compressing files on windows is so funny. i feel like i'm 10 years old cramming all my stuff on a suitcase and jumping on it to make it close

kyubey's main defense for "why do you cause the suffering and deaths of billions, if not trillions, of children?" is something about how the magical girl system (girls contracting, girls turning into witches, etc) creates energy to combat entropy and the heat death of the universe. while kyubey and incubators as a whole are presented as extremely advanced, logical, and emotionless as a species, this "defense" shows how irrational and paranoid they are.

the universe is still in its "early" years. it is not near its end or even its middle years in any sense of the word. entropy and heat death will not be any concern in the slightest for trillions of years, and that's an absolute low ball amount based on my pathetic math skill guess of the figures. the actual year estimates until heat death i can find all have numbers so large they aren't even written out normally, they're written using scientific notation. a few have said numbers listed like "1.7×10^106yrs (if protons decay)". that is a truly unfathomable amount of time.

yet the Facts And Logic, "why is human thought so irrational?" species is so worked up over this far future event (that is not an immediate threat in any way, shape, or form) that they use their irrational paranoia over it to justify murdering children and causing them to turn into the literal personifications of their own personal misery. "for the greater good" and "the ends justify the means" don't apply when the argument is this backwards.

even if you want to headcanon that maybe entropy was approaching at some point, and they had to beat it back before, which is why they're so worried — it's implied in canon that the present day pmmmverse is in no immediate danger. besides the fact that they'd likely be issuing contracts to literally anyone and everyone if that were the case, all that is said is that madoka witching out caps their necessary quota or something, so they don't need to worry about it for now. this sort of implies that it's not a current crisis, or else why would they stop the second they met this "cap"? why not continue elsewhere to get extra energy?

if incubators are immortal and are concerned for that reason, they have a literal infinite time to figure out a better or more convenient solution. current human theory already has questioned whether things like creating other/new universes intentionally is possible (and seeing that ours exist, "creating universes" is clearly possible Somehow). why not try to contact (adult) humans and exchange information or theories? sure, incubators are supposed to be highly intelligent and almost see humans as cattle, but they've been outsmarted by even human Children before in canon (madoka's wish being the prime example, and that was something thought out by a middle schooler). logic can only go so far, and this is said by someone who, irl, tends to look and act like the -_- emoji when not masking. humans could toss "dumb/silly" ideas at the wall, and incubators could use their advanced technologies and experience to see if they would work. perhaps a solution to escaping the universe/preventing heat death/etc could be found via cooperation, as opposed to "we must murder children because we are scared of something that will happen a zillion years from today, it's not our fault 🥺". many a human idea has been born simply out of "i wonder if this will work?" as opposed to only sticking to logical steps or only doing one thing forever, because you know that One thing For Sure works. even if it's tedious/more trouble than it's worth for the outcome. but incubators do not know or try this, because due to canon implications, it seems their MO has always been "lets murder the populace for miniscule amounts of energy" (as seen by the alien magical girl in one of the games) instead of "maybe we should try to find a solution together".

Day 7: Lover written for #SeveralSunlitDaylights & @corneliaavenue-ao3

a version of this has existed since may of 2020 and it feels so good to finally put it into the universe after sitting on it for three (THREE!) years... i have a feeling i will continue this at some point and hopefully turn it into a full blow fic, but until then, enjoy some non-traditional, pandemic themed, sex pollen, a/b/o dynamics <33

They said it started in China. At the annual festival in Shanghai. 

Some experts claimed the mutation originated because of an uncharacteristically dry winter. Some blamed climate change. Others said it was all part of the cyclical nature of the earth. A purification process. Nature taking its course. 

The more hysterically minded said it was the end of the fucking world. 

Either way, Ginny watched in horror with the rest of Edinburgh as more and more reports flooded the news.

All across the northern hemisphere, the cherry trees were blossoming, and people were going mad.

~~~

The thing about fear was that it spread like wildfire. 

Grocery stores emptied of necessities overnight. The Prime Minister issued stay at home orders, some of the more populated areas even attempted a voluntary curfew. Borders were closed, air traffic came to a grinding halt, restaurants were instructed to only offer takeout, and any non-essential businesses were told to close their doors entirely. 

For a while, it all felt over-cautious. 

At least until the first case hit Cardiff. 

They said the little omega lasted three days in a severe heat until the pain and the dehydration finally rendered her unconscious. Her family rushed her to the emergency room and it was another two days before the hospital identified what was happening to her. They said before she was quarantined, she infected almost thirty people, nine of them hospital staff. 

It spread from twenty-nine confirmed cases to over three-hundred within a week, three-hundred became eight-thousand within the month.

And that was just Wales.

~~~

Birmingham was the third city to reach critical levels of contamination, after Liverpool and Manchester. 

They projected a global spread, the more densely populated areas being hit first. Each day the estimates increased, predicting numbers so catastrophic, there hadn’t been anything like it in over five-hundred years.

The real test, however, was London. 

There were reports that all the major cabinet members had been moved to separate and secure locations. That way if any of them contracted the sickness, at the very least, they wouldn’t infect the rest of the country's leaders. 

The worst part was nobody seemed to know anything. Records of the last pandemic were inconclusive or didn’t exist. No one knew how long the sickness lasted or how debilitating it really was. Less reliable news sources even reported deaths when the first wave hit eastern China, rumours spreading of alphas ripping each other apart over the chance to mate an omega.

But that’s all they were. 

Rumours. 

~~~

Designation had never mattered much to Ginny. It was just something stamped on her birth certificate next to seven pounds two ounces, eighteen inches long. Her ruts weren’t dramatic events, they were hardly even a disruption. Four times a year, she’d get the urge, use her fingers on herself three nights in a row and wait out the subsequent five days of bleeding.

Designation also hasn’t mattered to the world in decades. Suppressants went out of fashion after the turn of the century, the human race’s more animalistic instincts fading with each generation until the ruts and heats became nothing more than quarterly nuisances. Only a very small percentage of the population still needed herbs and homoeopathic blockers to get by, the rest went about their lives business as usual.

Humanity had evolved past such trivial things as Alpha, Beta, and Omega. 

But now, it was all anyone could talk about.

~~~

Dawdling around the townhouse, Ginny took her frustrations out in the form of kneading a lumpy, soon to be loaf of bread while half listening to the news. Her television emitted a scratchy noise every few seconds, but for a dumpster dive, it worked fine enough. Especially since for the six weeks she’d been stuck at home, she’d hardly turned the damn thing off. 

It wasn’t so much that she was dedicated to being informed, she just couldn’t bear the silence.

No honking cars, no nosy tourists, no shouting street vendors.

It was quiet in an uncomfortable way, in an unnatural way. In a way that left Ginny too much alone with her own thoughts. 

As she punched the dough down as hard as she could, her telly warbled out an odd static followed by the evening news anchor chatting animatedly with a couple who supposedly recovered from the sickness.

“And you think having each other,” the journalist asked in disbelief, “helped speed up your recovery?” 

“We realise it sounds a bit crazy, we aren’t even sure if there is science to support it–” a male voice responded. He sounded rational enough even though what he was saying went against every directive of social distancing. “But I’m an alpha, and my wife is an omega. When we both came down with it, we decided to stay home and wait it out together. Within a week or so we felt completely back to normal...”

Ginny snorted. The hospitals reported the illness lasting between twelve to fifteen days, not seven. And what were their credentials besides claiming to have been infected? The news station could interview anyone off the street. They’d probably interview her if she claimed she danced naked, covered in chicken’s blood beneath the full moon and it spared her. If anything, the segment was irresponsible. Now people were going to go out looking for a sex partner for the week.

Sighing at the downturn in journalistic integrity, she tuned out the rest of the interview, content to bask in the early May breeze wafting through the open windows.

Until she heard the squeak of brakes slow to a stop out front. 

And muffled voices. 

Followed by a car door slamming shut. 

She’d just begun to wonder which bluenose neighbour had arrived to hole up in a holiday house when footsteps scuffed up the stone walk, her stone walk, and a key slid into the lock of her front door.

The knob turned, the door clicked open, and Ginny stood rooted to the spot, covered in flour as her landlord (slash older brother’s best mate) appeared framed on the stoop. 

At first, Harry didn’t notice her. He stepped inside, careful to scrub his shoes on the mat before closing the door behind him and dropping his duffle unceremoniously in the foyer. He looked the same as he had nearly a year ago. He scratched a hand through the disaster hair piled atop his head then patted it all down again. His glasses were the same, and he still had the same little divot permanently etching his brow into a scowl. Beneath his anorak she could tell his lean frame still gave way to lanky limbs that shifted into slender fingers. 

Then the telly switched programs, the News giving way to some crime documentary, or something. Ginny wasn’t actually paying attention. At the change in music, Harry froze with his back halfway to her and his shoulders went tight. 

Then he turned on the spot, and he finally registered Ginny’s presence tucked away in the kitchen at the back of the house.

Their gazes held for several beats too long, both of them wide-eyed and startled by the existence of the other in such close proximity. 

Ginny’s heart thundered inside her chest, in a way that was achingly familiar and entirely unwelcome. 

“What are you– I didn’t think–” Harry stammered quickly. “Ron said he was meeting you back home?”

“He was,” Ginny answered, just as flustered. “I’d planned on it but– I couldn’t– I mean, I…changed my mind.”

Harry dug his fingers into his eyes behind his glasses and swore softly. He looked a bit peaky.  

“Christ, I’m an idiot,” He croaked. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve called.”

“No, it’s fine,” she reassured, not quite sure why she was pardoning his intrusion. “It’s still your house.”

They stared at each other in the silence for several beats too long, both of them seemingly at a loss for what to do next. 

“Er–” Harry finally stammered, a grin taking over his face. “Hi, by the way.”

Ginny laughed. “Yeah... long time, no see.”

They went in for a hug at the same time, but it was too light and too quick to feel natural. As he pulled away, Harry averted his gaze and let his eyes wander around the hall and the front two rooms. 

“Is Luna…” he trailed off, as if those two words were question enough. 

Ginny realised she was still covered in baking powder and half finished dough. She grabbed a tea towel from the hook and wiped her hands just for something to look at besides him. “She and her Dad were visiting family in Hamburg when the stay at home orders hit. She’s been stuck there for over a month. They can’t get a flight home.”

Harry nodded and let out a deep exhale of sympathy. “Fuck, yeah, that’d be awful.” He paused, shooting her a furtive glance. “And you? How–how are you?”

“Yeah, fine,” One half of her mouth tipped into a smile. “You?”

Shaking his head as if in thought, his hands fidgeted slightly in front of him. “Well, London is a disaster. They aren’t letting anyone leave their homes, or letting anyone into town. They’re letting people leave, but it took me ten days just to get approval to hop a train. I figured it couldn’t be so bad up here, you know? That’s why I…”

He trailed off again and Ginny wondered if he’d become incapable of finishing a coherent sentence in the time since she’d seen him last. 

“Makes sense,” she nodded generously. 

Harry remained exactly where he was, awkwardly perched on the welcome mat. 

“You can come in,” Ginny asserted and he flinched a bit like he hadn’t expected to actually be allowed to stay. 

“Right,” he cleared his throat and stepped forward like a man walking the plank. 

Busying herself with the kettle, she tried not to be too aware of his progress through the sitting room. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him wave to the bookshelves on either side of the fireplace. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

Ginny grinned. The house held tell-tale signs of being solely occupied by her for the last month and a half. Stray jumpers, and rumpled throw pillows, and forgotten cups of tea sat scattered all around. The dishes in the sink were piled several days too high and the bananas on her countertop were just a shade too brown. 

“It’s a disaster,” she corrected, pulling her last two bags of tea out of the cupboard. 

Harry flashed her a smile, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. “I mean the furniture and things. The colours.”

“The colours?” she repeated incredulously. 

“Yeah,” he hummed, finally inching his way fully into the kitchen. He swallowed as his eyes settled on her once more. “It looks nice. Cosy.”

Snorting, she pulled her nearly empty carton of milk out of the refrigerator. “A sight better than when you and Ron lived here, you mean?”

That fleeting smirk again, there and then gone. “Do you know our sofa broke in two when we tried to move it out?”

“That does not surprise me in the slightest.”

Ginny poured and they both chuckled. She passed him one of the mugs and the milk, remembering how he took it. She reckoned it was one of those things she’d never forget. Like the opening to her favourite Spice Girls’ song, or her childhood phone number, or the rhymes to bonfire night. Two plus two equals four and Harry took his tea with milk, no sugar.

He tipped a splash into his cup, seemed to hesitate for a second, and then burst, “I can get a room. There’s got to be a hotel open in Old Town–”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ginny cut across him, spooning a heap of sugar into her own tea. Again, she wasn’t quite sure why she was contradicting him, but she refused to chase the thought down, because then she’d have to acknowledge that somewhere deep down she wanted him to stay. 

“Ginny,” he croaked. “I can’t intrude like this. I’ll figure something out. I’ll go stay at Sirius’ place in the country, or–”

“Harry,” she interrupted him again. “It’s your house.”

He seemed determined to put himself out. “But I can’t just show up out of the blue and–”

“Luna took your old room–” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

“I mean, you pay rent!” Now he was just talking to himself. “I had no right–”

“And she’s obviously not using it–” Ginny reasoned, though the ramifications of what she was suggesting crept up on her in a gradual recognition of awareness. 

“I bet the Chisholm Hunter has rooms–”

“Harry!” she cut across him in humoured agitation. “It’s fine. Stay tonight, or the next few days, or a week, until you figure it out. It’s fine.”

He blinked, the furrow between his brows deepening in thought. “You’re sure it’s okay?”

“Yes,” she lied, like a liar. “It’s not a big deal.”

It was kind of a big deal, but she could handle it. 

“You said they aren’t letting people into London, right?” Ginny continued. “What are you going to do? Rent a room until they let you go back home? That could be months!”

He opened his mouth as if to argue, then shut it again and exhaled sharply through his nose. 

“Yeah, alright,” He conceded. “But only until I can get ahold of Sirius. Then, I swear, I’ll get out of your hair.”

The statement stung, just a little. As if getting out of her sight was vastly preferable than remaining in it. 

“Where is he?” Ginny asked instead, lifting her mug to her mouth as if completely unaffected. 

Harry pulled out his mobile and punched in his passcode. “Australia. Apparently their cherry trees don’t bloom until September.”

A scoff bubbled up in the back of her throat. “Lucky Australia.”

He muttered something that sounded like agreement and pressed the phone to his ear. As he meandered back into the sitting room, Ginny turned her cupboards in search of biscuits. Surely, she still had a package left somewhere. 

Harry returned within moments. “Didn’t answer.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “Isn’t it like three in the morning?”

Harry gave her a flat look. “It’s Sirius.”

She laughed. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

Something in his expression sparked at her reaction and it made the breath in her lungs go shallow. 

Just like his smiles, the flare of something was there and then gone in an instant. She tried not to feel the familiarity of it, really she did, but something hollowed out spread through her middle at the reminder of her nearly debilitating infatuation, and then its eventual collapse. 

Ginny cleared her throat, coming back to her senses. “So, you said it took you forever to get a train ticket. Have they decreased the routes?”

“Oh, erm–” Harry took a sip of tea that was clearly too hot for his mouth and he winced. “Yeah, and they’re checking into everyone who books.”

Understanding washed over her. “Right, so they make sure people aren’t…”

Great, now she was incapable of finishing her sentences. 

He looked to her uncomfortably. “I hadn’t actually ever seen my birth certificate, I just always figured I was a Beta. Had to have a Doctor check me over once to make sure I wasn’t — you know — that I hadn’t gone unidentified.” 

“Right, good. Nice.”

Why exactly was it nice? She should really stop talking. 

“Is that why you…” He gestured vaguely south with one hand. “Couldn’t…go home?”

“Oh, er-” Ginny resisted the urge to cringe. “No.”

In reality, she’d had plenty of time to book a train to Devon before they started restricting the passengers who were designated one way or the other, but she hadn’t had the funds.

Harry’s gaze sharpened in curiosity. 

“Do you want to put your stuff upstairs?” she asked brightly. “You must be knackered after travelling all day.”

~~~

Ginny retreated to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her and leaning back against the sink. Shortly after Harry had settled into Luna’s room, his old room, she’d heard his mobile ring. His muffled voice through the mostly closed door had been maddening, and nearly too tempting to eavesdrop on, so she’d escaped. 

She was half-torn. One part of her wished Sirius was offering up his country house to his godson immediately, and the other part hoped there was some flood, or fire, or other natural disaster that made it inhabitable. 

Because the prospect of spending time with someone, but especially him; to not be alone hour after hour and day after day, was almost too exquisite to contemplate. 

Christ, she was hopeless. 

With nothing better to do than simmer in her own thoughts, Ginny turned the taps to the bath and adjusted the temperature until the shower spray was borderline scorching. She spent an excessive amount of time washing her hair and scrubbing her skin. She didn’t bother trying to figure out if she was doing it consciously or subconsciously, but she did know she was avoiding the end of her shower. Because as soon as she left the bath, she’d find out if he was staying or going. 

Both scenarios felt too formidable to contemplate. 

Eventually, though, the water ran cold, and Ginny couldn’t hide any longer. 

After brushing her teeth, applying night cream, and wrapping herself up in her dressing gown, Ginny yanked open the bathroom door to find Harry standing directly in the doorway, with his fist raised as if to knock. 

“Oh, sorry–” He muttered, his gaze flitting down her body and back up again. His face flushed just enough to notice. “That was Sirius,” he continued. “I can stay at his place, so I’ll be out of here as soon as I can book a train.” 

Ginny pulled in a breath and did her best to keep it even. “Right. Good.”

She felt anything but good. 

Squeezing past him and into the hallway, she kept her expression bright and open until she was safe inside her bedroom. 

In her haste, she missed the way his eyes fluttered shut as she passed. 

~~~

That night was unseasonably hot. The forecast had called for it to be a mild week, balmy and temperate, so Ginny wasn’t sure why the air wafting in through her open window felt so stifling. As she tossed and turned, a light sheen of sweat clung to her skin, and she contemplated the merits of another shower. This time a cold one. 

She settled for a glass of water instead. 

Padding down the hall toward the stairs, Ginny skirted past Luna’s room as quickly and quietly as she could. However, in the end, stealth didn’t matter.  

Harry was already in the kitchen, propped up against the sink and looking pale. 

“You okay?” Ginny muttered, taking a tentative step forward. 

Clenching his eyes shut, Harry kept his head down and nodded. “I don’t know what’s happened to my stomach. Food poisoning or something–”

“I may have some Pepti upstairs?”

Harry nodded again. 

She took a step closer, reaching for a glass from the shelf when the scent hit her. It smelled like fresh spring mornings, and the citrus of Earl Grey tea, and the warmth of never being alone. It smelled like home. 

Every instinct she had screamed at her to take in more of it, to surround herself in it. Harry’s eyes met hers through the dim light and she saw him pull in a deep inhale through flared nostrils. 

In an instant, her mind was restless and her body uncomfortably warm. Parts of her she didn’t know could ache, gnawed and cramped in time with her too loud pulse.

She dropped the glass she’d been holding at the same time Harry lept backwards. 

In some corner of her mind, she knew what was happening. All of the doctors listed the same symptoms over and over; heightened senses, irregular body temperature, lower-abdominal cramps, increased libido. However, she was firmly ignoring the signs… especially the last one. It was much easier to dismiss her body’s immediate urges as coincidence. Otherwise, she would also have to admit what triggered it. 

For fuck’s sake, Harry triggered it. 

But that would mean he–

Fucking fuck, fuck, fuck.

Sticking Points (M)

There comes a point in every man’s life where he is forced to introspection, to take stock of the sum of his life’s work and reckon with the choices that led him to present circumstances. Granted, most men seized the initiative sometime before their death, but then again, no one ever accused Nicoló of overachieving. Being the third son came with certain advantages: the freedom to fuck, fight, and be a nuisance in general without being a disappointment to anyone in particular.

