#the bear attack in ch8 is fucked up

[queen-vv]

Geeeeeeez, Golden Kamuy is brutal

[justatiredghost]

Fixes to the Timeline Ch8

It was the screaming that jolted Klaus awake, piercing through the silence, so full of terror and pain that it left him in a cold sweat just from the sound alone. It was still dark out but he stumbled out of bed regardless, halfway to the door before he even realized it was the ghosts and not someone he could actually help. 

They pressed in around him, grasping hands reaching for him but thankfully passing through, their cries of fear and despair turning to desperation and rage as Klaus tried to shut them out. Dave was stumbling out of bed after him, barely awake, nearly bumping into him as he tried to get his bearings. 

“We under attack?” Dave mumbled, but he was beginning to wake up properly now and seemed to remember where they were. 

“Depends,” Klaus sighed as he sagged against his door, pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes as if he could somehow rub the visions of death away. “Not unless you count ghosts.”

“I definitely think they’re on the list of enemies to look out for, yes,” Dave said, gently drawing his hands away from his face. He moved closer, as if trying to block out the ghosts which Klaus appreciated even if it didn’t exactly work. 

“Well then I’ve got bad news,” Klaus joked halfheartedly.

He flinched back as a ghost swiped through Dave at him, screaming so loud Klaus clamped his hands over his ears, not that that actually helped. They always could reach him regardless of earplugs or anything else he’d ever tried. He wanted to pretend he was fine, to avoid worrying Dave more than he likely already was, but it was just too much. 

It was horrible and painful and he wanted to shrink down as small as possible and stop existing but even that wouldn’t help get rid of them. They’d follow him wherever he went. He clawed at his own arms to try to ground himself, to bring himself back to the present and remind himself that they couldn’t touch him, he was safe, but it was a losing battle. 

“Well, shit,” Dave said, drawing his attention. “I knew they’d surround us eventually. Come on, we gotta get back to the fort!” 

Grabbing a bewildered Klaus’ hand with sudden energy, he dragged him back over to the bed where he ripped off the sheet and draped one side over the bedside table before handing the other end to Klaus. 

“Help me out with this, quick!”

Catching on, Klaus dragged a chair over and draped it over while Dave grabbed their pillows.

“Here’s your weapon, now let’s go!” Dave said, handing him a pillow before dropping down and crawling under their makeshift blanket fort.

Klaus huffed a laugh before rolling underneath to join him. “I think they got me,” he said as he sprawled out on his back, smiling despite himself.

“Don’t you die on me, Hargreeves,” Dave said, crawling over to put his pillow under Klaus’ head. 

“Wait, so if the pillows are our weapons, did you just put a grenade under my head?” Klaus asked.

“Look, the analogy only goes so far, just roll with it.”

“Okay, okay,” Klaus grinned. “Now, are you gonna kiss this injury and make it better, or what?” 

He gestured to his torso, winking at his lack of shirt. Dave grinned back but as he leaned closer, he paused, distracted by his tattoo there as he so often was. ‘Klaus loves Dave.’ Not that Dave could read any Thai, but he’d long since memorized the characters and now he reached out, fingers tenderly ghosting over the familiar lines almost reverently and the breath caught is Klaus’ throat. 

He couldn't help but wonder how Dave was so good at rendering him speechless. He treated him with such tenderness, like he meant it, all of it, like Klaus could ever deserve this. Klaus never knew what to do in moments like these, feeling too overwhelmed and terrified but also so so loved and happy and excited that this was real, this was truly happening and, fuck, he loved this man. 

Dave leaned down and as he pressed his lips there Klaus thought his heart might stop beating. And then Dave blew a raspberry causing Klaus to bark out a laugh as he squirmed under him, trying to push him away and he never knew he could be this happy and in love.  

“Shit,” Klaus said, still laughing hysterically as Dave settled back down beside him. “You’re a monster.”

“All better though, right?” Dave said, looking much too proud of himself. 

“You would make a terrible medic.”

Klaus had been laughing but the gory remnants of a man chose that moment to lurch forward, down through the top of their blanket fort, causing Klaus to flinch despite himself. He was usually better at hiding it than this, but then somehow Dave always made him want to drop those defenses he’d spent his entire life building up. Dave was always just such an open book, how could Klaus not want to do the same? Too bad pretty much all Klaus had to show was ugliness. It was worth it, though, because Dave reached out and squeezed his hand. 

“Hang on, I’ll go bolster our defenses.”

“Wait,” Klaus said, reflexively grabbing his arm when he went to leave, but hesitated. He knew he could just say it, Dave wouldn’t think he was weak like his father always had, but he still found it hard sometimes. So instead he shifted back into character. “You can’t go out there, you’ll be overrun!” 

“Shit, you’re right, we’ll just have to hunker down and wait it out,” Dave said before scooting closer but not quite touching, giving him the space he needed while still making it clear he was here for him. Because, as usual, Dave always knew what he couldn’t say. “I’m guessing it’s a bad one.”

“It’s bad,” Klaus agreed with a defeated sign because there was no point in denying it. 

“What can I do?” Dave asked, gently brushing the back of his hand across Klaus’ cheek.

“I mean, you got any drugs on you? Because that would be amazing right about now.”

“Five said you were sober,” Dave said and the worst part was he didn’t sound like he was judging. And Klaus knew he wasn’t, they’d talked about this plenty and he seemed to understand how nightmarish the ghosts were, but it was only a matter of time before he ended up like everyone else and realized he was a lost cause. 

“Yeah, unfortunately I am,” Klaus said, partly burying his face in his pillow. What he wouldn’t do to get fucked up out of his mind. But he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to let everyone down again, he knew they were all waiting for it but he didn’t want to lose them again. 

“I’m proud of you,” Dave said and and that just made him feel worse.

“Yeah,” Klaus said sarcastically. “Look how great I’m doing. Go me.”

“You are, I mean it. What you’re doing is really hard and I’m here for you, whatever you choose.”

There was a bitter taste in Klaus’ mouth. He knew Dave thought he meant it and somehow that just made it worse. Everything felt so impermanent in the war, what if Dave expected the ghosts to at least be better away from the battlefield? What if Klaus let him down, unable to handle it like he thought he should? He didn’t know how Dave would take all this, finding out that, really, Klaus hadn’t changed at all. There was no moving on for him, not when the ghosts never left him. This was just his life. This was just him. 

