#also my middle finger is infected now because that talk made me nervous and i accidently peeled the skin off my finger like a potato

[lookingforthesilverstars]

that moment when, after 7 years of depression, you finally manage to get yourself some help and the therapist tells you that you don't seem like you're suffering that much

[secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer]

Five Thousand Miles

Warning: Angst, descriptions of covid patients’ suffering, hospitals

A/n: I researched a lot about what covid patients go through in a hospital and their treatments but still took a couple creative liberties so I apologise if the descriptions aren’t accurate. Do tell me how you liked it!

Summary: Y/n tests positive for covid-19 and has to be hospitalised. Her boyfriend, Harry is five thousand miles away from her.

“Harry, I’m scared,” Y/n confessed as she readied herself, struggling with wearing her mask and gloves while also balancing her phone to continue talking to her boyfriend on FaceTime.  

“It’ll be alright, you are taking every precaution you can. Plus, you have to get out of the house sometime, you can’t survive on air alone. Trust me, baby, you can do this.”

Harry’s voice was keeping her grounded, she wanted to continue talking to him but knew it would be impossible to shop and talk to him at the same time, so she nodded at him, “You’re right. Okay, I’ll call you when I get back. Safely.”

Taking a deep breath, she went out the door to a world of germs, people, and newly acquired viruses.

Being in the middle of a pandemic alone wasn’t her favourite situation to be in. It felt better when she had company, people who would help her buy the essentials. As soon as situations eased up a bit, her quarantine partners left New York to be with their families. She was all alone now.  

Looking at all the empty streets, Y/n was left with a weird sensation. The city that never slept had never been quieter. She was so used to being woken up by car horns and car alarms in the morning that during the first few weeks of lockdown, she found it hard to wake before noon. This quiet was almost poetic, like the stuff of post-apocalyptic films. Y/n wasn’t sure if the silence comforted her or terrified her.

There were more people in the store than she had expected, though all in their masks, she breathed in relief. She went straight to the personal hygiene section, remembering the most important item on her list, only to find that the store was all out of toilet papers, the one thing films didn’t guess would be a big problem. She rolled her eyes at the selfish people who had panic-bought more stuff than they would have needed.

She tried every store near her neighbourhood, and eventually was able to get the last set in the final shop she visited. Tired from driving all over the city in search of toilet papers, she went to the check-out line to finally buy her stuff. 

Standing in her place, Y/n noticed the people in the store, few whose foreheads were furrowed, their eyes darting around making sure they were maintaining the mandated distance from others, panic evident on their mask-covered faces. Some others appeared plain bored. Already used to the new routine and just wanting to get it over with. 

She was so lost her observations, she almost didn’t hear it, the woman behind her in the line coughed loudly, making people jump farther apart than the required six feet.

“It’s just allergies,” the woman announced in a nasal voice, rolling her eyes at people’s reaction. 

As Y/n’s turn came at the check-out counter, she found herself frozen to the ground, she didn’t know why but the cough threw her off. It felt weird to react the way she did, but she could not make herself move. She was nervous. She wanted to laugh at herself for feeling this way because of a measly cough, but it wasn’t so simple and right now all she felt was fear.

“Oh for god’s sake,” the woman moved forward, pushing her aside and placed her items at the counter. Even the employee there seemed wary, but knew he had to comply to keep his job.

It was only after the woman left, was Y/n finally able to move, she shook her head as if to shake the incident away from her mind and finally paid for her items.

She ran all the way home, even though she knew she shouldn’t have. She couldn’t help herself, she just wanted to move away from the public and into the safety of her home as soon as she could. 

As she entered her house, Y/n felt her chest tighten, as though someone was sitting on it, she couldn’t breathe properly. It felt like she was breathing through a squished straw. 

In between her wheezing, she searched around for her inhaler in her side bag. She felt her breath coming back a few seconds after she breathed in the medicine. She fell to her knees in exhaustion and took in a few more breaths to calm down.

She then picked herself up and embarked on an extensive set of tasks- Taking off her gloves and mask, removing her shoes at the entrance of her house, washing her hands. But, this somehow didn’t seem enough to her, so she went ahead and took another shower, just to be extra sure.

While in the shower, she cursed her asthma. It wasn’t usually a big hurdle in her life, but now, everything was a hundred times worse. This was the first time she had feared for her life. Her anxiety was at an all-time high and all she had to keep her sane was her daily FaceTime calls with Harry.

Opening her laptop to do her work, she checked the numbers again- seventy thousand new cases. She sighed and closed her laptop, not having the motivation to do any work. She scrolled through her social media to distract herself only to be shoved more news about the coronavirus, she let out a groan of frustration and switched off her phone, deciding to take a nap instead.

Only she couldn’t sleep. She thought back to all the plans she made with Harry, promising him to be there next to him while he toured the globe. She laughed at the situation and how no one in a million years could have guessed the current world state.

She didn’t know when she fell asleep, but she must have as she woke up with a jolt in her bed after a strange dream. She shook her head and looked out her window to see the sky dark. She switched on her phone, it was 8 pm. She cursed to see three missed calls from Harry and one from her friend, Sarah.

Preparing herself, she called Harry. 

“Where were you, I called like three times?” His voice was deeper than usual, she guessed he had just woken up because of her call. She calculated it to be 4 am in London, where Harry was. She felt bad for waking him up like that.

“I know, I switched off my phone and fell asleep. Sorry,” she grimaced.

Harry hummed in acknowledgement, “how you doing?”

She could hear rustling on the other side and imagined a sleepy Harry sitting up in his bed, his hair messy from his sleep, “Just missing ya’.”

“I know, I hate that I had to leave you like that, wish you could come with me,” there was a hint of a whine in Harry’s voice which made Y/n smile.

“Wish I had a visa for England, I really wanted to come too,” and she meant that. At least that way, she wouldn’t have to be alone.

“I’ll video call you tomorrow, it’s late here, or rather early,” what he was saying next was obscured by his yawn. She sighed, she missed him too much.

“Yeah sure, see you tomorrow, bye.”

“Bye.”

When the call disconnected, she messaged Sarah to ask what the call was about, who didn’t respond. She shrugged her shoulders and went down to the kitchen to start preparing for dinner.

~

It started with a headache. She didn’t ponder much on it and instead only took medicine to curb the pain enough to continue working. 

It was when she felt a certain roughness in her throat, did she pay attention. Her cough worsened within days, she was having a hard time breathing normally. It felt like a less severe but constant asthma attack. She took her temperature, which showed her to be having a fever at 101°F. 

It took her some time to even process what was happening to her, she initially wondered if it could be the flu or something non-covid, but she knew she couldn’t take the chances. Harry was the first person she informed.

“What are you saying?!” Harry was frantic, his forehead creased as he ran his fingers through his hair, messing them up.

“I have a fever, a cough, and I’m having difficulty breathing,” counting the symptoms on her fingers, she informed him again.

“It could be the flu, Y/n you didn’t even go outside. How could it be anything else?”

“H, I did go out to buy supplies, didn’t I? Maybe I got infected there somehow. We shouldn’t be kidding ourselves. I have to at least get tested.” You didn’t want to show him just how scared you were, but it was hard to keep your voice from cracking.

“I am scared, H,” you let the tears out. Your shoulders shook while you tried to wipe your tears as they were leaking from your eyes.

Harry closed his eyes, not being able to see you sobbing, “I know baby, but I know you’ll be strong. I will take the next flight to LA. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He promised, his mouth set in a hard line as a strong look of determination crossed his face.

  She shook her head with as much strength she could muster, “No Harry, you shouldn’t keep travelling, plus, you can’t stay with me and I don’t want you staying at some hotel. It’s not safe.”

“Bu—”

“—I won’t hear another word about it. I have Sarah, and you have your work to take care of. I will be fine.”

She knew Harry wanted to say more, object to her claims, she would not be fine. But he knew it would be of no use, once she had made up her mind, it would be impossible to change it. So, he settled for a low nod.

“Keep me updated, I’ll also talk to Sarah. She better be there for it all. You should now call your doctor, see what’s the next step.”

Y/n nodded, smiling that Harry understood. She didn’t want to trouble him. She also wanted to pretend for a few more seconds that this was not a big deal.

She called Dr Gupta, her heart was beating at an all-time high and her energy was at an all-time low. She barely had enough breath to tell her doctor about her situation who booked an appointment for her to go to the nearest covid testing facility.

She took a deep breath, wore her protective gear and drove to the testing lab which was a ten-minute drive from her place. She was already out of breath by the time she reached the place.

When she was done with her test, she felt worse than she had before. Sarah called to check in on her, but Y/n didn’t have the energy to talk so Sarah video-called her, seeing Y/n’s face would have to be enough for her at that point.

Sarah’s eyes softened, seeing her best friend heaving, eyes shut and groaning due to her chest pain. But she knew, more than anything, her best friend was scared.

“I hope with everything that I am that the test comes back negative,” her voice was tinged with worry and genuine hope.

Y/n could only nod.

The call came two days later, Y/n sat up in her bed, she had been dreading this moment these past days, with Harry and Sarah to distract her.

The test came back positive.

She fell back into her bed, cushioned by her pillow and started shaking uncontrollably as she sobbed.

She felt insanely dehydrated by the time she stopped crying, she didn’t even get to call either of her friends. She stood up with a groan, and following one slow step after the other, she went to the bathroom to wash her now tear-stained face.

The call she made to Harry wasn’t an easy one. She knew he would take the news worse than she had, and her reaction was not a light one.

“I prayed. I promise I prayed Y/n,” his words were almost indecipherable in between his cries. His every tear followed the other with a ferocity never before noticed by Y/n.

Her own tears followed suite, she was so sure she had finished up all her tears, but she was proven wrong. Soon, the only conversation happening between the two was through their sobs.

She wanted to curse all the gods, she didn’t want to go through the pains of having this disease and she didn’t want to do it alone. Even though she had Harry and Sarah standing right beside her, knowing they would not be able to meet her in person, she had never felt more alone.

“I don’t feel good, H,” she confessed. Breathing was becoming difficult day by day, she would rather have an asthma attack twice a day than having this constant pressure on her chest and throat. She knew she had to tell him, “I have to get admitted to the hospital first thing in the morning tomorrow, they say my covid could be worsened because of my asthma,” she let out in between a series of coughs stopping her after every word.

Harry nodded, his heartbeat rising. He cursed himself for leaving his girlfriend alone in the country. If he hadn’t left, she would not be going through this, “I’ll tell Sarah, you go rest,” he promised, seeing it get increasingly difficult for her to even sit up in her bed.

If Y/n was scared before, then the hospital made it thousand times worse. It was a scary sight, the covid ward was in an isolated area of the hospital, the doctors and nurses were in full PPE kits, the patients were lined up next to each other separated by curtains. She passed a room with ICU written on the glass door. With what she could see, she noticed several other patients, some with masks covering their nose, probably providing oxygen. Others seemed in worse conditions, they were intubated via ventilators. 

Seeing them facing the same crisis together, although away from their families, but forming a new family of sorts in solidarity to their conditions gave her little comfort. Those who wore the nasal masks and thus still had the ability to talk were speaking to each other, even reading something from their phones to those who were on ventilators. Covid had seemed like a situation she would have to go through alone, her initial views though were changing.

She was admitted to the regular covid ward, with the rest of the non-critical patients and would be observed overnight. She was assisted with oxygen through a nasal mask, just like the people around her, she had noticed.

“Hey, I’m Cecilia, call me Cece,” a thirty-something woman introduced herself from beside you. The curtain was partially open, allowing Y/n to see only her face.

“Y/n, nice to meet you,” she called back, smiling as much her energy would allow.

“Never guessed this is how I would be spending my lockdown,” she laughed lightly, pointing to her mask. She then followed it up with a cough, groaning with the strain.

Y/n felt bad for her, only to be subjected to the same.

These were going to be some long days. Though she did feel better knowing she would not be facing this alone. She looked around the room, at probably twenty patients around her, in the same situation as her, if not in worse conditions. She then thought back to the people in the ICU and what they must be subjected to.

Her phone brought her attention to itself, it was Harry FaceTiming her; putting on a smile, she picked up the call. 

“Hey handsome,” she suggestively raised her eyebrows, not wanting to worry him any further.

Harry did not even notice her words, he was too busy gawking at her nasal mask, “what is that?” worry coating his voice.

“Oh just my new accessory, you like it?” although Y/n wanted to look nonchalant, the pain in her voice could not be hidden, she sighed, “They are giving me oxygen through this.”

Harry’s eyebrows were knitted together in worry, Y/n wanted to make him feel better. She could not rest knowing her love was out there worrying about her, “Look I made a friend,” she turned the camera to Cece laying next to her six feet apart, “Cece, say hi to my boyfriend, Harry.”

She had forgotten her boyfriend was a big deal but was reminded of it by Cece’s gasp, “Harry freaking Styles ohmigod ohmigod,” Cece squealed, making Y/n forget for a second that she was not a teenager.

“Hullo love,” Harry greeted her in his ‘fan voice’, a smile graced her lips. “Hope you beat covid and get better soon.” Cece’s smile made Y/n realise how long these people had gone without having a reason to smile and how desperately they needed it. 

 Cece’s squeal garnered the attention of the people around them. Noticing the pop icon on the phone screen, conversations started flowing between everybody. Introductions were made, friendships were formed and smiles were passed around, along with Y/n’s phone. So, she asked a nearby nurse if they could access a bigger screen so everyone could see and talk to her boyfriend.

When the staff hooked up a screen, Harry gave all the patients an impromptu concert. Y/n had not smiled in days the way this concert had made her. She expected fear, anxiety, deaths and instead got friends, laughter, and music.

When Harry was done performing for his audience, he gave her a brief look. “I love you,” she whispered to him, smiling when he returned the words.

The next day, she was woken up by the noises around her, she panicked for a moment, not recognising the place she was in; but calmed when she regained her senses and noticed the blue curtains of the hospital, several machines and the people they were attached to. 

She made a short conversation with Cece but had to stop because she was getting out of breath. With every passing moment, her chest pain too was increasing. She did keep listening to people chat around her. Some were on calls with their family, others were busy reading books and listening to music. She kept getting shouts of gratitude from the people in the ward for Harry the previous night.

For the next two days, that kept her going. She learned about her fellow patients, Jonathan was 59 years old, his son was an engineer and he couldn’t have been more proud; Jaya was a 42-year-old woman with bronchitis and wanted to visit Paris at least once in her life. Marc was a 50-year-old diabetic who was in a band in the 80s, they were planning a reunion show. She met countless people, each with their own stories. 

At about 10 am on a Thursday, her situation worsened. The doctors had come for a routine checkup, only to see that her oxygen levels were dropping steadily and she needed immediate assistance.

She was shifted to the ICU ward. She had to be intubated and thus was given a board and marker to write anything if she wanted.

“—Yes sir, she was shifted to the ICU this morning—”

“—We can’t say much right now, but we’ll inform you if anything changes—”

“—Okay, take care, Sir.”

Y/n heard bits and pieces of the conversation her doctor was having with Harry, although since she was on medication, she couldn’t register much of it. The nurses brought her phone to her, a silhouette moving on the screen.

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?”

Y/n pondered how to describe the immense pain burning through her respiratory passage and the lack of oxygen eating away her lungs and not give him nightmares. So, she offered him a tired thumbs up.

Harry watched his girlfriend cough, her face contorting in pain and could not control his tears, he didn’t want to think about the worst-case scenario but could not stop his mind from going there. He knew how low the chances were of people on ventilators coming back. But he had to remain positive, someone had to. She needed him to be strong for her. So, he wiped away his tears, put on his best brave face and talked to her.

He called her every three hours. Giving updates to her about his day, talking to her about whatever he could. He talked enough to compensate for the silence on her part. She smiled through every sentence, even though he could not see it, even though it wasn’t visible on her face, even though she didn’t have the power to, she smiled.

And she listened. So she didn’t have to focus on Josephine dying next to her or Augusta who was a hair length’s distance away from dying the previous day. Even though doctors told her that her situation was worsening, she listened because that became the only thing keeping her from giving up.

As her pains didn’t go away, and her condition worsened further, she was given sedatives and was thus mostly asleep. Which she was thankful for, for she couldn’t take it anymore, she just wanted to rest.

Dr Garcia came by routinely to check on her, talking to her about the outside world, gave her the gossips being passed around the hospital. Even though she was barely awake to listen to any of it, she was thankful for the kind doctor providing a calm lull while doing her job.

“Mr Styles, I’m afraid her condition isn’t getting any better. She should have shown atleast some improvements,” Dr Garcia informed Harry in a heavy voice.

On the other side of the line, Harry didn’t know what to do, it felt like someone was pulling away the floor under him. “What happens now?” He asked, praying for some hopeful news.

“We really can’t say much, each case is different, but it would be better uhm,” the doctor was thinking through her words, wanting to be as considerate as possible, “is there any family of hers that would want to talk to her?”

Harry almost let out a sob as he realised what the doctor was implying ‘is there anyone who would want to give her a final goodbye?’

“No, Y/n’s family passed away in an accident when she was 16, it’s just me and Sarah,” he explained, his voice on the verge of cracking, it was becoming harder to get words out of his mouth. He didn’t want to talk anymore, he just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.

“Oh, I understand,” Dr Garcia nodded, feeling sorry for the young girl who had stolen the hearts of everyone in the ward. She was a sweet girl, who had dreams and still held love for life even after everything she had seen. “This is not the end, Harry, she can still recover, God, I pray she does, this is not the end.” She really believed the words she was saying and wanted Harry to feel the same.

He nodded, tears clouding his eyes. He too really wanted to believe that.

A beat of silence fell upon the conversation, both in deep thought, “Harry, she wrote something on her board when she was awake yesterday,” Harry’s ears pricked up, “she wrote and I quote ‘I will not give up’ with a smiley face at the end. She is a fighter, you remember that,” Dr Garcia gave her parting ways and went back to her work.

Y/n’s words were imprinted in Harry’s mind. After the call, he made himself more presentable, wiping his tears and drove up to the church near Y/n’s house. He had come back to LA after Y/n was admitted to the ICU. He couldn’t be five thousand miles away from her in that condition.

The church was almost empty, which was surprising to Harry, given the situation, but he wasn’t complaining. He walked up the aisle, his hand grazing each wooden bench as he reached the altar and kneeled. He didn’t what to pray or how to pray, but he tried anyway. He closed his eyes and called out to God; he prayed with every part in his body, with every bone, every muscle, every fibre of being for his love to get better. For her to keep fighting. And for him to gain enough strength to deal with it all.

All this time, he had been feeling so helpless, not being able to do anything to make her better. But he made peace with the fact that the only thing he could do right now was to have faith. To have faith in God to guide him and her, in Y/n to be the stubborn strong-willed woman that she was and continue fighting, he had faith in his faith and that it would not disappoint.

He stayed there, talking to God until the closing hours. He then went back to Y/n’s place and sat on the sofa, waiting by his mobile, ready for any phone call he might receive.

He was awoken the next day by his phone ringing on the coffee table next to him. He looked at the time, it was noon, he picked up.

“Congratulations Harry, she’s getting better,” the relief was evident in Dr Garcia’s voice.

Harry felt himself getting physically lighter.

“I mean there is still a long way to go, but her oxygen levels are rising, her lungs are recovering, she’ll be soon able to breathe on her own. Harry, she did it, she won,” Harry didn’t listen to the rest of what the doctor was saying, he was too busy falling in love with the love of his life. It felt like he himself had come back from the dead. He knew his faith could never disappoint.

“Thank you doctor, I’ll be waiting for the call when you tell me she’s tested negative,” he laughed, his lungs breathing in air after what felt like a lifetime.

Dr Garcia chuckled along with him and agreed, telling him Y/n would call him when she woke up.

~

“You know I love you right? My fighter,” Harry tightened his grip on her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Y/n’s head fell back as laughter bubbled out of her, “You just told me that like two minutes ago.”

“I know, but a few weeks ago I thought I would never get to say it to you ever again. So, I will keep reminding you every minute that I love you and that you are the strongest person I know,” he snaked his arms around her, placing his head on top of hers, “I really missed holding you.”

She breathed in Harry’s scent, slowly regaining her sense of smell, she had missed this too. She cupped his cheek with her right hand and gave him a light peck.

Harry grabbed the back of her head, keeping her lips on his, deepening the kiss. When they separated, he rested his forehead against hers, not wanting her to move even an inch away from him.

Noticing her deep breaths, he whispered in her ears, “This is the only reason I want you to be out of breath. This and well... the other one,” he smirked.

“Oh hush you,” Y/n blushed, she sucked in a breath through her teeth, “Shit man, I love you.”

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

✨ Seven days of:

DAY #1.

✨ REQUEST: Congrats again on the 1000k, a testament to your awesome writing. Could I request bishop on a first date with a single Mother please ❤️

✨ MADE BY: @narfea

WORDS: about 1.5k

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted ❤

❚❙ OBISPO ‘BISHOP’ LOSA MASTERLIST.

❚❙ MASTERLIST.

❚❙ JOIN MY TAG LIST.

It's the first time in years that you have a date, and you would be lying if you say that you aren't nervous, turning around in front of the mirror to check again how good that tight black dress fits your body. At first you were reticent to the idea, but Bishop has been insisting since he met you two months ago. When you threw over him a coffee, after being pushed by a rude customer in the cafeteria you work at.

Ready, sweetly perfumed and grabbing your bag and your jacket, you step out to the living room. Your five years old son is eating pizza on the sofa, while watching a cartoon movie on TV. You're worried of leaving him there, even if Grace is going to take care of him. She knows exactly where to find you in case something happened.

“Matt”. You call him, kneeling close to him. “Behave as the good little man you are, okay?”

“Yeah, mom. Have fun”. Wrapping your neck with his tiny arms, he leaves a short kiss in your lips.

“Te amo, mi chiquito”. You mumble, poking the tip of his nose.

Walking out of your house, by holding Bishop's arm, you can't help but feel excited for having some time with him with a bar between both and an awful boss with his eyes on you the whole shift. The man is happy too, showing it to you through the grin constantly installed on his face, guiding you to the black car stationed in front of your sidewalk. The moment he opens you the door, you know that he's pretty different from what you had heard about El Presidente of Mayans.

“Thank you”. You mumble for a second, taking a seat on the copilot place.

Talking about your day and some funny situation you have been through today, Bishop drives to the surrounds of Santo Padre, where a new mexican restaurant has opened a few weeks ago, close to the border.

It's such a nice place decorated with lights of all colors and typical stuff from Mexico, like poncho, big sparrow hats, katrinas and a lot of bottles of Don Julio. It has a huge and wide terrace, a crowded one with people from all around the both sides of the border, enjoying their dinner while talking. A bartender brings you to the booked table by Bishop on the last day, helping you to sit like a gentleman before taking a place in front of you.

“You like the site?”

“Yeah! It's really… beautiful. And it's the first time in, I don't know, like years that I don't have some time for me”. You confess them, while he intertwines his fingers with yours over the table. “Thank you. You know… for the date”.

“You don't have to. Sounds like I'm not going to have fun”.

His laugh infects you, shaking your head slightly before being interrupted by the same bartender, who has led you to your table minutes ago.

It's amazing how easy it is to open yourself to him, just like Bishop does. Since you sat there, you haven't stopped talking about everything. Work, hobbies, life, concerns about existence… You're not only discovering things about him, nice ones you must say, but about you too. Matt's father never let you talk this much, usually getting bored of whatever you like to speak about, or simply telling you not now, or I don't want to hear your shit. You have always felt off with him, until one day you decided to end that life of silence, of feeling small by his side, of living inhibited.

Now, it seems like you have a new opportunity with another man. A man who is respectful, who cares about you, about your son. A man who really looks like he wants to be with you. And even if you tried hard to not make illusions about it, you couldn't help it. You couldn't help but imagine how it would be to live under the same roof. How would be seeing Matt growing up with someone like Bishop.

But what feels like the perfect night is suspended by an unexpected call from Grace.

“Don't be scared, okay?”

You are already scared.

“Matt has fallen from the stairs. He's okay. He just has a bump, but we're in the hospital”.

Everything after that last word happens too fast. Bishop pays the bill and takes you to the car parked outside, driving quickly to the center town. Running through the hallways and dodging other people there, you find the waiting area.

Your son is sitting on Grace's lap, licking a lollipop and with his eyes reddened after crying. Throwing the sweet to the floor, he jumps to it to run towards you. Raising him up between your arms, you hold your kid against your chest as tight as you can.

“You okay, mijo?”

The man places a hand on the back of Matt's head, gently caressing it. He nods ashamed, resting his cheek against your chest.

“Does it hurt, baby?”

Your son shakes his head this time, wrapping your neck with his arms covered by his pajamas. You can see Bishop taking off his jacket to put it over him, showing you a sincere smile, before going to talk with Grace.

“I'm sorry, mama”.

“It's okay, baby, don't worry”. You sigh, leaving a soft kiss on his temple.

You feel bad for the man, having failed to enjoy the night you promised him. Having to act like your chofer, to bring you back home. And you feel bad for the illusions you have made, breaking into pieces inside you. You don't blame Matt, or Grace. You couldn't and it wouldn't be fair. You blame yourself, being aware that you were the one who should be taking care of your son. Because, yes, that could happen to you two, but you wouldn't drag anyone else to it.

After tucking Matt in bed and waiting for him to be asleep, you leave his door half-closed, coming back downstairs to the living room. Bishop is having a look at your photographs together, around the years, around California and that time you went to Disney.

“He is finally sleeping”. You say, calling his attention.

“He feels good?”

Pressing your lips, you shrug your shoulders.

“Listen… I'm so sorry about what happened. It's okay if you… don't wanna call me again, I would tot—”.

“And miss another adventure in the hospital?” He chuckles interrupting you, tilting his neck to a side. “This has been by far the best date I have ever had”.

You know he's just trying to add some humor to the night and you also know he's just trying to make you feel better, but that doesn't change the fact that you're aware he's not going to call you again, or to propose to you a second date.

“I have to leave, got to wake up early tomorrow”.

“Okay”.

With a hand on the back of your neck and another holding yours, he places his lips on your left cheek. A kiss that feels like a goodbye. Even if he shows you a last smile, you can't help but feel sad seeing him leaving your house.

Sitting on your sofa and pressing a cushion against your face, you let the tears filling your eyes wet the fabric. You don't want to wake up Matt, you don't want to make him feel bad for something that wasn't his fault.

Knocking on his door and opening it to find him reading a comic on his bed, you come in to caress his hair.

“Lunch is ready, baby”.

Tossing it over the mattress, he jumps off from it, to follow you to the kitchen. The bump is less swollen and he hasn't complained about it yet. Putting his plate full of macaroni with tomato and cheese in front of his face, you're about to sit too when the doorbell rings. Weirded out, you go to the entrance to attend the call by opening it.

Bishop turns around, taking off the sunglasses from his eyes, with a gentle smile drawn on his lips. You're surprised. And he's confused because of that.

“Can I come in?”

“Ye—Yeah”. You answer, taking some steps back to give him more space.

“How's him?”

“Feeling better. We just… started to eat lunch. Do you… wanna stay?”

You don't understand why he has come, but you're feeling again the tickles in your belly when he nods closing the door.

“Without counting yesterday, I'm not sure when it was the last time I ate something decent”.

Leaning towards you, he kisses your cheek again like last night. But this time, it feels different. It feels like you really have a second choice. And you can't help but hug him, with your arms around his middle back. Bishop chuckles embracing you without doubting, kissing your forehead before you hide your face under his chin.

“I was being serious last night, querida. I wouldn't let someone like you escape from me”.

[ranposlittle]

Hi! I can’t see anything that says requests are closed but I’m sorry if I’m mistaken! Could you do a Dazai and (female) reader smut with lots of dirty talk and foreplay? I can’t find anything that really suits my... style of horny... I like when he’s kinda possessive and dominate so yeah... sorry if this is too detailed or just straight up weird 😖 and I have no sense of dignity so I’m not even going to do this anonymously lmao

Genre: NSFW

Tags: First time together, Dirty talking, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Foreplay

{ A/N: I gotcha, misty-mochiii~ 😉 haha I'm sorry, I know this is long overdue! I hope you can forgive me. I hope the foreplay and dirty talking is up to your liking~ my skills in the dirty talking department is really questionable so I hope it didn't reflected on my work very much haha! Anyway, feel free to request again! Thank you for your endless support! Enjoyyy! 💗🥰 }

˚ * . ⊹ • ꒰꒱ • ⊹. * ˚

The warmth of Dazai’s hand on yours battles the cold wind of this fateful evening but it's nothing compared to the coldness of your sweating palm. The street you are strutting down on is dim but perfectly alive and busy regardless of the hour. Neon signs flash everywhere, tantalizing promises are written on them for every lovers passing by.