He blames it on this that he doesn’t stop to consider what in God’s name he is doing until around death ten. 

He’s got the man pinned down, grip slackening by the moment as he makes a desperate effort to stay upright. It was embarrassing to get his throat slit again, more fool he, because despite all evidence to the contrary he can be a quick study, he just rarely finds a subject worthy of the effort. 

With the hard earned wisdom of one throat slitting already under his belt, he estimates he can hold out another ten seconds before he collapses and is, with the determination of one yet to realize that he’s got all the time in the world, intent on getting as much of his blood as possible into the other man’s eyes before then. 

Admittedly, Nicky got his sword into the pagan’s stomach a few minutes back, but after the scalping thing he thinks he’s earned this extra bit of spite. 

It’s hard to tell through the blood and blood-loss, but he thinks he sees the other man’s eyes go glossy mere moments before he too surrenders to the dark. A small victory, perhaps, but he can’t get the big ones to stick. 

He smiles into this death, a regrettable decision that causes him to awaken with a mouthful of his own blood sputtering against the man’s cheek. The superiority of looming over the infidel as they died is hampered by the indignity of waking up collapsed on top of him like a spent lover; their sweat, piss and blood mingle together. 

They have been spared the finality of death, but not the indignities of it. 

He flops onto his back, instinctively dragging his sword out of the temporarily-still-dead man’s stomach as he rolls. It’s a losing game to expect that this will be the time the infidel commits to expiry so Nicoló doesn’t bother to hope for it; optimism is needed more where the battle continues to rage on the other side of the city. Movement is still difficult. Whoever said all knowledge is worth having had never felt their windpipe reconnecting, so during the pause the universe strong-arms him into reflection.

It’s like this: 

Blood runs hot, and Nicoló had enough calefaction for a lifetime three weeks back. In large quantities blood dries slow enough to be simultaneously sticky and crusty, only to go on and dye your clothes a deep red that absorbs even more heat. He’s tired, nothing hurts but everything should, and he frankly doesn’t know if he’s been saved or cursed but he’d rather explore the issue after a long bath.

His ruminations on the likelihood of the Pope being utterly full of shit are interrupted by his arms being hacked off and his throat slit again , which is getting so tedious that when he comes back he can’t even muster up any anger about it. He’s sure it’ll come later, but right now he’s too parched to care. 

“Your sword is as dull as your wit,” he says peevishly in Greek, examining the jagged muscle tears. He’s coming rather rapidly to the conclusion that the man is probably not a demon— it seems unlikely that an emissary of Satan would be similarly covered in his own insides, but he is, undisputedly, an asshole.

An asshole who is suffering from the same fundamental problems as Nicoló, in order of importance: heat, hunger, and deathlessness. 

Armistices have been built on less.

Read More

Thoughts about Erik, why Wilhelm wasn't allowed to come out, and more.

Be warned, this is long, confusing, and I'm not even sure if I made any valid points. But I had thoughts on Young Royals, with no one to talk to, so here you go.

I've seen various different takes on Erik and what people thought his reaction would have been if Willie had come out to him, most of them being positive, and some as well saying how sad it was that Willie never got to come out to his brother. I have a different take, but bear with me it's gonna take a second to get there.

Something that I found interesting in the first place was that when August found out it was Simon and not a girl, he just seemed shocked, but not in a homophobic way that I had kind of been expecting.

Additionally, let's take a look at the comments on the video, I've split them up into three different groups. General comments (disbelief, surprise, pity, etc.), comments sexualizing them, and negative comments. (I've translated these as well as I could as they were not all captioned, but if I've made a mistake feel free to let me know!)

General Comments "OMG Have you seen this?? The Prince is gay!!!!" "Who's the other guy?" "I'm dead" "Finally some news to put Sweden on the map!" "Poor boys, I feel sorry for them" "So clumsy to get caught on film" "I know where he lives!" "I think the video is fake" "Love for the boys"

Sexualizing Comments "Royal porn" "Sexy" "Love" "Sexiest video ever"

Negative Comments "How will the monarchy survive this?" "The end of the royal family, time for Sweden to become a republic!" "Never been ashamed about being Swedish until now" "Class traitor! Your mother cries for your sins"

Now, there are quite a few things I want to point out about Sweden that I feel should be taken into account here. Of course, we don't know the exact dates that the show took place, but we do know it is modern-day, and though it is a work of fiction, I am going to assume that anything that is currently true in Sweden at the moment, give or take a few years, would also be true in the Young Royals universe.

The first point I would like to make is that Sweden is one of the most LGBT-friendly countries, even being named the most friendly country in 2019. Looking back in history, 1944 was when Sweden decriminalized sexual relationships between consenting adults of the same sex, though it was still thought to be an illness. However, in 1979 it was no longer considered an illness. Fun unrelated fact, but Sweden was the first country to legalize gender change in 1979. (If you'd like to read more on LGBT rights in Sweden here are some resources. One. Two.) If Sweden is that progressive and is that LGBT-friendly, then I wondered what the problem was with Willie coming out, so I dug some more.

I'm American, so my understanding of many parts of the world is unfortunately skewed or incomplete, but I'm working on changing that. However, because of this, one thing that surprised me in my research was that the monarchy in Sweden is more of a unifying symbol than anything else. They have no political affinity or formal powers, but rather "the King’s duties are mainly of a ceremonial and representative nature." Of course in the case of Young Royals, the Queen inherited the throne, and Wilhelm would after her.

Something else I found interesting about the monarchy in Sweden is that the current Queen, Queen Silvia, did not come from a line of nobility, so when Queen Silvia and King Carl Gustaf married in 1976, it was highly unusual. (See more on the Swedish monarchy here.)

There is one last thing I want to point out about the current King and Queen. "In summer 2000, King Carl XVI Gustaf and Queen Silvia of Sweden made history when they ate under the rainbow flag at Djurgårdsterrassen, a Stockholm restaurant owned by gay owner Arto Winter. At that time, the decision was seen as controversial, and played a valuable role in moving conversations forward – while making the royals’ position abundantly clear." (Source)

Now, of course, I understand the difference between a fictional work and real-life situations, but at least in my opinion, these same ideals should carry through to the show that we see. If the King and Queen in real life have been openly supportive of the LGBT community since at least 2000, then although specifics might not be the same, some of those ideals should carry through to Young Royals, so what is the problem, right?

I'm not trying to erase the reality of homophobia altogether, because of course, that exists. We even see in the show through comments that there are some people who are worried about the state of the monarchy, are disgusted, or downright still think that not being straight is a sin, but we also see other comments as well. If Wilhelm were to come out, what would happen? Would there be some backlash? 100%. Would there be people who would support him? Also 100%. Would it make his life harder? Probably, but would he be happier? In my opinion, yes, but I guess that's a question that Wilhelm would have to gauge on his own.

Now I want to look deeper at the conversation that Wille has with his mother, the Queen, in the car on the way home so he can give a statement to the media. Below is an excerpt from their dialogue.

---

Wilhelm: Why can't I just have a relationship with him? And not say anything. Just live a normal life.

Queen: You're the crown prince. And that's a privilege, not a punishment.

Wilhelm: Yes, but I didn't ask for this!

Queen: Well, nobody has ever, ever asked for this! You are the only one who can take over the throne after Erik. Don't you understand that? You are so young. When you're young, love feels like the most important thing in the whole world. When I was your age, I too had an unfortunate romance. That was before I met your father. What I mean is, is it worth it? If you feel that the attention you've been getting so far is unacceptable, it's nothing compared to what you will endure for the rest of your life. We have a chance to cover this up, I urge you to take that chance. You may not get another."

---

Something I find interesting is how much Willie just wants to live a normal life, which I get. He is under so much pressure, from being a role model, his brother's death that he hasn't even had time to process, preparing to be king someday, and (kind of) being outed to the entire world, but at least his school. It's enough to make anyone want to live normally. I think the biggest thing we have to think about here is the Queen's question as well. Is it worth it? She is right of course, the attention he will get will always be there, but I do think that Willie would be able to find a way to be happy along with being King. It shouldn't have to be a case of either-or, and ultimately I don't think it is.

Now I'm going to move back to Erik, and really, this ties everything back to the start where I mentioned I had a different take on Erik's reaction to Willie being not straight. I think that Erik already knew. It would make sense for a variety of reasons. In the show, it is obvious that the two of them have a good relationship. We also hear Erik tell Willie, "you can trust him, he's like a brother," in episode one when speaking about August, showing that trust is something strong between them as brothers. I'm not exactly sure how old Wilhelm is meant to be in the show, but I estimate somewhere around sixteen. I would like to assume that sometime before attending Hillerska, he may have had a crush or felt some attraction to a guy. We also can see from their phone call in episode three, that they're not afraid to joke around with each other about such things, meaning that Erik would most likely be the first person that Willie would go to about such things.

Another thing that makes me believe Erik already knew has to do with people assuming that Simon is the first guy that Willie has liked. Now, I know things are not the same for everyone, but if we consider what happens when the video is posted, and Willie had to deny it is him, we can conclude that being anything other than straight in their family is not okay, simply because they are royals, and the media attention will be too much. Imagine you've known your whole life, you can't be something, the first instance you encounter that, you're probably not going to give in right away. I'm talking at least some minor internalized homophobia here or something.

So put that into the context of Simon and Willie's first kiss in episode two. Simon kisses Willie twice before Willie says "Well, I'm not... I'm not... Stop! Wait, wait, wait!" and immediately pulls Simon back towards him. Let's reflect back to episode one where Willie says "I’m not… I’m not allowed to speak about political issues." I'm not allowed. Of course, there are TONS of restrictions on what he can and can not do, kissing guys, probably being one of them. But if he was going to say I'm not gay or I'm not like that, why would he instantly pull him back in, contrasting what he was just going to say. In episode three, Willie does say, "I'm not like that," which makes sense. He's had time to think and isn't in the heat of the moment. What other explanation can he give? Sure, he could say he's not allowed to be like that but saying that would admit that he is. It's a circle, a very messy circle, but it is a... loop.

Going back to what I'm supposed to be talking about here, Erik. This isn't Willie's first rodeo, but Erik was there for the first. One last thing I want to talk about is the phone call that Erik and Willie have in episode three. Below is an excerpt from their dialogue.

---

Erik: You've met someone.

Wilhelm: I, uh... Yes, okay, but I... I don't think we're a couple or anything. I don't know what it is but can we just...

Erik: I get it. I get it. You don't have to tell me any... I don't wanna hear any details. Hey. Willie, enjoy yourself. Soon enough people will start having opinions and-

Wilhelm: They don't care about me. 'Cause you're the Crown Prince that they have opinions.

Erik: I don't get it. Why are you sitting in your room sulking when you have a crush to hang out with?

---

Firstly, Erik refers to Willie's crush as completely gender-neutral. "You've met someone" could very easily be "you've met a girl". The same goes for "you have a crush to hang out with". Very well could have been "you have a girl to hang out with". Sure, it could be completely coincidental, but we live in such a heteronormative society that it would just make sense for Erik to use female-gendered words. Unless, of course, he knew.

Secondly, "Hey. Willie, enjoy yourself. Soon enough people will start having opinions". This sounds very much to me like, enjoy your time while you can be yourself without backlash because soon you won't have that privacy. While I feel that, yes, the same may happen with anyone Willie was to date, him having a same-sex partner multiplies that, by a lot.

In conclusion, Erik knew Willie was not straight, Willie should come out, but when he is ready, and August is a really deep character that people don't give enough credit to. Gosh, I hope I covered everything, I probably forgot so much, but it's fine. Please let me know your thoughts if you've made it this far into the post.

One last thing. I hope you'll notice how in this post, I never referred specifically to Wilhelm's sexuality, and I did that for a reason. I often see gay used to label him, and though I am unsure if that's being used as an umbrella term or specifically as in he only likes men, I think it's really important to realize that they're specifically making him unlabeled. In this youtube video Edvin Ryding, the actor who plays Wilhelm, says "What we're trying to do... We're not labeling Wilhelm's sexuality. I think that's good because it's like, it portrays that it's okay that way too. You don't have to. You shouldn't have to come out. It should be allowed to be a bit fluid, a bit out there." I just think that it is important as it's another type of representation that is not seen often.

There is this desert wildflower -- a rare plant, an endemic species -- known to inhabit only about 10 acres of land along the base of the Silver Peak Range at Rhyolite Ridge. The plant is small, short, unimposing. The plant’s home -- within Nevada borders, a bit north of Death Valley, a bit west of Tonopah, and a bit east of the Inyo Mountains and the desert valley below -- sits near the ecological transition zone between the Great Basin ecoregion and the Mojave Desert.

Surveillance cameras, installed in the desert, now monitor the wildflowers.

The plant: Tiehm’s buckwheat (Eriogonum tiehmii). More than half of all of the surviving plants -- more than half of the species -- were killed or damaged in summer 2020.

Amidst ongoing mining surveys in the region, Australian mining company ioneer is seeking a permit to open a lithium mine at Rhyolite Ridge. If their plans are approved, it has been estimated that about 50% to 75% of Tiehm’s buckwheat will be destroyed.

So of course, there is controversy. In that context, the mine developer, politicians, land management agencies, the governor’s office, field ecologists, and environmental groups are all closely watching the creature. And they’re all arguing fiercely over what, exactly, happened in summer 2020 that led to the plant’s death and destruction.

-------

I’d been following this controversy, but it wasn’t until I read a recent article that I was able to see the comments of multiple biologists brought together in one place. Daniel Rothberg, writing for The Nevada Independent, synthesized a lot of the ongoing controversy and research in an enlightening article from 10 January 2021, where he cites plenty of biologists with, at times, conflicting ideas about what was responsible for the destruction. (Most of the quotes here can be found/verified in that article. Basically, all I’m doing here is summarizing Rothberg’s reporting, so I’d recommend just checking out his article.)

-------

In 2019, after the Center for Biological Diversity petitioned state and federal agencies to list the plant as endangered, the Australian mining company basically said (here, in Rothberg’s words) “that a mitigation proposal for Tiehm’s buckwheat,” rather than full-blown legal protections, ‘would maintain the species” adequately, with the company apparently preemptively deflecting criticism by “emphasizing the need for more lithium in supply chains for batteries and electric vehicles.”

So, in September 2020, it was announced that thousands of the plants had recently been found dead, with thousands more damaged.

In October 2020, a supervisory biologist (Jim Morefield) with the Nevada Department of Natural Heritage submitted a report stating that “of about 44,000 individuals, one could estimate that 16,000 plants were killed [in summer 2020] and another 11,000 damaged, leaving about 17,000 plants undamaged as of September 17 [2020].”

Some botanists -- working for environmental groups, universities, and land management agencies -- are saying that the “staggering” number of damaged plants and the extremely sudden occurrence of the damage suggest that the plants might’ve been targeted purposely by humans. (A field survey sponsored by the Center for Biological Diversity submitted: “The buckwheats appear to have been dug up by small shovels or spades.”)

Other scientists -- including some working for land management agencies, universities, or otherwise contracted by the lithium mine company -- say that rodents were responsible. This claim (about rodents) raises more questions: If rodents did engage in herbivory (which hadn’t previously seemed to affect this buckwheat species, especially at such scale and pace), then what would’ve driven the rodents to do suddenly harvest buckwheat?

-------

Settler-colonial land management agencies can’t find a consensus about what happened.

Rodents? The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service visited the site to assess evidence of rodent herbivory on the buckwheat. They claimed that white-tailed antelope ground squirrels might’ve been the most likely responsible vandal.  The study’s lead author, a botanist from the region, acknowledged the tension: “Many biologists wrote into the Fish and Wildlife Service with their opinions that this could not possibly have been caused by rodents [...].”

The Nevada Department of Wildlife also investigated the site and instead reported that, if rodents had indeed been responsible, the damage looks more consistent with foraging behavior of pocket gophers. But even the department’s director also added: “the scale over which the disturbance occurred by far exceeds known home range size for an individual pocket gopher” and also doubted that multiple pocket gophers would simultaneously shift to targeting the buckwheat, especially at such a scale.

Meanwhile, the Nevada Department of Natural Heritage report on the damage estimated that, as summarized by Rothberg’s article: “if 27,000 buckwheat plants were damaged or killed, 900 individual rodents would have had to have consumed one plant per day for the course of a month.”

To be fair, some other ecologists in the region, some cited in Rothberg’s article, do reference how 2020 was the driest year on record for the Great Basin, and these ecologists acknowledge that they’ve seen some evidence of rodents’ herbivory in times of drought. Part of the implication: Anthropogenic climate change and associated sudden drought/heat might drive rodents to rapidly change their habits and target unusual foraging items, like the buckwheat.

-------

Of course, James Calaway, executive chariman for the mining company ioneer, referencing the USFWS study (the one that name-drops white-tailed antelope ground squirrels as the culprit), said that the study “conclusively shows that the destruction of Tiehm’s buckwheat at Rhyolite Ridge discovered in mid-September was exclusively animal caused.”

“Conclusively.” OK.

Patrick Donnelly, director of the Center for Biological Diversity, speaking about the origin of the destruction, said recently about the source of the destruction (quoted in the Las Vegas Sun): “It does not matter if it was a squirrel or a kangaroo or aliens or James Calaway himself. The plant needs to be listed under the Endangered Species Act. It should have been listed when we discovered the damage."

Ben Grady is president of the Eriogonum Society (Eriogonum being the genus/family name for buckwheat) and a botanist at Ripon College. As quoted in Rothberg’s article: “I study buckwheat, and normally there is not a lot of herbivory on buckwheat.”

Naomi Fraga is the director of conservation at the California Botanic Garden. Working with the Center for Biological Diversity, she visited the buckwheat site to perform an assessment of the damage. As quoted in Rothberg’s article, speaking about the USFWS’s study: “I just don’t think it’s a case-closed.” Fraga, referencing the possibility that rodents were responsible: “It would be extraordinary.” Also Fraga: “That is one of the largest puzzles that is hard to reconcile with a natural event: the targeted nature, how specific it was and that it occurred across a whole range of the species.”

-------

See photos of the desert wildflower, and read more: Daniel Rothberg. “The curious case of a rare plant’s destruction raises further questions about the extinction crisis, climate change and the role of humans.” The Nevada Independent. 10 January 2021.

Interesting plant, interesting tale.

I Might ◑

Pairing: timeskip!Akaashi Keiji x gn!reader Genre: Hurt/comfort, a little bit of romance and fluff? Synopsis: You just wanted your coffee. Instead, you got a stranger together with your drink. Word Count: ~3.7k A/N: I never thought this would be so long please don’t get bored. I also apologize for any grammatical errors, I am so rusty, lol. This is my first work in my Love Me ◑ series. Thank you!! -- sloth 🦥 Listen to I Might ◑ here.

It’s hard to vanish without a trace And whose idea was this in the first place? I might, I might, I might Fake my death tonight So we can start a whole new life

You always have been a regular of this coffee shop you're in right now. Ever since you were a university student, up until now that you're a writer for a lifestyle magazine, you always make sure to visit this café at least every 3 months to unwind and relax -- even if it meant that you will have to starve yourself for days so that you can have the money to treat yourself at this hidden gem of a place.

You ordered your usual. Upon receiving your drink and pastry, you took a seat and table on the balcony outside overlooking the lake below. You are the only person here because the other customers are inside the shop utilizing the fireplace and heater. It is kind of chilly, luckily, you sport a thick cardigan on. You took a deep breath and the scent of coffee, cinnamon, and pine trees helped in calming your nerves down.

As you took a sip of your caramel macchiato, you are mentally listing the reasons why this place became your go-to spot. First, it is located in a place up in the mountains, so it is very cold and only a few people are braving to go here. Second, the coffee and pastries this place offers deliciously hits your coffee-loving sweet tooth. For you, no amount of Starbucks or Tim Hortons can compete with this café. Lastly, and the most important, this place witnessed and cured you of your misfortunes and depression. Every time something bad happens, being the introvert that you are, you tend to go off the grid to escape and do your "soul searching", and this place helped you with that.