“What time even is it?” Klaus asked, looking around for a clock, mostly trying to escape the conversation.

“Three in the morning,” Dave said. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Lay on top of me.”

“What?” Klaus asked, bemused despite himself. “As much as I appreciate the initiative, I’m really not sure I’m in the mood.”

“Hilarious,” Dave said, nudging him. “You don’t like being held when the ghosts are bad, but you still like some sort of contact, right? I”ll keep my hands away and hopefully this’ll help.”

“Hmm, are you sure this isn’t some kink you’ve just never mentioned? Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to indulge, you just don’t need to justify it,” Klaus joked.

Still, he did as requested and rolled on top of Dave. He felt Dave’s hands raise as if to encircle him, but he apparently remembered himself because they just hovered above him as he settled before dropping back down to his sides. Dave was very much a cuddler so he had to wonder if this was difficult for him. 

So was Klaus, really, but it was true, it had always been a double edged sword. Being restrained, feeling hands on him, it’s a common enough nightmare and if he wasn’t completely aware of himself and his surroundings it was easy to assume the worst. But the warmth of contact was so unlike crypts and death, it could be comforting and he very much appreciated this. 

He buried his face in Dave’s neck, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the warm breath on his hair. He tried not to hear the screaming, the rage and fear in the voices of the ghosts around him as they pleaded and begged for help they’d never receive. And he tried not to think about how much easier all of this would be if he could just take something, anything, to get just a moment of silence.

“Wanna play a word game?” Dave asked with sudden enthusiasm. 

No doubt he knew there was some sort of inner turmoil going on inside his mind. Klaus couldn’t help but wonder what else he saw. Nothing good, probably.

[keeroo92]

Be My Nightmare Ch8

Consequences

TW for gore, enjoy!

