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jkfanfr · 1 year

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Vegas and Pete FF- KinnPorsche The Series (BL)

Another VegasXPete fanfic as i cannot get enough of them recently. Their connection was off the roof in the series and it’s made me watch it over and over again.

Disclaimer: I mean no disrespect to actual actors, this is pure fantasy for the series characters 🤍

Requests open, and have fun reading my lovelies

SMUT CONTENT WARNING ;)

SOME MATURE LANGUAGE USED

SIGNITURE LINE AHEAD 🤭 Let me know if you can find it

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Vegas took his seat at the booth, right in front of Kinn and Porsche, who were holding hands under the table, as if no one could see them doing so. Kinn raised his eyebrow at Vegas, who was giving his signature smirk at the stage beside them.

Pete gulped hard as he stepped onto the stage, smiling nervously at the same time. The big lights were off, making the whole place dark as he took his spot in the middle of the stage.

Though he was a famous idol, with many fans screaming his name, awed at the sight of his handsome self, begging to take a peek underneath his already revealing clothes, Pete was an anxious one. He was worried about what people thought and every time he stepped on stage, his little frights of his own power and ability come in to play at the same time, taking his through a never ending cycle of worrisomeness.

Pete finally made eye contact with Vegas, who had a sweet smile sprouting on his face. Though they were in close proximity, it felt they were so far away from each other. Pete just wanted to run into his arms, as they hug and kiss endlessly with the same bliss, passion and love as the first time.

Back-up dancers took the stage, assuring him that he’ll be ok. They’re very supportive with Pete’s stage fright, helping him and always by his side when they ever need him. Pete felt safer once they were around, they weren’t just back-up dancers, they were friends, best friends.

Pete sighed softly, standing in the middle of the stage in his starting pose, looking at Vegas one last time before the lights slowly started turning on. He was singing a cover of ‘Love Talk’ by WayV, which he had been working on for a while. (stan wayv btw) The lyrics really hint at specific something, which Pete typically liked (horny ass b-)

He felt the lights turn on quicker, signalling him to start off. Pete moved swiftly to the music, his voice angelic and deep as he kept a nervous smile on his face, which soon turned more confident and teasing.

i can hear it callin

loving the way you wanna talk

touch me tease me feel me up

As Pete danced the night away, Vegas couldn’t help but admire his beautiful boy, how innocent but sexy he looked. Pete was effortlessly winning everyone’s hearts.

you got me sayin you got me sayin

how you doin tell me what’s your name

what’s your sign

feeling like your into me

yeah waiting for you

i just want you to come over where i’m stayin

He heard so many awed whispers and saw many people giggling and filming him. It was completely normal to Pete, but to Vegas, it got his blood boiling

fallin for a stranger good gracious

i might even fly out to Vegas

thinking maybe you’d be down to do it

but you don’t know what i’m sayin

Even watching Kinn smile at his moves, Porsche screaming the loudest for his best friend, made Vegas feel jealousy crawl up his skin.

got me goin through the roof

really don’t care what we do

we could fly to the moon

i can see your lips movin but we ain’t got a clue

Pete kept his sweet but teasing look in his face, making Vegas sweat in his chair. He shifted around a lot, unable to feel comfortable. His jealousy and possessiveness was getting to him.

baby we’re two distant strangers

i know you don’t speak my language

but i love the way you’re talking to me..

Even the way Pete said ‘baby’ made Vegas wanna call him over and take him to where they’re staying

i can hear it callin

from where you are

loving the way you wanna talk

touch me tease me feel me up

Pete smirked at Vegas’ reaction to him, making him gulp hard, bottling up all his jealous and angry emotions just so he doesn’t cause a scene. He was very possessive when it came to Pete, Vegas wanted him all for his own. He didn’t want everyone enjoying what he called his, but as expected, Vegas had no choice but to comply with Pete and his job. He supported Pete a lot when it came to it.

call me when it’s after dark

something in the way you wanna talk

touch me tease me feel me up

Pete was beyond hot when he was dancing, how perfectly swift and talented he was made Vegas all giddy on the inside. He had a problem down in his trousers, biting his lip to control his body which was acting differently to his mind. Vegas’ body was desperate for Pete, wanting to run on stage and pull him into his arms, while his mind was urging him to sit still in his seat.

He didn’t want Kinn and Porsche to notice him either, so he had no choice but to act like a dog and not move and inch.