You brought out your journal and pen, scribbling random thoughts that fill your overactive brain. Your friend, who is a psychologist, advised you that whenever you feel overwhelmed, you can write the feelings or things that seem to engulf you. “It somehow will help you in releasing your frustrations instead of bottling it up,'' she said.

You looked up and admired the view this place has to offer. The sky is painted pastel orange with hues of blue and purple. You noticed that fog is already forming below, hugging the pine trees around the lake. The lagoon is calm as ever, reflecting the already setting sun. You smiled as you basked in peace and contentment.

However, your tranquility was kind of disturbed when the balcony glass doors opened and a tall man with short, black, tousled hair occupied a seat two tables away from you. He looked like he stepped out of a men's fashion magazine -- he was wearing black-rimmed eyeglasses, a beige turtleneck, black jeans, a long brown coat, and a satchel sling bag. He then settled his tray with his own coffee and pastry on his table. You immediately turned your head away, afraid that this beautiful man may have caught you staring. You felt heat from your cheeks forming as you carried on scrawling in your journal. He's so beautiful, you thought.

However, as you continued to write, you remembered the face of your boss making your blood slightly boil. Well, the reason you are here is because of the stress in your workplace -- asshole superiors, some good-for-nothing co-workers, shitty salary, unreasonable work hours, and your list goes on. Once I gained my needed years of experience, I will immediately resign, I swear on the grave of that ungrateful boss bastard. This anger made you forget about the pretty man meters away from you.

Little did you know that he is also staring at you. He noticed your furrowed eyebrows and the intensity of you jotting away at your notebook. He also noticed your reddened cheeks and the breath vapor that formed as you huffed in exasperation. He was not the one to be observant towards strangers (it is only his friends that he is concerned about), but you have this certain aura that entices him. He smiled as he gulped his black coffee, pulled out his laptop from his bag, opened it, and checked some emails.

You estimated that ten minutes have already passed and you are still writing, anger somehow dissipating when suddenly you heard a loud "Hey, hey, hey, can we talk to the manager?” inside the coffee shop. You sighed because now, your peace is totally disrupted. You whipped your head to look at the commotion inside and you saw a tall man with spiky gray hair and black streaks wearing a black hoodie and jeans. That loud guy was accompanied by another taller man with messy, spiky black hair wearing a white t-shirt tucked in his slacks. The store manager then approached them. What’s with very tall, beautiful people today wanting coffee? You thought.

Shrugging, you looked again at your notebook. Without thinking, you stole a glance towards the direction of the man seated meters away from you. You saw that he was pale and his eyes were wide, frozen in shock. His gaze fell upon you, realizing that you were looking at him. He immediately scrambled from his seat and briskly walked towards you. You instinctively panicked. What is happening?!

He stopped beside your seat and he instantly crouched down, as if hiding from something. You looked down at him, your eyes also a notch bigger than normal from shock. He then softly whispered, “Under no circumstances you will tell anyone, especially them --” he motioned towards the two men inside the shop -- “that I am here. Please.” His emerald eyes are practically begging you. Hypnotized by him, you just nodded. “I’ll just hide in the comfort room, just knock four times when they are gone.” He said and then clambered away from you, making his way towards the bathroom.

You took a deep breath and sighed loudly. You are very confused as to why the man was hiding. Is he a serial killer? Are the two tall men inside detectives or something? Or are they kidnappers? Hitmen? Is the pretty boy gonna be abducted? Your mind was in overdrive. You thought of just packing up and leaving the establishment, but you sympathize with the man you just spoke with. You don’t know why, but you can relate to him.

Your musings are interrupted as the lights in the balcony lit up. Oh, the sun has already set. You glanced at your wristwatch and it was already 6:30 PM. You heard the balcony doors open and the tall, black-haired man entered, with the gray-and-black haired man following suit. Oh, shit, they are here to question me.

“Hi.” The man with black hair smiled at you. “I am Kuroo, and the noisy one there is Bokuto.”

Bokuto is smiling widely, walking towards you but is distracted by the view of the city skyline. He ran and stood beside the balcony railings. “Man, it is beautiful and cold here in Miyagi!”

Kuroo scratched his head, “I apologize for my loud friend, but have you seen a man this tall ---” he gestured his hand just near his temples, demonstrating the height of the man you spoke with earlier -- “he has green eyes and black-rimmed eyeglasses.”

“Yes, yes, he looks preppy,” Bokuto said as he finally walked towards your seat.

You cleared your throat. You have this habit of clearing your throat when you are nervous. “No, I haven’t seen anyone with that description.” You lied as you nervously sip your now cold coffee.

“Oh really?” Bokuto pouted, deep in thought. He then looked at Kuroo, pointing at the other table. “That looks like his laptop and bag.”

You almost choked on your drink as you realized that the man left his things at his table. Shit. Your mind quickly formulated a shitty lie. “Uhm, it is a girl -- an employee that is seated there, not a man.”

“Employee?” They said in unison.

“Yes. An employee of this coffee shop. That’s her laptop. They are doing interviews earlier. Job openings…” You trailed off.

The two men just nodded. Bokuto sighed loudly. “Where did Akaashi run off to? I am getting worried. He’s gone for a week already! His ex-girlfriend is so mean!”

“Hey now, he is a grown-ass man okay? I know he knows what he is doing. Let’s just resume the search tomorrow, shall we?” Kuroo patted his friend’s back.

Bokuto looked at you with his somber, amber, owl-like eyes and said, “Thank you for your help. We are very sorry for disturbing you.”

“So we’ll leave you alone now, thank you again.” Kuroo nodded at you and the pair started walking out of the balcony. You awkwardly smiled at their backs.

When Kuroo closed the balcony glass doors, you noticed his cat-like eyes lingered on you for a moment, glimpsed at Akaashi’s table, and at you again. Maybe it is just the lighting inside the coffee shop, or it is only your imagination, but you saw a small, sly smile forming on his lips. He finally turned his back and walked away.

What the heck was that? Did he know that I’m lying?! I am really a shitty liar. You ran your fingers through your hair. You then stood up and glanced around, ensuring that the two men were really gone. You immediately went to the bathroom and knocked four times. There was no response but you can hear shuffling inside. You immediately went back to your seat on the balcony.

Minutes later, Akaashi emerged from the door, went to his table, and started to gather his things. Oh, he’s leaving already, what did I expect? You thought as you softly face-palmed yourself.

“Can I sit here?”

You removed your palm from your face and looked up at Akaashi. You felt your eyes widen again. “You... You were not leaving?”

“No, not yet.”

You just nodded and removed your bag from the seat across you. He then took the said seat.

"So.." He looked sideways, afraid to meet your eyes because of embarrassment. "I think I owe you an explanation."

You just nodded again, still dumbstruck by his charm.

“To start, I am Akaashi Keiji, well… You can call me Keiji.” He took a sip of his coffee. “And contrary to what Bokuto said earlier --”

“You heard them earlier?” You finally spoke, interrupting him. Oh god, he must have heard my pathetic lies earlier.

“Uhh, yes. Those two are so loud, they sound like they swallowed microphones or something.”

You chuckled at his snarky comment. “Yeah, they really are loud.”

“Anyway… Thank you so much for what you did earlier. I am truly sorry for dragging you into this.” He scratched his head. “Good thing they fell for your alibi.”

“Yeah, Bokuto fell for it. He must really miss you.” You broke a small piece from your chocolate chip cookie and munched on it. “But for Kuroo… I don't know. I think he knows.”

“Oh, Kuroo? He really is a pain in the ass.” Akaashi rolled his eyes and sighed. “So to continue, contrary to what Bokuto said earlier, it is not because my ex-girlfriend dumped me. It's been three months ago already. I kind of expected it because I caught her cheating so many times I cannot count it with my two hands.” He said nonchalantly while holding up both of his hands.

How can he be so cool about being dumped?! You thought, then you noticed that although calloused, he has very nice hands. Blue veins were prominent in his palms, running up toward his long, slender fingers. You want to punch yourself for noticing that at this time. Hey, stupid self, this is not the time for simping on a stranger!

He continued, “I disconnected from everyone because everything is overwhelming me. My job, my boss, bills, rent… Adulting is very hard, you know?” He droned on as he fiddled the cup sleeve of his coffee. "Also, I have always wanted to be a literary editor, but instead, they assigned me as an editor in a manga magazine."

You wanted to ask how he went off the grid because you’re interested in doing that too, but he continued on ranting.

“I am usually a calm and collected person.” Akaashi gulped again on his coffee. “I usually handle problems like a breeze, not even my friends can recognize that I have problems because I immediately find ways and solve them with ease. But now, I think I reached my tipping point, and it’s very hard to keep up with this front anymore. I am just tired, then I find myself driving away from Tokyo, and here I am.” He stared into your eyes, expecting for you to say something. Akaashi surprised himself that he bared his vulnerabilities upon a stranger.

Well, you are also astonished just the same. You realized it is getting serious.

“So.. how long have you been into hiding?”

He counted in his mind. “Today is the sixth day.”

You cleared your throat again. "Since you're very honest with me, can I be very honest with you too?"

He looked at you and nodded. "Yes please. I need it."

"Promise that you won't be mad or something?"

"I promise."

"Okay, let's start." You cleared your throat again because you're nervous. "First, it's okay to admit that you're hurt because your ex-girlfriend broke your heart."

"I am not hurt--" He muttered in protest.

"Ah ah ah." You interrupted him. "Your nonchalance about it did not match the way you narrated it. Too many words for someone who did not care."

Akaashi's eyes widened, as if slapped by the truth. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Okay, okay, I think you're right." He exhaled loudly. "I gave her so many chances…" He trailed off.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Maybe later." He looked at you and in all seriousness said, "I am Akaashi Keiji and I admit I am hurt. My heart has been broken. Luckily, very recently, I think I am healing."

You smiled at him. Her ex-girlfriend must be stupid to dump a guy this pure and well.. good looking. “Okay, good, good!" You exclaimed as you took another bite of your cookie. "Well, I don't know if this helps, but I just learned that love is like trial-and-error. Some people get it right the first time, but most of the time, you will try, and try, and try, until you get it right…" Your voice trailed away.

Akaashi looked at his untouched croissant. "Yes, I think that helped." He flashed a faint smile and looked up again. "I'm ready for your next one."

"Okay. Here it goes. Yes, I very much agree that adulting is very hard."

"Right? They did not teach this in high school, nor in university." He poked his pastry.

"I cannot give insights on adulting because I'm going through it too, you know? I am just as lost as you." You removed the cup sleeve of your coffee and toyed with it. "But I can assure you, you and me, we are not the only ones lost. We just have to deal with asshole people, I guess?"

"Yeah. Fuck asshole people." He grinned.

You chuckled. You don't know why a sudden warmth spreads through your chest. Maybe it's because you made him smile? Or the fact that you, a stranger, comfort him? Or the relief that you are not alone dealing with the pressure of adulting? Or maybe all of the above?

"Ready for the third one?"

"Yeah."

"I am pretty much aware that I'm in no position to tell you this, but damn, editor already at such a young age?"

"It's not my dream job, though." He retorted.

"But you're still young." You smiled softly, even though you envy him. In the magazine company where you're working, you're only a writer, nothing more, nothing less. "You must be pretty awesome to be an editor already. You still have plenty of time to reach your dream job. No need to rush, it is not a race." Even though you're jealous of him, you can't help but be in awe of him. Good looking plus smart? Damn. I need to stop simping.

"Yeah." He rested his chin on his hands. "Once again, I guess you're right. What am I in a rush for?" He nodded. "Even though I just met you minutes ago, why are you easy to talk to? Why are you so good at this?" He looked at you with his bright, green eyes.

"Believe me, I don't know. I am usually silent but here I am, babbling things to a stranger.” You shrugged, chuckling. “I am only realizing these things now because of you. Earlier, I was down in the dumps too."

"I am going to ask you later why you are in the dumps, but in the meantime, I am ready for the next one."

You purse your lips. "Okay, Keiji, you must rejoice because this is the last one."

"Okay. I'll brace myself."

"Here it goes.” You held his gaze. “I think you're too hard on yourself. You need to loosen up."

He just blinked at you.

You folded your coffee cup sleeve and slowly tore it as you spoke. "Also, expressing emotions is not a sign of weakness. I think you are tiring yourself out because you keep a front that you are strong, that you have no problems.” You noticed that he winced. “Because of that, you get drained. You must remember that you are just as vulnerable as everyone."

He took a gulp of his now cold coffee.

You continue to tear your cup sleeve. “You don’t need to change how you act after this. You can still be withdrawn with your emotions towards others, I mean, it’s not easy to change yourself after one night, right? But the only thing important here is you need to be honest with your feelings. You should not apologize for how you feel. Also, it is never wrong to ask for help from others. If you’re hurt, acknowledge it. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, acknowledge it. If you’re tired, acknowledge it.”

You exhaled, looked up at him, and saw his eyes were watery.

Shit, is he about to cry? “H-hey, I am sorry --”

His tears finally fell. “Oh.” He touched his cheeks wet from the tears and flinched. “It’s weird. It does not stop.” He pointed at his eyes with a slight panic in his voice.

You felt your eyes water too as you grabbed your packet of tissues inside your bag. “Here, you can wipe them if you want.”

“Thank you.” He removed his eyeglasses and wiped his cheeks. “I cannot stop it.” His tears are still streaming like a waterfall.

“Good lord, when was the last time you cried?” You asked, concerned.

“I-- I can’t remember. It’s a long time ago, I guess.” He sniffed, wiped his tears again, then weakly chuckled. “I am sorry for crying --”

“Ah ah ah.” You interrupted again. “Repeat after me. You should never ---”

He cut you off, “Never apologize for how I feel. Also, be honest with my feelings. Ask help from others.”

You smiled. “Great.” It then took about a good five minutes until his silent crying stopped.

He cleared his throat. “Hey. Thank you. Crying feels good.”

“It is not in my intention to make you cry, but you’re welcome, I guess?”

He chuckled. “Uhm, do you want another drink or pastry? It’s my treat.” He offered while he wore his eyeglasses again.

“Really? Wow, thank you.” My broke ass won’t let this one pass.

“On one condition. You’ll tell me about yourself too.”

“Okay.” You beamed. “But I think you’ll be bored.”

“Nope. I am all ears.” He smiled.

“Excuse me.” A barista walked to your table and smiled at both of you. “We will close in ten minutes, any additional orders?”

The both of you shook your head and thanked the barista. He went inside again.

You looked at your wristwatch. "It's almost midnight already?!"

"Really? Time flies so fast." Akaashi said. You did not see it but he looked at you with his soft eyes.

“So... Let’s go?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The both of you packed up your things and went inside. He bowed to the store manager, then the both of you exited the coffee shop. It was so cold outside that you could see your and Akaashi’s breath. You tucked your hand inside your pockets.

“Hey. Did you also tell the manager about Bokuto and Kuroo?” You asked him.

“Yes. Thank god she is also cooperative.”

“You really thought about this, huh?”

“Of course. However, tomorrow, it’s finally time for me to appear before my friends.”

“I think Bokuto will bawl his eyes out.”

The both of you laughed.

When your giggles subsided, Akaashi spoke. “So…”

“Yeah, uhm, I’ll go this way.” You pointed at the other path. “The cabs are this way.”

“Alright.”

“Thank you, Keiji. Goodbye.” You smiled at him and started to walk away. I like him, I like to know him more, but god, he just came from a breakup. If I get attached, that would count as taking advantage of a vulnerable person, right?! You overthink as you felt your heart getting heavy with every step you take. I am very much going to regret this tomorrow. Very much. You continued to walk down the narrow path, thinking about the many things that happened today.

You are seriously pondering when you suddenly hear Akaashi shout your name, making you stop in your tracks. You turned around and he immediately appeared from your view, running, and halted in front of you.

“W-wait.” He panted, catching his breath. “You told me to be honest with my feelings.”

You just blinked at him, already panicking on the inside.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to you. “Please input your phone number. I want to see you again.”

“B-but Tokyo is far from Miyagi --”

“Ah ah ah.” He copied the way you interrupted him earlier and smirked. “It will be worth the drive.”

You felt your heart beat faster as if it wanted to escape your ribcage. “Okay.” You mustered as you typed your number in his phone and thanked the gods that it is somehow dark or else he will see your tomato cheeks right now.

You looked up at him and handed him his phone with your cold, trembling hands.

“This not a fake number?”

“What? No.”

“Just making sure.” He smiled at you.

The moon has never been so bright that night.

I do believe it would be for the best for you to have that nice day with Janus that you'd planned to have, Logan. Like you said, you shouldn't neglect your own wellbeing, and your emotional wellbeing looks like it could use the break.

(Words: 3431)

Logan let out a sigh "You're right. Worrying nonstop for Remy won't help them either way"

--

Two days later Janus had a devious smile on his lips as he sat in the passanger seat of Logan's car. His boyfriend had picked him up directly from his apartement. He hadn't said where they were going.

"Let me guess. You are taking me to the woods and surround me by your league of vampires so you can go through with your monthly blood sucking ritual” Janus guessed.

"Oh no dear. That I do with Patty the first thursday of every month" Logan replied druly.

His hands were shaking slightly as he held onto the steering wheel. Every time he looked over to his boyfriend all he could see was Remy passed out with the bruise all around their neck. He could hear every word they'd yelled. His throat tightened.

Logan hit the brake and the car slid to a stop. They were near a park. It was 9 pm and the sky had started to darken.

"We can- We can walk the rest of the way yes? Some fresh air has almost never hurt anyone and the cases where it has are very fascinating" He hoped it would distract him.

“Ah yes because I am so well known for enjoying long walks!” Jan replied sarcastically “Maybe I will if it’s with you”

Logan took out a bag from the backseat. Jan took his boyfriend's free hand and leaned his cheek against his shoulder as they went into the park.

"Is that the bag you're going to hide my body in?"

"I'm afraid the bag is too small for that"

Janus let out an incredibly dramatic gasp while gripping his chest "The rudeness!! Baffling rudeness!!!"

“Yes. I took you here to surprise you with my rudeness”

They went on a path lined with trees until they got to a hill. The trees all but surronded the hill. Aside from some teenagers playing music far away they seemed to be some of the only people in the park.

Once they got to the top Logan pressed a kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek “Close your eyes” He murmured into his ear.

His cheeks immediately turned bright red “Well darling since you will now most definitely murder me I am glad your face will be the last thing I see!”

He stood in blindness for at least 3 minutes. His chest was bubbling over with excitement. He didn’t even realize he was shimmying his shoulders to happy stim.

“Alright. My honeysnake you may open your eyes” Logan’s voice was also filled with excitement.

Janus let out a small gasp as he looked. Logan had laid out a star embroidered blanket and sat with his legs crossed on it. He held out a bottle of red wine, his boyfriend’s favorite kind of course. He’d brought several different pastries. Jam drops shaped like hearts, a lemon pie, strawberry bars, 2 cupcakes one with frosting made to look like a snake and one made to look like an owl.

“Oh....” Janus was speechless for a moment before getting a smug smirk on his lips “I see that you’re going in the route of poisoning me through romantic food”

“I am estimating that you will continue with that joke all night, yes?”

“Correct” 

Janus cuddled up to his side. Logan took his hand and pressed a kiss to the top of it before handing him a glass of wine. They clinked their glasses together. The stars had started to come out.

He inspected each and every dessert in an incredibly dramatic fashion before taking a strawberry bar. As soon as he took a bite his eyes went wide.

"Darling which overworked soccer mom did you rob these from???"