Your throat is dry and your head is pounding from the sound of your own heartbeat. Despite being in this part of the city before, it’s the first time to share a night with the man who’s holding you right now. Expectations failed to form and any attempt to think of one quickly bubbles up and evaporates out of your mind.

Dazai looked back and flashed you a familiar comforting smile and you smiled back, but the concern on your crooked eyebrows is not easy to hide.

Finally, you stopped at the love hotel by the end of the street. Your knees shook slightly as you step inside and the banging of your heart just became louder once a room key was dropped on Dazai’s hand. The whirring of the elevator and the footsteps you took towards your assigned room drowned out of your head. You’re nervous, excited. Feelings stirred and clashed with each second passed.

The click of the door as it opened pulled you back on earth. The room smelled of flowers and the air conditioning hummed softly in the background. Dazai walked in nonchalantly while you tremble. He guided you on to the bed, the soft hues of colorful lights almost making you dizzy. He sat down beside you, caressing your flushed cheek with one hand.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?” He asked in a hushed voice while your own is stuck somewhere inside your sandy throat.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Or have I read your signals all wrong?” Dazai spoke as he leaned forward to place a kiss at the tip of your nose. 

You gathered your thoughts together to reply hastily in fear of the possibility that you might never get this opportunity again.

“No, I-” you drew a deep breath. “This is what I want. I want this.”

He hummed. “Good. I thought I had to stop when I’m already so hungry for you.”

You restrained a yip when Dazai pushed your body down the springy mattress. Not a second was wasted as he claimed control over you in an instant, pressing your wrists down while his lips ravaged yours.

Months of teasing and sexual tension between the two of you snapped in a blink of time. The fire that has been burning in the furnace of your core, now blazing brightly as it consumes the entirety of your being. You can barely feel the cold air circulating the room from Dazai’s hot breath fanning on your neck as he liberally taste every spot he could latch on. One of his hand eventually reached down to palm the building arousal on your sex, letting out your first loud moan of the night.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dazai chuckled. His husky voice making its way to the inner corners of your ear. “Was I being too fast? That won’t do. This is our first night. I ought to do it right, don’t you think?”

A pleading look on your eyes was your only response.

“Don’t worry, my darling.” His lips made its way down on your neck once again. “I will kiss every inch of you before I fuck you.”

The sentence made you clenched. Your flesh ached more for him. Your skin turned paper thin, responding eagerly to every feathery touch.

“You wouldn’t mind if I remove your shirt now, would you? It’s in my way.” He threw you a smirk. There, you were left speechless. Only managing to watch as his fingers hooked and pushed your shirt up.

His hands stopped on the underside of your breasts. The cold breeze started to infect your exposed stomach before Dazai's sloppy kisses awoke the butterflies resting within.

Your head planted down on the soft pillow underneath you from the unexpected sensation. His tongue dragged its way up to the valley of your breasts, teasingly pulled your shirt completely off of you and ogled the dark lingerie you have underneath.

"You wore this especially for me, huh?" He asked, gently palming the thin lace covering, thumbs brushing innocently on your perked up nubs. "How thoughtful of you. And because of that, I'll be kind in return by not ripping them off."

True to his words, Dazai just pushed the fabric aside to come in skin to skin contact with your breasts. He kept his lustful gaze locked on yours as he went down and licked one of your nipples.

"Do you have any idea how long I've been wanting to do this?" An almost innocent smile was drawn on his lips as he continued. "I've always wondered what you're hiding under those clothes and I'm truly not disappointed. Such nice pair of tits you got here."

Dazai chuckled lightly, proceeding to knead and suck on your breasts, moving from one to another without a moment of pause. Your moans joined in with his, your head spinning from the sensation he keeps on building up inside of you. Dazai's hand found its way past your skirt and down to your underwear, running his middle finger up and down your slit.

"What's this? You're this wet already? Do you like getting your tits sucked this much?" Dazai asked rhetorically. Of course, you like it. No, you love it. Especially that it's him who's doing it to you. "What an erotic woman. I bet you already want my finger inside you, don't you?"

"Yes," you whispered. "I do. Please, I'm so wet, I might die if you don't do something about it now. Like, right now."

An amused laugh left Dazai. "Well, how can I say no to that?"

He shifted his hand from its current spot to slip underneath your panties. You inhaled sharply as his fingers slithered their way into your core, where everything is just slick and soaked.

"Besides," he added. "Good girls who knows how to ask get what they want."

A finger promptly entered you as you scream in delight. You peeped open your eyes to see Dazai devilishly watching you writhe beneath him as he fiddled with you like a toy.

"You're so tight down here. Seems like you haven't had a cock in you for a while now, hmm?"

You nodded weakly.

"Good thing I planned to use mine on you tonight, then. Such a tight pussy deserves to be stretched out every once in awhile, don't you agree?"

Another weak nod.

"And would you like me to do that for you? Do you want my cock inside you?"

This time, a much more enthusiastic nod.

"Hmm, and do you think you can handle it? Once I put it in, there's no way I'm going to stop fucking you. Think you can do it?"

"Yes," you gasped. "Oh, yes. God, yes. That's exactly what I want."

"That's the spirit," he smiled. "In that case, let's put one more."

Along came another scream from you. Your walls burned and stinged from the stretch but Dazai's fingers aren't faltering from driving in and out of you.

"And another one."

A third finger was carelessly shoved and your eyes shot wide open. You grabbed on to Dazai's shirt, hoping to keep yourself steady from the merciless assault. Through your dazed mind, you can hear nothing but your own trembling moans and the squelching sounds from your own sex. One more push and your climax came unraveling like yarn on Dazai's hand. Your face was nuzzled on his chest as your body spasmed and shook uncontrollably. It ended as soon as it started and you were left weak, holding on to him for dear life. His chest quaked from a dark snicker.

"Look how wet you are," he said, holding up the three fingers that from your frenzy, you didn't even noticed he's pulled out. "My fingers are totally soaked, they almost pruned. Amazing."

"Let me grab a tissue for you," you offered but Dazai was quick to pin you back down.

"Don't you even think that I'm already done with you, my darling. The night is still young," he uttered with a honeyed voice. "And since I've been good, I think it's time you let me have a taste of you."

"Dazai, wait! I'm still sensitive down there!"

The thought of being stimulated after such an orgasm was arousing, but also terrifying. Dazai paid no heed, just smirking before wetting his lips.

Any of your further protests fell on deaf ears as Dazai continued to pull your panties off before spreading your legs apart. You gulped thickly as he once more locked eyes with you, placing his hold on your thighs and gently licked you up. You legs trembled and your head fell backwards, the warmth and softness of Dazai's tongue was already bringing you another piece of paradise.

"Your pussy tastes so sweet," he commented in between the busyness of his mouth.

Fireworks seemed to crackle and pop all at once in the back of your eyelids when Dazai's mouth enclosed on your clit and the fast sucking motion sent your mind floating on the milky way. He moaned against your flesh as you grab a fistful of his hair and your hips bucked up, inadvertently burying his face deeper into you. Dazai's tongue was reaching places nobody has ever done before and it was when that the tip of his tongue probed your entrance, that got you crying out his name like a hopeless prayer towards the heavens. He suckled and slurped on your sore flesh until your legs quivered and your head went numb. You let yourself absolutely lost on the explosion of sensations below you when Dazai all of a sudden stopped to hover above you. The next thing you know, you're tasting yourself on his lips.

"You look so good spread open like this just for me," he said. "Would you prefer coming on my tongue or on my cock this time?"

There was a skip on your racing heartbeat as you hear the offer you've been waiting for all night. Despite your trembling jaws, you mustered what's left of your coarse voice and answered: "Your cock. Please."

"I was hoping you'd say that." Dazai smirked as he reached down to fumble with his pants. "Your moans turned me on so much. I might just come right when I enter you."

A gleeful laugh was in contrast of his voice– dark and husky in desire. Dazai made his point as you feel his rock hard erection rubbing on you clit. You gasped and he groaned; both of your bodies tingling in anticipation.

"Just look at what you did to me." He kept grinding on you and you can practically feel the excited twitches of his cock. "At this rate, I don't think I can hold myself back anymore."

With one calculated push of his hips, the swollen head of his cock slipped inside you. A long drawn out moan vibrated on your vocal chords as Dazai pushed the rest of his length within you, fanning the flames of your desire to its fullest extent. Your muscles stretched and clenched as he fills you up. Breathless whispers of how good you're making him feel drifted around your floating thoughts. Time seemingly slowed down, pleasure taking over and nothing mattered but the throbbing of your arousal against his.

"I'll make sure that after I'm done, you'll crave for my cock and my cock only."

One rough thrust started the rally of his animalistic pace. Your nails digged deep into his bandaged arm like you're holding on at the edge of a cliff. Guttural moans timed with every forceful push of his hips; he's aiming to make a mess out of you.

"After tonight, you won't be able to cum with anyone else than me," said a raspy whisper on your ear as slender fingers pressed on your hips, keeping you in place despite the unkind slapping of his skin on yours.

"You'll think of me even if you're with another man," he continued. "Everytime you touch yourself, every fantasy, every wet dream– you'll always think of me. Because no other man got a cock that feels this good on your little pussy, am I right?"

Stuttering curses, you answered. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes."

It greatly amused him. How helpless yet so lovely you look right now, sobbing and crying just from the way he pounds you. So, he decided to give you more. He promised himself that he'll wreck you in the most pleasant way, and he will accomplish that mission.

His cock plunged deep within your canal, the tip kissing the opening of your cervix. There was a change in his pace, hips bucking tightly, reaching a bundle of nerves that made you see the entire universe in a flash. Everything is getting all too much for you to come up with anything creative to say other than his name, some pleas for mercy and broken curses. But with utter cruelty, Dazai's lips connected with your nipple once again, sucking sharply and letting it loll around his tongue. With an arched back and legs locked around his waist, you screamed out your pleasure. You're now somewhere in the ether, riding a cloud between your legs. You've never been this high before but your body's still asking for more.

"Can I cum in you?" He whispered. He can see how much you're out of it so he continued, leaning closer. "I want to see my cum spilling out of you and right now, I'm ready to dump it all inside of you. You'd like that, don't you?"

An absent-minded hum of approval was all Dazai needed to straighten himself up, sling your legs over his shoulders and use you as he desired. A rough thrust after another, until you're shaking, warm muscles convulsing against his cock, your mouth opened to a big-o, and you were gone. Only throaty groans left your chapped lips, as one bomb sets off another, making waves and pulses all over your sensitized body.

The scene made Dazai beyond ecstatic, pushing his own orgasm to its peak. The composure he worked hard to keep up slipped in an instant. Random pulses of his hips gave it away, and once his semen began spurting out of his cock, he bit down on a soft spot on your calf, masking his low growls.

Dazai bottomed out on you, every stream of his warm cum collected inside your walls. You felt how it streamed down and filled you, a memory that you might save for any lonely nights in the future. You savored the moment of watching Dazai ascended and descended from his high, kissing his bite mark and smiling at you.

His erection was still mighty and solid inside of you despite the obvious exhaustion of the man who wields it. A weight pressed down on your body as he lay on top of you, heaving and panting just as hard.

With the promise of another round after a few moments, you closed your eyes and hoped that you'll wake up with his lips intertwining with yours.

[oingo233]

By The Lake*Part Six

Summary:  A family friend offers you a place to stay to get away from an abusive past.  Her home is a place that you are familiar with, an old town with a large lake you spent many days in. You went there years ago for one full summer, where you became close friends with a very young Daryl Dixon.  You two were inseparable until you had to leave.  But now you’re back, escaping from a past much like his.  You will need to weave your way through the town’s problematic people, your own problems, and above all the confusing Dixon.  Will you two find your way back to each other again?  Or will he push you further away?  And above all, will your past cease to haunt you?

MasterList

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon X Reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and violence(potential triggers), cussing, more mature themes(not smut or anything tho), slow burn romance, described wounds and injuries

Authors note:  I don’t own the character Daryl Dixon, he belongs to the creators of The Walking Dead.  This fic talks about abuse, and the terrible reality involved to spread awareness about the matter, not to romanticize it.                              

Word Count: 4.4k

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I woke up with Daryl sprawled out next to me, his back looks stiff and painful, but his hand was still holding on tightly to mine.  His hair shadowed his face, and his legs were spread wide apart, one dangling over mine.  If it weren’t for all the cuts, and bruises that littered his body, he would look like a normal teenager.  One that chases girls, and all the highs of life.  Sometimes, I forget that he is a teenage boy at all, he seems to always carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.  I go over each of his wounds, to check for infection or any changes.  All seems to be healing well so far.

I planned on letting him sleep for as long as he could, but Cherry had other plans.

“(Y/N)?”  She knocked at the door and I saw the door handle jiggle.  She was trying to get in.  But she would see Daryl!  “How’s your hand?”  I hear her ask.  “If you’re even awake...”  She mumbles to herself.  More knocking follows.  My heart is caught in my throat.  My hand is fine, and that is the problem.  

The bed shifts next to me, and I notice Daryl now wide awake.  He lets go of my hand with a slight blush, and runs his now free hand through his hair, wincing from the movement.  Cherry knocks again and he stops moving, we stare at each other with wide eyes.  Cherry’s knocking gets louder and she tries the door again, yelling my name.  Daryl and I remain frozen till he lightly hits my leg with his.  Letting me know I should do something.  He was glancing around at all the windows and I rolled my eyes.

“You are not jumping out a window Daryl.”  I whisper-yell, he narrows his eyes at me.  

“Then what the hell else are we gonna do?”  He whisper yells right back at me, his hand flying from his hair to the air.  

“Let me handle this.” I say, eliciting a look from him. 

“Oh great...”He mumbles.  I hide my laughter from his comment, along with my sassy remark, and head to the first aide kit.  

“Sorry Cherry, just woke up.  Let me-”  I yell through the door, I look down at myself, thinking of what to say.  But then I die inside, glancing back at Daryl only to catch him with his eyes trailing down my butt, my legs, and then his eyes roam back to mine and he blushes a deep red.  His hand rubbing the back of his neck as he avoids looking at me anymore.  “-get dressed.”  I finish my sentence, pulling my over sized shirt a little more down my butt and undies.  Faster than I ever have, I put on shorts, and wrapped my hand in gauze to further sell my lie.  The thought made me shrivel up with guilt.  “Coming.”  I say, breathlessly. 

I swing the door open, step out of it, and slam it shut behind me. Making sure Daryl won’t be seen.  He didn’t want anyone to know, and quite frankly, I didn’t want Cherry and Mark to know either.  I just kept him in my room overnight, and lied to them.  Plus, I want to ask Daryl something but that will have to wait.

She quirks her eyebrows up at me in question, and I shrug.  Ready to spit out another lie but she cuts me off, fingers in the air.

“I don’t want to know.” I nod along with her.  We walk back to the house together, making casual conversation.  She asked me about how I slept, and how my hand is doing.  She even offered to check it for me, which I quickly declined.  

We were all sitting down at the table when Rosie started to cry.  We all stopped everything, the loud clashing of metal on ceramic plates filled the room along with her sobs.  She ignored our questions and cooeing, as she lifted a shaky finger to me.  

“B-b-blood.” She blubbered out, words trapped in sobs.  I glance down at myself and see splotches of red staining all across my left side, in patches from my arm to leg, and finally to where Rosie was pointing, my face.  All on the side I was sleeping on, I suddenly remember the bloody sheets Daryl and I slept on; both of us too tired to care.  I cringe at my own stupidity, as Mark quietly excuses himself from the table with a slight gag.

“Oh my...here.”  Cherry gives me a wet cloth she dipped in her water glass, and swipes it across my face, catching the red stains.  I take it from her and rush to the bathroom.  I don’t emerge until Rosie stops crying so hard, and I’m fully clean.

“I’m okay sweetie.”  I coo, approaching her slowly and letting her see my clean skin.  She gives me a tight hug while Cherry rubs her back.

“How?”  She asks, eyebrows knotted.  I shrug, my cheeks heating as I think of a bloody, shirtless Daryl in my bed.  

“Hand, I guess.”  I say, not looking her in the eyes.  She nods stiffly.  I grab an extra plate of food, telling Cherry I was super hungry because of my cravings, and she excused my off behavior.  Truth was, I don’t think Daryl wanted rabbit from the woods as breakfast while he was this hurt.  I was almost out the door when she stopped me.

“Hey (Y/N)?”  I turn around and give her a warm smile, it drops quickly at the sullen expression she wears.  “Lets talk later.  Come early for dinner, yeah?”  I swallow thickly, and reassure her I’ll be early.  I rush out of there, thoughts racing with what she could possibly want to talk to be about.  My stomach lurched and I wanted to cry.  She knows...she knows about Daryl.  She’ll scare him off and he’ll never come to me for help.  His family will be shamed, and he’ll never be safe there again. She was going to yell at me for lying, and she was going to kick me out.  The plate feels heavy in my arms and I set it on the table on the cabin porch, not even remembering how I got there so quickly.

I miss the way the door opened slowly, to reveal Daryl as he hobbles over to me.  He set a rough hand softly on my shoulder, and rubbed it.  

“Ya goin’ to be okay? Ya look sick.” He whispers, turning me to face and hug him, he seems stiff with all this contact but I sink into anyway.  “I got ya, doll.  It’s okay.”  He held me until my breathing evened out, and I can now hear his steady but pained breathing, over my racing heart.  I don’t know what happened between us, or what will, but this felt right.  My question from earlier came rushing out before I could stop it.  

“Stay.” I murmur into his chest.  His arms drop from around me and twitch by his side.  A nervous habit of his.  He gnaws at the inside of his cheek, eyes wide on me.  

“What?” He asks. I swallow the lump in my throat and push the words out like vomit.  He could react terribly to this.

“I want you to stay here with me.  Cherry won’t and doesn’t have to know.  They rarely come by here anyway.”  He sits down by the food and stares in the direction of their white house.  Silently, he picks up the fork and starts to eat.  I sit opposite of him.  “You aren’t safe at your house.  Obviously...”  I motion to his wounded body.  “...we both know that to be a fact.  You’re safe here.  I’d never hurt you.”  The words echo in our mind, all too familiar.  “Stay.” and “would never hurt you.”  We’ve said those things to each other before.  I glance at the lake, the flat rock and remember the brush of his fingers on my face from last night.  the familiarity of it all overwhelmed me as my mind drifted to that one summer many years ago. 

****FlashBack****

It was raining, hard.  The enforced wood of the cabin made the raindrops sound like bullets.  It fogged my sleep, I dream of war.  Bullets firing in the air, explosions.  I was shot.  I woke up with a jump.  Feeling my torso for the ghost wound.  I exhale deeply, trying to calm myself.  My mother is sound asleep next to be on the bed.  Over the loud rage of the weather I heard another sound.  Something was running.  A sob broke through the air and I froze.  It was a person running.  

I was petrified, all I could do was listen to the crashing of footsteps in puddles, and loud cries.  Who was here?  After my nightmare, it was easy for me to imagine the worst.  A murder?  A stalker?  An intruder?  My mother snored softly beside me and a sense of calm washed over me.  I must protect us, I realized.  The sounds faded away and soon there was just rain.  But I knew the person still had to be around. Daryl taught me how to throw a good punch, “the old one, two” he called it.   He also taught me how to shoot the crossbow, but that was safe with him at the moment.  

On shaky legs I peeked out the window to see where this person was.  I looked across the whole area but couldn’t see anyone.  Until a shadow moved off in the distance.  It was hard to see in the night, let alone in the middle of the storm.  The figure was dark, but I saw as it sat at the edge of Daryl and I’s rock.  Head in their hands.  Crying.  Why would a murder cry?  They wouldn’t, I thought.  Maybe someone needs my help.

Without a second thought I grab my blanket to shield myself from the cold, and I unlock the door.  I rush out using the blanket over my head as I stepped over twigs and mud puddles to reach the side of the lake the person was on.  I reached the person in a couple of minutes.  My legs were shaking like the ground during a quake, and all I could think of was if this person would hurt me or not.  I push forward every ounce of courage I have as I shout over the rain a few feet from the person.

“Who are you!  What the hell you doing here!”  I yell.  The figure nearly jumps out of the air, I swear I heard a deep sob before it was muffled by a false chuckle.  “Ya always check in on strangers in the middle of the night alone?”  Silence engulfed us as I wondered why he sounded so familiar. 

“N-no.”  I stutter out. “That’s smart.”  Daryl's voice echoes into the night sarcastically. Relief nearly knocks me over, but my frown only deepens. I scowl, sitting down next to him. “Only when they cry like a baby.”  I joke, but it was badly taken.  He stiffened by my side, puffing his chest out. He dragged a hand roughly down his face, wiping his nose and giving me a deadly glare.  “I ain’t crying.  It’s raining smart ass”   I don’t push it further, I just nod my head and stare off at the water when I notice Daryl finding it harder to compose himself.  

“You never answered my question.”  I say softly, watching his eyes fill up with tears.  He scoffs.

“Don’t ‘ave to.  You ain’t the boss of me.”  He was grumpier than usual.  A thick silence took over the conversation.  The rain was letting up slightly, just a slight drizzle now.  The crickets were creating beautiful music, as the droplets created ripples on the lake.  It was straight out of a movie, peaceful and calm--a sob broke through the chorus of forest animals.  Daryl’s head was in his hand.  

“He beat me (Y/N).  He really beat me.” He cried, tugging at his hair.  Under the moonlight I could see bruises and little cuts sprinkled along his arms.  His cheek swollen large, he has a black eye.  I wiped a tear from my face and tried not to focus on the sense of dread and anxiety welling up in my chest.

I wrapped the soggy blanket around both of us, Daryl laid his head on my shoulder as he cried quietly.  I could tell he was struggling to calm down, my heart ached at the thought of how afraid he must be.  He was just a boy, and he would have to return to all this pain and fear in the morning.  And everyday after.  With my arm across his back for the blanket, I wrap my hand softly around his arm and rub up and down, humming a song softly in his ear. He choked on his breath a couple times before his breathing evened out and he was relaxed into my side.  Never have I seen him like this, so vulnerable and terrified.  My song ended and I look down.  Daryl was sound asleep.  I chuckle to myself.  Only he could sleep outside when it was pissing rain.  

Hair was falling onto his face.  I wipe it from his forehead and nearly cry out at the clot of blood it revealed.  There was a large gash coming from his hairline, the rain beat on it and I winced at the water ran red and fell down his face.  Panic swelled within me and I carefully removed him from me.  My mother would know what to do.  She could help.

I was nearly off the rock completely when I heard a sharp intake of air behind me, and Daryl yelling.

“Wait-”  He stood up and ran towards me.  We stared at each other for a long time.  My eyes kept following the blood down his face, but he was staring right into my eyes.  Pained breaths left him, but he looked frantic.  My eyes found his only to see a pool of blue fear.  Vulnerably.

“Stay.”  He whispered.  He reached for my arm gently, the blanket fell to the floor as he ran to me.  I stared at it, then the cabin, then back to his bleeding head.  I pull away carefully and he looked panicked.  “Please, stay.”  His voice shook.  After a few seconds I made up my mind.  I take his hand and walk him towards the woods, where the trees can offer us safety against the attacking weather.  He follows like a lost dog.  I leave him there for a second to get the blanket, then I throw it to the floor, making it just right.

I took his wet hand and held it in mine carefully as I sat us down on the mushy blanket,  better than the hard rock we were used to.  I was frustrated to say the least.  I was mad at his dad, who beat Daryl and did this to him.  Made him run alone, in the rain and dark, to the only safe place he knows. I was angry that I couldn't help him.  I was angry he wouldn't let me, and I was angry that I felt so damn emotional right now.  But my feelings must have shown because when I reached to touch his swollen cheek he flinched backwards, eyes shut.

I quickly retracted and held my hand to my chest.  “Oh Daryl...I’d never hurt you.”  Everything was frozen for a few breathless seconds.  His face scrunches up with agony and then he falls apart.  Laying his head on my chest he sobs.  Through his cries he tells me how scared he is.  But he didn’t have to tell me, he was trembling under my hands.  

“I’m here Daryl.  I’m not leaving.”  I repeat myself until he calms down.  My eyes burn with tears as I feel the lumps and welts on his skin, I keep my eyes on the water and try to think of when things will get better.  

We woke up to birds chirping away, not the sound of rain.  The sun peeked through the clouds and gave everything a blue shade to it, it must have been around 5 in the morning.  I was soaked through to the bone,and my mind took a moment to collect all the memories from last night.  My eyes pop open, searching for Daryl.  I didn’t have to look long.

Daryl was gazing at me with a soft smile on his face.  When our eyes met he dropped his and blushed a heavy red.  

“m’ sorry.”  He mumbled under his breath.  I grab his hand.

“It’s alright.  I don’t mind.”  I look around us, taking in how drastically the weather has changed, it pulls a chuckle from my lips.  The sound draws Daryl’s eyes back up to me, he chuckles too, although neither of us are sure why.  I sit up all the way and my hair tumbles into my eye.  

“Ouch.”  I gasp, trying to get it out of my eyes.  Embarrassment crawling up my neck at the thought of how bad I looked with my face scrunched up and my hands slapping at my face.  Daryl only smiled warmly, reaching a hand out he lightly replaced my own with his.  Within seconds my eyes felt better as his hand grazed my cheek, pulling the strand of hair behind my ear.  It was so simple, yet the very air around us shifted.  Emotions from last night, and a new sense of closeness engulfed us.  His hand cupping my cheek, his thumb tracing across my cheek bone, to my ear, and finally it pulls my lip out from beneath my teeth.  Every touch as soft as a feather.

His eyes were staring into mine, a sparkling blue I’ve never seen on him before.  It was quick, but noticeable when I glanced down at his pink lips.  I often dreamed about the way they could feel.  Were they soft?  Would they fit with mine?  He smiled, looking down at my lips and suddenly he was leaning in.  Everything was fading away, and as if on instinct our eyes fluttered shut.  Our lashes tickling one another.  

His lips were soft.  And I swear to god nothing would ever fit as perfectly as our lips together.  We moved in sync, our lips and emotions dancing with one another as we gave into our feelings.  Our bond.  My lips nearly kissed his teeth as his face spread out into the biggest smile I have ever seen.  He gave me no time to stare at his beauty before he dove down for another kiss.  Maybe we were too young.  Maybe this was a bad idea.  But I never felt those doubts with him before, and certainly not when he was kissing me like this.  Daryl was it for me, that much I was sure of.  If the eruptions of giddiness and calm were anything to go by, then it was that.

“You better take those lips off of her boy!”  The sound was shocking in the silence of the early morning, and the peace of our sweet moment.  We jumped back from one another to see Mr.Hendersons face bright red with rage. He was standing out on his porch in plain, navy pajamas.  A steaming cup of what I assume to be coffee in his hand as he stares at the two of us in shock and anger.  Without breaking eye contact his head shifts slightly to the side and he is yelling again.  “Sharron!  That Dixon boy is all over (Y/N)!  He’s poisoning our sweet girl!”  

Daryl was stiff at my side, I glance at him only to notice the familiar marks of shame on his expression, it was one he wore often.  But this time he wouldn’t meet my eyes.  I went to tell the Hendersons off when a soft call of my name came from the direction of Big Green.

“(Y/N)?  Honey!”  It was mother.  I could make out her figure, pulling her hands through a dress robe.  I was mortified to say the least.  My mother made me swear off of boys till I was 16.  Now she caught me kissing one with angry neighbors in the early morning, both of us soaking wet from the rain.  I stood up abruptly on shaky legs.

“Mom!”  I called, voice shaking and eyes watering as she put two and two together eyeing me up and down.  Before I could speak Mrs.Henderson came rushing out, hair in rollers.

“What!  (Y/N) did he force you!  Come here darling, I have a bath running.”  I take a step back from their direction, despite them being far away.  Both Daryl and I were speechless.  I knew my mom liked Daryl but what would she think now.  I shook me head fervently.

“N-no!  We wer-”

“Come back here (Y/N)!  We need to pack for tomorrow.  Thank you for your concern Sharron, but Daryl would never do such a thing.”  Mom said, I was beyond relieved.  

“You approve of this!  They’re too young!”  Mr.Henderson roared.  I was sure Cherry was going to hear and that’s the last thing I need.  

“No.” Mother set her glare on me, and I just about shriveled up under the heat of it.  “I don’t.”  Her word was final, I rushed across the lake into Big Green.  My hands were shaking as I wiped at my tears, face hot against my palms, lips still burning. Guilt sat like hot stones in my gut as I realized I never once looked back at Daryl.  To let him know it was okay.  The last thing he saw, was me running away.  Ashamed.