Word count - 3,257

~~~~Previous Chapter~~~~

__________

---Reader---

This is so not what I studied…

“God damnit, Ken.”

Hideous burns extended almost to his elbows. The scorched tapestry of red and black tissue oozed yellowish goo where the deep fatty layer had melted, filling the room with a putrid scent. His hands resembled overdone steak and you cringed at the comparison.

You knew the basics of first aid; everyone you worked with took the same introductory class before their first day. CPR, bandaging wounds, checking the airway… Somehow, you didn’t think the basics covered this level of injury.

But everyone else was outside.

It was up to you.

Plastic squealed under your legs as you shifted to kneel by his head. Foamy blobs dotted the mat where you’d sprayed, but there was enough clear space to position Ken without touching the harsh chemicals. A soft moan slipped through his lips as you moved him, despite your best efforts to keep him comfortable.

What now? What do I do next?

His raspy breathing didn’t bode well. Probably inhaled too much smoke, the idiot. You pursed your lips and scanned the room, blocking out the foul aroma as you searched for the familiar red cube present in every communal room of the facility. Maybe you’d get lucky, maybe it would have step-by-step instructions on how to treat a burn.

Since when has luck been on my side?

By the time you returned to Ken with the first aid kit in hand, soft grunts of agony accompanied his every exhale. The box opened with little complaint to reveal a hodge-podge of bandages and creams, gloves and tweezers and all manner of useless paraphernalia. How long had it been now? It must be close to the cutoff; someone must’ve noticed your absence by now.

Doesn’t matter. He can’t wait that long.

You glanced back at the poor man to find his eyes fluttering open. Whimpers of piteous suffering slipped from his cracked lips as he stared at you, panic taking over as the pain set in. No time to waste.

As if there ever is.

“Hey, hey! Ken, it’s gonna be okay!”

His desecrated arms rose as if to fend off an attack, held defensively between you and him. The huff of his breathing quickened into harsh pants, interrupted by a cough every few seconds. If he didn’t calm down, he risked going into shock. You ignored the alarm bells jangling in your head, the pounding of your heart and the dryness in your mouth. Emotions were useless in emergencies, compromising judgement and ruining rational thought in even the most well-trained individuals. Panic and fear were more dangerous than any weapon on the planet.

And Ken was succumbing to it, far too quickly. Tears leaked from his dilated eyes, his arms thrashing as he searched for an escape. You waited for an opening and seized his biceps, forcing his arms to still.

“N- no! Not you! Anyone but you!”

Why was he scared of you? After all the energy you invested in gaining his trust, what happened to the fragile bond you’d built?

This is not the time.

You leaned back, raising your hands into his view in a blatantly submissive pose and you held as still as you could while he calmed. His brows furrowed in a classic expression of confusion, his mouth gaping like a fish. What a waste of time; you still needed to find V.

“I’m here to help. I know it’s hard, but you need to try and stay calm.”

The same tone honed through years of dealing with your father forced its way through your lips. Placating, calm and reassuring. The voice of someone who meant no harm and only wanted to help. The tension on his face eased another fraction; you were on the right track.

But it was taking too long. How many rooms remained unchecked? Five? Ten?

Too many.

You lowered your hands and surreptitiously retrieved your phone. Time to call for backup. Screw protocol, you needed help. Damn Kotomi…

“Where the hell are you?!”

Aaron’s tinny voice answered after a single ring. You ignored the flare of terror on Ken’s face, if he was in his right mind, he’d be thanking you.

“I found Ken, he’s badly burned! I need you to send help.”

“God damnit! Is Mark with him? Where are you?”

You shuddered in revulsion at the realization of the nearby corpse’s identity. Poor Mark, he just got married. “In the gym. Mark is… he’s dead.”

“WHAT!?”

You flinched away from the speaker. A rapid stream of curses followed Aaron’s shocked cry, but dead was dead. Mark wasn’t your primary concern, or even your secondary. Tertiary, at best.

“Is anyone else still missing?”

This is already a catastrophe. If V got loose…

The thought didn’t bear dwelling on. It wasn’t in your control, none of it was. Even after years of education and hard work, you still weren’t holding the reins. Disaster still struck; people still died. Maybe you were wrong, maybe you couldn’t alter fate.

Maybe fighting destiny was a fool’s errand.

“No, got em all. Hang on a sec.”

His voice shouted orders, muffled as something covered the microphone. Your shoulders slumped in relief at his words. No other casualties, thank the damned stars. Assuming Ken made it, only one person paid the price today.

You could live with that.

“Right, I just sent in some EMT’s. Stay where- what the fuck?!”

“Aaron? What happened? What’s going on?”

Far-off screams echoed through the small speaker. A chill of foreboding toyed across your spine, teasing you with all manner of possible horrors. It wasn’t over.

---V---

He may as well have been a ghost, for all the attention he received. Not that he minded; the solitude allowed him to observe every second of wonderful chaos. The staff focused on others in more immediate need, comforting the criers and calming the panicked. What a delightful display of agony; each face inspired a slough of new ideas in his mind. The next group session couldn’t come fast enough.

Yet one especially tortured face stood out.

Kelly.

He resisted the urge to sneer at her blank expression, as if she simply lacked the capacity to acknowledge reality. Such docility disgusted him. Truly, the woman had no purpose. A wasted life, contributing nothing to society. A leech on severely limited resources. Undeserving of the air in her lungs.

You could fix that.

The artist’s lips twisted into a feral smirk, his emerald eyes glittering with glee. What a lovely idea… It had been so long since he indulged himself. Considering the situation, the risk was low. The closest staff member stood over a dozen steps away, struggling to reassure an incoherent young woman.

“Thank you, Vergil.”

He sidled closer to his target until less than a foot of empty air remained between them. She never shifted her eyes, didn’t bother to notice the predator closing in. His fingers itched as static bloomed in his nerves, the small hairs on his arms standing at attention. Some might call his plan a barbaric form of mercy.

He called it mastery.

“Yours is a cruel fate,” he began.

The merest twitch of her shoulders revealed her perception of him. He tracked the movements of the closest orderly, but the fool was still too far away to change anything. Goosebumps erupted on his skin, an anticipatory shiver running up his spine and rattling the loops of metal around his wrists. It’d been so long since he last saw that delightful crimson splash.

The artist licked his lips and continued, choosing his words with the utmost care. “I see your pain. It never gets lighter, does it?”

He paused, letting his seemingly sympathetic words sink in. No need to rush, not with the glaring incompetence of the staff. He could afford to savor the moment.

“The only peace you’ll ever find is in death. I know it. You know it. Even the doctors know it.”

Another pause as Kevin glanced their way, his attention divided between the artist and several others. Buffoon. Images of the man’s imminent death brought coils of heat to the artist’s gut. Long fingers twitched by his groin but a shouted word restrained him.

Focus!

Right. Kevin’s turn drew near, but today it was Kelly’s moment to shine.

“This might be the only chance you ever get,” he murmured, injecting every word with his own conviction and belief.

This may be my only chance, as well.

She jolted like she’d been electrocuted. Every change in her posture revealed his success; the slumping shoulders, the bowed head, the trembling legs. Any second now… the only question was how she’d do it.

Kelly’s mournful eyes met his, the normal weariness replaced by resigned acceptance. Her lips curled into a faint smile as she released a deep breath and surrendered.

“Thank you,” was all she said.

Then she crumpled to her knees and slammed her forehead into the pavement.

Shocked gasps echoed from mouths in the vicinity, but the effect was localized. Ripples of awareness would inevitably reach the staff, but not in time to change her fate. The artist smirked and edged away, blending into the bewildered crowd to enjoy the show. He was just a face in a crowd, a bystander to such madness. A fly on the wall.

The thought almost made him laugh.

Kelly lifted her bloody face and cracked it against the asphalt again. Stray droplets of crimson splattered those closest to her, staining their white clothing with beautiful crimson. The contrast was as awe-inspiring as ever, evoking ethereal voices to sing their rapture in his mind. He stepped further into the horde, barely maintaining his view as he neared the outer edge.