Logan triumphantly pointed at himself "This overworked soccer mom. I bake even more than on a regular basis when I am stressed, and I have been experiencing a lot of stress lately"

He held onto his hand harder "My boyfriend senses did go off before. Do you want to talk about it? Or shall I simply push whoever is causing you the stress down a flight of stairs?"

"Oh I wish you would throw him down many stairs" Logan mumbled to himself. ".....It is....quite alright dear. I want this night to be a sort of distraction...for now please dont ask about it"

"My lips are sealed then...but not for the food!"

They cuddled together, ate and drank while looking at the stars. There were no clouds out. No wind. It was like the universe had wanted them to have a good night.

Janus pointed at each and every star constellation he could make out and made an intentionally horrible guess on what it was so Logan could infodump. His eyes were glimmering as he explained it. He looked so beautiful Jan wanted to kiss him endleesly.

“Okay...so..Andromeda was your favorite right?” Janus asked. He had jam on his lips from the sweets (crofters obviously) “Which one is it?”

Logan leaned close to his side and laid his hand on his boyfriend’s chin to move his head to see it “Right there. It’s brightest star is alpha andromedea”

Janus nodded along “Darling what constellation do you think suits me best?”

His expression turned incredibly serious. This was a life or death answer! “Well Patty’s favorite is ursa major aka big bear but you hmmmm Lacerta is a quite obvious once since it’s a lizard...but I think Horologium fits you better"

"Honey all I heard there was you saying ancient latin to summon a demon"

"It’s a pendulum clock! It fits you since they’re mysterious and" He gazed into his boyfriends eyes "They're also very pretty to look at"

Janus let out a pff while shoving his hand in Logan’s face to make him look away "Dork" He chuckled out as his cheeks heated up.

"Oh yes that reminds me"

He pressed a quick kiss to Jan's nose before scrambling around in his bag. He took out a long yellow plush snake. It had a black hat and a red tounge sticking out.

"This was for some reason on my doorstep a few nights ago. It reminded me of you so I thought you should have it"

Janus looked at it with wide eyes "Wait"

He took out a big blue owl plushie from his bag. It had a tiny bow and square glasses. It was incredibly fluffy for an owl.

“This was by my door as well!”

“I am sure there is a logical explanation for this! I am also sure you deserve a snake present”

They switched the plushies. Janus held the snake plushie in his hands and looked down at it’s big kind eyes. He grimaced.

“Darling...I uh already have a snake at home...and  it’s totally not like that owl reminds me of you and I’ve already grown attached to having it in my bed and imagining it’s you or anything...totally not”

Logan let out a breathe of relief “Oh yes! Honey I have been hugging that snake as if it’s my second lung. So I technically don’t need it but it does help me live!”

Janus hugged the owl plushie close to his chest while Logan put the snake around his neck like a scarf. Lo looked over to his boyfriend and got a small smile on his face.

“But my sweet honeysnake you can....slither into my apartement and into my arms whenever the plushie isn’t enough” He moved his hand to his boyfriend’s chin and leaned in. 

Janus flinched away, for a moment there was fear in his eyes.

“I am very sorry” Logan said “I was not intending to kiss you on your lips. I am aware of your boundaries and will not do it until you tell me you’re ready. I was going for your cheek”

“Sorry” He hid his face in the owl’s soft fur so his boyfriend wouldn’t see his embarrassment “I’m sorry”

“There is no reason to apologize here but I will accept your aplogy nonetheless”

Logan gave his boyfriend some time to gather himself, he knew how easily overwhelmed he got. He munched on some of the leftover pie. Janus sunk in on himself. 

“Can I tell you something?” Janus quietly asked while fiddling with the owl’s wing to keep himself calm.

“Of course hun”

“...I contacted Picani..and I have been talking to him. It-it’s only been 3 or so sessions and they’re only like 15 or 30 minutes. It’s barely anything. But I’d thought I’d tell you”

He glanced back up to Logan and was taken aback by the big goofy grin on his lips. It was so unlike him.

“Janus that’s great!” He threw his arms around him and pulled him into a hug so sudden they both nearly tumbled over “I’m so proud of you!”

It took a moment before Janus took it in. He shone up into a smile and leaned into the hug. His nose pressed against the slope of his boyfriend’s neck and the plushies got crushed between them.

"You just sounded uncannily much like Patty" Jan chuckled out.

“I can accept that!” He took his boyfriend’s hand while stimming with the other “Is the therapy helping you progress emotionally? Of course it’s alright if you haven’t yet, asking for help is well enough”

Janus leaned away from him, just a bit so Logan’s arms were still around him but they weren’t pressed against each other. He looked away to the stars and bit the inside of his cheek.

“It’s doing wonders! I don’t have tentacles sprouting out of my back anymore” He tried to joke but it didn’t sound happy “..It is helping...genuinely..It’s just....I think my family might not have been the best. THey weren’t abusive! Not anywhere close! So I am unsure if they really were bad at all, even if Picani says so”

“Oh honey” Logan said it so very softly “They don’t have to have been abusive, or mean to treat you bad. If they hurt you they hurt you. That’s all that matters”

He nodded “Right....right. May I vent about it?”

“Of course”

He moved his hand through the owl’s fur to keep him calm “My mom would comment on what I ate constantly. Anything I ate was too much for her since I already looked disgusting-”

“You don’t. Objectivly so”

“I- I know. But I still think about it every time I eat. And I worry about eating around other people, what if they think I’m gross”

“Then they’re objectivly an asshole and I will kick my knee into their chin. Including your mother!” 

“Logan no!”

“Logan yes!”

Lo knew he had succeeded when Janus let up into a laugh. 

“Oh it was horrible” Janus continued through the last small chuckles “Every time she forced me to go buy clothes with her I would get panic attacks from what she said about my body and I always hid it because I was afraid of what she would say. And the one time she heard me literally sobbing in a dressing room all she said was that I was overreacting and to hurry up”

Logan was very quickly forgetting that the kicking in face thing was supposed to be a joke “Mhm yes that does indeed sound astronomically horrible yes”

Janus wiped his hand over his eye as if to rub memories away “It was....I thought so much of it was normal..I didn’t know-”

“You shouldn’t have had to think like that in the first place”

“I know....I know...They made me feel so much shame...Before I even knew...Just hearing my dad talk about...people like me on the tv made me feel shame before I even fathomed the idea that I could like men”

He let up into another laugh. The kind of laugh that came when he remembered something so bad the only thing he could do to not cry was to laugh.

“I- I’d never heard my mom say anything about it so I tried coming out to her” He chuckled “It didn’t go well! I used a youtube video because I couldn’t physically say the word gay. And then she outed me to my dad behind my back and never told me! I found out through my aunt!”

Logan was moving away from a knee kick and instead thinking of bringing a baseball bat.

“And- And I should have known because right after when- we were on vacation and my dad- I was 14 I think maybe it’s blurry- I-I saw two men hold hands in public and I’d never- I felt so happy- I wanted to run up to them- I couldn’t stop staring and then..and then my dad moved his arm around my shoulders and pointed at them and he looked into my eyes and his voice was so steady” Janus’ eyes had stopped moving, they were staring out into thin air as if he could see it happening again “He told me that what the men were doing was wrong. That We didn’t like that. That it was disgusting. And then he forced me to walk away”

Janus’ hand was shaking as he gripped onto the plushie to keep himself present. Logan gently took one of his hands and pressed a kiss to it.

“You shouldn’t have had to hear that, ever”

“It feels so good to finally tell someone” He sighed “Aside from Picani I’ve held that to myself for so so long....It’s...It’s been so many years. Shouldn’t I be over this. The shame has gotten a bit better...but it’s still there”

“Honey, For how long have you lived without being in contact with those...those wretched humans made out of boiled together pieces of maggot bones?” Logan asked in a straightforward tone.

“Around 14 months? I think? It’s all so blurry. Me before and after meeting you totally don’t feel like 2 different people or anything”

“Mhm. How many times have you gone to therapy?”

“3 times”

“No human being can be expected to recover from several years of trauma, because it is trauma, in such a short amount of time. Especially with such a small amount of professional help” Logan said in a very agressive but somehow also loving voice while smacking his hand to the top of his boyfriend’s head to pat him.

Janus looked at him. He looked at the way he was trying so hard to comfort him in his own lovely way. Looked around at the stars lighting up their date. Looked at the leftover food his boyfriend had spent time to make just to share between them, because he never saw him as disgusnting no matter what he ate.

He let up into a smile before leaning forward so his and Logan’s foreheads were pressing against each other. He intertwined their fingers. He felt his boyfriend’s breathe against his nose. 

Oh he was so alive. He was holding hands with his boyfriend and he was so alive.

“I love you” Janus murmured out.

Logan shone up into a soft smile “I love you too”

He cupped Janus’ cheeks and leaned even closer. Their eyes met so perfectly. Logan could see the stars mirroring in his boyfriend’s eyes, like a small galaxy.

“And honey- Janus, you’re not perfect because none of us are and you shouldn’t feel the need to be perfect, but there is not a goddamn part of you you should ever feel ashamed of”

A warm feeling filled Janus’ chest. He leaned forward and kissed Logan.

His boyfriend’s lips were so soft against his, he closed his eyes and melted into the kiss. For a moment he didn’t even realize what he’d done, all he could think about was Logan’s warm hands against his cheeks and his lips that tasted like strawberries and coffee.

BUT OH BOY THEN JANUS REALIZED WHAT THE FUCK HE WAS DOING.

He practically flung away from Logan just as suddenly as he’d kissed him. His chest was rapidly heaving up and down as he gasped for breathe. He clasped his hand over his mouth.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t- I’m sorry- I should have asked you before- Sorry” 

Logan was tracing his fingers over his lips, as if he could barely even believe what had just happened “Honey dear sweetheart beloved you” He let out a small happy sound “I think I’ve made it quite clear I was Very ready for you kissing me whenever you wanted to”

“Oh- Oh okay. Phew”

“Your lips taste like crofters! This is amazing! A scientific miracle! I have to study your lips! In multiple ways!!”

Janus let up into a light laugh “Darling there was crofters in the jam drops you made. Of course I taste like crofters”

“hmm. Seems logical. Your lips are still from here on out classified as a scientific miracle either way”

“Can we...” Janus was full on grinning as he nervously asked “Can we kiss again? Please?”

Logan didn’t answer. He simply squeezed his boyfriend’s cheeks and kissed him. And kissed him. And kissed him. 

He kissed so hard they both tumbled over. Janus fell down on his back and Logan used his arms to not fall down on top of him. They looked at each other for a moment, cheeks flushed, lips red, eyes wide, and smiled.

Janus tugged at his boyfriend’s tie to pull him into another kiss. His hand was in his hair, the other on his lower back. His thigh was somewhere pressed against Logan’s ribs. All he could focus on was the feeling of his lips. It felt like electricity was going up and down through his body at hyper speed.

This wasn’t exactly Logan’s first rodeo so he noticed very quickly when Janus opened his eyes and started looking unsure. He quickly moved away and laid himself down beside him. His arm was laid out across his boyfriend’s chest and their hands were still intertwined.

“Sorry. This is totally not at all a lot to take in” Janus panted out “I only need a second and a spa bath to process it”

“That is alright dear” Logan was still grinning. His cheeks started to hurt from it. He let up into happy flaps “I have been waiting for this for approximately 12 months and I will have you know it was very worth the wait. You are a natural my love. The first time I kissed Patty I fell off a swing and broke my glasses immediately afterwards”

Janus giggled at his story. He clasped his mouth shut. The giggles sounded so unlike him. They were so light and loud, but he couldn’t stop giggling. It was like millions of small butterflies were finally leaving his stomach and were transforming right into giggles. 

They laughed together, their bodies pressed close together, as they looked up at the night sky. The tree tops outlined the galaxy above them.

“Darling it was a great night to take me star-gayzing” Janus chuckled out.

Logan stared at him as if he’d just thrown a watermelon into his eye “Was that a pun I heard?! I automatically despise you!”

“You love me! You said it!!” He giggled back.

“How do I keep ending up with pun makers. This is highly ridicolous!"

"Muhahaha. It is all in the plan deary!” Janus moved his arms around mysteriously “The great evil pun plan!"

“I’ll kiss you until you tell me all about it”

“Hard bargain, but I’ll surely manage”

Logan pouted while moving to press a kiss to his boyfriends collar bones. He kept littering kisses to his neck and cheek and nose until kissing him on the lips again.

He wished they weren’t in a public space so he could kiss his wonderful thighs, his stomach rolls, his shoulders, every stretch mark on his chest. So he could give him all the love he'd daydreamed about.

Janus looked at him with a sneaky grin and red cheeks "Would it be acceptable to try with tounge now?"

"Incredibly acceptabe"

He gently moved Janus so he sat on top of his hips. His hands were leaned on either side of Logan’s face. 

"Are you sure I’m not too heavy?" Janus mumbled out.

"Honey Patty is about the same size as you. I am Very used to having my pelvic crushed. In multiple ways"

Janus nodded and let up into a nervous smile. Logan moved his boyfriend’s head close and parced his lips. His hand rested against his cheek.

"You're beautiful. You're so incredibly beautiful" Logan murmured before brining him in for another kiss.

Hopelessly Bound

Summary: gaining the key to intimacy with Homelander is still going on. But more problems arise while you try to achieve the final goal.

Pairing: Homelander x CIA!Supe!Reader

Sequel to: Barrier

A/N: @darkmalice00 is the one to thank for this second part! I tried my hardest to get it to match the first one. Hope you like it!

Pushing your back against a couch you smelt the sweet smell of black tea with lemon juice. You only added a little bit of sugar, but it mostly had citric acid in it. Candle scented vanilla cookies took the place it was soothing, reminded you of being at grandma's. Heavy footsteps came before Mallory took a seat across from you. Stiring up her tea before sitting back and taking a sip. "Mission report," she commands to you. Taking sip of the naturally sweetened black tea you sat it down.

Inhaling before handing your hand out to her. She takes it with her slightly warm hands touching your upper arm. You shut your eyes and began to show everything. Relationships developed, what you saw in Homelander's mind, what you've heard. Everything centered around Vought.

But the hard part of memory sharing was the showing your mind walk. Mind walking hurt but combining it with memory share hurt even more. Flashes of the entire thing was taking energy out of you. At the final scene of it of Homelander submitting you pulled away. Gripping your head at the use of two powers at once, and yelped feeling blood tickle down your nose again.

Grace touched her head feeling half drained from that. "My goodness, I don't know how you can do it" she comments to you. Before pushing yourself back and wiping your nose. "My head throbbing at that. Do you want some aspirin?" She inquires to you heading over to get some. You shook your head at that. "Sometimes I forget how powerful you are. I've never met anyone with your abilities." She comments taking out the pills and popping two in.

Than sighed enduring your throbbing head. Felt like someone was squeezing it from the inside to the outside. It sucks for how much it hurts. "I usually drink a bit before it. Most of time I have some tequila beforehand. Numbs the pain, but I thought I could handle it without it." You remark with a sigh bringing your feet on to the couch and gazing down than felt a yawn.

Mallory sits back down doing the same. Sort of weird seeing her not in suits. Ever since her retirement things she switched from her suits to more comfortable clothes. Especially since she's been bird watching. "Good job, (Y/N), you gained access to his trust. Can you estimate when you can have the mind link with him?" She inquires taking a sip of her tea.

"Perhaps in a few weeks," you remark back.

"Good, I'll notify Butcher of the progress." She replies back to you. Boy, was this entire situation messy and like walking on egg shells. Mallory notices you face before sitting more forward at you. "This we've been waiting for. The official mission, I need you to remember (Y/L/N) you can't let them defeat you. You have a big heart, a good one. But I need you to remember, Homelander is a murder. You're helping the world by helping us take down this monster. Okay?" She inquires to you. Silently you nod at this. You had to remember this, and live by each of these words.

___

Bonding with Homelander was hard. It start out as simple things. Small talk evolved to more things. Than it evolved to joking and endless smiles. Than it just turned into an actual friendship sort of bond. Things were transforming rapidly at it was easier to access things with him, but harder. A sense of guilt sometimes overtook you at this entire scheme.

Each time you had to yell at yourself, he is a monster. Lab experiment that escaped, it still doesn't justify what he's damaged. How could it? People have died from his selfishness. None of his issues can excuse what hes become. He had a choice, and made it.

But soon enough it became different at the same time. Lingering long glances than that one time you said goodbye, sure it was a static shock but you felt it physically when you both realized your hands were stuck. But you couldn't let these advances affect you. Denying them was refusing the forbidden fruit and you knew that. Your like a black widow, but less epic, and didn't kill your spouse.

Your CIA training was rough, especially from your test. Thay made sure to throw anything rough at you, they made sure to give you the hardheaded attitude to withstand everything. They expected more from you because of the abilities, even going as far as to making you learn how to escape from a lot of things. The CIA and Mallory considered you climbing the ranks as soon as you graduated the academies. Your abitlies aided and they actually considered you intelligent in your very own way. Your scores with CIA test amazed them each time, and especially the physical test. A test with your power they had you create a mental link. Like always, they were blown away when you managed to do it successfully. Than came your first mind walk experience with a classified psychopath.

It was recorded, but what ended up happening you panicked. From all the darkness and the entirety of the fact inside of their head was a cyclone. But what they wanted you was to calm the psycho down for another case. You managed, but not without screeching like a banshee your head off and making the psycho as well. You ended up somehow breaking all the glass in a proximity.

Not that you had a sonic scream, no one had an explanation of what happened. Neither did you, but it happened and that was it. Binding almost made you rise to that level multiple times. You've only had that happened once, and it almost tore your entire vocals, ruining them. That would've made you voiceless, Mallory said once they would've codenamed you as Hush or something that meant voiceless. But little did you know it came to today.

Like any day, the Seven were out on a mission. Leaving you to do your normal task which meant digging for information. Until you saw from a nearby window people scrambling out of the place. Immediately your heart almost dropped to a deadly point, a cold sweat overtook you. Sprinting to the camera room, you saw lying on one of the floors was a the dead security. "Shit!" You hissed to yourself. Tapping your fingers rapidly you began to search through the cameras. Your eyes landed on a shooter. Everyone was either escaping or hiding. Until you spotted three hostages, "double shit." You hissed and began to search for any weapon. Outside of the office your eyes landed on a fire axe. "Screw my life apparently," you growled before taking it out.

Sprinting down multiple flights of stairs didn't make you break a sweat. CIA almost make you run until you vomit and keep going. Stealthy you began to make your way where you last saw the hostages. The Seven weren't here, and not everyone had the guts to fight. But you could rescue these civilians from a sick person despite them work for them.

But this reminded of you of one mission on a plane. Three of your teams were hostages, and you and another had to save them. But that missioned ended with you falling in the ocean, you were saved though by someone. But when they found you were halfway dead.

Not this time though. You planned on making it out alive and not near death. But fate wasn't the kindest person out there, was it? Than came where the Seven were done with there job, but to there surprised by Ashley, Vought International was under attack. Some crazed shooter blaming Vought came. Than came the recent call of them alerting you were fighting the shooter.

Somehow a screech of the person was muffled in the background. The minute they all heard your name, they all felt the world stop for a moment. Compared to Homelander, he felt the universe freeze for a brief moment. You were a fighter. But apparently the most selfless person in that place. And you were close to death.

Entirety of the whole situation changed in that exact moment. But everything turned inaudible as she talked about how Stillwell fine and most employees are okay, but that didn't matter. You were endanger and yet still decided to face it to save others instead yourself. As he began to march away he ignored how everyone began to pasture questions at him.

He ignored all of them before blasting off in the air. When he got closet enough to hear a screech of pain to where he felt a force launch him back somewhat. Glass broke on three different floors broke into billions of pieces. Landing in the moment he saw a bullet blasted in your left ribcage.

Weakly with blood pouring on your shirt you stumbled in shock before collapsing. On your face was blood pouring out like a river. Sweat and bags forming on your eyes. With your ears ringing from the damage you've caused with the mind walk, you lied defeated. The shooter cried than spotted Homelander who was in pure furious. What was scarier was the point he was thinking of nothing.