****End of Flashback****

The memory slightly shocked me, although it was never something I forgot, I never did look back on it often. I found it to be too painful.  But now, right now, here with him under the exact same set of circumstances, I’ve decided not to make the same mistake.  His words from last night echoed in my mind.  I left him too.  I refuse to leave him now.

“We can stay here together.”  I say softly, resting my hand on his forearm, he all but licked the plate clean.  He stares deep into my eyes, searching for any hints of uncertainty, or a joke.  He clears his throat and stares at the lake.  Nodding, he visibly relaxes.

“We’ll need to clean those sheets.”  He says.  My heart soars and I laugh.  

“Of course, no one is sleeping on those.  Rosie freaked when she saw me this morning.”  I laugh even harder, he chuckles eyeing me up and down.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell ya.  You never did look good in the mornings anyway though.”  He jokes, I lightly push at his shoulder, giggling.

“You’re one to talk, droolface.”  He swipes at the dry drool on his chin, reaching over he rubs it on me.  I run away from him into the cabin.  He puts the plate in a little sink and sits down on a chair inside, watching me strip the sheets off the bed. 

“I can help ya.”  He states, already getting up.

“Don’t.  You’re hurt now, treasure it because once you’re well I’ll have ya doing everything.  I hate chores.”  He scoffs under his breath, leaning back.

“Oh, I remember.  Miss princess.”  We both laugh, recalling all the times I’d have him do some of my chores that summer.  Folding laundry, and other things.  I told him it would give us more time together if we finished it together, but I’d leave him to it halfway through.  He never once complained.  It was in those times we had our deepest conversations, this time is no different.

“When did it start?”  He ask out of the blue.  I pretended not to understand, but I did.  My stomach dropped, I was just waiting for him to bring it up.  

“What?”  He takes a deep breath, as if it hurt him as much as it hurt me to even talk about it.  

“When did Carter...start hurting you?”  I take a deep breath, and fold the bloody sheets putting them off to the corner.  I take my time, sitting on the bed, getting comfortable, and then facing him.  Although I didn’t meet his eyes.  But my mothers words echoed in my head “What happened ain’t you’re fault.  You’ve been nothing but strong and deserving of love.  Don’t carry this shame with ya sweetheart.”  I meet his soft blue eyes.

“A year or two after us being together, three if you count being friends.  How do I just cut someone loose after that long?”  I take a shaky breath, he doesn’t speak, he knows I like to have my time.  “Love, it’s blinding sometimes.  A bruise here and there became a normal occurrence.  But so did apologies, and dinner dates, and promises that seemed more sincere than the last.  Months would go by where we were perfect, happy...then one wrong move on my part, or one bad day and...”  I didn’t even notice him come to sit next to me.  He grabbed my hand and kissed it.  A simple kiss at that, it gave me comfort, but the rest of my story will come another day.  Daryl could see it in my eyes, he gives my hand a squeeze and starts to talk himself.

“Home ain’t good for me.  I know it ain’t the same, but I know in some ways...it is.  I came ‘ere last night cause I didn’t feel safe nowhere but uh...”  His face blushes red and he clears his throat.  “Ya only ever been kind with me.”  I knew what he meant, I squeeze his hand.

“You feel like my safe place too, Daryl.”  His ears now turn a bright red and he gives me a small smile.  Nodding his head he awkwardly drops my hand.  

“Let’s get these clean, huh?”  Daryl says, picking up the sheets and carrying them outside, holding the door for me with his foot.  Hours later the sheets were clean and neatly laid.  Daryl and I talked for a while, reconnecting.  It felt nice being on fresh sheets, and starting fresh with Daryl.  For a while, everything was good.  But the next week would change everything.  Cherry’s news would drop a bomb in the small town by the lake, one that would leave it’s mark forever.

TagList

@pansexualgrapes​

@fanfictionsilove​

[gamerwoo]

[Tales from the Pack] Mingyu: Renegades (Part Ten)

Characters: Mingyu x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, fluff, very slight angst if you squint, being pregnant ???? does that count as a warning lmao?????

Word count: 2,431

Summary: You’d always been accustomed to the werewolf lifestyle, seeing as your brother was one. You think nothing can surprise you anymore, especially after being imprinted on by one of his pack mates, but you should know by now to never underestimate fate.

a/n: I feel like I just skip around in time a lot in parts lately, but this definitely skips around a lot and I’m so sorry lmao

Previous | Next | Renegades Masterlist

Months went by slowly. Wonwoo still wasn’t as close with you as he used to be, and when you tried asking him about it, he said he just wasn’t sure about the whole baby thing yet. But he wasn’t ignoring you, so you couldn’t complain. You could just tell something was a little off about him.

The pack had never been around anybody who was pregnant before, so they were trying to get used to the new things they sensed from you. It was that reason that Joshua couldn’t tell what exactly was different about you when he first saw you again -- he didn’t know what a pregnant person would be like, so the new things he sensed were things he’d never been exposed to. But the pack was becoming much more protective of you as months went by.

However, nobody was as bad as Mingyu was. Even before his infection was fully healed, he was insisting on doing everything for you, no matter how small. You weren’t even showing yet, but he didn’t want you lifting a finger, which meant somebody else always had to do things for you because Mingyu couldn’t walk too much.

When you started showing, you didn’t even really notice all that much. You saw yourself everyday, and the change was gradual, so you didn’t realize. It wasn’t until you were sitting outside while you watched Joshua, Wonwoo, Minghao, and Junhui gardening that anybody mentioned it.

“_____!” Jun grinned as you stood up and stretched, your shirt raising up against the tiny bump that formed. “You’re getting a little bump!”

Of course, then everybody wanted to touch your stomach.

But the pack quickly realized something as your bump started to grow bigger day by day.

“Josh isn’t a real doctor,” Seokmin suddenly noted.

“Yes, and?” Josh asked. “I never claimed I was any kind of doctor, anyway.”

Seokmin looked at Josh, then at you, then your stomach, and then the rest of the pack that was in the kitchen at the time, “So...he doesn’t know how to deliver a baby or make sure its healthy.”

Nobody in the pack had ever been to a doctor -- at least, not since they ran away from their homes. They weren’t even sure if there were doctors out there who specialized in werewolves since werewolves could not live in society. If anybody found any of them out, they’d be executed. So it was dangerous to try looking for a doctor, anyway.

“It’s still a normal baby,” Josh shrugged. “Let’s just take her to a normal doctor.”

“No!” you protested.

“It’s fine, baby,” Mingyu reassured you, giving your hand a light squeeze. “I’ll go with you and--”

“I don’t want my baby delivered by somebody who would kill any of you if you were found out,” you stated. “I’m delivering it at home.”

Josh groaned as he rolled his eyes, “Of course you are.”

Of course, that request was stressful for Josh. He couldn’t properly check if you or the baby were okay, so he could only go off of his senses -- which actually worked wonders. He had sharp senses so he could tell if anything was off, but if they were, he wouldn’t know what to do. Just because he had the power to heal didn’t mean that he knew how to fix everything, and it didn’t mean he could heal everything. Like Seokmin had said, Josh wasn’t a real doctor.

As you got bigger, you started wearing clothes that weren’t yours. You could no longer fit into yours, and you started wearing whatever baggy clothing you could fit comfortably in. That often meant walking around without pants on, and just baggy shirts that the boys owned.

Mingyu also got much more protective over you the closer you got to the nine month mark. He had to control himself from growling at his brothers -- something he did often but was sort of getting better at -- and he had even snapped at them a handful of times when they tried to touch your stomach to feel the baby kick. Mingyu was basically at your side constantly.

That meant, however, that Wonwoo was not. He knew stress was bad for you and the baby, so he stayed away to avoid arguing with Mingyu. He did want to be with you, but he didn’t want to get into it, so he just stayed away most of the time. He of course checked on you and made sure you were doing alright, but he didn’t do anything to try to interfere.

Truthfully, it made you feel bad. You felt like Wonwoo was afraid that one wrong move would push you away again. You felt like he was afraid you’d leave again, so he avoided you to avoid trouble. But you missed how you and him used to be before he found out about you and Mingyu. But you weren’t sure if you could ever go back to that. Between Wonwoo avoiding you, and you worrying about the baby growing inside you, you felt like you didn’t even have the time to talk things out with Wonwoo.

But you were nothing if not determined, which was something everybody learned when you went missing for two months and even refused to return home when you were sick.

You told Mingyu he should go out in the back garden to help. He needed the fresh air and sunlight, and you told him that Jooyeon could help you with anything you might need. So with a pout on his face, he trudged out behind Jeonghan to help with some gardening.

“Do you mind helping me up to Wonwoo’s room?” you asked Seungcheol’s mate.

She eyed you from her own seat, “You’re not going to put me in the middle of some sibling rivalry, are you?”

“No,” you chuckled, “I just want to talk with him.”

Jooyeon sighed but got up and helped you to your feet. Your stomach was much bigger than it used to be -- you only had a few more weeks to go before your due date -- so you needed the hand. Jooyeon walked you to the stairs and up to your brother’s room, making sure to take her time because she didn’t want to make you too tired. She already knew to be extra careful with you -- otherwise Mingyu would have a fit.

Once you were outside Wonwoo’s door, you lifted your hand to knock. However, before you could, you heard him softly call, “Come in.”

You opened the door and saw him sitting on his bed, reading a book. He lifted his head and looked between you and Jooyeon, gesturing to his bed, “You can sit her here.”

“How did you--”

“I could hear you downstairs,” he admitted with a chuckle.

“What, so you didn’t just come down to her?” Jooyeon huffed.

She grumbled as she brought you to sit by your brother before leaving the room. She did toss a glare his way and stuck her tongue out at him before closing the door, though.

“Are you doing alright?” Wonwoo asked, setting down his book and shifting to sit closer to you.

“I’m fine, I just wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

You stared at your lap, gaining the courage to look Wonwoo in the eyes and ask what you wanted to. You didn’t want him to take it the wrong way or anything, but you had to know if something was up with him.

You turned your head to look at him, quietly asking, “Are you still upset with me?”

“No,” he chuckled, “why would I be?”

“Then why aren’t things the same...?” your voice was even quieter asking that question.

Wonwoo sighed as he scratched his head, trying to think of a good way to word his response. He put an arm around you and leaned his head against yours.

“Well... _____, if I’m honest, it’s a mix of a few things. I think that now that I know you’re going to spend your life with Mingyu, things can never completely be the same. I’m always going to be nervous for you because you’re going to be spending your entire life with a werewolf, and that’s dangerous. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. But I know I have to accept that you’re an adult and can make her own decisions, so I’m trying to give you space to do that.

“However, the main reason I’ve been distant lately is because your pregnant and Mingyu’s becoming more protective. I don’t want to set him off because I already know it would make me angry, too. I think it’s best I let you just be with Mingyu right now.”

You were at least happy to hear that Wonwoo was starting to accept you and Mingyu being together, as well as realizing you could make your own decisions. Just because you were his baby sister didn’t mean you were truly a baby. 

But you couldn’t help but linger on the last bit of his explanation. He was distancing himself because of Mingyu. You wanted both of them around, not just one. If the rest of the pack could still be around you without Mingyu having a problem -- well, too much of a problem -- why couldn’t your brother?

Before you could say anything, you heard Mingyu call from downstairs, “_____?”

“We can talk more later,” Wonwoo told you with a small smile as he helped you stand and brought you to the door. “Mingyu will come looking for you and he’ll want you with him for a while.”

“But--”

“It’s okay,” he reassured you, though you weren’t sure if you believed his smile that didn’t really reach his eyes.

But he had already closed his bedroom door, with you on the outside.

-

You never did talk about it later. The longest conversation you had with Wonwoo was him asking how you were feeling, and that was really it. Sure, you saw him at dinner and could talk then, but you didn’t want to bring up your worries to the whole pack.

It wasn’t like they didn’t notice, though. Anybody could tell things weren’t the same between the two of you, but none of them wanted to bring it up. It wasn’t their place even if they were considered your family, too. They weren’t blood like you and Wonwoo were. That was completely different.

Your hormones being all over the place didn’t help you in this situation, either. You were just always sad over the smallest things, but whenever somebody asked why you were crying, you didn’t know what to say. At that time, it felt silly to say you were crying over your brother who was just upstairs, so you just shook your head and kept crying -- but then Minghao would make you rice with cheese and pickles in it because that’s what you’d been craving, and you’d stuff your face and feel fine again.

But the closer it got to your due date, the more you tried to focus on the baby rather than anything else. It seemed every other sentence out of somebody’s mouth was “don’t stress”, so you were trying to do just that. 

One of the things that seemed to always make you happy was discussing baby names, which Mingyu always loved doing. The two of you had yet to settle on a name, but you’d been tossing a handful back and forth. Neither of you were sure of the gender yet -- Mingyu wasn’t sure if he could sense it, but even if he could, he wouldn’t know because he’d never done that before and wouldn’t know the difference -- so you had a few options for both genders.

“It’s getting closer,” Mingyu mused one night as the two of you were laying down to go to sleep. “We should decide on names so we’re not having to call it ‘baby’ for the first month.”

You giggled as you lightly whacked your mate’s shoulder, “It wouldn’t be for a month!”

“Would so! We’re both indecisive,” he laughed. “I always agree with what you think, but you can’t decide. Together, we’re hopeless.”

“Okay, then we’ll decide tonight,” you nodded. “Do you have a favorite?”

“I like Changmin for a boy,” Mingyu nodded.

“Only because ‘min’ is in it.”

“Exactly, and I’m Min-Gyu!” he giggled. “What, are we going to name him after Seungkwan or something?”

You shrugged, “I was actually thinking Chan.”

Mingyu groaned playfully as he lightly poked your arm, “Hey, that’s not funny!”

“Sorry!” you giggled, taking his hand he poked you with and holding it in yours. “Okay, what about for a girl?”

“I thought the idea of naming her after Lilly was sweet, but I’m not sure how Joshua would take it... What about you? I picked my favorite for a boy, so what’s yours for a girl?”

“Jiwoo,” you answered instantly.

“Jiwoo?” he repeated quizzically. “That wasn’t an option, was it?”

“I was thinking about it for the last few days. I thought...maybe we should name it after Wonwoo since he’s the only blood family I have now. He means a lot to me and I love him, so I want to show that.”

You felt Mingyu’s warm lips press to your forehead in a lingering kiss, but his lips stayed there as he mumbled, “I love that name.”

-

It didn’t take long for you and Mingyu to fall asleep. You were almost always tired even though you never really did much, and Mingyu had a great talent of being able to sleep at any time and anywhere -- actually most of the pack seemed good at that. You slept soundly on your side in his arms, your mate somehow always acutely aware of you in his sleep. If he knew you had landed on your back and didn’t roll over, he would gently push you onto your side but not even know he had done it. 

However, his senses didn’t wake him up before you did. You were gripping onto his shoulder and shaking it roughly as you groaned out his name. He sat up, his eyes blinking slowly as he tried to make sure he wasn’t just dreaming.

“_____?” he mumbled tiredly.

“Mingyu,” you panted, “you-- ...Y-you need to go get Joshua.”

“Why?” he groaned, though the answer just about slapped him in the face almost immediately after the question left his lips.

“It’s happening,” you groaned as another sharp pain started to hit. “The baby’s coming.”

[thinkyoureholy]

Vox Populi [5]

[kind of a chill/domestic chapter, nothing too out there happens but some conflict resolution. if all my stories resolved shit as fast as these two then the characters wouldn’t have to suffer so much lolololol]

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Pairing : Park Seonghwa / [fem] Reader

Genre : Angst, Violence, Language, Fluff, Smut, Post Apocalypse/Dystopia! AU

Words : 4.3k

Previous Part. - Next Part.

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

-Seonghwa’s  P. O. V. -

We had all worked straight into the night, various members of our guard helping out as assistants to the small group of nurses and doctors we had. I was helping wherever I could or wherever I was needed. I had wanted to talk through everything with Y/N, from what happened back home to what happened when I arrived here but I haven’t really seen her around. We had a bit of a moment when I first saw her but I blew it by agreeing to her mother’s words. That’s a flaw of hers I wasn’t fond of. When I agreed with something she didn’t like she would get prissy about it but as much as that trait irritated me it made me love her even more. I loved her for all of her imperfections, those imperfections, though annoying at times, are what made me love her so much. I loved her fiery spirit. I loved how strong-willed she was. I loved how she stands up for what she believes in. I love how she sticks to her principles. I love her, everything about her, from her dazzling smile to the adorable pout she gives me when I tease her.

“My God, the look you have on your face right now is enough for me to gag.”

I snapped out of my stupor at the sound of his voice, my eyes taking in the grimace he wore, “Jealous?” I asked with a smirk playing at my lips.

He scoffed, taking a seat next to me and handing me a cup full of water, “As if. Love disgusts me and you just radiate the emotion whenever you have that look on your face. Tell me, is there ever a time when you’re not thinking about my captain?”

“Never.” I answered without hesitation, my smirk turning into a full blown grin.

He audibly gagged at the sight of my smile, covering his mouth dramatically, “Disgusting.”

I chuckled at his actions, nudging him softly with my shoulder, “You can’t say love is disgusting if you yourself are in fact, in love. And with someone just as infuriating might I add.”

He shuddered playfully but failed to hide the smile that had the ends of his lips curling upwards, “Ugh, don’t even mention it. I can’t believe it either. And with Fernandez too! I’m surprised I haven’t gone insane yet.” 

“Judging by your behavior I’d have to say you’re already pretty insane.” I said in a soft voice, knowing how he felt.

Yunho and Lucia had known each other roughly for the same amount of time Y/N and I had known each other but they got together later than we did. Those two would butt heads constantly. They were like fire and ice, Yunho’s personality burned so hot it was overwhelming at times and Lucia was so cold at times I felt like I needed to atone for every sin I’ve ever committed just from looking into her eyes.

“She keeps me on my toes, I can tell you that.” He chuckled softly, the grin he was trying to hide earlier on full display now, “Sucks that she outranks me though, uses that to shut me up sometimes. Anyway! Enough about me. You had this lovestruck look on your face earlier but I could also see the conflicting emotions in your eyes. What’s wrong?”

I hesitated, looking down at the water that sat at the bottom of my cup, “Y/N and I have gotten into a few arguments over the last few days.”

He paused for a moment, giving me a blank faced stare before speaking, “So you disagreed with her on something and she’s throwing a tantrum is what you’re telling me?”

I coughed out a chuckle at his tone of voice but shook my head, “No...well not exactly…” I trailed off as I thought back to the conversation we had just before she left Liszto to come here, “This new thing is about me agreeing with her mom and scolding her but I think what’s really bothering her is the things I said to her back home. I may have brought up Nikolai’s feelings for her and how uncomfortable it made me having  the two of them come out here, just the two of them.”

Yunho heaved out a heavy sigh, combing his hair back and out of his face as what I said to him set in, “I get where you’re coming from.” He paused, furrowing his brow, “But I don’t see why you’re so worried. It's no secret to the rest of us that the Major has feelings for the Captain, we all see the way Nikolai looks at her, we actually tease him about it. But I can tell you with certainty that his love is unrequited. The only look I see in Y/N’s eyes when she looks at him is a look of fondness, the same type of look you’d see a sibling give to an older one they adored.”

I bowed my head when he finished. I know I had stepped over the line but I couldn’t help but worry. Nikolai has shown me time and time again that he’s capable of taking her away from me. He goes out of his way to make me jealous and it infuriates me that he succeeds every time but I can’t just ignore how in love he is with her. Y/N has told me time and time again that he would never try anything while she and I were in a relationship but I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. 

“Just get out of your head for a bit, genius engineer,” Yunho said with a soft smile, patting my shoulder, “Don’t doubt her love and loyalty to you. She loves you and only you. Hate that bastard Volkov all you want, shit, I’d pay you to ruin that pretty little face of his. That asshole needs someone to hand his ass back to him on a silver platter.”

I didn’t bother giving him a response, thinking everything he said over in my head. My head felt like it was about ready to explode the longer I thought about it. I could deal with numbers, complicated equations and strategize all while keeping my eyes closed but the moment it came to Y/N my head felt emptier than it's ever been. With a sigh I finished off the last bit of my water and handed the cup back to Yunho, adjusting the strap of the rifle that hung from my shoulder.

“I’m gonna head out, patrol around the perimeter or guard the entrance, anything really.” I told him, my mind a jumbled mess as I pulled a pair of finger-less gloves out of my pocket and slipped them on, “I’m in serious need of some fresh air,” Yunho didn’t try and stop me, only offering me a nod of his head as he lifted his index and middle finger up to his head and gave me a mock salute. 

I patted myself down to check for extra magazines as I walked. I had one already in my rifle and felt an extra one in my left pocket. I wasn’t really expecting to actually use my rifle but I’d rather be safe than sorry, I didn’t know what kind of mutated animals were running around out here. As I got to the gates I was able to make out a familiar head of red hair, groaning at the sight. I must’ve groaned pretty loudly or he just had superb hearing. Nikolai turned around, along with Imlay who was standing next to him, Nikolai meeting my gaze. I gave him a blank look before diverting my eyes as I walked right past them.

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

I instinctively set my jaw at the sound of his voice, clutching onto the strap of my rifle tightly. I stopped in my tracks but didn’t bother turning around to look at him, knowing the look on his face would just piss me off, “On patrol.”

“For what? There aren’t any hostiles around so there’s no need to check the perimeter.” He said, his voice sounding closer than before.

Inhaled sharply before turning around to finally look at him, seeing that he had taken several steps towards me, “Look, I just need to clear my head and the only way I can do that is if I take a little walk alright?”

“Maybe you’d clear your head faster if you just talked things out with Y/N instead of running away like you always do.” He spat out, the fire in his eyes igniting my own.

“I’m getting real tired of your nose in shit it doesn’t belong, Nikolai. The only reason I’ve tolerated you this long is because of Y/N but you’re starting to push your fucking luck with me.” I all but growled out as I marched over to him.

Just as I was about to get in his face Imlay stepped out in between us. He had a nervous smile on his lips as he put his hands out in front of us, stopping us from getting any closer, “Hey...c’mon, we don’t need any of this. We have our hands full enough as it is treating the infected, we don’t need to be pulling the two of you off each other every time one of you looks at the other the wrong way,” He paused to make sure neither of us was going to start throwing punches before he addressed Nikolai, “Nik...just let him go. He’s not bothering anyone and the only one that would be in danger out there would be him and I’m sure he knows that. He won’t be causing any harm by patrolling.”

I looked past him to glare at Nikolai, a glare of his own on his face, “Continue to push my buttons and just watch what happens, Nikolai. There’s only so many times I’ll let your bullshit slide,” I warned, looking him up and down with distaste before muttering under my breath but made sure I spoke loud enough for him to hear me but I doubt he’d understand, “개새끼.”

I gave him one last look before turning on my heel and walked away. Not only was I trying to figure out how best to apologize to Y/N and work things out with her that asshole just had to piss me off.

-Y/N’s P.O.V-

I stretched my arms up high into the night sky, a heavy sigh leaving my lips as I stood to my full height. I gave the man one last look before leaving his tent. I made my way over to where our medical team had set up, my eyes darting around as I searched for a certain someone. Now should be as good a time as any to talk things out with Seonghwa. I didn’t want this to go on for any longer, I hated fighting with him. I closed my eyes a moment as I pulled off my gloves, thinking of what to say to him. I was still in deep thought when I made it inside the medical tent, heading straight for the bin of clean water that was at the far back of the tent. I turned the handle and watched the water flow for a second before I filled up a bowl with the water. 

“Sup Cap.” 

I looked up at the sound of his voice, a frown on my face at his choice of words, “Cap?” I asked, prompting him with a raised brow to elaborate on the nickname he’s given me, his superior might I add but he didn’t seem to notice the look I was giving him. Yunho simply grinned at him, the look on his face enough for me to let this slide, for now at least. I was never really one to enforce rules like addressing each other by our proper titles but something about the way he said it didn’t sit well with me. It could’ve been the smug and teasing look in his eyes or just because I wasn’t really in the mood for jokes, either way I let it go at the sight of his smile.

“Is there something I can do for you?” I asked when he didn’t say anything after his greeting.

His grin grew wider as he opened his mouth to speak but before he could get a word out a female voice cut him off, “What are you doing bothering the Captain?”

My gaze went to Lucia as she walked over to us, the teasing look in Yunho’s eyes turned into mischief, “I’m not bothering her.”

“Uh-huh. That look on your face is enough to tell me you’re up to no good...as usual.” She retorted, giving him a look before turning to face me and saluting me properly.

I raised a hand to indicate she didn’t need to be too formal. She stood at ease in front of me, keeping an eye on Yunho the whole time. I took this time to ask her a few questions.

“How are things with the others? Going smoothly I hope.”

She nodded, giving me an overview of today’s events. Beside Nikki and I, Fernandez was the highest ranking officer among the members of the guard that arrived. She was one of three Lieutenants we had, Abebe and Nobuhiko having stayed behind with my father and a few of the other higher ranking officers. I had noticed almost immediately that the ones that had come were mostly new recruits, privates of all ranks were most of the faces I had seen. Lucia gave me a full report of what the other members of the guard had been doing since they arrived. As she spoke I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander, looking for a familiar head of black hair.

“If you’re looking for Seonghwa he went out for a little walk awhile ago.” Yunho said, interrupting Lucia’s report.

She was about to scold him for interrupting her but before she could I spoke, “Did he say where he was going?”

“I think he said he was going to stand watch at the gate or patrol the perimeter.” He said with a knowing smile on his face.

I nodded at his words, ignoring the look he was giving me before addressing Lucia, “We’ll continue this later. Lucia, do me a favor and assign the others to check in on the sick every few hours. Give them rotating shifts so they can do it through the night and into morning,” I told her all this as I shook the water from my hands and left to try and catch up with Seonghwa. 

The moment I left the tent I broke out into a jog, impatient to see Seonghwa. I had been avoiding him all day because I was stupid and liked to hold grudges for no reason. And now that I’ve gone hours without seeing him I was missing his face and the smile he would give me every time he looked at me. Just thinking about him had me breaking out into a full on run, seeing Nikki on watch with Imlay. I came to a stop in front of the two, asking if they’ve seen Seonghwa.

“Yeah he-”

“If you’re just going to come back with that same look on your face you’ve had for the past few days then I suggest you turn back around.” Nikki said in a harsh tone.

I furrowed my brows in confusion, wondering where this sudden outburst came from but before I could question him Imlay spoke up, “Um, he went that way Captain. He looked like he was going through something, maybe he’ll cheer up once he sees you.”

My eyes darting from Imlay to Nikki then back to Imlay, nodding at his words with a grateful smile on my lips, “Thanks, Scott,” I then turned to Nikki, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you but let’s talk later alright?”

“You really have no idea what this is about?” He asked, stopping me in my tracks.

Again, my face showed confusion as he took a step towards me. What’s gotten into him? I was about to ask but just as I opened my mouth the sound of a rifle firing off in the distance cut through the quiet night. My face paled at the sound, pivoting on my foot as I looked out in the direction the shots came from. I searched the woods, my heart beating rapidly in my ears as I thought of who could’ve fired off those shots. 

Please...please let me be wrong.

I turned back to Nikki and Imlay in a hurry, “Imlay give me your gun,” I rushed out but didn’t really give him a chance to hand it over as I basically took the rifle from his hands. Just as I was about to take off running I was cemented to my spot as I heard more gunfire, my breathing picking up speed as I thought of all the possibilities. Nikki began to speak but none of his words processed in my head, my legs finally moving as I bolted towards where I hoped to find Seonghwa. 

“Seonghwa!?” I shouted, unable to stop myself from calling out his name so desperately.

I knew there was a chance, albeit a small chance, of him running into someone that was hostile towards the people of this small village or to him himself as the son of the leader of our city. I picked up the pace at the thought of something bad happening to him. Just as I was drowning in these thoughts I was able to make out a figure not too far away. I squinted through the night, unable to make any of their features out. The height matched Seonghwa but that wasn’t much of a confirmation as I called out, praying it was him.

“Seonghwa? Is that you?” I asked as I came to a stop, inching towards them slowly. 

I held onto my rifle tightly, ready to use it if it turned out not to be him. But I had no need to be so wary, my grip on my rifle disappeared completely when I heard his voice.

“Y/N? What are you doing out here?” He asked, coming forward so I could see him better.

I let out a sigh of relief, letting my rifle fall to the floor and make quick work to close the distance between us. I could see the confusion on his face mixed with a hint of concern but before he was able to voice any of his worries I threw my arms around his shoulders, bringing him into a tight embrace. I felt him go stiff in my hold for a second but he relaxed almost immediately, his arms instinctively wrapping around my waist. I clung onto him tightly, one of my hands clutching the fabric of his shirt tightly while the other made its way to the back of his head, my fingers weaving through his soft hair. 

