#i blob you blob we all blob together

[lazzarella]

Eric Bana in the Criterion Closet on The Blob (1958)

[hyperlexichypatia]

Okay, here's my criticism of this post I keep seeing -- and no, it's not what you think. I know, my longtime followers who know the kinds of things I post about a lot are probably thinking, "Oh, I know what their objection is going to be. It's going to be that 18-19 year olds are adults who can date older partners if they choose to." But no, that's not it this time! Yes, I do believe it's fine for young adults to date older adults if they choose to (and am accordingly rolling my eyes at all the "This should go up to 25!" comments in the notes), but. That's not my issue here. In fact, precisely because I believe that young adults dating older adults is morally neutral, I'm not at all concerned about the efficacy of the messaging against it. My concern is that underage minors being in sexual/romantic relationships with adults is actually harmful and dangerous, and therefore young people actually should be warned against it, and this is not an effective warning.

Fellow old people, do y'all remember being 14? At all? Would you have found this warning effective and compelling at that age?

I for sure would not! I did not! Quite the opposite!

Put yourself in the young person's position here. You have no rights. You're treated as someone with no agency. Your parents, teachers, government, and society as a whole treats you as some combination of "nuisance," "ticking time bomb," and "unthinking blob." Developmentally, you're at a phase of life when you should be transitioning to a more adult role, but everyone around you demonizes you for that desire. All your thoughts, feelings, and opinions are dismissed as the inconsequential ravings of Just A Dumb Kid Who Doesn't Know Any Better. You meet someone who treats you with basic human politeness, tells you that he likes you and that you're mature, actually treats you like you have two brain cells to rub together. Of course you're going to be drawn to him. And then when other adults warn you that obviously of course he doesn't really like you, that's impossible, of course you're not really mature, no one could possibly see you that way; actually you're naive and incapable of making your own decisions, and the way your parents/teachers/society treat you is completely justified. Are you going to heed those warnings?

Why are adults absolutely constitutionally incapable of giving good, necessary advice to teenagers without fucking insulting them in the process? Of course teenagers don't listen to it! Why would anyone??

"Oh, well, of course teenagers don't listen, because they're stubborn, and immature, and biologically determined to make bad decisions, which is all the more reason they need to be controlled," say adults, completely oblivious to the actual problem.

When I was a teenager, the big moral panic at the time was teen pregnancy, and we were all inundated with the least effective cautionary tales in the world: "If you get pregnant as a teen, you'll have to leave your parents' care and function as an adult!" Which left every girl who'd intentionally gotten pregnant for the explicit purpose of escaping her abusive parents saying "Yeah, that was the goal." And every girl who was looking for a way of escaping her abusive parents to think "What a great idea!" Today the big moral panic is older partners, but if the appeal of an older partner is that he treats you like someone capable of making your own decisions, why would you be persuaded by a counterargument of "Don't listen to him, of course you're not capable of making your own decisions!"?

Again. I'm saying this because I agree that adults dating minors is a bad thing and that minors should be warned against it. EFFECTIVELY.

That said, this is my advice to any 17-or-younger person being pursued by an 18+-year-old partner: Listen. You deserve so much better than the way society treats you. You deserve to be taken seriously. You deserve to make your own decisions in life. You have a mind of your own, and people should recognize that instead of treating your pesky "free will" as a personal affront or an inconvenient glitch. You can and should think for yourself. You deserve, and I hope you have, relationships with older people who validate those truths about you. However. You are still legally and materially powerless. I don't have to tell you that. You live it every day. Someone older than you -- and therefore, inherently, legally, more powerful than you -- should not be trying to extract things from you. Money, sex, unpaid labor, anything of value. Someone more powerful than you who truly values you, values your friendship, values you as a person, will be mindful of your status and not try to extract anything from you. Cross-age friendships are good. Older people can and should genuinely like and appreciate you, and you can and should genuinely like and appreciate them. But if they try to extract anything from you, run away.

[djevelbl]

Fuck it. if you vote PrinceZam and show me proof I'll draw u something. please I'm begging

REMEMBER THIS IS BASED ON CHARACTERS NOT CREATORS! We are not calling straight creators gay!

LDshadowlady

Number of submissions: 2 From: Life Series, Empires SMP , SOS Smp, One Life, X Life , Kingdom Craft Headcanons: Bi , Asexual , Pansexual Reasons:

Jizzie is both yaoi and yuri to me Lizzie is also bi irl

She had an attic of secret girlfriends ( used in a romantic term not like bestie term iykwim) in one life

PrinceZam

Number of submissions : 2 From : Life Steal Headcanons : Unlabeled, Gay Reasons:

Prince “I love being gay in Minecraft” Zam

PrinceZam reblogs ship art and fanfic of himself and other people on the server

[algebrasupplements]

where danny is the god of gods (dpxdc)

I like to interpret the Infinite Realms as what the name suggests: truly infinite. It could be the dimension that binds everything together, where everyone from every dimension and universe goes when they perish. Maybe these poor, unfortunate souls become blob ghosts, who knows?

Anyway, the Ghost King is the dude that has power over all of this. Essentially, he’s like the capital G God. Now imagine the other pantheons of gods. Greek, Indian, Egyptian, etc. The Ghost King literally rules over the gods.

When Danny defeated Pariah Dark, he became the Ghost King. It’s now his job to keep everyone under his command in line, keep them from destroying the universe. So, let’s assume the Justice League is fighting Ares (again). All of a sudden, this tiny child glowing green flickers into existence.

The Justice League is understandably concerned. How the hell is the kid flying? Where did he come from? Most importantly, why is he here? They ready themselves for battle.

Then, the child speaks.

“Ares, dude, we talked about this! You can’t try to enslave entire dimensions just because you’re bored, do you know how much paperwork you’ve caused me?!”

The Justice League is floored, even more so when Ares hangs his head and pouts like a toddler, apologizing to the strange glowing child-not-child.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Self-On Kode with Mark ⋆⭒˚.⋆

idol!Mark x f!idol!reader

summary: you and you boyfriend Mark are paired up for an interview, but do you even know you're texting each other? No.

(cw: f!reader, idol!reader)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Mark got comfortable in the plush, pink chair of the Kode set with a shy smile, "Ah hello, I'm Mark from NCT." He pushes his earbuds into his ears and begins playing his music, "today I'll be known as Cheetah. Um, I couldn't really think of anything else and the fans already call me a cheetah so it was easy to think of."

On the opposite side of the wall, you settle into your own chair while smiling at the camera while introducing yourself, "I was so confused when I was asked to pick a wild cat as my screen name. It was such an oddly specific category, and even weirder when you told me cheetah was already taken. Anyway, I chose Tiger because they're the next prettiest."

Your music begins to play through your earbuds as your phone vibrates from the first message from your partner. "Yo?" you read in confusion, staring at your screen with pure confusion, "is that it? This is a man isn't it? Girls don't talk like this."

On the other side of the wall Mark laughs softly, covering his mouth as he reads the message. "This person is so happy. I've never seen anyone write hi with this many i's."

You and Mark text back and forth for a while, sharing your hobbies and sending memes back and forth until the both of your are giggling madly on your respective sides of the set. Of course, after nearly 2 years together you'd know how to make each other laugh, even without knowing you're texting each other. Your partner still doesn't give you any identifying traits or hints as to who they are. Well, besides clearly being a man based on how he texts.

Following the instruction of the staff, you send a screenshot of your home screen. You pout, feeling slightly bad for your partner. Just two days ago you'd gotten a new phone and hadn't yet had the time to make it yours. It was stuck with the boring default background and a handful of apps you considered to be essential. You explain as much with the text accompanying the screenshot.

And Mark's screenshot? Well, it might as well be just as boring as yours. He has the blur set on the photo so all you see is an indistinct mess of colors. Two distinct blobs which could be the shape of two people or two flowers or two guitars or two cats.

"Wow," you say as you typed out the word, "we are two very boring people. You really don't want me to know who you are."

Mark laughs out brightly while he reads your text, "me? You haven't even changed your own yet!"

"I told you I just got a new phone and haven't had time yet!" You laugh to yourself while typing out your message.

Your joking back and forth gets the two of you off track while you playfully poke fun at each other back and forth until the staff ask you both who you think you're texting. Mark looks at the camera while he tries to think, "I have no clue. It's a girl, surely but it could be anyone. Do you pick random people off the street to do these videos?"

On the other side of the wall, you blush softly, covering your face while your face cools down, "is it weird if I say it's my boyfriend? He just seems so much like Mark."

It's one of the few times you've ever referred to Mark as your boyfriend for any sort media. You and Mark had technically been a public couple for about a year now, since your respective companies had come out with their statements to reveal your relationship. How you'd been able to conceal a year of your relationship was beyond the both of you. Well, a lot of dark, oversized clothes and hats and masks to conceal your faces.

After the company statements, you and Mark seemed to be even better at hiding. You barely glanced at each other at award shows, and if you did, it was only friendly, nothing that could be interpreted as anything else. There were very few glimpses into your relationship beyond birthday and anniversary posts with obscured faces and sharing each other's most recent comebacks on your stories. Privacy was something you both valued and of course you were more than ok with doing any type of promotion with Mark, it just never worked out that way. Until now (not that you knew). Plus, it wasn't like this interview would give anyone any important details of your relationship anyway.

When the staff prompt you both to share a screenshot of your most recently listened to songs, you stare at your screen with a look of blank surprise, "this is just a mix of Drake and Justin Bieber. It's Mark, it has to be."

You zoom in on the picture, mumbling about how you see more music that is so distinctly Mark while on the other side Mark looks at the screenshot you send excitedly. "She's a fan! Of me! Wow, she's listened to Child and Golden Hour and 200! Ok, I have to chill out a bit," he tells himself even as he types out his message telling you that you have good music taste.

You snort at his message just as the staff laugh at the exchange at the same time. The head producer instructs you both to find your baby pictures to send to the other.

You look up from your phone, looking at the camera and the staff, "surely, you'd think a couple who have been together for this long have seen pictures of each other when they were kids, right?" The staff nods in response before you speak again, "well, we haven't! I've only seen what has been posted online. Same for him!"

Mark sends you a picture of him as a baby where he's a few months old and you coo immediately. You zoom in as close as you can drawing your phone closer to you face as you star adoringly at the baby on your screen. "He's the cutest little thing I've ever seen! I've never seen a cuter baby in my life! Oh, I just want to squeeze his cheeks and cuddle him," you gush over the adorable picture of the chubby baby boy with an adoring look on your face.

Mark looks at his phone, the camera, the staff, his phone again, the camera again with a look of pure and utter confusion as he looks at what he can only assume is a child covered in frosting. "You can barely tell this is a human, how is this supposed to help me figure out who I've been texting?" Mark asks, zooming in on the picture while the staff bursts out in laughter. When he finds out who he's talking to...

So when he staff ask for a final guess as to who you've been texting you say Mark's name confidently while Mark ultimately utters out, "Maybe someone from a girl group... maybe it's Yeri."

When the staff ask you both to stand and get ready to face each other to reveal yourselves. Instead of walking toward Mark, you find yourself behind the set so you're behind Mark.

Mark walks forward slowly, waiting to see when he'll spot his interview partner, but when he sees an empty spot, he faces the camera and the staff with a quizzical smile, "was I talking to a ghost?"

They laugh softly and murmur amongst themselves while you finally reach forward and tap his shoulder softly. Mark jumps, completely scared by the touch. He turns to you with his eyes wide with surprise, "you?!"

"Yes, me!"

After you're both seated at the high top table and calmed down from the surprise meeting with on another, you're both ready to talk to each other in front of the camera once again. You smile softly at your boyfriend, "I knew it was you."

Mark scoffs, "how?"

"Yo," you repeat the word from his first message with a poor imitation of his voice, "all the Drake, all the Bieber-- oh my gosh, Mark! Your baby picture!"

Mark laughs, taking your hand in his out of view of the camera, "speaking of baby pictures, what did you send me?"

Your brows furrow softly at his question, "I sent you a picture of me as a baby."

"There's no way that was you. You look like a little cake monster."

"It was from my first birthday..." you pout at Mark.

"Don't get pouty with me, you were completely covered, how could I have known? I can pout too! My face used to be your homescreen and now it's the plain default screen," Mark tells you with a playful pointed look.

"Mark," you deadpan, "you were with me when I got my new phone."

"Oh yeah..." Mark blushes with embarrassment.

"Anyway, who did you think I was?"

Mark squeezes your hand nervously beneath the table, his thumb rubbing at your knuckles a little anxiously, "I had no clue, to be honest. I knew you were a girl but I didn't know it was you."

When the staff ask Mark how he didn't know but you did, all he can do is blush and laugh out a nervous response. You turn to him with a playful accusatory look of your own, "yeah, how come you didn't know?"

"I don't really pay attention to how you text, just what we text about..."

You and the staff coo as you pinch his cheeks and cup his face lovingly, "you're so cute, but you were cuter as a baby."

"My mom says the same thing," Mark rolls his eyes.

Your conversation winds down and you both pose for the selfie at the end. You both pull silly faces, cheeks pressed together and eyes scrunched shut with your tongues sticking out.

Despite the stupid picture you both took, the screen fades to black with a completely different picture of you and Mark laughing while looking at each other with hearts in your eyes and bright smiles on your faces.

[shidoglazer]

h-hatesex with enemy!rin please..? 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 please gang please

otherwise

rin itoshi smut being paired with him during a group project

enemy!rin hate sex mdni ＠shidoglazer

you expected him to reach at 6 p.m. anyways, considering how he didn’t have any regard for anyone else other than himself. but surprisingly, he showed up at your doorstep 4 p.m. sharp, dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants while one of his backpack straps was hanging off his shoulder. much to your demise, your mom was the one who answered the door, and she just couldn’t stop fawning about how handsome he was. god.

“woh! you must be my daughters little college friend right? what a handsome young man you are, look at your eyes .. they’re so sharp and-” she was about to reach out to push rins bangs out of his face before you stepped in, and you swore you felt rins aura become tense when he saw you. there was a clear rivalry tension between you two. “thats enough, ma, we need to work on this project.” to which she giggles and winks to you like she’s trying to tell you to get together with him. which is nothing but infuriating.

you bring rin up to your room, shutting the door as you sat down at your study desk. “didn’t know you had so much consideration to show up on ti-” you turned your head to look at him, and he was still standing at the doorway looking completely mortified.

“..what the hells wrong with you?” “whats wrong with me? look at this room. its a trash island.” and theres nothing on your floor except a few pieces of clothes. fucking clean freak, you think.

“you’re a grown man. bear with it.” rins face looked like he just saw a ghost, slowly stepping into your room and heading over to where you were, sitting on the chair beside you and placing the bag on the floor. “your room smells.” “must’ve been your fault.”, the silence continues on, the only sounds heard is your pen scribbling against the paper. while rin .. just stares at you.

“so. what am i supposed to do? can’t you just do the work for me?” you were about to snap this pen in half from how hard you were gripping it out of anger. “you need to write a 10 page essay about community and social issues. that’s what.” rin hummed in acknowledgment as if he was just testing you, starting to get his paper out and starting to write.

though not even after a few minutes of writing, he’s already slumped against the table, staring at you again. his paper is blank except for his name and the date. you stare back at him when you notice his god awful posture.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“i don’t know how to write it.” he sounds like a confused and bored toddler at this point. you were going to rip this man in half. you took a deep breath and slapped the back of his head, and you felt heat radiating off of him. “you’re infuriating, itoshi rin.”

he got up from that slouched position, “this picture says otherwise.” he opens up his phone and you can almost guess what he’s gonna show you. “you’re trying to play the same trick on me? well- what. the. fuck.” you were quickly humbled when you saw text messages you sent to your friend,

“raw?” he cocks an eyebrow at you, and you’re internally freaking the fuck out. “i- i.. i hate you, fuck you, stupid bitch!” you can’t defend yourself anymore, so spurting out random insults will do for now. just for now though. “okay. sure.”

“you’re prettier with that mouth shut.” “i-.. i hic! hate you..” your voice was shaky, fat blobs of tears falling down your cheeks as he had you on the desk, anything that was from your waist down was stripped completely while his cock was plunging in and out of you.

it wasn’t sweet or romantic, he fucked you like he hated you (which he does, but still) but yet you couldn’t help but want more. its not your fault he was hitting all your sweet spots perfectly, its not your fault that his cock was so big that he couldn’t fit all of it in your little , pathetic hole. it wasn’t your fault your body just started grinding on him on its own!

“the feeling is mutual.” yet you both were clinging onto each others bodies like a lifeline. your arms wrapped tightly around his chest, pulling you both together while he was gripping onto the back of your thighs that were basically cum-soaked

you couldn’t make any noise, your mom was downstairs and your door unlocked, to which you have to bury your face into his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his cologne each time you breathed, and you couldn’t believe yourself when you felt your own walls clench around his cock whenever you did, “fuck.. you’re clenching too tight, fuck’s wrong with you?” “if y’don’t kissmerightnowimgonnaburnyourhousedown,”

you lifted up your head from his shoulder, his tears and drool-soaked shoulder to look at rin. his eyebrows were furrowed and he was biting his own lip, eyes peeking up just so slightly so he could see your face. “you’re fucking pathetic.” and that probably makes both of you equal from how fast he dived in to kiss you. you could feel the blood drawing out of his lips seep onto your tongue, and one might have suspect you as a vampire they saw you desperately sucking on his lips for more.

it was only a matter of time before you both pulled away, you looked up at him, batting your eyelashes as you let out the softest, sweetest moans. rin was blushing. hard. but obviously he’d never admit that, raising one hand to slap your face though firmly but not enough to hurt. your eyebrows furrowed at that, gripping and tugging on his hair back as “revenge”, but you both know you felt his cock twitch in you as you did.

“fuck y’think y’re doing?” his breathing was ragged, voice shaky and unstable yet he tried his best to seem intimidating, like how he usually was, though the rin you were seeing right now was a hot, blushing mess. “don’t pretend you don’t enjoy t- fuck! sstop, slow down! rin, rin rinnie— haahh.. rinnie!” you let the nickname slip, arms tightening around him as he suddenly started pounding into you at a ravenous pace, the sound of your skin slapping together continuously was definitely loud enough for anyone to hear.

“its rin, brat.” he took a deep sigh, and if you had a microphone to his mouth you’d be able to hear his soft whimpers whenever he exhaled. “m’close, inside or out?” but you were basically fucked dumb at this point from his pace, tears falling down your face from pleasure as you felt a knot in your stomach, “d-don’t knoww..” rin clicked his tongue in frustration, and just as soon as he was on the edge, you came with your clit untouched and he quickly pulled out, starting to stroke himself, releasing his cum on your stomach as he let out a low groan. “fuck..”

you both stayed there idle for a few moments, nothing exchanged between you two except laboured breaths. you fell limp against the wall behind you as he let go of you, grabbing a few tissues to wipe his cum off your stomach, then pulling his pants back up casually. “i’ll see you tomorrow.” and you immediately shot up, “what?! no! you just fucked me and you’re leaving immediately?..” ..you didn’t know how to feel. it was bittersweet. though, mostly bitter.

“what else do you want me to do?” “..just expected some, after care or something. whatever.” the way you frowned made rin feel nauseous. (his way of saying having butterflies in his stomach) and he groaned in annoyance, picking you up effortlessly and throwing you over his shoulder like you were just a sack of potatoes. “wheres your bathroom?” “ah!- rin! i, um. the right side,” he let out a hum of acknowledgement before heading to the bathroom.

he set up a bath, threw you in and grabbed a random towel from the cabinets, setting it beside the tub. you fell asleep almost instantly after being soaked in warmth.

masterlist

part 2

a/n i fucking hate memi message why is it crashing every 10 mins stg

[silverspectre51]

Summoning the Boy King

Darkseid was rampaging through Metropolis, Superman was injured, and the Justice League was desperate. As the League hid between fallen skyscrapers, John Constantine prepared a last-ditch effort to save the Earth.

The Hellblazer drew an intricate sigil on the ground; its circular design stretching over six feet in diameter. Most of the symbols within were space-related, while the others were themed to royalty. Batman, one of the few heroes in-the-know, grunted.

"Are you sure this king ghost can help?"

Constantine sighed and pinched his nose.

"He's the High King of the Infinite Realms, Bats, an' he's bloody powerful. He'll stop Darkseid, alright, but what he does afterward is anyone's guess. Believe me, I wouldn't be doin' this if we had a choice."

Batman sighed and glanced at the smoke-filled horizon.

"Alright, get on with it, then. We're running out of time."

Constantine nodded and placed a single offering in the center of the sigil: a squishmallow of Disney's iconic blue alien, Stitch.

"I beg your finest pardon," Batman sputtered, "What on Earth is that?"

Constantine sighed again as he took his position at the edge of the sigil.

"Mate, the book was very specific. Unlike his predecessor, the new king requires a single offering of space or alien theme that is suitable for children. It's bloody strange, but beggars can't be choosers."

Batman just shook his head and looked on. Constantine raised his hands and started the summoning chant. An eerie, green glow spread across the sigil, and light fog gathered above it. Little white orbs floated up from the ground and spiraled together, forming the slowly spinning visage of a spiral galaxy.

"Incredible..." Zatanna gasped, "This summoning is on a level all its own. This king of yours is on the level of Gods."

Finally, something began to form over the small galaxy. Batman's expression quickly softened, much to the surprise of his teammates. It was mere seconds before they understood, as a black blob full of white stars formed into the shape of a boy. The blob had spiky 'bangs' if you could call them that and eerie, glowing green eyes.

The squishmallow floated into the boy's arms and he squeezed it excitedly. At the same time, he took on a far more human form, with pale skin and snowy white hair. His eyes had whites now but still glowed green. He was dressed in black and white, royal attire with green accents, a black crown floating in a green aurora, and a black ring with a green stone. A black cape flowed down his back, its underside looking as if it were cut from a clear night sky.

"Awesome offering, dude! What can I do for ya?"

The voice was a reedy tenor in the throes of puberty, and its owner was more than a little geeky. The boy's smile was infectious, or it would have been were it not for the specific circumstance.