As if he was replaying the whole thing is his mind silently or was acting on wrath. In a millisecond you saw him take the throat of the shooter in his hand, and than laser eyes out. You saw the red beams break through the back of the guy's skull.

For a monster, he was very emotional. Drowsy greeted you, you wanted to shut your eyes in the brief moment. Homelander rushed over in a blink of an eye. For a moment you felt a sharp heat above the wound, as you passed out.

___

Paralyzed for a moment you felt awake. Were you in your astral projection form? Than forced yourself to shit, you felt weight. Nope, you were in your body still. Opening your eyes you forced yourself up. Around you was a four walled hospital room. With a bathroom on the side of it with a counter. You thought you were alone, than saw Homelander. Passed out on a chair by it. What time was it?

Seeing your clothes on a chair next to you, you felt almost stiff while starting to wake up your entire body. Grabbing your phone you turned the screen on, than saw it was nearly 6:30 and its been a day and a half. Than placed it back down to glance back at Homelander. He stayed? On a separate table on the other side was flowers.

Than a shark plush, immediately you smirked to yourself, that was the Deep's gift. So distinct compare to everyone else. Well, except Noirs. He put a card and a green tea latte mix with a new mug. Than Starlight's popped out, it was a cute card with a cartoon! But your gaze went back to the unconcious Homelander.

He stayed? Why? Did he actually care? Was he on to you? Was saving you for his benefit to find out who you actually were? Would he kill you after saving you? Or did he figure it out and plan on punishing you by forcing something out of you?

Debating within yourself you had to wonder. Did he genuinely care for you at this point? Was he more human now? As much as you wondered, you came to a conclusion. Both of you were the same at the end of the day. Lost, and eternally dark inside and hiding in the shadows. Difference was that you weren't a sociopath, you were just afraid of yourself and tried to do right.

Were you mad? Insane for caring and sympathizing with a sociopath? Why did you have to feel this way? Part of you wanted to shout for help to save you from loving a monster, but the other half felt scared for him. Could you save him? Could you actually save him from himself before it kills him?

All these raced before you. Than snapped at the sudden voice you heard. Your hair swayed as your head turned to the right. Part of it in your face at the sudden awaked Homelander. "Your awake" he yawned sitting himself up and stretching. "Its been a day and half. They took the bullet out. You surgery didn't take long thankfully, I was worried."

The last part made your heart swell. Why? You wanted to claw yourself apart, why was this happening? You were sinking down to him. This a disaster, and you liked it. Felt like a rush of adrenaline and freeing. You couldn't have whatever this is with him. You've never wanted something so bad, and you hated it. "You stayed here for me?"

His blue eyes flickered to you, your heart felt slightly warmed. "Yeah, I did." He said lowly to you sort of inching closer. This felt like magic. Why did it have to?

"Why?" You inquired awaiting his answer. You didn't use telepathy to hear his thoughts. You listened to his voice instead of his head.

He paused for a moment peering down at his hand before his gaze switched to you. "Because I was terrified." He states, for a moment you searched for a lie. But you couldn't help but feel yourself leaning in. "I was... scared for you."

"I'm okay now, no need to worry anymore." Warm, you felt a warm compare to his cold touch of his lips. He was so cool, you couldn't help passionately kiss him. Felt like magnets, magnetism of a force pulling you together. You loved how it felt as if water and fire came together.

Different forces of nature that are oil and water. And you loved it, just like how you felt with him at the moment. Not that it wasn't meant to be, well it sort of was. But you were seeing a different side of him from the cameras and the Boys. This humanity was hidden in him, no matter how much he tried to kill it. Brief moments he embraced it, and it was a different energy that was intoxicating. It was poison.

His venom was like a drug. But you wanted to escape the high but wanted to enjoy it. You couldn't help it though, as your heart swelled of how he made you feel. How he genuinely cared for you like a normal person. Half of you hissed how he wasn't normal though.

At that realization you wanted to cry, but refused the emotion. Hearing him laugh made you laugh in the moment as well, before kissing him again. This emotion inside of you that yearned for him was so addicting. Taking his upper arm to pull him closer, than felt a tether almost force.

Tether that was so tough like fiber strength. In that moment you blinked to feel a cool breeze than blinked your eyes open. In the moment you felt Homelander arm still in your grip. Than noticed the attire changed for both of you. Both of you pulled apart to see your world before.

On a cliff of bright green grass with mountain flowers everywhere. Sunshine that radiated warm all around. It was comforting but abive you was a lilac trees bloomed purple flowers. Pedals hitting you on your head. Near it down the cliff was a heliotropes. Both of you glanced around the place realizing where you were. "What the?" You hear Homelander say. "Where are we? Can you teleport?"

You shook your head at pure shellshock of what was happening. "I can mind walk.." you say lowly. "Mind walk, I think both of our minds clashed together. This has never happened..." you state. As he pulled from you than you saw.

He wore a black version of his suit with only white on it somewhat. Than you had a white sundress with red floral prints on it. "Its beautiful here..." he responds turning to you. Warmly you smiled surprised of how he was taking it. "Your mind alerting," he comments. Electricity was in his eyes perhaps from the intensity of both of your emotions? "Your incredible" he says pulling you back into one. Before feeling heart in a sharp pain the moment. For something that feels so right, it so painful, why? "I think I love you." John says in that moment pressing his temple against yours. Light tears came down your face that he didn't notice.

Sucking in a breath to gain to courage. Despite feeling all the butterflies in your stomach. "I think I love you too." You remark in a whisper.

___

Marching to Mallory's place after you were discharged from the hospital was so emotional for you. Crying you explained to her the entire situation. You showed her through your memory of everything. How he saved you, how he stayed by you. How he submitted to you. She congratulated on the mission complete on mind linking, now you have a official bond with Homelander. But to her shock, it deeper now that your both in love. You wasted no time quitting, and packing everything in your apartment. Luckily there wasn't much.

Your new mission was here. Stay with Billy Butcher and help them take the supes down. Much to how your heart ached at how you had to disappear from the face of the Earth. Despite only have Starlight left of the Seven no matter how much you'll miss the rest. They were broken people, in a broken place. Mainly Homelander.

Mallory cooked up a excuse to leave, one without you having to die. As you unpacked a couple of your things in a pair of a red wine colored tank top with a pair of black cargo pants. Billy sat on his couch contemplating why Mallory commanded him to let you stay with him. He pastured you with questions before the entire thing.

Yet you and Mallory agreed not to tell him why the mission was complete and what happened in between. Butcher would kill you, you had to keep it a secret. His thoughts were so loud compare to him vocally. Submitting and telling him the truth was hard, but you have to hide it from him.

Much to his dismay of knowing there was more to it than just a simple mission complete. But as you unpacked you couldn't help but have your heartache at thought of John. How he kissed you, how you felt. Like fine wine, it felt great but you knew you shouldn't. Scrubbing off your mind from him won't happen. Running away won't fully work without you yearning for him still.

Out running him wasn't possible either. His face was everywhere. Time to stop thinking about going backwards. You pulled out a silver necklace that was small. Middle of the small knot with a "J" in the center of it. No matter how much you were in love with him it was doomed. Doomed love that was hopelessly bound to happen. Allowing this disaster to happen was stupid, but too late to fix. No matter how much you felt in love with him. Like Butcher would say, if he did know, don't be a lovesick cunt.

"Do you want to get a drink later at the pub later? Watch one of the games?" He inquires to you as you hide the necklace again. Than hold a book in your hand.

"Yeah, that'll be nice after dealing with those supes" you remark with a light laugh. He returned to back to you. Ignore the forbidden fruit, now matter how you like the feeling of being in love. No choice but to move forward until all of this is finally done.

Light the Pyres |Strike| - SUNGYOON

Based off the Burn It mv? Yeah I know it was like five months ago but whatever. Writing this honestly hurt me so I’m sorry if you’re reading it <3

(But no, really. This is a heavier and bloodier story. If this isn’t for you, please don’t read!)

Pairing: Sungyoon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: angst, bits of fluff, apocalypse!au

Triggers: cursing, death, side character commits suicide (no mention of suicidal thoughts though), semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 3.8k

As the world burns its last goodbyes, you find a jewel amidst the ashes.

Strike >> Next: Light

Golden Child Masterlist

“It’s insane, isn’t it?” You pace around your dorm. “I can’t believe it went so wrong. Not to say that I ever agreed with the testing in the first place, but –”

“I know.” Your mother sighs into the phone. “Anyone would’ve thought such a project would be handled carefully, no? It’s a miracle anyone survived at all.”

You sit on the edge of your bed. “I’m just glad you’re safe,” you say. “When I heard the shaking could be felt even from home…”

She laughs, soft and gentle in a way that sends a pleasant warmth tickling down your spine. God, you love hearing your mother’s laugh. “I’m fine, Y/N.” You can almost hear the smile in her voice. “I appreciate you checking in on me, but I’m perfectly fine. We had a few tremors, that’s all. No one is hurt.”

“Yeah, I know, I know.” You smile. “I have to go to class now, but stay safe, okay? I’ll see you this winter break, I promise.”

“I’m counting the days, darling. I love you and miss you.”

“Same here, Mom.”

You press your head against the car window as Daeyeol speeds down the empty highway. It’s been months since that call, months since the test bomb failed, mutating the few who survived into flesh-eating shades of their human selves.

Of course, no one knew it then. The survivors were rushed to a nearby hospital for treatment and when they first woke up, there were no signs of abnormality besides some slightly shrunken pupils.

Then veins blackened, skin paled, and they attacked.

One infected hospital turned into an entire city. The few who managed to escape tried to spread the news, but no one believed them. Only a couple of the smallest news outlets, looking for a good scoop, related the stories of the shaking survivors of what they called a zombie apocalypse. Unbelievable, right?

Not so much when one zombie made its way into an otherwise healthy city and began biting people in full daylight.

Only a few states away, your mother was living her life when the government imposed a strict lockdown. No one was to leave their home. Certain stores would be open on certain days, and blocks would be allowed to shop at certain times. Otherwise, stay at home and do not go outside.

She called you that day and every day after until communications shut off. On the other side of the country, you panicked when your calls stopped going through, when your texts only rebounded with an “unable to send – try again” message that made you want to smash your phone against the ground.

Until several days later, in the middle of a class no one was paying attention to, she picked up.

Your professor doesn’t even blink an eye as you run out of the room, already halfway to tears. “Oh my God, Mom –”

“Darling, we don’t have time.” You can hear the cracks in her voice. “So many cities nearby have been overrun already, and we can’t use internet or even power anymore because we need to conserve. I don’t know how your call managed to go through.”

“I thought you were dead.” You slide to the floor, back pressed against the wall as you try hard not to cry. “Mom, I –”

“No, I’m alive.” She laughs, but there’s a frightened edge to it that you’ve never heard before. It feels like being doused with cold water, horrible – your mother, the woman who raised you so fearlessly in the wake of her husband’s death, is scared.

You can barely comprehend it.

“I’m alive, Y/N.” A tiny sniffle on the other end. “I just want you to know that I love you very much. I always will.”

“I love you too, Mom.” A tear trickles down your face. “I love you. I’m going to come for you, okay? I’ll come. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll come for you.”

No reply. You look down at your phone, only to realize the call’s disconnected with no way for you to know how much your mother heard of your last words.

You haven’t been able to call her since, not with her power completely cut off and your university going on lockdown just a couple of weeks later. But it doesn’t matter. When rumors that a wave of flesh-eating non-humans was going to hit your city soon, you rented a car with Daeyeol and set off for home, driving in a direction from where no zombies had come.

You’re pretty sure the rental owner knew you had no intention of returning the car, judging from the thin press of his lips as you handed over your card. He softened, though, when you slid into the driver’s seat. “Good luck,” he’d said.

That bit of luck seems to have paid off. After weeks of alternately walking and driving, weeks of crippling paranoia and sudden attacks, neither you nor Daeyeol has been bitten. You might be dehydrated, half-starved, and ready to collapse at any given moment, but at least you have no shrunken pupils, no blackened veins, and no hunger for flesh.

Daeyeol’s voice cuts through the car tires jostling on the road. “All right?”

“Mm.” You nod slightly, head still pressed against the window. A tiny smirk widens your cracked lips. “Still alive.”

It’s morbid. So many people you know or knew have died, probably more than you realize, so it maybe isn’t the best move to joke about being alive. But it makes Daeyeol smile, even if it’s more of a smirk than a real smile, and after everything that’s happened, you both need a reason to laugh every so often.

“Same here,” he says, words cracking slightly with disuse. His voice used to be smooth, sweet with his singer’s tones, but it’s all faded over days and weeks of silence.

Don’t exactly want to attract a horde of zombies for the sake of a bit of song.

His voice breaks you out of depressing thoughts again. “Get some sleep,” he says, glancing over. “We’ll stop at sundown.”

“Cool.” You stretch slightly, yawning. “I guess I’ll drive through the night?”

“If we don’t break down by then.” As if on cue, the motor sputters, nearly launching you forward, but thankfully, the car doesn’t stop just yet. Daeyeol sighs. “Halfway there,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

“Halfway there,” you echo as another faded highway sign flashes past. After nearly two months of travel, you’re over halfway home.

You let that thought comfort you into an uneasy sleep.

. . . . .

“Shit.”

You wake up to Daeyeol’s curse and the sputtering sound of the engine. He’s gone off the highway since you fell asleep, now trying to start the choking car on a street in what looks like it used to be a city. As you blink the sleep out of your eyes, he presses down on the accelerator, hard. The car jerks forward for a second, then stops.

Daeyeol groans. “We didn’t even make it to sundown.”

Sure enough, the sun still hasn’t fallen. From the beat up watch on your wrist, you estimate an hour or so before dark. Probably enough time to try and take a crack at fixing the engine or whatever’s gone wrong with the car.

“I’ll take a look.” You rub your eyes. “See if it’s something I can fix. Stay close, I might need your help.”

After years of growing up beside your mechanic mother, mechanical engineering was a no-brainer when you entered university. Since then, your technical skills have grown a little rusty when it comes to repairing cars (hey, not a lot of people drove around your college town), but in the months after the explosion, you’ve had to relearn those skills fast.

You don’t dare roll up your sleeves, not even in the heat of the afternoon sun and the warmth radiating off the engine. If a zombie comes out of nowhere, your layers are the only chance of surviving a bite. 

Wincing at the memory of your first close call, you start poking around the engine. It isn’t smoking, which is good, but something rattles when you tap at it with a wrench.

Great.

Sweat pours down your face as you fiddle around with the engine. A few bolts are loose – how you didn’t notice when you first took the car, you don’t know – but you tighten them carefully as the sun sinks lower in the sky. “Hopefully that’s it,” you mutter before pulling the hood down. Even in such an empty place, the small thunk makes you flinch, looking around for zombies to come pouring out of nowhere.

Nothing happens. You sigh in relief, plucking the keys from Daeyeol’s hand. “Let’s see if it works.”

It does. After an initial sputtering, the car moves forward. Reflexes keep your mouth shut before you can whoop, but you settle for a satisfied sigh as you beckon Daeyeol into the car, his eyes smiling in a way that’s become rare in the past month.

Then –

A shout.

A bang.

You freeze, one hand on the wheel.

Gunshots.

Daeyeol’s already opening his door, eyes wide with worry as someone screams and the familiar sound of dead groaning fills the air. “Come on,” he says, his tone booking no room for argument. “Let’s go.”

He’s too kind. Too selfless. As you run behind him, pulling out the gun holstered at your own waist, you try to push down the urge to drag him back to the car and just drive away from the growing screams and groans.

But Daeyeol is your best friend, one of your two last anchors to his barren earth. You may not have the same selfless streak that he does, but you’ll follow him into danger and watch his back if it’s the last thing you do.

Someone like Daeyeol deserves that much and more.

Following the noise, you sprint between two buildings, tall and dirty and abandoned. Broken glass crunches under your feet as you turn a corner –

And come face to face with black veins and white faces, pupils shrunken in death.

Whirling away from bloody, grasping hands, you club the first zombie over the head with the butt of your gun. It falls. Bang. Dead. You twist around the mass of stilted limbs and race after Daeyeol, yelling for him to slow down as you run into the fray.

Bang. Bang bang bang. Gunshots lead you into a space between four buildings where the ground opens up to reveal what probably was a subway. A horde of zombies claws at a tall bus stranded in the square, a lone man standing on top.

Him. Your eyes zero in on the tall figure, gun in hand that he aims at the zombies. There are too many, though, even if there don’t seem to be more coming.

Daeyeol scrambles on top of an abandoned car. You quickly follow. The man hasn’t caught sight of you just yet, still focused on avoiding zombies that get too close. There’s only a matter of time before they sense your presence and start chasing you instead.

Think. Think!

“You pick them off,” you gasp. “Pick them off from here.”

He nods. “Watch the back. Help me if I run out.”

You turn around. Back to back, you raise your guns, aim, and begin to fire.

Your gunshots and the allure of more meat turn deadened eyes and bloody mouths your way. Trampling over their shot companions, they lurch over to your car, stumbler closer even as you pick them away.

One. Two. Three. Each of your last thirteen bullets has to make a difference. Gritting your teeth against the smell of rotting flesh that still makes you gag even after so many weeks on the road, you shoot down another zombie that’s gotten too close and lock eyes with the man still standing on the bus roof.

The horde has thinned. The groaning has decreased. Zombies still claw at the roof, but if he jumps far enough and runs fast enough, he’ll make it.

“JUMP!” you scream, another bullet embedding itself into a head caked in dried blood. Three bullets left. “NOW!”

An uncertain glance. Daeyeol shoots away another clawing hand and glares at his still figure. “JUMP!”

He jumps.

Lands.

Pitches onto the ground.

Not far enough.

Zombies lurch forward, rotting arms reaching for the man who’s still scrambling to stand. You want to scream. He isn’t going to make it, all of this was for nothing, you’ve wasted ten bullets – eleven, now, as another tears into a zombie head – on a rescue mission that’s going to fail –

Daeyeol jumps down from the car and fires a last shot that goes haywire before grabbing the man and literally dragging him forward, narrowly missing a lurching zombie.

“DAEYEOL!” You jump from the car, kicking away a clawing hand. “YOU FUCKING IDIOT –”

He begins to turn, helping the man stumble forward. Something’s happened to his leg. Your eyebrows furrow – God, you’re going to have words with Daeyeol about putting himself in unnecessary danger when you all are out of this – as you grab at one of the stranger’s arms, dragging him across the bloody square.

All facing the same direction, none of you notice several leftover zombies creeping up from behind.

Daeyeol yells. His hand releases the stranger’s wrist and you watch in disbelief as skeletal, bloody hands drag him backward.

You scream. Fingers fumble for your gun that still has two rounds left, two rounds, more than enough –

But Daeyeol is already staring in disbelief at the blood seeping through a prominent bite mark on the top of his arm that’s beginning to turn black.

No.

No.

No!

Letting go of the stranger with a shriek, you raise both hands and shoot away the zombie still hanging onto Daeyeol’s shoulder. But you have only one bullet left in your gun and there are several zombies lurching towards you and it doesn’t even matter because Daeyeol’s been bitten, you’ve made it halfway home already and he’s been bitten –

Disbelieving eyes meet yours. Something crumbles in his expression and in his gaze you see everything – pain, horror, care, love, determination, resolve.

“Go,” he chokes, stepping backward directly into the path of the remaining undead. “Go!”

Tears blur your vision. “Daeyeol –”

“TAKE HIM AND GO!”

Dimly, you register a hand closing around your trembling wrist, dragging you back, away from your best friend of over twenty years, away from one of your last anchors to life. Gunshots tear through the air and you blink in time to see two of the zombies fall, Daeyeol gritting his teeth as he pulls the trigger on his gun again. And again.