“Y/N…what’s wrong? You’re shaking…” Seonghwa trailed off as he tried to pull away from the hug, undoubtedly wanting to get a look at my face but I held onto him tighter, not letting go.

“She freaked out because of the gunfire...probably thought up some elaborate idea of you being ambushed which is absurd by the way. Besides Liszto and this village the next city is about a hundred miles out.” Nikki explained, sounding exasperated. A moment of silence passed through us until he spoke up again, “Though I myself probably wouldn’t have minded you being abducted…”

“Nikolai.” I all but growled out when he said that, my hold on Seonghwa loosened but as I was about to let go Seonghwa suddenly held me tighter.

“Did you already forget what I just told you, Volkov?” Seonghwa asked, a threatening tone in his voice.

I heard Nikki scoff from behind me, knowing he was rolling his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll believe you when you actually go through with your threats, Park. Now what were you shooting at?”

I finally pulled away from the hug, curious to know why he fired his rifle when there didn’t seem to be anything dangerous around. I took a small step to the side, intertwining my fingers with his and basically clung onto his arm. He looked over at me with a raised brow questioningly but the look in his eyes was a fond one as he gave my hand a squeeze, “There was a bear.”

“A bear? Really?” Nikki asked skeptically, not believing a word.

“See for yourself.” Seonghwa said with a sigh and gestured to a big brown blob to his right.

Nikki and I both looked in surprise to find that he had indeed shot a bear, one that was twice the size of a regular bear book would describe. Nikki let out a loud whistle, seemingly impressed that Seonghwa had taken down an animal of that size. He was just about to comment when we heard a chorus of boots stomping on the hard ground followed by a series of commands, the voice belonging to Lucia. When she and the others came into view they were confused to see the three of us were just standing there. 

“Imlay told us there was an emergency.”

Nikki shook his head, “False alarm. Come over here and help me with this, we can use the fur or meat of this animal for...something…” Nikki trailed off, unsure as he started thinking of what to do but still led the others to the animal.

I took the opportunity to pull Seonghwa aside, looking him over for any injuries. I was so relieved to see that he was still here, standing on his own two feet. I didn’t think to check if that animal did something to him. I could feel his eyes on me as I turned his hands and arms, looking for scratches or things of the sort. I then moved up to inspect his face properly. I cupped his face gently in my hands, moving his head from side to side as I looked over his neck and face. As I was doing so he placed his hand over mine, drawing my eyes to his. He gave me a smile so soft I felt my tense shoulder immediately relax, his eyes crinkling ever so slightly as he gazed at me.

“I’m fine, Y/N. That thing didn’t get close enough to touch me, stop worrying about me alright?” He said in a tender voice, reaching over to smooth my brow, trying to erase the frown from my face, “Besides, I thought you were angry with me.”

“Just because I’m upset with you doesn’t mean I want anything bad to happen to you.” I told him pointedly, slightly offended that he could even think that badly of me, “We may have been arguing but no matter how angry and upset I am with you I would never wish any harm to come to you.”

He sighed out a soft laugh, seemingly overwhelmed by God knows who as he cupped the sides of my face and leaned forward, planting a big and lingering kiss on my forehead, “Ugh, I love you so much,” He groaned out as he pulled away, a blush rising to my cheeks at the words. I’m so used to him saying this to me but there are times when he says it in a different manner than usual and that’s when I’m caught off guard the most. At moments like this all I could do was blush. He chuckled at the sight of my blush, suddenly pulling me into his embrace, letting me bury my face in the crook of his neck. I heard the members of the guard let out wolf whistles as they passed by with the giant sized bear. I ignored them, knowing they wouldn’t miss the opportunity to tease me over this for the next few days.

“I’m sorry about what I said the other day. I should trust that you’ll push Nikolai away if he tries something.” He sighed as he pulled away from the hug, keeping his hands on my shoulders. I went to reiterate that Nikki would never try anything but he beat me to it, “I know you said he would never do such a thing but I can’t help but worry over it. No matter how much you reassure me I’m going to keep worrying so just let me alright?”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t keep the smile off of my face, “Fine. And I’m sorry about this morning. I was a little out of line,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly as I avoided eye contact.

He snickered teasingly, the back of his fingers brushing against my cheek tenderly, “I know you didn’t want to hear me backing up your mother like that but you needed to hear it. I know how much you look up to your father and how much you love him. If something happens to your father after he fails to live up to your expectations then I know you’d run yourself straight into the ground with guilt and I don’t want you to go through that. ”

I kept my eyes focused on something other than him, knowing everything he was saying was the truth but it doesn’t mean I always want to hear it. I did have a bad habit of relying too heavily on my father and I know that but I can’t help it. My mother had always been too busy with work or with Adonis, besides Nikki my father was all I really had at times.

“I’ll...ease up…” I mumbled in regards to my father.

Seonghwa beamed at me, his smile blinding even in the moonlight, “Good. Now that we’ve resolved things let's head back and get some sleep. We’re going to need our rest if we want to be of any help tomorrow,” He pulled me towards him, having me stand in front of him as he hugged my waist from behind and began to walk back to camp like that. 

~

“개새끼” - son of a bitch

[justjessame]

The Deal Chapter 69

I was still at Mom’s, playing with RJ and waiting for a moment to take Judith off on her own to give her a stern talking to about her attitude toward Mom, when Laura came in and told me that a delegation from Hilltop was asking for me. Very little upsets my equilibrium, or at least outwardly, but this was one time that it did.

Mom had a multitude of questions, and so did I, but they die in our throats when the man tells us that Daryl asked for me specifically. Michonne’s eyes met mine and we both knew that whatever I’m needed for at Hilltop it’s of the utmost importance, because Daryl wouldn’t ask for me for anything less than something paramount.

I insist, since I’ve been paged, that I be allowed a chance to tell Negan first. I can see the wince, the twinge of irritation at the announcement, but too fucking bad. After hugging RJ and kissing Judith and promising I’ll be back safe and sound as fast as I can, I head to my house to pack a small bag and stop by Negan’s cell to let him know I’m off to Hilltop for an unknown purpose.

To say that he took it poorly would be an understatement. His distrust for Daryl is palpable. His distrust for Maggie, Glenn, Hilltop in general is so heavy that I’m shocked that he can breathe through it.

“You don’t even know why you’re fucking going, Jessi.” He sighs, eyes tight, looking like every muscle in his entire body is wound as tight as a spring. “What if-”

“What?” I shook my head and stepped closer, putting my fingers through the bars, touching his skin and pulling at him so he would move closer and I could touch more of him. “What if, what?” My eyes locked on his, drinking him in, this man who even caged was a riot of strength. “They bind me and lock me away? I dare them to try.” He rolled his eyes, but his long arms reached through the bars and wrapped around my back pulling me into him, the bars keeping us apart, but only just. “Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, will keep me from seeing you again, Negan.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Jessica Grimes.” He leaned down, lowering his head, his lips and mine meeting through the gap in the bars for a kiss before I had to head to Hilltop to see what was so important that Daryl needed my attendance.

 “Says her name is Lydia.” Daryl was telling me as he led me down a set of cellar steps. “She was easy to catch, makes me think they left ‘er behind on purpose.” I nodded, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light of Hilltop’s very own jail. “Something ain’t right about her, Jessi. And if anyone can get it out of her-”

I nearly snorted, but then my eyes landed on the girl. Dirty as hell, straggly hair, teeth that looked like they’d never seen the sight of a toothbrush, and eyes like a cornered animal. Yeah, this was a different breed of human, alight. Movement caught my eye in the cell next to hers, and I did snort then.

“Henry? Is that you?” Dear Lord, Ezekiel’s son was locked up in Hilltop. “What the literal hell did you do to get locked up in the Hilltop clink?”

“Hey, Jessi.” He sounded defeated, upset, embarrassed, and defensive all at once. Impressive for a snot nosed teenager. “Didn’t know you did a lot of visiting.”

Well spotted, I thought, but kept it to myself. “I’m the tri-community cell inspector. Newly minted.” Nothing, until I heard a tiny grunt of laughter from behind me and had to bite my lip to hold back my own giggle. Fuck, I think I got a chuckle out of Daryl Dixon of all people. “Hilltop’s look more spacious than Alexandria’s, since you’re from The Kingdom’s, you have insider knowledge of those? Any help is appreciated, might save my ass a trip.” My eyes were on Henry’s, but I swear to God, I felt Daryl’s snort in my toes.

Henry’s eyes were wide, and I felt pretty sure he was trying to decide if I was serious or not, but my eyes went back to the young woman in the cell next to his. She was tucked into the furthest corner from where I stood. Her eyes were darting between the three of us, since Daryl hadn’t left the cellar yet, but I planned on getting his ass out soon enough. Her fingers were tugging at the cuffs of her sleeves, and I was trying to focus on whether it was simply a nervous habit, or if she was hiding something at that spot.

“Daryl?” I didn’t raise my voice, there wasn’t a need and I didn’t want her to jump. “Could you bring me something cool to drink? I’m a bit parched, and I want Henry here to give me some insider information on those Kingdom cells.” He grunted his assent and after the door gave me the proof that he was gone, at least from sight, I smiled at the girl. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your cell neighbor, Henry?”

Henry blinked at me, I could see him out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t let my attention move from the girl. I wanted her to know that I was entirely focused on her. If she was primal, then showing her that I was in charge was important.

“Oh, right, sorry.” Henry, the adopted son of the self-styled King Ezekiel of The Kingdom, finally found his fucking manners. “Lydia, this is Jessica Grimes. Her mother is the leader of Alexandria.” Close enough, I thought, trying to keep from rolling my eyes. “Jessi, this is Lydia. She’s-” And that’s where he faded. Helpful.

“Hello, Lydia.” Voice still quiet, pleasant. Keep soothing, make sure that she knows I don’t bite. Unless it’s necessary. I watched as one hand stopped fidgeting with her sleeve and went to her earlobe. “Does your ear hurt?” My head tilted as her hand dropped along with her chin, but her eyes never left mine. “Lydia?”

“She has an ear infection.” Henry, the world’s worst or strangest ventriloquist. And it hit me, teenage love. Shit. He was into her. Dirty and traumatised as fuck, Lydia was his type. How weird. “Daryl brought medicine with food, but-”

“Do you not trust the medication?” I addressed Lydia. While Henry was helpful as the puppet voice, I wanted to get Lydia involved in the conversation. “It’s hard to trust people who put you in a cage, I do know that.” Trust me, I DO.

“Jessi really does, Lydia.” Thank you, Henry, I thought. Right there as the world’s best/worst backup singer. “She fell in love with-” I couldn’t hold back the long sigh that hit me. I had to, it had to come out. Sorry not sorry. “Sorry, Jessi.” Yeah, pretty fucking sure that Henry was in the clink to dry out. Verbal diarrhea tends to be a symptom.

“Not a problem.” I was still studying Lydia. “Daryl tells me that you’re a member of the group that attacked and killed our people.” Her eyes flickered around the room, landing on Henry, the window, the door, the bars, me, and again making a route. “Lydia, I’m unarmed.” I lifted my shirt, took a slow turn to show her that I truly wore not a single weapon. “I haven’t fought anyone hand to hand for a very long time.” Also true. “I am NOT here to harm you.” I wasn’t. From what Daryl told me, and Tara had reiterated while I listened and took mental notes, was to find out how dangerous this girl was. Whether she was important to her people and whether that made her valuable and dangerous.

I take a seat on the ground, ignoring the wooden chair that sits nearby. I know that Lydia is probably wondering why Daryl hasn’t returned with the cool drink I asked for, but I plan on distracting her with other tactics. Henry, with a short glance his way, follows suit. Lydia, after a few beats, joins us.

“I heard that you said ‘hunger is a gift,’” I tell her, leaning against the wall behind me, getting comfortable. I want her to know that she is correct, as I’m sure she was thinking that she’s been eavesdropped on. “Hunger is what you make of it, nothing more, nothing less.” I watch her as she puzzles through my words, I can see the war fighting inside her head. “My father, his mentality throughout this entire mess, ebbed and flowed. On one hand, he wanted us to learn to use every single hardship that this fucked up world handed us to make us harder and stronger and fiercer.” Her eyes blazed as they met mine and I knew that whomever she feared or learned from had put that idea firmly inside of her. “On the other side? He was terrified that in doing that, in gripping the hard and using it to brace us and build us harder, it would steal the best and ONLY reason worth surviving. Our humanity.” I thought of Judith, of RJ, of Mom, of Negan, of Daryl, of Carol, Maggie, Glenn, and on and on-

“Hunger isn’t the gift, Lydia. LIFE is the gift. Never forget that.” I sighed. My eyes landed on the medication bottle lying close to me near the bars. I reached out and took it into my fingers. “Dealing with pain when you don’t have to? That’s martyrdom for martyrdom’s sake, and it’s stupid and shitty.” I tossed it to her and smiled when she caught it easily. “Good hands, now take the fucking meds.” Henry was staring at me, but I was gratified to see a smirk on the girl’s face. “Now tell me about Alpha, and how often you’re beaten for no apparent reason so we can discuss whether the cell is a permanent situation or not.”

 Daryl had listened in on Henry and Lydia’s conversations before I’d come. I HAD insider information. I didn’t need to wait and dig, but I did want to see what I could garner without using it.

And what I learned was that Henry was overprotective and Lydia was more than willing to let him do the talking. Lydia was abused. She watched her mother kill her father. She watched this woman run roughshod over EVERYONE and no one stood up to her. Why would she suddenly choose to stand up for herself among strangers?

Which was the point where I gave up. Why not just admit that I knew it all? Cut out the middle tape and the middleman and get to the damn point of it all?

Plus, it’s HILARIOUS to freak out teenagers. Seriously. Try it sometime. I dare you.

“It’s not for-”

“No apparent reason?” I asked, biting back a yawn. “Lydia, listen, I’m here because I have this uncanny ability to cut through bullshit. OK, not really, but I do have a background in trauma.” Henry’s eyes were zeroed in on me so hard that I swore I’d end up with fucking marks. “When I first met Henry’s mom,” I heard him shift and I knew he was thinking of what he’d shared with her about Carol’s past. “I knew that she was abused by her husband. Not only because of her hair, but her eyes.” Lydia’s were still locked on mine, as though I were telling her a fairy tale. “People who are victims of repeated terrorization by loved ones, their eyes are haunted. They’re also fidgeters, they twitch and they jump.” Just like you, I wanted to add, but I didn’t.

“But I should do better,” she was still fighting to prove that her mom, that her leader wasn’t in the wrong. That she EARNED her ‘punishments’. “I shouldn’t-”

“Irritate her?” I offered, raising an eyebrow. “Upset her?” I leaned forward, raising my knees to prop my elbows on top of them. “You shouldn’t say whatever you said, whenever you said it, however you said it, to get her to hit you? Or you shouldn’t have looked at her in that tone?” I shook my head. How often had I heard it? Or seen it? When I’d volunteered during high school and college? “Abusers will never take credit for being the ones who perpetuate abuse, Lydia. The blame will always lay at the feet of those who they victimize. Even if that victim is an infant.”

 The next round of questioning came with the subject of how important Lydia felt she was to her mother and people. Would they come for her? Would they attack our people again? At what cost?

[mrslittletall]

Title: Off Balance (Chapter 7) Fandom: Hollow Knight Characters: The Pale King, The Pure Vessel, Herrah, Hornet Word Count: 10.962 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21805333/chapters/58496248 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/616114517764685824/title-off-balance-chapter-6-fandom-hollow

Summary: The Pale King and Hollow venture into Deepnest to meet up with Herrah, so that Hollow can meet their sister. Not everything goes smoothly.

(Author's note: Long chapter is long!

I would have liked to cut this chapter in two, but it feels like it has to be this long, it would feel wrong to cut it in half and publish as two chapters. There was so much I wanted to put into this chapter and I am satisfied I managed, I am just amazed that I managed to break the 10k word mark. That is the longest chapter I have ever written.

Once again, I need to thank all of you who commented on this piece, your support is what keeps me going.

I also need to thank @catanutella, who draw some art inspired by my fic which you can find here and @ruthlesslistener which latest Hollow Knight oneshot inspired me to add a tiny scene at the end.

Also, I shit you not, I dreamed up a scene for this chapter! Ask me which it was if you want or try to find it our yourself ^^)

“We will take the tram from the Basin to Deepnest.”, the Pale King said to Hollow as they walked away from the palace. “Once we are there, we have to walk the rest by foot.” The Pale King had preferred to take the tram that would lead more closely to Herrah's den, but even though construction works had gone on for a while now, it just never seemed to get finished. Maybe he should use the opportunity and see what the problem was, when he was already there.

“Tram?”, Hollow asked, quickly signing each individual letter, not knowing a sign for the word they just had learned.

“It's a vehicle that moves on rails.”, the Pale King explained. “It can move rather fast and get you from one point of Hallownest to another in a short amount of time, but it is fixed on one layer. The tram we are going to take will get us to the lower levels of Deepnest and then we need to climb up to meet Herrah at her den.”

“Understood.”, Hollow signed, silently following the Pale King, only the foot steps of their void feet, mixing with the clacking of the Pale King's claws, were heard. If one didn't knew they were there, it was easy to forget about their presence. The familiar guilty pang bloomed in the Pale King's chest, his teachings of not to feel anything had made them that way, that was the only reason they were so good at being silent, at acting as if they wouldn't exist.

It was only a short walk to the tram station, Hollow didn't even need any help, their balance had improved vastly over the last week, they mostly still had trouble with balance while trying to fight and when teleporting, they just wouldn't be able to stand straight after it, they always would get pulled down by their horns, having a few painful impacts with the floor whenever the Pale King hadn't managed to catch them in time. It had gone so far that they had to transfer the training near a soul statue, so that they could deal with the constant cracks in their shell. For how much the Pale King encouraged Hollow to make their own decision, training until they were so dry of Soul they could barely stand wasn't one he approved of, they could be surprisingly stubborn about their training. He just wondered from who Hollow had inherited that train, or not, he exactly knew from who they had inherited it.

Arrived at the tram station, the Pale King breathed out a short sigh of relief at how empty it was. This particular station was mostly occupied by bugs coming from and going to Deepnest, which wasn't a common occurrence. The main reason why the Pale King didn't want to ride the stag ways, even though he had ordered to build them, wasn't only that the stags weren't too fond at his decision to build the trams, but rather that they were riddled with bugs, bugs who would stare at him, bow to him and do nothing but praise him, a thing that was fine when they were far away, but felt extremely awkward when he was in the middle of it. He would feel like wanting to run away screaming, but would be forced to stay and act regal, he was their king after all, a higher being. It would only make him incredible cramped and would give him a desire to stay in the palace for a whole year, he wouldn't be a good role model for Hollow as well. They had picked up on his anxiety anyway already, no need to display it in front of them any more.

The Pale King pulled out the tram pass he had organized before they left and inserted it in the slot at the station, only a short while later the tram arrived. Hollow stared at it and if they would have been able to make an expression, the Pale King could swear their eyeholes would have gone larger.

“That is the tram.”, the Pale King said and moved closer to the door. “Let us enter.”

The both of them entered and the tram was as empty as the station in front of them, which was much to the Pale King's preference. That was the good thing about having a bad relationship with Deepnest, nobody ever wanted to go there. The Pale King sat down and gestured for Hollow to sit down next to him. As the tram rumbled and started moving, the Pale King noticed that Hollow fidgeted with their fingers.

“Are you nervous?”, he asked them.

“Yes.”, Hollow signed and the Pale King laid his claws on their shoulder. One of the advices in Monomon's letter, make your child feel safe and understood when they are unsure. Physical affection always seemed to help with Hollow.

There were a few minutes of silence before Hollow signed: “What is Deepnest like?”

“It's a dark place.”, the Pale King replied. “Actually, while we have to wait to arrive at our destination this is a good opportunity to tell you about a few rules.”

Hollow turned their head at the Pale King and cocked it lightly, showing that they were listening.

“Like I said, it is a dark place.”, the Pale King said. “Quite literally. When the White Palace is a place full of light, then Deepnest is a place devoid of light. I, naturally, glow in the dark, so I would like for you to stick close to me.” Hollow nodded as the Pale King got something out of his robes, a tiny glass ball filled with a few glowing flies. “But if we ever get separated, I need you to have this. It is a lumafly lantern. It will grant you light in a dark place.”

Hollow accepted the lantern and stared at it, stroking it with their fingers, observing it from all angles, obviously being fascinated by it. “Of course it would be better if we don't get separated.”, the Pale King said, leaving Hollow a few minutes to observe the lantern until they were satisfied.

“Next, Deepnest isn't a part of the kingdom.”, the Pale King said. “It consists mostly of predators and they could attack us, especially if they are infected.” The Pale King shuddered a bit, the infection was still a problem with no solution. He needed to find one, soon, at least before Hollow would offer to be the Vessel again. He still got an icy feeling in his stomach when he even thought about that scene.

“Herrah is kind of the leader of Deepnest, we don't want to anger her, so don't kill anyone that isn't infected.”, the Pale King said. “It would be better if you use your nail only in an emergency situation, let me handle any predators, I know enough spells to incapacitate them.”

Hollow nodded, but still clutched their nail. The Pale King remembered, that while Hollow had trained with a nail since they hatched, they never actually had gotten send out to fight the infected with the five great knights. They truly were a skilled warrior, but they lacked proper experience.

“So, in short, stay close to me, only use your nail when absolutely necessary. Do you understand?”, the Pale King asked and they confirmed with a nod.

A few more moments of silence and then Hollow signed another question: “Why is sister at Deepnest?” The Pale King noticed that they used the signs for dark and nest for the last word, practically calling it Darknest, but he got it just fine.

“It's because Hornet is watched over by Herrah.”, the Pale King said. “She... was part of the bargain to convince Herrah to be a dreamer. It's.. complicated.”

While the Pale King would have liked to tell Hollow exactly just how Hornet had come into existence, he felt it was a bit too much to unload on them that he practically had engaged in a dalliance with Herrah and Hornet could be considered his bastard child. His Root never had been mad at him for it though and she even seemed fond of Hornet, often talking about her whenever she met up with Herrah. The Pale King assumed that it was kind of a coping mechanism for his Root at the loss of her biological children.

Hollow didn't ask further. Why should they, he had let through that he was uncomfortable talking about this topic and they surely wouldn't pry further. The rest of the ride was spent in silence until the tram came to a screeching halt and Hollow nearly fell over at the sudden loss of balance, being supported by the Pale King who had grabbed the end of their robe.

“We are here.”, he said. “Stay close to me, Hollow.”

Hollow nodded and the both of them exited the tram. Around the station, there was still light, but it was barely possible to see two metres into the dark. Now the daunting task to navigate Deepnest and actually reach Herrah's den was in front of them. The Pale King pulled out a map of the place and planned a route while Hollow was looking at every direction, taking in the sight, or more the darkness, there wasn't much to see.

Once the Pale King had mapped out the route and saved it in his mind, he looked at Hollow who clearly had waited for his attention, because they signed: “Place is dark.” They looked around another time. “Not even birthplace was that dark.”

“Can... can we not talk about this place, please?”, the Pale King said, having a sinking feeling in his stomach, the sinking feeling of several thousand dead children locked in this place.

“Sorry.”, Hollow signed and they looked down, almost toppling over. Whenever they even shifted their horns downwards, their balance would be off at once.

“It's quite alright, Hollow.”, the Pale King said. “I am just... not ready facing that place again.” Or more, he had vowed to himself that he would never return to it. What was the point? Hollow had been the only survivor. All other vessels had been stillborn, cracked shortly after birth or had fell on the way to the top. It had been a cruel thing to watch and he had been a cruel father to let it happen, the guilt gnawing at him even months later.

However, enough about being lost in thoughts. They were on their way to something more bright. At least for Hollow it should be, the Pale King only felt incredibly awkward around Herrah, especially after the had... He shook his head and started to put one foot in front of the other. The sooner they managed to cross Deepnest, the better.

“Follow me and stay close.”, the Pale King said and Hollow nodded, starting to follow him. His natural light illuminated the caves around them, so that there wasn't a need for a light source, like he had explained to Hollow earlier. Most of Deepnest's inhabitants were quite sensitive to light, so he hoped that this would be enough to keep them at bay, even the infected ones. He had overheard some of the Royal Retainers once and some of them had admitted that it downright hurt looking at him, so bright could his light be.

The Pale King looked back to make sure that Hollow was following him. Despite their void nature, they weren't bothered by his light at all and if, they were excellent in hiding it. He saw that they had drawn their nail, despite him telling them earlier to only use it in an emergency situation, but he also knew that Hollow viewed their nail as emotional comfort. They probably only were holding it, with both hands, he realized, one at the handle and one at the tip, to calm themselves down from any fears they felt.

“Hollow, if anything is bothering you, tell me.”, the Pale King said, but Hollow shook their head and continued to follow him. They either were fine with the situation or tried to be brave and the Pale King suspected the latter was the case. However, because he tried to encourage them to be their own person, he didn't want to to make them feel that they couldn't make their own decisions. If he would tell them that they didn't have to be brave, they would only take this as cue to fall completely back into their dependency on him. Getting this mindset out of them was still a work in progress.

The walk was silent, well asides from the noises that Deepnest would make, the constant crawling and chittering of the bugs in the darkness and generally noises that made anyone feel unwelcome here. In the outer parts of Deepnest there lived mostly Dirtcarvers, a predator that would burrow underground and strike when their prey least expected it. Luckily, most of them still seemed to have their wits about them and didn't emerge, probably knowing that even with the bad relationship Hallownest and Deepnest had with each other, that it wouldn't be wise to attack the literal king and whichever bug was following him. On the rare occasions of an infected Dirtcarver emerging, the Pale King summoned a few spears and would incapacitate them in place, still hoping that they could find a cure for the infection and wouldn't have to take down every bug which displayed symptoms. At least the infection didn't seem to have spread too much to Deepnest, for most of the time, their walk was rather peaceful, in lack of better descriptions for Deepnest.

A bit further in, the Pale King spotted the first Deephunters glaring at him, quickly running away once him and Hollow approached, either being bothered by the light or fearing that this prey could be too big for them, not wanting to waste their venom. Of course their venom would be hardly deadly for a Higher Being, but it would still hurt and in too high concentration could start to get deadly, so the Pale King was rather satisfied that he didn't had to fend them back.

Occasionally the Pale King turned around to check on Hollow, once again regretting that he hadn't given them a voice, because without them making a single sound, it was hard to interpret just how they felt. They looked around and took in the surroundings, bravely following him step by step, sometimes needing help climbing a ledge by the Pale King, because jumping still caused them balance troubles and their wings weren't useful for flight, never commenting on the situation, probably because their hands were busy holding their nail and they didn't want to let go to sign or write in their journal.

“Are you feeling fine, Hollow?”, the Pale King asked after they had approximately reached the halfway point to Herrah's Den. Hollow just nodded and seemed to clutch their nail harder.

“Alright then.”, the Pale King said and started walking again. The ground of that tunnel felt kind of off, he thought. It felt like it could burst anytime and just as he realized that the weight of two bugs may be too much for the already fragile ground, it crumbled. In the spur of the moment the Pale King spread his wings to lift himself up, turning around having kind of suspected that Hollow had either jumped or teleported when they felt the ground giving in, but his child was nowhere to be seen.

“Hollow?!”, the Pale King asked, panic blooming in his chest. “Hollow, where are you?!”

Of course they didn't answer, couldn't answer, how could they without a voice. He had to find them and quick. That they weren't anywhere at the edge of the newly formed gap meant, that they probably had fallen down and what if they had gotten hurt and couldn't move and not even cry for help down there? The Pale King got a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Wait.”, he told himself, in an attempt to calm himself down. “If they have gotten hurt, then they must still be down there.” He flew the gap down, which thankfully wasn't that deep, but still deep enough for a bug to break their shell if they landed wrong and Hollow had the tendency to land on their head when they fell.

They weren't down there. At least that meant they hadn't gotten hurt enough so that they couldn't move or that they were able to heal any injuries with soul, but that was the only comfort the Pale King had. He actually had preferred to found them down there, where he easily would have been able to fix them up with his own soul, them not being there meant that they now were wandering through Deepnest, alone and scared and maybe out of enough soul to heal any injuries they could suffer.

“Hollow?”, the Pale King shouted again. “If you can hear me, make some noise.”

There wasn't anything and the earlier panic manifested back in the Pale King. What if he would never find Hollow again? What if he would only find their shell? What if their shade would get unleashed, lashing out at him for all the suffering he had inflicted on them? What should he tell his Root, that he lost their last living child? He sunk to the ground, heavily breathing, as the panic took completely over. The last time he had felt this hopeless had been when the Radiance nearly had killed him and he needed to channel every last amount of Soul to heal the life threatening injury. At least, that had only been about himself, now, he had lost the very one being he was responsible for, he had started to care so much about and he didn't want to lose for anything in the entirety of Hallownest.