Porsche- “Wow!! My best friend is awesome! Go Pete!”

Kinn- “He’s very good, don’t you think so Vegas?”

Vegas was in his own world at this moment, admiring Pete with jealousy overflowing in his eyes, which were deepening in red.

Porsche- “Vegas..?”

Kinn tapped his hand, making Vegas look around aimlessly as if he doesn’t know anything.

Vegas- “Yeah..? What happened?”

Porsche- “Kinn asked if you think Pete is good?”

Vegas- “My boy is more than good..”

Vegas responded back, adoring Pete once more with his eyes, licking his bottom lip as he gave his signature smirk to Pete. Kinn and Porsche laughed softly at Vegas’ response.

Though Vegas was enjoying it all, something immediately caught his attention. Pete ripped half of his shirt, exposing his defined and toned abs, which Vegas wouldn’t of expected.

Porsche- “Ooh!! Pete is so saucy, damn”

Porsche let out a breath before laughing with Kinn once more, they both were watching Pete, having fun watching him perform. It was obvious Pete was very confident at this moment, as his thrusted his hips forward, grinning a little as he did so. The crowd got even wider as Vegas’ mouth hung open, unable to let out any words.

Kinn- “Woah!”

Porsche- “Pete is really taking his chances”

Kinn- “Very seriously”

Pete smirked as he met eye contact with Vegas, as Vegas was still stunned. Did he do this to get on Vegas’ nerves? Cause god it was working well, as he looked around the audience with even more envy in his eyes. You could call him a green-eyes monster.

Vegas- “Fuck, you’re killing me babe..”

Vegas whispered to himself in a soft and quiet tone, feeling a lump in his throat. As he kept his eyes on Pete, he sipped on his water, basically finishing 3 cups just to maintain his composure.

Pete- “I know you all like it”

Pete talked in a monotone voice, no melody, no rhythm either as he thrusted again. Vegas nearly spat out his water, as his eyes widened at Pete. Many people were screaming louder, their phones on the fly as they all awed at Pete’s moves.

How deep Pete’s voice was once he said that, his teasing and playful expression on his face. God it made Vegas melt in his chair

Vegas- “You better watch we get home Pete.”

He whispered quietly to himself, as he bit his own cheek, leaning forward just to see Pete even more.

Porsche- “Man, he’s really making him angry babe.. Pete is in for a wild night”

Porsche whispered to Kinn, making them look at each other. Porsche felt a little worried for Pete’s safety after this, mainly for his legs.

Kinn- “I can agree on that love, Pete better watch his steps tonight. And i don’t know about you, but i find his jealousy highly entertaining”

Kinn let out a louder laugh, Porsche playfully punching his shoulder

Porsche- “Kinn stop that!”

Porsche couldn’t help but laugh as well. The green eyed monster was doing his job very well, and they even grinned at each other, knowing Pete was in for a treat.

oh tell me babe, tell me how you like it babe

i don’t even know your name

i love the way you’re talking to me..

Pete ended his performance, sweating his life away, but satisfied with his work. On the other hand, Vegas was in war with his own mind and body. He looked at Kinn and Porsche who were clapping with the rest of the audience.

It took a lot of work for Vegas to not go and question Pete, or even ruin him deliriously, for that hot and sweaty performance. He wanted Pete all for himself at times like this.

Kinn- “Uhh..Vegas..?”

Vegas- “What is it Kinn?!”

Vegas talked in a stern and serious tone, the green eyed monster taking an effect on everyone around him. Kinn and Porsche already got their answers from Vegas’ reaction.

They knew Vegas was a bit possessive when it came to Pete. He loved him deeply, he was too scared to lose someone so important to him. His past lover did so, and left Vegas alone till he met Pete, who made his life liveable. No one talks about Vegas’ past lover, they have nothing to do with his or anyone else’s mind anymore. Both Kinn and Porsche knew Vegas was scared he’d lose Pete to one of those fans, which is why he was so protective of him. He didn’t wanna loose the most important person to him. He couldn’t.

Porsche- “Calm down Vegas, what’s wrong?”

Vegas- “Nothing is wrong Porsche”

Kinn- “There is Vegas, just tell us”

Vegas- “I’ll tell him instead”

Vegas pointed at Pete who was now going off stage. Little did Vegas know, Pete knew just how he was. He knew Vegas would be struggling with his jealousy.