He locks eyes with you once more. His gaze shines with twenty years of friendship and memories as he steps backward over and over, luring the last zombies away.

His instructions pound through your head. Go. Go. Take him and go.

Take him and go!

Your mind screams to stay but your body turns traitor, latching onto the stranger’s arm and stumbling between buildings, back in the direction of the car. He doesn’t move fast but you drag him along, shoes crunching glass and bricks and dried blood.

Something turns your head back in time for the last shot. It doesn’t split a zombie’s skull.

Instead, you watch the muzzle of Daeyeol’s gun fall away from his temple as he collapses to the ground.

Dead.

Dead. Dead. Your best friend is dead. Dead. Dead. Daeyeol is dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead dead dead dead your best friend is dead dead dead Daeyeol’s dead dead dead he’s dead dead dead dead dead he’s DEAD HE’S DEAD –

With a burst of strength you didn’t know you had, you haul the stranger forward to the car still parked on the street. Tossing open the passenger door, you shove him in, then throw yourself into the driver’s seat.

You jam the key into the ignition, turn it and hear the engine sputter to life. Instinct alone moves your limbs, foot pressing down on the gas, hands clenching the wheel so hard your knuckles burn.

Tears stream down your face as you drive into the setting sun.

. . . . .

The car dies ten miles down the road. Far enough to escape straggling zombies.

Not far enough to escape bloody memories.

You curse loudly, slamming a hand on the steering wheel as if it’ll do anything (it won’t. You don’t need two degrees in mechanical engineering to have that measure of common fucking sense). Next to you, the boy remains quiet, barely looking over as you hit the wheel again. And again.

It doesn’t bring Daeyeol back.

Still, you give the steering wheel one more whack before throwing open the car door to kick the vehicle in the side once. Twice.

“Don’t injure yourself.”

Ah. So he speaks. Mystery boy’s voice is a little higher than you expected. If you’d met him before the apocalypse, you might even say it was smooth. Nice. Like a singer’s.

Like Daeyeol’s.

You kick the car a third time, insides writhing.

And you hate it.

It’s irrational, of course, fully irrational. He hasn’t done anything to earn your anger. It’s probably not his fault he got cornered by a horde of zombies. It definitely isn’t his fault Daeyeol has – had – Jesus Christ, you can’t think of him in the past tense, your knees are already going wobbly and the tears are coming again – a stupid selfless streak that ultimately got him killed –

But how dare he speak. How dare he use his voice to warn you not to injure yourself when Daeyeol is the one who should be sitting there saying that. Daeyeol should be the one telling you to take care of yourself when the anger, the stress, the sheer enormity of the world and your own insignificance in the grand scheme of the universe start getting to your head.

If this boy hadn’t been in trouble, Daeyeol would still be here. He’d be here, alive, and though you’d still be stuck ten miles down the fucking road, at least he wouldn’t be dead. Dead because he sacrificed himself for a guy caught in the middle of a zombie horde on top of a fucking bus whom neither of you even knows.

With the last of your strength, you slam the car door shut before you say something you’ll regret. Sinking down on the dirty, empty highway, you close your eyes and take a shuddering breath.

You don’t cry. You just sit there, eyes staring into the darkness of your closed lids. There’s no telling how much time passes until a car door opens and shuts.

There’s a soft grunt. A gasp of pain. Then a presence settles itself on your side of the car, hovering over your still body.

Your fists clench. Unclench. It’s not his fault. Not his fault. Not his fault, not his fault, not his fault –

You open your eyes to stare flatly at the boy standing over you. “Yes?”

He flinches. It must have come out more accusatory than you wanted. You don’t do anything, though, only stare as he keeps standing, leg shifting awkwardly.

Not shifting. You lower your gaze, narrowing your eyes at his trembling limbs. Your mind flashes back to him jumping off the bus, the noise with which he landed, the way he was limping slightly as first Daeyeol, then you dragged him away.

He’s injured. No bones broken since he can still support his weight, but maybe a fracture. Something you don’t have the capacity to heal with anything but time.

Time that you don’t have.

“I…” He swallows. “I wanted to thank you. For helping – saving me.”

For some reason, that rubs you the wrong way.

“Don’t thank me.” Your voice slices the air, bitterly caustic. “Thank my friend. He’s the one who wanted to help.” You look away. “You know, the one who’s dead.”

He flinches again, hard enough to stumble backward. Only the car keeps him from falling over. A pang of guilt hits at your sharp words, but anger and grief for Daeyeol keep it at bay. “You can stay the night,” you say, still averting your gaze. “Take the backseat. Not like I’ll be driving any fucking further.” You stand and kick the car again, this time leaving a dent in the rusty metal. “Gonna have to go back to walking…”

Walking.

Your mouth goes dry.

This is the first time you’ll be walking alone. No Daeyeol to watch your back, no knowledge that someone who’s known you for over twenty years will be at your side. That’s gone, all of it. Gone with his death.

The thought ices your veins. You just want to curl into a ball and cry. But that’s not an option, not with this mystery boy enclosed in the same space as you, so you just throw open the door and slide back inside. He follows a little more cautiously, gingerly entering the car and closing his door softly before sitting in the back.

You sigh. “Close it fully.”

He blinks up at you in the grimy rearview mirror.

“Close the door fully,” you snap. “If a zombie manages to get in because you didn’t close it properly, we’re both fucked.”

It stings a little to be so rude, especially when he only opens the door again like you said and shuts it with more force. But nothing changes the fact that Daeyeol died for him, a person he didn’t even know, and that this boy is the reason why Daeyeol isn’t sitting next to you in the passenger seat, his silent, familiar presence comforting you into sleep.

A tear blinks out of your closed eyes. Why? you want to scream. Why did he do it? Why did he always want to help everybody, even if he knew it might come at the cost of his own life?

You know the answer. Humanity. Daeyeol told you every time you asked, every time you had another brush with death to save anyone you could. He had to keep faith, had to believe that there was something, anything he could do to alleviate some of the pain brought on by this tragedy.

It’s why you always admired him, were so loyal to him from the day you two first became friends in elementary school. Daeyeol always believed in strength that comes from kindness, believed in helping those who couldn’t always help themselves. It’s why you always followed him into the fight, regardless of how much you wanted to shove him back in the car and just drive away.

Bitterness lodges in a lump in your throat.

So much for humanity when all that kindness just got him killed.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for Daeyeol’s soul :/)

Any interesting world-building tidbit that wasn't included in your tales? This is a very interesting world you've got

I have three major bits that I desperately wanted to include in the story but never could find the right moment for. 1. (This hilarious dialogue snippet from Gaster and Alphys that never made it into the story but I decided was too funny to not save.) Alphys: (laying on floor) I’m nothing. Not a scientist. Useless. I’m just garbage. Gaster: (glances down at her briefly, looking thoughtful).... you’re recyclable. Alphys: !?!?!?!?!?? 2. I wanted to better explore the area below Waterfall, the deep pits that all the falls plunge down into, where once Alphys stood and considered throwing herself down into. The concept of it was a sort of transformation for Alphys and Undyne. They return to this place that might have been a place of tragedy, and they make it the start of something amazing. The cliffs below were riddled with caves and openings, an entire city carved straight into the rock, with grand staircases that lead down, and elevators that see a lot of use for those who don't want to walk (or can't). Can you imagine the place? Beautiful caves where every window opens up to the underside of the cascading, thundering waterfalls. And because they had hundreds of years to develop it all, the Lower City had gardens and fascinating landmarks to visit, a gallery devoted entirely to the art of Alphys' favorite animes (and oh boy were there some truly gorgeous works there. For some reason there was also a portrait of Mettaton as God and Alphys as Adam in a lovely oil painting that is a sort of imitative transformation piece of Michelangelo's very famous "The Creation of Adam". Nobody really knows who painted it, nor why, but the gallery director informed the public that it was donated anonymously as a gift to commemorate the gallery's Grand Opening.) Because Undyne had a huge part in the City's inception, there ended up being several small schools for various physical activities such as: Wrestling, Ballet, Clogging, Modern Dance, Taekwondo, Spear fighting, Sword fighting, and Water Aerobics. Also one very tiny school for Piano that consisted of Undyne herself and whoever she was teaching to play at their lessons three times a week. Down below are the Depths, the deepest and darkest part of the Underground's caverns. A massive lake that the falls plunge into. Most of its life has been spent without light of any kind, and even now it's still very shadowy. The Lower City of the cliffs sort of spills out between waterfalls to drift around the shore of the lake. But even 300 hundred years later it hasn't all been explored and the Lower City hasn't expanded much more (even with the Underground populous trying their best to spread out, they can't possibly fill every space. I'm working with an upper limit of 1,400-2,000 monsters total in the Underground, with a lower limit of 322 for the souls visible coming from Asriel in the game when he breaks the barrier. Due to the fact that Ghost Monsters were excluded from the soul snatching event, and the fact that there is literally no way to estimate how many spiders are in the Underground, both have been excluded from this counting.) At the far end of the dark lake a lonely outpost sits, home to a very very few monsters who either prefer the total solitude and darkness, or have come there for reasons of science. To study the pools of super-heated water and geysers, or the aquatic life somehow managing to thrive in the pitch black lake that is swimming with garbage from humans and monsters alike, or even geological strata that possesses very interesting formations this far down. There are numerous guidelines in place that prevent Monsters from staying at the Outpost for more than two months at a time for Mental Health concerns. Both Royal Scientists tried (separately) to use their position to override this rule. Undyne was sent to retrieve Alphys and bodily carried her back despite protests, and Queen Toriel herself came to order Gaster back to the Upper Underground (there were fireballs thrown before he finally gave up). 3. And finally, I actually fully intended to have a scene in the story where Sans demanded that Gaster tell him exactly how long they spent trapped down there, after all, he's the only one who kept track of it if you recall. But I completely spaced it when it came to writing those last few scenes. So I'll tell you my final calculations here. We know that Determination had a strange effect on the magic of the Barrier. Whenever a Reset happened, time in the Underground would move a tiny bit slower than time outside. The time spent inside the Barrier, counting both the truly ridiculous amount of time wasted in resets by both the Human and by Flowey, as well as the 300 years afterward that this story covers, comes somewhere around the area of 51,967,952,715 years. Or Fifty One Billion, Nine Hundred and Sixty Seven Million, Nine Hundred and Fifty Two Thousand, Seven Hundred and Fifteen. An insane amount of time. What’s my explanation for how the minds of various characters remained intact? Well, Gaster spent long long periods of time sleeping. He wasn’t fully himself yet as his assistants hadn’t managed to collect enough pieces of him. So unstable and having a warped perception of time kept him from actually going insane, instead letting him sleep for centuries at a time. Sans actually didn’t start to become fully aware until quite a long ways into the resets, and then spent a while trying to figure out what was going on, fought with everything he could for a while in endless genocide routes, and then eventually lost hope entirely and sort of... went on automatic for a long time before he woke up enough to change something (a single question was all it took). And Flowey stayed in a similar state for thousands of years, quietly repeating the exact same conversations, the same actions, the same patterns. The only times he was even aware enough to notice the passage of time was when something new happened. These are not in any way realistic ways of reacting to such a vast period of time. From what science we understand about the brain, it would barely last more than a couple hundred years at the very most, but probably less than that. And that’s if you can keep it in perfect condition without any decay. Memories would begin to go long before that, only fragments remaining and the brain keeping only what is relevant to you now. But lots and lots of old stories depict supernatural and magical beings as sleeping for centuries in forgotten temples, under castles, in sealed magical caverns, in caves on beds of treasure, and a thousand other variances. So I wanted to explore that in the way of a part of the Monster Soul that would act as a self defense mechanism to the Mind of the Monster who was somehow living and living and living without possibility of dying and needed to be able to stay sane throughout that. So it either makes them sleep, or in severe circumstances it can put them on a sort of automatic mode where they repeat a sequence ad infinitum. Both have their roots in folklore, but the way it works is my own interpretation of the idea. Outside the barrier, however, is a different story. The full total of time that has  passed out there is 10,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000. Known as Duotrigintillion, or also as one Googol. While the Underground got slower and slower and slower, the rest of the Universe continued on at its usual pace. The planet earth was destroyed by the Sun going into its Red Giant Phase, and then it became a White Dwarf. Then a Black Dwarf. Galaxies and super-galaxies went slowly dark, matter was dissolved or eaten by black holes, even black holes eventually began to decay due to Hawking Radiation. And because the light, garbage, and air being let into the Underground were the exact same stuff that was being let in at the beginning and was just on repeat forever, the Monsters never noticed. It was only when a run went on a little longer than usual, when the Barrier started trying to correct itself by syncing up time again, when you could see the darkness beyond. A darkness without stars and without life. Only cold and shadow, forever. The absolute and inexorable Heat Death of the Universe. Is it the only Universe in the Multiverse that has lived its full possible lifetime from beginning to end? Possibly. Ink would know. Whatever the case, its certainly a very very old Universe indeed (It probably is one of several branches off the original Universe, a stray timeline become a Universe in its own right).

Sticking Points

There comes a point in every man’s life where he is forced to introspection, to take stock of the sum of his life’s work and reckon with the choices that led him to present circumstances. Granted, most men seized the initiative sometime before their death, but then again, no one ever accused Nicoló of overachieving. Being the third son came with certain advantages: the freedom to fuck, fight, and be a nuisance in general without being a disappointment to anyone in particular.

He blames it on this that he doesn’t stop to consider what in God’s name he is doing until around death ten. 

He’s got the man pinned down, grip slackening by the moment as he makes a desperate effort to stay upright. It was embarrassing to get his throat slit again, more fool he, because despite all evidence to the contrary he can be a quick study, he just rarely finds a subject worthy of the effort. 

With the hard earned wisdom of one throat slitting already under his belt, he estimates he can hold out another ten seconds before he collapses and is, with the determination of one yet to realize that he’s got all the time in the world, intent on getting as much of his blood as possible into the other man’s eyes before then. 

Admittedly, Nicky got his sword into the pagan’s stomach a few minutes back, but after the scalping thing he thinks he’s earned this extra bit of spite. 

It’s hard to tell through the blood and blood-loss, but he thinks he sees the other man’s eyes go glossy mere moments before he too surrenders to the dark. A small victory, perhaps, but he can’t get the big ones to stick. 

He smiles into this death, a regrettable decision that causes him to awaken with a mouthful of his own blood, sputtering against the man’s cheek. The superiority of looming over the infidel as they died is hampered by the discomfort of waking up collapsed on top of him like a spent lover; their sweat, piss and blood mingle together. 

They have been spared the finality of death, but not the indignities of it. 

He flops onto his back, instinctively dragging his sword out of the temporarily-still-dead man’s stomach as he rolls. It’s a losing game to expect that this will be the time the infidel commits to expiry so Nicoló doesn’t bother to hope for it; optimism is needed more where the battle continues to rage on the other side of the city. Movement is still difficult. Whoever said all knowledge is worth having had never felt their windpipe reconnecting, so during the pause the universe strong-arms him into reflection.

It’s like this: 

Blood runs hot, and Nicoló had enough calefaction for a lifetime three weeks back. In large quantities blood dries slow enough to be simultaneously sticky and crusty, only to go on and dye your clothes a deep red that absorbs even more heat. He’s tired, nothing hurts but everything should, and he frankly doesn’t know if he’s been saved or cursed but he’d rather explore the issue after a long bath.

His ruminations on the likelihood of the Pope being utterly full of shit are interrupted by his arms being hacked off and his throat slit again , which is getting so tedious that when he comes back he can’t even muster up any anger about it. He’s sure it’ll come later, but right now he’s too parched to care. 

“Your sword is as dull as your wit,” he says peevishly in Greek, examining the jagged muscle tears. He’s coming rather rapidly to the conclusion that the man is probably not a demon— it seems unlikely that an emissary of Satan would be similarly covered in his own insides, but he is, undisputedly, an asshole.

An asshole who is suffering from the same fundamental problems as Nicoló, in order of importance: heat, hunger, and deathlessness. 

Armistices have been built on less.

Read more on A03 (M, 4,605)

Tags: Teen and Up Audiences, Major Character Death, M/M, Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime, Dreadwing/Optimus Prime, Optimus Prime, Dreadwing (Transformers), Skyquake (Transformers), Post-Predacons Rising (Prime Movie), Canonical Character Death, dead characters meeting in the afterlife, Mutual Pining, Enemies to Lovers, speed version, First Kiss, DreadOP Day Word Count: 3148 Summary:  Deep in the Well, Optimus runs into a familiar face. Twice over, in fact. Notes: DreadOP Day, you say? 👀 No way I wasn’t going to put something together for this.

---

Heat.

Like the friction experienced by a meteor hurtling down, destined to expire, Optimus flew into the light at the center of his world and felt welcome.

His Autobots had stood under many foreign stars and held under lights curious, interrogative, and revealing, but he knew none would ever hold such presence or penetrate so deeply as the one they all emerged from. It sunk into the seams between plating, prying and leveraging until the gaps yawned and with a click, the excess plating fell away.

And he was a protoform again: delicate mesh and wires and struts exposed to the impossible light. It was in him, sinking between the atoms of his body until they shivered and shook, dancing away from each other. Metal melted, edges dulling and structures collapsing, and drop by drop Optimus felt it all fall away, one billion beads sprinkling away like shards of glass in a night sky.

There was no pain. Not here. Optimus stepped out of his body while it was still partially solid and let all of it fall away, into an abyss he could not see against the light.

And from there he had no way to tell which direction was which, or if he was still moving. All he knew was light, to such an extent that it took him another moment to realize he was seeing it, that even without a body the world around him persisted. He pressed in on himself, felt it out. He considered his name. Time passed, as he explored the boundless confines of his new existence, and he considered for a time whether he might try to close his eyes, or let the light pull him micron by micron into eternity.

As it turned out, he did not need to worry so much about his choice. Time finished passing (which, if he recalled correctly, was not in the nature of the thing, and yet) and he saw a point, what he could only describe as a single unit of contrast against the light. Its darkness grounded him, reminding him who he was and where he had come from (though not for how long he had been away) and he endeavored to draw himself to it by mechanisms it did not occur to him to consider closely.

It was a point, then a spot, then a dot. It developed variation in its tone, darker splotches on the bottom that developed into shadows, its squirming edges sharpening into corners. It took on dimensions, stretched, vertical expanding while the horizontal stayed squashed. Lighter grey tones highlighted the darker: reflections, though he could not tell their source, when every particle between here and there blasted the same white light.

Still, somehow, shadows slid and clipped together, and forming the façade of a simple Cybertronian house. Minimal decorations outside and the windows were closed, but still it had the appearance of a place lived in: a couple of oil cans sat on the front porch, behind two steps that led down to empty, and in one of the upper windows he thought he saw the shine of aged crystal growths. There was also noise coming from inside, voices too dulled to understand.

Directly in front of the building now, he could not see either side and so did not know how far back it extended. He had the impression, though, it was a comfortable size. Only as big as the space its occupants needed, no room for unwanted excess.

His momentum carried him the rest of the way, until he could place his pede on the first step and walk up to the door on his own. He did not need to send a ping, which was a lucky thing, since his comm suite had fallen away with the rest of his processor. The door slid open for him, and he stepped inside.

The gray shading of the exterior persisted inside, clear shadows that built around him the image of a home almost like what one would have found on Cybertron before the war. The metal walls were painted with a matte finish, the seams between them cut with delicate patterns of straight lines and right angles. Like the door, the entry way was large enough to accommodate him twice over, a feature of lower caste residences, but he could feel the hum of complicated circuitry throughout the foundation, optimization the caliber of which only the upper caste could have afforded.

“Optimus!” He startled at the noise. “Stop staring at my walls and come in.”

He stepped walked down the main hallway and turned at the first open door. Within was a sitting room, a couch on one end with a table and chairs closer. Two identical figures sat there, a cube of energon in front of each of them with a third before an empty chair.

