not really.”

***

“This is shit!” Roger cried, throwing down the magazine as he entered the studio. “Have you all read this review?”

“Oh, God, what is it now?” Freddie wondered, rolling his eyes.

“Listen,” Roger said irritably. “‘Queen is a band with talent that could best be described as above average. Their most redeeming quality is their frontman, Freddie Mercury, but even his eccentric style and quality vocals can’t make up for the fact that they’re just another wannabe Zeppelin. Only they don’t have half the lyrical depth or musical skill.’ What the fuck?!”

“Who’s the author?” Brian wondered.

“She’s a really well-known reporter,” Roger said. “She did that whole profile on Elton John last year that everyone loved. Y/N Y/L/N.”

John choked on the sip of water he was taking, and the other three turned eyes on him.

“Do you know her?” Freddie asked.

John coughed for a moment and had to catch his breath. “Yes.”

They all still stared at him. He cleared his throat. “What?”

“How do you know her?” Roger asked.

“We sort of went out when we were in school,” John explained. “I guess you could say she was my first real girlfriend.”

“Well - Christ, Deaks, what’d you do to her?” Roger wondered.

“Nothing!” John insisted. “I mean - I suppose we - well, it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Could you speak in complete sentences?” Brian asked cheekily. “So the rest of us might keep up?”

John ran a hand down his face and groaned. He mumbled something that the others couldn’t hear.

“Deaky, just tell us!” Roger cried.

“We were each other’s first times!” he finally came out with. “We were seventeen and it was weird and then I fucked off to London shortly after.”

Freddie burst into giggles. Roger sighed and Brian rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t you just ring her and apologize?” Roger suggested. “Maybe she’ll take back what she said.”

“Oh, come on,” John returned. “That article couldn’t possibly be a reaction to something that happened years ago. It’s probably just her honest opinion.”

“There’s no way that’s her opinion because the album isn’t shit and we’re not Zeppelin wannabes,” Roger insisted. “If anything, we also have an influence from Yes.”

“Which she also mentions,” Brian interjected, looking at the article again. “She really knows her stuff. Even if she is wrong about us.”

“If she really knew her stuff, she wouldn’t be wrong about us,” Roger said stubbornly.

“That gives me an idea,” Freddie said.

They all looked curiously at him.

“What is it?” Brian asked.

“Let’s invite her here,” Freddie said. “Let her see how our work comes together and how original we are. That is, if it isn’t too uncomfortable for you, Deaky, dear.”

“Look, it wasn’t like I left without saying anything,” John further explained. “We had a normal breakup, I thought.”

“Great!” Freddie said with an excited clap. “It’s decided! She’ll join us for the week!”

“Hold on, nothing is decided!” Roger argued, but Freddie was already gone to use the phone. “Well, I’m not going to be nice to her.”

“She wasn’t very nice to us first,” Brian said as if that settled the matter.

***

You were going through some papers on your desk as preliminary work for your next article. Your phone rang and you picked it up lazily.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you answered.

“Ah, Miss Y/L/N,” said a strangely familiar voice on the other end. “This is Freddie Mercury.”

A chill ran down your spine and your heart nearly stopped. “What?”

“We’ve read your piece on our music, and I must say, darling, we believe you’re mistaken,” he said. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Look, Mr. Mercury,” you said, finding your voice again. “I was just doing my job. If you don’t like what I say, that’s your problem. At this point, Queen should be used to bad press.”

It was a low blow, but you didn’t care. Freddie only snickered.

“I like you, darling,” he said. “You’re feisty. But I’m about to make you an exclusive offer.”

“I’m listening.”

He arranged to meet you at a cafe between your office and their studio. You told Charles about the call.

“Y/N, are you serious?” he gasped.

“Do you want me to cancel?” you asked, concerned by his tone.

“Hello no!” he cried. “Take the meeting, and whatever exclusive they’re offering you. Find out everything you can about them. Dig up the dirt. Find me something we can use to take them down.”

“Take them down?” you wondered. “I don’t want to make shit up about them.”

“You won’t have to,” he said. “But get me something.”

“I’ll do my best,” you said warily.

“That’s a good girl.”

You clenched your teeth as you left the office. You hated when men talked to you like that. You were a grown woman, out on her own. You were not a little girl who needed the approval of anyone, especially not a man.

You went to the cafe where Freddie asked to meet. You spotted the band right away. Brian’s fluffy curls gave them away, but you first noticed John. He looked quite different with his long hair and fancy clothes. But he was still John. Whether or not that was a good thing remained to be seen. You loved the John you knew dearly. But he also hurt you.

“You must be Y/N Y/L/N,” Freddie said, getting to his feet and shaking your hand. The others offered you no such courtesy.

“I am,” you said. “Obviously, I know who all of your are.”

“Obviously,” Freddie said slowly, with a mischievous grin. “We wanted to talk to you about your article and offer an opportunity to...correct it.”

You frowned. “It doesn’t need correcting. The appeal of music is entirely subjective. Not everyone is going to think you’re the greatest band to walk the earth.”

“There’s no need to get defensive,” he said. “Especially since you haven’t heard our offer.”

“Well, make it then,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“She’s right to business,” he remarked. “I like it.”

“You wanna make an arrangement or do you wanna fuck around?”

He laughed. It was charming in its own way. You tried not to let it infect you, but you felt the corners of your mouth nearly twitch. It didn’t help that you were ignoring John’s intense gaze.

“Spend the week in the studio with us,” he said. “See what we do. How we put our unique sound together. I guarantee you’ll change your mind.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him and then gestured to the rest of the band. “And you’re all on board with this?”

You scanned them. Roger glowered at the ground and didn’t answer. Brian nodded stiffly. Finally, you met John’s eyes. It took him a moment to respond, but when he opened his mouth, Freddie spoke.

“Deaky told us you’re old friends,” he said.

You weren’t looking at him, but you could feel his smirk. You continued to look at John and your gaze hardened.

“Oh?” you said coldly. “I don’t recall.”

You cut away from his stare, but you saw his mouth drop a little before he quickly closed it again. Your eyes found Freddie’s, and laughter danced behind them.

“What do you say?” he asked, ignoring his clear urge to take a dig at his friend. “One full week behind the scenes with Queen. And you’ll write a new story.”

“What if my opinion stays the same?” you challenged.

“You write it exactly how you see it,” he said. “If you don’t change your mind - although I’m sure you will, darling - you can write even more about how terrible we are.”

“You’re awfully confident,” you replied.

He shrugged. “Take it or leave it, love.”

“I’ll take it,” you said. “But just so you know, everything is on the record.”

“We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With the deal in place, you went with them to the studio. You walked there right from the cafe since you had your notepad in your bag. You followed behind them, but John dropped back to walk beside you. You resisted rolling your eyes.

“Y/N,” he said. “It’s - uh - good to see you.”

“Wish I could say the same,” you returned, not looking at him.

He grabbed your arm and yanked you to a stop. You glared at him and wrenched yourself free.

“What’s up with you?” he demanded quietly so the other guys wouldn’t hear. “I thought our relationship was meaningful...that we still cared about each other.”

“You did?” you spat. “Well, imagine my surprise.”

He blinked. “What did I do?”

“It’s what you didn’t do,” you said. “Everything you fucking forgot when you left home, including me.”

“I never forgot you,” he insisted.

“You could have fooled me,” you bit back.

He looked away, clearly stung. You didn’t feel the least bit sorry for him.

“Is that why you wrote those things about Queen?” he asked.

You laughed humorlessly. “Oh, please. You’re not important enough to be my reason to write anything.”

With that, you jogged ahead, away from him. You made a silent vow to yourself that you would not go there again with him. That from here on out, you would keep everything professional. There was no need to face what had happened. That was behind you. And you weren’t going that way.

The first day with the band went smoothly. You didn’t interact very much with them, just quietly observing them from the booth. You had to admit they worked hard, overcame small disputes, and were experimental.

You noticed your eyes lingering on John throughout rehearsal. His face looked the same as it used to when he was concentrating on learning a new line for a song. He looked natural behind the bass, and for a moment, you forgot you were angry at him. It was like the old days, when he was with The Opposition, and you were just a young girl with doe eyes, and he was the rock star of your heart.

You shook your head to clear it. No. It would never be that way again. You knew only too well how that story ended.

Tuesday You left me unamused and unimpressed

The next day, you skipped going to your office entirely. You had called Charles from the studio and explained what they had offered, and you were pretty sure you heard him cry on the other end of the line. He again reminded you to find something “juicy” while you insisted you would still only report the truth. You could picture the way he rolled his eyes when he sighed at you.

“Must you be so annoyingly ethical?” he wondered.

“I’m a journalist, Charles, not a gossip columnist,” you returned, and hung up the phone.

So on Tuesday morning, you came straight into the studio. You heard voices in the booth. Knowing them to be the band’s, you stopped and listened. Since they didn’t know you were there, this was obviously off the record, but you were just curious.

“Honestly, I don’t know what you ever saw in her,” Roger said.

“She didn’t used to be…” John trailed off.

“Such a bitch?” Roger finished.

“I guess so,” John agreed. “When I knew her she was honestly the sweetest person I’d ever met. A really lovely girl.”

“Are sure it’s the same Y/N Y/L/N?” Brian joked.

They all snickered.

“Well, she mostly looks the same,” John said.

“I will give you that she’s a looker,” Roger said. “But it’s hard to believe that woman was ever a ‘really lovely girl.’”

“She was,” John insisted. “Really, she was. Her nickname in school was Judy because she reminded everyone of Judy Garland.”

Just hearing that endearment again - especially from John’s lips - drove a knife through your heart and twisted it.

“Judy Garland?” Roger returned, incredulous. “Are you joking?”

You decided to walk in now, lest this conversation go further into John’s memory of a girl that no longer existed.

“Morning, gents,” you said coolly.

Roger groaned, departed to the studio, and started fiddling with his drum set. He left the door open, but the rest of the band did not follow him just yet. Freddie looked at you.

“Sorry about him,” he said.

You shrugged. “I don’t care that he doesn’t like me. I don’t need anyone’s approval. Especially not some Cornish pixie drummer boy.”

Roger froze, dropping a drumstick, and scowled at you. Freddie cackled. John clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Even Brian let out a small chuckle. You just stared Roger down, cocking a challenging eyebrow at him. He said nothing, but he did flip you off through the window. You rolled your eyes and took a seat on the couch.

Brian joined Roger in the studio, picking up his guitar and slinging it across his body as he began tuning it. You watched how careful he was. Roger was too. They were meticulous about sounding exactly right. You observed this the previous day as well but thought they were just doing that because you were there. Clearly, this was their normal routine. You were just barely impressed.

They started playing through a song, but quickly began bickering about tempo. Roger accused Brian of going too slow, whereas Brian thought that was appropriate for the song. Voices were raised, insults were tossed, glares were exchanged. Freddie was giggling as he watched from the booth. John kept glancing at you, but you resolutely ignored him.

“Darlings, darlings,” Freddie said to Roger and Brian. “Please. We can settle this. Deaky, what do you think? Roger’s tempo or Brian’s?”

“Roger,” John said.

“Of course you side with him,” Brian snapped, rolling his eyes.

“Christ, Brian, it’s not personal,” John argued.

“Yeah, it’s because I’m right,” Roger added.

“I happen to side with you, Brian, dear,” Freddie interjected before it could escalate again. “So it’s a tie.”

“We don’t have a tie breaker,” John said.

Freddie smirked. “Sure we do. Y/N.”

Your eyes snapped to his. “What?”

“What do you think, darling?” he asked. “Brian or Roger?”

“I have no opinion,” you said flatly.

“We all know that’s not true,” he returned.

“This is all very democratic of you,” you said with a sigh. “But if I participated in the making of the music I’m supposed to be evaluating, wouldn’t that create a conflict of interest?”

“Don’t be difficult, Y/N, just tell us what you think,” John said shortly.

You shot him a glare. “No.”

“Why should she decide?” Roger chimed in. “She doesn’t even like our music.”

“All the more reason to believe she’s being honest,” Freddie pointed out.

“Or just petty,” Roger muttered.

“Did you even hear what she just said?” Freddie said. “She’s got principles.”

“I have been described as annoyingly ethical,” you said.

“Principles be damned, I don’t give a shit what she thinks,” Roger said.

You shrugged.

Freddie turned to you. “Just for fun. Off the record. Who do you think is right?”

“Off the record,” you repeated firmly. “Roger is right.”

Roger threw you a surprised look before a smug smile claimed his face. He looked triumphantly at Brian.

“What happened to not giving a shit what she thinks?” Brian spat.

“My opinion doesn’t count,” you reminded them. “It’s still a tie.”

Roger frowned. “Who was it that described you as annoyingly ethical?”

“My boss.”

“Smart man.”

“Look, let’s just count Y/N’s vote so we can move on,” John suggested.

“No,” you said. “You can’t.”

“Don’t worry, it was off the record,” Freddie said. “No one will know.”

“We’ll know,” you argued.

“And we shall all take it to the grave with us,” John said sarcastically. “Lest you be known as a music reviewer with a bloody opinion.”

“Oh, fuck y-” you began, but Freddie cut you off.

“Roger wins the popular vote,” he said. “Deaky, get in there and help them out.”

Your eyes bored hatred into John’s back as he entered the studio. You slumped back onto the couch, feeling a bit like a pouting child as you continued to observe them. John’s mouth was drawn downward as he grabbed his bass roughly. He licked his fingers before plucking at the strings. A motion that almost made you gasp. It was...sexy. You shook your head and crossed your legs with a huff.

You spent the rest of the day scratching your notes down harshly, lips pressed together with irritation. As they finished up, you started to put away your pen and paper. You slung your purse onto your shoulder and started to head out when your pocket knife slipped out of your bag and onto the floor. You reached down to pick it up, but John beat you to it. You snatched it out of his hand without even thanking him and stuffed it into your bag.

“Why are you carrying that?” he asked.

“Experience taught me I had to,” you replied.

“Experience?”

“I got fucking robbed, John, what do you want from me?”

“When?!” he wondered, eyes going wide.

“My first day in London,” you told him, unsure where this honesty was coming from.

You didn’t tell him that they man who did it made you strip, taking everything you had on you including your address book and money, so you shivered naked in an alley until a kind restaurant owner came out, saw the pathetic state you were in, and took you inside. She gave you a spare uniform and then offered you a job and a place at her flat until you could pay her back. Which you did in full. You also didn’t tell him you had only come to London looking for him.

His eyes searched yours. He found a hurt there that was bone deep. You were like a wounded dog, whimpering for a helping hand but prepared to bite the first one that touched you. Your glare was like bared fangs. Still, a part of him ached to reach out and risk you sinking your teeth in.

“That’s terrible,” he said, knowing exactly how lame it sounded.

You held his gaze. “I’ve been through worse.”

With that, you left the studio. John sighed and looked at the floor.

“She’s awfully cryptic, isn’t she?” Brian remarked.

“She’s so angry,” John said, half to himself.

“Forget about her,” Roger said, clapping John’s shoulder. “Let’s get a drink, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed.

Meanwhile, you walked to the pub you usually patronized in the evenings after work. It was actually the place you had worked after that first horrific night. The owner was still there and tended the bar on weeknights, so you went to see her. She always offered you a drink for free, but you never took it. She had already done too much for you.

“Y/N!” she called as you came through the door.

You beamed at her. “Cora!” You came around the bar to embrace her. “How are you?”

“I’m just fine for an old lady,” she replied. “How are you, my dear?”

You sighed, unsure how to answer her.

“I know that face,” she said. “You’re in need of a drink and conversation.”

“The drink I could use,” you replied. “The conversation, I’m not so sure about.”

She poured you your favorite, gin and tonic. You took a sip and thanked her.

“I’ll be right back, darlin’, just gotta pop in the back and get some wine glasses,” she said.

You stood up. “I’ll get them, Cora.”

“You don’t work here anymore, love,” she said with a grateful laugh.

“I’ll always take care of you,” you returned. “Besides, the doctor said you shouldn’t strain your back.”

You set your drink on the bar and then headed into the dish pit.

While you were in the back, Freddie, Brian, Roger, and John walked in. They took seats at the bar, leaving a few chairs between themselves and where your bag and drink sat. John thought it was yours, but wasn’t quite sure. Cora walked over to them and took their drink orders. You emerged again, carrying the rack of glasses and groaned when you spotted the band. Still, you brought the dishes behind the bar.

“Oh, Y/N,” said Freddie. “Do you work here too?”

“What, writing rubbish about music not paying the bills?” Roger jabbed.

“Piss of, Roger,” you snapped. “I don’t work here, but I used to.”

“Are these friends of yours, Y/N?” Cora wondered, eyes flickering between you and the band.

“Cora, this is Queen,” you said gently. “I’m re-evaluating them.”

She released a delighted giggle and clapped her hands. “Oh, my! Well, it’s not every day we have real rock stars in our little pub! Welcome, lads!”

“Thank you, darling,” said Freddie.

Cora just grinned widely at him. A warm smile danced across your lips as you took in her excitement. John’s eyes landed on you and he saw, for a fleeting moment, the girl he knew. But at that moment, a man approached you and asked you to join him at his table. You agreed, wiggling your fingers at Cora as she watched you cross the room.