Vegas scratched the back of his nape, standing up from his seat. He walked down heaps of stairs making his way towards Pete, who seemed to be making twists and turns around there corridors. It seemed he was trying to run away from Vegas’s might

Pete seemed to know what was coming, and what’s the harm of a good ol’ chase hmm?

Vegas- “Pete. I see you”

Pete heard Vegas’ voice as he seemed to get closer, as he was swerving past many people just to get by. Vegas was so close to pulling him into his embrace. Just when too many people got in the way, causing him too lose Pete in the crowd of make-up artists.

They were opposite of each other, looking at one another from the sides of the crowd. Pete smirked at Vegas, sticking his tongue out.

Pete- “Come get me then”

Pete replied back to his words in a louder tone, as Vegas laughed softly, pulling out one of his signature smirks.

Vegas- “Just you wait babyboy, daddy’s coming..”

Pete started running away, escaping the crowd and Vegas too, well..as it seemed to be. As Pete turned the corner, he was met with a tall, well-built chest, shirt unbuttoned a little. He knew what he collided with instantly.

Vegas- “Seems you came to me instead baby..”

Pete- “Im getting changed, wait”

Pete tried to escape, but Vegas pulled him back towards him, now both of their chest colliding. Vegas looked down at Pete’s ripped shirt, and smirked once more

Vegas- “You won’t be getting changed anymore love”

Pete- “Im sweaty hun, i need to change”

Vegas- “Don’t make excuses to run away from me. You know what you were doing on that stage”

Pete- “What was i doing?”

Pete asked so innocently, it made Vegas wanna pin him to the wall and explain it through actions. Vegas kept his cool, looking at Pete with the same smirk as always.

Vegas- “I don’t care what you were doing anymore. Just know that.. i will consume you.”

Vegas stepped closer to Pete, making their thighs touch. Pete gulped hard, looking at Vegas with playfulness but a bit of worry for his sanity.

Pete- “Im never listening to Porsche’s ideas ever again..”

Vegas- “What was that love?”

Pete- “Nothing”

Seems like Porsche decided to pickpocket an idea from his mind and innocently hand it over to Pete.

Vegas- “Are you ready?”

Pete- “For what?”

Pete looked at him all confused, like he didn’t hear Vegas’ words from before.

Vegas- “You’re in for a treat babyboy, come with me”

Pete- “But i’m not ready to leave-“

Vegas- “Ah ah ah..”

Vegas put his finger on Pete’s lips, settling him down and keeping him quiet

Vegas- “You caused this, so you’ll fix it for me right?”

He asked, looking down at the bulge in his trousers, Pete followed his eyes looking down as well. His eyes widened slightly, as he then stood back.

Pete- “No!”

Pete declined instantly, his face delicately flushed with flowery pink. His sweet vanilla aroma flourishing their close proximity. His shirt ripped in half still, his abs dripping in deep but salty looking sweat, making Vegas bite his lips to control the urge to lick it all off.

Vegas- “You’re coming with me”

And with that, Pete was dragged through back stage, apologising to anyone he runs into by accident. His hand was held tight, locked with super glue as Vegas’ horny and jealous mood was really showing. Pete wanted to laugh so hard, but he knew it wouldn’t end how he wanted to if he did that.

Pete- “Vegas calm down”

Vegas- “How about no?”

He replied in a strict and monotone voice, making Pete chuckle softly. Vegas heard him and looked at him for a second

Vegas- “What are you laughing at hun?”

Pete- “Nothing”

Pete tried to hold in his laughter, but couldn’t. Looking at Pete laugh, his cute and beautiful smile as his teeth showed. Pete looked like a little bunny, and that thought made Vegas smile himself. He’d kill to see his smile all day, his happy and sweet boy.

And although Vegas was getting manipulated by Pete’s smile, he continued to take his little rascal to their car. He threw him in the backseat, crawling on top of him immediately. No time was to be wasted.

Pete- “Vegas? Are you sure you want to do this here?”

Pete asked a little nervous, though he wanted Vegas to wreck him badly, take away his sanity as he begs for mercy underneath him. All that was getting him riled up, his trousers feeling tighter against his skin.

Vegas started playing with his ripped shirt, unbuttoning the leftover buttons slowly just to tease Pete.