“Fuck!”

Kevin. He’d do his best, the fool always did, but nothing could stop Kelly now. She rose once more, grinning wider than ever before. It may have eased the ugliness of her face if not for the shattered teeth, broken nose and scarlet lips.

A final lunge. A sickening crunch, more cast off blood splattering the masses. A hint of grey mixed in as her body went limp, limbs twitching in the last throes of her tortured life just as Kevin skidded to her side.

Beautiful.

Horrified screams spoiled the solemn perfection. Perhaps it was for the best, otherwise someone would’ve heard the drawn-out groan vibrating from his lips. He could taste the coppery tang of blood, smell the moment her bowels released. His lids fluttered closed for a single heartbeat to revel in the pulsing joy radiating from his chest down to his cock.

“What the hell happened?” someone cried.

“Jesus…” another murmured.

Just to his left, someone lost their lunch and added another facet of visceral truth to the scene. Kevin’s meaty hands wrapped around Kelly’s shoulders and turned her faceup, revealing an image too grotesque to forget. Few among the horde knew what brain matter looked like before, yet now they all possessed the macabre knowledge.

Well done, Kelly. You had a purpose after all…

Still. If he’d been directly involved, the final view may have achieved magnificence. As it was, her corpse barely qualified as art. Crude, rushed and desperate. The act of a woman without hope.

But it was enough to bring a hum of satisfaction from his throat and a thrill of joy to his deranged soul.

Several staff members rushed toward the fresh corpse. Patients screamed and cried, lost in their own personal lunacy and delusions. Pandemonium and confusion reigned supreme over the crowd.

Weaklings. Now is the time.

A pulse of searing agony accompanied the rumbling voice’s words. He hissed and rubbed at his temples, instinctively trying to ease the pain. A powerful roar followed in its wake as Shadow expressed her displeasure, curses from Vergil and Griffon a beat behind. What new fiend was this, that so eloquently stated the truth?

“Who are you?” he murmured. It wouldn’t do to draw attention to himself now, not when he was so exposed.

I am Urizen, accursed vessel.

Foreboding laughter filled his mind as his blood turned to lava, boiling him alive. Stones pelted every inch of his skin and every nerve howled its suffering. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming, yet a muffled whimper slipped through.

And then, in a flash the torturous pain vanished.

For several seconds, V didn’t dare to move. His breath came in sharp pants, a sheen of sweat shimmering on his skin. There was something different about this newcomer, a form of strength he never imagined and was powerless to resist.

Not that he tried very hard.

Seize the opportunity you created. Let fear not guide your steps, but purpose.

The artist swallowed, twinges of pain still swirling through his muscles. He knew the voice was right, but what shreds of his conscience that remained screamed for him to stay. A strange thing; that side of him hadn’t made itself known in years. Why it spoke now, he didn’t understand.

No matter. Urizen was right. He must make his move now, before freedom danced from his grasp again. It was a shame you weren’t there with him, but he couldn’t waste the chance Ken so kindly provided.

He did not run; the less attention he drew, the more likely his success. The cuffs chafed at his bony wrists and he clutched the chain connecting them to keep it silent as the shadows of branches welcomed him home. For the first time in months, where he went and what he did was his choice to make.

I am free.

But I will return.

---Reader---

Malphas sat in the usual spot at the head of the conference table. Various staff flooded the room, far too many people for the number of seats available. As with most meetings, it was first come first serve so you ended up standing near the door. Not the most powerful position, but it made for a decent view.

“Okay, everyone. Let’s get started. Aaron?” Malphas began.

The head of security stood and sighed. The weight of responsibility colored his voice as he recapped the events of three days past, the ensuing manhunt and emergency medical treatments. By the time he was done, you couldn’t help but count the numerous faces staring at you with anger. It didn’t make any sense, it’s not like you told Ken to murder Mark and start a fire.

Yet somehow, your peers thought something along those lines.

Assholes.

“Two dead, one escaped and one injured... I don’t need to tell you all how bad this looks.”

Your eyes darted to Kotomi. Her catastrophic failure mystified you; it likely always would. To break down just when people were counting on you to stand tall and keep them safe was unforgivable. What might have happened had she held it together, you’d never know.

I can damn well guess.

You would’ve made it outside in time to keep an eye on V. He’d still be here and Kevin wouldn’t be blaming himself for the first escaped patient in over fifty years. Maybe Kelly would still be alive, too.

It would’ve changed everything.

“First off, we’re going to review our safety protocols in depth. This cannot happen again,” Malphas broke in.

He paused to meet every eye in the room, the authority of his bug-like gaze driving home how serious he was.

“Second, Dr. Ishida will no longer be involved with emergency procedures. Would anyone like to volunteer to take over her role?”

Kotomi bowed her head in shame, hiding behind her silken hair as a meager few hands rose.  You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her pathetic form. Why did she even work here? It clearly didn’t suit her skills or preferences. Curiosity tugged at you, but the time to ask her was long gone.

“Until the inquiry has been resolved, Dr. Waras will be suspended from any activities on site. Dr. Waras’ cases will be reassigned to Dr. Ishida for the time being.”

The hum of the ventilation system faded away as static fizzled in your mind. Someone shifted their weight, another coughed. This couldn’t be happening, you refused to believe it.

He can’t be serious!

You’d done everything right, followed protocol to the letter and taken on more than you were supposed to because Kotomi broke under pressure. What happened in the parking lot had nothing to do with you, and Ken never showed any inclinations toward wreaking havoc. How the hell were you taking the fall for this?

“Everyone, stay vigilant. If anything further is required of you, I’ll be in touch.”

As the staff filtered out the door, whispering and averting their eyes from you, pure rage battled for control within you. After all your hard work, all your dedication and sacrifice, they were taking it all away. It didn’t matter if you weren’t found at fault, this would follow you for the rest of your career. If only Kotomi wasn’t such a damned coward, if only she’d done her fucking job...

How could she do this to me? She could’ve said something to defend me, don’t I deserve that much after listening to her stupid stories?

Only Malphas and Aaron stayed behind. Kotomi shot a piteous look at you as she left, but you only glared back. Hurt flashed in her pretty eyes and a small flame of victory danced in your chest, but it didn’t matter.

You spoke the moment the door clicked shut. “You know this wasn’t my fault.”

“That remains to be determined,” Aaron replied coolly.

“But what about Kotomi? She was supposed to do half the floor but she left with the patients! She’s the one who failed, not me.”

Malphas pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He looked so old, like he’d aged a decade in the last few days. “Y/N, I’m sorry. Kelly’s family is demanding answers and there’s an uproar in legal. It was your patients who were involved, your patients who died and got injured. I know you did your best, but until I can prove it my hands are tied.”

Even through the sting of your embarrassed rage, you felt sorry for him. Being in charge at a time like this had to suck.

But still.

“Can’t you just stick me with the lower risk patients instead?”

Aaron snorted, crossing his thick arms derisively. “Not a chance. The press would have a field day, not to mention you’d get so bored you’d start the next fire.”

You pursed your lips. He had a point.

“The moment I have an alternative, you’ll know.”

Years of practice helped you stifle the urge to cry and lash out. Nothing good came from emotional outbursts, especially not in the workplace. You had to stay coolheaded and behave.

At the end of the day, the only thing in yourcontrol was yourself.

You took one last look at the flimsy conference table, the plain beige walls and inoffensive wall art. It was funny, even though the fire was on a different floor, you still smelled smoke and burning flesh. It permeated the stale recycled air like perfume, yet only you seemed to notice.

And blood, that metallic scent followed you everywhere. No matter how hard you scrubbed your skin, imagined ichor stained your hands. You couldn’t escape the fragmented reminders.

But to be cast out, like garbage?

Nothing is more foolish than to expect the world to treat you fairly.

The artist was unhinged, but maybe he had a point.