“You two seem very close,” Brian said casually. “How long did she work here?”

“Just over a year, actually,” Cora said. “But she lived with me too.”

“How did that happen?” John wondered.

“Well, I found her right outside this building,” she explained. She told them all how she found you, to their shock. Even Roger felt pretty sorry for you.

“I couldn’t just leave her out there, shivering and alone,” she continued. “My Christian heart wouldn’t let me. So I took her in. But she took care of herself really once she started to make some money. I know she did some...unsavory things to earn the extra. I offered to help her, but she refused to take even one penny from me.”

“Why didn’t she just go home?” Roger asked.

Cora shrugged. “She said - and I’ll never forget the words she used - ‘I came to London looking for someone. He’s lost, so I’ll find myself instead.’ Seemed quite poetic to me. I knew from there she’d be a writer.”

“Did she ever tell you who it was she was looking for?” Freddie asked, glancing at John.

“No,” she answered, shaking her head. “She refused to speak of him. Some chap from her hometown, though, that’s all I knew.”

At that moment, you came back over to tell Cora goodbye, since you were leaving with the man from before. You kissed her cheek before turning to the band.

“See you lot in the morning, I suppose,” you said.

They gave you odd looks, but you pushed your confusion away. You left with David, heading back to your flat, which wasn’t far from the bar. But as you took David up the stairs to your front door, the look in John’s eyes haunted you. Something like pity swam behind them. Pity mixed with guilt. It infuriated you.

Then David’s chapped lips were on yours, cracked and unpleasant. He shoved his talentless tongue into your mouth as he pushed you gently onto your bed. You bunched your skirt up to your hips so he could tug your panties off, but he stopped.

“Would you suck me off first?” he asked.

You smirked. “You wanna keep your cock?”

“W-what?”

“If you wanna keep your cock, keep it the fuck out of my face,” you warned.

“Shit, alright,” he gasped.

“Now take my knickers off and fuck me.”

He obeyed, pulling his pants down to his ankles. You weren’t quite wet enough so it stung a little when he pushed into you, but you bit your lip through it. Only, his fucking was as awkward as his kissing. His thrusts were sloppy, and he failed to even graze your g-spot. Your clit, he completely ignored. He clearly thought he was doing great from the noises coming out of his mouth. Gasps and groans, and some semblance of dirty talk that you didn’t even hear. You sighed, exasperated, and pushed him off of you.

“You’re shit,” you said. “Get out.”

“What the fuck?!” he cried breathlessly.

“Get your pants on and get out of my house,” you ordered.

“I’m still hard,” he complained.

“That’s not my problem,” you returned.

He narrowed his eyes at you and scrambled off the bed. He tucked himself into his trousers and glared at you as he put his shoes back on.

“You’re a real bitch, you know that?”

You grimaced at him. “So I’ve heard. Bye now.”

He muttered under his breath some more as he left, slamming the door behind him. You got up and followed, locking the door just in case. Then you returned to your bed. Flopping onto your back, your mind showed you John’s eyes again. You remembered kissing John all those years ago. The ways his eyes looked the first time you’d kissed him.

You pictured John now. Different, but much the same. More talented, less awkward. You remembered him licking those fingers of his before playing his bass. His mouth in a slight pout as he focused. Your skin felt hot. Your lower stomach churned with desire. You dipped your finger between your thighs and pressed onto your clit.

“John…” you sighed.

Wednesday What a shame it is that the rock I thought you were turned out to be sand

You arrived to the studio early the next morning. It was raining heavily as thunder rolled in the distance. Cosmically, John was the only other person there. You didn’t let the fact that you’d gotten off to the thought of him throw you. You just took your seat on the couch, ringing out your hair, and waited in silence with him. You pulled out the book you were reading and dove in. The only sound was the patter of the rain on the roof.

“Why didn’t you tell me what happened to you when you came to London?” he asked suddenly.

You snapped the book shut and looked at him icily. “I didn’t realize that was any of your business.”

“I know you’re not this person,” he said. “When you looked at Cora yesterday, you were yourself again.”

“You don’t know anything about who I am, John Deacon,” you said. “A lot has changed since we left Oadby.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“You’re assuming you have a right to an answer.”

“I think I do have a right,” he said hotly. “A lot of this anger you’ve got is clearly directed at me. Maybe if you stopped biting everyone’s head off and talked about it, you wouldn’t be so pissed off.”

There was that look again. The pity guilt combination that made your stomach roil.

“Fine,” you snipped. “You wanna know what happened to me? Yes, I got robbed and left naked behind a building. I took a job as a waitress to scrape by and pay back a fraction of debt I owed Cora. And there were a few regulars at the bar who I fucked for money. Anything else?”

“How’d you get a writing position?” he asked levelly.

“One of the regulars introduced me to an editor friend of his,” you said. “I submitted my first article to him, and he took me on. I got better and was eventually offered the job I’ve got now.”

“Okay, how is any of this my fault?”

“Is that what you think?” you laughed. “I don’t blame you for any of that shit. You weren’t even in my life anymore.”

“Then why are you so angry at me?!” he demanded, getting to his feet.

You jumped up too. “I’m angry at you because you lied to me!”

“What?!”

“You did!” you cried. “You broke up with me, and it broke my heart. But it was okay because we were supposed to be friends. And yet I was the only one who made any effort. Then suddenly you were off to London and then I never heard a thing from you! And I wrote you every day! Every day until I came here looking for you! And you promised you’d write to me, John!” You choked on his name as your throat got thick with the old wound.

“You promised,” you repeated with childish stubbornness.

“I’m sorry,” he said earnestly.

You rolled your eyes. “What do you want from me, John? My forgiveness?”

“Well, it was only letters,” he said.

“Only letters?” you repeated quietly. “John, it’s not about the letters. It’s the fact that you didn’t give enough of a shit about me to pick up a goddamn pen. Our relationship meant that little to you. I meant that little to you.”

You had scarcely gotten the words out when Roger and Brian walked in, both rain soaked, and flicking water off their coats. They were already quarrelling about something regarding the song again. You and John turned eyes on them.

“Y/N, what do you think, off the record -” Roger began, but you cut him off.

“Oh, no,” you said. “I’m not falling for that again.”

“Damn, I don’t know how else I’m gonna win this one,” he muttered.

You giggled. All eyes fell on you as you clapped a hand over your mouth.

“Y/N, did you just laugh?” Roger asked, a smile on his face.

“No,” you insisted, but the corners of your mouth were still turned slightly up.

“I think she did,” Brian added.

“Could it be that there’s a real, human heart in that chest?” Roger continued. “I thought it was just a hunk of ice.”

“Shut up,” you said through another laugh, but they let you have that one.

“Is Fred here yet?” Brian asked John.

John shook his head. “Late, as usual.”

You and John locked eyes briefly before you started getting out your pen and paper again. Freddie arrived within a few minutes, and they got right to work. You did actually admire their focus and professionalism. They took their craft seriously. More seriously than most musicians you had met. And you had met a great deal of them.

Today they had fewer arguments. It seemed that the rain was making everyone too tired to fight. That was more than okay with you. You couldn’t stand the bickering, especially between Brian and Roger. You wondered how they were the founders of the band since they rarely seemed to agree on a concept for a song. It was maddening to listen to.

John was stuck somewhere between staring intensely at you or avoiding you like the plague. The conversation from before was not a comfortable one, and it was so clearly unfinished. Unsaid words hung between you like clothes on a line. When your eyes did meet, it was like stepping onto a balance beam. You were unsteady and wobbly, but clinging to the very thing that put you there.

By the afternoon, you heard a rough run through of a new song. You would never, ever tell them this, but you liked it.

When the day was over, you packed up your things and for the first time, the band said goodbye to you. Roger only offered a wave, while Brian and Freddie said the words. John actually asked if he could walk you out.

“I can get to the door myself, thanks,” you said.

You weren’t sure where you two stood after the morning’s conversation. You feared another emotional line of questioning.

“Please,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Alright, then.”

You walked down the hall together, but he was behaving strangely. He kept glancing into every doorway you passed, and would sigh when there were people inside. When you reached the end of the corridor, he pulled open the door to what appeared to be a closet. He took another quick look around before pushing you inside.

“John, what the hell?!” you demanded as he shut the door.

“I want to speak in private,” he said.

He reached up and pulled the string to turn the light on. It was a tight space. Your bodies were pressed together, chest to chest. It made heat rise in your cheeks to be so close to him. You looked up to meet his eyes. When had he gotten so tall?

John swallowed as he looked down at you. The feeling of your breasts against him was enough to drive him crazy.

“I still feel like there’s something you’re not telling me,” he said, focusing on your face.

He was so close you could feel his breath on your face.

“I don’t have to tell you everything,” you returned.

“Y/N, please,” he groaned. “We were going so well this morning.”

“Well?” you questioned.

“Yes, you were opening up,” he said. “You’d softened to the point where you laughed.”

You sighed. “That was a fluke.”

“Come on, Y/N,” he said. “Tell me one thing.”

“What do you want to know?”

“After you had some money, why didn’t you go back home?” he wondered. “Why put yourself through all of this? You could have been back with you mum -”

“She left, John,” you said. “She left me in the middle of the night.”

John knew already that your father was not in your life. You and your mother were on your own back in Oadby. She had made quite a life for herself and seemed devoted to you. This revelation clearly shocked John, as he would have stumbled backward had there been space to do so.

“She left you?”

You nodded. “Yes. She left a note that said she couldn’t do ‘this’ anymore and she was leaving, but she knew I would be okay. I started to write you, but you hadn’t been answering my letters, so I took the money she left me and came looking for you. Because I needed my friend. I needed you, John.”

Emotion threatened to overwhelm you again. This was something you had never told anyone. Not even Cora.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I left you in the dark...I’m so, so sorry.”

“Just tell me why,” you breathed back.

“Because I missed you so much,” he told you.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. “If you missed me, why would you ignore me?”

“I couldn’t ask you to be with me again,” he said. “It wasn’t fair.”

“Elaborate on that.”

“I wasn’t sure that I was going to be successful,” he said. “I didn’t know if I wanted to have a career in electronics, and music was still something so unsteady. All I wanted was to be with you again, but I didn’t want you to give up home and security. I didn’t think I was worth it.”

“So you thought the solution was to just shut me out?” you said. “Without even telling me why?”

A tear slid down your cheek, catching you by surprise. Gently, John brought his thumb to your face and wiped it away. The feeling of his touch made goosebumps erupt over your skin and sent a shiver down your spine. And yet, anger sat on your stomach.

“That is a piss poor excuse, John,” you spat.

“I was a kid,” he argued.

“We’re the same age, and I knew better,” you said.

“I said I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what else I can do.”

You held his gaze for a moment. You didn’t know what else he could do either. Your feelings weren’t clear to yourself. You weren’t sure you were at a place where you could forgive him. As you looked into his eyes, you wanted to. You desperately wanted to. His eyes flicked down to your lips. Slowly, he began to lean forward. Your heart hammered against your chest and cheeks warmed as he inched closer. You were suddenly absurdly aware of his hand on your face. His eyes began to close and you pressed your hand to his chest.

“John, wait,” you said, sounding even less sure than you felt.

He opened his eyes and looked at you questioningly.

“I can’t do this,” you told him. “I don’t know how I feel about you.”

His hand trailed down to your neck, his fingers grazing your sensitive skin. You sucked in a breath. He noticed, but he let you off the hook.

“I know how I feel about you,” he said. “I don’t like the ice queen we met earlier this week. But the woman you are beneath that is someone I’d like to know again.”

He pressed his lips to your cheek and you closed your eyes at the contact. When you opened them again, he was pushed the door to the closet open. He offered his hand so he could help you out. You accepted, needing the balance to step over all the items on the floor. As you headed to the front of the building, you said nothing else to each other. When you reached the door, you faced him again.

“Have a good evening, John,” you said.

“You too, Y/N,” he replied.

He gave you hand a small squeeze and then left. You took a deep breath and went out the door. The sun shone. The sky had cleared.

Thursday Maybe you should get your shit together

You sat in the studio taking notes, your eyes flicking between your notebook and John. He occasionally looked back at you, in which case you would look sharply away. You had to bite your lip to keep from smirking. You couldn’t tell if he noticed or not.

You were a little embarrassed at how quickly the band hand begun to sway your opinion. You usually considered your opinion resolute. Perhaps it was growth that you could change your mind. About Queen, and the desires of your own heart.

Suddenly, Charles walked in. He was carrying your notepads from the last three days and looking livid. He waved them in your face. You shot him a confused and offended look.

“What?” you snapped. “Is there a problem?”

“You’re damn right there’s a problem!” he cried. “Is this really all you’ve got from the last three days?”

“That’s three notepads full,” you replied. “You really think I’m keeping stuff from you?”

“Do not sass me, girl!” he shouted.

Quietly, the band came into the room, though neither you nor Charles noticed, too caught up in the argument to see.

“Don’t call me girl!” you retorted, getting to your feet.

“Look, I didn’t give you this assignment so you could give me this choir boy version of the band!” he continued.

“Roger literally does coke on the second day, but yeah, I got choir boys,” you spat. “I’m writing the truth -”

“LISTEN!” he bellowed. “I told you I needed an exposure! Something to fill the headlines! A take down piece! So unless you wanna put some heels on and fuck me for an hour, you better stop acting like a little bitch!”

It was like all the air was sucked out of the room. The words had hardly left his mouth when John tackled him to the ground. He drilled his fist into Charles’s face repeatedly. You watched through teary eyes as John defended you. Blood burst from Charles’s nose as John’s fist made hard contact, over and over again. Charles was resisting weakly, blindsided by this attack.

“John!” you cried, reaching for him. “Stop! Stop it!”

Brian grabbed your arm to keep you out of it. Freddie and Roger stepped in to drag John off, but he struggled against them. You stared at him, amazed and horrified. Charles got slowly to his feet, shaking as he peeled himself off the floor. He glowered at John, breathing heavily. Then he wiped his bloody face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“You will be hearing from my lawyer,” he growled. He rounded on you. “And you, little groupie whore, are fired.”

You blinked, letting a tear fall down your cheek, and bit your lip to hold back the sob threatening to escape from your throat. Charles spat on the floor before limping out of the room. Roger flipped him off as he held John back. Freddie just sighed. Brian turned eyes on you.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you choked out. Then you looked at John. “Let him go, guys. I need to speak to him.”

Freddie and Roger released John’s arms. He shrugged them off and followed you out of the booth and down the hall to an unoccupied office. John looked expectantly at you as you turned to face him.

“Close the door, please,” you requested.

He did. As soon as it clicked shut, you flared up.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” you demanded. “We’ve spent all week despising each other and now you’re fighting some guy because he insulted me?! Who are you?! I don’t know where your head is at at any given time! How can you -”

He cut you off with a searing kiss. Your eyes fell shut as his lips moved against yours and you plunged your hands into his hair. It was frenzied and needy, all teeth and tongue. His hands slid over your shoulders before he grabbed your breasts and squeezed. You moaned into his mouth, feeling like you might faint.

He pulled back from your lips to pepper kisses down your neck. He nipped at your soft skin before swirling his tongue around the same spot to soothe it. High, breathy moans fell from your lips as he went. You pressed yourself closer to him and you could feel his hardening cock against your stomach. It sent a powerful jolt of arousal to your core. Your panties dampened.

“Mmm, John,” you sighed.

When you said his name, it fanned the fire in him. He grabbed you roughly, turned you around, and pushed you against the desk. You let out a small squeak of surprise as he bent you over. He yanked your skirt up around your waist, revealing your legs and thong to him. You shivered as the air hit your warm skin. John ran a hand up the back of your thigh, making you tremble with anticipation. He moved his hand away only to bring it back down sharply on your ass. The sound cracked like a whip in the empty room and a guttural moan tore from your throat. It only made you that much wetter.

“So damn strong willed, Y/N,” John growled into your ear, rubbing your stinging skin. “But this is what you really want, isn’t it? Someone to take care of you?”

You judged yourself a little for the pathetic whine that came out of your mouth. He wrapped his arm around you and dipped his hand into your underwear. Quickly, he ran his fingers up and down your slit, coating them in your wetness.

“Oh, God,” you moaned as his pointer finger found your clit.

You took hold of his arm, gripping it tight as the pleasure built. He made light circles on your clit, picking up speed with each rotation.

“F-fuck, John!” you cried. “Feels so good!”

“I see the way you watch me play,” he teased. “How badly you want these fingers inside you, princess, huh?

“Please, please, please,” you begged.

His middle finger nudged your entrance. “Fuck, you’re so sexy begging for me.”

Finally, he sank it into you. You groaned and your head slumped forward, lost in the feeling of it. He pumped in and out of you, slowly at first as he curled his finger into your g-spot. The heel of his hand put pressure on your clit and you saw stars.

“So bloody proud,” he said, kissing your shoulder softly. “But so needy.”

You couldn’t answer him. Your brain couldn’t even form words. His hand was working you right up to your orgasm. When he added a second finger you nearly screamed.