Vegas- “I’ll do you whenever i please baby”

Pete- “Thats not how it works love”

Pete laughed softly, making Vegas’ eyebrows raise at his confidence.

Vegas- “I don’t need to question you about it, i know you’d agree straight away”

That made Pete gulp hard, pulling Vegas close to him. Pete made the first move, shoving his lips onto Vegas’, moving passionately and harshly against his lips. Pete’s lips were plump and sweet, as Vegas’ honey lips tried its hardest to devour every inch of them.

Vegas- “Fuck-the things you make me wanna do..”

Vegas muttered under his breath, his tone being as deep as ever, his signature smirk plastered across his face. Pete’s lips curved into a smile, getting pulled closer by Vegas. Their chests collided straight away, as Vegas looked around the car. He was searching for something, as Pete stayed still, laying down like a good boy.

Vegas- “Oh fucking hell..there’s none in the car..we have to go home..get in the front seat”

Pete did as he was told, quickly getting up and climbing into the front seat, Vegas hastily getting into the one next to him and revving up the engine.

Time Skip-

Vegas grabbed a condom, opening the packet as Pete did the honours of undoing his belt and trousers. They quickly undressed, excited for what’s to come, both falling on the bed.

Vegas- “Your body is beautiful baby..no wonder they all want it”

Vegas curses at himself for basically allowing those fans to admire his boy. He loved Pete’s curves, how smooth and warm they felt in his palms.

Pete- “But only one person can have it”

Vegas suddenly smirked, looking at him with interest again. His fingers twirled around in his soft and silky hair, he other free hand stroking his already hard cock

Vegas- “And who’s that?”

Pete- “Vegas Theerapanyakul”

Vegas- “You tease”

Vegas replied with his eyebrows raised, as Pete suddenly flipped him over, climbing onto his crotch and settling on top of his hard cock. Vegas looked at his boy seductively, his hands caressing his waist. Vegas bucked his hips and pushed upwards just to play with Pete, who groaned softly at the hard hit.

Pete- “Stop that Vegas”

Pete looked at his seriously but playfully, as Vegas laughed in a deep tone.

Vegas- “Why? Aren’t these games fun to you?”

Vegas pushed upwards again, Pete bouncing slightly as his groans became louder. Vegas continued to do his sinful actions, making Pete impatient.

Pete stopped him in his tracks, holding his shoulders down to the bed

Pete- “I said stop Vegas”

He said with a slight chuckle, as he grabbed Vegas’ cock, and shoved it up himself, making himself moan loudly. Vegas stared at him in shock, mouth open in the shape of an ‘O’.

Though Pete was struggling to help himself, Vegas was still stuck in the middle. Either to watch Pete enjoy his own cock, or to pound into him like a wild beast. Vegas loved his naughty boy when he wanted him so badly.

Vegas- “You’re one of a kind love, i’ve never seen anything like it..”

Pete- “You couldn’t seen anything like it before, i was the first one to offer you an ass”

Pete talks in a flirtatious tone, his fingers grazing Vegas’ chin sedulously. Vegas’ eyes fixated on Pete, unable to break their eye-contact.

Vegas- “But..you came to me first, it’s not my fault you couldn’t wait for it”

Vegas fights back with a credulous tone, his eyebrows raised slightly as he thrusts his hips up. Pete moaned softly at the short pleasure he experienced. But that was just the start of the ride.

Pete- “Don’t you mean, you couldn’t wait for it?”

Vegas- “Wait for what?”

Pete- “Me”

Vegas- “You’re such a fuckboy”

Pete- “What a nickname…”

Pete smirked as he started to bounce on Vegas’ crotch, his cock going in and out of his ass. His prostate was taking all that pain and pleasure, well..moreover that pain which he called pleasure. Pete began to moan louder and louder, taking Vegas’ hard length well, like he always does.

Vegas started to help him, the hot pleasure becoming overwhelming already. Their bodies started to become sweaty and warm, the sound of their skin slapping against each other mixed with their loud moans and graphic actions were so entertaining to watch and hear.

Vegas- “Fuck babe, c’mon, faster for me”

Pete bounced faster and harder, getting tired from the quick pace but not of the undeniable and sensual satisfaction of Vegas’ cock smashing into him.