The frantic beating of his heart in his chest slowed down as he made a decision. He wouldn't let Deepnest take his child. The Pale King got up and considered how he should start the search. Sadly, he had neglected to tell Hollow what to do when they got separated, it would be best for them to stay put, but judging how scared they seemed to be off Deepnest, they probably panicked once they got separated and ran away.

The Pale King noticed something on the ground which didn't reflect his light. Only one thing in Hallownest was able to swallow his light and that was... void. Indeed, there were traces of void on the floor, which implied that Hollow indeed had gotten hurt by their fall, but not hurt enough that they couldn't move anymore. If the Pale King would follow the trail, he would find them.

He hadn't followed the trail for long when he caught the glimpse of something white and black hushing along the tunnels, with two very big horns. “Oh, Hollow, there you are.”, the Pale King said, following their figure, not questioning why they didn't stop when they heard his voice or just why they could move so gracefully quick, even though they usually would fall over every few steps at this pace.

“Hollow, wait.”, the Pale King said, “Where are you heading? I am right here. Look, I am sorry that I left you hanging earlier. Aren't you hurt? Let's take a look at your wound.”

Hollow didn't answer, of course, but they also didn't sign or did... anything to show that they heard the Pale King. Sometimes they would stop and wait for the Pale King to catch up before hurrying into the tunnels again. “Have you discovered something and want to show it to me?”, the Pale King asked, getting more and more confused about Hollow's behaviour, a feeling that something was wrong with them grew inside of him, maybe they really had hit their head and now couldn't think straight or some parasite of Deepnest had taken over them. Either way, for the Pale King to help them, he needed to come closer and they always would run away again, when he was close enough to finally reach them.

“Hollow, stop this.”, the Pale King said “This isn't funny anymore.” They had arrived at a rather spacious tunnel and just now the Pale King noticed that there were two things wrong with Hollow.

The first one was, that they weren't carrying the Lumafly Lantern he had given them earlier. Judging from their earlier remark, they couldn't see in the dark.

The second, and that was the more alarming one, was that they weren't carrying their nail they had hold on so conscientiously earlier. Even when they had lost the nail, the Pale King knew that they would go search it before doing anything else. That was probably why they hadn't been there, they had let go of their nail and went to search it in a panic as their comfort item vanished from their grasp.

The suspicions of the Pale King about having faced an imposter became true when the “Hollow” in front of him started to transform and their body turned into one of a big black and orange predator (an infected one), hissing and bubbling at him. Of course it would attack, of all the bugs in Hallownest, he was the one the Radiance wanted to be dead the most.

“Hmph, don't underestimate me.”, the Pale King said, flicking his wrist to summon several projectiles, dictating them to fly at the predator and impale it. He knew he couldn't just incapacitate this one, but judging from the fury the creature had for him, its mind had been completely took over by the will and orders of the Radiance, getting it out of its misery could be considered an act of mercy.

The creature started to charge against him and the Pale King ordered his projectiles to target its head, but shortly before they could impact, he hesitated.

That was still Hollow's face the creature was wearing and even though the Pale King knew that he was unreasonable, after all he did to Hollow, he couldn't bring himself to hurt this face, even if it was clearly an imposter in front of him.

His hesitation was enough that he predator could pin him under its claws, roaring at him. He could practically hear the Radiance's excitement at finally having a chance to strike her arch enemy down, with the help of a powerful predator she had managed to overtake. The Pale King knew that he needed to attack, defend himself, but his gaze was still on the face of Hollow that the imposter was wearing and there was it, that crushing guilt. There was the picture inside of his mind of Hollow cowering in fear when he had made several projectiles fly at them, wanting to test their new balance, still thinking that they were nothing but an empty being, realizing how hard they had tried to pretend and it made him unable to move, even when the claw drove into his flesh, a hot pain searing through his shoulder and blood seeping out of the wound.

The pain briefly brought him back to the severity of the situation, if he wouldn't do something, anything, the predator would cut him down and the Radiance would get her will. Though, why she didn't order the predator to kill him right away... she probably wanted him to suffer, kill him slowly and painfully. He could use this to his advantage. He forced himself to conjure another projectile and hurled it between him and the claw, rolling away when the predator shrieked in protest at the sudden obstacle, struggling to get to his feet. He couldn't fight the creature, not as long as it was wearing Hollow's face and making him incapable of hurting it because of his own guilt, but at least he could flee and find the real Hollow, who hopefully hadn't become a victim of this predator.

That thought, together with the wound, was enough for the Pale King to struggle and fall over, the impact jostling the injury and making him incapable of getting up because of the pain.

“Focus...”, he murmured to himself, trying to conjure soul to heal himself, but it was too late. The predator had already caught up to him and he closed his eyes awaiting the impact of its razor sharp claws in his back, but it never happened. Instead, he heard the sound of metal clashing against claws.

As he opened his eyes and turned his head, he saw Hollow, the real Hollow, standing between him and the predator, their nail fighting against the force of their strike. They were shaking and the Pale King couldn't say if it was from effort or rage. He only knew that he was more than glad to see them, alive and well, though they did get pushed backwards one by one.

Enough of lying around., the Pale King thought to himself and though it would have been more wise to heal his injury first, seeing his child in danger made him lose any reasonable thoughts and so he jumped up and conjured several projectiles, ignoring the pain flaring up from his wound.

“Leave our child alone.”, he hissed, throwing the projectiles at the predator, now that his real child was here, that mind trick wouldn't work on him anymore.

His aim was a bit shaky, but most of the projectiles hit their mark, well, would, if the predator wouldn't have jumped backwards, dodging a majority of them in the last second. At least it gave Hollow some breathing room. The Pale King turned his head to check on them, only to see they were face first on the ground. Of course, they had tried with all their might to push back their foe and when suddenly the force pushing them back vanished, they would lose their balance and with them being still off balance, they wouldn't be able to keep themselves up.

With the nail in their right hand, they struggled to get up. The predator took this as a chance and their claw was about to strike down. The Pale King, while not being fond of it, it would cost him large amounts of soul, teleported between the claw and his child, summoning a barrage of projectiles to protect the both of them, but he wasn't quick enough, the claw managed to rip another wound, this time in his arm, he gasped as the pain hit him.

If he would have been in his wyrm form, that predator would have just been an easy meal, swallowed in one gulp, but he wasn't in his wyrm form anymore, he had changed himself to a form that was more akin to the bugs of this kingdom and with that came disadvantages. As he summoned another barrage of projectiles to not let the next strike hit them, especially not his child, he noticed that Hollow had managed to get up again and also noticed that they weren't waiting behind him, instead, they jumped up and drove their nail into one eye of the predator, which shrieked in pain, orange goop leaked out of it.

“Hollow, what are you doing?! Stay behind me!”, the Pale King yelled, unaware that he had been on the defense all this time and Hollow just wanted to give him an opening, he could only watch when after the attack they failed their landing and the impact with the ground sounded rather painful.

The Pale King dropped any projectiles he still controlled and hurried over to his child, summoning new projectiles on the way, intending to string them between the predator and his child, but pain, blood loss and exhaustion from all the soul he had used caught up to him and made him unable to spread his wings, instead, he scurried over the ground, having to see how the claws of the predator bolted down on a helpless Hollow, which stared, simply stared and shortly before the claw could hit them, they didn't use their nail in an attempt to block it, but instead looked away and flicked their left hand, spear pillars emerging from the ground, impaling the predator on them.

The Pale King watched with wide eyes as the death cry of the creature sounded and even Hollow managed to direct their gaze back, crawling a bit backwards when they saw what had happened. Copious amounts of the infection regorged on the ground, staining Hollow, and the shell of the predator soon fell lifeless on the ground once the pillars vanished.

Hollow started shaking and soon tears ran down their face. The Pale King was at their side in an instant to pull them into a hug.

“Father.”, they signed. “Scared.”

“I know.”, the Pale King said. “I was scared too.” Scared of losing you. “I am so sorry that I lost you earlier.” He hugged them tighter, their shaking still not ceasing. They must have been terrified and still, they had saved him. Without their interference, he would have let himself strike down by the predator, simply because he couldn't get the image out of his mind of a Hollow that had cowered in fear of him.

Hollow reciprocated the hug, but withdrew their hand and stared at the white liquid on it. His blood.

“Father, you are hurt.”, they signed. “You saved me. Now you are hurt.” They then proceeded to sign the word sorry in quick succession until the Pale King took their hands in his claws, not without wincing, that arm and shoulder of his hurt, preventing them from signing the word out once more.

“The opposite is the case, Hollow. If you wouldn't have come, I would have let myself struck down. It was you who made me able to move again and it was you who took down the predator.”, he said, slowly releasing their hands.

“I did?”, they asked. “Not you?”

Clearly they were confused and seemed to think that the last attack had come from the Pale King, not from them, no wonder, they never had used this attack before. The Pale King was once again astonished about their tight control over soul, even though they had done it in a panic, they had managed to copy a complex spell that he may have shown them once or twice when they still had been a grub.

“No, that was all you, Hollow.”, the Pale King said and then scanned their body. “Are you hurt? Are you in pain?”

Hollow first shook their head and then nodded, contradicting themselves.

“Well, yes or no?”, the Pale King asked.

They raised shaky hands to sign: “Cut my foot earlier. Is not bad. Healed my shell with soul.”

That meant, they had gotten hurt earlier by their fall and, like the Pale King had anticipated, fell face first, though that didn't explain how they managed to cut their foot. Which also was void and so couldn't be healed with soul, which only would heal the shell.

“Can you explain how it happened?”, the Pale King said.

Hollow was silent for a while and then signed: “Fell. Felt a panic. Teleported. Foot got caught in something sharp. Fell over again. Hit my head. Healed it with Soul. Then couldn't see you anymore. Went to search.”

Alright, that explained just how it had come to all of the events that led to this moment. The Pale King should have never let Hollow fall down into that pit, they didn't knew what they should do and had tried to find their only source of comfort and the person they depended on: Him.

“Let me see your wound.”, the Pale King said.

“Father, your own wounds...”, they signed, but he shook his head and said: “I can heal myself in a second, let's take care of you first.” The relief of his child being safe was enough to make him forget that there still was blood seeping out of his own cuts, staining his robes and the ground around him.

Hollow shyly presented him their left food, which indeed had a nasty cut in it which leaked void blood.

“I can't heal void with soul.”, he said. “But we can make sure that it doesn't bleed anymore.” He conjured a bit more soul and formed it into the form of strap, which wrapped itself around Hollow's feet, securing the wound tightly and keeping it from leaking. “There, now you should be able to strain it without trouble.”

Hollow got up and took a few shaky steps, nodding, then stared expectant at him.

“I know, I know, I will heal myself now.”, the Pale King said and conjured up soul to guide into his injuries, but he had to realize that there wasn't any soul left to guide anywhere.

“I … seem to be out of soul.”, he said and along with the realization and the relief about Hollow being fine, the severity of his injuries came toppling down on him and he could feel himself slip into unconsciousness.

When the Pale King awoke, he still noticed a dull pain in his arm and shoulder, but they felt much more manageable. He was propped up against a wall and when he investigated his wounds, he saw that they were wrapped tightly, not with soul, but with what looked suspiciously like Hollow's robe. He turned his head to search for them and found them in the middle of the cave, where the predator had hung it's prey from the ceiling, working on getting a Dirtcarver down with their nail. There were several more dead bugs hanging from the ceiling, clearly victim of Deepnest's philosophy of “eat or get eaten”. One of them looked kinda like a Vessel. The Pale King blinked and then shook his head, was his mind still playing tricks on him? Asides from Hollow, no other Vessel survived.

Once Hollow managed to cut down the Dirtcarver, they took the prey in both hands and brought it over to the Pale King, cutting pieces out of it with their nail.

“What are you doing?”, the Pale King asked, startling them. They turned their head to them, laid their nail down and signed: “Father, you are awake.”

“Yes, indeed.”, the Pale King said. “So, what are you doing?”

“Food.”, they signed. “Tried to heal you. Failed. Only healed myself. Patched up your wounds.”

Indeed, their robe was in poor shape and they obviously had cut off one sleeve to use it as bandages for his injuries and now they tried to feed him, probably hoping that his soul would be able to get replenished by eating.

“Soul doesn't get replenished by eating.”, he said. “Only by resting or directly absorbing it from a source. That is why we have the soul statues in the palace.”, he said.

They stopped cutting up the Dirtcarver and looked at the Pale King. He didn't need words to know what they wanted to say. “Eating surely won't hurt.”, he said. Even though in his current form he had started to cherish food that had been prepared, he had just ate everything raw once. It wouldn't kill him to devour one Dirtcarver, especially when it would make his child happy. “But I want you to eat too.”, he said. Hollow was still a growing grub and would need large amounts of energy once their second transformation hit. He wouldn't let them go hungry.

Hollow nodded and soon they were biting down on the Dirtcarver, which soft shell luckily was easy to break through. By tasting the raw meat, the Pale King even could feel some of his old instincts coming back, the desire to hunt and taste fresh blood on his tongue. He couldn't believe how primitive and brutal he once had been. Hollow ate in silence next to him, in their own unique way, which pretty much just looked like their void body absorbed the food. That was probably what they were doing. He needed to finally ask them just how they were eating, but that was a question for another day.

After they were finished, the Pale King got up and took a look at Hollow, their cut robes and the orange stains of infection on their shel as well as his own torn robes, his bandages shimmering through. “We are pretty worn up.”, he said and took out the map, until he found the landmark of the lair of the predator, studying it to find the route back to Herrah. Even though he would have preferred to get Hollow home that instant, they seemed to have calmed down and he could only imagine how mad Herrah would get if he wouldn't show up.

“Oh, there is a hot spring on the way.”, the Pale King said. “We should stop there, to get cleaned up and heal our injuries. Hot springs are a natural source of soul.”

Hollow nodded and the Pale King took a step forwards only to get dizzy and almost fall over. He had lost too much blood. Hollow tried to catch him, but only fell over with him.

“My apologies.”, the Pale King said. “I seem to be a bit weaker than I thought...”

Hollow got up, straightened themselves, put their nail into the ground and then lifted him up with a strength he didn't even know they possessed, using their left arm to support him and their nail to prop themselves up, giving him a stare that the Pale King only could interpret as: “Lead the way.”

A gladly uneventful, but rather painful journey later, the both of them had arrived at the hot spring. “Finally.”, the Pale King said, as Hollow released their grip on them. He opened his robe and let it fall on the ground before stepping into the hot water, already feeling how the natural soul in it seeped into his body and closed the cuts on his arm and his shoulder. As he was in the process to remove the bandages, he saw Hollow joining him.

“I don't know if the hot spring can heal your void body, so better don't take off the bandage around your foot, just in case.”, the Pale King said. Hollow nodded and in the natural light of the hot spring, he could see a lot better just how dirty their shell was.

“Hollow, come here.”, he said, gesturing for them to come closer, which they did, their empty eyeholes staring at him. “Turn around, I am going to wash your horns.”

Hollow did so without hesitating, even sinking a bit deeper into the water, giving the Pale King easier access to their horns. The Pale King started to gently clean their horns with the hot water of the spring, scrubbing off the dirt and especially the chunks of infection that had gotten stuck in the jagged parts. Hollow of course didn't say anything, didn't even move while he worked, but he had the feeling that their former tense posture seemed to relax under his care.

Once he was done, he laid his hands on Hollow's shoulder and said: “There, now you look presentable again.”

Hollow nodded and then watched as the Pale King proceeded to wash his own body, mostly making sure that his body would absorb all the soul it could. As he carefully cleaned the area around the King's Brand, not wanting to damage the charm, he noticed that Hollow stared on it or more, at a area slightly beneath it.

“What is it, Hollow?”, the Pale King asked, stopping to wash himself and waiting for them to explain. They raised their hands, or stubs, upon their relaxation they seemed to have released the shapeshift. After a few seconds of forcing the void to form fingers again, they signed: “Scar? How?”

The Pale King's face fell a bit upon their question. He had preferred for that question to be asked another time.

“...It was the Radiance.”, he murmured, staring down into the hazy water. “I grossly underestimated her and her willingness to attack when I was still a young and clueless wyrm and just had arrived at this kingdom.”

He raised a hand and laid it over the scar. He could still feel the pain, shock and panic from back then. “Trying to negotiate, she didn't want to listen and hit me with one heavy blast. I could heal myself with soul, but I used up all of it to heal up the deadly wound. It was the day that I learned that I wouldn't win a direct fight against her.”

He removed the hand from his chest and looked at Hollow, which, from the outside, pretty much looked like always, but their stance implied shock. It maybe had been too much for them, he was pretty much their whole world and knowing that he almost died to the enemy they had been supposed to seal...

“F..forget about this.”, the Pale King said, noticing that while he had told that tale, he had unintentionally flared his wings. “That hasn't anything to do with you.”

Hollow just shook their head and also didn't raise their hands to sign. Instead, they got up, staggering for a tiny moment before catching their balance and then moved behind the Pale King. The Pale King just assumed that they had enough of bathing and wanted to shook the water off, when he felt the icy sensation of their fingers at his wings and winced in surprise.

“What are you doing, Hollow?”, he asked. “Be careful, these things are sensitive.”

Hollow stopped and tapped his shoulder to get his attention. As he turned around, they signed: “Will wash wings of Father. Father complained about them not easy to wash.”

“You remembered that?”, the Pale King said, kind of amazed. He had indeed said something to them, shortly after they hatched and he had brought them in the palace, giving them their first bath and having talking to them as if they were a real hatchling and not a mindless construct to seal the Radiance. Well, now he knew they had been a real hatchling. That meant, they must have felt emotions since they had been very young.

Hollow nodded and the Pale King had the feeling they would have said more things, but their hands was busy gently grooming his wings, their icy touch combined with the hot water of the spring a completely new sensation, but not an unpleasant one. So far, he had only allowed his Root to touch his wings. Thinking about it, Hollow's touch was not unlike the one of his Root, proving once more that they were indeed his and his wife's child.

Once they were done and retreated, the Pale King felt not only clean, but also relaxed and bursting with soul. He stood up and shook the water off, walking over to his robes, because he didn't intend to stand in front of Herrah's door naked, even though she had already seen him like that, he didn't want to send the wrong message. To his disdain, his robe was not only torn, but also stained with his blood.

And Hollow's robe didn't look much better, mostly stained with orange infection blotches and that one sleeve completely cut off, having formed his earlier bandages, which were now laying next to the hot spring, soaked and stained with his blood.

“...Let's at least wash them.”, the Pale King said and used the water of the hot spring to clean the robes out, removing any stains and then using his soul to dry them, at least enough that they could be worn comfortably again.

He handed Hollow their robe and slipped into his own. “We can't do anything against the cuts.”, he sighed. “And I am afraid we have to get a new robe for you.” As Hollow let their head hang, he quickly added: “Oh no, don't worry, you did the right thing.” Hollow's head perked up again and the Pale King finished his thought: “However, it's better than to stand to stand in front of Herrah's door step naked. She will have to live with our clothes being torn.”

After all, it had been a predator in her territory that they owed their current state. Herrah could be glad that it had been infected, had the creature been lucid, it would have seriously worsened the relationship between Deepnest and Hallownest.

As the Pale King studied the map and planned out the route, Hollow stepped next to him and he saw the soul bandage around their foot, a stab of guilt in his chest. That had only happened because he hadn't paid enough attention. Once the Pale King folded the map and put it away, his hand found the one of Hollow and closed around it.

“I won't let go of your hand.”, he said and he could feel them squeeze his hand, telling him that they understood.

The rest of the way they didn't get attacked by an infected powerful predator anymore, but Deepnest showed beautifully just why it was so feared by almost all bugs, with Weavers scampering around, appearing from seemingly nowhere, Stalking Devouts demonstrating just how they chopped up their prey as well as the creature known as Corpse Creeper waiting in seemingly harmless husks, that had became prey for another bug, and bursting out when last expected, as well as the ground constantly crumbling and while the Pale King didn't lose Hollow anymore, the moment the ground vanished under them again, Hollow got a good scare.

Now they were finally in front of Herrah's Den and Hollow couldn't help it anymore, they were shaking, finally giving in their fear and nestling against the Pale King, who did his best to calm them down, by rubbing soothing circles in their back.

“There you are.”, the voice of Herrah sounded, appearing out of the shadows. “You certainly took your time.”

“There is a reason for our delay.”, the Pale King said, slipping in his monarch personality, but Herrah's gaze was entirely fixated on Hollow.

“What's wrong with them?”, the asked.

“...Deepnest was a bit much...”, the Pale King murmured and Herrah scoffed.

“Of course Deepnest would be too much for a child that you treated like a thing until you finally realized how dumb this was. Why did you even make them walk through the entirety of Deepnest when there is a stag station right there? Let me guess, because you didn't want to be seen by anyone in public.”

The Pale King shrunk down under her words more and more, each of her words was driving the nail deeper into the coffin.

“Come here, child.”, Herrah said, her voice taking on a rather motherly tone. “Let's get you a hot drink and some food to calm you down.” The Pale King saw how she gently guided Hollow inside, who turned their head to look at him, with that cocking of their head that portrayed concern.

After a good while had passed, the Pale King managed to get himself together and followed Herrah and Hollow inside, where he found them sitting at a table, Hollow having a steaming cup of ...whatever in front of them as well as something that looked like cookies, but probably was made out of meat. Either way, they didn't seem to care, because their shaking had stopped and they were devouring the “cookies” without a second thought.

“Ah, there you are, wyrm.”, Herrah said as she spotted him. “You said there was a reason for your delay. Is it the same reason why the robes of your child are torn?” She gave him another glance and he was sure she narrowed all of her eight eyes under that mask. “Your own don't look much better. How unusual for you to come into another's territory in such an unkempt state.”

“We were attacked by an infected predator.”, the Pale King said. “It lured is into its lair. Hollow managed to take it out.”

“Let me guess. Big, black, with long legs and showed you something you care about to lure you in?”, Herrah said. The Pale King nodded and Hollow added by doodling a picture of how the predator looked on their journal, which they apparently had used to converse with Herrah, judging by the few words written in it.

“Nosk, as I was thinking. One of the predators that could rival me, but never dared to attack my den. It always would hunt far away from it.”

The Pale King shuddered a bit, how casually Herrah was talking about territorial behaviour, it reminded him once again of the wyrm tribe, only that he had decided to take a much more civilized approach. The reason that Deepnest didn't get along with Hallownest was mainly because they still held on to their instincts, even with a mind to think.

“You must be quite a fighter to have taken it down.”, Herrah said, her gaze on Hollow, as opposed as when she was staring the Pale King down, it very much softened once they talked to Hollow.

They just shook their head and wrote something in their journal. Herrah looked at it and said: “What, that wyrm that just sits in his palace and tinkers in his workshop all the time? Unbelievable.”

“We can hear everything you say, Herrah...”, the Pale King said, not having enough energy to start a full-fledged argument. Herrah always seemed to be able to just put him into her pocket. He kind of found it unbelievable that he really had shared a night with her.

Herrah gave him that glance that looked like she wanted to say “Do I look like I care?” and he could hundred percent believe that this sentence was on the tip of her tongue.

“Whatever.”, she said. “You came here for a reason, mainly for the reason that Hollow had the chance to meet their sister.”

Hollow nodded and almost fell with their head on the table, balancing themselves with their hands just in time and then signed two words. Herrah looked at the Pale King and he knew that she silently prompted him to translate.

“They want to know where there sister is now.”, the Pale King said. In truth Hollow had only signed the words for “sister” and “where”, but he decided to embellish their words a bit more.

“Just in the back room.”, Herrah said and stood up from the table. “But before we go there, just a minute.” Herrah made a sound as if she had clicked her fingers, which felt impossible, because she didn't even had fingers, she was a spider after all, and shortly after, a weaver appeared. “Fix the robes of the king and the child.”, she said and the weaver got to work right away, soon the robes of the Pale King had been patched up with spider silk and Hollow's robe even got a whole new sleeve from the same silk. They tugged and prodded at it with interest.

“All your clothes should be made by spider silk.”, Herrah said. “You won't find a more sturdy material in the whole of Deepnest.”

It's not like Deepnest would ever offer their silk to us., the Pale King thought, but didn't enunciate. For now, he decided to stay polite. It was for Hollow's sake after all.

“We thank you very much for your assistance, Herrah.”, he said and even gave her a polite bow, which only earned him another one of those Herrah-glances.

“Now, let's get you to meet your sister.”, Herrah said, attention at Hollow, who stopped investigating their fixed up robe and looked from Herrah to the Pale King.

“Go.”, he just said and saw how one of Herrah's legs gently laid down on Hollow's shoulders and guided them through the room. He himself followed them at a certain distance, fearing a bit that his natural light would upset the child, that had been born in Deepnest and certainly was more used to the darkness, though Herrah's Den wasn't as dark as the rest of Deepnest. For once, he cherished Hollow's void body, that didn't reflect light. They certainly wouldn't upset their little sister with being too bright.

It surely was only a short walk, but for the Pale King it felt unbearable long. He hadn't seen his daughter since she had hatched, wanting to wait for her to grow until inviting her in the White Palace, hoping that Herrah would agree for her to come over and, he had to admit, there had been a part in him that hoped that she would allow him to raise her once she turned dreamer, but he had buried this part deep under his sense of duty. He hadn't even raised the child of himself and his Root right, how should he be able to raise his bastard daughter?

Finally arrived (though it probably only had been a minute or so), Herrah stopped and gestured to a red bundle sitting on the floor, a bright white face with black eyes and two horns starting to grow from the top, similar to Herrah's. She was busy stacking blocks on each other (the Pale King didn't want to know from which bug husk they had been fabricated) and giggled once the whole structure crumpled and fell.

“There, this is my sweet, little Hornet.”, Herrah said, nothing but love and devotion in her voice. Hollow just stood there and stared and then raised both hands to their face. The Pale King had never seen them done this before, but he could only assume that they tried to express just how adorable Hornet was for them. “Why don't you go over to her?”

Hollow once again looked back to the Pale King, who gave them a gesture to just go. Now that any danger was averted, they seemed to be full back on their dependency for him, though this was a new situation for them, so he could hardly blame them.

Hollow took a few shaky steps towards Hornet, fidgeting with their hands, then seemed to take a deep breath and took the last few steps to their sister with much more confidence, carefully sitting down next to her. Hornet stopped her game of block stacking to look at the new bug beside her. Hollow raised their hand to wave. Hornet waved back with one of her little spider arms, it was kind of adorable and then she took Hollow's hand and invited them to join her in her game.

“This went better than expected.”, the Pale King sighed out, not aware that he had said this out aloud.

“Oh? Did you expect for your child to attack their sister, wyrm?”, Herrah said.

“What?! No, of course not.”, the Pale King said, wondering how Herrah even could come to that conclusion and remembering that maybe after their union he had rambled about how it was common for wyrm hatchlings to eat their siblings and that Herrah maybe should keep her half wyrm hatchling fed as well as possible. “We were... worried about other stuff.”

“I noticed.”, Herrah said, crossing her two upper front legs. “All that glancing back to you, being unsure what to say or how to act, waiting for someone, anyone to command them.” The Pale King already flinched under her words, feeling that he knew what would come next. “When I took them in, I had to tell them to sit down, had to tell them that it was fine to take from the offered refreshments and had to ask them if they had a way to communicate, because they would literally not move on their own.” She gave him another sideway glance. “Wyrm, you have done your best to raise this child into an obedient little knight.”

“We know...”, the Pale King said, looking at the ground. “We are working on reversing it. It's... a work in progress.”

“Good luck trying to get this behaviour out of them.”, Herrah said. “Children need love, care and devotion and not being told that they are a mindless construct only there to act as a vessel.”

These words hit the Pale King so hard, that he could physically feel them. “We know we haven't been the best father to them...”, he started in a weak attempt to defend himself.

“Not the best? Wyrm, that is the understatement of the century. Or the millennia, to put it in a time span that your race understands.”, Herrah said and managed to drown out any arguments the Pale King had in stock for the moment.

After a few minutes, he regained his composure and said: “...You were fine with the plan.”

“To keep my people... and her..”, she gestured at Hornet who was currently clapping at how high Hollow was able to stack the blocks, “safe. I never was fine with your 'methods', wyrm.”

“We realized that our methods were wrong.”, the Pale King said, trying to put his attention on Hollow and Hornet. This whole conversation was making him feel sick.

“Better late than never.”, Herrah said. “However, be aware, that husks in your closet will come to haunt you.”