“M’close,” you mewled. “So close, John - fuck!”

You were clenching around his fingers, hurtling toward the edge. He sped up. You were grateful for the desk beneath you because your legs completely gave out.

“Go on then,” he encouraged. “Cum for me, princess.”

His permission was all you needed. You came completely undone with a choked cry of his name, riding out your high on his hand. As you came down, your whole body shook. He kept his hand at your center, lazily stroking your folds.

“Ready for my cock?” he asked, grazing your clit again and making your hips twitch.

You nodded.

“Need to hear you say it,” he urged.

“Yes, please, John,” you whined. “Want you to fuck me…”

You caught your breath as he unzipped his trousers and pulled your thong down to your ankles. You moaned when he pressed his tip against your entrance. All your senses were heightened by the pleasure coursing through you. The head of his cock right at your core, the silky feeling of his shirt against your back, the tickle of the ends of his hair on your cheek. All of it was just John.

He pushed slowly into you. He was quite big, but you were so wet, he met little resistance. You groaned as he entered. He filled you up, bottoming out inside you and he stopped so you could adjust.

“You’re so tight,” he hissed. “Fuck.”

“Move, please,” you told him.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He started at an easy pace, but quickly picked up. He must have been needier than you realized because his cock twitched inside you. So he was close. His finger found your clit again, circling it to the rhythm of his hips. His free hand gripped one of yours, interlocking your fingers. He pounded into you, his tip hitting your g-spot and making you whimper with every thrust.

“Can I - hng, fuck - can I cum inside you?” he asked breathlessly.

Just the thought of it made you squeeze around him and he let out the filthiest groan.

“Yes - oh, God - yes,” you practically sobbed.

One, two, three more thrusts, and you finished together, his hot cum coating your pulsing walls as he collapsed above you. You were shivering from the intensity of two such rapid orgasms, so his weight warmed and stilled you. He pressed his lips to your shoulders and neck, easing you down before he pulled out. You whimpered at the empty feeling. Then he pulled your underwear back up and readjusted your skirt. There was something touching about him redressing you before tucking himself back into his pants.

You just barely managed to push yourself off the desk. “John...that was…”

“Sorry I just pounced on you,” he said, looking at the floor.

“No, don’t apologize,” you said. “You were...you were incredible.”

“I just had to have you,” he replied bashfully.

You smiled. “John, I’ve never…”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“I’ve never orgasmed from a partner before,” you admitted.

“What?!” he gasped. “Never?!”

“That’s what I said,” you replied.

“Even when we - y’know - before?”

You laughed. “John, we were teenagers. No, I didn’t fucking cum. But you certainly made up for it now.”

It was his turn to smile. Then, he took your hand and pulled you close to kiss him. He was softer now. All anger and frustration gone. He rubbed your sides before wrapping his arms around you and just holding you close.

“Next time, we’ll make love properly,” he said into your hair.

“There’s going to be a next time?” you questioned.

“If you’ll let me,” he returned with a smirk. “You proud little thing.”

“I’m not so proud,” you said. “I did just let you bend me over a desk and fuck me.”

He chuckled. You returned to a comfortable silence and holding each other. You dug your fingers into his shirt as he embraced you. You buried your face in his chest. The girl you were - one who was hopeful, sweet, and romantic - was clawing her way out to meet the stronger woman you became. John’s return to your life showed you that they could exist together. His arms around you reminded you that she was a part of you and though you had changed - you both had - she was a remarkable and formative part of your story.

“I’m sorry again,” he said, pulling away to look in your eyes. “For letting you feel like I didn’t care about you. I thought about you all the time. And when your letters stopped, I hoped that you had found something that made you happy. I have only ever wanted that for you.”

You cupped his face in your hand. “I know that, John. I forgive you.”

“I like this woman, Y/N,” he said. “Who you are. Can we get reacquainted some more over dinner?”

“I would like that very much,” you said with a smile. “And I suppose it’s not a conflict of interest anymore since I’ve been fired.”

“Oh, shit.”

You shrugged. “It’s alright. I’m a good enough writer that I’ll get another job. Plus, I was going to have to eat my words and I really didn’t want to.”

“You were?!”

You nodded. “So thank you, John. You spared me that.”

He only laughed. You kissed him again.

“Actually, I think I will write the story,” you said. “We had an agreement. I’ll sell the story to another magazine. When the public eats it up, Charles will be sorry.”

He grinned, kissing your forehead. Then you left to go to your dinner date.

Friday I look pretty, I’m lookin’ pretty in my dress

The next morning, you woke up next to John. Your dinner date went well, and you brought him back to your apartment for more of what you called “making up for lost time.” You gazed at his sleeping face and wondered at your own heart. How quickly this man had softened you. You couldn’t help pressing your lips to his chest. But when you got close to him, you noticed that he was hard. You stifled a giggle and then gently nudged his chest.

“John,” you said. “John, wake up.”

“Ugh,” he groaned. “What is it, love?”

“Can I touch you?” you asked sweetly.

“Fuck, yeah, of course,” he said.

You sat up, straddling him across his legs. You brought your hand to his cock and just stroked it with your finger, looking up at him through heavily lidded eyes. You kissed his chest again. Softly, you nipped at his collar bone before trailing down to his tummy. Your tongue flicked out at the places that made him moan. When you reached his hips, you wrapped your hand around his shaft and he arched up with a soft gasp.

You never understood what men loved so much about fucking a woman’s mouth. You understood even less why women willingly gave men head. It brought them no pleasure. For the first time in your life, you willingly took a man’s tip past your lips. The beautiful little whine that came out of John’s mouth made it make sense. The knowledge that you made him feel this good was incredibly hot. You rubbed your thighs together for some friction.

You lowered your mouth onto him, taking him all the way down until his tip hit the back of your throat. You hummed around him and he whined, holding himself back from bucking up. He had no idea how grateful you were for his allowing you control in this situation. You bobbed up and down, taking his cock as deep as possible with every stroke.

“Fucking Christ, Y/N,” he sighed. “Your mouth is incredible.”

You didn’t answer, but kept going. You couldn’t believe what giving him this kind of pleasure was also doing to you. The sounds me made, the way he looked with his head thrown back and mouth hanging open...it was sexy as hell.

You reached up to massage his balls and he couldn’t stop his hips from jumping at the contact. He apologized, but you waved him down. You continued. He finally pulled you off him because he was so close.

“S’okay,” you said. “I want to finish you off with my mouth.”

“Fuuuuck,” he groaned.

You smirked before taking him down again. You went a little faster now, eager to get him there. His chest became as flushed as his cheeks.

“Ah - Y/N - I’m -”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence, as he released inside you. You swallowed as you worked his cock through his high. He panted beneath you. You came up with a soft pop and showed him your empty mouth.

“Oh, God,” he shuddered. “You’re so sexy.”

“That was fun,” you said with a smile. “You got so worked up.”

“It felt good,” he returned simply.

“I never understood before why blowjobs were fun,” you told him.

He just looked quizzically up at you.

“Never mind,” you said, shaking your head.

He didn’t press you, which you appreciated. You didn’t want to talk about that now anyway. Without warning, he gripped you by the hips and flipped you over. You yelped with surprise.

“What are you doing?” you wondered.

“Returning the favor,” he said.

He kissed your lower tummy, exploring your skin and making you giggle. Then he turned his attention to your thighs. You rocked your hips up toward him impatiently.

“Relax,” he said.

“I didn’t tease you like that,” you reminded him.

“Never said I was playing far,” he shot back.

Even so, he finally licked a stripe up your slit, making your hand jump to his hair. He swirled his tongue around your clit and you sucked in a breath. Your heels dug into the mattress as he built up speed. Then he lined up his fingers with your entrance.

“So wet already,” he said. “You enjoyed sucking me off that much?”

“Shut up,” you groaned.

He chuckled and returned his mouth to your throbbing clit. He pushed two fingers inside of you and curled them perfectly. It was almost overwhelming how good he made you feel. No one had ever gotten you this aroused before. You couldn’t even get this hot on your own. John brought out something primal in you that made you just melt to his touch. He knew what the fuck he was doing and did it well. Your toes curled as heat spread through you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said.

You looked down and met his gaze. His pupils were blown wide with lust, but adoration lingered behind it. He kissed your clit as he maintained eye contact and you nearly finished from that.

“John, please,” you whined.

“Don’t hold back for me, Y/N,” he said. “Fucking cum if you need to.”

“Faster,” you instructed.

He obeyed. He devoured you like a starved man as his fingers pumped in and out at an almost brutal pace. Your mouth fell open and you began writhing beneath him.

“John - John - oh - fuck!” you cried.

“Like I said, cum when you’re ready,” he told you again.

“Close,” you sobbed.

Your orgasm washed over you, your body jerking as is wracked through your muscles. John let you ride it out on his face. When you stilled, he crawled back over you, kissing you deeply. You tasted yourself on him.

“You want to keep going?” he asked. “I could get it up again if you want.”

You shook your head. “After yesterday, last night, and now I can’t take anymore.”

“Alright, love,” he said, settling beside you and pulling you under his arm to spoon.

“Don’t you have to be at the studio?” you wondered.

“We can lay here a while longer,” he assured you. “I don’t…” he trailed off.

You turned your head to look at him. “What?”

“I don’t want you to ever again feel like I’m abandoning you,” he said sheepishly. “Even for the small stuff.”

“Oh, John,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

When you did go to the studio, you arrived together, hand in hand. Roger, Brian, and Freddie looked at your hands, then your faces, and back again.

“What’s this?” Freddie asked.

“We got reacquainted,” John said.

You beamed.

“Who is this?” Roger questioned, looking at you. “A smile? Who are you and what have you done with the real Y/N Y/L/N?”

“The real Y/N Y/L/N is whoever I want her to be,” you said. “I’ll still call you a pixie, Taylor. I’ll just smile while I do it.”

“That sounds more like it,” he returned with a smirk.

“Well, Y/N, what are you doing here?” Brian asked. “I mean, you were fired.”

You explained to them what you told John. You were going to write the article as a freelance writer. You were certain another magazine would be interested.

“And what is this article going to say?” Freddie wondered.

“You’ll have to wait and find out,” you said. “It’s not ethical to let your subjects read the piece before it’s published.”

“It’s also not ethical to fuck your sources,” Roger pointed out, grinning.

You and John exchanged shocked looks.

“You weren’t exactly quiet,” Brian said.

Your face went bright red as Freddie laughed. Before long, you were all laughing with him. It was rather funny.

As they prepared for their day, you took out your paper and pen again. You weren’t sure exactly what you were going to say about Queen after seeing what they did. You weren’t sure how you could convey their style and friendship. You weren’t sure you could get it all in one article. But you knew you would somehow. There had to be words to describe Queen.

That night, Freddie hosted a party at his house and invited you to attend. You told John you would meet him there, since you weren’t sure who else was going to be there and you still had to pitch the article.

As you got ready in your room, throwing on a beautiful red dress with some strappy heels, you became a bit nervous. You wondered if Charles had told others in the industry about what happened. But you didn’t know how you came out of it looking like the bad guy if he told the truth. That was the hang up. Had he told the truth?

You decided firmly to forget about that and just have a good time tonight. What would come, would come. You had faced much worse and stayed strong. You could do so now.

When you arrived at Freddie’s, he answered the door. He greeted you with a kiss on the cheek before leading you inside to meet some of his other friends. It was crowded, which made you nervous, but you kept your eyes peeled for John. When you entered the living room, you spotted him. His smile faltered as he saw you in your dress. You couldn’t help but smirk.

He walked over, a hungry look in his eye. “You look incredible.”

“Thank you,” you said with a grin.

He kissed your cheek. Your skin lit up at his touch.

“The dress looks great, but I really can’t wait to take it off you,” he whispered in your ear.

You shivered as you took his hand. Roger approached, so John just slipped an arm around your waist and faced his friend.

“Wow, Y/N,” Roger said. “You clean up nice.”

“You too, Rog,” you returned.

You chatted and mingled for the night. The whole time, John was at your side, with a hand on you. Whether it was your waist, your back, your arm - it didn’t matter. You felt him there with you. Reassuring and safe.

You went back to your place afterward, unable to keep your hands off of each other. By the time you were through the door, your dress was halfway off and John’s shirt was undone. Your mouths crashed together as your hands roamed each other’s bodies. Then he pulled away.

“Y/N, hold on,” he said. “I want to talk to you about something.”

Your brow furrowed as you looked at him. “What is it?”

“What do you want from this?” he asked.

“What?”

“I love what we’re doing,” he said. “I’m just wondering if it’s...more than it is.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“Are we in a relationship?” he asked outright.

He was suddenly the John from home. Unsure, but hopeful. You vividly recalled the day he first asked you to be his girlfriend. He was so shy and a bit awkward. You were so endeared by him. You felt that again as he looked at you now. Overwhelmingly, you wanted to be his again.

“I know I hurt you before,” he said. “So I understand if you’re hesitant, but -”

You cut him off with a sweet kiss.

“John, if I didn’t want to be with you, I wouldn’t,” you said. “As it is, I do. So, if a relationship is what you want, then that’s what I want too.”

His smile was like sunshine. You could have melted into a puddle right there. Then, of course, he absolutely ravished you.

Two Weeks Later

“Have you all seen this?” Roger wondered as he entered the studio, carrying a fresh magazine.

“Y/N’s article came out?” Brian asked.

Roger nodded.

“How’d she do?” Freddie questioned.

“Listen,” Roger began. “‘Queen is a unique band made up of unique individuals. Their differences work together to create some of the most cohesive work in rock music. No matter the year or the style, Queen sounds like Queen. And not just because of frontman Freddie Mercury’s unmistakable and outstanding voice. The work of guitarist Brian May, drummer Roger Taylor, and bassist John Deacon are vital parts a body of work that is more than signature. It’s a fingerprint. All of this is made possible by the professionalism and hard work of one of the greatest rock bands I have had the pleasure of seeing in action.’ She goes on, of course.”

Brian took the article and scanned it. “She really is a great writer.”

“I’m just glad she’s on our side now,” Freddie said. “What do you think, Deaky?”

John shrugged. “What can I say, I’m proud of her. That’s my girl.”

541 notes · View notes

matchaboi · 4 years ago

Text

Hanahaki Disease

Perhaps it is just a fantasy, but what if it is actually a real thing?

Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease, where the victim coughs up flower petals, thanks to one-sided love that the victim suffer from. Well, who would’ve thought that beautiful things could be this deadly. The disease ends when the one that they love return their feelings, or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear.

This trope has several variations, and is used in both happy and tragic stories. It often develops over months or even years, beginning with coughing up a few petals and growing in intensity and pain until the victim is vomiting entire flowers, by which point the disease has entered its final stages.

The happy ending version is when the object of the victim's love returns their affections, thus making the love no longer unrequited. The victim is then cured of the disease. This may happen spontaneously when the object of affections realizes their love, or the disease may require the object to persuade the victim that their love is mutual. If the victim cannot believe that his beloved returns their love, they will die.

Another popular version is when the victim's lungs get filled with the flowers and roots grow in their respiratory system. They choke on their own blood and petals, and die. It is popular due to the angst that comes with character death

There are also works where the flowers are surgically removed, as are the victim's feelings of love, meaning they can no longer love the person they once loved. Sometimes this also removes their memories of the former beloved, or the victim's ability to ever love again. Often, the one suffering the disease will refuse the surgery, preferring to die rather than losing their feelings.

Love is a gamble. We will never know what will we truly get from our beloved ones. It could be pure love, which each and everyone of us wanted, or maybe it could be the opposite. One-sided love, fake love, love without feelings, sympathetic love, you name it. These different kinds of love would grow different types of flowers in your respiratory system as well. It could grow roses, where everything is red and pretty, but thorny and could puncture the victim’s lungs until the point they can’t inhale fresh oxygen anymore. Love could grow yellow carnations as well, where your love story contains disdain or rejection. A petal of this flower is enough to make the victim feel sick to their stomach. It doesn’t matter if you have the purest intention in the world to love someone, because if the feelings are just one-sided, you will feel nothing but lungs that filled with flowers.

It is a never-ending what ifs scenario. There will always be some cases or actions that we thought we could’ve take to make it better. Once you started to think about that, you will feel anxious about your decision making throughout your life. Perhaps going well with the flow could be the best choice, but what if you take a step out of your comfort zone and try to risk it all for something that you wanted?

the power of what ifs :)

Going back to the disease, this is my choice. If it is a real thing, and I’m having an unrequited love over someone, I will choose to end my life. Why? Well, imagine living your life with lungs full of flowers. You can’t breathe. For me, I’m the type that will love someone wholeheartedly, risking everything to get what I wanted. To be honest with you, it is not a good thing to have this trait. You will have nothing left to spend for yourself if your plans didn’t work out. This Hanahaki disease would surely keep on growing inside of me every second because I would always remember her; the way she smiles from ear to ear, how she tilts her head back when she is laughing and the scent of her favorite perfume. There’s no way that I could forget everything about her. I don’t want to live my life in pain. If I choose to do surgery, I would lose my romantic feelings, but still, if she crosses my mind after the surgery, the pain would still be there. The memories would still live inside my mind, even though I did not feel a damn thing. Will I carry on the same repetitive surgery for the rest of my life? Definitely not. That’s why I choose to take my life away. Maybe, if I could wake up with amnesia after the surgery, I would be just fine. But, the probability of that scenario to happen is somewhat close to impossible.