"How old are you?" Batman asked, his tone soft, "We weren't expecting a child."

The boy waved him off like it was nothing.

"No one ever does. And, um... technically I'm fifteen. I know, I don't look it."

Constantine cut in, clearly out of patience.

"Look, this monster Darkseid is destroying our world. We need you to stop him."

The boy turned in the air and took in the destruction around him. Somehow, he seemed to understand the situation immediately.

"Okay, but I gotta get permission first. This'll take a lot of power." He paused, taking a breath, and then yelled in a strange language. "Mom!"

Constantine paled and the other heroes shrank back as a green portal tore into existence. A young woman, barely an adult herself, floated out. She had waist-length blue hair and the same glowing, green eyes. She wore a royal outfit in white and maroon, complete with a glittering, silver tiara studded with rubies.

"What's the matter, Danny? Are you okay?"

Danny nodded.

"Mhmm! These guys need me to take out this Darkseid guy, though. Can I use my full power?"

Constantine snuck a drink from his flask. He did not sign up to deal with the fucking Queen Mother of the Infinite Realms, nor had he known she existed. God, he needed a smoke...

The Queen Mother smiled softly and pressed a kiss to her son's forehead. She spoke whilst taking his new plush.

"Yes, Danny, you may. Let me hold onto this for you so it doesn't get dirty."

Danny nodded and turned away.

"Okay, thanks mom!"

The Queen Mother vanished through and with the portal she had created. Moments later, Danny shot off into the city, with the remaining able-bodied heroes hot on his trail. The young king reached Darkseid rather quickly, engaging him while the Leaguers looked on from cover. Darkseid was foolishly amused.

"A child dares oppose me? Flee, whelp."

Batman tensed as Darkseid unleashed his Omega Effect. Two red beams shot from his eyes, and yet the young king floated firm. Two eerie, green beams shot from his own eyes and, to the shock of everyone, overpowered his foe's. Darkseid shattered into many tiny pieces which then vanished into thin air.

"Man, he really wasn't smart!" Danny grinned, "Who fires a death beam at the king of the dead?"

He received no response, as the heroes were too stunned to speak. Smiling, he saluted the group before tearing open another portal.

"Oh well; villain gone, carry on. Later guys!"

Batman glared at Constantine, but the Brit had already absconded. Heaving a sigh, he resigned himself to this new reality. Darkseid was gone, but there was an incredible new power to worry about.

(Note: My only source of information is DP canon, DP fanon, and the Justice League cartoons from the early '00s. I apologize for any inaccuracies with Batman's or Constantine's behavior.)

[sparrows4bats]

Pregnant Damian started as a joke, but now I have ideas.

Idk if this is omegaverse, ftm Damian or an in-Universe explanation. But you get to decide whatever makes you happy.

Jon realises Damian is pregnant first. Like his father before him, he hears his child's heartbeat while lying in bed with his boyfriend.

At first, he thinks he is imagining it. The heartbeat is so faint and so fast that Jon just stops for a minute, but it is definitely there.

Damian, who is reading beside him, is very confused when Jon puts his head on his stomach and starts crying.

"What's happening here?"

Jon sobbing. "I'm going to be a dad!"

"Wait, what?!"

"You're pregnant!"

Damian needs to take a breathe and process.

"Oh. Ooooh!"

Jon looks up at Damian, who looks shocked but not unhappy at the news. He stands on his knees and kisses Damian helplessly.

"We're going to be dads!" He yells when the kiss breaks.

Damian smiles back. "Yeah, we are, Hayseed. But are you okay with this? It is sudden and definitely not planned," He asks a little nervously.

Jon takes his boyfriends hand. "I'm so happy. I love you, and I can't wait to have a family with you." Placing kisses all over Damians face reverently.

"I got that! And you didn't wait! We've only been dating for a few weeks, and our families don't even know about our relationship yet." Damian answers, giggling at the ticklish feeling.

Jon abruptly stops and pales. "Your Dad is going to kill me!"

"Batman doesn't kill."

"I knocked you up before marrying you. He'll make an exception!"

Damian scrunches his nose at the phrasing. Jon gets up and starts to pace.

"And if he doesn't do it, your siblings will!"

"You're being dramatic."

"I'm really not! Red hood will laugh as he shoots me."

"If you're that nervous, let's not tell them yet, I need to get it confirmed medically first anyway"

"Let's do that!" Jon agrees relieved, but he knows he is just prolonging the inevitable. He curls up with Damian again, rubbing a hand over his flat stomach.

"I love you, sweetheart, and our little accident."

"You are not calling our child that Corn Cob!"

Damian books an appointment for during his lunch break the next day. Jon holds his hand as they await the results, practically vibrating.

"Congratulations, Dr. Wayne, you are pregnant. If you get up on the table, we can do an ultrasound."

Damian lies there while Jon stares transfixed at the screen. "You look to be about 8 weeks along going by the growth and cardiac activity."

Jon tears up at the sight of the little blob.

Damian, while also emotional, silently groans.

Jon likely got him pregnant the first time they slept together. He mentally vows that none of his family will ever know. He'd prefer his child's other father kryptonite free if possible.

Afterwards, the two agree not to say anything until 12 weeks. Damian knows the statistics, but carefully doesn't mention them to his boyfriend, who is already acting overprotective.

Unfortunately, like most things Damian plans, it does not work out like that.

There's an invasion AGAIN, and Damian is called in by his father for field medicine.

As soon as Nightengale arrives, Superman 2.0 is attached to his side. Ignoring all orders to go help in a different area. Damian tries to argue with him but quickly learns it does nothing.

"You shouldn't even be out here, and I am not risking anything!" Jon yells stubbornly.

Damian just moves around treating patients with his bodyguard. No hostile gets anywhere near them.

The original Superman flies over after the worst of the threat, has subsided with an annoyed Batman to ask his son what the hell is going on when he stops midstep.

"You're Pregnant?!"

Damian, who is changing his gloves and is exhausted by now, pinches his nose with a groan. He forgot that if Jon can pick up on the fact he's pregnant, all of the kryptonitians can.

Batman growls. "What?" Like the word had been punched out of him.

Jon is looking sheepish but luckily doesn't say anything as Damian glares at their fathers. "Yes, I found out very recently. Now we can discuss this later! I have other patients to see!"

All three of the heroes object vehemently, and Damian is forcefully moved to the Watchtower. Any injured heroes are brought up to him.

Jon finally focuses on the invasion, even if his Dad gives him odd looks.

After clean up and Damian patcheing up his brothers (who once again try to hide their injuries from him), a very serious looking Batman walks into the medbay where Nightengale and Nightwing are trying to get a very stubborn Red Robin to rest.

"You're pregnant, and you didn't tell me!"

Dick and Tim turn to their brother in shock.

"Damian what the fuck!" Dick screams while Tim looks at the drip in his arm suspiciously.

"I found out last week. I'm only 9 weeks along. I wasn't going to tell anyone for another three weeks at least!"

Dick clutches his imaginary pearls.

Bruce looks like he swallowed a lemon at the confirmation. "You still went out on the field in your condition?"

"You asked me to! I was there for med support, and I was perfectly safe." Damian runs a hand over his stomach subconsciously.

Bruce is having a full-blown crisis now and it would be funny if Damian wasn't so nervous.

Bruce stops suddenly as something occurs to him. "Whose the father?"

Damian grits his teeth. "Take a wild guess, Batman!"

Just as Dick, Tim, and Bruce open their mouths to reply. Both Supermen enter the medbay.

"Sugar! Everything okay? Do you need to sit down?" Jon runs over to the increasingly irritated doctor, checking his abdomen with x ray vision before sighing and nuzzling his boyfriends neck like an affectionate dog.

"Well, that answers that question, doesn't it." Tim remarks in as Dick and Bruce stare at the two in growing horror.

"Jonathan, I am fine!"

"I'm so glad!" The kryptonitian kissing Damians forehead and resting a hand on his stomach.

The quiet is interrupted by a sobbing Clark Kent. "I'm going to be a grandad!" No doubt listening to the second heatbeat coming from Damian.

Damian thinks 'like father like son.'

Clarks' words seem to break Bruce out of his shock. He starts smiling at his youngest son only to frown when he sees how Jon has attached himself to Damian.

It's Dick who asks the dreaded question, "How long have you two been together? And why didn't you tell me Dami?!"

Jon, who is distracted by trying to meld them together, apparently, makes the very stupid decision and answers, "A little over two months!"

Damian resists the urge to face palm as his family does the very simple math.

The gathered bats start to glare again.

"What." Dick says, his voice deceptively calm.

"We started dating two months ago."

"Habibi, shut up. Now."

"So you just impregnated my son?!" Bruce starts striding forward reaching for his utility belt.

"It was an accident!" Jon backs away.

"Obviously." Seethes Tim, already on his com, no doubt informing the rest of the bats of the price that's now on Jons head. Dick looks ready to join Bruce in beating him with kryptonite.

Jon looks to his own father for help, but Clark is too busy still crying in the corner.

Damian steps between the two quickly. "A happy accident! Jon and I are very excited. You're going to have a grandchild, Father." Damian looks at his father pleadingly.

It seems to work because all of Bruce's attention goes to Damian, and he melts.

"I know, habibi. I'm very happy, but you're so young."

"You adopted Richard at my age. And he was an entire child."

Batman concedes the point.

The rest of their family are called to the Manor, so Damian can get telling the rest of them over with. Because for people with secret identities, they're the biggest gossips.

The Kents cry (it's a family trait) and are very excited. Lois hugs Damian in joy and offers tips on handling being pregnant with a kryptonitian. Kon makes some very crude jokes that Ma Kent smacks him over the head for.

Kara explains the traditional rites for children on Krypton and starts planning a naming ceremony with Clark almost immediately. Damian is touched and shares his own traditions from his childhood that are a mix of Chinese and Arabic. All four discuss how to meld them at length.

Jon is just so full of love that he can't contain it.

Pa Kent does take his grandson aside to tell him that he is happy, but Jon has got to be responsible for his family now. Damian and his child deserve the best.

Jon agrees wholeheartedly but blushes when Ma tells him off for getting Damian pregnant so quickly and that she expects to see a ring at some point.

The bats are no less enthused. They are all very happy for Damian, of course, but after the hugs and offers of support, they glare at Jon and non too subtly check their personal kryptonite stashes.

Bruce actually smiles now that he has had time to process, talking about the trust fund, education fund, and other insurance he has already set up for the baby. (How he had the time to do so no one knows.)

While Damian is distracted trying to pry himself from a weeping Dick Grayson and overexcited Stephanie, Alfred delivers the most polite but terrifying list of his expectations ever.

When Jon nods along and promises that he is not going anywhere and has been in love with Damian for years, only then does the elderly butler smile.

(Jon once again wonders what Alfred did before joining Wayne Manor. Because he has faced villains less scary.)

Damian spends hours trying to convince his father that no, he is not going to move back into the Manor while he's pregnant or when the baby comes. (Bruce builds him a nursery anyway, just in case. His other children roll their eyes.)

When Talia finds out, she declares war on every kryptonitian as payback for Jonathan Kent 'defiling' her baby. The fight only ends when Damian steps in and promises that Talia is welcome to visit as long as she stops trying to kill his in-laws.

Talia, then, rather quickly gets into a buying war with Bruce. Not that they tell Damian after he gave out to them both about the silk baby clothes he received.

All gifts will be delivered when the baby is born and he can't say no.

During the next few months, when Damian starts to show. Many people who knew Damian when he was younger and had not taken to the time to observe anything or get to know the boy at all offer Jon and Bruce condolences on Damians pregnancy hormones and tell the young Super advice on being patient with his crazy partner.

They quickly have to deal with a very angry Super and Batman. The Watchtower learns to never speak of Nightengale in anything close to a negative ever again. Most still shiver at the memories, made worse when the rest of the bats find out what was said.

What they don't realise is that Damian is actually the patient one.

Jon panicks at every little development and spends nine months trying to serve his every whim even if Damian doesn't say anything!

Damians co-workers hold a baby shower and Jon is threatened by an army of nurses in bright pink scrubs to do right by their favourite young doctor.

And when Jon isn't there, the rest of his family is!

The rest of the Supers and Bats are overprotective and clingy to the extreme.

Dick practically moves in despite Damian changing the locks.

Cassandra especially enjoys feeling the baby kick.

Tim does way too much research, Jason goes crazy buying books, and Stephanie tries to convince them to paint the nursery purple.

Duke starts a betting pool. And Jon is pretty sure Kon is fighting the bats to win the best uncle already.

Damian does not have a moment of peace.

At least his boyfriend is willing to fly halfway across the world to get him a very specific dumpling he is craving at 3am.

His father is still campaigning for him to move home, going so far as to bribe him with a puppy.

When Jon gets called away on a two week mission while Damianis is in his third trimester, the man seriously considers giving up being a hero.

Clark is just about able to convince him not to, but strict paternity leave for all heroes is negotiated.

While his partner is gone, Damian does move to the Manor temporarily because Alfred promises to feed him.

Bruce tries everything to get him to stay after Jon is back. It almost works.

When Damian goes into labour a week early, you would swear he was actively dying with how Jon reacted.

[yan-randomfandom]

yandere viktor with an innocent and naive reader but with magical abilities, where the reader knows how to use simple magic like conjuring plants or controlling water... ((the reader only knows the basics of magic, since no one taught it and this magic would be the only one so far who knows how to do it, and the reader was a little scared of being in a rush or being studied like a lab rat because she has magic, but she confided her secret to Viktor...)) Why do you do that?

Y!Viktor x GN!Mage!Reader

a/n: posting this before act 2 omg, i think i need a rewatch — btw this one only has very light yandere undertones,, ..erm

🫧 ;

"Psst. Hey, want to know a secret?"

Viktor blinked. His eyes followed the moving reflection on the iridescent river. Your figure was mirrored in the water, an unreadable expression on your face.

... He looked up, alarmed. Were you talking to him? Viktor didn't even know you.

You met his amber eyes. For whatever reason, on the edge of the cliff just above the water, you folded your legs against your chest and buried half your face in your arms.

"Well?" you pushed, voice muffled.

His mouth opened, then closed. Viktor nodded wordlessly instead.

" ... Promise me you won't tell anyone."

Without a moment's hesitation, the young boy nodded again.

He watched as you stood up and jumped steadily into the river, splashing him and his mechanical boat. A low, frustrated groan escaped him as water seeped into his clothes.

"Oh, sorry," you said as he tried to wipe the water from his face. "Let me get that for you."

Suddenly, Viktor felt his weight gradually become less unpleasant—almost refreshing, even, as if the water slid across and away from his skin and clothes.

That's when he saw it.

A small blob of water, floating in the air. It moved carefully like it was fragile.

Then came another, and another. Small specks came together until it formed one single bubble.

Abruptly, it dropped in the river. Like nothing ever happened. Viktor's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Cool, right?" you grinned. He looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, his jaw gaping. One of your hands was lifted, fingers poised in a manner of delicacy.

"You," Viktor finally spoke, stammering, his breathing ragged. "You did that? Was that... magic?"

You chuckled, settling yourself beside him. He turned to you, scooting over to make room, and met your steady gaze. “I think so. But I was serious when I said never, ever tell anyone.”

He shook his head, utterly appalled. "Is this some sort of trick?"

"I wish—"

“This is not funny,” he snarled, his demeanor shifting completely, catching you off guard. “If you’re just here to get a reaction out of me, I’d advise you and your friends to leave. Please.”

You frowned, standing up with your fists clenched. “No, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m so sorry! And I don’t… even have friends.”

Viktor searched your face.

There's nothing to suggest a lie. He's observant, and he quietly prides himself over it, but this is one of the few cases where he genuinely starts to doubt his judgment.

"But," you sighed, turning away. "I'll leave if that's what you want. Apologies."

...

"... Wait."

— 🌱

The leaves of the seedling barely moved.

"Aw," you chuckled, dropping your arm to your side. Who knew conjuring plant powers could be so draining? "Well, I tried. Let's take a break!"

He let out a choked noise, pausing his writing. "We barely started! How is it that whenever you get to try something new and amazing, you avoid it?”

...

You didn't respond immediately.

Viktor put down his notebook, looking back at you, who was blankly staring at him.

"I guess I'm... scared?" you said, tilting your head. To his surprise, you gently grabbed his hand, running your thumb across his palm.

His face warmed. He physically couldn't say or do anything.

"You're the only one who knows about this, Vik," you muttered, your eyes fixed on his rough skin. "I sprung this on you when we were kids, which is kind of hilarious, by the way, but I had a reason. In my mind, you were the only one who would understand."

He thought so, too.

Viktor couldn’t stop himself from slipping his fingers between yours. It was a good thing you weren’t looking at him—otherwise, you might’ve seen how red his face had become.

"And you told me no one will believe me," he said, and while the memory was of you giving him a serious warning, his tone was filled with nothing but endearment.

"I still stand by that," you laughed, pulling your hand away from his, much to his disappointment. You still hadn't glance at his face. He mentally scolded himself for almost hoping you would see his expression. "Especially with our age now. They'll just think you're crazy."

"I understand," he chuckled, turning away. "About that break... you want to go to our usual?"

A smile curled your lips. "Yes, please!"

— 💌

Viktor said he has a surprise for you.

Admittedly, you're feeling extremely anxious. He grew up to become a researcher, an inventor—facts that don’t surprise you.

As his best friend, a person able to do magic, while absolutely shitty at it, you know he sees you as someone with massive potential. Literally. No one else in Piltover or Zaun is known to do this. Maybe in a hundred years—who knows? You didn't even have a proper education.

...

Viktor cleared his throat. "I've been offered a position in the University of Piltover."

You froze. The letter in his fingers bore the university’s wax seal in the center, bold and unmistakable.

“Holy shit,” you blurted, your eyes darting between him and the letter. “Holy shit!”

Jumping over to Viktor, you wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace. The biggest, most triumphant smile tugged at your lips. He staggered a little, but you were too wrapped up in your happiness to notice.

"Language," he laughed, hugging you back.

You snickered. "I'm so proud of you! Words can't even begin to express how happy I am for you!"

Pulling back, your hands still rested on his shoulders. Your smile relaxed ever so slightly as your eyes gazed into his softer ones.

"I knew you could do it," you exhaled.

A small pause.

Viktor had a look. Oh, shit. What’s that smirk for?

"...You're not done," you accused, raising an eyebrow.

He lifted the letter in his hand. "I have not accepted yet."

Now, your brows knitted together in utter confusion.

"... Why not—?"

"I said I won't be going unless they let me bring a plus one."

You smile faltered, denial crossing your face. He noticed it. Did he just say what you thought you heard him say?

"Are you saying...?" Your expression shifted into worry; you didn't quite understand his point.

"I want you to come with me," Viktor said, grabbing your hand and placing the letter in your palm. "To Piltover."

Oh, no. You didn't mean to.

You panicked, pulling away, the letter slipping from your hand.

Viktor's brows furrowed. He thought you'd be happier about the news.

Then, he looked around.

It had rained just before he decided to share the news. Some raindrops were still fresh, glistening from the downpour.

And around your figure, small droplets rose into the air. The air is thick with tension.

"Viktor. You're not giving me to them, are you...?"

Defeated. That's how your voice sounded.

"Of course not," he hushed, pushing you onto a chair. "Never. Please calm down. Let me explain."

You obliged, sitting down. He sat beside you.

"I'm sorry," you spoke first, meeting his eyes. "It's not that I don't trust you. Heck, I trust you more than anyone. The thought of going up there... it just makes me anxious."

"I understand," Viktor nodded. He turned his head. "However, I promise you, I won’t let them take you away from me. You’ll be solely under my care. But I do know someone who’s willing to help us."

Viktor. So compassionate and filled with empathy. You admired him for those very reasons, not just for his brilliance. His presence feels like a whole other world to you—someone who could help you understand your abilities. Perhaps the only chance you have to truly learn who, or what you are.

"I'll be a burden."

"No. Of course not. I want you by my side."

You hesitated. Despite your family being clueless about your ability, they were still the people you cared for. You still had a life in the undercity.

"And if I refuse...?"

Viktor took a moment to respond. The thought of leaving you hurt his heart.

"You... I believe you don't have much of a choice."

You couldn't explain why, but you found it in yourself to wholeheartedly believe him.

— 💜

zamn

critique is welcome btw

[gojoest]

MDNI, f! reader, fingering, thigh fucking, creampie, satoru calls you pretty + my darling + my love, he cums so easily, wc: 1.1k, not proofread as always, bit messy too (i am so sleep deprived)

the fresh, tangy scent of coffee wafted through the air, momentarily distracting your senses from the smell of sex lingering on you from last night’s activities as you watched the coffee machine fill your mug. elbows resting on the counter as you waited for your drink, and a few seconds in—your nose adapted, you could once again distinguish the musk soaked into your skin.

you smelled like satoru — his cum, his sweat — lots of it in fact; but also like yourself. both of you combined and oiled all over your body, especially on your inner thighs.

you had noticed, in fact as soon as you got up and made your way to the kitchen — layers of his now dried load parched and glued onto the plush between your legs, reminding you of how many times he came inside you last night, ineluctably feeling its still somewhat sticky texture as your legs brushed against each other with every step.

a soft smile cracked your lips at the sound of footsteps approaching from behind you. it was time, you thought, he was coming to you.

satoru could never stay in bed too long without you. no matter what kind of deep slumber he were to be in, he’d always wake up shortly after were you to sneak out. i become restless when you’re not in my arms, he would say.

“morning”, you smiled but didn’t turn around. “coffee?”

“morning, pretty”. he stopped right behind you. you figured he was naked — the tip of his cock, hard and rigidly up already, was poking at the small of your back.

a hand slid under the oversized shirt you had quickly tossed on yourself, palming the bare cheeks of your ass — “i want some of that, definitely” — grabbing a handful and squeezing it inside his massive hand.

a hum dragged out of you, body jolting and back arching from the way the squishing caused one of his fingers to graze against your cunt, the tip of it almost prodding at your entrance. “i’m so hard, i can bust any moment”, his voice still low and loaded with sleep. there was something so undeniably sexy about the way he spoke to you in the mornings. drowsy, husky and lower than usual. “but i want it to be in you”

he rested his chin on your shoulder from behind, snaking his other arm around your waist to hold you still while the one between your legs worked the arousal out of you carefully. two digits rubbing against your folds, wiping the insides of your lips with the tips. you could feel a huge portion of your slick gathering at your entrance, threatening to blob on the floor any moment. but his hungry hand went for it first — he used his entire palm to wipe it off and then held it tightly pressed against your cunt for a few moments.