Vegas- “You know how to do me babe. Be a slut and work for what you want”

Pete was obsessed with Vegas’ dirty sex talk, as it was such a bliss he enjoyed. He loved hearing it loud and clear, complying to whatever he says. He knew he was a slut for Vegas, one which he himself liked the taste of.

Pete- “Augh..~ I..It’s so good, more, more love”

Vegas continuously thrusted into Pete, hearing his heavenly moans in his ear was just what he desired. Vegas’ lips were all over Pete’s neck, tasting and devouring every inch he could get. Pete deliriously bounced upon him, unable to stop himself from letting out his moans.

Pete- “Im..i’m close Vegas, please!”

Vegas didn’t stop, suiting his boyfriend’s needs just how he liked it. Vegas recklessly thrusted into Pete, taking his time to view how much he appreciated his boy. Pete opened his eyes for the first time, looking at Vegas with content and love. They kissed a little as they both came upon each other.

It wasn’t just lust between the two of them, it was infatuation and deep affection. Both Vegas and Pete shard that tender intimacy which couldn’t be compared to. They were the most important person in each other’s lives.

As they both finished off with the night, the clock turning around to 4am, they laid in each other’s embrace, unable to escape from the warmth of the night. Pete faced the window, looked beyond at the city, as Vegas put his arms around his bare waist, keeping him close.

Vegas- “You ok love?”

Pete- “Except for my legs being in pain, my ass feeling numb and my abdomen wanting to kill itself, i’m doing just fine”

Pete talked in a sarcastic tone, serious but also joking. He was in a lot of pain though.

Vegas- “I’ll give you a nice massage and bath tomorrow ok?”

Pete- “Hmm, thank you. I love you Vegas baby”

Vegas- “I love you more my fuckboy”

Pete- “Why am i a fuckboy?”

Vegas- “You love being fucked-”

Pete- “Shut up and sleep”

Vegas laughed softly as Pete rolled his eyes, being sassy. They both closed their eyes, sleeping the night away in each other's dreams.

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Thank you so much for reading my fanfiction! I’ll be back soon with another story for you to enjoy.

Requests are open! (BL’s are preferred for character development)

P.S- Thank you so much for all the support on my FF’s, i’ll continue to make many more!

See you soon my lovelies <88

-reii

#vegaspete fic #vegaspete #kinnporche the series #lgbtq #gay romance #vegas x pete #bl smut #pete saengtham #vegas theerapanyakul

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anaiswriterr · 4 years

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The Dragon Kings Queen

Pairing: Dragon King!Bakugou x Queen!Reader

Rating: M

Warning: This is part four, I’d like to point out be aware: 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝗼𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝗺𝐞𝐬, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐠𝗼𝐫𝐞, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐭𝐜. Please don’t read if you are not comfortable with it, and if you’re under the age of 18+ I will give a warning when it becomes NSFW but at the moment it’s SFW. Todays chapter does include gore, death, killing, hunting, sickness, etc.

Synopsis: ➪ When the word marriage crossed your mind, you believed you’d marry someone you loved. Not this brute of a King. So here you are standing at the end on an alter, pushing away the urge to run and fight. Possibly start a new life, instead of being dragged into a loveless marriage. But for the sake of your people.. They say he’s not what rumors make him out to be, but how can you believe that when his eyes burn into yours; just as fiery as before. How could you, ever love someone as barbaric as him…

- chapter five: the blood a trickster spills -

•

You grab onto a tree branch, grunting as you pull yourself up. It has been an hour since you've been aimlessly walking through the enchanted forest, your feet already burn in exhaustion. You managed a to find a stream, the land was smooth - perfect for a fire in the morning but right now your main priority:

Is to somehow climb this tree without breaking a leg.

You grumble incoherent words to yourself, enraged by the stubborn bark your hand could not grasp. You opted for another tree branch, pulling yourself up to a reasonably thicker branch - which you deemed was thick enough to wait the night out. Though sleep was definitely out of the question for you, a fall from this height was enough to put you out of commission and paint you dead.

You wrap your arms carefully around the trees trunk taking deep breathes in attempt to sooth your beating heart, "don't look down.. don't look down." you chant, the words stitching together like a prayer. But your eyes glance down - for only one second. One second and suddenly your breath hitches and fear burrows into your stomach. One slip and it was over. Your hands grasp hard onto the trees bark, imprinting your hand with small indents of patterns.

Your eyes grow heavy with sleep, exhausted from climbing. You mentally curse yourself for not taking advantage of the time you had in the carriage ride.