“Well?” Dreadwing asked. Skyquake said nothing but stared at the intruder.

“Am I welcome?” He did not know what this place was or what it meant for him to have found himself here, but it clearly belonged to Dreadwing and Skyquake both. He had no wish to insert himself somewhere he did not belong.

“My brother has been waiting for you,” Skyquake said. “It seems that somehow, in the months I missed, you managed to gain his respect.”

Optimus glanced at Dreadwing.

“I would be honored if that were so,” he said.

Dreadwing’s lips twitched and his helm tilted to the empty chair. So much of the way they had spoken to each other in life had been based on the unspoken, it was no surprise it would continue here, where they were stripped to their purest elements.

Optimus stepped inside and took the seat. Sitting here, he faced the windows, but even through the cracks in the shade none of that overwhelming light came through. In here, it was peaceful, comfortable, like it had been designed with the intention that they might stay here for some time.

Dreadwing raised his cube to his mouth.

“How did it happen?” he asked around the rim.

“I sacrificed myself,” Optimus said. “The Allspark was at risk, so I drew it into my own frame and returned it to its rightful place.”

“Then the Well is back online?” Skyquake asked.

“Yes. Cybertron will awaken to new life once more.” He smiled, imagining new beings waking up, drawing themselves to the surface of a world that was theirs to build upon. He wished he could have been there to see it, but with his Autobots to guide them, he knew the next generation would be well looked after.

“And the war?” Dreadwing asked.

“Megatron followed your path, actually,” Optimus said, turning to his former assassin. “He renounced the cause and turned his back on his army. He will not be back.”

But Dreadwing’s lips curled down, and he set the energon back on the table with force. It seemed he had drunk none.

“Do not compare me to Megatron,” Dreadwing said. “He made a mockery of a cause we dedicated our lives to fighting for. I betrayed the Decepticons because to continue supporting them would have gone against my beliefs. If he simply left, then the Decepticons remain a flawed entity, and there is no honor in abandoning something one has the power to change.”

Optimus listened and nodded along.

“I will refrain, if that is what you prefer,” he said. “But if the Decepticons are as far gone as you say, are you sure it is still possible for anyone to change them from within?”

“Megatron could,” Skyquake said. “If any force in the universe were powerful enough, it would be him.”

And Optimus found he could not argue with that, so he nodded and attempted to take a sip of the energon he had been given. It tasted like energon, and he felt the impression of it moving down his intake, but the cube itself did not seem to drain. No matter how long he drank, it seemed to stay at the same level.

So curious he was about the phenomenon that he did not realize how long his silence had passed before he heard snickering. He lowered the cube and looked around: both twins were laughing at him.

“This place operates on its own rules,” Dreadwing explained. “Too many to bother explaining in detail. You will find discrepancies and you will adapt, and eventually it will become as natural as life once was.”

“So, this is death?” Optimus confirmed.

Dreadwing tilted his helm, first to one side, then the other.

“Something like it,” he said. “You will find the specifics don’t matter so much. We are here.”

“And occasionally we are not,” Skyquake said, rising from his seat. His cube, also full, remained on the table.

“You’re leaving?” Optimus asked.

“Stepping out,” Skyquake corrected. “My brother has been looking forward to your arrival.” He grinned, and Optimus turned to catch Dreadwing’s reaction. Too late: his expression had already shifted back to annoyed-neutral.

“I suppose so,” Optimus said. “Your revenge has been achieved, after all. though unfortunately not by your hand.” It was easier than he might have expected to make light of his own demise, or the effort both these mechs had expended to hasten him toward it. Perhaps such things dimply did not matter so much, here on the other side of the Well.

“You think my mission was for revenge?” Dreadwing asked, leaning forward on the table. “For what? Skyquake’s death was just another in a long line of our being separated by Cybertronians who thought themselves worthy of making such decisions. It was a question of honor, Optimus: Skyquake was denied an honorable death, and as his kin it was my responsibility to secure that honor in his name.” He traced patterns on the table as he spoke, like he was drawing the concept of honor and the way it could be passed around like energon siphoned between lines.

“In my estimation, you did,” he said. He glanced at Skyquake. “If you are unsatisfied, though, I would be willing to duel again.”

“Perhaps,” Skyquake said. “If Dreadwing decides you are worthy enough to stay.” He gave them a short bow, then ducked away, disappearing into the same hall Optimus had entered from. He heard a door activate elsewhere and was not sure whether it was to the exterior of the house. It didn’t seem there was anywhere to go out there, but then, he still had a great deal to learn about this place.

He turned back to his remaining host.

“He seemed to imply that I’m being tested,” he pointed out.

“Somewhat,” Dreadwing said, leaning back in his chair. Optimus didn’t think he had ever seen the Decepticon lieutenant comfortable before.

“What is your determination so far?” Optimus asked.

The corners of Dreadwing’s lips pulled up. A grin wasn’t the right work for it, nor a smirk; it was the attempt of a mech who had never tried to form a single cordial relationship in his life to look friendly.

“You are entirely too optimistic, Optimus,” he said. “Don’t you remember the last time we spoke?”

“You handed over the Omega Keys and offered us an opportunity to revive Cybertron under Autobot control,” Optimus said. He could never forget it: the memory often replayed in the last few moments before he fell into recharge.

“I also refused to join your cause or leave my own,” Dreadwing pointed out. “We were enemies for most of our lives, Optimus.”

“And now all those matters rest in our past,” Optimus said. He gestured to the window, though he had no idea which direction the living world lay in. “Cybertron lives again, headed toward a peace founded on the same ideals you fought for. We may not be able to witness it, but we can know that all of our actions, battles fought and sacrifices made, were building to this end.” He glanced to the hallway. “Perhaps it is bold of me to assume, but I feel it worthwhile to ask: have you found happiness?”

He looked back. Dreadwing was watching him, that forced smile eased into something more natural for his handsome face.

“There is no simple way to answer such a question,” he said.

“We have time,” Optimus pointed out. He stood from his chair, taking a moment to look around the room. It was a utilitarian space, but there were a few decorations that betrayed some sentimentality on the part of its owners: image displays on the walls, a mantle with a collection of = stones from other worlds, and a tin of wax that had been left out all contributed to a personal feeling that allowed Optimus to relax a bit more.

For Dreadwing and Skyquake, this place was home, and they had welcomed him into it. Whatever hostility might remain between them, nothing could overshadow that fact.

He made his way to the couch, its back against the windows, and sat down. It was comfortable, though he had no way to know whether that was because of the strange magic of this place, the make of the furniture itself, or the fact that he no longer had a body in which to feel discomfort. Dreadwing remained at the table, and he watched Optimus as he settled, helm rested on one hand.

“I wished to live to see Cybertron’s revival,” Dreadwing said. “I wished to watch if from the air once more, the way its inhabitants moved as if in a perpetual dance.” His hand moved across the surface of the table, imitating traffic. “I was assigned to energon drilling, and occasionally tasked with passing rapid communication between facilities. It was during my flights I started to get a sense of how truly large Cybertron is, and how much was being denied to me and others of my caste.”

“I had a similar experience,” Optimus said. “While working in the archives, I would receive data that indicated a much wider world than I had experienced myself. Until Alpha Trion’s intervention I had no means to reach beyond.”

“So, you understand what a gift it is to behold Cybertron as it lives,” Dreadwing said. “Not everyone does. But I digress, I did not live to witness it, and so in that way I do not know if I can call what I have here happiness. How can I claim a peaceful afterlife if I did not first achieve that which I desired in life?”

It was a valid question. But by the way his wings relaxed down, and how he gazed at Optimus with a look like a familiar friend, it seemed Dreadwing already knew the answer.

“I have spent more consecutive days with Skyquake here than I ever did in life,” he said, ducking his optics. His voice was gentler suddenly, as though speaking too loudly would make his joy obvious and break the spell. “It is what I imagined security must feel like. We part ways, and I know he will always come back; neither of us will ever be forced to choose to leave the other. Even if we had lived to see Cybertron again, any number of things could have intervened to separate us. To exist without that fear is, I believe, what happiness might feel like.”

“Then I am happy for you, old friend,” Optimus said. He smiled and hoped Dreadwing recognized his sincerity.

There was a beat of contemplation, and then Dreadwing stood and approached, broadcasting his movements before he made them. Optimus was not sure the sofa would be wide enough for both of them, but when Dreadwing sat the space was perfect, just wide enough that their knees could have touched, though Optimus kept his own drawn in for now.

“And you?” Dreadwing asked.

“Hm?”

“What will it take for you to find your happiness here?” He was facing forward, but Optimus still got the sense he was being paid attention to.

He turned over the question for a moment, inspecting it, though not too closely. He trusted the Allspark would do him no harm, which meant he trusted Dreadwing and his questions, and wanted to give them as honest an answer as he could fathom.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s not something I’ve considered in a very long time.” This was a good start, though. Knowing that Dreadwing had made it here and found peace gave him hope. He had lived a long life and done so much; he was ready for a place where he could rest.

“If you leave here and wander a bit,” Dreadwing gestured behind them, toward the window, “you will find the Pious Pools, as they were before the channel was blown up and they were drained. Perhaps a walk will give you guidance?”

Optimus misunderstood him.

“Anywhere I could go with you would be a gift.”

That wasn’t a bad thing, though.

By the time Optimus realized Dreadwing had meant for him to go on his own, the latter was already watching him with a smile on his face like it had snuck on and was hiding from him. He leaned closer, hand up to trace a delicate claw over Optimus’ audial.

“If we had lived,” he said, “would you have walked with me then? There was a trail from the lower end of Staniz that led up into the foothills, a dented trail formed by the weight of all the mechs who walked it. A mile out, the city disappeared, and the wind would blow so strong it would threaten to knock you over and send you tumbling back the way you had come. Would you have preserved that path while the rest of Staniz was restored? Would you have walked it with me, allowed me to hold you against the strength of our planet?”

“Why would it not have been me holding you?” Optimus asked, and then what must have been lips, warm lips, were pressed to his own.

He shut off his optics, leaned in, chased Dreadwing when he started to pull away. It did not matter that they were without frames: they kissed, held each other, phantom plating slotting together. Dreadwing had a scent and Optimus locked onto it, archived it, saved it to what might have been the fabric of the Well itself. He trailed his fingers along a ghostly wing and felt a shiver run through Dreadwing, strong enough to break them apart and force their optics back online.

They stared at each other, panting. Optimus did not know his mouth was still open and he wouldn’t have cared regardless.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurted.

And Dreadwing smiled, and there was no fleeing from it, no hiding. He smiled at Optimus, and happiness no longer seemed like such an unknowable thing.

“The wonders of life yet to be lived,” he murmured. And then he kissed Optimus again.

CAMP NANOWRIMO APRIL '20// HOUSE OF LIGHTNING

The world unfurled around their sleepy little town the night before her high school graduation. This reckoning, although expected like a ball that was always going to drop, arrived in a humid, heavy fog trailed by dark clouds. The night was strangled in heat, and every body in town was sweat-slicked and sticky with sea salt, but even dips in the sea felt uncomfortably warm. The electricity crackling through the air might have been the approaching storm, but it felt more like the breathless apprehension overflowing from their doors. 

Info:

Genre: YA contemporary, magical realism, fantasy

PoV: third person multiple switching between 3 characters, past tense

Setting: small socal town somewhere south of santa barbara

Estimated word count: 70,000-85,000

Status: first draft, 23,686 words

Themes: friendship, fate, power of words, time, independence vs codependency, coming of age, individual vs society

Synopsis:

Farthanam-Medero, California has always gripped onto its stories. The most notable is the century-old tale of Margaret Keenan, whose tragedy cursed the town to decades of suffering. Agnes Feigenbaum didn’t truly believe in it—that was, until she, her best friend, and arch enemy were struck by lightning and gifted with impossible abilities on the anniversary of Margaret’s death. 

Their powers grow stronger, and while their town collapses around them in the present day, the truth of that fateful night in 1900 begins to unravel. To save Farthanam-Medero and undo the curse, they must face the secrets they keep and prevent history from repeating itself. 

Characters:

Agnes Feigbenbaum—18, loves to write and travel, likes vintage clothes, tried too hard at school, “tragically heterosexual,” will travel back in time

Sabrina Ojeda—17, future broadway star, lesbian, wears way too much tie-dye, loves to plan, sometimes sees the future

Levi Rosenfeld—18, very lost as a person, major daddy issues, closeted nerd, bisexual, sometimes chills in alternate universes

Jo Granger—18, she/they pronouns, loves theoretical physics, the most beautiful person in town, loves girls, kinda wishes they were struck by lightning, too

Tags (+/-)

@austrohungarianwriteblr

Humans are weird: Flamethrowers

A common thing found across the universe as more and more species began advancing into the technological age of space travel was that in many isolated systems invasive insect like species had taken full control.  Some of these worlds had no natural predators to keep the insects in control while others showed signs that there had been at one time or another but due to some natural disaster or internal conflict they lost the ability to contain the insects and were eventually overrun. With no natural prey they continued to grow and sometimes grow to the size of a car or be as compact as a softball depending on the species.  Normally they would not be a problem as despite having full dominance over their respective worlds these insects still lacked the means to develop space travel via organic ships or mechanical. However, these worlds also drew the attention of the reckless and foolhardy with promises of wealth, glory, and fame. Game hunters, archaeologists, illegal mining operations, pirates and other criminals, and even the occasional tourist all launched private and unauthorized excursions to these planets. Most of them ended in some form of either comical or gruesome death as the insects are highly territorial and left no survivors, but there was the rare chance the intruders were able to extricate themselves from the hazardous planets with unknown passengers hitching a ride.  It is still being researched how many of these escaping flights were infested with varying forms of the insects, current estimates have it at around 95% were infected. The outcome fell into one of three categories after these ships reentered space. First, the crew enter into deep freeze for the long voyage and the insects spread like wildfire across the ship and kill them in their sleep. Second, the crew is aware of the insects and attempts to eliminate them but fail leaving them free roam aboard the ship. Third, the crew successfully repel the insects and head for friendly space.  For the ships that were overrun the worst possible outcome would often play out. Once the crew was wiped out the insects would begin rapidly multiplying while the ships nav-computer triggered after several days of inactivity from the crew and take the ship to the nearest spaceport. This tragedy was the spark of the insect wars as at least two dozen infested vessels made their way back to different planets across settled space. Quarantine for ships was not a common practice at the time as there had been no reports of an outbreak of disease. Upon landing or docking the insects would swarm out and overrun spaceport security details. Massive jaws ripped through metal doors like they were paper while smaller ones would slip through air vents and spread like a plague across the planet.  Within two months a full blown blockade was established around the infested systems trapping all those inside with the invasive insects as they began taking control of one world at a time.   Outside the blockade governments were in turmoil trying to devise a plan of action but infighting left it that the only thing they could agree on was maintaining the blockade and destroying any ship that would attempt to flee for fear of it being infested.  This was the ruling of the galactic governments. Well, all but one of them...... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “We’re going to die here aren’t we?” Kolvan looked at Hobre. He was holding himself and rocking back and forth, his weapon laying beside him as his eyes darted around rapidly in an attempt to keep every angle in view.  Kolvan, walking around the edges of the rooftop inspecting the streets below for any sign of movement, didn’t even bother to turn to Hobre.  “Death would not be a probability had you not left Jobu to his you coward.”  Hobre stood up suddenly. “How many times must I tell you?!? there was nothing I could do!!!”  Kolvan quickly rushed over to Hobre and grabbed him by his throat. “Be.Quiet.” His grip tightened slightly to reinforce his seriousness and he could hear Hobre begin to slowly gasp for his breath. For a moment he was imagining himself dropping his weapon and using both hands to strangle the life of this backstabber, to throw his lifeless body from the roof down to the streets below and repay the friends they had lost with his own death. The faces of those that had been lost flashed before Kolvan until finally Jobu’s face was looking at him from behind Hobre.  He let go of Hobre who then collapsed to the rooftop gasping for air and returned to walking the edge. Jobu would not have wanted his friends turning on each other at his passing, and right now that was the only thing keeping Kolvan from murdering Hobre.  When the infestation reached their city, Jobu, Hobre, Kolvan, and their families had attempted to reach the local transit hub and take the last streamer line to the out of the city. They had all nearly reached the station when the insects swarmed over the building and flipped the streamer on its side before ripping it open with their jaws to feast on the trapped passengers.  They’d fled back into the city and while Kolvan was leading the group into their current structure, a six story apartment complex, he had turned around to see that Jobu was gone. When he questioned Hobre he said that the insects had got him, but he didn’t believe it. He had always had a thing for Jobu’s wife and Kolvan wouldn’t put it past him to murder their friend if it gave him a chance at her.  That had been nearly a month ago. They’d barricaded the entrance as best they could but they all knew it would only slow down the insects if they were found. They had searched every apartment and had rationed what food they could but supplies were beginning to run out.  Before either of them could go at it again they heard a low rumbling sound. Kolvan crouched down and slinked over to the edge with Hobre following behind him coughing less and less.  The two looked down at a strange metal vehicle lumbering through the streets with black clad figures walking in front of it. The vehicle looked heavily armored, about two car lengths i size and with tires large enough to to take up half a road lane. On top was a weirdly shaped bulge with two metal tube sticking out of it. It swiveled back and forth as if waiting for something. Kolvan changed his gaze to the black clad figures surrounding the clunking vehicle. There were three in the front and three in the back, two to each side of the vehicle and with the remaining two positioned at the front and rear of the vehicle. He couldn’t make out much detail from the distance but they appeared humanoid in shape but they each carried a strange metal cylinder on their backs that looked like it was attached to some sort of stick that each figure carried.  The figures marched alongside their vehicle at an even pace and like their metallic guardian appeared to be looking to each side of the street. One of the figures looked up in Kolvan’s direction and he saw the glint of red eyes. Before he could do anything Hobre grabbed him and pulled him back over the edge.  Kolvan was about to berate Hobre when the rumbling stopped. Neither of them dared move as they listened. Kolvan could barely make out what sounded like voices and the rustling of footsteps. He was about to peer over the edge when a voice called out to him.   “Hello up there!”  Hobre and Kolvan froze at the loud voice. “You, on the rooftop.  We’re not here to harm you. Could you please come out?” The voice sounded amplified and could easily reach them from down below. Kolvan was about to stand up and answer them but Hobre grabbed him.  “They’ll attract the insects! Keep qu-” “TO THOSE UP ON THE ROOF, WE ARE HERE TO HELP YOU.” The booming voice made Kolvan’s hair stand up on end and he scrambled up to see over the side once more. The voice appeared to be further amplified by the vehicle that had come to a stop right in front of their building.  “REMAIN WHERE YOU ARE. A RESCUE VEHICLE IS EN-ROUTE TO PICK YOU UP.”  Kolvan was about to respond back when a new rumbling began building up. It started as a soft rattle in the distance but quickly began building up until the entire building was shaking.  At the far end of the street a tide of insects swarmed around the corners and made a b-line straight for black clad figures on the street.   Rather than run for their lives Kolvan saw three of the black clad figures step forward and form a line. They did something with their sticks and at the end of them a small flicker of a flame appeared.  The horde of insects were getting ever closer and the black clad figures planted their feet into the ground and raised their sticks towards the on rushing horde.  The bugs were almost upon them when a faint hissing sound filled the air, like a faucet was just turned on and from the tips of their strange sticks a gout of fire shot out and met the tide of chitin. It was so bright that Kolvan had to cover his eyes from the sudden flash and a rush of hot air leapt from the street below sending him backwards several steps.  When he had blinked his eyes clear he could see the glow of flames dancing off the walls of the surrounding buildings along with an ever growing column of smoke. There was a foul stench in the air as well, though he didn’t need to be a scientist to guess what that was.  Peering once more over the edge he saw something that both brought him joy and a strange sense of horror. The three black clad figures were slowly stepping forward, one step at a time, while releasing a continuing splash of flames from their strange sticks. He could see nearby vehicles decorations begin to melt from the intense heat but the figures seemed no more bothered by it than as if it was just a humid day.  The insects had rushed right into the wall of fire and many instantly died from being roasted alive inside their own exoskeletons. They had adapted to tropical climates that allowed them to push out heat from their bodies but had not evolved to handle such high temperature coming back into their bodies.  The front ranks were toasted the moment the flames touched their bodies. Eye stalks exploding, muscles crisping to a thick dried brown where the chitin didn’t cover the joints, organs turning to ash from the now super heated exoskeleton. They toppled over and tripped the second rank stopping their momentum as the flames hit them next.  By slowly advancing the fire throwers made sure to keep a safe distance in case the swarm simply piled over their dead as a living shield to get closer. Firmly planting their feet they pressed forward as the screeches of the insects grew louder.  Just as Kolvan started to get hopeful he noticed the flames beginning to shrink in range. The insects noticed the change as well and redoubled their efforts to get closer and rip apart the fire throwers when two far larger gouts of flame shot out from the armored vehicle to pick up the slack. As the fire throwers flames finally appeared to run out they turned on the spot and slowly marched back to the vehicle that was beginning to roll forward again, a steady stream of fire swiping the street left to right and back again.  The fire throwers approached the sides of the vehicle where some form of seat popped open from the side. They each took a seat and a silver tube emerged from the vehicle and attached to the top of their cylinders. He watched them sit there with their legs swinging beneath them as the vehicle pressed onward, the flames shooting out so much hotter than the individual fire throwers that Kolvan could feel his skin begin to crack and bleed slightly even from so high up.  He wished to continue watching when a loud roar came from over head and a flying vehicle slowly descended. A hatch opened up and there was a strange pink alien waving them aboard. Without needing more prompting pushed past Kolvan and rushed on board the vehicle while Kolvan turned around and went below to get the remaining families.  When they finally took off again he could see from the window that the fire throwers below were far from alone. Nearly every street, alleyway, courtyard, and pathway had a group of fire throwers marching forward burning the insects back one step at a time. The flames were beginning to spread and envelop the city as well and for a moment Kolvan wondered about how many memories would be lost in the flames.  But if it meant erasing the horror of the insects, then he would have gladly put the city to the torch himself. 