“s-shit”, you hissed, head falling down.

lifting the hem of your shirt you watched as his fingers peeked from in front. it was such an obscene view — your entire pussy inside his massive palm.

“can’t have you making a mess here, my darling. it’s the kitchen after all — it’s where we eat”, he pulled his hand away only to smear your slick all over his cock with a few slow strokes.

“says the man who’s fucked me on every possible surface in this very kitchen”

“almost every surface — i didn’t fuck you by the coffee machine, you see”, the smug in his voice was evident, “gotta fix that now. you just stay still and pretty the way you are”

bending his knees he lowered himself just enough to sneak his cock between the gap of your legs and brought your thighs together with his hands forcing them to clench around him. you smiled after realizing what he was up to. “can you cum from this?”, you looked at him over your shoulder.

“i can cum just by being next to you, my darling”, he breathed out a moan at the friction around his throbbing cock, pushing himself forward and effortlessly sliding across your sopping cunt all thanks to the little prep sesh from before.

“oh, f-fuck—“, satoru quivered when you took his tip poking out from in front and pressed it against your clit. “—fuck”, squeezing your thighs, bringing them more together, he settled into a rhythm of slowly drawing his hips back and forth into the slippery crevasse between your legs. “keep holding it like that… please, my love—it makes your lips kiss my cock”, he groaned through yet another slow thrust forward. the squelching noises, too, they were fucking with his brain. the vast ocean of you was right before him, yet he was only dipping his feet. regardless, it felt so fucking good.

“of course, baby”, you breathed, holding his cock flat against yourself from the underside — helping the upper side grind harder against your pussy, rubbing it on your clit each time he pushed himself forward. you couldn’t help but bite your lip as you watched his cock go in and out of the gap of your thighs swiftly.

“nghh..”, satoru moaned, his breathing now shallow as he felt the tingles at the base of his shaft. the tension rising in his groin rapidly, he wasn’t sure if he could endure a few more strokes without busting his balls out. “i’m sorry, love… don’t think i can hold it back…”, sweat dripping down his face and onto the back of your shoulder, he was desperately trying to keep his load under control as part of him was guilty that he was about to finish first.

“shh”, you hushed, rocking your hips against him to match his pace, to help him out. “you can cum, baby — do it for me”

your words were almost the end of him, but he managed to stop himself and paused his ministrations. pulling back from you slightly to spread his legs a bit more and grab a hold of his throbbing cock to guide it into your entrance and slowly slide it in.

“fuck” — he wasn’t even halfway in when all the tension in his balls suddenly released. he let out a loud groan, body slightly spasming as he shot a hot glob of his cum inside you…

extra:

“see — when i cum there is no mess”, his hands circled around your waist from behind (cock still inside you)

“that’s because you unload inside me. besides you haven’t pulled out yet”, you snorted, placing your hands over his.

“i’m not pulling out, yet”, his lips kissed the top of your head. “but i will ask of you to walk with me to the table”

“hmm, and why would i do that?”

“i am going to eat you there, for breakfast”

[amourquinn]

( short fic ) everything

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 1.2k

genre : extreme fluff no warnings

summary : you and quinn spend christmas eve together and it ends with a beautiful surprise

the apartment smelled like sugar and cinnamon, warm and inviting. the faint hum of a christmas playlist played in the background, filling the air with soft jingles and cheerful tunes. it was december 24, and your favorite tradition with quinn hughes was in full swing: decorating cookies.

you sat cross-legged at the kitchen island, armed with piping bags filled with brightly colored icing, sprinkles scattered across the counter. quinn stood across from you, wearing an apron he’d claimed he didn’t need—though his flour-dusted hands and icing-streaked cheek suggested otherwise.

“alright, quinn-casso,” you teased, pointing at the lopsided tree he’d just decorated. the green icing was uneven, and the star looked more like a blob.

he held it up, feigning offense. “what? this is art. you just don’t get it.”

you laughed, snapping a picture with your polaroid camera. the flash caught him mid-eye-roll, flour still smudged on his cheek.

“add it to the collection,” you said, shaking the photo and setting it on the counter to develop.

the collection was an assortment of candid photos you’d been taking all month—quinn tangled in christmas lights, the two of you picking out a tree, him wearing the santa hat you’d forced on him. the pictures were scattered on the fridge, a chaotic but charming timeline of your holiday season together.

“fine,” quinn said, grabbing another cookie. “but if you’re going to document this, i’m going to make the best-looking snowman you’ve ever seen.”

you leaned on your elbow, watching him carefully pipe white icing onto the cookie. his tongue poked out slightly in concentration, a detail that made your heart swell.

“not bad,” you admitted as he added tiny sprinkle buttons.

“‘not bad’? that’s perfection,” he said, placing it on the tray with a satisfied grin.

you shook your head, laughing softly. “i guess i’ll give you that one.”

the two of you worked through the tray of cookies, decorating everything from candy canes to reindeer. you captured moments on your polaroid as you went: quinn sticking sprinkles on his nose to make you laugh, you holding up a cookie shaped like a heart, and the tray of finished cookies, a chaotic mix of skill and whimsy.

when the cookies were done, you both collapsed onto the couch with mugs of hot chocolate. the christmas tree twinkled softly in the corner, the ornaments catching the glow of the lights.

“i think we outdid ourselves this year,” quinn said, holding up a cookie shaped like a stocking.

“speak for yourself,” you teased, holding up one of your own. “mine are way better.”

he rolled his eyes, nudging your shoulder with his. “you’re lucky i love you.”

you smiled, leaning into him. “i know.”

⋆˙⟡

as the night wore on, the stack of polaroids grew. quinn had taken over the camera at some point, snapping pictures of you mid-laugh or caught off guard. one photo in particular made you laugh—a close-up of your face, icing smeared on your cheek.

“quinn! i wasn’t ready for that one!”

“that’s the point,” he said, smirking.

eventually, it was time for the part of the evening you both looked forward to the most: exchanging gifts.

“okay,” you said, hopping off the couch and grabbing a small, neatly wrapped box from under the tree. “you first.”

quinn set his mug down, his eyes lighting up as he took the box. “you know you didn’t have to get me anything, right?”

“yeah, yeah,” you said, waving him off. “just open it.”

he carefully unwrapped the box, lifting the lid to reveal a vintage hockey puck encased in glass. his jaw dropped.

“is this…”

you nodded, grinning. “it’s from your first-ever college game. i found it online, and the guy who had it was willing to sell. i thought you’d want to have it.”

he stared at it for a moment, his fingers brushing the glass. “this is amazing. thank you.”

his voice was soft, and when he looked up at you, his expression was full of gratitude. he set the puck down and leaned over to kiss you, his lips warm and lingering against yours.

“alright,” he said, pulling back. “your turn.”

he stood and grabbed a box from behind the tree. it was big, wrapped in shiny gold paper with a perfectly tied bow.

“wow,” you said, taking it from him. “someone went all out.”

“just open it,” he said, his grin mischievous.

you tore into the paper, lifting the lid to reveal… a polaroid camera. not just any camera, though—it was a custom design, your initials etched into the side, and the strap was embroidered with tiny snowflakes.

“quinn,” you breathed, running your fingers over the details.

“i know how much you love taking pictures,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “so i thought you’d like something a little more special.”

you set the box aside and threw your arms around him, holding him tightly. “it’s perfect. thank you.”

for a moment, the two of you just stood there, wrapped in each other. the night felt perfect, like something out of a storybook.

“actually…” quinn pulled back slightly, a nervous edge to his voice.

“what?” you asked, your brow furrowing.

he reached into his pocket, and he took out a neatly wrapped box. it wasn’t the biggest gift, but there was something about the way he held it, his expression a mix of nerves and excitement, that made your heart race.

“quinn…” you started, but he cut you off with a small smile.

“here.”

you unwrapped the box carefully, lifting the lid to reveal a delicate silver ring. It wasn’t flashy, but it was beautiful, a small diamond set into the band, understated and perfect. your breath caught in your throat.

“it’s not what you think,” quinn said quickly, rubbing his left arm. it’s not… you know, that ring. not yet, anyway.”

you looked up at him, your heart pounding. “so it’s—”

“it’s a promise ring,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “i know we’re not there yet, but i wanted you to know how serious i am about us. that i want this—you—for the long haul. this is my way of saying i’m all in, even if we’re not at the finish line yet.”

tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you stared at him, at the boyish grin on his face and the sincerity in his eyes.

“quinny…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“i love you,” he said, reaching for your hand. “and i just wanted you to know that.”

you nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek as you let him slide the ring onto your finger. “i love you too. so much.”

he let out a breath, relief washing over his face as he pulled you into his arms. for a moment, the world outside disappeared, leaving just the two of you wrapped in each other.

when you finally pulled back, you held up your hand, admiring the ring. “this is perfect. you’re perfect.”

quinn smiled, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “i wouldn’t say perfect. my cookies were… mediocre.”

you laughed, swatting his arm. “hey, don’t ruin the moment.”

the night went on, filled with more moments that you knew you’d treasure forever. and as you sat there, leaning against quinn with the soft glow of the tree around you, you couldn’t help but think that this christmas was everything you’d ever wanted—and more.

© amourquinn

[ultravi0lence14]

Born In The U.S.A

dean winchester x angel!reader

1.3k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: in a spur of the moment decision, dean decides to take his wide eyed angel on a road trip to see all of his favourite places in america.

“dean, are we there yet?” your sweet voice drifted through the small confines of baby, sending a smile onto dean’s face as he counted that being the fourth time you’ve said that in the span of five minutes.

you were so used to flying wherever you needed to go, that it took dean a good couple of months to explain to you that driving took a little more time than your usual choice of wing transportation.

he gave your thigh a light squeeze with the hand resting on it, turning his head slightly so he could see your bewildered expression. “almost there, sweets. just another hour or so.”

you and dean had spent the past couple of days in the impala together, driving around different places in america so he could show you his all time favourite spots.

he had realized you didn’t know much about earth, and in a last minute decision, he whisked you away from the bunker and left sam and cas to deal with any up coming cases.

dean hadn’t expected you to be so ecstatic. he was expecting you to worry about leaving the workload on sam and your brother. though he was greatly surprised when you jumped into his arms, hands hugging tightly around his neck as you peppered countless kisses on his face and neck.

the excitement confused him slightly, asking you why you weren’t worried. you just smiled at him, revealing that you’ve been undergoing an unfamiliar feeling of need for dean and just dean. you wanted some alone time with him, and dean winchester wasn’t one to complain about that.

so the two of you set off on your journey, the open road and dean’s favourite american destinations in front of you.

the stops you two had been on were pretty eventful. dean had started off in chicago, parking his car and taking you on a stroll throughout the city. you were confused on what he wanted to show you until the two of you stopped in front of what dean called ‘the big bean’. you looked at him bewildered, dean’s excited face confusing you more. your lips parted with lack of words before you looked at dean with a subtle look of wonder. “why is it called that, dean? it’s just a giant, metal blob.”

he followed up your trip to chicago with the next stop being in north carolina. dean brought the two of you to a truck stop, explaining that this was the first place his dad let him drive the impala. he followed that up with going inside the small convenience store attached and buying you a shirt that said ‘truck life or no life’. he ended up taking a picture of you wearing the shirt, you wearing an even more confused face to match. he posted it to his friends only facebook page, the caption reading, “my angel is better than yours.”

your last stop was in minnesota, dean pulling into a sleepy looking diner that had you fearing for what he had up his sleeve. though you were thoroughly surprised that all dean had in mind was expressing his love for what he called ‘the best apple pie in the whole damn world.’

countless times you told him it was a waste of time to come here. that all food tasted like molecules and you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it. dean didn’t seem to care though. he just kissed you on the cheek, leaving a slight residue of apple filling as he spoke through a mouthful of pie, “with you here, it’s all i could ever dream of.”

now you two had been driving for a day or two, not stopping until you got to maine; per dean’s request. you didn’t know what he had in store for this state, but you were starting to get antsy trying to figure out what it could be.

dean seemed way to calm for your liking. classic rock cassette taps playing in the background as his fingers tapped the beat on your leg. the angelic side of you wanted to worry, but the other side that loved and trusted dean with your entire being said otherwise.

as he turned onto a dirt road that was off the side of the highway, your bewilderment grew ten fold, not understanding where dean was going to take you. the impala rumbled to a stop, your curiosity leading you to lean forward and get closer to the windshield to a get a better look at where dean had taken you.

in an instant it all made sense. the willow tree that overlooked a mossy pond took over your vision, and dean was grinning ear to ear as you whipped your head to look at him with a surprised smile on your face.

“dean,” you breathed out, opening the car door and stepping out into the earthy atmosphere. “this is the place where we met for the first time.”

“it is, sweets. possibly the best place america has to offer.” the grin on dean’s face could outshine a million suns, following behind you as you slowly walked towards the droopy tree. the two of you had met here around one year ago; castiel had heard static over angel radio, implying at a rogue angel was coming down to earth.

you’d rebelled like cas, seeing all the good that he was doing for humanity and disagreeing with the harsh and lucrative beliefs of the angels. when you fell underneath that willow tree, wings and grace gone, you were so confused, harbouring the knowledge of millennia and eons with no knowledge in how humans operated in today’s society.

when cas quickly transported sam and dean to the location in a remote location in maine, the group of three found you huddled underneath the willow tree, soaked to the bone from landing in the pond and shaking like a leaf. your knees were brought to your chest and you were rocking back and forth, reminding dean of a petulant child who just got caught doing something they shouldn’t.

the brother’s decided that cas should approach you. and when he did, you looked up at him with these big and wet eyes that had dean’s heart breaking in half. he heard you mumble a, “why do i feel like this, castiel? why is there this hollow pit in my stomach making everything feel so empty?”

“you’re experiencing human emotions, most likely a sense of heavy sadness.” his gentle nature and smile brightened your face a bit, allowing you to follow his actions as he softly gripped your elbow and raised you to your feet.

“come with us,” dean spoke lighter than he’s ever heard himself. “we’ll teach you how to live.”

the rest was history, and now, dean stood under the same tree where he saw you for the first time. he remembers how scared you were that day, eyes fleeting over the bunker like something was going to jump out and kill you.

for a couple of months you were in a rough place. missing your brother’s and sister’s while slowly adapting to human life. dean was by your side the whole time, and those moments spent together was what grew the profound bond between you two. this is when dean started to feel his heart stop and clench anytime you came into a room; the time he fell in love with you.

“dean, this is amazing.” there was a teary lilt to your voice, and in an instant you’d turned around and collapsed into dean’s arms. he was warm against the biting air, bringing you close into his body as his hands found purchase in stroking your hair.

“thank you.” the two words left your mouth in breaths, smushing against dean’s chest as he smiled down at you, leaving a kiss on the crown of your head.

pulling away from you at an arms length, following up by wrapping his arm around your shoulder, dean walked the two of you towards the willow tree, a little smile decorating his face. “honestly angel, we can just tell people you were born here. no one needs to know. though to me, you’ll always be born in the u.s.a.”

“isn’t that the song sam likes?”

“oh sweetheart, i have so much more to teach you.”

*dean totally has a facebook account with only ten followers where he posts almost 10 times a day and i’ll die on that hill.

tags: @a1ecmcdowell @jasvtsc @ostaramoon @cosmicanakin @fallbhind @aylacavebear @rubyvhs

[softjeekies]

Waiting After The Rain

↳ chapter 4

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Pairing: ot8!stray kids x pregnant omega!reader

Synopsis: An omega pregnant and alone after being kicked out by their alpha stumbles upon a pack willing to take them in and care for both the omega and their pup as if they were their own, because now they are.

Genre: strangers to lovers, angsty but lots of fluff to even it out.

Warnings: a/b/o, past abuse physical and verbal, mentions of past sexual abuse(mentions of past non-con), mentions of past violence, trauma, self esteem issues, pregnancy, aftermath of abuse, panic attacks, anxiety, pack dynamics, angst but it will be okay, polyamory

A/N: Thanks again for all the love, please enjoy this chapter!!

It’s been so long since you’ve been in a doctor’s office. You’d forgotten how awful it smells, so clean, too clean, you don’t miss the smell at all. Your alpha always had strong opinions on doctors and hospitals, as the rose colored glasses began to crack you think maybe he wanted to hide what he was doing to you. From across the room, Chan’s alpha whine pulls you out of your thoughts, you forgot he was there, let alone that he could smell your not-so-nice thoughts. Before you can let him know you’re fine the doctor comes in.

“Hello there, Ms. Y/LN. I’m Dr. Kim. It's nice to meet you.” She’s a gorgeous omega; any alpha would be lucky to have her.

“Hi.” It’s all you can muster the courage to say, it feels wrong sitting here.

“Chan let me know that you come from a complicated situation. So while I will need to examine you, I know this is a lot for you so I’d like to calm your nerves by checking on the baby first, how does that sound?” Your baby. You finally get to see your baby.

“Okay.” You take it upon yourself to lie back while she gets the ultrasound equipment together. Your scent sours almost immediately with negative thoughts, and a familiar fear rests in your chest. But with your belly out on full display you can’t help but feel a pair of alpha eyes resting on it. Your body tells you to flee, that he will hurt your pup, you take a deep breath trying to disperse the nasty thoughts.

“It’s gonna be a little cold, but that’s normal. If you get uncomfortable at any point let me know and we will stop.” You nod as she places the wand on your belly, you wait with baited breath, a part of you afraid there won’t be any- heartbeat. It sounds like music to your ears, the sound erupts a purr from your chest. Your heart bursts with love, that’s your pup. You smile looking intently at the baby blob on the screen.

“I know you told Chan you’re about ten weeks along but from what I’m looking at while the baby isn’t quite at the size we’d like them to be for this gestational age, the baby’s feature developments tell me you are closer to the sixteen-week mark.” And just like that it feels like your world collapses as you burst into tears. You had probably been pregnant for six weeks before you even realized and took a test, and now your baby wasn’t growing at the correct pace and it’s all your fault. You’re the worst mom in the world just like Alpha said you would be. Through your tears and the ringing in your ears you can hear Chan’s growl and your heart breaks at the thought that he’s mad at you for hurting your baby.

“Woah there Alpha. Why don’t you comfort your omega instead of shooting the messenger? I know this is new for both of you, but Chan you know I would never purposely harm your omegas.” The doctor huffs at Chan as he thinks for a moment before moving the chair closer to the bed but not daring to touch you.

“Hey, it’s okay, yeah? Let’s stop crying and listen to the doctor to see what we can do to get your pup nice and healthy.” Chan gives you a smile as your cries turn to sniffles and you wipe away the tears. You take a deep breath ready to listen again.

“Ok so, while the baby is behind in growth, they are developing nicely, you just need to start eating more, the pup needs lots of nutrients and you will do, creating a baby is draining. Now that you are in a healthy and stable environment that shouldn’t be an issue right? So there’s no need to cry, you had no control over your situation but now you’ve fixed it and you and your pup are going to be healthy and happy. If I know anything about Chan’s pack and how they treat their omegas, you are in good hands.” The doctor smiles as she cleans off your belly, You keep your head down, so disappointed in yourself, and now the pack will have to take care of you more, you ruin everything.

“Now, this is gonna be the hard part. I’d like to do a full exam on you, they mentioned some bruises so I’d like to see those, I’ll ask a few questions as well afterwards. Do you want me to have Chan leave?” You can’t bring yourself to look at Chan, you’re terrified to depend on anyone right now, but you can’t do this alone.

“He can stay.” The doctor nods and if your ears weren’t still ringing you would have heard the tiniest purr come from Chan’s chest. After the basic tests are done and the doctor confirms that all your bruises will just go away with time, she motions for you to have a seat on the bed. You keep your eyes on your lap while your legs dangle off the bed, waiting for what’s to come.

“Forewarning Y/N these questions will be intense as we go along so if you need to take a break just say the word, We’ll start easy, just some stuff to break the ice.” You nod signaling for her to ask.

“How old are you?”

“23”

“What’s your favorite movie?”

“Rapunzel.”

“What does nesting look like for you day to day?”

“I don’t nest.” Chan gasps at your answer but stays quiet.

“How much do you eat in a day?”

“Before Chan’s pack, I ate whatever my alpha portioned for me at mealtimes, he said he needed more food than I do because omegas are meant to be small.” You wince, she was right, these questions are getting tough.

“When I was looking over your bruises I noticed some rashes, Do you know what those are from?”

“My alpha wouldn’t buy me the special omega body wash, said it wasn’t necessary, that could be it.”

“That makes sense, omega skin is more sensitive than alpha or beta skin. I’m sure that won’t be an issue anymore though. Now, do you feel safe?” What kind of question is that? Sure you feel safer than you did a couple of days ago, but not safe, nothing is safe.

“I feel safer than I did before.” You’re honest, honest is good.

“Has anyone ever forced themselves on you or touched you without your consent?” Your breath hitches, and suddenly there isn’t enough air in the world to satisfy your body. In a daze, you reach out your hand to Chan and he takes it without a second thought.

“Hey, it’s okay, just breathe, answer when you’re ready.” Chan slides a gentle thumb over your hand not letting go. You can do this.

“Yes. Many times. I’m not sure how many times. I don’t want to talk about it.” Tears slip past your eyelashes, this is unbearable.

“That’s okay. I ask this question to not only gauge your comfort levels but it lets me know if we need to do a pelvic exam, which I think we should, as long as you are comfortable with that.”

“Okay.” You let out a deep sigh and completely blacked out. You feel like you’re watching your life happen in front of you, like you’re drowning and you can’t hear anything, you only come to the surface again once the exam is over and you realize, your hand is still in Chan’s. He helps you off the table so you can put your pants back on. The doctor is going on about how everything looks good, she mentions something about meals you think, but you can’t hear, your focus remains on your hand in Chan’s.