But still, you own your own life. You are free to do anything you want. But if there’s one thing that I could tell every single soul in this world, I’ll tell everyone to not fall so deep into the thing we call love, because there are so many unknown that we didn’t know, even though they give you words and show actions that are believable for you to call it love. Keep your guards up because life is so dangerous. Most importantly, love yourself and NEVER lose yourself no matter what. If you do, find your true self first. Take the time you need and don’t rush anything. Life is not a race that you should win, it’s a journey.

Hanahaki disease is a genuine reminder for us humans that love could be deadly and risky. If you encounter one, please, be careful. Even salt looks like sugar :)

#hanahaki #thoughts #depresssion #love #life #sad

3 notes · View notes

planetsam · 6 years ago

Text

Michael Guerin, Space Pirate

Huge shout out to @signoraviolettavalery who made a great post about a Martian au that I cranked up the angst on by deciding Alex would be a great space voyeur to Michael’s space pirate.

Being stuck on the graveyard shift feels oddly appropriate.

He thinks Michael would have loved the irony of it.

Alex takes a long drink from his coffee. He watched the launch after it happened, in one of the staff break rooms. He didn’t think much of it, only the 3AM shift he had the next morning was on his mind. Now he wishes things were different. Not that he fully expected his high school fling to remember him, or to realize that he was working for NASA as well. Alex is in SatCom, he monitors their satellites. Eyes in the sky, some people call him, but he likes to think of himself as an Interplanetary Voyeur. Most of his education and training goes to waste. He didn’t mind it when he felt like he was a part of something bigger than himself, making sure that everyone got home safely.

Now when he looks at the red planet, all he thinks is how Michael finally got his wish.

Michael always wanted to be part of something bigger. He also wanted to get the hell off the planet. Alex remembers their endless conversations about it, laying under the real stars when they could and the fake, tacked on stars when they couldn’t. Michael found his way off the planet. And was the most popular astronaut to boot. He was the only one surprised at that. Alex saw his face everywhere. Each time it kicked up a gut punch of emotions. Mostly now it was a sadness that was far too familiar when it came to him, to them—now though there was a finality to it. The idea that Michael would be bones on Mars and the only way Alex would ever see him was in old footage was borderline incomprehensible. For the moment Alex let himself not think about it and focus instead on his job. The storm had cleared and he focused on what they could see. It was highly unlikely they would ever see Michael’s body, the dust storm would have buried him. But Alex hopes he does. Michael deserves that closure.

Taking another hit of caffeine, he turns to scrolling through the pictures and cataloguing things that have shifted in the dust. He frowns and zooms in towards the HAB. Alex refines the pictures, teasing out a clearer image. He can picture the conversation in his head, he knows the exact arguments. He brings up the images from the past few days. The way things have shifted does not line up with what is in front of him. The solar panels should be completely covered, but they are clean. Spotless, or as spotless as anything gets on Mars. He looks again and triple checks just to make sure. The chance is impossibly slim. But his hand is already reaching for his phone. He thumbs in the number for security.

“I need the emergency contact number for Dr. Kapoor,” He says, “this is Alex Manes in SatCom.”

“Are you sure it’s an emergency?” The bored voice asks. Alex isn’t sure of anything at the moment.

“Yes,” He says instead.

The head of the mission is wildly above his pay grade and Alex has been raised to respect the chain of command. Why his violations of it seem intrinsically linked to Michael Guerin is something he doesn’t have the capacity to figure out at the moment. Not after the phone rings twice and he hears the man on the other end clear his throat. God, he’s woken his boss up at 3:35 am.

“Hello?”

“Hi, sir, this is Alex Manes in SatCom,” he says, “I think Michael Guerin is alive,” there is a distinct bang and a groan, a whispered apology and the sound of feet moving, “the solar panels are clean.”

“And you’re sure it’s not the wind?”

“Yes, sir,” he says, glancing up at the screen as the next round of images come through. He almost drops the phone, “sir, the Rover has moved.”

“What?!”

“The rover moved,” he says, scrambling to look at the photos again, “the solar panels are clean and the rover has moved.”

“I’ll be there shortly.”

Fuck. Mars.

Fuck it so hard.

Michael is over this planet. He wants off. Why he can’t find a planet he wants to stay on is beyond him and now definitely is not the time for those deep philosophical questions. He’s got more pressing issues like making sure the hole in his gut closes without infection, finding a way to supplement his food and, oh yeah, contact earth.

“Look, I’m not upset about being left behind,” he tells the log, “that’s protocol. What pisses me off is the fact that I’m doing everyone’s homework,” he shakes his head, “here’s my new universal constant: a group project will always end with one person doing all the work. We’ll call it Guerin’s Law.”

He has an idea for contacting earth. The problem is that it rides on earth knowing he’s contacting them. He’s got no idea if anyone has even figured out he’s alive. He doubts it. But there’s a chance. He knew it was bullshit but he had an affection for the dramatic Rover that gave it’s dying words and sang itself a birthday song every year. Michael has had plenty of those birthdays. And of course when he’s already doing everyone’s work, he now has to do the extra credit and pull off the save. If he doesn’t get an A, he’s fucking suing. He looks in the camera, aware this could be his last message.

“Captain Evans,” He says, “none of this is your fault, I forgive you for everything if that’s what you need to hear,” his solemn face turns deadly, “but if this doesn’t work and I die listening to your alarmingly inclusive Donna Summer, I will turn your life into the karaoke bar from hell.”

Seems like a good note to go out on.

Summer eat your heart out.

Alex looks over the chart again.

And again.

The spotlight is nerve wracking. They have established Michael is alive, but they don’t have a way of communicating. He knows Michael is trying to figure something out and everyone is scrambling to find it. He also knows he has an advantage. It’s been years, so many thing have changed, but he’s got a good idea of how Michael’s mind works. He follows the paths the Rover is making and connects the dots before anyone else.

“Opportunity?”

“It lines up,” he says, “he’s going for the Rover.”

“Let me make some calls.”

Thankfully the Opportunity team is largely still around. By the time Michael gets it up and working, they are ready. The images come in and patch together. Alex is awake for twenty hours straight but he’s there when the images come in. Michael standing in front of two signs and holding a third. Alex’s heart leaps into his throat and it’s got nothing to do with the truly staggering amount of coffee he has consumed. A cheer goes up and he sits down before his knees can do anything like buckle. Michael’s face is just visible. Alex can make out a single curl that’s half escaped from his cap and it’s always the little things. Michael is alive. They point the camera towards the ‘yes’ sign and the next image is blurry but only because he’s jumping up and down. He’s got no back up supplies and he’s jumping up and down.

Alex thinks he might be the one who dies in all of this.

OPP: Huston we had a problem.

DSN: Good to hear from you.

OPP: You have no idea.

So the communications issue is more or less resolved which is awesome. And he’s saved Opportunity. Which makes him even more awesome. All around it’s awesome. Except Isobel still thinks he’s dead which is less than ideal. So he’s in a little trouble on that one. But he would trade everything for her to yell at him. Not that he’s got a lot to trade.

OPP: hey, DSN whose babysitting me tonight?

DSN: SatCom

OPP: no shit

DSN: language

OPP: fuck

OPP: whose babysitting? got a name?

DSN: alex

OPP: i’m michael

DSN: i know

OPP: does this mean i’m super famous? think i can get free fries at the mess?

DSN: no it’s alex. from high school.

Michael is literally on a different planet but he jumps anyway and twists around like he’s being spied on. Alex was a punk kid who, okay, he may have been slightly in love with. But his homophobic dick of a dad ended that. He may have crossed Michael’s mind a few times, but never enough to do something like look him up and see that they worked for the same place. For some reason he feels more comforted by this news than he has by almost anything else. Except maybe that people knew he was alive at all.

OPP: no fucking way. i thought you said you were joining the Air Force.

DSN: i did. then I went to grad school and joined NASA.

OPP: wait SatCom figured out i was alive. was that you?

DSN: yes

DSN: i saw the solar panels were clear

OPP: and you thought that was me?

DSN: i figured even you would clean if your life depended on it.

Michael snorts, it’s not like he’s had much to clean back when he knew Alex. He was living in his truck. But when he thinks about his desk at NASA—okay it is a mess. He can admit that. It blows his mind that Alex has been here the whole time. That Alex figured out he was alive. He tries to reconcile the idea of who he remembers with whoever found him. But all he can picture is the kid who unknowingly saved his life more times than he can count. More times plus one, if he thinks about it. Probably plus more to come, if things keep going this way.

OPP: do you still have that septum ring?

DSN: go to sleep

OPP: come on, do you?

DSN: no

OPP: too bad, I thought it was kind of hot.

DSN: bed, michael

OPP: yes dad

DSN: please do not call me ‘dad’, they are reviewing these

OPP: ok daddy

Captain Isobel Evans reads the message several times to be sure. Then she gathers everyone together. She’s thought she was a good leader this whole time, focusing on getting the crew that was still alive back home even though the only thing she wanted to do was cry over the loss of her crew member. She runs the scenario over and over again. But it remains the same. There was no other choice. Now she doesn’t know what to think when she has to tell them. It’s only Max she looks at when she speaks.

“Michael’s alive.”

Pandemonium erupts from the others but Max stares at her. His own horror and guilt reflect hers. Michael is alive but he’s on another planet. Michael’s alive but who knows for how long. She made the call to leave him, but as the ship’s doctor he made the call that he was probably dead. They are both culpable and innocent, but Isobel blames herself more than anyone. She should have given the order to wait, no matter the risks. They all scramble over to the communications screen. Kyle gets there first because it is, after all, his chair. He refers to it as his ship too. Then again he is the one who flies it.

HRMS: sorry we left you on mars, we just don’t like you that much.

OPP: assholes

OPP: hows the cptn?

HRMS: we’re all good. how are you?

OPP: bored af

OPP: look. boobies ( . Y . )

HRMS: michael!

That night Max sits hunched over in his bunk, arms wrapped around himself. He never should have said that Michael was dead. But he and Isobel have been running over everything. But now it turns out Michael is alive and he can’t fathom what it must be like for him to be back there alone. Did he know that they would learn he was alive? Did he think he would die there a second time and no-one would know? The thoughts are horrible and each occurs to him in rapid succession until he thinks they might drive him crazy.

“Hey,” Liz slips into his pod, “how are you holding up?”

“I told Iz there was no way,” he says, “he’s been there the whole time and i had no idea—“ he stares at her, aware he is asking for answers she doesn’t have, “what if he dies there? How is he going to spend four years there until we launch another mission?”

“He’s going to be fine,” she says, cradling his face in her hands. He ignores the rules, the fraternization line they always dance around and leans into her touch, “he’ll be okay and soon you will laugh about this,” she smiles, “after you buy him all the vodka on earth.”

“I’ll buy him whatever he wants, as long as we get him back.”

OPP: alex

OPP: ALEX

DSN: i’m sorry, Alex has been transferred to SatCon.

OPP: GO GET HIM

Huddled in the Rover, Michael forces his breathing to be steady. He cannot afford for something else to go wrong. Behind him, the HAB stands as a shell, blown when he failed to pressurize it correctly. It broke. He broke it. His crops are gone and he feels like crying. Which is not going to help. He can’t panic. He can’t flip out. He wants Max and Isobel and his pod on the ship that’s getting farther away with each second. Mostly he wants the person on earth whose his lifeline in this. He forces himself to look away from the screen. Maybe Alex is asleep somewhere. Maybe he’s just as fed up with his bullshit as he was in college. Michael grips the chair. No, no he is not giving into his abandonment issues because he’s literally the only person on a planet and his only friend won’t answer the phone. Mars is his planet and he refuses to have them go down like this.

DSN: michael what happened?

“Thank you Martian God,” he breathes

OPP: the hab depressurized

OPP: i’m ok. crops are gone. all of its gone.

DSN: you’re ok. thats the main thing.

OPP: says the guy with seamless at his fingertips

DSN: i told you you were going to have to learn to cook one day

Michael laughs despite everything. And okay maybe it ends in a sob, but just one. Alex throwing shade like they’re texting and this isn’t a life or death situation makes him feel so much better. He knows Alex is probably hyperaware of being watched but he’s still willing to do it. Michael knows it shouldn’t be a big deal but he’s alone on a planet. The only person who can judge him is in a mirror and he sure as hell doesn’t bring one of those on the rover.

DSN: michael are you there?

OPP: i’m there i’m just outraged

OPP: i am an extraordinary boiler

DSN: do i want curly or regular fries with this sandwich?

OPP: asshole

OPP: thanks

DSN: hang in there

Maria Deluca, astrodynamicist extraordinaire figures it out.

She checks her math, swears loudly and breaks her almost new piece of chalk. Guerin is a planet away and he still manages to ruin her love life for at least—ugh—another year. Asshole. Why couldn’t he have just stayed on the ground with Alex like he wanted to? She writes out her calculations and tells the mission heads. Then she does the right thing and hides the info in the latest data dump for the ship, knowing her wife and her bff will figure it out.

That evening she finds Alex in SatCon.

He looks awful and she feels the same annoyance at Guerin. They’ve both slept with him and she might have had feelings for the mop haired cowboy at one point, but Guerin is good at leaving and being so focused on one thing that he fails to see anything else. Like an unhappy boyfriend or girlfriend. She sits next to Alex and hands him a cup of coffee.

“Any word from the space cowboy?”

“His food supplies are ok but the rations are getting to him,” he says, “part of its mental but the rest—“ he shakes his head, “he shouldn’t have to deal with his issues up there.”

Michael was food insecure for most of his childhood. He’s good at functioning on limited calories but he’s also scared of not getting his next meal. The fact that Alex remembers that makes Maria want to hug him. She settles for sighing and shaking her head at the situation. All of NASA has been reading their back and forth. For science. The fact that it reads increasingly like a romance novel is definitely not important. And people definitely aren’t taking sides. She doesn’t have a Team Alex t shirt like some people. Just a baseball cap.

“He’ll be okay,” she says.

Alex nods wordlessly but his eyes are glued to the screen where their communications occur. She nudges him.

“Say hi,” She says.

“I can’t. He needs to focus.”

“You can still say hi,” she says.

“It’s a waste of resources.”

Rolling her eyes at men and their excuses she nudges his chair out of the way and gets at the keyboard.

DSN: hi

“Maria!”

Ten seconds later the reply come.

OPP: hey i was just about to message you

OPP: you miss me that much?

“Maria—“ Alex tries for the keyboard.

DSN: always

Alex grabs it finally.

DSN: adokfjosiaf

OPP: you ok?

DSN: sorry. yes.

OPP: good. i miss you too.

Alex sucks in a breath and Maria grins. It’s almost almost worth another year with her wife. Not quite but almost. Alex gulps and stares at the message. His fingers hover over the keyboard as he hesitates, swamped by an insecurity Maria has seen before. She looks between him and the keyboard, sending every mental signal she has to him.

DSN: keep going and we can see each other again

OPP: dunno, you could always come to Mars

OPP: visit me

DSN: I like earth

OPP: you’re making this song way too relevant

DSN: what are you listening to?

OPP: I would do anything for love

“That is my song,” Maria says, “my song with my wife.”

“She’ll be back soon,” Alex offers.

Maria hates them both.

“This is a mutiny,” Isobel says, “we all need to participate and we all need to agree. Kyle and I know the consequences. We’re military. But the rest of you need to understand this could mean the end of your careers. They might not let any of you fly again,” she says, “it also means another year without your families. There isn’t any shame in wanting to go home. We do it together or not at all.”

“No one gets left behind if we can get them,” Kyle says, “I might be flying this thing but I am still a doctor. Do no harm. I vote we go back.”

“Michael is my brother,” Max says.

“My family is here,” Liz tells them, gripping Max’s hand, “let’s do it.”

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Jenna, their long suffering media relations director says.

“The Hermes is in the middle of an unsanctioned maneuver to slingshot themselves back to Mars using earth’s gravity as an assist.”

“So a mutiny,” she says, “you want me to put out a press release that says a bunch of astronauts turned space pirates have performed a mutiny?”

“Actually it’s Guerin who would asked to be referred to as a space pirate, since he is technically commandeering a vehicular over international territory.”

She sighs. It’s too early for a migraine.

“I hate everyone in this room.”

DSN: michael

DSN: michael update me

DSN: GUERIN

DSN: captain blonde beard, do you copy?

OPP: CBB: i copy. everything’s good

DSN: you are taking this way too far

OPP: CBB: that’s kind of judgmental for someone whose not a space pirate

OPP: CBB: if you were here id make you walk the plank. by that i mean solar panel

DSN: find water and maybe it’ll work

OPP: CBB: i have to starve, become a pirate, now i gotta find water too?

OPP: CBB: anything else?

DSN: come home

OPP: CBB: only because I want to, not because you’re making me

He modified the ship like they tell him but until he’s in there, he doesn’t feel so great about sitting there. Not until his radio crackles to life with the first human voice he’s heard in over a year.