From beneath you, bushes rustle and heavy footsteps emerge.

Yet, you don't dare look down to peep what roams the dark night; growling and far away howls creep up your skin as you shiver. You were in a long night - a cold grueling night.

***

You shiver against the bark, as rain pours down from above soaking your boots and clothing. The rain clouds cover up the moon - as if the night couldn't get worse - you feel small rain drops drizzle down from the skyline. Tapping your nose and cheeks, falling hard onto the ground after a few seconds. You roll your eyes in annoyance, tightening you grip against the tree bark as the rain soaks you from head to toe. In this case you were going to get sick if you didn't dry up soon - and sickness in the kingdom was a true tragedy. Your grip is slippery, chunks of bark peels off the tree and onto the ground below. Startling the animals that roamed below - one snarls as it's hit on the head with one piece. Tightening your legs and arms you realize if you fall now, in this darkness, at this moment..

You would never see another night again.

Determined to survive you travel even further up top into the tree line, it wasn't the smartest idea, staying put in the position you were in and waiting the rain out seemed like a logical solution.

But you needed to get to the tree line.

The sky could tell exactly what time it was, where the rain was coming from, and when it would end. It was better visually, other than waiting for you to fall.

But that also was a thought, what if your foot slipped when you were trying to get further on top, surely by that height you wouldn't have to worry about getting eaten alive by creatures of the night - you'd simply die just by hitting the ground. In all actuality, you didn't wanna think about it, but each time your damned eyes just peered down you saw death. This entire forest reeked and felt like death, or was it a curse, a game? A game to see which Queen can be the most traumatized?

If so, you were pretty sure by the end of this you'd have to see the royal therapist. If there even was one in this kingdom you served.

Grunting you pull yourself up, cheering yourself on internally. You're just nearly there, one more step and the sky line would be clear!

Rain droplets splatter your face, gliding across your cheeks and drenching your hair. Just a few more branches, a few more pulls. The dark clouds peer through leaves above, and you can already see the rain clouds gathered together. You sigh in relief, the rain would stop soon, you estimated the rain would most likely stop in approximately five minutes. And the moon would shine down again. the clouds were just passing by.

You breath in the fresh air, ignoring the pelting rain.

You just simply needed to breath, tears run down your face as you stare off into the Kingdoms silhouette - staring angrily at the sky refusing to place your fate in another persons hands. Clutching onto your dagger your carve into the tree branch.

"I will not accept the fate you place me under, you scoundrel pieces of shit!" You say quietly under your breath, a promise you will get to retell to your future children when the time came.

***

Birds chirp all around you, it's officially the first day.

The beating sun scorned your skin, but the cough in your throat is enough to pull your attention away from the scorching heat. You are developing a cold.

Your throat tickles and your nose feels stopped up, your hand shoots up to cover the suns beating rays off your face. It was early, if you had to estimate most likely seven in the morning. The sun came down behind the kingdom at exactly seven thirty, (you made sure to observe), which only meant you had had twelve hours and thirty minutes to find food, make a fire, track down a goblin, and lastly if you were lucky enough to stumble upon safe herbs to create a tea that would soothe the pending cold.

If an infection didn't kill you, it'd be a cold that would have a final say, but the cold was the least of your worries.

You had a goblin to track down, and those tricksters could kill you faster than any fever.

You slowly move down the tree, checking your surrounds.

You found yourself a loose rabbit wandering off into its borough, noting your next meal for the day was only a few feet away. Your boots crunch onto the dried leaves and wet dirt, you search for dried logs that survived the rain fall, along with rocks that you could create a pit with. You set up directly in the sun in hopes to dry out a few damp logs. In the meantime you went to the rabbits borough - it had two entrances and from what you learned from Kirishima it would attempt to escape from the back. You stealthily placed a large heavy rock at the back entrance blocking its way.

Intricately you back away, you weren't so immune to dead animals. Your father went on annual hunting trips all the time, but, this would be the first time you are hunting out of survival.

The entirety of the "game" was survival.

You check up on your logs, noticing they are now dry from the suns heat. You grab your sticks rubbing your hands up and down to create a spark - fire blazes in front of you. Normally you'd say it was to hot to start a fire, but at night you rather face the cold than a grueling hungry Ogre. Of all things you had to deal with in life at this moment, a bitch ass Ogre was not one of the problems you had the proper strength and patience to deal with.