As you both stand at the front desk, the kind nurse behind the window hands you the sonogram photos and continues to talk to Chan. Now your focus is on the pictures, your baby, so small, so perfect, all yours.

“Okay, let’s go,” Chan says and guides you outside to the car, his hand doesn’t leave until you make it there and the passenger side door is open to let you in.

Everything feels kind of hazy, that was, a lot. Chan agrees too.

“I know that was a lot for you so we don’t have to but I had this whole plan to ask you if you wanted to go get some clothes and anything else you need. We can also go get food, anything you want.” Chan’s voice wavers awkwardly, like he’s a child asking their mom to go out tonight.

“I don’t have any money.”

“Oh, yeah I assumed. I planned to pay for you, everything is my treat today.” You moved your head to look at him, your face contorted in confusion.

“Why would you do that? You can’t do that.”

“I want to. I said I would take care of you two and I meant that.”

“Only because I don’t want to steal Felix’s clothes anymore. I will pay you back as soon as I can.”

“I won’t let you but if it makes you feel better I’ll let you think that.” Chan smiles and begins to drive out of the doctor’s office parking lot.

Chan explained to you how Han and Felix loved shopping here, it’s basically a one-stop shop for omegas, they had everything from clothes to nesting materials.

Chan grabbed a cart and gestured for you to look at the clothes. You decided to please the alpha by trying to look through the racks, picking out a few things that speak to you and will fit your growing body. You’re used to someone picking out your clothes for you, so this is bizarre. You find a few dresses that call your name so sweetly, you know dresses are popular for pregnant omegas due to the lack of restriction on your stomach but you’ve always yearned for dresses. Your alpha didn’t like you wearing them, he said they made you a whore. So you hesitate, holding onto a dress and looking back at Chan nervously.

“I think you’d look gorgeous in that!” He smiles, a real genuine smile that’s so sweet it makes you sick. You stare at the way his eyes crinkle just a bit too long, never wanting to forget that look, a blush sweeps across your face at the encounter, oh you’re screwed. With the alpha’s unknown permission secured you feel okay to grab a few dresses, a content purr leaves your throat before you let Chan know you’ve got what you needed.

“You said you don’t nest.” The alpha’s words spook you causing him to giggle.

“Well, I wasn’t allowed to. I’ve never even had a proper nest before in my life so I’ve learned to fight the urge. I don’t think I’d be any good at it anymore.”

“We’re gonna change that then.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna go to the nesting materials section and you’re going to pick out whatever your omega wants, and we will go home and Felix and Han will help you make a nest.”

“That’s not necessary.” You can’t help but look away from him, once again embarrassed by your past.

“It is, especially now that you’re pregnant, you need to nest.”

Nest. Build a big nest and invite Alpha in.

You blush at your omega’s inner monologue and in order to hide that from Chan you huff and walk towards the nesting material.

There’s so much stuff to pick from, it’s overwhelming, pillows, blankets, sheets, anything you could think of for a nest it was in these aisles.

“I’m not sure what I want, how do I know what I want?” The look you give Chan breaks his heart, This was supposed to come naturally for you, and here you were looking at him for the answers.

“Han usually touches everything to see what he wants, maybe try that?” His words are encouraging, giving you the strength to take his advice.

Everything is so soft, that you know for sure. Your omega leads you to a few different blankets, you’re not too intrigued by the pillows but you find a floppy long one that your omega tells you would be good as a border to the nest. Once you think you’re satisfied you turn to Chan asking for permission to be done and he agrees no questions asked.

“So, what do you wanna eat? Anything you want!” Chan smiles at you from the driver’s seat, eager to treat you.

“Whatever you want, today is all about you, I want to get you a nice meal, you deserve it okay? Don’t think too hard about it, just tell me what you’re craving and we will go get it.”

“Chicken.”

“What was that love?” Your heart skips a beat and you have to put your head against the window to hide your blush.

“I want fried chicken, please.”

“Of course sweetheart.” You can hear the massive grin on his face as he starts the car and drives off.

Chan lets you out of the car and keeps his hand out, a peace offering. He doesn’t push or take, he doesn’t even speak about it, just keeps his hand open and in your reach. So you take it, trying to push yourself because even if this is fleeting, it feels good for now.

“So what do you want? I’ll order for you!” Chan beams, still keeping your hand firmly in his.

“Hmm I don’t really like super spicy food, so the honey garlic chicken sounds nice. But if you think I should get something different, that's fine!” You blurt out the ending, suddenly nervous that you’ve upset the alpha by making a choice.

“No, you can eat whatever you want! I don’t do well with spice either so it’ll be nice to have another chicken around, maybe the guys will stop teasing me.” He lets out a laugh that leaves butterflies in your tummy, Seungmin was right, this pull, you feel it, hard. And that terrifies you.

As you sit across from Chan almost devouring your chicken you begin to hate this feeling. Like something good is right in front of you but you can’t have it, all you want is for this to be real and to finally have a pack with caring alphas but it feels too good to be true. Do you even deserve this? This feeling is magical, you almost let yourself pretend it’s real for a moment. It’s addicting, now that you’ve gotten a taste you will always want more.

“Do you like the food? This is Felix’s favorite spot, he’d eat here every day if he could. I hope we can show you more of our favorite spots, help you get to know us.” There’s that nervous twinge in his voice again, it’s endearing. You don’t think an alpha could fake that even if they tried, it’s raw and real and all Chan.

“Thank you for the food Alpha.” You say for maybe the fifth time since you got to the restaurant as you finish up your food.

“Stop thanking me, I want to take care of you, and this is a part of that. And you don’t have to call me Alpha, I’m just Chan, no need for fancy titles. Now let’s head home yeah?”

[the-kr8tor]

End of Beginning

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 18.7k

Synopsis: When the world seems to come to an end, life starts. Death looms and a virus has taken over. Life as you know it has ended and all you ever want is to see him again.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), CW pregnancy, vomit mention, TW blood and gore, CW injury, TW violence, CW death, CW guns, suggestive content, zombie apocalypse AU, established relationship, hurt/comfort, angst.

Navigation

You stare intensely at the two little red lines on the plastic stick. Heart beating out of your body while the muffled sounds of the party rattles the locked bathroom door. Your breath hitches in your throat, mouth dry and hands shaking from the mere sight of the three pregnancy tests having the same result— positive. There's no doubt about it as the double lines are as clear as day.

“Fuck.” Yuri says the exact same word you have in mind.

“F–Fuck.” You breathlessly say, voice trembling while you haven't moved an inch from where you're standing in front of the sink.

“What're you gonna do?” Yuri asks beside you, hand placed right on your shoulder as you start wobbling in place, afraid that you might keel over on the harsh tiles. “Are you gonna tell him?”

“I–I’m not sure.” You roll the simple silver band around your pinky finger. One that was given to you by Hobie a long time ago.

Finally lifting up your eyes, you stare at yourself in front of the mirror. You look disheveled, hair a mess from the concert. Your clothes still smell faintly like bile and the floor of a pub. The eyeliner around your eyes is smudged, and lips bare from all the wiping you had to do after getting sick all over James’ parents’ bathroom. You feel like a bloody mess.

It was Yuri's idea to run to the chemist's and buy different packs of tests for you after she walked in on you heaving out your dinner. Damn Yuri and her smart ass.

“I thought it was food poisoning from the shawarma we ate.” You deflate, tears threatening to spill over as you sit on the toilet.

“That place near the post office?” Yuri sighs, leaning against the cold tiles as her voice echoes around the bathroom that's as big as your living room.

You rub your palms all over your face, elbows placed atop of your knees as your body folds over itself in an attempt to calm down. There's a rock in the pit of your stomach, face clammy and lips wobbling. The soles of your feet feel numb, ebbing up to your legs and further towards your chest until it reaches your shaking hands. Your leg keeps bouncing up and down, as if it has a life of its own. You don't hear your best friend calling your name as blood rushes in your ears.

“Hey,” she kneels down in front of you, bare knees freezing from the tiles but seemingly not caring for the sensation as her kind eyes stay on you. Her leather skirt pools around her, a blob of black framing under her. “You okay?”

“Y–yeah, it's that place near the post office.” a tear slides down your cheek, and you're quick to wipe it away.

Yuri holds onto your knee, stopping the bouncing of your legs as she cups it with her palm gently and looks into your eyes. “Please don't tell me it's James'”

You pause, staring straight at her with a glare. “Bitch.”

She laughs, the sound bouncing all over the walls. “Mate,” her hand grasps your own, fondly rubbing at your sweaty palm. “You and Hobie have been together since the dawn of time. trust me, after our trip to the beach, I know it's his.”

You crumple in place, a smile slowly appearing on your lips as you hide your face. “God, you'll never let us live that down.”

“Seriously, we had to wear our noise cancelling headphones.”

“Stop!” Chuckling, you feel a bit lighter from her teasing. Just a tiny bit.

Yuri mirrors your smile, dark eyes crinkling at the corners. “What are you worried about, hm?”

You sigh, “you know what I'm worried about, Yuri.”

She shrugs and makes a face. “No, I don't, so don't waste both our time and just tell your best mate.”

Rubbing your eyes with your index finger, your entire body starts feeling the pin pricks all around you. “I just—” she patiently waits for you to gather your words. “What if he doesn't want it? That he'll leave me all because of…” you wildly gesture around your stomach.

“Are the hormones getting in your head already?” You give her a stern glare. “Babes, remember the time you accidentally broke his favourite vinyl?” You nod, wincing at the memory. “And that one time you dropped his guitar while attempting to clean it?”

“Please don't remind me, I have nightmares of breaking more shit.”

“Well, you might not remember that he never got mad at you.” Yuri smiles, taking your clenched hands and holding it in place. “He even placed the vinyl in a frame and made it look fucking cooler than before with its shattered pieces. And as for the guitar, he put a sticker of your face right on the crack and the motherfucker kisses it before every show for good luck.”

You chuckle, tears sticking to your lashes.

“All I'm saying is, he's not gonna fucking leave you because of this.” She beams at you, eyes shining from the bright light of the bathroom. “If he does, then I'm gonna help you raise that kid. But before that I have to bury him and you're gonna help me find a quiet and secluded place for him.”

You laugh, head falling down on Yuri's shoulder. “You really think so?” Your voice is small as she rubs your back.

“I know so, babes. Besides, this is his fault too.” You sniff and she holds onto you tighter. “And I know Hobie, he takes responsibility for shit he does. The one thing he truly loves in this world besides his guitar is you.” She whispers, love rolling off of her as she comforts you. “I've seen the way he looks at you, and that's not the look a man gives to someone he's ready to up and leave because of a baby.”

Your heart steadies in place as your mind flickers back to his face. Yuri's right, all those years of being in love with him, and the many years of being together would tell you that he won't bolt away from the product of all those years of loving each other. But there's that one thing you're worried about too.

“But—” you start and Yuri lifts your head up, scrunching your face in her hands.

“No buts!”

“Yuri,” you say, despite your squished lips and cheeks. “The band is just gaining traction, what if this—”

“I'm going to stop you right there.” She stands up, boots thumping on the tiles as she helps you stand up from the toilet and grabs a tissue to clean up your tear stained cheeks and messy mascara. “This won't stop us, and we'll learn to juggle it with you.” Gently patting your eyes, she smiles softly. “Don't forget, you're part of this band too.”

A smile manages to wiggle itself on your face with Yuri's bright encouragement. She does have a point, and you can't help but imagine Hobie kissing your baby's chubby cheeks, or the baby having his smile and his eyes. And the thought of him cradling them to sleep while the baby’s little lashes flutter close. He'll be a good dad, but at the same time you don't want to spring this huge news on him when his career is just starting to propel him and the band. You don't want to be the one to hold him back. Yes, you have options, but this is the product of your love, *years of that love. Maybe you'll be a good mother, for now, you have to be brave and tell him.

“I just manage the gigs, you guys can live without me.”

“Tell that to our lead guitarist.” Nudging your shoulder, she places you in front of the mirror. “We've got your back, alright? Do you think a baby will stop him from making music?”

“I don't know, Yuri. But thank you.” You nod appreciatively, swallowing thickly at the woman standing in the mirror. Will you still look like this in nine months? Will you be happy with your decision in nine months?

“Just tell him, or he'll be able to sniff it out like his surprise birthday party last year.” She gently shakes you in place, trying to get a smile out of you.

“I'll tell him, don't worry. He deserves to know.” You whisper as someone knocks on the bathroom door, their muffled words telling you to hurry up.

“Good, because it's his fault.” Yuri grabs another tissue and wraps all the tests and places it in your palm.

“Not entirely.” You chuckle out, and she makes a disgusted face.

“Augh, I swear you two are like fucking rabbits.”

You snort as you pocket the pregnancy tests. It feels vaguely heavy inside the front pocket of your jeans.

“You ready? Or do you need one more hug?” Yuri opens her arms, expecting for you to wave her away, but instead you step into her arms, embracing her. She hugs back wholeheartedly.

“Thank you, Yuri.”

“Anytime, lovely.” She kisses your temple, wiping away the kiss mark. “I can't wait to buy baby shit for whatever spawns out of you.”

“I can already tell you'll be a great aunt.” You say with a hint of sarcasm.

She scoffs, “of course I will be!” Wrenching the door open, you're met with James’ disgruntled face. “Jeez, do you need to pee that bad, Jameson?”

“Yes! Move!” He pushes Yuri out of the way and she shields you away from his elbow. “Why do girls always go to the loo together!”

The two of you shuffle away immediately before you get a sight of something that will surely make you hurl once again.

“Christ, it's because of all those beers he's been chugging.” Yuri walks next to you, eyes roaming around for the familiar punk’s back to bring you back to him.

“And to think that he has an army of groupies.” You find that your hand unconsciously meets with your stomach, protecting it from the rambunctious party goers.

The party is in full swing as you and Yuri go down the long winding stairs of James’ parents' mansion. Drinks are passed around, amber liquid sloshing out of the glasses and cans. Speakers play one of the band's songs, a loud punk anthem that adds fuel to the already on fire party. Expensive Arabian carpets now smell of beer and piss, crisps crunching down on your shoes, impossible to step around it when the place is packed with sweaty and dancing bodies. It's a miracle that nothing is broken or else James will never see the sun again after his parents see the aftermath of their million euro home.

“There's Ned!” Yuri guides you towards the makeshift bar which is actually the kitchen's island where bottles upon bottles of liquor sits on its previously pristine marble.

“Where the fuck have you two been? Hobie's practically going insane looking for you!” Ned exclaims as he pours you and Yuri a glass of gin.

You scrunch your face at the drink, stomach churning from the smell alone, and Yuri saves you by taking both glasses and chugging each of them without gagging or missing a beat.

“Whew!” The glasses clinks as she places it both down. “Thanks, Ned, I was getting thirsty!”

Ned blinks, and looks impressed at the feat. He sighs, ponting at you. “That was for her, I'll just pour you another one.”

“No!” You and Yuri collectively gasp.

“I mean—” you start, “I've been feeling sick lately, remember? I don't think drinking will help my stomach.” Yuri nods her head enthusiastically, agreeing with you.

“Right, I did tell Hobie that the shawarma place near the post office had a health violation last year.” Ned looks at something behind you, or someone.

A familiar arm loops over your shoulder, the comforting weight keeps your stomach from doing flips and hurling what's left of it onto the marble kitchen. His front is right behind you while his free hand has managed to wiggle itself into your backpocket.

“They said they're under new management, Ned.” Hobie chuckles out, warmth seeping through you.

You look over your shoulder, only to be met with his amber eyes that look almost golden under the light. He smells faintly of after concert musk and your own perfume that he keeps saying is his lucky charm. Smiling, he cups your chin with his palm, giving you a chaste kiss.

He scrunches his nose, smiling at you. “Did you brush your teeth?” His face then morphs into concern, brows furrowed and hands squeezing your side, fingers grazing your stomach. “We can go home if you feel too sick.”

“I did, don't worry I didn't use anyone's toothbrush, I just used my finger like a caveman. And please don't be a worry wart, it's nothing I can't handle, Hobs.” You lean against his shoulder, feeling infinitely better now that you're in his arms. Now that you're looking at him as he gazes at you with so much affection, you start to think that your worries feel silly.

“I don't think they had toothpaste back in the stone age, love.” He nuzzles your temple, nose tickling your hairline.

“Archeologists beg to differ.”

“Yeah? You an archaeologist now?” He flirts back, palm still cupping the back of your neck and thumb rubbing along your jaw. His rings are cold against your warm skin, comforting you further.

Yuri and Ned roll their eyes and tries to ignore the public display of affection while mixing in drinks and then downing it in one go. Like a couple of exasperated parents.

“I could be if I wasn't too busy being your manager.” You hold his hand as he kisses the tip of your nose. “And fluoride existed during the olden times, y’know.”

Hobie leans back, brows knitting together before a smile etches on his handsome face. “Really?” He says with a lilt in his tone. “This your way of sayin’ bye to the band?”

“Nope, someone's gonna miss me too much.” You whisper against his cheek, kissing him lovingly.

“I'm sure Ned will live.” Hobie laughs, embracing you as he sways you to the music.

“Don't bring me into this, bruv.” You and Hobie laugh at the look on Ned’s face.

Yuri stares at you and smiles, wordlessly telling you to tell Hobie the news. With a deep inhale, you twist around to cup Hobie's face and look at him with a serious expression. The glint of your ring urges you to continue.

“Can we go somewhere quiet? I need to tell you something, Hobie—”

“Oi, have the lot of you seen this?” James comes running in, flip phone in hand as he shoves the screen in each of your faces until Hobie takes it.

“That you finally washed your hands after taking a piss?” Yuri crosses her arms over her chest as she closes the distance and peeks over your shoulder.

A shaky and grimey video plays a scene of someone blowing out their birthday candles inside a restaurant. The celebrant claps while the guests cheer for them. It's all normal and happy at first then the camera zooms in on the background, right on the window where a man who looks like he's drunk, staggers and limps towards the restaurant window. Then a sound of an oncoming car skids to a halt but too late to stop in time. It hits the man dead on as he flips and flies over the car until his face meets and grinds on the asphalt, leaving a blood trail. Chaos ensues as the shaking of the camera moves towards the streets while onlookers yell and try to call for help.

“Fuckin’ hell, mate, what did I tell you about showing us these kinds of videos.” Ned groans then leaves to go tend to the makeshift bar again.

“No, no, just watch!” James pleads, shoving the screen in front of the band's faces but Ned just shakes his head. “It's bonkers!”

“C’mon, bruv, you can't jus’ show us shit like this.” Hobie moves the phone away from you, but you chase the screen with your eyes as you see the last bit of the video showing the man standing up like nothing happened.

Hobie tries to close the phone to save you from the sight but James snatches it and continues to show it to everyone else. Hobie tries to manoeuvre you away but with James' increasing insistence, Yuri takes one for the team and yanks it out of his hand and pockets it.

“No phone for you until you shut the fuck up about it!”

“Yuri! That's bullshit! That's mine.” James reaches for his phone but Yuri dodges him. “You're not my mum!”

“You tried to show us some live leak shit! No, absolutely not.” They fight like siblings while Yuri swats his roaming hands away.

“The bloke stood up like normal and his eyeball was hanging out of his sockets!” Their arguing falls into the background as Hobie leads you towards the corner of the kitchen.

“You alright, love? Not too queasy?” Hobie rubs your stomach, still unbeknownst to the growing life inside of you.

Taking his hand, you let it rest on your belly. “I'm fine, nothing I can't handle.”

He smiles, squeezing your hand and chuckling. “That's my girl, always so bloody tough, eh?”

“Yeah, that's me, tough as nails.” You nervously chuckle as if you weren't about to burst into tears a few minutes ago.

“Now, what were you about to tell me?”

“I—” you're suddenly out of words. “Can we go somewhere quiet first?” The raging bass of the music is starting to give you a headache, shaking through your skull.

“This serious then?” Worry flickers in his mind, and you know that he's trying to remember if he did something bad. “Did I do somethin'?” And you were right.

You shake your head, palms splayed over his chest whilst you lay down the lapels of his spiked denim jacket. “You didn't do anything wrong.” Your voice is gentle yet it wavers a bit from your own worries.

What if you don't do good for this kid? What if being a mother isn't for you? What if— your attention flits over to a staggering figure appearing from the hill. The shadow gets closer towards the house as you see them through the ceiling to floor windows of James' home, the glass is just situated behind Hobie. Everyone seems to not notice the person as it sprints on the grass. Their head dips back, as if the speed they're running at has their own head lolling backwards from the momentum.

“Is this because of me accidentally leavin' puddin’ on the table and having ants…”

Hobie's voice fades in your ears as your eyes stay on the figure that's coming towards you.

They're quickly gaining speed.

“Love?”

The party goers don't seem to notice the guy, continuing to dance and drink about all merrily. Your body freezes in place, mind going haywire, electricity running down your fingertips and stomach flipping upside down. It's as if your senses warn you of the figure, as if your innate fear response is acting upon itself.

Hobie cups your cheek gently just as the man gets closer, barefooted, shoulder bent at a harsh angle and blood dripping from his eyes.

Then more appear right on the hill, running like they've injured themselves, moon shining down behind them, bathing their shadows in silver light. They look like regular people, except for limbs that flail around, and mouths agape— the blood smeared all over them has your senses telling you to run.

Your breathing stops.

In a blink, there's a horde of them coming your way.

“Oi, you alright? You gonna be sick?”

“Run—!” As you say it, a loud smash can be heard as the first figure you saw comes crashing inside the house. People scream and dodge broken glass.

“Shit!” Hobie shields you away immediately, arms enveloping around you.

“What the fuck?!” James yells, trainers stepping on glass. “My parents are gonna kill me!”

Everyone looks at the body laying on the floor, around him lays plastic cups and crisps. He bleeds slowly into the marble floor, staining it with a puddle of warm crimson. You swear you saw smoke appear from within.