~~~~Next Chapter~~~~

[roger1na]

careful ch8 - john deacon x reader

summary: you are a ballet student at the royal ballet academy. To pay for your tuition, you work part-time at the celebrity gossip magazine, Seven. One fateful day you’re sent to interview a band on the rise, Queen, post-concert and fall in love with the sweetest man on the planet.

word count: 2k+

warnings: swearing, some sexual implications

author's note: yEehaw she's a little late. my adhd said fuck you and i couldn't focus on anything and also she's a little shorter than usual but honestly i had no material. however i rlly like the dialogue in this chapter. and also i think it's cute.

chapter eight

You smoothed over the red satin ribbon you had gently tied around the small blue box for the hundredth time. Your wristwatch ticked gently at the minutes going by as your taxicab sat in traffic. You wish you could've called him to say you were coming, you just might be late.

You'd stressed over a present, having no clue what John liked, really. Engineering and some disco tracks, photography and the like, but coming up with a present from all that was difficult. You were proud with what you had come up with, though.

Suddenly, the cab lurched forward and continued the route much faster than before and relief washed over you as the houses lining the street went into motion blur.

You hadn't been quite sure what to wear to your boyfriend's concert. Even that term was still up for debate. You hadn't said it aloud yet. You wondered what the fans would think. You had settled on a skirt and a Queen -hoodie, just to be supportive and to be wary of the rainy clouds gathering in the sky. You were determined to not freeze.

The venue itself was a rather small pub, especially packed with people. Some were already tipsy, even drunk, although it was early in the evening.

You slipped backstage, twisting grey hallways leading to a small backstage room with poor lighting next to the stage. Anxiety made you fret you'd gone to the wrong bar until you spotted the blonde curls of Roger.

He was turned around, hassling with his drum kit and you tapped his shoulder. He let out a small squeak and turned around fast but quickly relaxed when he realised it was only you.

"Ah you made it! Deaky's been fretting all evening."

You helped him up and smiled. "Yeah, traffic was just awful."

You tried having a polite conversation with him but your eyes kept flitting around looking for John and the rest of the band.

"Y/N?" Roger waved a thin-fingered hand over your eyes and you snapped out of your daze, feeling like you'd almost chewed through your lower lip.

"Wha-hm?" You managed to sputter.

"I asked you for your favourite Queen song, so we could add it to the program."

"Oh," you blushed sheepishly. "Sorry. I was just…"

"Looking for John?"

The blush deepened and you only managed a nod.

"He's sobering up, Freddie's holding his hair and Brian's mother henning him." Roger laughed.

"What? Is he okay?" Your eyes grew wide like saucers.

"Oh don't worry, we just gave him some champagne to loosen him up. Turns out we gave him too much. Combined with nerves he was a bit done for."

"Oh." You hummed.

"Seriously, Y/N. He's completely okay."

You went back to nibbling on your lower lip, not saying anything for a while. Roger leaned against the wall and took out a pack of Marlboro Reds which reminded you of Rose and calmed you down strangely. "My friend Rose smokes the same brand." You remarked quietly.

"Rose?" Roger's interest was piqued before you shook your hand.

"Nuh-uh, she doesn't swing that way."

"Ah, I see." He said, and then the slightly awkward silence came back, slightly heavier than before. You rubbed your arm and your hairs bristled.

Finally, he spoke up. "How come it took you two so long to, well, you know. Get together. You're practically jumping out of your skin to see him."

You looked at him slightly confused.

"I know we teased you on saturday but I know you didn't even kiss until the friday before the last," he continued.

"Hm."

"Great answer."

"I'm thinking!" You protested. "I suppose, it's always a challenge to be a woman. Especially as somebody whose identity is so strongly tied to my work. I mean, I don't really expect you to get it but I had to watch it. Make sure my relationship with John wouldn't eat me up."

"Yeah. I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it? Especially because he's a bit well known."

"Right! Do you see how magazines like The Sun or Seven write about women? We're accessories. That sort of sucks. I didn't want to get into somebody only to realise our lives didn't fit or something, and then I'd still have meddled too far for it to have no effect on my personal life." You hadn't expected to elicit such a clever response from Roger.

"I don't get it get it. But I understand. You had to make sure you had your footing on a sturdy ledge before you climbed."

"Exactly!"

"I'm glad you took the chance."

You smiled softly. A clamor of voices interrupted your conversation before you could answer.

"Brian, he's totally fine!" Came Freddie's slightly scratchy, posh, voice.

"He's turning green, Freddie." Brian insisted.

"Do I get a say? I'm okay." An east-England accentuated voice piped up.

The three men rounded the corner and you saw him, slightly pale, hair frizzed up and eyeliner ruined but still there. You locked eyes and his face split into a grin. Before you could stop yourself, you leapt into a sprint-half-jog across the room into his arms. It was clumsy, badly-orchestrated and he could barely stay upright as he caught your body in his arms and your lips in his.

"Well, hi, I'm definitely fine now."

"Hello, happy birthday!" You wished him, enjoying the warmth of his arms.

"Don't we get a hello, Y/N?" Freddie asked you as John slowly let you down.

"Hi, yes, hi," you fixed your hair before quickly giving Freddie and Brian their own slightly less intense hugs.

"We're so glad you made it," Freddie grinned. "I love what you're wearing." He added, slightly teasingly.

"Listen," you said, mock-sternly. "I had to pick something that matches the set!"

"And it's great," John took your hand, interrupting anymore comments. "Come, I'll show you the dressing room."

He lead you to a small room that was more of a supply closet.

The room measured maybe four metres by four, with graffitied band names and posters on the wall. A small table with uneven legs stood in the corner, with a bowl of bright red gummy bears on the edge.

"It's…" You paused looking for words.

"Dingy, I know," he laughed. "I'm sure we'll get better ones in November, actually."

"What's happening in November?"

"We're performing at the Rainbow again, like in march, but this time, with the new album."

"Oh that's fantastic," you grinned. "What's the new album called?" You asked.

"Sheer Heart Attack." He smiled proudly.

"Is it going to be scandalous? Will it have more than a dash of Deaky?"

"Absolutely, I wrote a whole song."

"You did? Will I get to hear it?"

Suddenly his cheeks sported a bright crimson and he shook his head. "It's silly."

"Oh come on!" You tugged at his arm slightly. "It'll be my new favourite."

"Oh, I don't think so. But Freddie's trying to get me to play it today."

"Ha, so I'll hear it anyway," you smile.

He was about to reply but Roger came to the door. "Deaks, we're starting in five, you should let Y/N to the bar." He'd lined his eyes with black kohl, probably matching with Freddie. John's was not as smudged or intense but it definitely brought their otherwise quite clashed look together as a band.

"Right then," you turned to him, smiling encouragingly. "Good luck. I'll be in the front row."

"Don't I get a good luck kiss?" He complained and you rolled your eyes, pecking his lips softly.

"Bye then."

You slipped from the dressing room and through a dimly lit hallway back to the main room, where there was loud chatter and drunken wailing.