You Send Me: Chapter Nine

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe

We finally get to full blown smut in this one, so a big NSFW warning on that. Also, as a result, this chapter is longer than I expected lol. But I think it’s worth it, and hopefully y’all will think so too!

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“Ugh,” Brian muttered, and it was a universal feeling in the van. 

You’d finally started on the road to Kalamazoo, later than anyone had wanted, but in enough time that the estimate was you’d at least be able to drop your things off at the hotel, and maybe rest for a few hours before needing to head to the venue. 

However, as hung over as most of you were, that still wasn’t ideal, and everyone knew it. 

For that matter, most were still asleep, including Freddie and John, slumped against Brian on each side. Roger was sitting up, and pretending to be awake, with his sunglasses on. But each bump in the highway made his head jerk, and you felt bad for him. Sleeping with interruptions like that wasn’t sleep at all, really. 

Speaking of, you hadn’t slept much at all. Worry over the boys or the crew being sick while they slept and choking was a real one for you, and so even when your eyes had managed to close, they’d almost immediately popped back open in fear that in that split second, something terrible had happened. 

Nothing had, of course, but it meant that even though you were lucky enough to be without a hangover, you were still horrendously in need of sleep. 

“Water?” you asked instead, holding up the not in-expensive bottles of Perrier water, hidden in a cooler by one of the backseats. “I have meds too, for headaches...I know I need some, if anyone else does, let me know.” 

You played nurse the rest of the way to Kalamazoo, finally getting Roger to actually lay down on your lap for the last few miles as well. It wasn’t much, but anything you could do to help made you feel better. 

You wondered what the hotel staff must think of you, as you all slogged inside and upstairs to your rooms. It wasn’t a great look, that much was certain, but you tried to soothe yourself by hoping they’d seen their fair share of hung over musicians who looked not unlike death warmed over. 

Freddie dropped onto the hotel bed hard enough that it sounded painful, but you couldn’t resist from joining him as you let your bag fall to the floor. 

“We should set an alarm,” he mumbled, but made no move to reach for the alarm clock on the end table. 

In his defense, in your current state, the end table might as well have been miles away. Which was why it took you a good ten minutes to finally crawl up the bed to reach it, and set an alarm for four hours from then. 

Freddie flipped onto his back with a thud, and you giggled. 

“Your sunglasses are still on.” 

“That’s fine,” he said. “It’s bright in here.” 

“You poor thing,” you teased sweetly, willing yourself off the bed to shut the blinds on the window near Freddie’s side of the bed. “Better?” 

He took his sunglasses off, letting you take them and set them on the table. “Much. Thank you. Now, you come settle down and sleep.” 

“I’m fine,” you lied. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to sleep, just that you were terrified of sleeping through the alarm. It would be easier to doze now, sitting up maybe to keep from sleeping too deeply. You could sleep on the day off, if anything. 

“Absolutely you are not,” Freddie said, and patted the bed. “Come on. No arguing.” 

“Or what?” you asked cheekily.

He promptly pushed himself up to standing, grabbed a hold of you, and dragged you with him as he dropped back onto the bed. “That!” 

It was hard to resist. His arms were warm, and the bed was soft, and you were exhausted. 

“Let yourself rest,” he murmured. “That’s me speaking as your boss, not just your boyfriend. Can’t have a good show if you’re so tired you can barely work.” 

“That’s a good point,” you yawned, as you snuggled into his arms. “You’ll make sure we get up on time.” 

“We have an alarm,” he said. “It’ll be fine.” 

“What if we sleep through it?” 

“We have a Brian,” Freddie answered. “He’s good about keeping the time. Most of the time.” 

“And if he isn’t good about it today?” 

“Roger,” Freddie said resolutely. “And then John, if Roger sleeps through the time as well.” 

“Are you just going to keep listing people until you’re out of crew to wake each other up?” 

“Ah, my secret revealed,” Freddie smiled. “Hush. Sleep. I know what you’re doing.” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said, and tried and failed to bite back a grin. 

“Yes, you know exactly what you’re doing too,” Freddie laughed. “You’re keeping yourself awake, and me in the process. Don’t worry about it; I promise we will be right on time for everything. Relax, for a bit. Nothing bad will come of it.” 

You sighed, and tried to listen. 

You really did, but it was too hard not to twist about and look to the clock to check the time. And every time you tried to keep your eyes shut, they seemed to force themselves back open immediately. 

Freddie gently placed his hand over your eyes, and kissed your forehead so sweetly and softly it absolutely melted you. It took a moment to realize he was humming Let It Be, just loudly enough for you to hear, for you to feel the thrumming of his voice in his chest, and you melted even more. 

It was easier then, to relax into his arms, to let your eyes close. Just to rest them, if nothing else. 

----

“Up you get, darling,” Freddie’s voice was quiet, and it seemed he hated to wake you. “Went fast, didn’t it?” 

You nodded groggily. “I didn’t even hear the alarm go off.” 

“Oh no, you heard it,” Freddie giggled. “Oh, I wish you could have seen yourself. You crawled up and batted it to the floor, fastest I think I’ve ever seen you move! Mind, that didn’t turn it off, I did that, but it was kind of you to try.” 

You dropped your head into your hands as you sat up. “Sorry.” 

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” Freddie said, tossing your bag to you. “I know, I’m not recovered enough either, but the sooner we give the uh...whatever you call people in this city, a good show, the sooner we can sleep more!” 

“Kalamazooian?” you guessed. “I feel like there’s not an ideal thing to call them.” 

“Maybe not,” Freddie agreed. “But they deserve a good show regardless, so up!” 

“Is this what I’m like, when I’m trying to rouse you?” you asked with a whine. “Because if so, I’m sorry. That’s much too chipper.” 

He laughed as he watched you change into the first things you found in your bag. “No, you’re nicer.” 

“You’re being plenty nice,” you scoffed. “I’m just a bitch to wake after a nap.” 

“Then we’re a pair, because normally I’m the same,” Freddie said. “Ready?” 

You nodded, meaning it at least partially, but grateful that Freddie let you lean just a bit on him until you were at the main staircase to the lobby. It wasn’t that you couldn’t work or anything, but you were groggy and tired and felt rather like you were still asleep, even as you walked with him out to the van to head to the venue. 

“Ready Freddie?” Roger asked with a sigh as the two of you settled beside him in the van. “And Y/N, you ready as well?” 

“Define ready,” you muttered. 

“Mostly awake?” 

“Then yes, I am ready,” you replied with a yawn.

You were able to mean it more in the venue, where the familiar mix of excitement and anxiety warmed and woke you up, the sound of the waiting crowd bringing you into the heat of the moment. 

From there, it was the usual rush, and it seemed Freddie was psychic. It was a good show, fantastic, one of the best yet, even. 

The post-show adrenaline was wild as a result, though only a few of the crew members were ready to go out on the town again.

“Besides, we only have a little while before we have to be on the road again,” Brian noted as you all walked back into the hotel. “May as well enjoy that time here as anywhere else.” 

“I think we can manage that,” Freddie said, a skip in his step as he led the way up the stairs to his room. “Can’t we?” 

“If you can sit still,” you joked, watching as he nearly jogged into the room. “You’ll be up the rest of the night at this rate.” 

“That’s the plan,” he smiled, and grabbed you by your hips to pull you close. 

You let him walk you backwards to the bed, leg again between your thighs as soon as you dropped with him onto the blankets. 

The rumors you had heard did not mark Freddie as a top, but blessedly he didn’t seem to mind taking that turn for the night. He let you go only to let you lay back on the bed, so he could rest on top of you, hips grinding against yours. 

You pondered briefly the thickness of the hotel walls as he kissed and nipped at your neck, as you remembered that Brian and John were supposed to be next door. You hadn’t heard them come up yet (the hotel bar might have enticed them away, despite the original promise of no partying from everyone who’d gone to back to the hotel) but you couldn’t get it out of your mind nonetheless. 

“You can be loud, if you want,” Freddie murmured. “Well, maybe not screaming loud, but louder than this.” 

“Hotel walls aren’t usually that thick,” you said, ending on a gasp as his hands roamed and plucked at your clothes. “And the guys-” 

“I’ve heard plenty from their rooms in the past,” Freddie interrupted with a smirk. “About time they heard something from mine.” 

He rolled off of you, and pulled at the sleeve of your shirt. “Off with it, come on. There’s no rush, but all the same, I’m tired of waiting.” 

You sat up, nodded your agreement, and started to undress, watching as he did the same. 

“Look,” you said. “We should probably just go over this first, maybe, I mean-” 

It was hard to broach, oddly enough. You suddenly found yourself shy. Then again, he’d had groupies before surely, what he might expect versus what you could give might be wildly different and-

It was almost like he could hear you overthinking it in your head, and he interrupted your train of thought with a soft kiss. 

“I’m disgusting,” he declared. “After all that running about onstage. I think a shower is in order, don’t you?” 

You nodded. “I sort of wondered if we might not want one. Not that either of us are filthy or anything, but simply for comfort’s sake.” 

The shower was cramped, and the water seemed to have zero interest in obeying the tap in regards to temperature and pressure. 

But it was lovely all the same, and you draped yourself over Freddie as opportunity allowed, in between the actual washing up. He might not have wanted to wait any longer for this (and for that matter, neither did you) but he still seemed to have no problem taking it slow, achingly slow. 

“If at any point any of this isn’t what you want, just say,” he murmured into your ear after a particularly deep kiss, that left you struggling not to cling to him to stay upright, your arms looped across his shoulders. 

“The same to you,” you managed weakly. It was hard to focus, with his thumb trained on your cock like it was, gentle movement but constant. Even as he finished washing up, he did it one-handed, grinning when you whimpered. 

“You could take a break, might be easier with two hands.” 

He nodded. “I can stop, just say if that’s what you want.” 

But you certainly didn’t want that, and you could see he was well aware of it. 

He teased as you got out and toweled off, only touching you briefly as you made your way back to the bed. 

“You know I’m going to have to get you back for this,” you said as you let yourself fall back on the bed, unable to hold back a happy sigh as he was on you again, though it was even better this time. 

His bare skin was warm, his cock hard against your thigh, your hip, your cock, as he moved to kiss you everywhere he could reach. 

It was heavenly, and you didn’t want it to end, and the sudden knock at the door was entirely unwanted. 

“Fuck off!” you cried before you could stop yourself, clapping a hand over your mouth afterwards.

His head dropped to your shoulder, body shaking as he laughed. “It’s just John. I asked him to come by with condoms; I had hoped it would be before we got this far though...” 

“Why on earth does he have them with?” 

Freddie carefully clambered off of you and pulled on his trousers as best he could, only reaching an arm out of the door before shutting it again. “Because he and Veronica do, on occasion, fuck without the intention of more children. Shocking as that may be, at this point.” 

“They do have two already,” you remarked. “Not to judge, or anything. I’ve just heard stories from the crew regarding his...homecomings and productivity once there.” 

“In any case, I didn’t anticipate finding anyone on a tour cycle this busy, my folly,” he continued. “So I’m stealing from him, though he did want me to let you know he considered it no problem at all to bring them by.” 

“I’ll have to apologize for telling him to...well,” you muttered. “Had I known it was him, I wouldn’t have shouted like that.” 

“And if it was Roger?” 

“By the time I’d be yelling, I presume he’d already be in the room, have offered a condom, and asked us if we wanted a drink,” you said dryly. “No offense to him, but it wouldn’t surprise me at all if that’s what would happen.” 

“Probably not far off from how it would actually go,” Freddie admitted with a light shrug of his shoulders, dropping the condoms onto the bedside table. “Now, you’re going to have to be gentle with me on this part.” 

He slipped his trousers off again before moving to the front of the bed, a finger gesturing you to move down it, until your legs were hanging off the edge of it to the floor. “The times I did this prior, it wasn’t with someone like you, if you catch my meaning.” 

You nodded, thinking you were fairly sure as to what he was alluding to. 

“So as a result, I’m out of practice,” Freddie said as he dropped to his knees in front of you, and slipped in between your legs. “If any of this isn’t working for you, just say so. The only other thing I ask is not to pull my hair too hard, if you find yourself with that urge.” 

“I take it that’s gone poorly in the past?” 

“Not poorly so much as just a bit of over-enthusiasm from some otherwise lovely men,” Freddie replied. “I trust you at least won’t rip any of it out of my scalp.” 

You nodded your agreement, but had to rein your hands in the next moment as his head dipped down and his tongue slipped between the folds of your cunt. He maybe wasn’t practiced, but it also wasn’t everyday you had someone wanting to go down on you, and it had been long enough that any contact at all was perfect. 

You let your hands carefully twine through his hair, not pulling, but doing your best to gently let him know exactly how well he was doing. Aside from that, it was just bliss, his arms around your legs to keep you in place when you squirmed, when it was right on the edge of too much to handle. 

He moved away just before you could come, a satisfied grin on his face. “Not terrible?” 

“You left,” you whined softly. “Go back.” 

“What if I could do one better?” he asked, and started to reach for one of the condoms.

“No!” you nearly shouted, and his hand dropped immediately. 

“Okay, we won’t-” 

“No, I mean I want to, but I should reciprocate!” you said, gesturing to his cock. “And after last time, you said yourself, it should be when we had time, in an actual room with a bed and all, and-” 

You gestured around the room. “Room! Bed! So it isn’t fair if I don’t at least try.” 

He leaned down to kiss you, sweetly, only to suddenly flip you so he was laying on the bed, and you nearly toppled onto him. “Alright then. Do your worst.” 

“You joke, but you know I haven’t done this before,” you said. “So be kind, and if I’m absolutely doing horribly, please say something, don’t suffer in silence for the sake of my pride.” 

He chuckled, but stopped as you straddled his thighs, leaning down to press a kiss to his stomach. 

You trailed your way down, stopping only to gesture him closer to the edge of the bed as you got off of it and knelt down. 

You almost lost your bravery then, even as you wanted desperately to make him feel good, and licked a stripe up the full length of his cock.

He jumped, just a bit. “Not a bad start. You can take your t-” 

His breath caught in his throat as you took as much of him as you could manage in your mouth, letting your tongue rest on the underside of the head of his cock as you let it slide back out again. 

“Or not,” he nearly squeaked. “Or you could go for it, wholeheartedly. Either way, I’m happy.” 

“Are you?” you asked as you continued what was now a loving task to get him as close to coming as possible, only to stop right before he did, just as he had done to you. “Why don’t you tell me about it. How happy you are right now.” 

He laughed. “And you’ll let me talk?” 

You took him into your mouth again, and hummed happily as he gasped. 

He didn’t manage much in the way of any other words, until you finally stopped and joined him back up on the bed.

“Not bad?” 

“Not at all,” he sighed, his eyes shut, a smile on his face. “And if I have my way, we’ll have plenty more opportunities for both of us to practice all of that. In the meantime...” 

He rolled over on top of you, careful to let you adjust before he reached for the condoms again. “Are you ready this time? All good?” 

You nodded. 

“Are you sure? I need a yes.” 

“Yes,” you giggled. “You’re just teasing me now.” 

“I don’t know what you mean, but I don’t think I heard that first part clearly,” Freddie said as he opened the wrapper and put the condom on, then retrieved the lube from the table as well. “My hearing must be going in my old age, after so many incredibly noisy shows. You’ll have to be louder than that.” 

Instead, you whispered ‘yes’ into his ear as he finally slid inside of you, wrapping your legs around his back. 

“Do you plan on letting me move?” he smiled, kissing you gently along your neck and collar bone. “Or are you good with only this?” 

You laughed, and loosened your legs just enough so his hips could move, slow until you caught the rhythm and could move with him. 

There was no more worry about noise control; you simply couldn’t be bothered with it. It felt too good to restrain yourself from every moan, every whimper that made Freddie kiss you in reply or nip at your shoulder or neck just the way you liked. 

There was, after a bit, a sharp bang from the other side of the wall, though you couldn’t judge by the sound if it was Brian or John that had made it. 

In response, Freddie carefully flipped you over so you were straddling him, and thrust up just enough to make you happily yelp. 

“I don’t think that’s going to make them stop banging on the wall,” you said as you worked your hips, running your hands over the hair on his chest. “Might make it worse, in fact.” 

“Good,” Freddie said with a cheeky grin. “Let them spend the night trying to shut us up. They could find a better way to spend it, and ignore us, if they really wanted to, they simply aren’t trying hard enough to do that.” 

You nodded, focusing solely on how close you were, on how he seemed to be right there with you. His hips had lost the beat of it, and you motioned for him to let you move to lay sideways onto the bed. 

He slipped out of you for a brief moment, and you could have wept at the loss of that sensation, even though he was back inside you not but a second later. 

You ignored the sound of the headboard hitting the wall, the creaking of the mattress, another angry bang on the wall (heavier, probably John), and let your eyes meet Freddie’s. 

That was all it took, and your eyes shut as you came, with Freddie right after you, pulling you close and holding you tight enough to leave marks. 

“For fuck’s sake, are you finally done?” you heard through the wall, and you both burst out into giggles.

“Might have been a bit too loud,” you whispered.

“A tad,” Freddie whispered back. “Let me clean up, then we’ll sleep, and be nice and quiet for them until it’s time to leave.” 

The pre-concert nap with Freddie had been good, but this was something better on an entirely new level. Not just because you still had at least a couple of hours to sleep before getting back on the van to head to Boston, though that was fantastic. What really made it was that you’d finally had time to be together that way, with minimal interruptions, somewhere comfortable. It was a glimpse into what you would have back home with him in London, and it made all you the more excited for the end of the tour. 

And as much as you loved your job, the chance at more privacy together, more intimacy, more comfort, sounded like the best thing ever.