“Someone call an ambulance!” An acquaintance of the band yells as everyone else pauses to stare wide eyed at the still body.

“F–Fuck!” Yuri curses as she takes out her phone from her pocket, fumbling with it in a panic that causes the phone to slip from her grasp and onto the puddle of blood. “Shit.”

She takes a step closer to take it back, and you quickly yank her away. Everyone's attention is on the lone body, but yours are on the oncoming crowd that are running down the hill.

Yuri and Hobie follow your line of sight, gasping in place as they see a dozen or so figures running at breakneck speed.

The rest follows as the guttural groans get louder.

“What the fuck—!” Just as Ned says it, the lone body twitches on the floor and lifts his head up, revealing a grotesque slashed face with shards of glass embedded in his rotting flesh. Blood dribbles from his mouth, strings of drool and crimson leaving his cut lip. His veins pop out, black and blue. “What the fuck!”

You grab a knife from the bar, and you tug Hobie away. “Everyone, run!”

Glass smashes underfoot as everyone rushes to get to the exit.

Yuri holds onto your arm whilst Hobie takes the front. He holds onto your hand in a tight grip, shoulder smashing into the panicking crowd to get you out of there.

Bodies are packed into the doorway as people try to get out. Screams ring out behind you, screams that will haunt your dreams as tearing flesh accompanies the horrific sound.

“Fuckin’ move!” Hobie squeezes himself out in between panicking bodies, hand still grasping around yours. He yells your name, eyes set in a panic as blood splashes across the walls and expensive paintings.

You don't dare look back at the carnage as you manage to get out while your hand is around your stomach protectively.

“C’mon!” Hobie yanks you away, no time for gentleness as he leads you towards the car. “Fuck!”

The two of you run on the yard, the street filled with cries as people funnel out of the house. Neighbours come out of their houses, porch lights flickering on.

You notice the lack of hands around you as you look back at the house. “Yuri!”

Hobie pauses for a second, looking for the rest of his band in the midst of chaos and screams. Faces whizz by, but none of them look like them. With his heart plummeting down to his stomach, he continues to run and snatch you out of your worried stupor.

You stagger on your feet, the cold February air nipping at your cheeks. “What about the others?!” You cry out as Hobie unlocks the car and practically shoves you inside the passenger's side. Face unreadable. “Hobie!” He slams the door shut and goes around the hood to get inside.

He takes a breath for a second, hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, and eyes wild as he stares at the rearview mirror.

You grasp his hand, fingers trembling around his palm. “We need to wait for them.”

Swallowing thickly and with a shaking hand, he inserts the key in the ignition and starts the car.

“Hobie, we can't fucking leave them here!” You cry out, head turning towards the house where you see limping and bloodied bodies exit the place.

More and more come out, all covered in crimson, eyes eerily wide, and jaws permanently set ajar, mouths frothing and dripping with blood. They sniff the air as a few of them pick apart the stragglers left writhing on the grass.

“What—What the fuck are they?” Hobie watches as they rip and tear into bodies like they're wet paper. Limbs fly about, severed arms and legs fling out before landing on the former pristine grass.

“I—I don't know.” Your hand grips the knife tightly. “Do you see them?” You whisper, afraid of being heard by the creatures.

Hobie roams his eyes around, frantically looking for the band. He licks at his lips, sweat dribbling down the back of his neck. “...no, do you—?!” A fist bangs against the window, the face belonging to it seems familiar, whoever it was, they break his window with ease after a couple of punches. The tattered arm reaches inside, trying to grab at Hobie. “Fuck!”

You scream, and Hobie, in his panic, steps on the gas.

“Hobie!” The car speeds off into the suburban streets but whatever or whoever it was they still hold onto the side of the window, groaning, eyes bleeding and trying to bite at him with his golden teeth. “Fuck off!” You yell, holding onto the grab handles above to propel your legs over Hobie and kick them out of the car.

They fly away, body rag dolling, skidding into the asphalt and leaving a trail of blood.

You huff, heaving back into your seat as Hobie glances worriedly at you. “Are you okay?” You ask, adrenaline filtering through your veins.

He checks himself over, and finds nothing of note. “Yeah,” he reaches for you, palm cupping your cheek. “You?”

“I–I think so.” You look down at your shoes, finding specks of blood staining your trainers. The hula girl on the dashboard dances to the hum of the car, completely unbothered.

“What the fuck is happening?” Hobie asks as his attention turns back towards the road, carefully steering in through the neighborhood.

“I think what James showed us…” you try to catch your breath, hand placed on your stomach. “...is that— it's happening here too.”

“Love.” He exhales shakily, trying to even out his breathing and expel out the panic. “I think that was the pub owner.”

“What?” You look back, only to see the grand houses fading away. “Who?”

“The fuckin' guy who tried to grab me.” He gestures behind him.

Your face morphs into horror as realization flits over you. “What the fuck.” Looking back again, you only see the dark road. “That can't— he was at the party with us!”

“Do you think it's contagious?”

“What?”

“They looked like they were sick, like fuckin'— like rabies.” He waves his hand wildly.

“Rabies?”

“I don't know— all I know is that he was bloody fine the last I saw him.”

“If it is contagious, we need to know how you get it so we can avoid it.” You sit back down, hand still holding onto the small knife you grabbed from the bar. He nods, eyeing you from his peripheral.

The car grows quiet for a minute as you and Hobie ride towards the city.

“We left them there.” You say solemnly, eyes staring straight at the buildings in front of you.

“They're alright.” Hobie says matter-of-factly, hands clenching around the wheel.

“Hobie.” You say his name with tears in your eyes.

“I know they are.” He grabs your hand, squeezing it three times before letting go. Another minute passes in heavy silence. “If…” Hobie starts, heart heavy. “...If we get separated—”

“Hobie—”

“Jus’ in case, love.” He pats your thigh lovingly. “Jus’ in case, we meet back at the houseboat. And if that doesn't work or you can't get there…” he inhales shakily, afraid of losing you in the chaos. “D’you remember that cabin we rented out last year for our anniversary?” You nod, hand reaching for his elbow. “We'll meet there, right? Tell me you understand, love.”

“I understand.” You say with haste. The frantic look in his eyes has you reaching for him, hand placed in between the headrest and the back of his neck as he leans against your touch. “We'll be okay, Hobie.”

He swallows thickly, fists tightening around the steering wheel. “You come first, remember that, y–yeah?” His voice cracks as he runs a rough palm over his face. “Whatever happens, we stay together.”

Just as the words escape his lips, the car passes by a burning building on the side of the road. The embers flicker in and out, flames illuminating the darkened road in its yellow glow. The fire devours the whole place, warmth felt through the windshield, kissing your cheeks. You and Hobie share a heavy look, recognizing the place as the same diner you two had your first date together. It doesn't bode well, and it doesn't help with your churning stomach.

“Love.” He calls you softy, grasping at your hand that rests on your stomach.

You didn't even notice you were holding onto your belly until he touched you. “Yeah?”

“You alright?”

Hobie turns the car further into the highway as you two come across more cars than before, all leaving the city unlike you and Hobie.

“Y–Yeah.” You lie through your teeth, eyes watching as an ambulance whizzes past you towards the city. “What’s your plan?”

“We need to go home and then sail on the houseboat. I bet whatever those things were can't bloody swim.”

“Hobie, the houseboat can't handle waves from the sea.” You say as you instinctively knead at his nape.

“I know, love, we'll stay close to the rivers—” He abruptly stops talking, eyes following an empty bus stopped on the road. It looked normal at first, but when you stare into it longer, the bloody handprints on the windows make your skin rise. “We'll be fine.” His tone says that he's not just reassuring you but also himself.

A helicopter passes by above you, blades whirring and fading away as it goes out of the city. The familiar streets are filled with people, all lugging bags and their children carried on their backs as they try to leave the place. Your palm curls around your shirt, a pit in your stomach weighing heavily.

“I think we should turn back.”

“Back to where?” Hobie doesn't mean for his tone to be harsher than it was. “There's nowhere else.”

You almost jump in place when a jet plane whooses past, leaving behind a trail in the clouds. “Somewhere that isn't crowded.”

“We're in London, love, everywhere is crowded.” Hobie stops the car as you two hit traffic. “The world is endin’ and there's still fuckin' traffic.” He honks the horn in frustration, muscles straining under the harsh push.

The sound rings in your ears as you look around you. Pedestrians have a solemn look in their eyes, clutching at themselves. A few limp in place, ankle swollen or leg bleeding from the worst day in their lives. Your mind wanders back to Yuri and the others, wondering if they're alright, or if they're injured and limping like the strangers around you.

Hobie turns on the radio, flipping through the usual music channels to get to the news. The sound of the emergency broadcast has you and Hobie covering your ears from the shrill sound. He lowers the volume down from the last music jam you two had on your way to James'.

The radio cackles for a moment, signal fading in and out as static cackles. “Stay….home…danger…bite.”

“Useless piece of shit!” He punches the radio, suddenly, instead of the broadcaster's voice, an ear piercing boom can be heard from your right. The knick-knacks on the dashboard fall on the floor. “Fuck!” Hobie instinctively puts his arms around your head, shielding you.

The explosion reverberates, shockwave echoing through the city as it hits the car and breaks all the windows and windshields. Glass shatters around you whilst screams erupt all around the streets.

“What was that?!” Your ears ring, a piercing sound deep inside your ears. Hobie says something, mouth opening and closing but you don't hear him through the shrill deaf tone. “What?!”

He grasps at your face, pointing at the black smoke billowing from the distance. You follow his finger, seeing fire and brimstone, the heat from it searing your cheeks. “—we need to go!”

You stare back at him, eyes wide at an oncoming truck heading your way. It runs through cars like butter, flipping metal and ripping flesh. You don't have time to run, so you embrace him— The only way you know how to protect him.

—

Hobie wakes up with a flaring pain on his temple. Skin aflame as gashes and scratches mar his flesh. His vision fades in and out, and his throat dry as he swings upside down in his seat.

Panic sets in immediately, blood rushing to his head. The car is a mess, trinkets that were on the dashboard are now strewn across the car's ceiling. Glass shards littered around, and metal folded and creaking as he moves. He yells your name, throat stinging, chest heavy as he looks beside him.

He only sees a splash of crimson on the seat.

“Love!” He cries out, rough and bloodied hands trying to push away several metal rods piercing in between him and the passenger's seat, fencing him out. It almost split the car in half.

“F–Fuck! C’mon!” Looking through the cracks, he spots an opening before him and a trail of blood. That's probably where you must've gone.

His hand trembles as he feels through the seatbelt and releases it with a click. He falls down harshly, body folded against himself. Breath wheezing, he inhales through the pain.

The thought of you injured and alone was enough fuel for him to squeeze himself out of the window and into the street. Glass nicks his body, scraping against his skin. He bites his tongue, hands scruffed and bleeding.

Hobie falls knees first into the asphalt, body aching and various cuts bleeding on the cold grey ground.

With a deep inhale, he pushes himself up, palms splayed, and feet boosting himself up. His muscles scream in protest as blood dribbles from his brow down to his lashes. He finally makes it up, standing on unsteady feet.

Hobie goes back to the car, arms reaching towards the backseat where his guitar case lies. His fingertips brush along its rough leather until he manages to get a hold of it. He yanks it out of the back, a miracle that it's even intact after the crash. There's no care when he takes it out of the car, case smashing loudly against the broken shards of glass and banging on the metal door. As long as he has it back, he doesn't care about the damage.

There's a sudden animalistic groan in the distance.

On trembling legs, he turns around. His whole body freezes as he sees piles upon piles of cars littered around. Death lingers in the place, rotten flesh and drying blood wafting over his nose.

You have to be alive. You have to be.

As he starts to stagger around the car to climb over the debris and over to you— he falls back on the hood from the sharp pain stinging on his cranium; hip hitting hard on the metal. The sound bounces off the concrete street, and he hears the sudden shuffling of feet, then running footsteps.

Hobie lifts his head up, seeing a crowd— no, a horde sprinting towards him as they appear behind the flipped and broken down cars. All gnashing teeth and bloodied fingers trying to rip him apart.

Without a choice, he bolts away in the different direction you might've gone.

—

Warmth kisses your skin as you lay on the soft mattress. Face squished on the pillow as arms wrap around your body.

“Morning, Hobie.” It was all a bad dream then, nothing but a nightmare fuelled from watching a horror movie before bed. You run your knuckles over his cheek, he still doesn't stirr. “I know you're awake, Hobs.”

You take his cheek, palm resting along his jawline. He feels cold. “Hobie? You okay?” Sitting up, you try to shake him awake. “Hobie? Are you sick?”

His body immediately flings up, sheets flying off his body as his hands wrap tightly around your neck. The amber eyes you love are now a pair of bloodied rubies in his eye sockets. Blood drips from his lips, skin bubbling and melting off his skull. Blue and red veins snake along his flesh, curling around his eyes and lips.

“H–Hobie!” You claw at his hands, ripping away his skin, feeling it crust under your nails.

He chokes you firmly, and you gasp awake.

Your eyes meet with carnage, fire and smoke hitting your face as a breeze passes by. The once normal London streets look like a car junkyard. A throbbing ache spreads through you as you see the hula girl on the floor, crimson splashed on her ukelele.

“Holy shit, you're finally awake!” The least likely person you thought you'd meet up with taps your cheek. James' face is drenched in sweat and blood, shirt caked in drying blood as he shakes you awake once again.

“J–James? How?”

“I need to unclip you, okay? You're gonna fall.” Before you could say something or even wait for your mind to wake up fully, he cuts your seatbelt off with a knife and you fall headfirst into the car's ceiling. Pain blooms on the back of your neck as you feel aches and pains all over. “There, we need to fucking move, Y/N.”

“No, where's—!?” You twist in your seat, sitting up and weakly pushing him away as you turn towards the driver's side. Hobie is still strapped in his seat, sitting upside down, arms dangling from his sides. He's unconscious but breathing.

“Hobie.” You try to squeeze your hands in between the metal crammed in the car that divides your side from his. The beloved car has seen better days. “H–Hobie, fucking wake up!” The tips of your fingers brush along his shoulder, feeling his warmth against your skin. “Please!”

James yells your name, tugging you away. “We'll get him out! But we need to hurry, they're coming!”

“Who?” A low rumbling groan echoes out from the chaos. In your headache, you finally remember what happened.

“You need to get out of the car and I'll try to get him out. You won't go far with your leg.”

“My leg?” You look down, gasping as a large gash runs down your hind leg. Blood trickles from the wound as shards of sharp glass sticks out of it. “Oh f–fuck!” Immediately, pain shoots up. A blinding pain that has you grasping at James’ shoulders and biting down your lip.

“Yeah, I know, calm down.” James pats your back and brandishes the same knife you took from his house. “I'm going to jump over the cars and cut him loose, okay? Stay here.”

You nod, biting down your yelps of agony. Your hand wanders down to your stomach out of fear for the life inside.

James leaves your side, grunting and grasping at his bleeding arm. You watch him carefully as he tries to find a foothold on a side mirror attached to something that doesn't even look like a vehicle anymore with its crushed metal and shattered glass. Ageing blood drifts in the air, clotted and drying while screams and screeches echo all around the city. There's a low rumble of helicopter blades somewhere, and sirens fading in and out.

James still struggles to climb up over the pile of cars. You turn your head, glancing at Hobie in hopes of him waking up from his dreamless sleep. There's drying blood trickling on his temple, lips split and bloodied. Adrenaline makes your hand shake, his words echo in your mind— “you come first.” He'd want for you to not just sit there wait for him to wake up, so with a determination to survive in your eyes, you reach upwards to grab a scarf you know you've placed inside the console. Things tumble out as you open it, polaroids, keys, guitar picks and the blue scarf you've been looking for.

You hear James' grunts as you gingerly pick up a picture of you and Hobie on a random day at the beach. That day was freezing cold with the waters nipping at your skin, but you two didn't care as you chased each other on the frozen sand. With trembling fingers, you hide the picture inside your jacket pocket.

“F–Fuck.” You bite your tongue as you take out pieces of glass out of your leg. A tear slides down your cheek as you remove the last one that was buried deep inside your muscle. Inhaling, you flick your eyes towards James who's halfway up the pileup. “Okay.” Cinching the cloth tighter and tighter around your leg, you breathe in through your nose, mouth clamped shut to prevent a shrill cry from coming out. Tying it neatly, you finally take a deep exhale of air.

“Shit!” James yells, foot slipping off a bloodied hood of a car as he tumbles down on the hard ground. He groans, sitting up and cradling his behind.

“You okay?” You ask, swallowing down your fear as you quickly glance at Hobie, who's still unconscious. If you take too long to get him out, the blood rushing to his head won't be good. “James.”

“I'm good— fuck!” An arm suddenly reaches from within a crushed car, skin mangled, black blood oozing from the wounds. James crawls backwards into a car, the loud bump and his screech could wake up the whole city.

“James— shit!” You clamber out of the car, leg immediately shooting up a wave of pain that has you almost curling against yourself. With another look at Hobie, you limp towards James and help him up. “We need to get Hobie out!”

“Yeah—” his eyes turn wide at something behind you. “Fuck me.”

As you look over your shoulder, you see a wave of people clambering out of the destroyed cars and appearing from the side streets. The moon gazes behind them, a spotlight on their shambling bodies and shadows dancing on the pavement as their hands open and close, trying to grasp at you.

With your heart stuck in your throat, you grab a piece of metal laying at your feet. Its sharp edges sting your palms as the smell of the rusted iron meets with your nose. You look at Hobie, eyes tearing up at him sitting there alone and defenseless. You murmur an apology before smacking the metal against the hood of a car.

“Over here!” You scream, throat burning and legs inching towards an opening towards the alleyway.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” James tries to grab you, but you nudge him away.

“Getting them away from him!” You hammer away at the cars around you while you limp towards the alley. “James, come on!”

The rotting corpses follow you as you and James shimmy in between a downed car and a truck. Their running footsteps thud in tandem with your heart, metal pokes and scratch you but you carry on with gritted teeth.

You make it out of the pileup, immediately turning around to grab James by the collar before one of the shamblers takes a hold of him. Their fingers graze his back, almost ripping his shirt apart.

“Come on, you fuckers!” You yell, banging the metal rod around the walls whilst James guides you backwards.

The corpses struggle to get out of the small space, pushing at each other as bodies quickly pile up over the cars and spill over the cramped alleyway. A few hit the ground in a crunching noise, but the rest pay them no heed as they jump over their heads, stampeding over them while they desperately try to get to you.

“We need to run!” James grabs your arm, quickly looping it over his shoulder to help you bolt away. “I've got an idea!”

Before you could fully turn away, you see a glimpse of Hobie in between the piles of bodies and metal. He sits there, undisturbed and safe.

“Go!” With tears in your eyes, you sprint away despite the searing pain in your leg.

—

Hobie quickens his sprinting, wind whizzing past him as he almost tumbles towards the docks. Wood creaks under him, heavy boots thumping against the old wood and water logged planks.

It looks like he outran the corpses, but he can still hear them heaving out a throaty groan like they're in pain. He's not taking any chances as he quickly makes time and jumps over the side of his houseboat the second he sees its well loved façade.

“Shit, shit, shit.” His knees hit the deck and an almost blinding pain lights his joints on fire.

He grasps at his knees, body laying against the cold wood. Despite the pain, he unties the rope tether from the dock, using his muscle memory and ignoring the fear to quickly untie it. The ropes fall down into the waters, sinking down into the depths.

With a deep inhale, he crawls towards the welcome mat that he still remembers you got for him as a housewarming gift. That was before you were dating, but he already loved you back then— still does, a lot more now. Turning it over, he grabs the spare key and climbs back up, using the doorknob as leverage.

With his hands shaking, he opens the door in hopes of seeing you waiting for him patiently inside.

The door creaks open, and he's only met with dead air and darkness.

Hobie bites the inside of his cheek, trying to calm himself down as he makes his way upwards and towards the steering wheel. The framed pictures of you two and the band whizzes past him in the dark, all smiles and laughter etched in each photograph. He makes it up to the wheel, immediately inserting the key in the ignition as the whole boat lights up like a damn Christmas tree.

The bloodied and bloated corpses appear from the street, shrieking as they see him standing in the boat before racing towards him.

Hobie doesn't steer the boat just yet, eyes roaming around the docks, hoping, wishing that he would see you sprinting towards the houseboat you two shared.

But with every inch the dead comes close to him, he has no choice but to sail away without you.

He promises to find you, even if it kills him.

—

Your lungs burn from the running, feet sore and feeling like you're sprinting on hot coals. It's torture, pair it up with your nausea and your various wounds, you feel like you're better off as the dead’s meal. And yet, you still run with James leading you towards a pub.

His shoulder hits the double doors, bursting it open and pulling you through it and locking the doors with a propped up chair all in quick succession.

You stand in the middle of the room with a wild look in your eyes as you see a handful of people peeking out of the bar.

“Get out!” One whisper yells at you, and James finally joins your side.

“Absolutely not, mate.” He shakes his head, taking your hand, he leads you towards the back of the place. “I own this bloody place.”

You whip your head towards him with shock. “What?”

“Technically my dad does.” He whispers to you as he continues to lead you to an office while the survivors follow you with their heavy gaze.

“And here I thought JJJ only had that radio show.” You say as you close the door behind you to shut off the stares.

James rummages through the desk, trying to find something as you roam your eyes around the sparse room with a few accolades framed to the walls and its business permit. Behind the oak table lies a large cabinet with a lock on it. And to the other side of the wall is the back exit. There's not even a framed picture of his family in it, not even of James.

“One thing about my dad is that he loves yapping, drinking, and…” he grins, showing you a ring of keys. “Guns.”

“Guns? That's—”

“Hard to get here? Yeah, he had to pull some strings.” He immediately turns around, crouching down to unlock the cabinet. “The real deal is at our house, and you already know what happened there, this is just a small part of his collection.” A muffled curse escapes from his lips as he tries to find the right key in the dozen or so keys.

You look at the window from the office, seeing the survivors beginning to stand up and staring at you with curiosity. Without missing a beat, you close the blinds with a quick tug. You can't risk it, not when you've seen too many apocalypse movies with Hobie. Fuck, Hobie, your heart squeezes at the thought of him. You should get back to him using those guns, saving him like in the movies.