You grab an end of a stick, lighting the other half on fire. Waving it as a torch, your meal for the day would be served.

You rush over to the borough, lightly throwing the stick into the hole before closing it off with the boulder. Running over to the other end you hold your dagger.

You felt bad for the poor thing.

But a girls got to eat.

***

You have no idea where to start.

When one thinks of a goblin one would refer to the story books that claimed they lived under bridges - shunned away from society maybe even deep into forests. But those were simply just stories, if you had to think like a goblin you'd live far away from the kingdom in fear of being killed.

Nobody prepared you for the hunt, only survival.

You decide you should move, being stuck in the same place wouldn't get you very far. The herbs you were in search for in the meantime for your throat weren't found so you inevitability gave up on the luxury of a warm leaf of tea. You cough into your arm, sniffling your nose from running. The heat rose your temperature to the point you had to stop your travels to lie down, mentally cursing yourself for wasting time.

Heaving, you look up towards the sky, noticing the sun has moved positions. Only a few hours away of setting and you have yet found a single clue where you could find a goblin. You crouch down beside a creak, cupping your hands and drinking away the water from your palms. Splashing your face with it as well to cool the rising fever you felt approaching. You only had three days and if you were gonna make it back to start on time by the third day the heart must be in your possession. Your feet ache, and your calves muscles cramp. The lower part of your back is sore and the sun is burning the sides of your feet - you were in complete misery.

Black dots appear in your line of sight, you stumble onto your feet holding back the urge to vomit what little food you had left in your system.

Your hand quietly slaps over your mouth, clamping it shut.

"Well well well... what do we have here?"

Before you can even answer your sight goes dark, and you feel your head hit the ground. It falls silent.

***

Humming.

The sound of a cackling fire.

And the warm rich scent smell of hazelnut soup.

You slowly open your eyes, "What the-" your heart rate rises in fear, where were you? Who's here? Why are you here, how are you here? You search for the dagger but are left bewildered when the sharp blade is nowhere to be found. You shuffle backwards, your hands running over the wooden floorboards - splinters penetrate your skin. But you could careless, you remember passing out from the heat - or was it from a fever? You didn't know, footsteps approach you.

"Oh well it seems like you're awake!" A females voice cheers, you scan her body, taking in her frame. She was tall, and very beautiful, her striking long brown hair and dark green eyes, a dark red gown adorned her body. Narrowing your eyes in suspicion, you bark at the woman, "Who are you-"

"Now, that isn't a way to speak to a woman who saved your life your Majesty."

"How do you know who I am-"

The woman chuckles, "Well I hear everything! The forest, it speaks to me. And not to mention the witches that live here love to gossip!" You stare at her, blinking your tired eyes. It still didn't make much sense, yes technically you ruled this land as well but it's so far away. You can feel your pounding headache even worsen, "So you're a witch?" You ask, pulling your feet in.

"Ha! You think I'm one of those people! How rude. See I'm just a modern lady sitting in a cottage, I don't suppose you would know that kind of lifestyle." The woman shrugs, sipping her cup of tea.

You nod, "I'm afraid.. I don't actually." All your life you were surrounded by jewels and gold's, fed the most expensive meats and the most tasty fruits. Living a fast paced life of "don't say that." "don't touch that." "sit like this." and "who told you to speak." Speaking to Mina about eventually running away from marriage, even planning to take her too.

"Well it seems to me you are part taking in those heinous games the Dragons throw women into. What a shame, you are beautiful too."

You arch a brow in curiosity at her, "What do you mean?"

"I mean this isn't going to end well for you. I mean, look at you! You look like you couldn't hurt and fly, I wonder what King Bakugou must be up to? You wouldn't stand a chance against a goblin!" The woman laughs manically placing her cup of tea onto the table, she steps towards you. "I managed to survive one night alone-"

"Oh please, If I didn't take you in the wolves would've had a feast. You should be thanking me." You roll your eyes in annoyance, "Now dear," she grins, "you look parched. How about some tea."

Tea.

Your body is practically begging for a warm remedy to sooth your raw sore throat, oh.. you realized that you're actually growing sick. The headache on the sides of your temples is beating - pounding against your brain. Your vision is cloudy. How could you not of realized. You were so distracted by where you were you barley remember you couldn't find the herbs you searched for.