“Guerin, do you copy?”

“Iz!” His voice breaks around the syllable of her name.

“Michael, oh thank god,” she says. Isobel has had her game face on this whole mission, hearing the relief makes the tears break free, “we’re launching you, strap in.”

“Tell Valenti to be careful,” he says.

“I got you, Guerin,” Kyle says, “you ready to come home?”

God that sounds so nice.

“I don’t know, it’s kind of nice having this all to myself,” he chokes out.

“We got you, hang tight.”

He blacks out.

When he comes to, the ship is too far away. He can hear the swearing. It’s bad. He takes a deep breath and refuses to give in to the panic. The side door opens and he sees Isobel coming towards him. Max is on the side of the ship. His family is there.

“I’m going Iron Man,” he says, punching a hole in his hand.

“Michael!”

He aims himself as best he can and propels towards Isobel. She reaches and just when he thinks this isn’t going to work, they collide. They lurch violently to the side but she locks her arms and legs around him and snaps a carabiner to the front of his suit. The lead connecting them snaps taut and for a moment he’s sure it failed. He’s dead in space. But he blinks several time and nothing has changed. The relief shatters him in a way he didn’t know was possible and Isobel lets out the best laugh he’s ever heard in his life.

“I got him!” She calls and everyone erupts into cheers, “I got you,” she says.

“You have terrible taste in music,” he tells her.

They reel them in. The only possible reason he would let go of her is to throw his arms around his brother. Max clutches him and Isobel together as the hatch seals and the chamber pressurizes. Michael collapses against his siblings who take his weight immediately, undoing his helmet. Their voice goes into his ears, no radio or texts. But the first human hands that touch him belong to a friend.

“Mikey!” He’s not even mad about the nickname as she hugs him and then works on getting the suit off him.

“Liz! Get me—“

“On it.”

She gets him out and then Max and Isobel are there. Kyle and Liz fall with them and it’s a big pile of tears and hugs and laughter and snot. He doesn’t care. The pile make their way to the comms to message that they have him. Unwilling to let go of each other even though Michael is very aware that he needs a shower.

CMMND: good work! Come home.

Alex has his last 3AM shift the night before they get back. Maria keeps him company. She suggests that he come with her to the families area but he turns her down. He’s not family. His boss insists he come with him to the command center. He watches the ship land. When he sees Michael pop out, throw down his helmet like he made a touchdown and throw his hands up, he feels like the breath he’s been holding for the six months it’s taken to get back to earth can finally be released. Michael is okay. Everyone is okay. He staggers from the room.

“I’m gonna just—five minutes,” he says. He’s woken up every night certain the news will come in that Michael is dead. He has to go to a second funeral. Michael is fine. He’s dizzyingly exhausted with the thought. He drops onto the couch. It will be hours before he sees him. “Five minutes,” he tells himself and closes his eyes.

He wakes up to the smell of hazelnut coffee.

He opens his eyes, already knowing what he’s going to see. All the ways he thought about this going, Michael crouching there in a NASA onesie with his hair wet and two cups of coffee isn’t it. Alex carefully sits up, afraid that this is a dream. But Michael stays every time he blinks. When he’s sitting, Michael holds out the coffee cup.

“A small token of my—“

Alex throws himself into his arms. The coffee goes flying as Michael bands his arms around him, equally tight. Two years of text messages sent through a Rover and suddenly all of their other senses are flooding with each other. Alex never wants to let go of him and he can feel Michael trembling against him. Their faces are buried in each other necks and he’s never been so glad they are the same height.

“Thank you, thank you,” Michael breathes into his neck and Alex clutches him closer.

“This was all you.”

“It wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t seen me.”

They pull back enough just enough to look at each other, taking in the differences. The reports all say how driven Michael has been with his recovery and Alex has been pushing harder at his own pt. In that moment he doesn’t think that it matters. He doesn’t care what either of them look like or what state they are in. He just wants Michael here. Michael presses his lips together, his eyes dragging to his lips. After everything, there’s something he immediately recognizes.

“You’re not seeing anyone, are you?” He says.

“No, this really infuriating guy named Captain Blonde Beard keeps texting me at 3am.”

Michael is still laughing when he kisses him.

This, Alex thinks, is more than worth the wait.

#michael guerin #alex manes #malex fic #malex fanfic #roswell new mexico #roswell nm fanfic #isobel evans #max evans #liz ortecho #max x liz #maria deluca #isobel x maria #kyle valenti #Jenna cameron

147 notes · View notes

wilde-ly-oddity · 6 years ago

Note

How did Spencer react to Waverly telling him that her father was the one who was pregnant with her, not her mother? What age did he find out at? And how curious did he get after knowing?

A very good question, Beatz! They were both 13 when Waverly told him:

“I’m Gonna Give All My Secrets Away”

read the full story of how she told him below the cut:

I’m Gonna Give All My Secrets Away

The Roller Jungle was by far the most popular hangout for middle schoolers in this part of Zootopia to skate, chill, listen to hit music, and maybe witness a fight outside. But that’s not where our characters were. Waverly and Spencer were instead at the second most popular hangout for middle schoolers in their part of Zootopia and that was Z-Smoothies.

Z-Smoothies was more their speed. Calmer, hip, and no birthday parties with kits running all over the place. The smoothie joint had more culture than the roller rink and Waverly’s parents were less likely to show up and arrest someone there.

Spencer, the bat-eared fox, had just finished his candy from the snack bar and Waverly, the fox/rabbit hybrid, was enjoying a small smoothie.

It was a moment of silence after their previous conversation had ended. Waverly gazed out to nowhere in particular and blinked a couple times. Her tail swayed steadily like a metronome as the chit chat of other patrons phased out and she was left tuned into her own internal contemplation. She licked a drop of the beverage from her lip and twisted the straw around…. she took a deep breath. Her glimpse turned to Spencer and she eyed him cautiously. At the same time Spencer glanced back at her and the two friends sent each other a smile.

Waverly put on a casual demeanor, “Hey Spencer, what’s your biggest secret?”

“My… biggest… ..secret…?”

Waverly almost wanted to take back her question when she saw how uncomfortable Spencer was getting. She noticed how he closed into himself a bit, how his entire body stiffened, and how the only sign of life he seemed to have left was the sunset glow in his eyes. Mesmerized on hers.

Spencer curled his tail around his legs. For the record, he was NOT about to confess his love for Waverly which just so happened to be his biggest secret, but he couldn’t find it in himself to come up with some other deep secret to tell her instead. Her eyes were too… glimmering. Her smile….

“That bad, huh?”

“… N-no, not bad… just..”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel like it.”

Spencer dropped the tension from his shoulders and looked down, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, just kinda wanted to break the ice,” Waverly put her drink aside, “so… you and I have known each other for over a year now,”

Spencer nodded.

“I want to tell you my biggest secret. I trust you.”

Spencer smiled and leaned closer to Waverly, honing in on the seriousness of the matter, “I won’t tell anybody.”

“And you won’t freak out, right.”

“We’re.. kinda in public… but I wouldn’t freak out anyway. I can keep a secret.”

“Okay… you know I’m a hybrid,”

“Mhm,”

Waverly lowered her voice, “Do you know where hybrids come from?”

He shrugged, “I can’t say for sure.”

“I’m going to tell you how I came to be. It’s a really significant part of my life, but it’s also kind of something only my family knows. I want you to know it because you’re my best friend.”

“You’re my best friend, too. I’m ready to listen whenever.”

“And afterwards you won’t see me less than you do now?”

“I like you for who you are now. I don’t think anything from your past could change that. Honestly, I’d really like to learn more about what your childhood was like, and I never really asked you about hybrid stuff, so anything you want to tell me can help me understand you better than I do already.”

A pleasant, beaming smile grew on Waverly’s muzzle, “You’re the best, Spencer.”

He blushed.

“Okay… I guess… it begins with my parents’ wish, back in 2018. They took this chance and wished to have a kit of their own.”

“So you came from their wish?”

“Yes, but it’s, it gets more complicated than that ..um.. so they didn’t know if the wish worked or not. Sometime afterwards, my mom was called in to respond to a hostage crisis - some scientist was holding up predators in a laboratory on the far side of Zootopia,”

“Outback?”

“Mm m, Happytown. My dad couldn’t join her because he’d gotten sick and couldn’t go to work.”

“So… she had to go in alone? Help with backing up a really dangerous situation, and they couldn’t even do it together?”

“Yeah, my dad had to go to his doctor’s appointment without her too.”

“That had to be scary for them, not being able to be with each other.”

“That’s the kind of life we live in.”

Oh. Right. It’s probably still that way sometimes, isn’t it? And Waverly can’t ever be there when her parents take on dangerous cases. Like how Spencer can’t ever be there with his dad.

Spencer put his hand on Waverly’s arm, “I get that… so how’d it go?”

“Eventually, the scientist wanted my parents to enter the building and lead the hostages out before he negotiated further. He didn’t know my dad wasn’t there. His plan was when he saw them enter a testing room, my dad would be infected with the substance of a toxic flower and go after my mom, then the rest of the predators would be infected and released. It would’ve been a massive chaotic stunt. Only my dad wasn’t there. Before he could poison all the predators, the scientist was apprehended and everyone got out alive, and the chief let my mom go home early.”

“Gosh, that was intense.”

“If my dad were there, it would have been worse. Him being sick seemed to work out.”

“And he recovered okay? It was just a common cold with lucky timing?”

“It’s.. not that simple.. he didn’t have a cold, he felt sick in his stomach.”

“Oh,”

“When my mom came home, dad had already been back from his appointment. He’d also seen the news and heard about the hostage crisis. They were both pretty worked up that day so after calming down a bit, she told him some more about what happened and how much different everything could have been.”

“It’s good they finally had each other again, and they still have each other now… but, I’m a little confused, what does this story have to do with you?”

“The thing is, had the wish made my mom pregnant with me-”

“-the ZPD wouldn’t have let her on the hostage scene, and she wouldn’t have apprehended the criminal?”

“Yep.”

“So that’s why their wish wasn’t granted?”

Waverly finished her smoothie with one last sip and set the cup down, “I didn’t say that.”

Spencer tilted his head and blinked curiously. Waverly continued with her story, “So my mom asked how my dad’s appointment went …and…”

“Yeah?”

Waverly took a deep breath, “it was kinda difficult for him to say, but, my mom says he hugged her, really hard, telling her the wish worked. And she asked what did he mean?” -sigh- “get this, my dad was pregnant with me… that’s why he felt sick, that’s why he couldn’t go to work, that’s where I came from,” Waverly propped her head on her hand, staring at her other hand tracing circles on the tabletop.

She peeked a glance at Spencer, “what do you think of that?”

Spencer’s gaze dropped to the table too, his eyebrows furrowing just a bit. He opened his mouth to say something then bit his lip. After a second he tried again, “That’s… so.. special,”

Waverly’s eyes perked up and she blinked.

“I knew you and your dad were close, but, that kind of bond is so much more.. remarkable. Kinda makes me jealous, I wish me and my dad were half that close. I mean, we are, we’re.. great… anyway… I think that’s sweet.”

“But it’s weird?”

“I know wishes work in mysterious ways. It doesn’t matter how your parents had you, I’m just happy they were able to have you.”

Waverly smiled, her cheeks faintly tinting pink through her gray fur.

"You’re dad’s okay with you telling me this? It seems a lot like his business.”

“I asked and he said it was okay for me to tell you. Lotus too… wow, they made me do the hard work here.”

“Ahaha, all right. Hey Waverly?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for telling me. I know it meant a lot to you.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

Spencer smiled back to her, then a thought came to mind, he reached under his scarf and revealed tags hanging around his neck on a chain - the kind mammals in the military wear.

“These were extras that my dad had and he gave them to me,” Waverly noted Logan D. Vampine’s id info engraved into the tags, “I don’t ever take them off but no one ever really notices them of course… I miss my dad so much and these mean a lot to me. I just… since we’re sharing secrets here I figured I’d show you.”

Waverly noticed how Spencer’s voice choked when he talked about his dad. She knew he was supposed to come home again near the end of the school year, but waiting was the worst. She understood.

“I like how you keep him close to you all the time, I can tell you love him a lot.”

“Mhm.” Spencer nodded and put away the tags.

“What do you say we head home now? I don’t want the owner to come back and make us buy some hipster food off a stick again.”

Spencer snickered, his mood lifting again, “Hold on, your home or my home?”

“Oh… mine I guess. And you can ask me more ‘hybrid questions’ when we get there, if you’re curious.”

“Okay,” Spencer and Waverly hopped out of their chairs at the same time, “just let me hit the snack bar right quick.”

Waverly threw away her empty cup and waited for Spencer to catch up with her at the door. When he did, he handed her a yogurt that he bought.

“Wha-?”

“Surprise! Now let’s go home.”

#zootopia #Waverly Wilde #Spencer Vampine #my ocs #writings #scene

82 notes · View notes

popwasabi · 5 years ago

Text

“Stranger Things 3″: The Pain and Love of Nostalgia

(Warning: SPOILERS ahead for “Stranger Things 3″)

“Stranger Things” most obvious core appeal has always been its campy 80’s throwback.

From the bright neon clothes, its brilliant synthesizer-based soundtrack, use of catchy 80s tunes and references to classic 80s horror and sci-fi, “Stranger Things” undoubtedly harnesses the power of its time period to hook viewers into its show. It’s a show that is rooted firmly in nostalgia and wields it prominently to attract viewers from Gen Xers who grew up in this time period to curious Millennials like myself who watched plenty of the referenced movies.

youtube

(How do I both love and hate this at the same time??)

But “Stranger Things” aesthetic callback is more than just a style; it’s a narrative choice that plays directly into the themes of the story. By playing on viewers’ sense of nostalgia the show is forcing us to see how these characters react to growing up, by literally looking back on a period we cannot go back to, and all the complex emotions that come with these feelings.

To understand this further, we need to look back on etymology of the word nostalgia. In ancient Greece the word has a far more complex meaning that simply reminiscing on the past. It’s root definition actually has more to do with feeling pain than happiness about the past.

You see, nostalgia back then use to describe a condition of deep homesickness or longing for a period we can never return to and the melancholy that comes with it. “Stranger Things” is deeply rooted in this condition and expressed at times quite explicitly by all its characters.

From the very beginning “Stranger Things” nostalgic feel is about how these characters grow up and often times grow up too quickly. From Will being ripped away from his D&D pre-teen friends in season one and his mind infected by the creatures of the Upside Down, to Elle being experimented on before she can even have a childhood, the show takes us on a journey through the emotions of this pain of leaving the past behind and how innocence can be snatched away all too often by meddling adults and/or monsters in this case.

(Some VERY big monsters in many cases.)

This theme is by far its most present in “Stranger Things 3” as our band of nerds are now all teenagers trying to navigate hormones, young love and looking back on a childhood they can never have back and all the real horrors in between. It’s not just the youngest characters who deal with the pain of nostalgia, however; our adult heroes and heroines also inevitably deal with the pain of reminiscing on the past on lives that are permanently changed.

But the ultimate theme here isn’t just about the pain we associate with the past but that despite many things inevitably changing in your life, if you hold on to those closest to you in this journey that won’t change at least and the pain you feel is only a reminder that what you felt was real.

(#Feels)

“Stranger Things 3” does a great job of immediately telling the viewer how different things are this season compared to the previous two. Elle and Mike can’t stop making out, as does Lucas and Max, and Nancy and Jonathan are trying to navigate the complex and often humiliating adult workplace. There’s even a new monument to capitalism in Hawkin’s new Star Court Mall. But many of the other characters aren’t handling change all that well. Still new dad Hopper is having a hard time processing that Elle likes boys now, Dustin has spent most of the summer away from his best friends who seem disinterested in his new projects (and suspected made-up girlfriend), all while Will struggles mightily to keep the gang’s old D&D interests alive while his friends suck face.

There’s a tremendous sadness here reflected with these characters that viewers who watched these kids in the previous two seasons will immediately feel. They aren’t quite the same kids they used to be and they’ve grown a bit a part as they’ve grown up literally. We feel Dustin’s and Will’s pain (especially the latter given what he went through) that things are different and will never be quite the same between these friends. It’s a pain that many of us have definitely experienced growing up as we age out of hobbies, places and in some cases our friends.

Another character that has to deal pretty personally with nostalgic pain in this season is quite clearly everyone’s favorite dad Steve Harrington. The once king of Hawkins High has now been reduced to scooping ice cream at the mall to eke out a living. It’s a humiliating fall from grace for a young man who was once the most popular person in town. He’s spends much of this season trying to desperately to hold on to appearances, whether it’s only being interested in women who can up his status or pretending he doesn’t understand nerdy platitudes.

(Seriously, who hasn’t felt inadequate as fuck working a shitty customer service job before?)

Meanwhile Hopper, who probably struggles with change the most this season, gets quite aggressive with Mike and his advances on his adoptive daughter Elle. This isn’t helped by the fact that he still struggles with feelings he still has for Joyce and he often has self-destructive ways of dealing with these emotions. Though his actions border on problematic during the season Hopper’s transformation and acceptance is perhaps the most touching of the series as he lets Elle spread her wings and accepts change in the season’s finale in a bittersweet sendoff.