“How'd you find us, James— shit, have you seen Yuri and Ned?” You lean against the table as a wave of pain ebbs through you. Your hand grasps at your stomach, trying to calm yourself down.

His hands pauses, “...no, no I haven't. We got separated too. We all ran out towards another house to get help but when I looked back they were both gone. Then I jacked a car to get to the city— to my mum and dad, hopefully. That's when I saw the pileup and your car.” He clears his throat, sniffing and wiping his face with his sleeve. “I'm sure they're fine though, this is Yuri and Ned we're talking about.”

“Yeah, I hope so. I'm sure your parents are fine too.” That means Hobie is all alone out there. “James, we need to get back to Hobie.”

“I know, boss.” He says your nickname that he dubbed to you when you took on the mantle of being their manager. “No man left behind, I promise.” The cabinet finally unlocks, revealing a pump action shotgun and a pistol. “Thanks dad.” James grabs the backpack next to the gun, filling it up with as much ammo as he could put inside. “Help me with this.”

You nod, quickly kneeling down to shovel in ammo. Your leg hinders you to fold it, but despite the stabbing pain, you still crouch. “After we get Hobie, we'll hop onto the houseboat then we'll go out and find Yuri and Ned.” The boxes of bullets rattle as you shove it inside.

“Solid plan.” He takes the shotgun and loads it in with shells. You gawk at his expert movements. He shrugs, “of course he taught us how to use these things.”

“Perks of being friends with the royal family I guess?”

James makes a face, nose scrunched up. “Never went to their hunts, dad said I would've pointed it at them instead.”

You chuckle, “that's probably true.”

He smiles, handing you the pistol. “You know how to use it?”

“Uh, point and shoot?” You take the weighted gun in your hand.

James takes the gun and shows you the safety, “right means pew pew, left means no pew pew.” He then takes a cartridge and loads up the pistol and shows you how to load it yourself. “Just pull this back right after and you're good.”

“What if it jams?” You ask as he gives it back to you.

“Like in the movies, huh?” It's your turn to shrug. “That rarely happens with a gun like this. But if it does, you run like hell, okay?”

“Okay.” You inhale, letting your hand acclimate to the weight. “I never thought that there's this side of you, James.”

“I was really into watching doomsday preppers when I was younger. I guess the doom mongering kinda stuck with me.”

You chuckle, “we're kinda stuck together until we find them. How do you feel about that?”

“Fucking lucky that I got the fittest member in the band.” James jokes, nudging you as he puts on the backpack. He stands up, giving you a helping hand that you take.

“Not going to be fit for much longer.” You groan as your knees creak from under you.

“C’mon, you're not that old.”

“I don't mean it like that.” You inhale, “I'm pregnant, James.”

“Shit, is Yuri the father?”

You push him playfully. “Fucker.”

“Congrats? Shit timing though.”

You shake your head with a small smile. You feel lighter now that you've told someone else. “The worst fucking timing. I haven't told him yet— I was about to but then you know.”

“Yeah, the fucking dead rises again.” He walks over to the backdoor, unlocking it.

“Should we help them?” You gesture towards the window and the bar.

James sighs then nods. “Yeah, actually we should—!” The door opens and out comes a stumbling wall of decaying flesh. He immediately fires at it head on, blood and guts spraying at you and the walls as your ears ring from the loud shot.

You take James by the back of his collar, tugging him backwards into the bar as the loud shot has brought more visitors to funnel into the office.

You yell ‘run,’ but you can't hear your own voice.

James points the barrel behind you as more and more appear. You quickly open the pub entrance, flinging away the chair as chaos ensues inside.

Your hearing comes back just as the screams start.

James tries his best to help, shooting at anyone who comes close to the survivors but he can't protect himself and them at the same time. He's backed against a table as he reloads. Fountains of crimson splashes out of the bodies as the corpses rip and tear into their insides.

A few escape, pushing past you to get out into the streets. But most fall into the jaws of death.

Soon, the oaken floorboards and marble bar is covered in guts and bone.

“James, we need to go!”

James struggles to reload with his shaking fingers, with a deep inhale, you point and shoot at a corpse who came too close to him. He cradles his ear, wincing at the sound as he retreats towards you. The body staggers back, but your bullet missed the head, ear no longer there.

You take the opportunity to pull him out just in time as bodies pile up and spring over to you, you see a glimpse of one of the survivors with a huge chunk taken out of their face, twitching and writhing on the floor before they stand up and bite at the air with their bloodied teeth.

You don't have time to ponder what you saw as you and James run towards the docks.

Your leg aches but you carry on with the pain, you feel blood seeping through the measly bandage while you run. James holds onto your elbow, making sure you don't lag behind as you blindly shoot behind you.

James leads you back to where he found you and Hobie, his feet skids to a stop but when he looks inside the driver's side, Hobie's gone.

You almost cry at the sight. But you hold onto hope. “The docks!” James immediately understands as he lets you lead this time.

Muscle memory guides you towards the side streets where you and Hobie use as shortcuts to get home faster. Shoes thudding against the pavement, shots echoing in the dark as smoke and fire billows all over the city you call home.

The smell of the river has you running faster.

Muscles screaming to stop, you heave as you bolt over to the houseboat. Only to be met with nothing in its place.

“What the fuck?!” You scream, gun tightly around your hand. “Where—?!” Turning around, you roam your frantic eyes across the familiar dock, but the red paint of the houseboat is nowhere to be seen, only the rope that was tied around it is left floating on the water.

“Where is it?!” James yells, reloading his gun before making quick work of the corpses that fall down with a bloodied thud.

With a heavy heart, you pull James away and back into the streets. “It's not here!”

You're half relieved and afraid of what might've happened to him. Hobie might've woken up and went to the houseboat in hopes of meeting you there. But he had to leave, you know he wouldn't have any other choice in the matter if he chose that. But another half of you thinks that he perished along the way, that the houseboat is now floating along the Thames with its captain writhing and stumbling inside the very place you both cherished.

You shake the thought away, focusing on surviving for him and for the life inside you. He's alive, you know he is.

“Over here!” James pushes himself inside a broken metal fence, helping you squeeze inside as the horde catches up to you. You feel the heat of their bodies against your back as they desperately try to wrap their rotted fingers around you.

He pulls you, shooting at any stragglers as your destination gets near. A tall building stands before you with its shiny windows that reach high into the sky, and rotating doors that remind you of a fancy hotel.

“Keep running!” He yells, arm still holding onto you for dear life.

“Fuck, my leg!” You almost stumble, but James comes back to you and grabs your arm and places it around his shoulder.

“I'm sorry, we're almost there!” He yells, panicking as he bares half of your weight for you.

The two of you pass by a pub that's filled with screams of terror echoing out instead of the sound of music that you're used to. The windows are painted in crimson, splotches of blood marr the historical walls inside like spider lilies spread across the glass. There's still people in there, fighting for their lives as you see a flash of light and hear a loud bang that has your teeth rattling inside your mouth.

The horde splits off towards the sound, leaving you with a dozen corpses heading your way.

Your adrenaline filled heart flips as you see the name of the pub, and it's the same one you were in just mere hours ago with Hobie.

“In here!” James pulls you back into the present, pushing you towards the rotating doors and into the empty lobby.

You make it inside just in time before the dead get to you. James grabs the metal rod in your hand, using it to lock the rotating doors by placing it in-between the glass.

“It's not gonna hold on for long, we need to go up!” James grabs your hand, yanking you towards the stairs. “Seventh floor!”

You don't have enough time to gaze upon the expansive lobby with its marble floors and crystal chandelier. It seems as though the place lies untouched by the calamity outside.

Your mind goes on survival mode, running, dodging bared teeth, climbing up the stairs, shooting, kicking a corpse away from your ankle. And then sprinting upwards towards the winding stairs.

James couldn't risk it with the elevators, knowing that it could get stuck in between floors or worse, the dead lurk and wait inside.

The condo door is in sight, just when James trips and falls face first into the harsh ground. You look at the crawling corpse, who's rotting hand is wrapped around his ankle.

Without wasting time, you take your foot up, stomping down on their skull in a sickening crunch of brain matter and bone.

Eyeing down your deed, with its mess marked on the once pristine floors, James pulls you away and towards the door. Within a second, he inputs the code on the panel and the door clicks open. He pushes you inside and shuts the door with haste.

There's banging outside the door, and you're left standing in the hallway with James pushing a bookshelf towards it as a barricade.

You don't notice him calling your name as you stare at your bloodied shoe with brain matter sticking to its heel.

“Hey.” James grasps your arm, panting and eyes wide awake. “I need help with the door.”

With a firm nod, you take your mind off of what you have done, and whilst you push shelves against the door, you could only wish that Hobie's alright and he made it to the boat in one piece.

—

Hobie's stuck alone in his boat. With nothing but the waters and the fish to keep him company for two months, he sails towards the north where the cabin, the designated meeting place, lies. His hand tightens around the wheel, lips chapped, scruff scratching him, and bags dark under his brown eyes. He feels as if he's going sea crazy out here. Hundreds of worries have appeared in his mind, and most of it consists of you and your whereabouts.

Without the knowledge of you being alive and breathing, he keeps seeing you in his dreams. The last two months have been a nightmare for him. And it has gotten worse with every day that passes without you by his side. Now he knows why Yuri and the others always joke that they shouldn't separate the two of you lest the other won't function or go stir crazy. He only hopes that you're doing better than he is.

His eyes seem to circle around the sticker of your face on his guitar, right where you accidentally scruffed it. You two always talked about sailing the whole world on the houseboat, ignoring the fact that the boat can't withstand the harsh waves of the ocean. But it was a good dream nonetheless. If only you could be here with him, it's not sailing around the world, but the water at night would be a sight to behold for you.

The waters around the country have gone wilder by the week, he sticks to the beaches and the coast where he can control the houseboat better. Where the water isn't too rough around the old ship.

The boat isn't built for seafaring, or even long journeys. If the houseboat collapses against the rough waves before he could get to the small fishing town you two stayed in, his hope would dwindle, but he'll stay determined for you.

He can already feel your arms around him when the reunion happens. Or is that his mind playing tricks on him once again?

At least he has enough provisions to last him a few more weeks out in the open. But in time, he has to go dock the boat and scavenge for food. He doesn't need to load up with gasoline when the houseboat runs on solar. Thank fuck he built that before shit hit the fan.

The virus seems to have wrapped its teeth around the world. Marks of death lay waste to every city he sails by. Piles and piles of bodies, half burned by the very people who once knew them, afraid of the walking death that could savage them too. Cities now lay empty or crowded by snarling corpses. Some were lucky enough to build walls around a small commune, but it was obvious that they didn't want newcomers with the mounted guns and patrolling armed forces around it.

With every port and dock he passes, he looks for you and your familiar face. He hopes that with every wave and tide he conquers, you're getting closer to him. But whenever he passes by a coastal town, or a beach he once visited with you, he could only see the dead awaiting for him on the sand, like old friends waiting to be reunited with him. Their eyes are long gone, white scleras and crimson irises staring him down with their maws agape, biting at air and inhaling through their rotten lungs.

The shamblers, he calls it, or them, the former humans that were sadly infected, can't swim, but they also can't drown. So swimming in the water poses a risk of getting bitten by one of them that are treading the sea floor. Hobie doesn't risk getting into the sea after a limp hand wrapped around his ankle when he decided to take a quick dip.

In the past two months since then, he misses you, misses the way he would wake up to your face, arms wrapped around him and protecting him from the harsh morning cold. He misses the way you would smile and laugh. He misses the sound of your footsteps walking around the boat, sometimes he hears it at night when he's in between sleep and the waking world. Missing you was an understatement, he longs for you, longs for you to be alive and back beside him. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but no one told him that the ache would be unbearable.

Hobie once hated the mundanity of life. The way he plays his loud music in the speakers, now he can't even turn on the stereo when every sound could bring the dead to him. Even the radio that he has taken for granted, one that you would always turn on in the morning without fail, now only plays static. Or the repeating sounds of the emergency broadcast over and over again. He sometimes wants to chuck it out of the boat and into the depths, but he remembers how much you loved the old radio and how you would sway to the music. So now he lets it play static, the sound keeping him company throughout the night instead of you.

The information pamphlet that the government tossed from an airplane glares at him from where he taped it on the side of the controls. Hobie still remembers the whirr of the engine above while the papers drift down like snow.

The drawings remind him of the ones in airplanes where they tell you what to do in case of a plane crash or how to put on your seatbelt. He feels like he's in a never ending plane crash heading to nowhere. The words ‘body fluids,’ ‘infected,’ ‘bites,’ and ‘ten seconds’ are engraved in his mind.

He once tried to call your phone in hopes of you answering it but he only heard your voicemail. In the rocky waters and the solemn sky, your voice echoes and presence felt through the speakers. He kept calling you after that just to hear your voice again and again until cell services stopped working.

He's utterly alone.

With a sigh, he steers the houseboat towards an empty dock. The wood creaks as he steps out, bag slung over his shoulder and rope itching against his palms. After taking a quick look around for danger, he ties the rope around the dock, securing his home before grabbing his hammer from his belt.

He stretches his arms and legs as if he's about to run a marathon, he probably would be after he tried to restock for supplies a few days ago. He can still smell the stench of rotten flesh and blood in his nose when a horde chased after him.

Like always he tries to find the evacuation area where you might be, or where other people might be. He would steer away from other survivors, but if there's doctors and a lot of people around, he's sure that they can be trusted. A gathering of people in the apocalypse could spell danger, but it could also be hope.

He treks along the empty street, nothing left but dusty shops, and abandoned cars on the road. There's no stench of death that lingers around the place, or blood splattered along the shop walls. Hobie guesses this town was one of the lucky ones to be evacuated before the virus got to them.

His hypothesis seems to be right when he spots a military vehicle abandoned on the side of the road. Peeking behind it, he doesn't find anything, not even a shambler waiting to bite at him behind the tarpaulin. He wonders what happened to this place.

Every place he encounters has him asking the same question, could you be here?

As he enters the large stadium, it's evident that it's long been abandoned.

Scattered boxes and tents lay where its occupants last left it. Needles and bloodied bandages are strewn across the painted floor and on the court seats. Hobie stands where the general seats would be, right in the middle of everything and with him having a good vantage point of the whole place. A breeze passes by, and papers fly ahead of him.

It’s completely empty, even if he scavenge for supplies in here he won't find anything.

Just as he's about to leave, he hears a clunking sound from the middle of the stadium. His hands hold onto the railings as he narrows his eyes towards the movement from behind the tents.

There, a couple of black clad strangers emerge from within, all holding onto their own blades.

Hobie immediately ducks down, hiding behind the wall and railings.

“This place is shit, there's nothin’ left!” One says, voice echoing.

“Keep your bloody voice down unless you want to wake the dead.”

“How fucking poetic of you.”

Hobie has managed to avoid the dead and the living, the dead a lot easier, but people are harder to get away from. He hasn't killed or maimed anyone, unlike the apocalyptic movies he had watched with you and the band. He tries to avoid it, staying away from staining his hands with red. The shamblers used to be human too, under all the rotten flesh and dead eyes, they once had a life, a family, someone that cared for them. So as much as he can, he only stuns them.

He has never encountered other people before, on his ship, the only faces he has seen are the ones in photographs. He always wondered where everyone went, if there's a huge ship somewhere carrying the whole world behind its metal back. Finding the strangers is comforting in a way, a way that he wasn't left behind to rot and survive on his own. That there are still people out there, living and breathing ones.

But it's clear that you're not here.

With a thudding heart, he slowly crawls on the dusty floor, gloved hand and knees dirtied by the muck and grime.

Hobie tries to not make any noise above the whistling wind and rustling trees. He avoids fallen bottles, and scattered paper plates. The voices fade behind him, the doors where he came from just in his line of sight.

He shifts left and right, crawling as he adjusts his belt. Your voice telling him that he needed a new one rather than the barely holding on rope echoes in his ears. He curses himself for not listening as he keeps adjusting the falling thing.

His breath quickens, pulse palpitating as he makes it to the door. His palm reaches for the doorknob, still kneeling down. But as he stretches himself, the hammer hanging from his belt falls.

Hobie gasps, fingertips brushing along its handle, trying to catch it. It falls down loudly on the floor, metallic clanging sounding like a death knell.

“What was that?!”

“Fuck.” Hobie, without wasting time, grabs the hammer and runs for his life.

The door swings open, the warmth of the sun greeting him. His boots thump loudly on the pavement, leaving his pursuers in the dust.

“Get back here!” They gain speed as their footsteps get louder, a cacophony of breaths and blades unsheathing. “He has supplies, get him!”

Hobie turns a corner, his destination still too far from him to see. His legs are starting to ache, chest aflame as he navigates the town that he thought would be empty.

“Shit!” He makes the mistake of looking back, finding three people now running after him. Wait, three?

A shambler joins the chase, eyes bloodied, arms trying to grasp at the couple.

“Behind you!” Hobie tries to help as they're too focused on trying to catch him.

Just as the man wielding a fire axe turns to look behind him, the shambler catches up and grabs him by the neck, taking a chunk out of his face.

His screams of agony would bring Hobie nightmares, but the guttural yell of grief from his companion would be etched in his mind forever.

“Wilson, no!” He cries, trying to help the other as blood sprays the pavement below.

The dead doesn't let go, maw properly set into his skin.

His pursuer cranes his neck towards the frozen Hobie, eyes pleading with him for help.

Hobie should help, could help. His mind is in scrambles as screams echo around the small town, waking the dead that hides in the forgotten homes. He swallows thickly just as the sound of running footsteps roar from further within the town. So he turns around, running away from the scene as more and more join in, hearing the screams of terror ebb out like a dinner bell.

He doesn't sleep that night, the faces of those strangers are painted behind his eyelids, faces contorted into pure fear. And yet he left them, had to leave them or he might've been caught with them. Died with them, died with strangers who tried to take his things and perhaps his life.

Hobie doesn't want to die amongst strangers, nor be forgotten and lost within the numbers of the dead. To be left for dead is his greatest fear, losing you was the closest he got to feeling that fear. If It's his time, he wants it to be with people he knows, people he loves, not wasting as a husk of himself in a place he doesn't know.

He lays awake in the same bed you once shared, the pillows still smell like your shampoo, and the room has lingering scents of your perfume. His eyes are heavy and lashes sticking to one another. The chipping paint of the ceiling morphs into shapes, the pub he played at, the band's faces, and you, smiling at him like always.

Closing his eyes tightly, he wretches the vision from his mind. He needs to stay sane. As he stands up from the bed, mattress creaking from his weight, he wraps your cardigan around himself, clinging onto it like a child's toy.

The ship rocks back and forth to the calm waves. Stars dotted along the sky while the moonlight stretches across the shining waters. Hobie sits on the deck, where you two would usually drink morning tea at, and where you'd be sitting when you're waiting for him to come home from a gig.

Everything reminds him of you, there's no escaping it, even if he doesn't want to. He doesn't know if it’s the only thing keeping him sane all alone, or the thing that's slowly making him bonkers. Either way, the memory of you keeps him company in the end of the world.

He brings his knees to his chest, chin propped up on it as his eyes follow a dot in the horizon. The moonlight shines on it whilst it moves on the water.

Fear grips him as it continues to move closer to his boat. The shadow moves from side to side, at the mercy of the waves.

Hobie stands up, putting on your cardigan as he makes his way up to the wheel. He steers the boat away from its way, now seeing it as a large cruise ship that's aimlessly floating on the water.

There's no light nor voices coming from it, only the familiar scent of decomposing flesh, and the sound of low groans.

He steers clear of it as he sees a face peeking from the side, eyes unblinking, red almost shining in the light of the moon. He swears he saw it grin at him.

As he swivels the wheel, he lets the ship pass quietly, letting it carry the dead on its empty voyage.

Hobie decides to get back into bed then, eyes too heavy, body too tired. His head lands on the pillow, sleep taking him into its calm arms.

—

Hobie wakes up to your thumb brushing along his jaw. He cracks an eye open, and your smile beams at him.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, me.” A smile spreads across his cheeks, your familiar warmth and scent felt through his bones. His eyes feel so heavy, and you're so warm that he could fall right back to sleep.

“You’re loopy today.” The pads of your fingertips graze along his stubble. “Are you tired, Hobie?”

“Yeah, love.” He breathlessly says, smile etched on his lips as the sun shines behind you, bathing you in warm light. “Where have you been?”

“I was waiting for you.” You tilt your head with a smile. “You sleep like the dead.”

He chuckles, hand grasping on your waist. “I was lookin’ for you in my dream.”

“Yeah?” You chuckle above the sound of wind chimes. “Did you find me in your dream?”

“I haven't, not yet.” He sniffs, and yet can't smell your shampoo or perfume.

“Maybe you should wake up then, continue your search?” You whisper, voice gentle as your hands cup his cheeks.

Hobie grins tiredly, eyes half lidded. “You're already in front of me, what is there left to find?”

“You have to wake up, Hobie.” Your fingers pinch his skin, nails digging into his cheeks as the sun is replaced by darkness. And the warmth in your eyes turn stark white.

“Ow, what?”

“Wake the fuck up!”

Hobie jumps off the bed, head hitting the hard wall of the houseboat as thunder rips through the wood while lightning flashes outside. He can still hear the last echoes of your scream in his ears.

“Fuck!” The whole boat shifts to the side, dangerously close to tipping. His things are knocked from their place, glass shattering and making a mess of the bedroom. If he doesn't get up to the wheel, the waves might break the boat in half.

He panics, grabbing his windbreaker, and boots in the other. As he climbs up the steps, he puts it on awkwardly over your cardigan and as best as he can with his shoelaces loose.

Rain battens down on the houseboat, wind howling outside. Hobie zips his jacket on, taking a breath before opening the door.

The water smacks him right on his face, sharp rain drops stinging his cheeks. He slams the door closed, bracing the wind as he shields himself with his arm.