You were brought back to the first time you'd met John. The loud people, the intenseness of the show, the participation of the crowd. It all seemed so familiar, when you elbowed your way to the front as they walked out, surrounded by cheers. John caught your eye and winked. A girl screamed in the crowd as the first notes were plucked out but you were too absorbed in the music you couldn't pay attention to anybody else.

They played various songs from their first and second album, including some of your favourites like Liar and Son and Daughter.

"Right, then," Freddie walked to the front, sweat glistening on his forehead, kohl even more smudged than intended.

"I'm glad it sounds like you're enjoying yourselves." The crowd cheered at his words and he smiled, a bit sheepish, a bit shy. "Thank you, we still have one last song for you. It's off our new album," he twirled the microphone cord in his hands. "And it's written by our very own bassist, mr. John Deacon!"

The crowd clapped and whistled and cheered loudly and John smiled to himself, leaning into his microphone. "It's an odd number, I'll give you that."

"Here is," Freddie paused for drama. "Misfire!"

A jazzy tune of guitars and bass and loud clear snares started up. The crowd was absolutely too hammered to hear the lyrics properly but you had to giggle. John caught your eye again and saw you laughing, looking away a bit bashful.

The song ended with a happy strum done by Brian and then the lights dimmed, they all bowed and it was over. You were still tingling all over from the basslines sliding over you to notice the crowd start to dissipate.

Backstage there was energy and bubble. Freddie had a cheap bottle of sparkling wine that he was trying to pop open. The cork shot out and hit the ceiling with a loud bang and the band cheered. Freddie raised his glass. "To John's birthday and first song," and tousled John's curls. You laced your fingers in his and smiled.

"Hey, I have a present for you," you whispered in his ear when the other boys had started squabbling goodnaturedly about something.

"You didn't have to," he told you, but he looked happy as you handed him the box.

The red satin ribbon came off with ease as he tugged at it gently, slightly nervous at what you had gotten him.

"It's a mixtape. And tickets to my next show for the entire band. But don't tell Freddie now, he'll lose his mind." You smiled, when he opened the box to a small cassette tape. The plastic case rattled slightly when he took it from the box and turned it to try and see a setlist. Instead of a list of songs, it was the polaroid of you two, grinning stupidly into the camera on a thunderous saturday afternoon.

"How will I know what song's coming up?" His smile was hesitant.

"Well, uh, I thought it was sweeter with the polaroid. Also I kind of forgot what songs I put in there."

"Wow."

"And I know it's not much but-"

"No, no it's great," he smiled and while you had turned away flustered he wiped one eye quickly. Freddie caught his eye and grinned mischievously as if all this was somehow his doing.

"Alright, alright then, it is John's birthday, so it is only appropriate we go get properly wasted," Freddie interrupted the moment and raised his glass. "To Shelley's!"

Shelley's was a pub Queen frequented often, whether it was performing or chatting with the aggressive but kind hearted matron. You spun around on the barstool as John ordered some strangely named Shelley's exclusive cocktails which always tasted familiar but they weren't your average Bloody Mary's.

He brought two glasses of a bright green drink, which tasted like artificial watermelon, and if you were honest, it was kind of shitty. But you were enjoying yourself.

The radio blared some old songs, couples danced to slow songs and groups of girls rocked out to the fast paced disco songs. You were taking it in, reporter eyes absorbing every detail when John took your hand.

"Did you have fun tonight?" He whispered.

"The best time. Happy birthday again. I loved the new song." You smirked a little bit.

"Well… It is pretty funny. Like you said I should make it."

"Is it truthful?" You challenged, alcohol making your filter nonexistent.

"What? Of course not!"

"Prove it."

***

taglist: @fourmisfits @deakysgirl @im-happy-at-home @obsessedwithrogertaylor @itsametaphorbriansblog @rhapso-kei @deacontaylormaymercury @queenmylovely @imgonnabeyourslave @weirdestmentalityphilosopher @thefatbottomedmay @heyyyyyyyleykiyoko @brujademente @marvellouslynerdy @sunflower-borhap-boys

[gold-from-straw]

Enough - ch8/9

Charles wakes up after his night with Erik and very quickly convinces himself that he can’t possibly be that lucky. He must have done something wrong and scared Erik off. Triggers for very low self-esteem, implied depression, nosebleeds and panic attacks. Also the faintest whiff of citrus from the previous chapter. You never know with this puritanical website. The s word in the first line might be just too lemony to cope with...

Read from the start on AO3 if you prefer!

Charles moved against the warm sheets, unwilling to emerge from the sweetest dreams of his entire life. He was overheated and tangled and holy shit he’d had sex last night!

His eyes snapped open, a broad grin spreading across his face as he remembered… holy shit… he felt his face heating up as the memories hit, and squirmed, pressing his face into the pillows, feeling the ache in his muscles and his arse. It was all too much, and he wanted to scream in delight.

But it really was all too much, wasn’t it? He frowned and sent out cautious tendrils of thought, searching for Erik, but the flat was empty. He rubbed his face, remembered Erik accepting him, telling him he wanted everything. But wait, no, that wasn’t it, was it? Erik had limits, they’d talked about them… had Charles somehow messed with his boundaries without realising it? Maybe as he slept?

He shook his head and climbed out of bed. This was ridiculous. He wasn’t going to jump to conclusions, surely Erik had just popped out for milk. He stretched and winced, and decided to take a shower, that would do him the world of good. He smiled as he remembered falling asleep curled in Erik’s arms, still sticky and buzzing from the best sex of his entire life. He felt the warmth spread through his chest. Surely this time it was different. It had already been so different, this time he’d be good enough for someone.

But when Charles came out of the shower, tousling his hair dry on a towel he’d found in the closet, there was still no sign of Erik. He bit his lip and pulled yesterday’s clothes back on, wincing at the missing button on his shirt. It would have to do… but should he wait? Had he missed something? He sat down on the edge of the bed and checked his phone, but the only message was from Hank, sending him a meeting date with some investors. He stared at the carpet and tried to work out what he should do – he was never any good at knowing what people wanted from him unless they were right in front of him, he knew he leaned too much on his telepathy in that way, but he found it so difficult to turn all of it off… and he knew it was terribly unethical and manipulative to have that extra advantage, knowing what people thought of him all the time and what they wanted… but it was like trying to ignore someone shouting at you without being able to put your hands over your ears.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a pressure headache starting up. What had he done to ruin it this time? He thought things had been going so well, Erik had encouraged him into his mind, even, he’d been so accepting of him… he thought it was… he thought he’d been OK, but now… Erik must have changed his mind.