They already do., the Pale King thought to himself, not a single day passed where he regretted what had happened in the Abyss. Desperately trying to change the subject, he said: “Hornet has grown quite a bit since we last saw her.”

At once, Herrah's tone softened, it was more than clear that Hornet was her world, her everything and that she would do everything for her. Even becoming a dreamer. “Yes, she did had her last molt just recently. I still have her old exoskeleton.”

“Herrah, what?”, the Pale King said, feeling a tiny bit grossed out. He didn't remember that his parents had collected his molt, but wyrm society was a lot different than bug society. Also, he probably had eaten his molts as a hatchling, anything edible just wasn't safe around wyrm hatchlings. He silently thanked himself that his transformation into bug physiologically had succeeded that far, that at least his children hadn't tried to eat each other. Not that this would have helped them anyhow, they still were very dead in the abyss... He seriously needed to stop thinking about this. He blamed the shape similar to a Vessel he believed to have seen in Nosk's lair.

“Hmph, of course you haven't kept anything personal of your child, being too busy to convince them to be, you know, the Vessel.”

Ah, there they were again. The Pale King had to admit, he never had cleaned out the void chrysalis that Hollow had hatched from into their current adolescent form. Back then he had just convinced himself that he didn't had time for it, but nowadays he knew that he had grown attached and wanted to keep that sign of their development. He didn't try to engage into another conversation with Herrah and instead watched Hollow and Hornet.

Hornet had lost interest in her block stacking game and had became far more engrossed by Hollow, or more, their horns. They had lowered their head for her to take a better look and she examined especially the jagged parts, seeming to be fascinated by them. It made sense for the Pale King, she only knew her own horns and that of her mother, which were smooth, how Hollow's horn jagged at three places was something completely new for the little spiderling.

“They seem to like each other.”, Herrah said. “I haven't seen Hornet that fascinated since a while.”

The Pale King just nodded, not taking his gaze of his children. Looking at Hornet like this, still a tiny grub, not even able to talk properly yet, just reminded him how hard he had tried to convince himself that Hollow was nothing but an empty vessel, damaging them and their relationship in the process. He had never allowed them to be a child, raised them for a purpose and only realized how wrong he had acted when they already had reached their adolescence. The Pale King suddenly understood just why Quirrel had advised against letting them visit a school, they were emotionally certainly not ready for it, not only because of their dependency, but also because he had never allowed them to be a normal child and now that he allowed it, they had trouble getting the concept and it was his fault alone.

After Hornet had enough of Hollow's horn and they raised again (not with almost falling over the other way, which made Hornet giggle), she tugged on their robes. Hollow looked at the Pale King and Herrah and the Pale King knew this gaze, they were asking for advice, or more, asking how to act.

“She wants you to pick her up.”, Herrah said and as Hollow cocked their head at her, she added: “It's fine, she is a sturdy little grub. Just yesterday she climbed the cupboard and didn't had a single scratch when she fell down.”

Now the Pale King gave Herrah a side glance and that after she had lectured him about bad parenting, but then he remembered that Herrah was half spider and spiders just never seemed to get hurt when they fell down. Also, he doubted that Herrah would have let Hornet done something she deemed dangerous.

Hollow carefully extended their arms and searched for a way to pick Hornet up. Once they managed, the grub flinching a bit, surely because of the sudden coldness, they gently sat her down on their lap. Hornet looked up at them for a brief moment and then cuddled their face in their robes.

It was more than adorable and the Pale King averted his gaze, feeling his face blush, as all these feelings about his children, both of them, threatened to spill over, but was pushed forwards by Herrah.

“Why are you standing there, wyrm? These are your children, you should join them.”

He took a few shaky steps towards them, realizing just how much he acted liked Hollow earlier when he caught himself fidgeting with his claws, almost falling over his own tail when it wrapped around his legs. Then, he followed Hollow's example and took a deep breath, covering the last few steps with a newfound confidence, sitting down to both of his children.

“Hollow, do you like your sister?”, the Pale King asked, knowing that Hornet was still a bit too young to answer any questions. They nodded and if they had been able to smile, the Pale King was sure they would have done it. Hornet stared at him with wide eyes, that eyes that only grubs could have and Hollow picked her up from their lap and offered for him to take her.

“Um..”, the Pale King said, being ready to jump up and hide behind Herrah, “What if she gets fuzzy...”

“You are her father, wyrm.”, Herrah sighed. “Just hold her.”

So, the Pale King complied and gently took Hornet into his arms, she was a lot warmer than he anticipated and tugged at his robes, clearly being interested in them. Hollow sat next to the Pale King, their gaze on their sister and he could feel Herrah's watchful gaze on him, but mostly he was amazed. How this little grub, that came from an union between him and the queen of Deepnest, could feel so comfortable in his arms. He decided to just cherish this moment, for once not thinking about anything he would regret, thinking about that Hornet would be able to grow up with her mother and maybe, when she was older, even visit the White Palace, and if only to play with Hollow.

After a while Hornet had enough from getting cuddled and demanded to be sat down by rather loud chirping, which the Pale King did. The little spiderling dashed with an awesome speed to her mother which picked her up and said: “Well, I think that was enough excitement for her. I should try and lay her down for a nap.”

Herrah then excused herself and left the room, leaving the Pale King and Hollow alone.

“Father.”, Hollow signed. “I don't understand one thing.”

“What is it you don't understand?”, the Pale King asked.

Hollow signed a few words and then shook their head, clearly unsatisfied with how they formed the sentence and instead flipped their journal out.

“Herrah said she is Hornet's mother, but she is my sister, so why isn't my mother also Hornet's mother?”

“Um.”, the Pale King said, having preferred to explain it to them at another date. “It is true that Hornet is the daughter of Herrah. The daughter of Herrah and... me. We could say, the two of you are... half siblings, you share one parent.”

Hollow stared at the Pale King and then wrote another sentence: “Does that mean Herrah is a homewrecker?”

The Pale King had a bit of trouble believing his own eyes as he stared down at their journal: “Who even taught you this word?!” (Author's note: A big thanks to @dreamlikequality who inspired me to add the scene with Nosk. A thing about Hollow is, that I really enjoy the challenge of writing them as mute and not being able to form any expressions, so that I need to think about several factors when they want to talk. Their sign language improved in this chapter, but their sentences are still easy and simple. However, I am not perfect, so if you want to add anything to how to write a mute character and how to handle sign language, feel free to tell me. Hornet is still young in this chapter, young enough to not being able to talk yet, I would say as a human child she would be around one year old. It was my first time writing Herrah and as one of the characters we don't know much about, a lot of it is headcanon based, but I hope you enjoy my interpretation of her. Please tell me your thoughts and favourite parts of that chapter in the comments down below. Thank you very much.) Chapter 8

[freddiesaysalright]

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.”

[bananaink]

KeGo December Day 4 - Shaking hands

“MIDORIYAAA!!”

Izuku startled and looked up from his notes at the loud scream in the distance. His eyes quickly surveyed the campus. No one was supposed to be on campus anymore, not at least without supervision which Izuku easily put himself above such silly rules. From his little hiding place behind an old hero sculpture - drowned in bushes - he could see the owner of that loud voice standing in the middle of the campus, hands cupping his mouth to accelerate his scream and whirling in a quick circle.

Confused, Izuku put his notebook back into his hiding place – a little hole he had carefully chiseled out of the sculpture and manufactured a lid for it to seamlessly close it – and tiptoed away from it before walking out of the bushes. A good distance away from the sculpture.

“What?!”, he screamed back and saw how the other boy turned around to face him. Kirishimas white sharp teeth almost blinded him as the redhead immediately came running for Izuku, arms pumping with every step. He had his work-out-cloths on and sweat rolling down is face and neck. Scorch marks on his arms and shirt indicated that he had probably been training with Bakugou and his usually carefully gelled-up hair was limping and bouncing ridiculously with every step. Izuku couldn’t help the amused twitch of his lips and tentative smile creeping over his mouth as the other boy booked it over the campus.

“Midoriya, this is amazing!!!”, he yelled in a way of greeting and Izuku could feel the short spike of unease when the boy didn’t show any sign of stopping himself. But Kirishima always stopped himself, no matter how short or abrupt or acrobatic. So Izuku waited and watched him skidding to a halt with spinning arms. His used sneakers dug into the ground in an attempt to slow down. Izuku snorted at Kirishima, who almost fell in his haste to redirect his speed and just eyed him amused when he finally ended his unnecessarily sprint to stand – a little bit too close – in front of Izuku. Panting.

“What? Did Bakugou finally bit Aizawa? I told him it’s the easiest way to get rid of his hovering.”

“No, what? Not that, I mean, he came close but-”, Kirishima shook his head and his floppy hair spikes looked like wind chimes. Izuku was just about to pull out a joke about them, contemplating if he even could joke about Kirishimas hair and how he looked because he was still figuring out what counted as a friendly tease and plain rudeness – but then Kirishima leaned forward, almost brushing nose with Izuku, burning bright-red eyes staring right into his soul, cheeks tinted red from excitement.

“You are amazing!!!”, he yelled right into Izukus face and Izuku in turn felt his brain shirt-circuit.

“Uh...”

Kirishima bounced in place, grin getting even wider and not in the slightest discouraged from talking more by Izukus less than excited response.

“You told me I could improve my mobility with redirecting and stuff, you, know? Lessening the hardening around my joints and stuff to be more mobile and it worked!!! You should have seen me, I jumped out right from under Bakugous hand and he fell flat on his face! I was so fast! I mean, he still kicked my ass which is like, encouraging, but this is the first time I ducked!!”

Izuku blinked in rapid succession from the onslaught of words and uttered another totally helpless: “Um. Okay.”

This time though Kirishima wasn’t satisfied with it and leaned forward again.

“I did as you said and It worked! It took you one second to look at my quirk and you just knew how to make it better!!”

Izuku flinched a little bit at that, remembering other people and other quirks he had looked at and known how to make better.

“Sorry?”, he said reflexively and Kirishimas face fell a little bit and he shook his head again.

“No no, this is great! This is super-great!!! You helped me!”

Izuku tried not to frown and get his stiff face to form a smile as his hands started to tingle and his quirk acted up. It roamed through his skin and reached out for something to latch on to, to grab, to bring forward – and suddenly Kirishimas arms and face hardened in the blink of an eye. Kirishima uttered a confused ‘huh’ and Izuku could feel the sharp edges under his hands and waves of the warm pulsing quirk washing through his body. The comfortable high of touching another quirk, feeling it, activating it and gently caressing it under his palms had Izuku gasp and they both stared down at their hands.

Kirishima held Izukus hands in sharpened fingers.

“AH! Sorry! I didn’t mean to-”, Kirishima yelped, almost panicked, and started babbling apologies but didn't dislodged his hands immediately, probably scared of cutting the other boy with a wrong move. Izuku on the other hand stared at their intertwined fingers and tried to process the touch. Ignoring Kirishima, he tried to remember when the redhead had even grabbed him? He hadn’t felt anything, not the terror of someone else having even just a part of his body in their hands.  Touching him.  

Kirishima was touching him and he wasn’t feeling scared at all!

Izuku reinforced his grip when the redhead carefully tried to pry his hands free and looked up again. He could feel his hands trembling, shaking with the new discovery.

“We are holding hands.”, he said, amazed and could feel Kirishimas quirk shift in his grasp. He wasn’t holding it captive, wasn’t prodding it to stay active or testing its limits, straining against Kirishimas natural response to shut off. It simply activated with a gentle brush of his fingertips and now blew warmth into his hands and arms and body and face. All while holding hands.

Kirishima made a nervous sound in the back of his throat and then awkwardly shifted. But his quirk stayed active. Izuku could feel it staying content, calm.

“Uh, yeah.”, the redhead laughed a little bit breathless and stiff because of his hardened chest. And Izuku – dizzy with the touch and how good it suddenly felt - couldn’t help himself. He looked down again, turning their connected hands around, flexing his fingers carefully.

“Sorry for activating your quirk.”, he said on autopilot because that damn quirk counselor, Aizawa had forced upon him, had told him he was supposed to say this. But he didn’t mean it. Not really. Not when it felt so good and warm and he could gently push his own quirk over Kirishimas and feel it roll up in his hands and gently turn down to a small simmer. Trusting him.

“Oh! This is new.”

Izuku looked up to see Kirishimas smooth, fleshy and soft skin, cheeks dusted with red color and eyes also staring at Izukus scared hands.

“My quirk just... I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I didn’t either!”, Izuku said and they met eyes. Somehow Izukus cheeks grew hot and warm and he itched for that hidden notebook to write this discovery down. But under those glowing red eyes full of amazement Izuku felt himself tense up – embarrassed, nervous, overwhelmed - and his quirk responded with the equivalent of slapping Kirishimas quirk over the head with a pan.

“UFF!”

The redhead stumbled a little bit as his quirk activated so suddenly and Izuku quickly let go before he could worsen it and accidently harden him too much again. Aizawa would be pissed if he found out that he had accidently activated Kirishimas quirk again, even without noticing that they had even been touching and-

Wait.

Just as Kirishima found his footing again, shaking himself like a wet dog coming out of a bath, Izuku surged forward and grabbed his hand. With a pounding heart he waited for the fear, the terror and flashbacks another person's warmth brought him, the shadows at the corner of his eyes, but nothing happened. Except for a very startled Kirishima looking at his hardened forearm and grunting. But his hand was still soft. Izuku marveled at that.

“Look! Look! How am I doing that?!”, he stressed and Kirishima – easily infected with excitement and knowing how hard it was for Izuku to control his quirk – squeezed his hand with a happy noise. It only made Izukus cheeks even hotter and a warm feeling unfurled in his chest. Kirishimas elbow poked out a little bit sharper than usual.

“I don’t know!”

“This is- I need to write that down!”

“Yeah, you should!”

“And I need to test it! Find out why I have control in the first place.”

“Sure, we can do that. I mean, I just finished training but I think I can manage a few more-”

“Let’s go to Aizawa.”

“Wait, what?”

Izuku pulled confidently at Kirishimas hand and his cheek twitched with a manic grin, glee and a weird fluttery but good warmth surging from the point of contact through his whole body. It made him invincible. Strong.

“I wanna show him!”

Kirishimas face had lost some color and he nervously pulled with his free hand at his own shirt. Izuku knew he was unnecessarily afraid of his guardian and gripped Kirishimas – still fleshy! - hand with conviction.

“Uhm, I don’t think that’s a good-”

Izuku turned around and pulled a spluttering Kirishima along.

__________________

Guys, I barely made it with my last braincells. This is getting hard, you guys. :’D

But that’s the point. Keep it going. So sorry if this feels choppy? I think it’s a bit choppy. But maybe because I’m tired and should be sleeping now :’D

As usuall, shout out to @banashee !!! Send her some love!

And this chapter is on AO3

Have a great day!

[stevemoffett]

Pandemics Don’t Get a Cute Pun

Being Afraid

It’s been twenty-one days since I’ve spoken to another person in the flesh. Before that, I had gone for seventeen days. And before that, a week.

The first week of no contact began when I said goodbye-for-now to my co-workers. I decided to wait to go to the grocery store until that first wave of people had passed before I tried going. On my last grocery trip, I had decided to “stock up” in case I had to isolate for a little while, and so, having no idea how disruptive the situation would become, I bought a whopping three boxes of spaghetti and one big jar of sauce.

My all-spaghetti diet ran out by Monday, March 23rd, and I had nothing else edible in the apartment. So, even though it wasn’t cold, I put on my jacket (to limit my skin-to-air exposure), a baseball cap (to stop myself from scratching my head, a nervous habit), and my glasses (I stopped wearing contacts to avoid touching my eyes). By March 23rd, the CDC and WHO had not yet recommended wearing gloves or masks in public. But I already had gloves at home (you never know when you’ll need nitrile gloves), and I had two masks that I had to wear when I was around someone who was immunocompromised earlier this year, so I put one of the masks and a pair of gloves on. Then I drove to the store.

The local store was letting about twenty people in at a time. There was already a line forming, just five minutes past opening. I walked to the end and we all stood waiting about six or so feet apart from one another.

Nobody made conversation. In people-watching moments like these, I associate whatever behavior I see with the general attitude of wherever I am, even if there is no such stereotype: Ah yes, that reserved Texas stoicism I’ve heard so much about.

When I got into the store I pulled out a cart and walked stiffly. The night before, I had gone on the store’s website and written a list of the items I needed, grouping them by what aisle they were in. I was going to snake my way through the store one time, get in line, and leave.

A complicating factor of doing it live was that there were lots of people to avoid. During an ordinary cold season, I usually watch out for people near me who might be sick. If they look like they may possibly be sniffling or flushed, I take a breath, hold it, and let it out through my nose slowly as I pass them. Here in the grocery store, I did this every time I walked past people in the aisles, and for extra protection, I scrunched my eyes shut.

There were signs posted limiting the amount of each product you could buy. No more than four boxes of pasta at once, for example. The pasta shelf was totally cleared out except for whole wheat pasta, so I took four boxes of that. I bought three eight-pound bags of dried pinto beans, a couple of bags of rice (I’d heard that beans and rice together make some kind of magical combination where you can avoid protein deficiencies even if you don’t have any meat), a big bottle of canola oil, butter, four big jars of spaghetti sauce, a bunch of hot sauce, ketchup, tofu, and frozen vegetables. The meat aisle was almost completely picked over—I managed to get two pounds of ground turkey from there, though. I didn’t get any eggs because I enjoy them too much; I knew that it would be better to make a clean break from them until after things got back to normal than to agonize over eating the last of them.

In line, I had an extremely full cart. By contrast, an old man in shorts behind me had about four things in his, and he wasn’t wearing gloves or a mask.

I heard him say, in a very low voice, “Stupid motherfucker.” Maybe he said, “Stupid motherfuckers,” plural, but I felt like it had to be at least be partially directed at me.

The teenager who rang me up seemed relaxed. I felt demographically exposed. Now that I am middle-aged, I am very aware of my interactions with teenagers. If movies are any lesson, there are about six million ways that I can make an encounter with one of them a) awkward, b) creepy, or c) both.

“Have you seen many other insane people dressed like me?” I asked, cringing behind the mask since I had already failed point a).

“Not many,” she replied.

“Well, thanks for being here,” I said. “Thanks for your help.”

“No problem! I’m getting paid a lot to be here!” She said.

When I got home, I decided to take everything up to my place in multiple trips. Climbing up and down the stairs for each trip, though, I started to sweat. When I came in with the last of the bags, I set them on the floor and took my gloves off. I could feel a bead of sweat dripping down my forehead. If it got past my eyebrow and went into my eye, then maybe some of the virus that had landed on me from contaminated grocery store air would be carried into my eye, and that would be Game Over.

I hurried to the sink, tossing the gloves into the trash and ripping a paper towel off the roll. I crumpled it and pressed the part of the wadded-up towel that hadn’t touched either hand over my closed eye.

As the sweat was wicked away from my eyebrow, I felt my fingers moisten and I thought, Could any germs from my hand travel back through this sweat bridge and into my eye? It was true that I had been wearing gloves, but maybe I hadn’t taken them off carefully enough and I’d touched my wrist, or the outside of one of the gloves, and not noticed. I had also grasped the side of the roll to rip the paper towel off. Had I contaminated the edges of a bunch of sheets farther into the roll, too? Could I even be sure I’d properly bunched the paper towel I was holding to my eye without having touched the eye-facing part?

I decided to text all of this uncertainty in a big run-on paragraph to my brother. He responded, “I think you’re fine.”

After blotting the sweat, I got the bright idea to sanitize the frozen vegetable bags I’d bought before putting them in the freezer by spraying them with bleach. I brought them out to my balcony so that I could spray everything down indiscriminately. I sprayed all the bags, waited a couple of minutes, then started wiping them off with a fresh paper towel.

As I wiped the bags, I noticed that they were not airtight; there was a series of little pinholes all over the bags in what seemed like regular intervals. I assume that this was a design feature of the bags. But I could see that the bleach spray was disappearing into the holes, which meant the cauliflower and broccoli inside were absorbing it.

I realized then that I had inadvertently poisoned all of my vegetables. I tossed them in the garbage and thought again of what the old man behind me in line had said.

Now I had no source of vitamin C. I’d thought that there might be vitamin C in meat, but there is not. You get it mostly from leafy greens, a few fortified foods, and citrus fruits. I checked online and found that if I got zero vitamin C, I had at least four weeks until I got scurvy. This meant that I couldn’t go longer than four weeks before my next grocery trip. It was a relief to know that I had a date where re-stocking was mandatory, because if there wasn’t one, I might have felt overly cautious, enough to start rationing my food so that it lasted as long as humanly possible, and I’d lose an unhealthy amount of weight by cutting my calorie intake down to the minimum 1200 a day.

But without a vitamin C source, that wasn’t necessary. I certainly had enough food to last me for four weeks, as long as I was strict. I wouldn’t be able to have any cheat nights, but I also wouldn’t go hungry.

I sprayed the bleach on the faucet handle and the soap dispenser, and left the non-perishable food—Sriracha sauce, ketchup bottles, mustard, oatmeal, spaghetti sauce, and boxes of spaghetti, all standing upright—out on the floor between my refrigerator and the front door. I’d wait another 72 hours before handling them, and even after that, I would wash them with soap before use (except for the cardboard spaghetti package).

Those first few days were extra paranoid because I knew that it was possible I had already been infected. A few nights, I woke up around 3 to use the bathroom, and as I passed my upward-pointing non-perishables there on the floor, they looked less like food items and more like a bed of nails, or like stalagmites deep in a cave: hostile, and waiting for me to trip.

If I cleared my throat several times within a couple of minutes during the day, I got worried. If I sneezed or felt congestion when I woke up, the anxiety would percolate in the background until the symptom went away. I began sniffing my toothpaste to make sure I could still detect mint, since the news had come that smell loss was a common symptom.

But all of this was a distraction from the real sources of my dread: my parents and sister. My parents are old and my younger sister is frail. Each of them has at least one comorbidity waiting to gang up on them if they were infected. They all live together, and my sister requires enough close monitoring that if one of them gets it, they will all get it.

My father has had a particularly distressing habit that he likes to trot out from time to time over the last decade, but since his stroke, he’s doubled his efforts. What he does is personify the small voice in my mind that prevents me from getting back to sleep at 3 AM.

He called me the other day, just to talk. And mostly, the conversation went as normal: I tore my hair out at his and my mother’s relative (to me) disregard for proper exposure limiting, and he gave me his latest movie or TV show recommendations.

After I tut-tutted over another unnecessary trip somewhere both he and my mother had taken recently, he responded, “Yeah, that’s true, it is a risk. Well, you know, if one of us gets this, then all of us will. And we might all die.”

He let the words hang there until I responded, with as little emotion as possible to show him that he wasn’t winding me up, “Sounds like it’s a good idea to be even more careful, then.”

As I said, he’s made a habit of nihilistic portending for the last ten years. The problem is that I am always trying to banish those thoughts when they’re still merely thoughts, but then he just blurts them out, which makes them real. Does he not understand after almost forty years that no matter how irrational, uninformed, or biased a father’s words can be, they are still taken to heart by the son?

And he says these things, but then he doesn’t change his actions in kind. If he believed that the situation were that serious, wouldn’t he be battening down the hatches instead of making flimsy excuses to go to the grocery store? Does he really need to get that steak because he has a coupon? Does he really have to go there for Kandy Kakes because they’re buy two, get one free? Is it really worth rolling the dice each time?

I did ask him this directly, and he replied, “Well, we have to live.”

He meant “live” figuratively—I knew that they had enough bland food there to last them a long time. I asked him, “So the difference between ‘living’ and ‘not living’ is going to the grocery store?”

The frustrating contradiction is that for a generation so insistent on austerity being the “tough love” that the world requires, my parents sure don’t want to be austere. When I had trouble getting a job just out of undergrad, I was told to “pound the pavement,” carrying my resume with a suit on and applying to places in person, because it would be “more impressive” than applying online. The most frequent criticism of theirs was that people my age are lazy softies who can’t do anything for themselves. My dad, who had been a mechanic in his adolescence, liked to repeat a joke about my and my brother’s lack of mechanical knowledge: “If Steve had a nut, and [my brother] had a bolt, the two of ‘em wouldn’t be able to figure out how to get them together.”

Yet, if anything ever has been, this is the time for austerity: you shouldn’t make any unnecessary trips for indulgent foods. Instead, stick with the bland, nutritious diet that will last a long time, and stay away from public places. You can truly turn the risk almost down to zero that way, by being austere.

I think that my parents (I can’t speak for their entire generation, just them) have two aversions to properly responding to the virus. The first is that hiding inside one’s house is not what courage looks like. Courage is going out and showing the virus that they won’t be cowed so easily! Staying in, by contrast, is living in fear and surrendering. But it’s not true. The virus can’t be “shown” anything because it is a cell-invading machine. It isn’t trying to cow them, or “try” anything at all, for that matter. It is only spreading. It’s also confusing because the other great fear of our time is terrorism, and in cases of terrorism, that is the right attitude to react with.

To explain their second aversion to responding prudently to the virus, I believe that at a certain age, you just feel entitled. If you’ve had a life like most people’s then you’ve had your share of happy times, but you’ve also had your share of awful ones. And at this point, almost seventy years in, you probably think, the painful parts ought to be mostly over. You don’t deserve to be cooped up in the house right when retirement, really the only good part of senior citizenship, is beginning. Therefore, you deserve to be able to go out and do things. Unlike the timid young, you simply don’t have the time to waste inside.

While I can understand both aversions (as well as a younger person is able to, that is), I can still disagree with them. And I can still get extremely angry when my parents show this behavior.

For that reason, I am not without my own nastiness. I’m sure my mother didn’t appreciate the time I said to her on the phone, “I want you to remember you said that when they’re hooking you up to a ventilator,” after she told me she’d gone to the Starbucks drive-thru that morning. I mean, yes, what I said was truly ghoulish, but I said it out of love. And, desperation.

Because the 3 AM nightmare that I have lately is the one where I send my usual text to my mom asking how they’re all doing, and she texts me back, “Well, [my younger sister] woke up with a little fever, but she’s fine, she’s fine…”

*

I hear the horror stories. Funerals that have to be attended via the Zoom app. Final goodbyes said over Skype or FaceTime. People dying at the hospital, all alone. I know that it is naive to hope for this, but I still want to be one of those families that just dodges it entirely, you know? Just completely lucks out.

Even though I know those horror stories I keep reading are a textbook case of selection bias (you don’t hear about the vast majority of cases, where a person gets kind of sick but then recovers and is fine), if I want to do some simple panic math, here are the numbers.

-A reasonable infection rate over the whole US population, based on the R0 value: 50%.

-The chances that if one of the three vulnerable people in my family gets it, all three will end up infected: nearly 100%.

-The chances of them dying, given their ages/comorbidities (I’ll be more optimistic with this statistic): 15%, for each person.

Here are the likelihoods for the optimistic scenarios:

-None of them get it. That’s 50% x 50% x 50%, which equals 12.5%.

-They all get it, but they all survive: ~87.5% x 85% x 85% x 85%, which equals about 53%.

That doesn’t represent complete coverage of the probability space, since there are minor variations in what could happen, like each of them could theoretically be infected from an outside source and then give it to only one of the others. But as an estimation, it covers the most major scenarios decently.

So then, to get the probability of the “bad scenarios,” in which at least one person dies, you take the complementary percentage: 100% - (53% + 12.5%) = 34.5%.

Am I really looking at about a one in three chance that one of my immediate family members will die, to say nothing of my grandmother, sister, brother, sister-in-law, niece, and nephew? Hopefully not. The more time that goes by with them not getting infected, the more information healthcare workers and scientists can get about proper treatment courses and possible new medications. And if we go long enough (over a year) without getting infected, we might be able to be vaccinated.

In addition to the nasty pictures I paint for them over the phone if they don’t properly isolate themselves, I have also tried to exploit the older generation’s defensiveness. With a relish that was all part of the act, I told them that there was an alternate name for the disease floating around online, “The Boomer Remover.”

The other term I’d heard, The Boomer Doomer, I refrained from telling them about. My reasoning was this: while The Boomer Doomer is flippant and insensitive, the word “doom” is still scary. So, the phrase “Boomer Doomer” admits some of the disease’s weight and suggests a small amount of seriousness in the mentality of millennial-and-younger generations. That wasn’t good enough.

No, The Boomer Remover was the one I told them about because in addition to being disrespectful, it is downright adversarial. “The Boomer Remover” sounds like a cleaning product. It casts the virus as part of the young’s artillery in the culture war. And it casts the boomer generation as vermin. The name brings to mind fears that older generations must all share since the beginning of time: you will soon be gone, and your absence will be celebrated. Maybe, I thought, their defensive attitudes could be redirected to something more constructive, like making the effort to keep themselves healthy.