“Shit!” The slippery floors made it hard for him to find a foothold while the waves shook and turn the boat all over like he's in a blender.

Hobie grips the side wall, trying to keep his balance to get up the steps to the controls. The waves splash and slap his body around, completely drenching him from inside and out.

The winds howl a dreaded tune, one that sailors would run away in fear. Dark waves loom overhead, sea salt on his lips, and seafoam spreading by his feet. All he could do is brace for impact.

—

The city in front of you is still burning. Skyscrapers that used to reach the heavens are now nothing but flaming metal and acrid dark smoke. James had warned you not to stay too long on the balcony when the air outside leaves less to be desired, especially in your condition. James has been pleasant company, but the life growing inside you has made it extra difficult to stay in a good mood. Especially when the one person you want to be next to you is missing.

It feels like your heart is out of your body, missing somewhere else.

Your eyes glance over to the Thames, the water is dark and glimmering under the embers of the city and the moonlight. Despite the crackling of fire and low groans of the dead in the streets, the city is quiet, dead quiet.

You long for the days when the sound of a guitar rips through the morning hours of sleep. Hobie would always apologize with a smile, but you know he has taken the position of your personal alarm clock whenever he would wake up earlier than you. Nowadays you would wake up to James trying to pick up a signal from a CB radio he found during his runs through the building. He said it's to contact the rest of the band, but you can always hear him trying to call for his parents when you're in bed and alone with only the polaroid of him, and your baby to keep you company.

It's been two months since you found out, two months without Hobie. You try not to worry too much, telling yourself that he's alright and probably faring better than you and James. But you only do it for the baby, you know all that worrying would bear down on them. Even the prenatal vitamins James found for you from one of his neighbours wouldn't help if you kept on crying through the night with your chest sore while mumbling Hobie's name.

According to the pregnancy book you found, something that was probably owned by James’ mother, your baby is as big as a raspberry now. You already feel bloated and you dread trying to run away from the dead when your belly gets bigger with time. It also said that in three months the baby will be the size of a lemon, the thought makes you realize how long it has been since you've held fresh produce.

James' parents' condo is big, too big for just two people. You've been stuck within the four walls for months now when you can't step out of the building without the city's horde lunging at you. James and you decided to wait out the dead after you read in the government pamphlet that they like to travel in hordes and they tend to leave when there’s no one left to infect or eat. You've seen that the infected are beginning to thin out, but not fast enough.

The place isn't uncomfortable at all; it's probably the best place you could wait it all out in. It's all pristine white walls and modern furniture that must've been worth more than your houseboat. You've taken the guest room with its king sized bed and hundred thread count sheets. It has its own bathroom, and a bathtub to boot. And yet your mind keeps going back to the houseboat where you and Hobie were happy and content. You hate the fact that he's been missing for two months of your life, two months of the pregnancy where you imagined you two would lean on each other. Not spending it all with James, he's kind and patient, but he's still not your Hobie.

You try not to gaze at the river again, but you keep failing each time. The hot chocolate you made sits abandoned on a small table beside you as the wind blows against your cheeks. The scenery doesn't change, it hasn't changed in two months, but you hope and wish that one day the familiar red paint of the houseboat would appear on the waters with Hobie on it.

With a tight grasp around the binoculars, you take a peek at the waters. Your eyes roam around the same docks where you last saw the houseboat, like before, there's nothing.

James thought that giving you the binoculars would help quell your anxieties, but whenever you look through it, you could only see the faces of the dead staring back at you. You could only hope that you don't— would never see a familiar face among the horde.

The sliding doors to the balcony opens, and out comes James' head peeking through it. He gives you soft smile, blond hair tousled in the wind, and a beard needing a trim. The light from inside the condo spills out into the balcony. You always thought that the city's electric grid would run out within a few weeks, but it's still going strong.

“Hey,” he sighs, gazing at how you grip onto the binoculars and down to your growing stomach. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” you inhale, lower back aching and stomach feeling heavier than yesterday. “Just sightseeing.”

He steps out, still wearing his dad's hunting vest, and his mum's silver bracelet. “Anything new?”

You shake your head. “I thought I heard a gunshot from somewhere, but I couldn't find where it came from.”

James sits down next to you with a groan, hand reaching for the binoculars. “Let me try.” You give it to him, hand subconsciously twirling the ring around your pinky. “Where do you think it came from?”

“West, just by the park.” You cradle your stomach, the growing belly still feels alien to you. But at least now the morning sickness is gone, but your feet look bloated inside your socks.

James hums, looking through the binoculars with intensity. He takes it off his eyes after a minute, shaking his head and giving it back to you. “Yeah, nothing, just a few of the infected.”

“Why are you still in your hunting vest? You already got us enough provisions to last us a couple of weeks.”

He looks down at his appearance, “sorry, I can't seem to just shrug it off.” You know what he meant by it, and it's not the vest he's talking about as he cleans off the grime under his fingernails with his thumb nail. “Does it bother you? I'll take it off.”

You stop him from taking the vest off. “No, it's fine, keep it on if you like.”

Nodding, James puts the beige vest back on. “Is your leg still hurting?” he glances at your leg that's perched on the railing.

“Just sore, is all.” You inhale, thumb drawing circles around your belly. “Putting it up helps.”

“If I just knew how to treat it properly before—”

“You did a good job, James.” You reach for him, palm resting on his arm. “If it was just me I would've thought of cutting it off or something.”

He smiles, patting the back of your hand. “How’s Hobie jr?”

“Fine, just like yesterday and the day before that.” You chuckle. “How are you holding up, James? I should be helping you out there.”

Scoffing, James flicks the back of your hand playfully. “You'd just hold me back, preggo.”

“Hey,” you say with a laugh. “All I'm saying is that you need someone to watch your back. Or at least help carry the load.”

He looks at your stomach then over to your face with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Looks like you already took the load.”

“You little shit!” Slapping his arm, he lets out a feigned yelp. “I'm serious, I could really help.”

“If something happens to you I wouldn't be able to live with myself, boss.” James looks at the distance, eyes darting over to the river. “Besides, I can handle it.” He flexes his arm, smacking his bicep.

You sigh, watching him with a strained smile and shining eyes. You blame the hormones. “Okay, but when you move up another floor again, I'm coming with.”

He shakes his head, chuckling and taking your mug of hot chocolate, taking a sip from the lukewarm drink. “Yeah, no.”

“James.” You say sternly, “come on, what if you get trapped up there alone? Ned would kill me if I get his best mate killed.”

“First of all, I'm nobody's best mate. Yuri is yours, and Ned is Hobie's. Second, I have a fucking gun and have been doing this alone for weeks now. I'll be fine.”

Your tone grows soft. “You're my best mate too, James. So is Hobie's, Yuri's and Ned’s. You're our friend, and if it was anybody else in your position, I would offer the same, and fight you just as hard.” You lean close, arms over the armrest as he stares at you. “I don't want you to fucking die in here alone. Especially when I can still do something to help. Because in a few months I won't be able to.”

“Do you think they're alright out there?”

“Don't change the fucking subject—”

“They have to be okay.” James licks his dry lips, swallowing down the lump in his throat. You've had this conversation before, and it always ends the same way.

You nod, chest heavy and hands shaking. “They are, I know they are. They're tough, our band will hold on.”

He swallows thickly, looking away at you and instead staring at the dark drink. The previous conversation wedges in his mind. “I just— I think I just want to be useful, you know? Because I know this stuff, shooting and shit. So I gotta use it to protect you and the baby because that's all I know.”

You feel tears prick at your lashes. “You've always been useful, James. You're our drummer, the music's shit without you.” He chuckles, sniffing as he gazes at the ruined city. “We're a band, we protect each other. And I've seen you do other shit with expertise, shooting is not all you know.”

He turns to you, smiling gently. “I do make a really good pot of stew.”

“The best.” You smile back, tugging at his hand and holding it fondly.

His face turns solemn, eyes downturned at your intertwined hands. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Can— will you end me if I ever get bitten?”

“James—”

“I've seen them closely, Y/N, I know they're in pain. I don't want to end up like that.” His voice breaks at the end, thumb brushing along the back of your hand, staring down at it. “The pamphlet said you have ten seconds before you turn, that's plenty of time to reload.”

Your lips wobble, head shaking before you inhale deeply. “...Okay. If that's what you want.”

“Y–Yeah, I want that.”

“It won't get to that, I promise.” You don't know that, but you promise him anyway.

“Thank you, boss.”

“Can you promise the same thing for me too—?” Before you could finish your words, the lights shuts off, and you see the wave of darkness ebb through the city. “Shit.”

“I think we need to get to that cabin sooner rather than later.” James utters in the dark.

—

After weeks of waiting and preparing in the darkened condo, with some luck and a miracle, you and James manage to get outside of the condo and even get to ride in his parent's lexus.

You shut your door as quietly as you can, heaving and laden with sweat as you're covered from head to toe in thick winter clothes; so if an infected gets to you, their teeth won't be able to penetrate the cloth. Patting your stomach, the roundness of it is still unusual for you now that you can feel the baby move around.

James mirrors your befuddled look, sweat dripping off his brows and beard sticking to his chin in what could be an uncomfortable feeling. He nods at you, smiling as he grips the steering wheel. All the bags and guns are thrown in the backseat, together with a baby bag that James managed to find in one of the flats.

“We fucking made it.”

“God, I could fucking kiss you right now, James.” You joke, reaching over the center console to briefly hug him.

“I wouldn't say no to that.” He chuckles out, patting your back before turning on the ignition with a shaky hand. “To the cabin we go!”

The engine stirs up immediately, a thrumming sound of victory. James presses a button on a small remote, prompting the automatic garage door to whirr awake.

You laugh, but the sound of running footsteps behind you has your stomach sinking. Looking behind and over the seats, you see a whole horde of them gunning for you and James. It's the building’s residents.

“We need to go!”

“Seat belts!” James revs up the engine and without missing a beat, backs the car towards the bodies as blood sprays all over the windows.

Clicking on your seat belt, you hang on for dear life as James panics and turns the steering wheel around to face the garage doors.

“James!” You yell as more and more clamber their way to the sides. The car jolts, wheels squeaking but not moving as blood and guts fly about.

The sound of the garage door’s metallic clanking has more of the infected join in, the stragglers left by the rest of the city's horde. The sun peeks through the opening, shadows of the stumbling and running crowd managing to squeeze through.

“The wheel's fucking stuck!” James presses down on the pedals, but the car still doesn't move.

You yell when a banging sound erupts from the backseat. Right on the glass, bodies and faces are squished in between it, blood and ripped skin kissing the car's window.

“I need to get out and—” James panics, but before he could grab the shotgun from the backseat, you're already holding onto it. “What—?!”

The loud reverb of the shot stings your ears as the glass of the back window now lay shattered all over your things.

“What the fuck, Y/N?!” James yanks the gun away and you surprisingly let him.

You crawl towards the seats, ignoring the broken and bloodied glass, and quickly ripping the bag zipper open as you grab a molotov cocktail from the arsenal you and James prepared exactly for situations like this. You only have a few minutes before your opening closes and before the horde gets back up.

Without questioning you anymore, James helps you by fishing out his lighter, clicking it once until the cloth lit up the whole car.

Just like Hobie taught you, you toss it through the opening you made within a half second.

The bottle flies over the dead, their heads turn towards the heat and light as it lands directly at them with force, shattering the glass and spreading the fire.

The guttural screams would haunt your dreams, but when the car lurches and the infected gather around the warmth and leave the car be, you smile victoriously.

James drives off, car hitting the streets with a metallic slam and wheels smoking. He hoots and hollers, smacking your side ecstatically.

“You absolute beauty, you!” He laughs, fist slamming against the car's ceiling.

Buildings whizz by, grinning back at James. His smile flickers away as his eyes move down to your lap. You suddenly feel a stinging ache on your palms.

With bated breath, you look down, blood pooling all over his mother's mink coat.

“It's probably fine—”

“Stop the car!” You yell as the car skids to a stop near the bridge. Opening the door, you immediately bolt away from James and climb up the wall of the bridge, standing precariously on the ledge as you look down at the Thames.

The sound of the car door opening has you looking back at a concerned James, the gun in his hand means that you both have reached an understanding.

Big Ben looms over the distance, its clock face standing still just like the world has. Just like you have as you count down to ten.

Your laboured breaths rise above the sound of the rushing river below you. It's dark depths calling for you.

Five.

“It's okay, boss, I—I think you're fine.” James utters but the tears in his eyes says that he has the same worries as you. “Ten seconds have already passed.”

Four.

“T–The glass had their blood, James.” You show him your blood drenched palms. “It might take awhile.”

“It won't fucking take you. Get down from there please.”

Three.

“The pamphlet said it transfers through bodily fluids—”

“Get the fuck down.”

Two.

“I can't.”

James slowly inches towards you, gun holstered.

One.

Your breathing rises, blood dripping from your wounds. “I think—” James yanks you away by the coat’s hem, dragging you away from the ledge as you land against his chest. Your cries are muffled by his own coat.

He shushes you gently, holding you in place. “You're good, see? Still alive.”

“I'm sorry, t–that was pathetic.”

“Pathetic? Nah, just melodramatic.” He sighs in relief, leaning away as he holds you at arm's length. Patting your cheek, he sees your left eye twitching briefly before stabilizing. “Let's get the fuck away from here. We have bandages in the car, come on, boss.”

You wipe all your tears, nodding and trying to calm yourself down. “Okay, we have a reunion to go to.”

—

“So, tell me about this cabin?” James asks while a storm brews in the distance, dark clouds looming over the trees on your right. “We have four whole days of travelling, might as well tell me about it.”

“What?” You ask, head still not screwed on tight on your neck after what transpired a few hours ago. The bandage around your palms are rough against your thumbnail, incessantly picking at it anxiously. The ring around your pinky is stained in red, you should clean it later.

“The cabin, tell me about your time there with Hobie. The PG version please.” He chuckles, eyes straight on the road as he carries precious cargo.

Shaking your head, you look over to him while a pair of beaded bracelets dangle from the rearview mirror. “It was nice, we went there for our anniversary.”

“And?”

“And?” You scoff with a smile. “That's it, we spent time lounging around the place and in the morning we would go out to eat and sightsee.”

“You have a way with your words, boss.”

“What do you want from me, James?” You shift in your seat, arms wrapped around your growing belly. “A narration?”

James shakes his head with a growing grin, eyes flicking to you briefly. “No, I'm just making conversation to fucking get you out of there.”

“Out of my seat?”

“No, your fucking head, emo. You've been quiet this entire time.”

“Oh,” you sniff as thunder rumbles from a distance. “Well, thanks.” You can't tell him that his annoyance actually worked and kept you distracted for a little bit, or you'll never hear the end of it. “The cabin was just an hour away from the town. It was pretty, you know, in a cabin in a horror movie type of shit.”

He chuckles, finally victorious. “Why? Is there a permanent smell of carcass around the place, oh! Or like dolls hanging from the ceiling?”

“That’s fucked up!” You chortle, smacking his bicep playfully while he mirrors your smile. It's nice to be finally out of the damn building you've been stuck on for almost three months. “No, there was none of that, just a bunch of antique furniture that looks older than me and Hobie combined. I remember the guy who owns it described it as, ‘rustic’ and ‘remote.’”

“That place is definitely haunted. Like someone died in there or some fucked up ritual.”

“Oh, you think you can do better?” You jab his side, earning a guffaw from him as he flinches away, stomach ticklish.

“Uh, yeah!”

“Of course you can, rich boy.” You roll your eyes, legs folding to rest on the seat with you, arms wrapped around it as you perch your chin atop your knees. Thunder rolls around, grey clouds now looming over the highway that's littered with abandoned cars and luggage.

“We have a farm further north— a fucking rest house more like.” He sighs, eyes fond as he remembers a memory. “We used to go there every winter with the whole family, go sledding and shit. Until the whole drama happened between my dad and aunt.”

“I'm sorry, James.”

“Nah, don't be. I was a kid, barely remembered the whole tiff they had. I just miss my cousins is all.” He shrugs, clearing his throat as he continues to drive steadily. “There's a huge chance that they might be there, y’know the whole family and stuff.”

“You planning on going there?” You ask, voice turning soft.

“Yeah, I think so— well, after we meet up with Hobie and hopefully the others.”

You smile, hand reaching to grasp reassuringly at his bicep. “Sounds like a good plan, James. We'll come with you, as support and definitely not to test out the hundred rooms you guys probably have. What's the name of the place?”

“Mudwood manor.” You nod, taking note of the name. “Dad's gonna have a heart attack if he ever saw you lot. He's still not over what happened two years ago.” He chuckles, hand patting your own in appreciation. “Thanks, boss, for everything. I think I wouldn't have made it this far without you.”

You shake your head, tears making your vision blurry. You blame the hormones. “That should be my words, not yours.” James mirrors your expression, inhaling deeply to get rid of the lump in his throat. “If your parents ever saw you now, they'd be proud of you. I'm proud of you.”

He subtly wipes away at his eye. “You gonna name the kid after me now?”

Laughing, you pat his arm before letting go. “Maybe, I'm seriously considering it.”

“Shit, really?” He says with disbelief. “James Junior, wow.”

You wince, making a face. “Probably not with the Junior. Ew.”

The two of you laugh as rain now pours over the car, drenching the pavement. The sound reverberates through the metal, and the broken window doesn't help with tamping down the sound.

You look over your shoulder, finding that the tarpaulin that you hastily stuck on the hole is hanging on.

“Hey,” James pats your knee, eyes shining despite the dark clouds and pouring rain outside. “We’ll make it there.”

“I know.”

“Let me worry for the two of you, okay?” He glances at your stomach, your belly button is beginning to protrude through your shirt.

“Careful, you'll have worry lines.”

“Birds find worry lines fit, boss.”

With a roll of your eyes, you pinch his arm. “Focus on the damn road, Jameson.”

—

“Wake up, Hobie.”

Your voice yanks him from deep slumber, hard pebbled rocks digging into his skin as he rises from the coast.

He aches all over, arms throbbing, knees screaming in protest as he kneels down on the rough rocks. His heavy eyes roam around the beach, finding nothing but miles of the rocky coast with its boulders piled up high, edges smooth from years of waves lapping around it.

Rain bears down on him, ears ringing from the sound of rain hitting the hardened ground. His body shivers, eyes straining from the downpour.

A sound of knocking wood from behind takes his attention. Looking over his shoulder, he finds the remains of his houseboat, all shards of wood and glass, memories scattered and floating in the cold dark water.

A scream almost escapes out of him. Hand covering his mouth, as he keels over to the rocks, palm digging harshly into the beach.

It was his home and yours for almost ten years, and it was his only salvation, his safety while he was out treading the waters. And it was his one reminder of you. Everything in it had memories, both fond and somewhat awful, but they were his, and now it lays in the bottom of the sea. Picture frames floating with the seaweeds, shoes and clothes tangled around drifting wood.

But by some miracle, his guitar case floats in between two rocks, knocking against the other, in tune with the waves.

Hobie, with whatever's left of his energy, stands up on wobbly legs. There's scratches all over his skin, all searing pain that almost had him falling back down on his knees. And yet he continues on, legs weak, feet barely moving towards the guitar case.

Salty water hits his feet as he shivers, he treads on until the water reaches his waist. The cold and salt exacerbates his injuries, with clenched teeth and shuddered breath, he reaches for the only thing that's left of his home.

The thick leather brushes along his fingertips, hands wrapped around it as he tugs it closer to his chest. Hobie shakily hugs it, a sob pushing through his carefully built wall as he cries atop it like it's a casket that's about to be buried.

His head lays on top of it while rain pours overhead. And his tears are carried by the salty waves.

—

Hobie lugs around whatever's left of his houseboat. All shoved inside a tattered backpack that was once yours. Your charms still clink against the other, and pins still clinging on the fabric. His hand holds onto the guitar case, afraid of opening it and seeing the damage on his guitar. So he carries it around, a heavy weapon that contains his most precious memory. He can still see the sticker of your face on the guitar, he hopes that it's still intact.

He's drenched from head to toe as the storm persists on his back, as if fate is playing with him.

It's bad enough that he had to trek the rest of the way towards the cabin, but the storm keeps following him, as if it's pursuing him and hindering him from finding you. With each town he passes, he sees less and less of the dead. Some lay withered on the ground, chest cavity opened, guts spilled all over the pavement while they desperately tried to reach him with their skeletal hand.

They seem to be dying out, or the virus can no longer keep them upright, not when the host is already decomposing. And now it desperately seeks a new host, even when their jaws are barely holding on, skin blanched and bones bleached by the sun.

Hobie passes by countless evacuation centres just like the one he saw before, and they all sit there empty just like the others. Medical tents lay fallen on the ground, gurneys broken and beaten beside dirty syringes and bandages. Despite that, he checks all of them thoroughly for a sign from you, anything that would indicate that you passed through. But he has seen none.

He feels like the last man alive.

He scavenges and rests in empty houses, careful not to wake the dead that might be hiding within the deep crevices of the town. Every night, he lights a fire, small enough to warm him and not let out smoke that would signal other people that could hurt him for what little he has. Hobie knows how to survive, he went through it during his teenage years, and he never thought that he had to experience it all over again. The uncertainty of where your next meal would be, the dangers lurking around every corner; and not trusting other people to help you. His old self is rearing his head again, peeking through his flesh that you once affectionately held in your hands.

When he finds you, would you see the same person you loved? Would he see the same person in you again after everything?

Hobie's own mind is his enemy. Back on the boat he only worried about hallucinations or delusions that could plague him in the dark. But out here, where the dead lurk, everything and anything could kill him. Even his own head.

It's been a week of walking, through rain and the dead, he finally makes it to the same woods that he once shared with you.

The gates of the cabin squeak in the wind, metal gates swinging around as the breeze picks up, fluttering his lashes.

There's a walkway leading towards the house made out of pebbles, pebbles that remind him of the coast, the same grey shade as the clouds, all rounded around the edges. He roams his eyes over to the cabin, all oak and dark yellowed windows. A porch sits in front with a rocking chair that gently moves back and forth in the wind. The perfect place to rest at the end of the world.