And with that, everything clicked into place. Charles felt cold, sticky defeat pouring over his thoughts, turning everything onto silent, turning away all the joy and the excitement, but really, this was how it always went.

He stared at the floor for a while. He didn’t even think he was breaking. That was fine. That was better than he’d expected. He’d thought last night that if Erik rejected him that he’d shatter into a million pieces but actually he just felt… flat.

Maybe it was time to stop trying. This was just silly, because he knew he wouldn’t actually ever be good enough for someone, not all the ugly depths of him and his power. He should really stop trying to convince people he was in any way suitable for a relationship, he was a good teacher, that was enough. He could be useful, it was fine. Was it really necessary to be loved as well? It sounded a bit overrated, really.

The slick darkness pouring itself over his mind made him feel tired. He started reeling in the tendrils of thought that he’d sent out to look for Erik, started closing his mind down piece by piece. It hurt, but maybe it hurt less than it had when Raven told him to stay out? He wasn’t sure. He slowly picked up all his scattered bits and bobs, his phone, his socks, his tie. He should probably leave before Erik came back, he was probably waiting for him to leave before he could have his flat and his privacy back. He sniffed as he stood up, he wasn’t sure why. It’s not like there was anything upsetting. He rubbed his forehead and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

The front door burst open, making him jump, heart thumping madly. It’d been so long since he tucked his telepathy away, he could always hear people coming closer – but this was probably fairer.

And he didn’t want to hear Erik’s thoughts, not this morning, not when he wanted him to leave, not when he couldn’t bear—

He swallowed hard and looked up. “Erik, I’m—”

“Good morning, Charles,” Erik said with a grin, bouncing in wearing a sweat-soaked shirt and joggers. “Did you get my note? I’m sorry I was so late, schatz, I wanted to take the subway home but the bloody line was shut, I…” he stopped and frowned at him. “Are you OK?”

Charles blinked at him. He was here, and he didn’t seem to want Charles to leave, and he didn’t… he squashed down the things he wanted because he always got upset when people pulled back, he knew it was terribly clingy and unhealthy. He closed himself off and waited, and Christ, his head hurt.

Erik walked over to him, standing so close, all he wanted to do was to reach out and touch him but he was sure that wouldn’t be allowed any more, there was no way...

“Charles, what’s the matter?” Erik asked, frowning, surely that wasn’t good, he should try to work out why Erik was frowning then maybe he’d – but it was too late, it was always too late, because Charles was such a fucking freak he couldn’t make anything work, he was too much.

Erik held his arm, just above the elbow, and he almost gasped at the contact, he couldn’t think straight, he just needed to cover everything in his mind with that black syrup, cover everything so it didn’t hurt any more. “Hey… are you OK? I can’t feel you… you’ve been in my mind all night, all morning and now—”

Charles looked up in horror, his forced peace shattering. “I was in your mind? I’m so sorry, Erik, I had no idea, I didn’t think, oh God, I should have—”

“Hey, hey, why are you upset about this again? I thought I told you last night, I want you there.”

“But you… you’re OK… you still… last night, I thought… this morning when you weren’t here, and…”

“You did… find my note, didn’t you?” Erik gestured with his thumb to the fridge. “I figured you’d get up and get some tea at least.”

“I… I…” Charles blinked fast, trying to compute, after he’d convinced himself, tried to shield himself and now… he felt a pop in his head, right at the front of his mind and

“Oh, wow, that’s a lot of blood, shit, wait here…”

“Oh my God… Oh my God I’m so, so sorry, Erik, I just…” he slapped his hand over his face, the warm blood trickling down his palm and wrists, and there were spots on the floor, on his carpet and shit. “Oh my God…” he stumbled back, trying to get off the carpet but it was fitted, all the way to the wall. He looked around wildly, and blood splattered in little drips all over the grey wool and it was so much and Erik was going to hate him, he surely already hated him, he couldn’t possibly like him not after all this not after “I’m so sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” he cried.

“Charles! Charles, darling, what’s the matter?” Erik asked, and wrapped his arms around him, blood and tears and all. He held a cloth up to Charles’ face and gathered him close and Charles couldn’t be strong any more, he couldn’t hold himself back when this kind of affection and comfort was being offered. He pressed himself closer, his body shaking as he tried to hold back the sobs, and failed.

“Please tell me what it is, love?” Erik said, stroking his hair back, rocking him. “Can you show me?” He tapped two fingers lightly on Charles’ temple, and Charles shook his head violently.

“You’ll leave… you’ll be disgusted you’ll hate me you’ll leave I’m so sorry, please, I know I’m terrible, I know I’m… I’m so pathetic and clingy and I’m so so sorry, please don’t h-hate me please, p-“

“OK, OK, shh, shh.” Erik ran his fingers through Charles’ hair again and again, pressing him close once more, kissing him on the head, and Charles had never felt this, never been this cared for in his life… he’d never allowed himself to fall apart, not since he had better control than a small child, and he didn’t know, he’d never known this was a possibility, and if he had it would have destroyed him. It would still destroy him, to know this was an option, if he scared Erik away and never got to have it again, and that wasn’t right, that was so unhealthy, and all because Charles could never have enough, he was so selfish, he always just wanted more and more from people! Why couldn’t he just be satisfied with what he had? He was always grasping and grabbing and wanting to take more and more and it was too much, it had always been too much, for Dan, and his family and everyone and there was no way Erik could possibly be different no matter how much he told himself he was, how could he be?

At last he wrestled back some control, just a little, and found himself still wrapped in Erik’s arms, his fingers gripping his shirt so tight they ached, his face a mess of blood and snot and ugh, how Erik could even stand to be near him. “I’m so terribly sorry,” he said, but it came out as a hoarse whisper.

Erik just brushed his hair out of his face and smiled down at him. “There’s no need to be sorry,” he said. “Would you like to talk?”

Charles didn’t know what to say. It had been a long time since anyone expected him to need anything like that. Telepaths didn’t need stuff like that, they were meant to know everything, they were meant to sort everyone else’s shit out.