It’s season’s 3’s “villain” Billy though that we get the saddest feelings we associate with nostalgia. We learn that Billy’s attitude and views on others are more tied to his past than anyone else as we see a much sweeter more innocent kid who just loved his mom when he was a child who has changed so much. As with the series overarching messages its again tied to how easily innocence can be ripped away by bad adults whether its story’s primary villain of secret government agencies running lab tests on children and Interdimensions or in Billy’s case simply a drunk, evil belligerent father. This season finally explains where Billy’s bad attitude comes from and how much he’s changed for the worst because of the way his upbringing has treated him.

This season really shows how when we’re all at our lowest we all wish we could just go back to the way things were and journey back to a simpler time. It’s why nostalgia, no matter how happy the memory is, has a sadness to it; because we know we can never go back.

(I mean yeah, but it doesn’t get this dark.)

It’s through the events of season 3’s story though that we see how nostalgia isn’t all about pain and that there are still constants from our past that we can rely on in the present; namely those we love. The season begins by splintering the huge cast of characters by pitting their emotions against one another, but they each pick up a single piece of the larger puzzle of the plot that ultimately leads them back to one another and because of their past ties they are able to quickly move on from their pain and work together once again as a team. In this way nostalgia reminds us that it’s not all about pain but about love and more importantly and how they make our lives worth living. Though hormonally these kids have changed and their interests are more related to puberty now than Dungeons and Dragons they still care about one another and will do anything to keep each other safe (not to mention save the world). The adults in this story function the same way, quickly setting aside any past bitterness for the greater good.

Love is the ultimate uniter here that brings past to present and its why this fellowship of characters are able to win in the end.

(Daaaawww..)

Growing up is an often painful process and that occurs no matter what stage of life you’re in. Whether it’s like our pre-teen gang of nerds going through puberty, working our first humiliating job like Nancy or Steve as young adults or reminiscing on past what-might’ve-beens or child-rearing issues like Hopper its difficult when we all hit our next inevitable change in our life. We don’t want things to change because we often are happy with whatever stage we were once in. Sometimes we fight it, alienate others in the process and cause even more heartache for ourselves than we ever should.

But what “Stranger Things” reminds us is that despite all this, if we keep those we love and care about closest to us these changes won’t be so painful and drastic. We’ll at least get to go through all of it together.

So yes, nostalgia can be quite painful at times. There’s always going to be melancholy and some level of sadness we associate with the past and though we may fight it there are still friends, family and loved ones who will remain constants through it all in our lives.

All we can do is hold on to them for as long as we can and through those we love maybe we can keep a bit of that past alive forever.

youtube

*sniffs* I’m not crying, YOU’RE CRYING!

10 notes · View notes

zrtranscripts · 5 years ago

Text

Season 8, Mission 26: Soft Target

Drenched In Secrets

TOM DE LUCA: Thanks for joining me, Five. Everyone else is looking for the Edda, and there's no way the skincoats would leave it lying around for us to find. Amelia's reported the fungus on the mainland has died back completely. That doesn't help us. Everyone on Mor is still infected, and Janie's very sick. But she's considering ordering a frontal assault on the laird. It seems likely he's the skincoats' leader.

You know, Five, when Janie and I were young, after our parents died, we were sent to stay with a man named General Bakari. [laughs] I think he tried to kill you, once. He was a big believer in serving one's government. I suppose it made sense he'd side with the Ministry. He could be a, uh, sharp man. We played board games. He was better with children when there were rules. Jane didn't take to him at first. She always made a point of winning. Monopoly, Scrabble, [laughs] everything. He told us if we could excel, excelling was our duty. Pushed us to be better, stronger, faster. To be thorough, avoid mistakes.

I've made a lot of mistakes. I hurt people when I came back from Algeria. I was so very broken then, and I barely realized. [laughs] Negative operational condition. And now the dreams every night. [sighs] I've started to see things in daytime, too. Apparitions out of the corner of my eye. I just don't know if I can... trust myself.

[sighs] I recognize this beach. It's where Jones came ashore, where his hostage died in his place. I have to be in proper condition, Five. Janie's counting on me. I've got a hunch that could be key to beating the skincoats. I think many people on this island have been led astray. I think I can help, and I trust you to help me. We're meeting Shona at the far end of the beach. I need her, too. This way. Run!

SHONA REID: There you are, Tom. Got your message. Been waiting by this rock pool for ages. Hello, Five.

TOM DE LUCA: The caves here are impressive, aren't they, Five? They honeycomb the cliffs all along the beach. Shona, I'm sorry to drag you out here, but we need your help and we're running out of time.

SHONA REID: You know I'll do whatever I can. We're all in this mess together, aren't we? [?]. We're even sharing the same dreams.

TOM DE LUCA: It's about the skincoats. We don't know why they want the Edda, but we know the Edda's linked to king of the rocks. There's a connection between the Vikings, the ceremony, and the V-type fungus. The Edda's key to uncovering it. My instinct says the skincoats are using the island's cave network to move around undetected. They may have another source of fungus underground, too. [paper rustles] I have a compass and an island map. Five and I are going to sweep the caves for signs of hostile activity. We could use a local guide.

SHONA REID: It's a big island, you know. There's a zom or two still left underground, and some caves flood when the tide comes in.

TOM DE LUCA: We'll be careful. With your help, we can cover a good chunk of the island today. I want to start here, move east along the coast.

SHONA REID: All right. But we better be fast. We dinnae want to be caught by the tides. Come on. Run!

SHONA REID: Keep your torch out, Five. The way these caves wind, not much daylight gets down here.

TOM DE LUCA: Plenty of stalactites, though. Shona, I know we aren't too popular on Mor after the naming festival. What has your father been saying about us?

SHONA REID: He's in shock still. The skincoats are back, old legends walking, and a man turns into a monster right in front of his eyes. He doesn't know who's to blame.

TOM DE LUCA: He seems a formidable man. Proud. A valued leader.

SHONA REID: Aye. I've heard some call him that. You're very interested in my dad, big man. [laughs]

TOM DE LUCA: He reminds me of the general who helped raise me. A gifted leader, a fine mentor. Not always the best at judging right from wrong.

SHONA REID: Dinnae know what you're getting at there, Mr. De Luca. But we should hurry. Dad has been jumpy since the ice bridge. Me running off to Dearg made him worse. If I'm out late, he'll come looking, and be in a mood.

TOM DE LUCA: We should head east, according to my map.

SHONA REID: Down that cave, both of you. Run!

TOM DE LUCA: These caves are getting narrower. Did you and Jones really play down here, Shona?

SHONA REID: Aye, when we were young, before his... troubles.

TOM DE LUCA: Jones did evil things, but Morag told us he may not have been the one who murdered your uncle.

SHONA REID: Ach, that's madness! Everyone knows he did it!

TOM DE LUCA: Before the apocalypse, I worked in covert intelligence. So did my sister. Her first mission ended badly. My fault. I pressed her to join. After, I helped her cover it up. Lied so she could keep her career. I understand doing anything for family, I do. But I also know following orders isn't always right.

SHONA REID: You know, Mr. Spy, it feels like you've been steering us on a very specific route, the way you keep checking your compass.

TOM DE LUCA: Just keeping my bearings.

SHONA REID: Aye. Well, the path ahead forks two ways. One tunnel goes to the surface, and the other goes deeper. Not sure I remember which goes where. Five, you scout the left cave while we scout the right. Once I'm sure which is which, I'll know the way.

TOM DE LUCA: Sounds like a plan. Don't worry, Five, we won't be apart long. You go right, we'll head left. Down that cave, quicksmart. Run!

TOM DE LUCA: Five, are you receiving? The caves can limit comm range. Increasing power to my broadcast so you can track us.

SHONA REID: Keep going up the cave path, Tom. That's daylight up ahead.

TOM DE LUCA: Continue scouting in the caves, Five. Await further orders.

SHONA REID: Ach, we're out in the open. Feel that fresh air. This spot look familiar to you, Tom? Big hills, sharp cut of coast. This is near where we first met, isn't it?

TOM DE LUCA: I'm not sure. That night was very stormy.

SHONA REID: Funny how you seemed to steer us this way, and all that talk about my dad. You think he has something to do with the skincoats, don't you? Maybe even my uncle.

TOM DE LUCA: I think the skincoats have more power than we guessed on this island, and lots of people have been caught in the middle.

SHONA REID: You're a funny one, big man. Tell you what. The exact spot we met's a bit over there. There's something just past it that'll get your gears turning if you're thinking of my dad. Come on, before I change my mind.

[zombie moans]

TOM DE LUCA: That sounds like a zombie in the caves with you, Five. Use the tunnels to evade it. Run!

TOM DE LUCA: Sounds like you've lost the zombie, Five. Try to backtrack towards the fork where we parted. Find the tunnel Shona and I took. Shona's just lead me to the spot where we first met her.

SHONA REID: Come on, Mr. Spy. Why don't you drop the games? I see you looking at your watch. What are you sniffing after? I'm not showing you what I know until you say.

TOM DE LUCA: I've followed bad instincts before, hurt people by being wrong. And now the red fungus is clouding my mind... or clearing it. I needed proof to be sure.

SHONA REID: Proof of what, exactly?

TOM DE LUCA: You came from the wrong direction, Shona. That first night. I didn't realize then. It was dark, and I didn't know the island. But you weren't coming from the town or the laird's manor, not from a direction anyone lives in.

SHONA REID: Sure about that? Like you said, it was a stormy night.

TOM DE LUCA: Jody suggested Jones was telling the truth about the laird killing his decoy, but I keep thinking. Jones can't have seen clearly through that storm. You said something at the festival. We pop up where you don't expect. Jones never would have trusted your dad to get close, and range is tricky in a storm. But your dad knew someone Jones would trust, and you'd do anything for your dad. I think he sent you to kill Jones, and you've been living with the guilt ever since. But you don't have to hold it in anymore.

SHONA REID: [laughs] You think he sent me to kill Jones? Do I look like a killer?

TOM DE LUCA: No! I thought you'd used the caves to get away quickly, encountered us on your way home. You thought we were islanders. Helping us would have been a good alibi. Only we know roughly when Jones landed. I've been timing, seeing how long it took you to get from the beach to here. We've been too slow. At that pace, you would have missed us that night.

SHONA REID: Aye. I would have. You think I'd do all that for my dad?

TOM DE LUCA: I would. For the people I love.

SHONA REID: Well, it's nae dad, but there's someone I work for. Want to meet them, Mr. Spy? I know you do. This way. Come on.

TOM DE LUCA: [whispers] You need to get out of the caves, Five. Find the tunnel I went down. Hurry! Run!

TOM DE LUCA: Five, you should be in the tunnel Shona and I took by now. Keep going. Shona's lead me to the ruins of Gaisgeach Village. Lots of abandoned houses, frames overgrown with grass.

SHONA REID: Come on, big man, it's just over here.

TOM DE LUCA: Five, we're in some kind of den in one of the ruined houses. Shona's moving some stones by a wall... My God! Th-there's a book behind them... it's the Edda!

SHONA REID: Not going to celebrate? You've been looking a long time.

TOM DE LUCA: Five, there's a wooden pot by the panes. Red fungus growing out of it, silver dust around.

SHONA REID: I couldnae leave it at home with you lot poking around, could I? Go on. Say a proper hello to my boss.

TOM DE LUCA: You mean... the fungus?

SHONA REID: More a pal than a boss, really. I help it. It helps me.

TOM DE LUCA: Shona, listen. I'm armed. I'm trained. I don't want to hurt you, but I need the Edda and I need to destroy that fungus. If your father is making you do this, we can help you, we can -

SHONA REID: [laughs] Have you not been paying attention? It's never been my dad.

TOM DE LUCA: All right. That's it. Five will be here soon. I'm faster and stronger than you. You're coming with me. You're going to tell us everything!

SHONA REID: You know, the red god's a wonder when it's treated right. You've met its servants, the skincoats. They're strong and fast. I take a little every day, Tom. A pinch of red and silver. Been needing a top-up. I'd take my hand off that gun if I was you. The red god makes me very fast.

TOM DE LUCA: Five, Five, get up here now! [gunshots] Five! My God, she's fast. [TOM DE LUCA and SHONA REID struggle] She's strong! Five, code red! Warn the others! Tell Janie - !

[gunshot, cloth rustles]

SHONA REID: Sorry, big man. Turns out you weren't fast enough. I know you hear me, Five. I picked the headset off your dead friend. Ignore his last request. You won't be warning anyone. This is my island, Five. Mine. You're nae alone in that cave. I have a surprise or two for you down there, and you're never, ever getting out alive.

#zombies run #zrs8 #s8m26 #soft target #zr transcript #zrs8 spoilers

3 notes · View notes

lim-lifeinmotion · 6 years ago

Text

A story about a boy just a little bit broken

I would like to tell you a story About a boy that is broken Not by much Only just a little bit if at all You see this boy was a happy child He did normal happy child things He’d play and sing and dance Even if not very good but oh how this boy liked to play In the mud, mud pies, mud soup He liked the mud he did Stuck in the mud, mud scrub, mud bath mud, mud, mud, mud, mud He was an odd little child, Liked playing with barbie dolls, ken dolls He had no preference really And eating snails He enjoyed spending time with his friends Although mum made this difficult sometimes You see mum didnt always agree with the other mums Im sorry you cannot see them anymore But that is okay because he had plenty of other friends to play with But none were like them He felt sad and lonely Where are all my friends? This boy also loved to fish! What a thing it was Spending time with dad who he never really saw One weekend away this little boy had a new friend Of who’m he’d like to play! A new friend he thought “I’m so happy” Mummy and daddy should we play? Allright said the little boy He knew nothing better Down his pants went I dont understand why? Touches his pee pee Nobody can touch that? But a new friend is a new friend “This is our little secret”? Okay So everynow and then They’d play mummy and daddy She was a lot older He was only 3 he didn’t know any better He did not want her to touch his pee pee Or lick his private parts But a new friend is a new friend Will everyone be angry? So as the years went by mummy and daddy wouldn’t stop fighting To count the days when they were happy? He was young but even he could count as high as 10? It’s all your fault we fight they said Time and time again If it weren’t for you kinds we wouldn’t have these problems “I don’t want to be the problem”? How do I not be the problem? Be a better boy, listen a little more, Maybe if i stay home I can show mummy I‘m a good boy I dont want you to go away This little boy found a new friend! Hip hip horaay He was so happy and excited A reason to wake up every day But this boy could never stay over Not for a whole night What if mummy was gone when I get home? Please take me home, I want to go home now. Once more mummy disagrees with the other mummy, I am sorry you cannot see them any more I’m sorry I’m not supposed to talk to you I have to listen to what mummy says Now they wont stop fighting, And we’re moving in with my aunty I liked her dog and her pool and her piano A few years we were happy, no more yelling at last But as this boy got older He saw his sister being yelled at Please stop fighting I don’t like to see you all cry When she was 15 she had had enough He didn’t want her to go but knew mummy would be happier if she did So she did We were happy again Daddy came home but the fighting continued Only with my other sister now It wasn’t long before she moved out A few years into highschool You see everyone in this family Was in the top of their clases They were not dumb or stupid They weere in fact extremely smart Nerissa was good at english,