A wind chime clinks from somewhere, and as he cranes his head to the left, there sits under a pile of strewn out branches and leaves, a car, one with a shattered window at the back and side mirrors ripped from the hinges. Bloodied specks dot around its silver paint, scratches and bullet holes mar what was once pristine.

Hobie swallows thickly as he opens the gate, there right above the squeaking metal, a loud shot can be heard from the inside. He jumps in place, hand tight around the rusty metal. Then a guttural cry, one that sends shivers down his spine.

He runs on the path, stones rolling down as he makes his way towards the cabin. His hand wraps around the doorknob, finding it unlocked.

Pushing it, there's resistance from the other side. And as he stares down, he sees a pool of blood slowly spreading over the floorboards.

Panic sets in, as he pushes hard on the door.

“Get the fuck away!” Another shot echoes around as birds fly away from their perches outside.

Hobie heaves and stares at the bullet hole on the door. It missed his head by a couple of inches.

With wide eyes, he stares through it, body frozen as he sees you in the dark with a gun pointed right at him. For a second he thought that he's dreaming again. But he wouldn't dream of something so horrible as he sees what's in your lap.

“Why won't you just die?!”

Hobie dodges before another shot takes out a chunk of the door. Flinging his body towards cover, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. “Love? It's me!” He can barely recognize his own voice.

“Oh god.” You cry, and a smacking sound can be heard. “I'm already going crazy.”

“No, you're not, it's me, love. It's Hobie.” He then calls your name, soft and filled with fondness that it has you dropping the gun on the floor, metal clanging on wood.

“Hobie?” But he can still recognize your voice.

“Yeah, don't shoot.” His whole body shakes with trepidation.

“Hobie!” Your sobs get louder as he opens the door, letting out the pungent smell of blood and letting in sparse sunlight that filters through the dark clouds. “Hobie?” He stands there, hand on the doorknob as he looks down at you and the body laying on your lap. Maybe you are going crazy. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

Hobie looks down, staring eye to eye at a dead shambler with a hole right in his head that was blocking the door. Then he gazes back at you with James' head laying right on your lap, eyes closed, blood pooling down the bullet hole in his head and down your legs.

His hand trembles at the sight of his friend, eyes watering, painting you in water colours of blood and gore. Chest sore and stomach in knots, he closes the distance. His eyes land on you, bloodied yet alive. Then he looks down, the familiar ring around your pinky is murky and covered in red, and then he sees it.

“H–He asked me to. James, he— he saved me again.” You stare at him with wild bloodshot eyes, hands drenched in crimson as you tremble and fix the blond locks on his head. “He got bit. I'm so fucking sorry.” There's a huge chunk of his neck missing.

“Are you—?”

“No, it didn't get m–me.” You heave, barely getting your words out as you stare into his eyes.

He kneels down, hand reaching down and towards your stomach. “Are you pregnant?” His hand is warm, and he feels real. You feel real.

You nod, tears streaming down your face. “I tried to tell you before—”

His arms engulf you, holding you close, breathing you in, death and all.

A/N: thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you liked it ❤️

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

[solxamber]

can I request a twst males (maybe females)and nrc staff with a reader who kinda likes deforms when their stress , they could be like a human slime who 'slops' around , she's human enough but some parts of her are slimy (maybe like a human magma slime from minecraft) , they stresses a lot and one day they just blob into their hands (the twst males ans staff) whilst they start crying , if this is too complicated u can ignore this.(my English is not too god)

Slime! Reader with All NRC + Rollo, Neige, Najma Viper, NRC Staff

hi! i hope I've interpreted your ask correctly! and your English is totally fine don't worry about! also I added najma because i didn't know which twst females you wanted.

Riddle Rosehearts:

When Riddle first sees you start to "slop" around, he’s at a loss for words. He's usually composed and strict, but seeing you melt in his arms—quite literally—throws him off.

“Y-You're not following the rules of physical form!” Riddle stammers, attempting to keep calm, but inside, he’s panicking. His need to control the situation is overridden by concern when you cry softly, slimy tears soaking into his uniform.

He awkwardly pats your head, trying to keep himself together. “There, there. You can cry as much as you need to, but please… maintain some semblance of form.”

Trey Clover:

Trey, with his calm demeanor, isn’t too fazed by the fact that you’re half-human, half-slime. In fact, he’s probably the most accepting.

When you melt into a puddle of stress in his arms, he just holds you close, gently massaging your shoulders (well, where your shoulders should be in slime form). “You know, stress baking helps me,” he says soothingly. “Maybe once you’re feeling solid again, we can bake something together. Or… we can make slime cookies?” He smiles softly as your sobs slow.

Cater Diamond:

Cater's immediate reaction is to whip out his phone for a picture—but then he stops himself because this moment is actually serious. When you’re upset and melting all over him, he adjusts quickly.

“Whoa, hey, hey! No need to puddle-up on me!” Cater jokes lightly but holds you tightly, letting you feel safe. “You know, I’ve heard slime baths are all the rage on MagiCam! How about we figure out how to make this slime stress into a #trend?”

Despite his attempt to lighten the mood, his grip is firm, and he lets you cry it out.

Ace Trappola:

Ace, being Ace, doesn’t know what to do when you start to melt into slime. His first instinct is to make fun of the situation, but the second you start crying, he feels a little bad.

“Okay, okay! I didn’t mean to stress you out that much!” Ace protests, awkwardly wiping your slimy tears. “You know, some people use this stuff for beauty treatments, so really, you’re just giving me a free face mask.”

Even though he’s flustered, Ace sticks by your side, not moving until you feel better.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce’s first instinct is to panic when he sees you melting. His problem-solving brain kicks into overdrive, but there’s no quick fix for slime stress.

“I-Is this normal?! Should I be calling a healer?” he blurts out while cradling you, his heart racing. His protective instincts take over as he holds you close, even though you’re all slimy. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out. I’ve got your back, okay?”

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona looks down at the slimey version of you with a raised eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting to literally have you melting in his arms.

“You’re a mess, herbivore,” Leona grumbles, but there's a warmth in his voice as he holds onto you, preventing you from dripping all over the floor. He doesn’t let go, even when his tail gets a little slimy too. “Don’t worry about it. Just stick close, okay?”

Ruggie Bucchi:

Ruggie is caught off guard by your sudden transformation, but he’s adaptable. He scoops you up into his arms with a quick grin.

“Hey, hey, don’t go melting all over the place! I’ve got things to do, y’know?” Ruggie jokes lightly. But his tone softens when he sees your distress. “But I guess those can wait. C’mere, I’ll help you get back on your feet—or whatever you have when you’re not slime.”

Jack Howl:

Jack is momentarily stunned when you melt in his arms. His first reaction is to try to lift you back up, but, well, you’re slime, so that doesn’t quite work out.

He huffs, blushing a little. “Just… take your time. You don’t need to worry about anything. I’ve got you, okay?” Jack's protective nature shines through, his arms gently wrapped around what solid parts of you remain.

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul, ever the strategist, watches you melt with wide eyes, calculating all the ways to “fix” the situation. However, when you start to sob, his business-like demeanor cracks.

“Ah… There, there,” he says, awkwardly patting your head as you slime down his pristine suit. “I assure you, we can handle this… strategically. No need to cry.” Despite his words, Azul’s genuine concern for you is obvious as he holds you.

Floyd Leech:

Floyd thinks your slime form is hilarious. The second you start to melt, he bursts out laughing.

“Whoa! Shrimpy, you're all gooey now!” Floyd teases, poking at your slimy form. But when he sees you crying, his mood shifts in an instant. “Aww, don’t be sad, Shrimpy. I like this version of you, too!”

He wraps himself around you, squeezing you tightly—slime and all.

Jade Leech:

Jade is intrigued by your stress-induced slime form. While he finds it fascinating, he’s also quick to comfort you when you start crying.

“Quite an interesting phenomenon,” Jade muses, wiping away your slimy tears with a handkerchief. “But please, don’t distress yourself. There’s no need for that. I’m right here.” His gentle voice soothes you as he helps you reform.

Kalim Al-Asim:

Kalim is both shocked and amused when you start melting in his arms, but he quickly recovers, hugging you tightly.

“Oh no! You’re turning into slime! Is there something I can do? Wait, I know—let’s throw a ‘Feel Better’ party!” Kalim’s enthusiasm is infectious, but he holds onto you as you cry, offering endless reassurances.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil tries to remain composed when you melt into his arms, though he’s secretly panicking on the inside.

“I suppose this is a normal reaction to stress for you?” he says calmly, even though he’s not sure what to do. He strokes your hair (or, well, slime), patiently waiting for you to calm down. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll help you through this.”

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil’s immediate reaction to your slime form is a mixture of shock and mild horror—at first, he’s concerned about you, but also a bit put out by the mess.

“My robes…” he sighs, but his voice softens as he holds you, tears and slime alike. “You’re allowed to cry. But I refuse to let you stay in this state of disarray.”

He brushes the slime from your face and helps you regain composure, all while managing to maintain his usual grace.

Rook Hunt:

Rook is enchanted by your unique form. The second you melt into his arms, he’s already waxing poetic.

“Ah, mon cher! Even in your most vulnerable state, you are truly magnificent!” Rook exclaims, holding you tenderly. “Worry not, I will be your steadfast support, slime or not.”

Epel Felmier:

Epel is confused when you start to melt, but his protective instincts kick in fast.

“Whoa, whoa! Hang on there!” Epel says, panicking slightly as he tries to keep you together. “You don’t have to be all stressed out around me. Just breathe, alright?”

His attempts to soothe you are clumsy but genuine, and he won’t leave your side until you’re back to your usual self.

Idia Shroud:

Idia’s first instinct is to panic. You’re melting? This is definitely not something he can handle without freaking out.

“Oh no… oh no… this is bad,” he mutters, but when he sees your tears, he stops. “Uh, hey, don’t cry! I mean, sure, you’re all gooey, but… you’re still cool.”

Idia awkwardly pats your head, unsure of how to handle the situation but doing his best to comfort you.

Ortho Shroud:

Ortho doesn’t panic like his brother. Instead, he’s immediately analyzing the situation with his scanners.

“Are you alright?” Ortho asks, his voice full of genuine concern. “Don’t worry, I can help you! Maybe a temperature adjustment will help stabilize your form?” He hovers near, ready to assist however he can.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus finds your slime form fascinating, though he’s more concerned about your well-being. When you melt into his arms, he cradles you gently.

“There, there, child of man,” Malleus murmurs softly, his voice like a calm lullaby. His powerful arms hold you securely as your slime tears drip onto his cloak. “You need not fret. I will ensure your safety, no matter your form.”

His dragon-like gaze watches you intently, the smallest smile forming at the corners of his lips as your sobs quiet. "Even in your most... fluid state, you are still precious to me."

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia finds your slime form to be amusing, but he’s quick to adapt. When you start melting in his arms, he lets out a cheerful laugh.

“Ah, how adorable! Don’t worry, my dear. I’ve seen stranger things in my time.” He pats your head reassuringly, not fazed at all by the situation. “Cry all you need to. I’ll be here when you’re ready to solidify again.”

Lilia hums an old fae lullaby while he holds you, and his mischievous side takes a backseat as he comforts you through the tears.

Silver:

Silver blinks slowly when you start to melt in front of him, but instead of panicking, he gently wraps his arms around your slumping form, not minding the slime at all.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice steady and calm, “it’s okay. I’m here.” His hand moves to stroke your slime-morphed head with gentle care, his touch soothing despite your current state.

“I don’t know exactly how to help,” he admits, “but I’ll stay with you until you feel better.” He pulls you closer, letting you rest in his lap while he hums softly, his presence grounding you. “You don’t have to hold it all in. I’ll keep watch.”

His quiet, reassuring demeanor slowly makes you feel more at ease. He may not say much, but the safety you feel with him speaks volumes.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek is utterly baffled when you start to melt into slime in his arms. For a moment, he just freezes, wide-eyed, trying to process what’s happening. Then he bursts out, “WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE YOUNG MASTER—!!”

His voice is loud, but as he sees the tears in your slimy state, his tone shifts—just a little. “H-Human! Cease this display at once! You cannot fall apart like this!” But even as he says that, he’s awkwardly attempting to gather your melted form without dropping any of it, his hands trembling slightly.

His frustration shows, but underneath it, he’s worried. “I—! Ugh, fine! Stay like this if you must! Just know I... I shall remain by your side, no matter what form you take! So, compose yourself, human!”

His stubborn loyalty shines through, and despite the bluster, you can tell he’s genuinely concerned. It’s a chaotic kind of support, but it’s Sebek, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Rollo Flamme:

Rollo is startled and somewhat appalled by your sudden transformation into slime, but he masks his discomfort with a dignified air.

"This... is highly irregular," he mutters, though his hands remain gentle as they hold you. "But I suppose even someone like you has their moments of weakness."

Despite his words, there's a hint of warmth in his actions, and he stays by your side until you're feeling better, his cold demeanor melting just a bit.

Neige LeBlanche:

Neige’s reaction is pure concern when you start to melt. He immediately wraps his arms around you, holding you close despite the slime.

“Oh no, are you okay?” Neige asks, worry etched across his face. “Don’t cry, please! You’re still beautiful, no matter what!”

His words are sincere, and he strokes your back soothingly as you sob, not caring one bit about the slime soaking into his clothes.

Najma Viper:

Najma is quick to comfort you when you start melting in her presence. She’s a bit surprised but reacts with ease.

“Whoa, that’s a neat trick! But hey, no need to cry, okay?” Najma smiles gently, holding you close. “You’re safe with me. We’ll figure this out.”

She’s calm and reassuring, her warmth helping you regain your composure faster than you thought possible.

Dire Crowley:

Crowley dramatically flails his arms when you start melting into slime, completely unprepared for this turn of events.

“Oh dear heavens, my precious student! What calamity has befallen you?” He panics, trying to scoop up your gooey form in a very uncoordinated manner. “No need to cry! Your benevolent headmaster will, um, fix this! Somehow!”

He’s more focused on not getting slime on his fancy coat than actually helping, but he makes a grand show of being concerned, which is as close to comfort as you’re going to get from him.

Divus Crewel:

Crewel’s eyes widen, but he quickly regains his composure.

“Well, this is... unexpected,” he says, eyeing the slime dripping onto his pristine coat. “But emotions, pup, are not something to be ashamed of. Even if they do involve... melting.”

He carefully wipes the slime from his hands, his tone softening. “You’ll pull yourself together soon. We’ll make sure of it. And once you do, we’ll work on controlling that stress—there’s no excuse for letting your emotions ruin your wardrobe.”

He pats your head in a surprisingly gentle manner, his usual sternness fading in the face of your distress.

Mozus Trein:

Trein, with Lucius perched on his shoulder, looks down at you as you begin to melt into a puddle of slime.

“Hmm,” he muses thoughtfully. “This is not something you see every day, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

He crouches down, his expression surprisingly calm. “When one is overwhelmed, their emotions can manifest in unusual ways. It’s important to take a moment and breathe.” He offers a hand, which Lucius bats at. “Compose yourself. You’ll recover, just as we all do from difficult moments.”

It’s unexpectedly wise advice, and his steady presence helps you feel grounded again.

Ashton Vargas:

Vargas is completely caught off guard by your sudden transformation into slime. He stares at you in disbelief before quickly scooping you up with a burst of energy.

“Whoa! That’s some serious stress! But don’t worry, we’ll get you back into shape in no time!” he says, flexing a bicep as if that will somehow solve your problems.

He awkwardly pats your gooey form, his optimism unshaken. “This just means you’ve got some inner strength waiting to burst out! Once you pull yourself together, we’re doing a killer workout to blow off all that steam, okay?”

It’s hard to stay upset with his over-the-top enthusiasm, even in your slime state.

Sam:

Sam chuckles when you start melting, entirely unfazed.

“Well, now, ain’t that something,” he says, leaning on the counter of his shop. “You must be feelin’ all sorts of stress, huh? No worries, I’ve seen worse.”

He grabs a cloth and gently wipes your slime tears. “Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll brew up something that’ll help you feel right as rain? Stress is just like a storm—it’ll pass, and you’ll be stronger for it.”

His easygoing nature and the comforting atmosphere of his shop start to calm you down almost immediately. It’s impossible not to feel better in his presence.

Masterlist

[thevoidstaredback]

Part 1

Danny woke up with the sun. Vlad would still be in bed for a few hours yet, so he had more than enough time to deck out the entire house and garden, with help from the ghosts, of course.

He planned to meet the others in the back gardens with some food to make sure nothing would go wrong.

Pandora, Dora, and Dani were the first three there, waiting for him already. And, as he set out the food none of them needed but would eat anyway, Johnny and Kitty showed up. Ember, Box Lunch, Youngblood, Poindexter, and Skulker came together. Walker, Desiree, Fright Knight, The Vultures, Blob Ghosts, and Spectra showed up separately, though in near quick succession. Frostbite, Undergroth, and Ghost Writer had wanted to come along, too, but would only be able to be there for the party itself.

All week, the guests had been arriving and staying in Madison, Wisconsin. They hadn't been able to house anyone because Vlad was going to be the very last to know, so they'd used his money to rent out a hotel for the week of the gala, including another day afterwards.

"Plasmius still doesn't know, right?" Ember asked as soon as everyone had gathered.

Dani started cackling. "Nope!"

"He's suspicious, though," Vulture One said.

"We think he probably noticed the money for the hotel." Vulture Three added.

"He hasn't done anything more than passing glares, though," Danny pointed out.

"He's not said anything?"

"Nope."

"Perfect!" Spectra smiled, "How're you going to break it to him tonight?"

"Well," he started, "I was thinking I play it off as if he was the one to plan it."

"Oh?" Pandora raised her eyebrow, "That won't be easy."

"Sure it will!" Poindexter shouted, "Plasmius is so old, that his memory's going!"

Youngblood was nodding enthusiastically. "We can even have his suit set out for him and everything!"

"What have you done with the acceptance letters?" Dora wondered.

"They're hidden in my closet," Dani said.

Skulker hummed. "And I've taken care of any emails or messages sent to his phone and computer. All went straight to the kid."

Danny snickered. "This is gonna be so much fun!

"Hell yeah!" Johnny cheered.

Fright Knight cleared his throat. "Any last minute arrangements that need taken care of?"

The group paused for a minute, all of them thinking. Finally, Danny said, "Well, other than finally decorating the place, we'll need to get food- We forgot caterers!"

"I can handle that," Desiree said, "Just this once, though," She snapped her fingers and a paper contract appeared in Walker's hand. "Since you're head of security, you should probably hold onto the contracts."

Walker nodded, tucking the papers into his coat. "We'll have some of the Blob Ghosts with us at the gates. Fright will watch the front and I'll take the back. Skulker will be in the security room, and the Vultures will take the rest of the Blobs and watch the skies."

"Why're we even goin' so far f'r dese peoples' 'afety?" Box Lunch, who had only been able to speak for just over a year and was doing fantastically, asked. "They're just rich. Do dey have and re-rede- good tings 'bout 'em?"

Dora chuckled, quieting the others with a glare. "Everyone has redeeming qualities, sweetheart."

"Kitty?" Dani dragged out the word as she asked.

"Almost everyone," Dora corrected swiftly, "Besides, it'll look bad if anyone gets hurt while we're hosting them."

"Speaking of," Pandora spoke up, "Is everyone here going to be attending tonight?"

Youngblood tilted his head to the side. "What'd'ya mean?"

Spectra flipped her hair, which was straight down her back today, over her shoulder. "Only so many of us have human disguises. It's not like we blend in well with the living."

"Well, can't everyone just stay invisible the whole night?" Vulture Two suggested.

"And miss out on all the fun?" Dani almost yelled, "No way!"

Danny hummed. "Our security team has to be here, and may even need to make an appearance. At least Walker and Frighty will have to be disguised."

"Manageable," Fright Knight nodded.

"Got it," Walker agreed.

"Great. Anyone wanting to be guests will have to be disguised as well," Dora pointed out.

"Writer, Frostbite, Undergrowth, and I all have that covered," Pandora said, "Dora, Spectra, Ember, Johnny, and Kitty will all be able to pass as living."

"What about us?" Poindexter glared. He didn't want to be left out of all the fun, and was pretty sure Box Lunch and Youngblood didn't, either.

Dani leaned on his shoulder. "You three will just get to come hang out with me and Wulf in the Keep."

Youngblood's eyes had stars in them as he whipped around and stared at her. "We get to play in the keep?!"

"That'll go well," Spectra laughed.

"I'll stay with them," Dora said.

"You sure?" Danny asked.

"Of course," she nodded, "While being here would be fun, I don't think Wulf is quite ready to handle four trickster spirits."

"And you being there will somehow be better? Neither of you are protectors."

No, but I am a caretaker spirit. And, as long as they don't go anywhere near the catacombs," she shot a serious look at the four children, "I'm sure we'll be fine."

"Alright," Danny accepted, "but Jazz, Tuck, and Sam will probably be ready to help if you need it, okay?"

"Much appreciated."

"What do we still need to do?" Kitty asked.

"Skulker, Walker, Fright Knight, the Vultures, and the Blobs are all on security, so you should all probably start setting that up," Pandora said. They agreed and disappeared. "Ember will handle music, right?"

She waved her hand will a nod, "You got it. Boring, old people classics coming right up."

"Johnny, are you okay with taking over valet?"

"I get to drive other people's cars, right?"

"As long as you don't crash them," Danny added.

"Sure," he smirked, "But I can still prank them, right?"

Danny sighed, but nodded.

"Yes!"

"Kitty-"

"I'll watch over the kitchen," she said.

Pandora nodded once. "Spectra? Desiree?"

"I'll go in as an actual guest," Spectra's smile spelled mischief.

Desiree matched her with a grin of her own, "I'll go with as your date."

Again, Pandora nodded at the two. "I'll come as a guest as well with Ghost Writer, Undergrowth, and Frostbite."

"Settled?" Danny asked. After agreements, he turned to Dani and the kids. "You four want to help me finally deck this place out?" Their matching grins said everything.

With a final dismissal, the group vanished to finish their final preparations.

Part 3