It seemed to do the trick. They were more conscious of avoiding exposure to infection after I said it. I don’t know if they really were persuaded by The Boomer Remover—it’s possible that they just got more information from the news around the same time—but they did cut out more unnecessary trips, which relieved me. Not down to zero, but fewer than before. I still don’t accept the unnecessary trips they take, though, and I spare no opportunity to remind them of that.

Coping, Sub-Optimally

I am lucky in my personal situation. To some extent, I can work from home. I have joined the legions of Zoom users. Keeping rigidly to a telework schedule, I have made sure that my sleep schedule hasn’t changed by more than a half hour, and I still look forward to the weekend, even though I don’t go anywhere Saturday or Sunday. The library is closed, and most of my attendees don’t have the Internet, so I can’t run my book club. I can exercise, but after hearing my downstairs neighbors furiously pound on their ceiling during one of my workouts, I’ve had to figure out how to do silent cardio so I don’t have to run through the neighborhood every other day.

One thing that I’m experiencing seems to be something that a lot of others are, too: an unfortunate confrontation with my previous excuse-making. If I had an hour extra in the day, I used to say, I would cultivate a new skill and get really good at it.

After a reliable isolation routine had been set here in my apartment, I found that I did have an extra hour each day, since I didn’t have to commute. I could wake up a half hour later because I didn’t have to drive to work, and when I stopped working for the day, all I had to do was sign out. I could still exercise, still make dinner, and still unwind before bed, so my post-work day was similar, but I gained one more hour I could use as I pleased. What have I done with it?

I am not a gamer. After about six years of not playing any games at all, I bought myself a Nintendo Switch and the newest Zelda game when I graduated in 2018 as a self-gift. I played Zelda over eighteen months. It’s a long game, but the average time you’d have to spend per day to finish the game with only moderate quest completion over that many months is low.

Playing Zelda was like a being able to eat a filling meal whenever I happened to crave it. In-game, I found the environment to be so pleasant that when people in real life asked me if I’d done any hiking lately, I’d almost respond, “Well, no, but I have done a fair bit of hiking and mountain climbing in Zelda.” If I went a couple of weeks without playing, it would take only a minute or two to remember what I’d been doing when I turned it on again. Overall, it might be the best game I have ever played. And it seems like it would be the perfect game for these times, if I were playing it anew.

But lately, the game-playing I’ve been doing over the past few weeks shows a much different mindset—one I haven’t really experienced since I was an undergrad student.

When I was in college, the adjustment to living away from home took a long time, and as a result, freshman year was sort of a wash. I didn’t do well in my classes, my suitemates were all upperclassmen I couldn’t really relate to, and it was hard to make friends in the huge introductory lectures with no assigned seating. I spent nearly the whole year playing video games in my room every evening, ordering pizza after pizza after pizza.

The game I remember playing most was a first-person shooter called Quake 2. I had tried the original Quake when it came out in 1996, but at that time it was too graphics-intensive for the family computer to run. Now, though, Quake 2 was the cooler-looking game, and my new laptop could have run either one easily, so I got Quake 2.

If I could sum up the highlight of freshman year, 2003, it would be: It is 10 PM. It is Friday night. There is a pizza on my desk, only two slices eaten so far. There is me, twenty-five pounds heavier than I am now. I am listening to Zwan, the short-lived Smashing Pumpkins-led supergroup. Quake 2 is blasting on my laptop. Somewhere far away, my future wife shivers for seemingly no reason.

After freshman year, I made a bunch of friends, and some of them became my closest friends, and from that happy vantage point, freshman year looked even more bleak. I resolved that I wouldn’t play Quake 2 ever again. In fact, I decided that from then on, I would think of the intense urge to game, especially first-person shooter games, as a kind of emotional canary in the coal mine.

But now in 2020, stuck in the relative comfort of my nice apartment and isolated from my family, and with the extra time that isolation was granting me, I started looking online for a new game to play.

My computer is fine but is also nothing impressive, processor-wise, so I can’t run a modern game on it. I felt too intimidated to play one anyway, having been out of the loop for so long. So, I searched for “retro FPS games,” and found a game called Dusk. Dusk, the game’s description said, was made in 2018, but was “meant to look like a shooter from 1996.”

I bought it and did nothing else outside of work except eat, squeeze in workouts, and play the game. It only took four evenings, but I finished it. And after that, the gaming urge from freshman year was fully back.

Similar circumstances, similar results. If I didn’t dig up Quake 2, it was only out of a pitiful sense of pride; re-downloading it would mean that symbolically, I hadn’t changed at all since freshman year. So instead, I bought Quake 1, and I’ve been playing that ever since I finished Dusk.

It turns out that since 1996, there has been an online Quake 1 fan community that regularly cranks out game modifications, so there are literally thousands of user-made levels to play in addition to the original game. And the mod levels are all free, as long as you’ve paid for the original game, which costs only five dollars. As a result, nearly every night after work, exercise, and dinner, I turn on a 24-year-old video game (with a fan-made mod that sleekens those chunky graphics up a little bit) and play it until bedtime.

First, I played through the game at normal difficulty, saving after every tough set of enemies (this practice is called “save scumming,” and is frowned upon in the Quake community). Not wanting to be bogus, after I finished it that way, I immediately started replaying the game, this time on Hard difficulty and only saving one time per level. I haven’t made it through the entire game again this way yet, but I’ve also played a bunch of fan-made levels to see what the tinkerers have come up with in the last couple of decades.

Have you ever been so completely uninterested while listening to someone explain their hobby to you that you felt a little bit guilty, but you also felt bad for the person, for being so lame? That’s how I feel right now, re-reading what I’ve just written. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t one of those I-am-quitting-my-addiction-through-the-healing-power-of-writing entries—in fact, I stopped writing this several times to play Quake, even looking up strategy videos on YouTube when I got stuck—but I acknowledge that this is not a good use of my time.

Right now, I could finally be getting those guitar skill fundamentals I’ve always wanted. I could be (getting closer to) finishing all songs I’ve written, or writing new ones. I could be working on an actual short story, or a novel, or something, to point to as a positive thing that came out of this whole crisis, and yet, all of those roads end up in the same place: worry town.

In another way, my laser-focus on playing a game like Quake makes perfect sense. It is similar to a game I already know how to play—it’s not one of the new shooters my computer couldn’t run and I probably couldn’t understand. And it lacks any need for deep thinking. Your goal in Quake is to get to the other end of the level, and if you could try to kill everything you see on your way there, that would be cool too.

If I were playing Zelda, I’d be all the way inside my head thinking about my family as my character’s horse galloped past waterfalls, sunsets, and windblown grassy fields. But in Quake, I don’t have to keep track of my inventory, my life meter, my resources, experience points, magic spells, stamina, side-quests—anything. If I’m still shooting and moving, I can still win. There’s no time for my mind to wander because there are monsters around every corner. And at the end of the level, nothing needs to be committed to memory.

Is it weird that I can’t remember anything about the actual game Quake 2, which I spent months playing as a freshman, except for how it felt to play it? Well, that, and the sparse game dialogue: some enemies would call you “trespasser” or “intruder” just before they tried to stab or shoot you, and there’s a level about midway into the game where you make your way through an elaborate torture factory and you see your comrades all being sawed to pieces, but the only thing they cry out is “It hurts,” “Let me out,” “Make it stop,” or “Kill me now.”

The time I spent playing Quake 2 and the time I’m now spending playing Quake 1 almost seem like one of those cheesy explanations of wormholes you see in science fiction movies. What’s the shortest way between these two points on this piece of paper? someone asks. A straight line, someone answers, and the person who asked the question shakes their head and folds the paper so the two points meet.

*

Life at thirty-five still feels young—I don’t have that fear of replacement yet. But I do have a new awareness of how dangerous it is to get stuck in a rut. Talking with my family over the phone in the past few weeks, I said that I was afraid that I had become “complacent enough that I could wake up one day and realize that I’m forty-five, with nothing new to show for it.” There are plenty of things I know I’m now too old for, ways of acting, ways of dressing. And my life so far is starting to have a true feeling of accumulation to it. Thinking back on it is like looking down a mountain hiking trail, with confusing turns, switchbacks, and even blind offshoots. Some of it is obscured by the trees, lost from memory. It all seems impressively far. Looking forward again, the mountaintop is still in the distance, but now it looms.

In between the previous paragraph and the one before it, I found out that my high school film teacher, Mr. Truitt, passed away. I had mentioned him in my entry about starting a book club, and in it I’d said that I’d modeled my method of discussion on the one from his film class. I now seriously regret that after all of this time since high school, I never used the very small amount of time it would have taken to tell him how much his class and influence meant to me. And, it is an embarrassing kind of regret—an obnoxious feeling, having taken him so much for granted. I’d always meant to contact him some day, but ordinary life took the foreground, and if I spent twenty minutes thinking of what I would write in a letter to him, I’d forget about it twenty minutes after that.

Just as indecent is my poring over his obituary with the obvious question on my mind that anyone has about any death in the past two months.

If something can be drawn from this entry, I hope it would be this: don’t forget to let people know how much you appreciate them. Life is long, but it never feels long enough. And the absoluteness of death is one of the scariest things about it.

[humansunshineao3]

Magnus Gets The Flu

When he had magic, Magnus was impervious to all human illnesses. He's never been sick a day in his 4 centuries of life... Until now.

Read on AO3 here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alec should’ve been used to sudden wake-up calls, having grown up as a shadowhunter, but he’d been spoiled in the last few months since he’d started living with Magnus. He was awoken gently, these days, with kisses and warm, strong arms around him.

Not today.

Today, he was awoken by urgent shaking, and a yelp of his name.

“Huh?!” Alec grunted, sitting up with his eyes half open. “Wha’? Wha’ issi?” He slurred, trying his hardest to open his eyes.

“I’ve been poisoned!” Magnus hissed, right before his body was wracked with a cough.

Alec squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing them hard to coax them open. “What? When?!”

“I don’t know, but my throat is burning and I-” Magnus coughed again, the sound raw and dry.

“Lemme get you some water.” Alec rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, grabbing his glass from the nightstand as he went. “Here.” He said, rushing back in with a half-full glass.

Magnus downed the water and paused, blinking up at Alec. “Huh.”

“What?”

“The burning’s gone.” Magnus swallowed hard, his nose wrinkling. “Sort of.” He coughed again, and his eyes widened. “It’s back!”

Alec frowned, scratching his hand through his hair. “Magnus… It sounds like you just have a cough.”

“A cough?!” Magnus repeated. “Alexander, I am 400 years old, I know when I’m dying.”

“Oh, you’ve died before?” Alec snarked back, and Magnus scowled. “Babe, you don’t have a magical immune system anymore. You probably picked up a virus on the subway.”

Magnus coughed again, three times in succession, his hands covering his mouth. “No, no, no mundane could survive this, it must be some kind of… Disease. Like… Throat disease.”

He did sound a bit croaky, and Alec couldn’t help but find it cute. “Well, lucky for you, I know how to cure this particular throat disease.”

Once Alec had made Magnus some hot water with honey in it, he seemed to realise that it really was just a common cold that he’d been infected with. He was staring down at the surface of the table, his eyes narrowed.

“So mundanes… Feel this crappy… And just…? Get on with it?” Magnus said after a few moments, looking up at Alec with something like horror on his face.

Alec smiled, propping his head up on his hand. “Well, men tend to be more dramatic about it, so don’t feel too bad.”

“This feels terrible. My head… It’s like the time I let Lord Byron talk me into doing cocaine and opium as a double whammy.”

“Yeah, sounds about right,” Alec agreed, pushing Magnus’ floppy hair out of his face. “You still look cute as ever, though.”

“Well of course I do,” Magnus sniffed, reaching for a tissue to cough into. “I’m Magnus Bane.”

Two days later, and Magnus didn’t look so cute anymore.

He’d holed himself up in bed with a space heater on one side of the room and a fan on the other, and Alec had dragged the TV in to keep him occupied when he got too sick to continue his translation work. He hadn’t had the will to drag himself into the shower, his nose was all dry and red from all the tissues, and he was always tacky with sweat. He was anxious and worked up from feeling so lousy, too. New experiences made Magnus a little nervous after such a long life, and having the flu was definitely new to him. Luke had bought Magnus an Alexa last Christmas, guessing it would make adjusting to life without magic a little easier. At the time, Magnus had turned his nose up at it, but it was coming in handy now.

“Alexa, turn on the fan,” Magnus croaked, kicking off the blankets. He turned his face towards the cool air as it started to blow over the bed, and shuffled to sit up.

He didn’t remember falling asleep. The last thing he remembered was Alec running his hands through his hair, though, so he supposed it made sense. He squinted at the clock on the wall, balking when he saw it was 3pm. A grown man should not be napping in the middle of the afternoon, he told himself, swinging his socked feet over the edge of the bed and fighting down the nausea that came from moving too fast.

“Urghh…” He grumbled, shivering now. “Alexa,” Magnus moaned, snatching up a blanket, “turn off the fan.”

Alec wasn’t here now, and that was a problem. He’d promised Magnus that he’d be here to look after him, and while Magnus wasn’t usually (openly) clingy, he didn’t want to be left alone while he was practically dying. Luckily for him, he didn’t have to look too far for Alec. He heard quiet humming coming from the kitchen when he padded out into the living room, clutching the blanket tighter around himself as he followed the sound.

“Oh, no,” Magnus whispered as he neared the kitchen. He couldn’t smell much with his stuffy nose, but he could just make out the edge of… Paprika?

Alec was cooking.

“Oh, you’re up!” Alec grinned, stirring a large pot that sat on the stove. “I called my Mom while you were sleeping to get the recipe for her Mom’s secret recipe spicy soup.”

“Oh… Another… Another one of your Grandma’s recipes.” Magnus said, hoping that his throatiness would hide his dread.

Alec shrugged one shoulder. “She used to make this for me when I was sick as a kid. It’ll clear your head and your nose, I promise.”

“Wonderful,” Magnus offered, walking a little closer. His stomach turned over at the memory of Alec’s last sojourn in the kitchen, and he pressed his lips together. “Is it done?”

“Not yet,” Alex answered, putting his free arm around Magnus’ waist. “It needs to simmer for an hour.”

“So you can come back to bed?” Magnus asked hopefully, leaning into Alec’s warmth.

Alec smiled, tapping the wooden spoon on the edge of the pot before setting it down. “Yes, I can come back to bed.”

Magnus hummed at the news, taking Alec’s hand and pulling him back towards the bedroom. “You’re sure you can’t get sick now, right?” He checked, letting go of Alec’s hand to climb back under the covers, tugging them up to his chin.

“One hundred percent sure,” Alec promised. “I’m using iratzes every six hours to get rid of any bugs that find their way into my system. So I can cuddle and kiss you as much as you’ll let me.”

“Mmmm… Good. Come here,” Magnus ordered, immediately wriggling his cold toes between Alec’s calves when he got close enough.

“Yes, boss,” Alec murmured fondly, shuffling across the bed until he was flush against his boyfriend. “Anything for you.”

Magnus smiled a little, kissing Alec gently on the lips. “I feel like shit,” he whispered, like it was a secret, and it made Alec laugh.

“Really? I never would’ve guessed.”

“I probably stink.”

“Mmmm… I mean, I wasn’t gonna say it.”

Magnus grumbled, but Alec kissed him on the forehead between soft chuckles. “Mean.”

“If it bothered me that much, I wouldn’t be here nuzzling into your neck, now would I?” Alec pointed out, his face pressing into Magnus’ skin as he spoke.

“True,” Magnus allowed. “How much longer?”

“About five days.”

Magnus groaned, his lower lip fattening up. Alec cooed at him. “I don’t like it.”

“I know, baby. You’ll be back to your debonair, larger than life self before you know it.” Alec assured him, “but look at it this way. You get me all to yourself for a whole week, no late nights, no emergencies. Just you and me.”

After a moment’s consideration, Magnus sighed happily, squeezing Alec a little tighter. “That is something. How did you pull it off, anyway?”

“Left Izzy in charge. I was due holiday time,” Alec shrugged, “and besides, when have the Clave ever been able to keep me away from you, hmm?”

“I love you so much,” Magnus said quietly, looking up at Alec through his eyelashes, “but I really, really don’t wanna eat that soup.”

Alec pouted. “But it’s good!”

Magnus grimaced. “Alexander, I adore you, more than life itself, but you also thought that trainwreck of a recipe that you tried to feed your mother tasted good.”

“This one really does taste good,” Alec tried, “I checked with Mom.”

“Oh…” Magnus wrinkled his nose. “Fuck. Okay, I can’t say no to you.” He went to sit up, and Alec made a noise of protest.

“Where you going?”

“To write my will, just in case your cooking kills me,” Magnus explained, and Alec growled, a grin growing across his face as he snatched up a pillow and hit Magnus in the face with it. “Hey! I’m sick, you can’t start a pillow fight.”

Alec sniffed. “I think you’ll find you started it.”

Magnus hummed, the croak in his voice breaking it in the middle, “fine.” He wrenched up a pillow and pushed it into Alec’s face. “I’m sorry for insulting your terrible cooking.”

Alec laughed, catching Magnus around the waist and turning them over so he was leaning over his boyfriend. “I love you.”

“Mmmm, I love you too,” Magnus returned, raking his fingers through Alec’s hair. “Thank you for looking after me the past couple of days, you’ve had the patience of a saint.”

“I did snap at you that one time,” Alec mumbled like he was ashamed of it, swallowing hard.

“I was being annoying.”

“Well…”

Magnus chuckled. “Alexander, I made you move the TV six times because I wasn’t comfy.”

“Yeah, alright, that was super annoying,” Alec admitted, his hands stroking up and down Magnus’ sides. “But you’re having a crisis, so I forgive you.”

“I wouldn’t call it a crisis…”

“Babe, you thought you’d been poisoned,” Alec chuckled, eyes warm with fondness as they met Magnus’.

“I’m melodramatic by nature, I was open about this from the beginning,” Magnus pointed out with a grin, “and if I remember rightly, it drew you in like a moth to a flame.”

Alec hummed. “That wasn’t what attracted me to you.”

“Oh?”

“Honestly? The fact that you overlooked Jace for me got me kinda hot.” Alec admitted wryly, and Magnus laughed so hard it launched him into a coughing fit. “Sorry,” Alec smiled, helping Magnus sit up.

“That was what did it for you? Not my clever line about Michelangelo?” Magnus asked once his coughing stopped long enough for him to catch his breath.

Alec shrugged one shoulder. “That one just made me feel inadequate. But then you winked at me and I was back in the game, so…”

“Can’t beat a good wink,” Magnus agreed, shifting around to get more comfortable.

“What was it about me?” Alec asked. He’d always been curious as to why Magnus tried so hard with him that night.

Magnus smiled, nostalgia warming his heart. “The elation mixed with panic on your face when I turned to look at you. It was just about the cutest thing I’d ever seen in my life. I never in a million years seriously thought anything was going to come of it, maybe a quickie in my office, if I was lucky. But then…”

“Then?” Alec prompted, eager to hear the rest.

“Then you showed up for Luke. Trusted me with your energy. And, I don’t know, when you held me after I healed him… I hadn’t been handled that gently since…” Magnus’ gaze was distant, his head shaking a little. “I couldn’t remember the last time.”

Alec squeezed him just as gently as he had that night, his lips brushing Magnus’ temple. “I love you so much, Magnus.”

Magnus sniffed, leaning into Alec’s hold. “I love you too, Alexander.”

“Wanna watch Bake Off?”

Magnus closed his eyes. “I really, REALLY love you.”

“And then soup.” Alec amended, reaching for the remote, and Magnus wrinkled his nose.

Annoyingly, the soup turned out to be delicious, and Alec never, ever shut up about it for the rest of their long, ever-young lives.

[that-writer-who-never-posts]

Family.

Hello! This is one of the most special things I ever wrote. Not only because it’s emotional, but also because it was requested by one of the sweetest people this blog gave me the pleasure to meet! I hope this was what you wanted, @purplerain85 ! Thank you for trusting me with this one!

Prompt: You’re a single mom to a little girl and Tom absolutely falls in love with both of you and wants to start a family.

Warnings: Besides wanting to have babies with Tom, none.

Ps: I know what you’re thinking. “Maria, are you going to give the exact same names to the children on every story??” Yes, I will. Fight me.

like 3.5k words. 

---

         You were sitting on a restaurant with your 3 year-old daughter in front of you. You started to notice she kept looking at the table behind you and giggling.          "Elena, leave the people alone." You tell her.

          She looks at her food for a moment. Then she grabs a friench fry and lifts her little arm to show the stranger.

          "Stop that." You laugh and turn around to see if there is another child behind you.

          But it wasn't a child. It was a tall and extremely handsome man. You thought he looked familiar, then it hit you. It was Tom Hiddleston. You blushed so much.

          "Hi, I'm sorry, but she's adorable." He said politely.

           "It's okay, thanks." You smiled at him, but just wanted to run away from that place.

          "What's your name, princess?" He asks your daughter.

          "Elena." The little girl said proudly.

          "What a beautiful name." He reaches to shake her little hand.          "Mommy saw it on a history she told me." She tells him.

          "What story?" He acts fascinated.

          "Has looooong name." She says dramaticaly.

          "Midsummer night's dream" You get more embarrased every second.

          "Oh... Do you like Shakespeare?" You thought you saw him blushing now.

         "Yes, very much." You smile at him.

         "Oh, sorry, I'm Tom, by the way." He offers his hand to you now.

         "Y/N." You shake it.

         The conversation is interrupted by your daughter dropping a fork on the floor.

          "Elena! Be careful." You jump at the sound of it.

          "Was a pleasure to meet you, Elena." Tom says, picking the fork up and returning it to her. "And your mom too. But I better go now."

           "Pleasure." The little girl repeated and you both laughed at her.

                    After he left, you were completely speechless. Not only you saw an actor you admired but he was also very kind to you and your daughter. And well, any mom knows the best way to make them like you is to be nice to their children.

          You knew you probably wouldn't bump into Tom Hiddleston again, it doesn't simply happen like that, but you'd always remember that lunch.

         ---

         Three weeks passed since that day.

          There was a festival in town with Shakespeare's most famous plays, and that night would be your favorite: Midsummer night's dream. You left Elena at your mother's house and went to meet a friend in front of the theater, so you could watch it together.

          The play would start 8pm, at 7:40, after waiting there alone for half an hour, you decided to call your friend. You called twice with no answer. Shoving your phone into your purse, you sigh annoyed.

          "Y/N?" You hear someone call from behind.

          Just as you were about to start yelling at your friend for making you wait so long, you realize it wasn't your friend.

          "Tom?" You froze.

          "Hey, it's nice to see you." He smiles. "Is there something wrong?"

          "Yes... I invited a friend to watch the play with me, but looks like he's not coming." You shrug.

          "I'm so sorry." He says looking at you like you were insulted in front of him. "Well... I'm on my own too, maybe I could keep you company?"

          "Oh..." You were surprised. "Sure."

          He smiled and the two of you entered the theater. You knew he was just trying to be nice to you because of your friend and, even though his intentions were good, you hated that.

          When you sat down, you two started to talk about Shakespeare and ended up talking about art and literature in general, finding out you had a lot in commom. The conversation went pretty well, you talked like two old friends.          When the character Helena appeared for the first time, he gently touched your arm and whispered "That's your little girl". That made your heart melt. Not only he remembered your name, but he knew exactly who you were and what you told him 3 weeks ago.          When the play was over, he seemed a little tense.

          "Where you planning on going out for dinner with your partner?" He asks.

          "No, I ate before coming." You reply. "But he's not my partner, just a friend."

          "I see." He looks at his feet.

          "This wasn't supposed to be a date, you don't have to feel sorry for me." You joke.

          "I know this is none of my bussiness, sorry." He smiles at you. "Maybe we should go for a drink."

          "Why?" You ask feeling butterflies on your stomach, like a teenager.

          "I enjoyed your company." He shrugs. "I didn't want to say goodbye now."

          You look at him for a moment and felt he wouldn't do you any harm.

          "Okay, we can go but... I can't take too long." You reply before you can think twice and give up.

          "That's fine." He smiles widely.

         He took you to a pub very close to where you were. You sat there and talked like you did earlier, you had a lot of fun. But when you looked at your watch, it was almost midnight, you knew your mother had probably put Elena to bed already, but it didn't feel right to leave her like that.

          "Look... I'm sorry but I better get going." You tell him and see his smile fade.

          "I understand." He replied. "Can I have your phone number? In case destiny stops making us meet randomly."

           "Tom...I..." You sigh and just can't think of something to say.

          "It's okay if you don't want to." He smiles, but he looked hurt.

          "Look... There's nothing wrong with you, I actually liked you very much." You try to explain. "But I don't think I could ever think about dating someone right now. Since Elena's father left me, I decided I was going to take care of her and myself. And I wouldn't be telling you all this if it wasn't for the alcohol, would I?"

          You both laughed.

          "Maybe you could give me a chance." He suggests smiling. "I'm not saying we would be dating, just going out and having fun like tonight. I'd never want you to put yourself or Elena aside. Also... She seemed to like me. I could be her friend too."

          "Pretty convincing, Thomas." You roll your eyes and write down your number on a napkin.          ---          The time passed and you started to see each other on every opportunity you had. Sometimes, it would be just you and him, sometimes Elena would join you. She really liked him.

          But it took you four months to finally admit you two were a couple.

           It was on the same day your first kiss happened.

          You had to run to the hospital with Elena, because she had a fever in the middle of the night and wouldn't stop crying, thanks to an unbearable earache. The problem was that your car wouldn't work.

          You didn't had time to think, and the first person you thought who could help you was Tom.

          Not even half an hour after your call, you were entering the hospital with Elena in your arms and Tom by your side.

          While the doctor was seeing her, you felt your heart heavy. You just wanted her pain to go away. Maybe you were visibly nervous, so Tom brought you to his chest on a tight hug, telling you she would be okay.

          The feeling of being in his arms like that not only made you feel calmer, but it made you feel complete. What other man would get up 2am to take someone else's daughter to the hospital?

          Thankfully, it was nothing serious. She just had an ear infection that could be cured  with some antibiotics for a week. The doctor also gave you a medicine to relieve her pain.          You opened the door of your house and Tom entered, carrying Elena's sleepy body. You lead him to her room and he placed her in bed gently, covering her and placing her favorite teddy bear beside her.

           You couldn't help but smile. That was one of the most beautiful scenes you had ever seen.          Right after that, you made him a cup of tea and you sat at the living room in silence for a while.

          "Thank you so much, Tom." You finally break the silence. "If it wasn't for you, I don't know what I would have done."

          "It was nothing." He smiled. "You can call me for whatever you need, okay?"

          "You don't have to do anything for us." You say looking at the floor.

          "I know." He says placing two fingers under your chin, lifting your head so you would look at him. "You don't need anyone to take care of you, you are the strongest person I've met. But I want to help you. I want to be part of this beautiful family."

          You nodded and started to get closer to him, keeping your eyes locked on his, until you were close enough to feel his breath on your lips. It was a quick kiss. But it meant you trusted him and said it better than your words could.           ---           Your relationship with Tom developed really well. You two took your time to appreciate every step of it, and you could say you had never been so happy in your life.

          A year and a half since your first kiss, Tom asked you to move in with him. At first, you wondered if it wasn't too early. But Elena started to beg you to do it. Later, you found out Tom promised her a puppy if she convinced you. You got mad at him for manipulating your daughter, so you said no. He apologized and that became a funny story between you, so you finally said yes.          But it just wasn't enough for him. Everyone already saw the three of you as a happy family, but he wanted it to be official. So one day, after he picked Elena up from school, he took her to eat ice cream.

          "I'm gonna need your help. To ask your mom something." He confesses to her.

          "What if mommy gets angry again?" She asked with the face covered in chocolate ice cream.

          "It will be different now." He smiles and helps her to clean up. "I wanted to ask her to marry me."

          "Like a princess!" Her little eyes were shining. "Then you will live happily ever after!"

           He smiled, being thankful for reading all those fairy tails to her over and over again.

          "Tom..." The little girl got serious suddently. "Do you remember my birthday party?"

          He nodded heartbroken. When she turned five, you and Tom threw a little party for her. Everything went pretty well, until it was over and you were putting her to bed. She started to cry, because the other kids pointed out she didn't have a father. Tom didn't know what to do, so he told her even though he wasn't her father, he loved her just like he was. It seemed to work, because she never talked about that subject again.          "If you marry my mom..." She thought for a little while. "Will you become my dad?"

          He froze.

           "Listen..." He tried to choose his words carefully. "If you want me to, I can. I'll take care of you and..."

          He was interrupted by her jumping on his lap to give him a hug.