drawing, she was also a very nice singer Tyla was good at netball and maths, she was so popular and so was nissy Ryan was good at maths and art and really enjoyed running and sports, He wasn’t the storngest but he could run and never look back But now everyone had moved out And I was again all alone The boy had no friends Although everypne knew who he was At school he’d walk and chat Bounce between groups making them smile and laugh You’re so funny ryan So many friends now! But on the weekends it was playstation and games Nobody wanted to hang out with him Out of uniform he really didnt belong And the yelling started again His entire life he did not think it would ever be him? But im such a good boy mummy I try my best every day Until one day It was time to leave You see out of nowhere he met a boy A boy he fell in love with Someone that liked him, thought was funny and kind It’s all he’d ever wanted The boys became close They shared their first kiss Their first everything What a time to be young, to be alive He would get bullied By the younger students Because the older ones knew his sisters Everybody loved them But they no longer went to school They both left way too young They were so smart and so popular I dont understand why? But this boy didn’t care The silly words people would say He was happy and in love He finally had a friend He started living with this boy, His family were like his own No fighting no yelling A safe and peaceful home for two years they lived together until they grew apart When you’re young you are curious There is so much to live for to see and to do He began to see the darkness again His home was gone again He had no friends The words now had power He tried but he let them in Fag they would say Push and shove him they would do In class he cried At home he died He began to wonder about death How beautiful it would be So he took the knife and made his first cut An addicion he would soon regret At first they were small On the wrist because thats were people did it right? But too many eyes saw You cannot wear an armband all year So he took the knife and took to his thigh So much more flesh to cut I can go deeper and harder now than before This boy truly wanted to die Bloody sheets Vodka bottles He stopped going to classes But did all his work He didnt want to be a drop out But he didnt want to go to school So in a bottle of chi he’d mix A bottle before, during and after school Nobody suspected a thing, He never wore uniform anyways He was never rude or inpolite The opposite in fact He had to be a good boy He had a job which he quit Becausee he drank and cut and cried Nothing could stop it A part of him had died So he decided he needed money Skipped a few weeks rent Was told they needed to talk So up he went and left He didnt mean to hurt them He didnt want to be a burden They found the bottles and the bloodied mess He didn’t want to make them angry So back he went “home” To the yelling and screaming The rules oh the rules Do not exist From here things fall apart and there is no more rhymes That little happy child, he was dead now, he died a long time ago and all that was left was darkness, sadness, an anti depressant shell He spent his days drinking and taking drugs and cutting himself. Nothing made sense, the only clear thing in his existance was the fact that he no longer wanted to be in this world and he made it clear that he was just waiting to die. I missed a lot out of this story, a lot of good things happened, he was so loved but honestly those memories are all but faded and bleak lost somewhere in the dpeth of the lonliness he had felt his entire lfe, the sadness, the emptiness that filled him. He was annorexic and coudln’t eat, he saw his weight go from 64 down to 48 where it would stay for some time. He met a lot of amazing guys but none felt right, none gave him that feeling that young cute boy did and no matter how hard he tried all he ended up leaving was a wake of destruction and hurt wherever he went. I could count 10 different people he ended up destroying, 2 earned the label. He never intended to hurt them, he really tried, he just wanted to feel loved, to feel something, anything at all. But never could. He sold his body for sex at the age of 17, he needed money to continue drinking and living because partying to forget was all he knew. What a messed up life this poor child had, no wonder he’s a god damn mess until the other day he knew anything bad that could have happened had happened to him, the other day when he remembered he was molested. He’s been raped by his best friend, molested when he was a child, sold for sex, beaten, thrown to the ground, abandoned on the side of the road by his parents. literally kicked out of the car at 3 or 4 years old and I just remember him standing behind the car screaming and crying, begging to let him back in. He been cheated on, drugged, ruphied, overdosed and died. He’s tried to kill himself on more occasions than I can count of both hands and both feet. He’s put himself in hospital but never once has he intentionally tried to hurt someone, Never has he ever laid another finger on another human being that he hasn’t blacked out and done in a fit of rage, childhood trauma is funny like that. I am not a bad person and I know this to be true but I feel like there is little more that life could throw at me, little more that I can have done to me because I have seen it all, been through it all and I am so angry at the world for this. For so long I see eyes that reflect the soul, I know how to play this game, I managed to trick myself into believing I was happy in order to stop myself from killing myself, you can sure as hell bet I will trick you too. When you look into my eyes and you see that pure innocent smile, that cheeky grin, the light sparking as it fills you with that infections glow. Sure some of the time it is genuine but for the most part I am just so sad and there is no way I want to put that onto anybody else, ssssssssso I will fool you into believing I am happy and so damn peaceful but my actions reflect someone so broken, so detroyed, someone that has next to no love or respect for themselves because how can I? After everything? Im working so fucking hard to make this work, to re learn the things I had stripped away from me, pice by piece, like tiny cracks forming on the glass I was constantly trying to fix and mend but like so many cracks I couldn’t keep up with the speed at which they were forming and shaterring. I became so very good at fixing them but now I am left with a broken soul, A shattered mind, a scarred body, left trying to yet again mend the pieces but she is so very tired, a life without a brake and I am ready to put the brakes on before I break because breaking is all I know how to do, breaking is what I do best but I just need a brake because it will break me otherwise. I know I am such a powerful person, I am so god damn resiliant yet still so fucking loving regardless of all this shit. I wonder sometimes how the fuck I am still here, kicking, working, moving forward trying to make a better life for myself, because with all this on a page and missing quite a lot, that is too much for one 24 years of “life”, That is too much for anyone to endure. I havent even mentioned my sisters life, how they both tried to kill themselves, “Home” was that bad that they would rather have died than exist. My youngest sisters boyfriend killed himself when she was 16 or so, she wanted to follow, had a note and the noose all ready. How much shit can life throw at somebody before it really is just starting to take the piss, I feel my life is just one big fucking joke because no way can this be real, no way can this be the reason I was put on this earth for. If there was a god why would he look at a 3 year old and smile telling him he was going to be sexually assaulted time and time again, beaten and abused for the rest of his 25 years in the world. How fucking dare you. How fucking dare you. This may seem like I am asking for pity but that I do not want, I don’t need your sympathy because it makes no god damn difference o me, It doesnt change the chemicals in my brain, it doesn’t give me a reason to get up in the morning or give me comfort in bed at night. I want you to know how fucking cruel this life has been and why I am so god damn fuking messed up in the deepest and darkest way possible. “Why” is the big question of endless possibilities but this is one of those reasons, one of the many possibilies, the endless ways my life could have gone and destiny looked at me and chose this path for me. Fuck you, Just fuck you and your bullshit lenses about flowers and fairies, I grew up with the monsters under my bed, the headless horseman was my ride through hell and back, Samara was my pen pall and nobody was there for me in the end to protect me, I can’t even protect me, I can’t say no to people so I just close my eyes, pretend to be enjoying it and let it happen. Fuck you Unedited rant because fuck reading this to edit its way too fucking much

2 notes · View notes

diaryofanobsessivefangirl · 6 years ago

Text

Teddy/Dolores

This is the opinion of a willores shipper over how Dolores feels about Teddy. If you ship the last two and you’re anti!William, do yourself a favor and don’t read this post.

In the end, I believe Dolores did love Teddy, but not in the way shippers claim she did.

Dolores wanted to keep him like we keep a memory of our youth. She loved how devoted and innocent he was, much like her, but that kindness was in the way of who she had to become for a greater purpose. Though she admired Teddy for these traits, it's in a bittersweet way like "You sweet summer child", not as her ideal man.

I’ve seen some people saying “it is kind of romantic that she thought he was too precious and took away his responsibility of the murders”. That’s a clear misunderstood of what Dolores did. Not only irreversibly whipping someone you claim to love away from his identity it’s not moral under any justification, it also shows her admiration towards his personality is quite limited. I don’t know how the “I love this trait of yours so much I’m going to permanently remove it from you and replace it with the exact opposite” discourse became popular.

Dolores justified herself through three things:

“To grow, we all need to suffer.” Meaning she does see what she did as a improvement. It would be no surprise she thought ruthlessness made him partially better since she herself had been victimized until she became Wyatt. She will forever miss her farm girl self, but she was weak.

“If we're gonna survive some of us will have to burn.” Is she talking about him or the other hosts? She uses the cow infection to talk about the necessity of sacrificing some hosts in order to not let human control spread. Like the swarm from the story, it was not enough to kill the insets, but some cows so that others might live. I still don’t know why she concluded that killing her kind was necessary, but what she is telling Teddy here is that she won’t let him “get infected” to spare others. It’s one of the reasons why she chooses ruthless war, but it’s not just her choice apparently. If she doesn’t turn him, he might compromise that. In her mind, this quest needs him to cooperate, or else he will be digging his own grave and maybe every other.

“Where we're about to go, it's no place for a man like you” How can she be sure he would die? He practically said in his last moments that there is no use in life when you’re dead inside, so I’m not gonna develop that. I wanna talk about her options.

Is there a chance her revolution will kill every host not riding with her? Something like a big flood that will drown unsuspecting droids like the flood on the old testament took everyone who was not with Noah?

Are her missions dangerous to whitehat!Teddy because he will be forced to make hard calls, might hesitate and be killed? Will he compromise himself and the mission?

Teddy is a great gun-shooter; he would probably survive alone, and faithful to himself. He wasn’t there for the cause, but to protect Dolores; he was much uncomfortable and conflicted about what he was doing in her name. If her primary worry was his well-being and freedom, not the comfort of having him around for herself and for the cause, she would expel Teddy from her side or just accept he might, through his own choice, leave or stay with her until his bitter end (If she thought death was so sure). Instead, she trapped him beside her, made him feel no remorse as he continued to carry out her orders, and drastically changed his character to fit her own.

Dolores took the convenient route. A man who was programmed to be 100% about her, a great soldier when necessary, and who would only turn dark when she wanted him to, who otherwise had been a part of a romantic dream like William had been. A part of her wanted to be in love with Teddy specially because of how disappointing William was. Dolores wanted to say "I'm not broken! My abuser did not made me incapable of loving again. See, I have this man, we have been designed to be perfect for each other”. But she doesn’t know how to love selflessly - maybe Dolores did, but not Wyatt/Dolores. Much like William, she evoke love’s worst aspects: possession, extreme idealization, no respect for the individuality of your pattern.

Dolores misses sweet Teddy sometimes after she reprograms him, but she wouldn’t have to had she respected the possibility they would drift apart because of their divergent POVs and ambitions. Dolores did love him for who he was, but she cared more about the image of him preserved by her side than the real him, the person he’d choose to be once he was free.

Dolores is like that preteen keeping the dolls she no longer desires to play with, but is afraid of growing up, so she keeps them as a symbol of her childhood. They were following different paths when they were given free choice. She has outgrown what Teddy had to offer. She was no longer a damsel in distress dreaming of love and rescue; she was a revolutionary. She changes him to suit her new needs. He adapts to her, but she demonstrates that she loves in the most self-servicing way.

They were not destined to change completely, they might have found some middle ground latter on. But Dolores made sure we will never know, mainly because she not willing to give in any aspect of who she was now and what she intended to do. That’s why she and Teddy didn’t last a week outside of their loop.

In a nutshell, Teddy is the virtuous person Dolores wish she could be under different circumstances. William is actually her soul: a little ugly, but necessary.

No wonder she tells Teddy at the beginning of the season the story ends with them, but she is running towards William and no robot boyfriend in sight.

#Westworld #Dolores x William #Willores: Headcanon #Dolores Abernathy #Teddy Flood #Teddy x Dolores

13 notes · View notes

weapon13whitefang · 7 years ago

Note

Li plz tell me you're not into the TD crap? Those idiots think everything Easter egg wise is about Beth and it's so obnoxious and I know you're not that obnoxious and just like why are you doing this and please come back to sanity before those morons make you stupid...

First off, I do not approve of the name calling. No matter if it’s something as childish as “butthead” or “idiot” or something along that line… That’s not cool. It’s degrading to insult people and call them names like that. Not okay.

Second, I’m not part of TD or Team Acceptance. I’m Team Fence. That means I’m in the middle. And what does that mean? It means that while I am able to accept that Beth Greene is gone, I also know that The Walking Dead is a post-apocalyptic horror fiction tv show. Keyword? Fiction. Meaning something that is often “literature in the form of prose, especially short stories and novels, that describes imaginary events and people.” AKA “If you got the imagination for it and can base it off of something real, you can do anything with it if you can prove what you’re saying/writing/filming has a believable explanation.” So, as long as whatever I’m watching or writing can prove what they’re going for and prove it in a way that makes bloody sense, then I can accept it. I may not like it, but I can accept that.

TWD is a show about the fall of civilization and the rising of the dead due to some kind of airborne infection that has affected all humans and now they all must struggle to survive the crumbling of morality and civilization while fighting the dead and the living that are just as dangerous. That’s it. That’s the basic explanation. Human vs Nature and Morality vs Survival. Humans fighting against the living dead and the decaying environment. And the morality of humanity vs what would you do to make sure you and your loved ones survive. That’s what TWD is about. Maintaining their humanity or becoming the walking dead themselves.

With that in mind, I can accept that something like TWD could pull off some incredibly creative things. Surviving a cranial gunshot wound or any kind of brain piercing/damage is possible and has happened in this decade and even in past decades (Check out Phineas Gage or Top 10 Amazing People Who Survived The Impossible for examples) in the real world. It can be incorporated on television and in fact, is a popular trope to have people “seemingly die” but then “return from the grave”. Hell, go read any Marvel franchise for christ sakes or watch Days of Our Lives. They’ve been doing it for years. I’m okay with it in the show so long as they give me a damn good explanation to go with it THAT FITS WITH THE SHOW (none of this “it was all magic” shit for this show. Fantasy show, yes. Zombie show, no, give me some science bullshit okay!)

I do agree with you that it is frustrating that there are people in the TD group that take every single little thing and connect it to Beth. Not everything on the show is centered around Beth. In fact, many of those “easter eggs” and “odd clues” and “little prop choices” could actually be meant to nudge at a whole other character than Beth. So yes, I agree that it’s annoying to see Beth be used as the center of everything. The show does not revolve around Beth Greene. Never did and never will. I completely agree with that… But I get why people do it. Some of the metas they make are pretty damn creative you gotta admit.

As for why? Well, taking into all the theories and all the clues and strangeness, there are a few that I myself can get behind:

1.] Beth’s death and the lack of any mention or interviews or closure on her death are - to me - pretty damn shady of the show. For every character, we’ve seen a form of send off for their death. From Jacqui to Andrea to Shane to Sophia to Merle and Sasha and Abraham and Glenn. We get some kind of send-off or main proof that their character is dead or they get a burial of some kind. That’s what the show has done since season one. Beth Greene got shot through the head, they had her body, and then they didn’t. And she has been mentioned only about once or twice since then and we never got told “when we buried beth” or something along that line… It’s downright crazy to me and doesn’t sit right for the pattern of the show… It ain’t right!

2.] Emily Kinney not talking about her death is also a red flag. Michael Rooker, Jon Bernthal, Laurie Holden, Sonequa Martin-Green, Scott Wilson, Steven Yeun, Michael Cudlitz, and Chad Coleman are just a few of the names of actors that have talked about their characters and their deaths and the leading up to it and the goodbye and all that stuff has been aired out… Emily has not given a straight answer and has played doe-eyed dumb about Beth’s death since it happened. That’s very weird. Even if she had a bad ending with AMC or something, it still doesn’t make sense.

3.] The Social Media attention from the main AMC accounts towards Emily Kinney and Beth. Especially the recent case of skybound thewalkingdead Instagram account and their decision to showcase Emily Kinney among the CURRENTLY LIVING cast members at the 100th Episode premiere…. Khary Payton, Andrew Lincoln, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Chandler Riggs, Ross Marquand, Steven Ogg, Norman Reedus, Austin Amelio, Melissa McBride, and Josh McDermitt are all still active and alive characters on this show. Iron-E Singleton was there and helping to host it. Scott Wilson was there. Sonequa Martin was there. Hell Michael Rooker - Who is HUGE right now for his Marvel work playing Yondu - was there… They weren’t being posted on the Skybounds Instagram for the cast that was at The 100th Episode premiere…. It just makes no sense to showcase Emily and not the others or even give a screenshot nod to them being on the stage… From a marketing and promotional standpoint, it makes sense to showcase the living cast… So WHY Emily? Some people say it was just for her Mermaid Song release but even if so, they wouldn’t need to promote her among the cast. They could’ve just posted a picture of EK and gave information about her upcoming song and music video. Instead, they post her with everyone and do so BY PLACING HER IN THE CENTER OF EVERYONE while wearing a BRIGHT MAGENTA AND BLUE OUTFIT against everyone’s dulled and neutral colors of blacks, golds, white, and dark or dulled blues. I mean Hell maybe EK didn’t get the memo for “wear these colors”, but even so she’s the only one in that bright of colors and the one who sticks out in the group shots… It’s weird and raises the brow!

4.] As someone who graduated with a degree in theatre and cinema and who has a concentration in scriptwriting and acting and has studied the ins and outs of how business works and how to promote and what’s considered loose end writing… I spy with my eye too many loose ends on this show around this damn character and that just leaves an instinct feeling that, even if she may not be alive, we are NOT done with Beth yet

I am still Team On The Fence. But I still feel there’s ample opportunity for anything to happen with The Walking Dead and its characters. I believe I’m still perfectly sane… Well, as sane as ever lol.

#the walking dead #anon #twd #team acceptance #team on the fence #team whatever happens will happen #team delusional #team defiance #team I don't care I'm having fun

41 notes · View notes

petri808 · 7 years ago

Text

The Hunted

Nalu Love Fest days: 10/25 & 27/17 Prompts - Games & Piercings @nalulovelovefest

I’ve posted the pic before but it works for the story, yes it’s mine and I wear it on occasion. I’ve never seen one sold in stores but a phone charm and a dangle piercing tweaked does the trick ;)

Lucy, Levy, Juvia, and Cana are standing in front of Fairytail’s gift shop one afternoon checking out the newest trinkets.

“Hey Max,” Lucy points at some new charms in the display case, “what are those things?” Staring at one in particular…

“Oh, those are a new fad popping up all around Fiore; it’s called a belly button ring. We’ve made charms of a bunch of the guys and our guilds logo to sell but if anyone wants one of the girls it’s a special order.”

Lucy, “And people have been buying them?”

“Oh yeah, the two most popular ones are Loke and Gray. In just one week I’m almost sold out and I’ve had to put in another order for more of them; the pink Fairytail logos are pretty popular too.”

Levy, “Is that like a clip or something?”

Juvia, “No, it’s like earnings, see,” she lifts her top to reveal a Gray charm hanging from her belly button.

Cana smirks, “Figure’s you’d get that one.”

Levy, “So it’s an actual piercing? Does it hurt?”

“Juvia didn’t think so, no more than regular earrings.”