“You know, I can always tell when Emma’s having a bad day,” said Erik at last, still combing his fingers through his hair. Charles wanted to close his eyes and press against him with that gentle touch. “Your mind feels different to hers, she doesn’t… hide quite so well as you do. I think if I wasn’t so used to working alongside her I wouldn’t be able to tell with you at all but… I can tell you’re shielding. There’s this… emptiness around you? I don’t know how to explain it. Like you usually take up more space, and now, you’ve shrunk, I suppose is the word.”

Charles stared up at him. “I was… I was trying to keep it close… keep it tucked away.”

“Why?” he asked softly, cupping Charles’ cheeks. “Will you not tell me what happened? Was it too much, last night? Are you… are you having second—”

“No! No, please, I’m not, I don’t want to—it was… it was so much, it was incredible, I’ve never—”

“OK, OK, it’s fine. Breathe, love.” He cuddled him closer and kissed him on the temple and Charles didn’t know whether to melt into him or cry in confusion, push him away and save himself from this uncharted territory, cover his mind in the black and dull every sense to nothing so it stopped hurting all the time. He hadn’t realised how much it hurt until he felt this affection and acceptance and he didn’t know what to do about it, everything just—

“It hurts,” he blurted, and pressed his face to Erik’s chest in shame, swallowing down the sobs that wanted to wrench themselves from his throat. “It hurts, and I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t know how to keep this, keep you and I can’t handle it, I don’t know… I don’t know…”

Erik never stopped kissing him, or touching him, stroking his hand over his back and his face and his neck, and it was so good it ached, every muscle arching towards him and terrified to show what he wanted, to show this vulnerability because he always wanted too much. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t even hear what Erik was saying any more, his head throbbing, aching, burning, until suddenly, it all went black.

***

He woke in a darkened room, a warm body beneath him, a steady heartbeat and the gradual rise and fall of breathing. He blinked and shifted, and immediately arms wrapped around him, knees came up beside his hips, and he found himself surrounded entirely in Erik’s limbs, held close, cocooned in affection and he wanted to keep dreaming like this forever.

“You’re not dreaming,” said Erik, his voice rough. Charles looked up, shocked to see Erik’s face, his eyes red rimmed and tear stained. “I saw,” he said, brushing hair out Charles’ eyes. “I, uh… your memories. I saw them. I think you were having a panic attack or something, and suddenly you went from zero to sixty and it was like… being buried in your memories.”

“Oh God, Erik, I’m so sorry… are you OK?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m just…” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Not sure whether to kiss you or adopt you, which is a situation I never thought I’d be in, honestly.”

Charles frowned and cocked his head.

Erik took a deep breath and shifted, guiding Charles’ head back down to his chest. “My father died when I was young,” he said. “About fifteen. I saw… they beat him. The war was long over but hatred will always remain.” He shook his head in grief and fury. “He survived the ghettos only to succumb to bastards half his age who…” He trailed off and Charles pressed his face to his chest, covering him in comfort like a blanket. Erik smiled. “I can feel that, you know,” he said. “In my mind. Thank you for not trying to make it go away.”

“I can’t take that from you,” he replied, his voice muffled by Erik’s shirt. “Your anger and grief are entirely justified.”

He combed his fingers through Charles’ hair, and Charles could feel his affection bubbling around them. “I was lucky, though,” he said, and as he spoke, Charles started to see the memories, shared carefully and deliberately, rather than pushing them haphazardly towards him like he was used to. “Had it been a couple of decades ago, the men would have been soldiers and we’d have been nothing but rats to them,” he spat. “But there are enough people who are deeply ashamed of our country’s past… a group of college students saw us, and intervened. They fought the scum back, one of them… one was even a mutant, like me.”

He stopped speaking, the words unable to pass any more, and Charles saw the flashes of grief and fury, but also saw the police taking the bastards away, the paramedics who tried to save his father, the red-skinned man who teleported a distraught Erik away to his mother when his out-of-control mutation was threatening to damage the medical equipment. He saw a long, publicised court case and a thin, grief-lined woman clutching Erik’s hand as they sat in smart clothes to watch the men sentenced.

Charles wrapped his arms around Erik’s waist and wished he had never experienced this pain, wished he could make it all go away.

“I wouldn’t want you to,” said Erik. “To take my pain is to take my desire for justice. If there had been no justice for my family back then, who knows what kind of man I would have been. I don’t think I could have stopped until every one of those men had paid.” Charles felt the arcs of his power swirl in impassioned eddies around the room, making the pipes in the wall moan and the metal fixtures shudder before Erik took a deep breath. “But I didn’t tell you my story to get your sympathy, I told it… well, for two reasons. Firstly because I want us to be on equal footing – I saw your past by accident, it seems only fair to show you mine. And secondly because I want you to see that it’s OK. You have no reason to be ashamed of your past.”

Charles looked up at him, confused. Erik just smiled. “I mean… what happened with your family… with your other lovers? I wish it had never happened to you. But I can’t take it away any more than you can take my father’s death away. What I can do, instead, is to prove that you are enough – you’re more than enough. You’re worth all the care and affection and attention you want so much. You’re…” he took a deep breath. “I think… I might love you…”

Charles froze, every mote of dust crystallising as he stuttered over the thought, as he tried to remember the last time someone had said that to him… Dan had said it as a casual response to his own heart-pounding declaration, so easy for Dan to smile and say the words that meant everything to Charles without even a flicker in his mind. And here was Erik, his entire body and mind vibrating with tension as he gave him this gift, handed him his own heart, every thought waiting to hear how it would be received. Charles looked up, leant over and kissed him, deep and slow and wet because he was fucking crying again, how pathetic!

Erik laughed and rolled him over, pulling back and wiping the tears away with his thumb. “You’re not pathetic, Charles,” he grinned.

“I… I do to, I love you… I thought… I thought you wouldn’t want to know but I do…”

Erik laughed again, bright and joyous, and kissed him on the forehead. He pulled away again and his smile softened. “And to think I thought you were so suave and eloquent when I first met you.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Honestly, how anyone ever thinks these things about me. I’m a disaster.”

Erik kissed his cheek, his lips, his nose. “Mmmm. You’re my disaster.”