          "I'll help you, Tom."          ---          "Remember, you can't tell your mom anything." He sat down reminding Elena of what they had been planning for weeks.

          The little girl nodded and they waited for you to come home to start.

          You opened the door and found them sitting quietly on the sofa. Tom's heart was beating so fast.

          "What is going on?" You look at them suspiciously.

          "Nothing." They reply at the same time.

          You don't believe them. Those two are never that quiet. But you decide to wait til the truth appears on it's own.

           "Alright... Come on, Elena, it's time for your shower." You call her and she comes quickly, which doesn't happen often.

          "Can we go to my bedroom when I finish my shower, mommy?" The little girl looks at Tom, then at you. "I wanted to talk to you."

          "Okay..." You agree, taking her to the bathroom. "Actually, I have to talk to you too."

          Their plan was simple: Elena would distract you on her bedroom while Tom would set a romantic dinner for the two of you in the kitchen. The diamond ring your daughter helped him choose was already in his pocket.

          As promised, you went with her to her bedroom and sat beside her.          "I just wanted to say that... Hmm" She didn't really think of something to say while they were planning all this. "That you are the best mommy in the world and I'm happy we live with Tom now. He lets me eat ice cream before lunch sometimes, even if it makes him very sad."

          "See??" You hold back your laughter. "You can't eat ice cream before lunch, unless you want Tom to be sad..."

          "I don't want him to ever be sad!" She panicked a little.

          "Then think about it, next time." You tell her, not really being able to be mad at her right now. "But listen... I have something really important to tell you right now, okay?"

          The little girl nodded and sat closer to listen.

          "I'm glad to hear you like Tom so much." You smile at her, but you're a bit nervous. "You know I love him. And we love each other so much that... Well... I received a present? Hm... Tom... I mean, life gave me... Oh, Elena. You're going to have a little brother or sister."

          At first she sat there trying to understand the confusion you made. But when she realized, she jumped on you for a big hug.

          "I LOVE IT, MOMMY! YOU REALLY ARE THE BEST!" She screamed excitedly.

          "Shhh..." You laughed at her, relieved she liked the news. "Tom doesn't know it yet. Would you like to help me to tell him?"

          "Tell me what?" Tom appears to finally call you for dinner.

          "Not now!" Elena looked at him. "He has a surprise for you, but I have to wait here."

          "Thank you, little one." He smiles.

           "But you told me I could watch cartoons on your phone while you..." She reminds him and he quickly hands her his phone before she says too much.          You look at them confused. So that's why they were quiet when you arrived... They are hiding something.

          "Come with me." He leads you towards the kitchen, closing Elena's bedroom door.

          "Tom... I already told you we shouldn't do things we wouldn't like her to catch us doing while she's at home... Or awake, at least." You moan.

          "It's nothing much, darling." He smiles. "I just wanted to do something special for you."

          You enter the kitchen to find it decorated with flowers, candles and a small table with your favorite meal on it and a bottle of wine.

          "Wow... This is so beautiful..." You turn around to kiss him.

          "You are beautiful." He strokes your face. "You deserved a lot more, but I think that simple is more special."

          He started to overthink. What if it was too simple? You deserved so much more. Of course you would say no. He should throw all this away and take you out. To the most fancy restaurant in the world. Close an entire country just for you.

          "No, this is perfect." You worry at how nervous he is. "But are you okay? You're sweating. And your hands are shaking, love..."

          "I'm fine. I just..." He runs his hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. "Y/N... I am just nervous because I have the most amazing woman in the entire world right in front of me and... What could I ever give you to pay for everything you've given me? You not only gave me the best moments of my life, being always by my side when I needed, always putting a smile on my face and happiness in my heart, but you also let me love and protect your beautiful little girl like she was mine too. And I want us to be a family like we both always dreamt to have, so that's why I ask you, Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?"

          He got down on one knee and showed you the most beautiful ring to ever exist.

          "Yes!" You covered your face full of tears with your right hand, while he placed the ring on your left hand.

          "Thank you." He hugged you, then you kissed a few times. "Should we celebrate now?"

          He was about to pick up the bottle of wine, when you stopped him.          "Wait." You say, feeling that all the anxiety he had before was now all over you. "I can't drink today."

          "Oh... I know we're in the middle of the week, love." He smiles. "But it's a special day, don't you think?"

          "Yes, babe. That's not what I meant." You knew there was only one person who could help you at that moment. "Look... I'm sorry to ruin everything, I know it should be a special night for the two of us... And the two of us only, but... Can I call Elena here just for one moment?"

          "Of course, darling." He says confused.          "Elena?" You knock on her door.

           "DID YOU SAY YES?" She opens quickly.

          "Wait..." You connect the dots. "So you already knew all this? You helped him?"

          She nodded and laughed.

          "Oh! Great!" You smile at her little laugh. "So now you have to help me too."          You and your daughter arrived at the kitchen to find a worried Tom sitting there.

          "If you went to ask her if it was okay, she already knew it. She helped me, actually..." He tried to explain himself.

          "No, it's not that, Tom" You tried to calm him down. "We just have news for you."

          "You're going to be a daddy!" Elena announced throwing her arms into the air.

          "What?" He asked, thinking it still had to do with him becoming her father after he married you.

          "Tom... I'm pregnant." You confirm.

          He looks at both of you smiling like a fool and gets up to hug you so tightly, lifting you from the floor.

          "This is the best night of my life." He says covering you with kisses. "This is amazing, I'm so happy right now."

          He looks down to hug Elena too, but she isn't there anymore. You both look around and find her in the living room, sitting on the floor with a toy in her hands, but not really playing with it.

          Tom gives you a worried look.

          "I don't know what is happening." You look at him. "You saw how happy she was a minute ago."

          "I'll talk to her." He offers and you nod.

          He gives your belly a quick kiss, then walk into the living room, sitting on the floor, beside her.

          "Hello." He smiles at her. "Is there a sad princess in this house? We don't want that, do we?"

          "Tom..." She says without taking her eyes off her toy. "Now you're going to have your own baby. You won't need me anymore."

          "That's not true." He says heartbroken. "You arrived first in my heart. And I'm going to love my baby very much, but not a little bit more than I love you. You're my baby too, even if a piece of paper says I'm not your father."

          "Tom!" She says dramatically. "I'm not a baby anymore, I'm already five."

          "Oh, that's true." He apologizes. "You're the big sister now."          ---          A few months after that, you gave birth to another girl. You thought Elena would be jealous, more of Tom that of you. But she wasn't, she loved her little sister and wanted to help you take care of her.

          They were growing up and getting closer to each other every minute.          Until one day it happened. You knew it would happen eventually. You knew Tom always wanted that, but never asked, because he was afraid you wouldn't like it. But it really melted your heart.

           "Dad! Can we go to the park later?" Your youngest asked Tom.

          "Please, dad!" Elena accidently coppied her sister. "I mean... Tom!"

          Your heart almost stopped. Tom looked at you with the biggest smile you had ever seen.

          "Dad is fine, Elena. I like it." He told her gently, afraid she wouldn't do it again.

          "Thank you, dad." She ran to hug him.

          "Alright." He tried his best not to cry. "Now I'm going to take my two beautiful daughters to the park."

          You smiled at that scene. You knew that, from now, Elena would get anything she wanted by calling him "dad". But could you blame him? It was so good to hear.

---

Taglist:

@spidey-holland7

@theoneanna

@inlovewith3

[sprydecreates]

endgame

requested: nope

warnings: drinking, heartbreak, extreme self doubt, language

pairings: calum hood x reader

type: angst ; actual body writing (my rat brain doesn’t know what to officially call it) ; 1.9k words ; gender neutral 

summary: rejecting calum wasn’t planned, or wanted. was it for the best?

a/n: hi! i felt like breaking hearts on this good day. was looking for a header earlier, and seen lyrics from halsey’s ‘sorry’ and thought it’d be a wonderful song to write about in a sense.

also gonna try and actually write, not just a hc list this time. hope it’s good! didn’t necessarily proof read it out of fear of hating it so sorry if there are any misspellings or anything.

let me know how you feel about it!

it’d been a couple of months since you moved to california, and things were going pretty nicely. you got back into college, and were excelling. your job was sable, and rather flexible with your schedule and requests for time off. that was great, considering calum was finally back from visiting his family australia.

you had met calum while moving in, considering your apartment was in the same complex as ashton’s (where he was heading). he and ashton helped you move in, as you and a couple of friends who came along to help were struggling on the sidewalk with your hand-me-down couch.

the next day, calum came knocking at your door to see if you were settled alright. you were in the middle of unpacking dishes, and he asked if he could help you. you agreed, cause, why not have a cute australian boy help you move in? he just never left after that; even though he told ashton he’d get to his place soon.

the days have went on, and as cliche as it sounds, you both bonded and eventually had designated cups at each others houses (his is a meme mug that you bought that says “happiness is friends fishing together”, yours is a game of thrones cup with a sword as the handle), matching blankets (that were picked up on a late night target run; his says “mrs” and yours says “mr”), and swapped a pillow each, so you’d be comfortable sleeping.

things were going pretty well, to say the least. only thing that scared you, was rejection. did you like calum? yes, a little too much, but you told yourself several times that it wasn’t love. since it’s convenient to find out about him online, you decided to see if you were his type. seems as though you weren’t, from the girls he was rumored to date at least.

considering this, you called your best friend from your hometown, and explained everything going on. their only advice, was that you needed to talk to calum; they couldn’t tell if calum liked you, or was just being friendly. feeling nervous and hesitant, you invited him over for the chat.

like most of the times when you have a crush, you sat and debated on whether or not you were up for heartbreak. you had never really felt heartbreak, because no one had ever returned your interest for a significant amount of time. so, you didn’t know how to proceed. do you risk telling calum, and getting nothing in return and live your life alone? do you tell him and get a healthy relationship that you’ve convinced yourself would never be endgame?

when calum finally arrived at your apartment, you had cried all you could thinking about every way he could reject you, or how it would end. at this point, you were happy you didn’t have to go through anything that could blindside you.

after catching up, calum brought up the idea of the party, “so, me ‘nd ash were thinking about having a get together with all our friends now that we’re back. to like, catch up with everyone. you wanna come?”

“who all will be there,” you questioned, setting your cup of koolaid down.

“the guys, their girls, some friends.”

“very extensive list, thank you calum,” you joked, raising your eyebrows to signal so. it was nice, feeling comfortable after hours of terror sweats.

he let out a breathy laugh, “sorry, i really only know for certain about eight people. maybe more, maybe like one less.” he sat his fishing cup down, and looked up for your reaction.

you shrugged, thinking more about ‘their girls’ and ‘friends’ and which one you were categorized as, “when?”

he noticed your expression change, “uh, i think this friday but i’ll have to make sure.”

you nodded, “okay, i should be free.”

there was a small silence before calum cleared his throat and stood up, “well i should uh, prolly get going. supposed to meet ‘shton in a bit for dinner.”

you stood up and followed him to the door, “alright, have fun?”

calum turned when you ended your sentence with a question, and shadowed the doorway, “you good?”

you nodded again, tempting yourself to blurt out your thoughts but your fear took you over, “yeah, why?”

“you just,” he looked down at the tips of his shoes, moving them in an anxious manner, “seem, different? i don’t know, like you seem like somethings on your mind.”

“oh, nah,” there was, “just a bit tired,” a lie.

calum nodded, and stepped outside, “alright. i’ll let you know when everything will be set up, okay?”

“alright.”

“call you this evening?”

you nodded one last time and watched him disappear down the hall after your confirmation. after shutting and locking your door, you texted your friend and told her you chickened out, but were going to try and speak to him after the party.

wonderful. two more days of restless thinking, unbelievable amounts of notes written in your phone, and hours of staring into space just thinking of what could go wrong. calum calling didn’t help, either. he sounded more sweet, and soft than usual. or did he always sound like that? did he know about you maybe liking him and was trying to find ways of letting you down easily and this was step one?

ugh. the thought of it all made you sick. literally. friday came around, and you really had made yourself sick with worry. you wanted to get it over with, though. combating sickness AND heartbreak at the same time? undefeated combination. that being said, you didn’t bail. instead, you just showed up in sweats and a beat up old shirt.

no one was really dressed up, which was good for confidence measures, but horrible in the sense that you didn’t scream “i have a cold please don’t get infected”.

calum, however, thought you looked cute. like in a fanfic where you have your hair in a messy bun have on an old shirt that’s baggy but somehow shows off your figure sweats built the same way and you’re about to be sold to 5sos to pay off your parents debt. not that he said all that in one sentence, though.

throughout the evening, you noticed calum getting closer and closer to you, practically sitting on your lap after an hour. you didn’t mind all too much, but it was still strange to experience after all you’ve thought about. he seemed a bit, distant, though. he didn’t speak directly to you like he usually did, no hand on your thigh to push himself up, didn’t laugh at the same joke luke told whenever he popped a cap off of a bottle. something just didn’t, feel good.

after feeling a little dry and all too conscious, you decided to go into the kitchen and take a few shots; seeing as ashton and calum had migrated in there a couple of minutes ago. but, right when you get to the archway, you faintly hear the end of ashton’s sentence, “gonna do?”

calum’s voice came in after his, “i guess i’m just gonna have to tell y/n.”

that’s it. he knows. your heart rate shot up in mere seconds, and the tears made your eyes swell. you quickly turned and headed towards the bathroom, locking yourself in to cry a little bit. you couldn’t believe for a split second that you REALLY thought you were gonna have something. how could you be so gullible? the signs were all there. he was suiting you up to drop you from cloud nine. all the late night calls talking about life made him sick of you and he decided you weren’t the one for him. after that he noticed how much you liked him via the matching things, and it made him sick of you. he was sick of you. Sick. Of. You, and everything that you are to him.

you decided this wasn’t a reunion get together, this was a ‘goodbye y/n’ party. that’s why everyone was exceptionally inviting to you, because they knew you weren’t going to be around much longer, and they wouldn’t have to put up with you after this. if that’s the case, why not go out in style: drunk and pitiful.

you came out of the bathroom after several minutes of breathing in through your nose to stop the tears, and regain your composure. you head straight to the kitchen, nod to calum, ashton, and now sierra before pouring and downing a shot without saying a word. ashton laughs and cheers you on, as he’s never seen you do this before and thought it was a wave of encouragement. calum knows somethings wrong, but he doesn’t want to out you in front of people you aren’t entirely close with.

unfortunately for him, he doesn’t get any alone time with you until you’re five shots and two mike’s hard lemonades in. in other words, you were comprehensive, but your filter was gone and your emotions were bold. calum puts his hand on your shoulder once everyone is out of the kitchen, and asks whats wrong, “i know somethings off with you, y/n. you’ve never drank like this before.”

“not. a. thaaang,” you gave finger guns to him and ‘blew out’ the tips of your fingers.

he halfway smiled, but quickly furrowed his eyebrows and gave a stern look, “i’m serious.”

you shrugged, “me too. you think i, me, am joking?” you pushed his hand off your shoulder and turned to get another shot, but calum stopped you.

“y/n,” he said with his hand on yours, preventing you from lifting the shot glass, “we don’t have to talk about it, but are you sure you’re alright?”

you stopped. his hand was on yours, and that’s how it needed to be. you were staring at your hands, and everything was clear for a minute. you sobered up enough to say, “i heard you.”

he lowered his head, both confused and hard of hearing, “what?”

tears started to form again, “i heard you and ‘shton.”

calum let out a solemn breath and removed his hand from yours, certain this was taking a turn for the worst, “when?”

your breathing had hitched as you tried to stop yourself from crying, “a few minutes ago.” before calum could speak, you began your subtle rant, “i get it. i know i’ve been clingy, and weird, and overbearing and ugly and everything else. i know you don’t like me calum. i’ve fucking known that from day one, and i’m sorry i’ve known it.”

you continued with nonsense babbling until you realized how long you had been talking. calmly, and with tear stained cheeks, you told him goodbye, and that you wished you could be friends.

as you left the apartment and party, calum was left stood in the spot that he would later refuse to go near. he had tears of his own streaming down his face. he recalled his and ashton’s conversation from earlier:

ashton: dude, you’re getting reaaally cozy with y/n.

calum: yeah, i know.

ashton: is there, something... there?

calum: i don’t really, like know? i like y/n so fucking much. borderline love, i guess.

ashton: jesus man. what are you gonna do?

calum: i guess i’m just gonna have to tell y/n.

all this time, calum was the exact opposite of what you kept imagining. he built up the courage to talk to you about his feelings that night. because after all, he thought you were his soulmate: beautiful, smart, humble, different and the same in a puzzle piece manner. he was sure you were his endgame.

so, now what?

[crazedlunatic]

New Kid

“So, uh… the new kid is Kurt.”

Blaine, who may or may not have been looking at Kurt’s facebook profile on his phone, looked up. “My Kurt? I mean… Lima Kurt?”

“Yes but I’m assuming you knew that.” David plopped on Blaine’s bed. “Did something happen?”

“I actually didn’t know that… but I do know that the closeted gay kid who threatened to kill Kurt was let back into the school so I’m not surprised.” Blaine frowned. “I wonder why he didn’t tell me?”

“I don’t know but I can’t imagine he’ll be driving back and forth every day of the week.” David quirked his eyebrow. “Maybe you can get--”

“No.” Blaine glared at him, pushing himself into a sitting position. “I’ve got—”

“Soccer practice. I know.” David said, tossing him his jersey. “But you know we’ve gotta show him around. You know how hard it was to start Dalton.”

“Yeah. I know.” Blaine pulled off his t-shirt and grabbed his jersey off of the bed, glaring when Wes walked in and whistled. “Stop it.”

“Sorry. I can’t help but be overcome with feelings. You’re turning into a man.”

“You’ve been saying that for two years and it’s getting a little creepy.” David told Wes.

“Blaine likes the attention.” Wes winked.

“I just threw up in my mouth.” Blaine pulled on his tennis shoes.

“Why don’t you just wear your soccer shoes down there? Isn’t it stupid to put those on only to switch in three minutes when you’re on the field?” David asked as Wes pulled his soccer jersey on as well.

“Yeah. Totally. Dalton’s okay with cleats scratching up the floors.” Blaine nodded eagerly, facial expression serious.

“Sometimes I miss when he was mopey and quiet.” David sighed.

“Guess you shouldn’t have made me take my medicine then, pal.” Blaine flashed a bright smile.

“C’mon, Blainers.” Wes whined, waving at David and then walking out of their room.

“Coming!” Blaine followed him and then added, “Not like that. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

…

“Hey, stranger.”

Kurt, who had been attempting to find the library without any luck, jumped but relaxed when he saw Blaine. At least he thought it was Blaine… but the hair was wet and curly… and he had on a jersey… and that really didn’t compute with the Blaine he’d now seen… five times? Six?

Had they really had coffee three times at the Lima Bean?

“You didn’t tell me you were starting here!” Blaine said.

“Yeah, sorry. I guess I’ve been busy.” Kurt said, trying to look anywhere but those curls because. Wow. Blaine had curly hair? Kurt could kind of tell when his hair was styled but his hair wasn’t styled and… wow. He’d never liked guys with curly hair but he guessed anything liked good on Blaine Anderson.

“No, it’s okay!” Blaine said cheerfully, waving at someone passing them.

“You play soccer?”

“Yeah and I’ve really got to get out of these shoes because I hate them but can’t walk in the building with the cleats on… and yeah. You should come with me so I can change and David, Wes, and I can give you a tour. It’s a big school but you’ll learn it pretty quick.” Blaine gave another bright smile.

Honestly, Kurt was beginning to think Blaine was the human version of a puppy. Big eyes, bright smile, always happy, talkative, and everyone loved him.

“If it wasn’t so close I would have showered in the locker rooms but I really… don’t like locker rooms.” Blaine said.

“Why not?”

“Uhm, the Sadie Hawkins thing… it was in the locker room and actually most of my soccer team, so…” Blaine shrugged. “Everyone here is great but I still don’t like being in them very much.”

“I’m sorry.” Kurt frowned.

Great. Just bring up bad things. Good job, Kurt.

“No, it’s fine.” Blaine led Kurt down two hallways and into a room with an open door.

“KURTSIE!” Wes exclaimed.

“I’ll be back.” Blaine said, grabbing a stack of clothes off the end of what Kurt presumed was his bed and then going into the bathroom.

“Hi, Kurt.” David, who was sitting on the other bed, waved. “Have you gotten a tour yet or anything? You can sit down!”

Wes, as if taking it as a cue, plopped down on Blaine’s bed. “I still want to know where he got this pillow.”

“He’s not going to tell you because if he doesn’t have the pillow as leverage, he thinks you won’t cuddle him.”

Kurt looked between the two of them, confused. “Oh! Are you and Blaine--?”

David clapped his hands gleefully, laughing.

“I find that offensive, David. I know I could do better but—” Wes was cut off by David.

“They aren’t together but Blaine is a… what does Mom call it? Cuddle bug?” David said.

“The correct phrase would be cuddle whore in Blaine’s case.” Wes said.

David gave Wes a look and then continued. “He kind of gravitates towards body heat… and doesn’t leave the body heat until he has to. I can’t tell you how many times I’ll wake up and he’s in my bed.”

“I know it must be hard to hear this, but I am actually straight. Sorry.” Wes said, a mock apologetic look on his face. “Thad, however… very gay. Nick and Jeff… totes gay together, 98% sure.”

“Thad is also very obsessed with Blaine who is the most oblivious person on earth.” David added. “Wait. Wes…. Did you just says ‘totes?’”

Kurt looked between David and Wes. They were literally having an entire conversation with Kurt like they’d known him for years. He wasn’t used to interactions like this seeing as most of his communication had been with Rachel Berry and a few other New Directions members… and that had been an awkward start. Somehow it wasn’t that awkward with David and Wes, though. Maybe because they were Blaine’s closest friends? He really hoped they weren’t being nice to him because of the bullying but that was a good possibility as well. It would be nice to have friends at Dalton.

“How long have you all been friends?” Kurt asked them.

“Well David and I became best friends when I moved to Westerville when I was eleven.” Wes said. “We adopted Blaine at the ripe young age of fourteen. By adopt, I really mean tolerated.”

“I think Blaine and I have known each other since we were four but we didn’t get closer to him until Wes did too at fourteen.” David nodded in agreement.

“Oh wow.” Kurt looked surprised. “So you guys are, like, best friends?”

“Yeah.” Wes nodded. “David actually is pretty much his neighbor.”

“It’s true but we all go to church together. Well, we went together… the three of us don’t actually go anymore.” David said. “I usually go on holidays, Wes never goes, and Blaine stays as far away as he can… which kills all of the little old ladies that fawn over him.”

Kurt laughed because with Blaine’s face, he knew it was probably true.

Because Blaine was adorable. The cheeks, the hazel eyes, the bright smile, his height. Just all of him, really.

“Little old ladies fawn over me?” Blaine came out in jeans and a short sleeved button down shirt.

“Church.” Wes said. “Your fanclub.”

“Oh yeah. They do love me. It’s the cheeks.” Blaine nodded, smiling brightly at Kurt. “Want to go on a tour?”

“That would actually be great.” Kurt looked between the three of them.

“David can lead since he is actually formally trained to do it.” Wes chirped.

“He really means I don’t get as distracted.” David said.

“No. He’s literally a watch dog. Head boy for seniors and juniors… perk is he knows when the checks take place.” Wes grinned. “He’s the little goody two shoes of the group.”

“AKA Percy Weasley.” Blaine added, earning a glare from David.

“I assume you’re staying here during the week?” David asked Kurt, ignoring Blaine’s sweet smile.

“Yeah but I’ll probably go home on the weekends.” Kurt nodded, following David out into the hall.

“Okay so junior and senior dorms are in this hall. Freshman and sophomore dorms are in the next one over from here.” David said. “They do random checks to make sure people are in by curfew though… which is typically 8:00 except on game nights. Usually junior checks are on Mondays but they do change it up from time to time or sometimes check twice in one week, so don’t get too comfortable staying out late.”

“I wouldn’t anyway.” Kurt said.

“Boring.” Wes, who was walking behind them, gave an over-dramatic sigh.

“You go to bed at eight on nights before tests, Wes. Don’t even.” Blaine scoffed, shooting him a look as a teacher came out.

“Shoot me.” Wes whispered as the woman came over.

“Wesley, David, my office please.”

David maintained a neutral expression but Wes got a very evident frown on his face.

“Ma’am, this it Kurt Hummel. He’s new.” Blaine said cheerfully.

The woman, who had seemed stern before, looked at Blaine and smiled. “Welcome to Dalton, Kurt.”

Wes, who had walked past the woman, turned and made a very obscene gesture with his middle finger clearly geared at Blaine.

“Thank you.” Kurt gave a nervous smile—he wasn’t sure if it was nerves nerves or him hoping the teacher couldn’t tell Wes had done something inappropriate by reading his facial expression.

“Blaine, you should be thankful you stayed after in French or you’d be in here too. I know you would have been right there with them.” The lady gave Blaine a look and then gestured for David and Wes to go into the room the teacher had come out of.

“So… what’s that about?”

“Impromptu Warbler performance in the gym on Friday… She’s right. I was supposed to be there but I didn’t do so great on a French test and had to beg for extra credit.” Blaine said.

“Should we wait?”

“Ha. No. She’ll call Thad in too since she’s got those two and it could be an hour. Apparently, she believes the headmaster has let us get away with too many impromptu performances.” Blaine shrugged. “I can show you around, though.”

“Okay.” Kurt gave him a nervous smile. “Will David and Wes care?”

“No.” Blaine shook his head and then yawned, covering his mouth.

“Late night?”

“No, not really. I had a sinus infection earlier this week and I think I’m still fighting it a bit.” Blaine shrugged.

“Do you need to lay down?” Kurt asked, concerned.

“No.” Blaine shook his head, walked into the library, and plopped in one of the big chairs. “You can tell me why you didn’t let me know you were transferring here, though.”

“I don’t know.” Kurt admitted, sitting in the seat next to him.

Honestly, he was glad for the break in the tour.  He already had forgotten how far they’d come from the dorms and everything was all starting to look the same.

“Honestly, I was trying to talk my dad out of sending me here. I wanted to come but they had to use their honeymoon money to cover the tuition…” Kurt frowned.

“Your dad and his girlfriend got married? She was really sweet at that football game.” Blaine smiled.

“Yeah. They did.” Kurt nodded and smiled. “It was really nice… I just wish they hadn’t given up their honeymoon… she thinks you’re sweet too, by the way.”

Blaine gave an adorable grin again and then bit his lip.

“I wanted to thank you again for coming to McKinley that day… and meeting me at the Lima Bean these past few times.” Kurt bit his own lip. “Sorry I didn’t say anything about coming here… I guess I’ve just been preoccupied.”

“I get it.” Blaine reassured him. “And there have been times I just haven’t wanted to talk to people. Sometimes talking is hard… especially when you’re going through stuff.”

“Yeah.” Kurt nodded, making eye contact. Because honestly, he hadn’t wanted to talk to people.

He was anxious about switching schools.

He was anxious to spend more time with Blaine.

Although maybe he shouldn’t have been. He felt… safe with Blaine. He also felt at ease—except for the whole having a huge crush on him thing.

But he was sweet and beautiful and he had those eyes.

He also felt... scared to get closer to Blaine. He already liked Blaine more than was probably appropriate... but now they were so close. They would see each other daily. 

Suddenly, it felt different.

“You won’t remember how to get anywhere until at least your third day of classes.” Blaine said, taking a piece of paper off of Kurt’s lap. “Oh God. You’re in my French class. Don’t judge me too much.”

“I love French.” Kurt said.

“Yeah… I don’t. I wasn’t good at Spanish, Latin, or Italian… French was supposed to be my saving grace, but I think I just can’t do it.” Blaine sighed. “Oh, you’re in Advanced English Four with David… ew, Trig with Wes… I think you’ve got study hall with me and David.”

“I can help you with French.” Kurt said, almost shyly.

“Great!” Blaine smiled. “I can help you figure out where you’re going… although, honestly… can we do it tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure.” Kurt nodded as Blaine stood.

Blaine held out a hand to help Kurt up. “You want some coffee?”

“Yeah but I don’t have my car yet. We came up in Dad’s truck with my stuff.”

Blaine pulled his car keys out of his pocket and shook them. “I’ve got mine.”

“Well, can we get my wallet first?”

“This ones on me, new kid.” Blaine smiled. “Do I need to hold your hand to guide you to the parking lot or do you think you’ve got it?”

“You aren’t as cute as you think you are.” Kurt said, not even thinking about it. His eyes then widened in horror but Blaine had walked ahead and couldn’t see.

“Rumor is that people here think I’m pretty cute.” Blaine held open the door. “You coming or not?”