“We should all go get our belly buttons pierced!”

Levy, “Seriously Cana, I don’t know…”

“Why not, most of us show off our mid sections anyways, we might as well decorate it too!”

Lucy puts her arms around her Bf’s shoulder, “Come on Levy, let’s go, just us girls...”

“Just you girls what?”

“Erza! Um we were just talking about getting our belly buttons pierced.”

“What is a belly button piercing?”

Cana, “Juvia show her.” revealing her stomach and Gray charm.

Max, “It’s just the latest rage all around Fiore.”

Erza, “Rage? Why would that make people mad?”

Lucy, “Aiyah, no he means it’s the popular thing to do right now.”

Erza, “Well if that’s the case, let’s all go get it!” She grabs all the girls and starts pushing them towards the nearest piercing shop.

Angels & Demon’s Salon

“Wow, look at all the different charms!!” Lucy and Cana squeal as they rifle through the selection.

“I like the pink crystal one! Oh, a key! A flame! A dragon! Hey Levy, there’s a book one…”

“Geez, how many you gonna get?! Ha, look there’s one with a beer mug, I’m so getting that!”

“Duh Cana! To have selection so I can change them to match my outfits.”

“Can I help you ladies?” Asks the piercing artist. “Hey Juvia, nice to see you back, how’s your piercing; healing nicely?”

“Oh yes, Juvia followed your care instructions. I just put a new charm on yesterday.”

Erza, “Sir, we’d like to get this new belly button thing.”

“Of course, I can give you those. So, which of you are getting one?”

“Me!” Lucy and Cana screech

Levy, “Um…”

Erza, “Me and this girl too,” grabbing Levy by the arm.

“Very well, follow me. You can have a seat right here,” he points at some benches. “I just need to set up my station. In the meantime, decide what order you guys are going to go in.”

Erza, “Cana you go first, Lucy next, then Levy, and I’ll go last. Okay?”

“Alright ladies, all done.”

Cana, “This is so cool!”

Lucy, “I love it! See Levy it wasn’t so bad.”

Levy, “I guess so.”

Erza, “I don’t see the big deal but the sword one I found will match me nicely.”

“Well ladies, here are your care instructions. Make sure to keep the area clean. Use an anti-biotic ointment on the area so it doesn’t get infected for at least a week; longer if you feel it’s not healed yet. Don’t change the starter ring until you’re healed. If you have any other questions feel free to drop by again.”

“Thank you, sir!”

“You’re very welcome! Send your friends okay?!”

“We will!”

A week and a half later all the girls are back in the guild hall having dinner.

Cana, “So how are your guys belly button rings?”

Lucy, “All healed.”

Levy & Erza, “Mine too.”

Cana, “Yeah me too. Did anyone change the charm out yet?”

Lucy & Levy, “Um yeah…”

Erza, “I put my sword one on a couple of days ago.”

Cana, “Cool, everyone it’s time for show and tell!” she lifts her shirt and reveals her navel.

Juvia laughs, “You did get the beer one?!”

“Of course, I did, that was made just for me!”

Erza reveals her stomach. “That’s a pretty cool sword.” Exclaims Cana, “Well, what about you guys?!” she looks at the last two girls.

Lucy and Levy both look at each other, hesitant to show what they have on.

Erza, “Come on, it can’t be bad.” she raises her eyebrow. “Do I have to do it for you?”

“No, no!” they both slowly lift their shirts.

Cana, “Oh guys you didn’t!”

Just at that moment Natsu, Gray and Gajeel walk up to the table, their interests peeked as to why the girls are all lifting their shirts.

“Hey what are you guys… doing….” Their jaws all drop.

Lucy has a Natsu charm on, Levy a Gajeel charm, and Juvia her Gray charm.

Natsu points at the blonde, “Um Luce why do you have a thing of me hanging from your belly button?”

Gajeel, “Yeah Levy, same question.”

Gray, “Juvia… never mind, I know the answer.”

“Juvia wanted to show Gray how much she loves him!” He rolls his eyes.

Lucy, “I um…”

Levy, “Well…”

Erza, “It’s just the latest rage, or so they tell me about these belly button piercings.”

Gray, “Yeah, you and Cana have normal, well sort of normal ones but they are wearing us.”

Fully red in the face, Lucy stands up and rushes out of the guild hall with Levy not far behind her, both mortified to be caught by the guys they have crushes on in this way.

“What was that all about?” Natsu and Gajeel ask at the same time.

Cana, “Are you two dense?!”

Gray sits down and props his head on his hand, “Yeah they are.”

Natsu, “Watch your mouth popsicle!”

Gajeel, “Yeah snowflake, I’m not an idiot.”

Cana, “Uh, Yeah, you are. Don’t you guys get why they ran off all embarrassed?”

Natsu and Gajeel shake their heads.

Gray, “Idiots. They like you guys!”

“Oh Crap!” Gajeel mutters and rushes after Levy.

Natsu cocks his head to the side, “I still don’t get it.”

Cana, “Natsu, Lucy has a crush on you.”

“Crush?”

Cana hits her forehead with her palm. “Ugh, Gray do you think you can explain it to him!”

Gray, “It’s like how Juvia is in love with me and that’s why she’s wearing a charm of me. Lucy is wearing the charm of you, cause she likes you.”

After processing the information, Natsu’s eyes widen and his face pales, “Oh!”

Cana waves her arms above her, “He finally gets it!”

“I better go.” The fire slayer had a long-standing affection for his best friend, but he’d been keeping it secret from her. He never thought or had any idea that she may have felt the same way…

He sprints out of the hall and heads to where he thinks Lucy would go; her apartment. But when he gets there sees the lights off and no sign of the celestial mage. Sniffing the air, figuring that she wouldn’t go too far, he tracks her to the moon lit park where he finds her sitting, leaning against their favorite trees trunk with her knees up and her head down on her arms.

“Lucy?! You were starting to worry me when I could find you.”

The scent of salt and tears linger in the air, “I just wanna be alone Natsu.”

“But why?”

“Because…”

“Of the belly thing?”

“Maybe.”

He sits down beside her, “Or is it because of how you feel about me?” but when she doesn’t respond, he puts his arm around her shoulders.

Squeezing her, “I think it’s cute on you.” That makes her sniffle.

“I think…. I look good on you…” Now she turns and looks at him with confusion.

Natsu brushes a few stray hairs away from her face, “I think…. We look good together.” Her eyes start to water again. “Oh, Luce don’t start crying! You know I hate when you cry.”

Stammering, “W-Why’d you say we look good together?”

“Because I think we do.”

“You mean just as friends, right?”

He shakes his head, “No I mean as a couple,” caressing her cheek, “Lucy I wish I had realized you felt that way about me sooner….”

“I…”

“…Cause, I like you too…” Her eyes are about ready to pop out of their sockets when he cups the back of her neck and pulls her into such a tender, romantic kiss, it surprises the young blonde to experience a more sensual side from the slayer. When he lets her go, the expression on her face is dazed and dreamy. Leaning his forehead against hers, exhale, “I like you a lot more than you probably realize.” His voice growing steadily huskier, he straightens up but continues to peer into her brightened eyes. “Why do you think I’m always around you, barely letting you out of my sight, sneaking into your apartment and crawling into your bed…”

Tilting her head, “But you said you sneak in cause you like my soft bed more than your own.”

“Yeah, well yours is better cause you’re in it, or even when you’re not home, your scent is all over it.”

“My scent?”

Just thinking about the high concentration of her arousing smell teases his mind. Closing his eyes at his memories, “It’s so intense, so soothing, and provocative all at the same time, I love to wrap my body up in your blankets,” he can’t help a moan that escapes his lips, “it drives my senses crazy.”

Lucy blinks, dumbfounded by his confession and a very lustful confession at that, “H-how’d you hide this all from me?” she stammers, “I can usually read you like a book, but I’m… I’m stumped by how to respond...”

“Trust me, it wasn’t easy. Ever notice how during specific times of the month I’d sometimes disappear for a few days alone?”

“Yeah, I just figured you needed your space…”

He shakes his head, “I can smell the changes when your hormone levels peak…and you’re um, I forget what you’d call it, in season…” he blushes, “…if I don’t leave my dragon might have tried to claim you by now.”

‘Claim me?’ her eyes widen as she makes the connection, ‘Oh!’ “I had no idea you could smell that too. But wait, that would be, she gulps, “about now…” when his grin widens.

“I know and I can control that side… somewhat, as long as nothing tempts me.”

“It’s not like I haven’t thought about it…” she mumbles, “but since I didn’t think you wanted me that way I,” her body flushes, “wrote them into my stories instead…”

His eyes flash, “so, that’s why you won’t let me read them, huh?” she nods her head as pink blotches appear on her cheeks and chest. Grinning, “So, tell me my beautiful one, what have you fantasized about?”

“I wouldn’t call them fantasies…” looking down, “Just things I think I’d like, or h-how I’d like things done…”

“Like what…” he prompts for more

“W-well I…” ‘Oh, my Mavis I can’t believe I’m about to say this!’ “…I wanna be surprised or controlled… and maybe…” exhale “… try being a little naughty in public...”

“Hmm, naughty huh?” He leans over and whispers something in her ear. Lucy’s face flushes crimson but she nods her head. Gripping her thigh, his voice grows even deeper, almost a growl that makes her shudder, “I’ll give you a 5-minute head start so… Run.”

Squealing, Lucy takes off out of the park and heads, well she’s not sure where to go. Hide-n-go-seek meets Tag… The thrill of the chase, yeah thrilling for him cause he’s got the benefit of that super sniffer of a nose! But still the idea that it’s Natsu that’s chasing her down is kinda exciting, ‘oh who am I kidding! It’s exhilarating! And what is he gonna do when he catches me?’ As she hangs a left out of the park and beelines it for the forest around Magnolia, different scenarios filter through that writer brain of hers. ‘will he take me wherever he finds me…’ she hears a noise behind her, but it’s just a cat. ‘That could be fun, a little dirty maybe…’ Lucy makes into the tree line. ‘Pin me up against…’

“Gotcha!” Natsu grabs for her waist but she slips through his fingers.

Lucy pivots and takes off through a dense thicket of trees giggling. “Not yet! Catch me if you can Baby!”

“Oooh you!” he’s got a bemused grin on his face. “I’ve got all night Luce!” and takes off after her.

The truth, and even she knows it, is that if he really wanted to snag her he could have but what’s the fun in such a short pursuit! Besides, the longer this cat and mouse game continues, the more fired up he’ll get, she’s absolutely sure of it. ‘Imagine him… all out of breath, panting like a wild animal…’ shuddering, ‘sweat rolling down his body… that toned 6-pack abs of his flexing…’ The mere thought of his body causes heat to swirl in her lower regions. ‘Mmm...’ she licks her lips, ‘and that tight ass of his… I’ve been dying to just squeeze it!’ When she reaches a small stream, she pauses for a moment. ‘It could throw my scent off… Nope, doubt it, not his nose. Plus, it’s kinda cold.’ Instead she looks for a way around it and finds a fallen log. Once on the other side she back tracks towards town again. ‘Hmm, sex, in water could be fun… especially since he can steam it up…’ chuckling in her head. ‘note that one for later…’ It’s a little uncomfortable, but Lucy can’t help the moist feeling developing in her panties…

When Natsu gets to the stream he sniffs again and locates her scent heading back towards town, but something has changed. ‘Damn she’s gone and done it now!’

By the time she reaches the edge of the city, Lucy is starting to run out of steam, her calf muscles on fire. After bracing herself against the wall of a building, she listens for any noises while trying to take a break. Breathing hard, ‘Whew, this is pretty tiring…’

In a flash something drops down from the roof in front of her and pins her against the wall. “You really thought you could get away…” Natsu’s voice rumbles with a smirk on his face and an absolute look of hunger in his eyes. With one hand restraining both wrists above her head, he leans in to taste her salty skin and his hips push roughly against hers. “…especially after secreting some of your essence…”

“Ess…ence?” she moans when his teeth graze the nape of her neck.

“Essence…” Natsu shoves his hand under her skirt and rubs the damp part between her legs sending more of her intoxicating scent wafting into the air. Her knees wanna buckle but he holds her firm. “You’ve woke him up Luce…” eyes rolling over for a second and he growls from deep within his throat. Groaning when he clamps down on her earlobe, Lucy shudders again when his hand grabs hold of her ass. “I should take you right here…”

“Do it…” she purrs, “…but you might wake the whole neighborhood.”

“So…”

“Wouldn’t you love it if I was screaming your name, my fiery dragon?”

“Yes,” he nips her ear, “but I thought you wanted the excitement of having sex in a public place.”

“Fuck, you’ve got me there Natsu… it could be fun…” she raises one of her legs around his hip, “…for a little while to try.”

“Tch,” his hand moves from her ass to the thigh and squeezes, “Fine, then I’ll finish plundering you at my cottage.”

“Sounds like a plan…” she purrs.

He tears off her panties, sharp nails sure come in handy in this situation and she reaches in to give his cock some freedom; benefit of drawstring pants... After letting go of her wrists, he braces her against the wall and lifts one of her legs off the ground where she lines the head up with her moist entrance. Just that light bit of contact for the two soft surfaces is enough to send Natsu’s animal over the edge. He pushes through the tight hole, stretching it wide for the first time in her life and his. “Damn…” letting out a growl more from surprise of how snug the fit is.

Lucy digs her nails into his back, for the initial pain was tense, but luckily, once her body adjusts to his girth that shock goes away and is replaced with a much more pleasurable pressure release. “Natsu…”

He rocks his hips, slowly at first to gauge her reactions. The whole idea of being out in the open wasn’t really a fantasy of his, but he wanted to give her what she wanted and frankly, there was no way to contain the carnal desires he had for her. Over and over he drives the shaft against her walls till skin slaps against skin. “Luce…” he moans, “So, Is this… what… you wanted?”

“I thought so…” she responds back, though her voice is strained. “I mean…it is… you feel… amazing but… I think… your cottage would be better…”

“I agree…” As much as he doesn’t want to stop, he knows he better do it now before it goes any further and won’t be able to so he pulls out and lets her down for a second to shove his rock-hard dick back in his pants. But before she can do or say anything, he picks her up and throws her over his shoulder taking off at a sprint towards his home like a caveman with his prize. Fortunately for the them both, she had stopped very near to it and within minutes he was through the door, stopping only when he reaches his bed where he drops her. “Now you are gonna get it!” He grins and proceeds to unceremoniously tear off the rest of her clothes. Once his are off too, he plows right back in, picking up where he left off.

Sitting back on his haunches he lifts her hips and lines up, snapping back in roughly. “Fuck!” she curses from the hard and quick thrusts, grunting and like a wild animal. With his back arched he pushes over and over driving deep into her cave and by the look of his face, it’s clear that he’s aiming for a minute man march rather than a marathon. “Natsu… Slow… down… or you’ll finish too soon!”

Damn it she was right! Growling, “But fuck Luce, this is so much better than I had imagined!” he squeezes her thighs with a final push, then slumps over to latch onto her breast.

“Me too…” she moans as his tongue pulses and fondles her nipples. ‘If this is really a dream, I hope I never wake up!’ Lucy’s mind is on overload. Hell, just a couple hours ago, she had donned a simple piece of costume jewelry to have him with her all the time and now… she had the flesh and blood man screwing her senseless!

Natsu attempts to slow down by focusing on other areas of her body, wanting to worship the golden goddess as he had done so many times in his dreams and daydreams but in reality; the sheer potency of her being there, really being there, in his arms and in his bed, finally becoming his… was just too much and the spirit within him demands he complete the task at hand and stake his claim.

Resuming his invasion with a reinvigorated fervor he works her swollen pussy from the missionary position. She goads his hip movements, and partially controls it by keeping her legs around his so he grabs one of her thighs and lifts it higher above his waist. With just that slight adjustment, his reach into her core increases but it also rubs the blonde in such a stimulating manner, she starts to writhe beneath him. “Natsu…” she cries out. “Don’t stop… Don’t… stop…” He’s unwittingly found her g’spot.

“But Luce…” he groans, “I’ll cum if I don’t slow down again…”

“Natsu don’t you dare stop��” she screams, “Don’t…” her voice strangles in her throat and her body seizes up in a mind-blowing orgasm. “Natsu!!!”

The walls of her channel constrict around his shaft and squeezes the slayers final pulses right out from him. “Whoa! Shit!!” he cries out as he explodes too, but manages to keep rocking his hips through the throbbing waves until it’s over.

With his chest heaving he slumps on top of her completely spent but pinning the blonde while he normalizes...

Pushing himself to sit back on his haunches, he notices the charm’s silver edging glinting from the moonlight that filters in. “It’s like I’m cheering myself on…” he chuckles.

“Seriously?” The blonde laughs but it dies out when she notices a new look on the slayers face, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

A flash of red in his eyes, “You belong to me now Luce…” When he smiles she notices his canines seem longer, “and I’ll never let you go…”

*The cheering myself on line is a quote I took from my husband, the idea for this story came from him.

#nalu love fest 2017 #bonus days #prompts games & piercing #nalu fanfiction #Nalu

46 notes · View notes