The lady wags an empty cup in your face.

"Come on. Your cheeks are burning red, and whether that's just a sun burn or fever I'm sure you need a sip. You're burning up a storm."

A part of you wonders her name, but was it truly important? Could she possibly show you were you could find a goblin? You look over your shoulder out of the window realizing the sun was just barley going down.

"H-How long was I out?" You shakily ask, pulling your hands into your chest.

The woman arches a brow, "You know for a Queen you surely do stutter a lot. You've been out since noon."

Lord if you didn't have strength to be patient you probably would've thrown a wooden slab at her by now, you breath in heavily through your stopped up nose; coughing in despair. Blowing out a few pieces of hair from your face. "Well, then do you want the tea or no - your royal highness?" She asks in a taunting matter.

"No. I'm fine." You huff.

"More for me then-"

"What's your name?" You interrupt, "Id love to know the name of the woman who saved me after all." You grin tilting your head to the side. The lady clears her throat, "Marigold. My name is Marigold." You nod, finally knowing her name. "Well Marigold, do you know where I can find a goblin?"

The word seems to stop Marigold in her tracks. Her face grows pale for a second before returning back to her natural nonchalant expression. Blowing a raspberry she proceeds to laugh, "Well honey, that's a days trip. They live deep into the forest. You wouldn't make it there in time."

Hmm, you nod suspiciously. Recalling the last conversation you had with Kirishima.

"What do goblins look like? I've only ever read about them." You asked, moving beside him following him into the horse stall. He combs out the mane of his horse, "Well that's a tricky question my Queen. They are real tricky and can spew lies just to get you where they want... they promise you things. You have to be real smart to not fall for it - I've encountered one in my youth. It didn't look anything like those storybooks."

Your eyes wander her body; she looked normal. But to trust her would be a stretch, one that could kill you. Her voice sound normal. You watch her closely, "Where's my stuff?" You ask. Marigold arches a brow and shrugs her shoulders; "What stuff?"

You bark, "My dagger! My holster for it! Where is it?"

"Oh those things.. why do you need them?"

"I need to leave-"

"It's dark out, you wouldn't want yourself to increase your fever now would you. I promise this tea will sooth all your pains away. Even the ones deep in your heart."

You arch a brow, narrowing your gaze. Even the ones deep in your heart. Your brush her off as a bluff, "You don't know what you're talking about." You push yourself up from the floor, stumbling from the sudden wave of nausea. Sweat beats run down your forehead as you attempt to stand up straight. Marigold clicks her tongue, her long fingers run through her long brown locks. "No. No. It seems that... I do know what I'm talking about. A Queen who's too good for her new kingdom, thrown, stuck and forced into a loveless marriage; suddenly thrown into the enchanted forest to find a heart that she will be forced to eat? Poor unfortunate girl, you were better off dead."

Her words cut deeply, anyone could figure that out though. She didn't know you, how could she possibly think she had your life figured out. You were a Princess made into a Queen; it wasn't that hard to understand. To create peace between your kingdoms you had to marry Bakugou.

"Darling... you are unhappy." She takes small sips of her tea, "I can help you escape.. you don't love him you don't even know him. Come with me, and I can help nourish you back to health. You won't even have to return, I'm quite lonely myself. Now, have some tea. Your cheeks are practically scarlet." Marigolds grin is sinister, she taps her nails slowly against the table; that's when you realize:

Her fingers and nails are sharp, green, and coated with old blood.

Her green eye sharpen with each passing second - her pupils are almost snake like. You gulp down the fear that rose in you, ignoring the raging pound against your chest. What do you do? You can tell she's growing impatient, if you run out now with no weapon you could kiss your life away. If you stayed... no. You needed a knife, your dagger, anything even a wooden stake would do fine. "I don't bite, sit down." Marigold says menacingly, your feet scuff the floor as you make your way to her. This is the time where you're supposed be strong, you guess.

Marigold lifts up her tea kettle, you notice her teeth for the first time.. how sharp they were.. separated and long.. how could she disguise herself as someone so beautiful?

"Remember.. they are tricksters. They are going to tell you things you wanna hear, they can be anyone and anything." Kirishima's words rang through your head, "Well wouldn't that make them a shape shifter? I've heard those are a thing too, how can I be certain?" You pout, how would you know. The creatures of the Enchanted Forest were so complex. He crosses his arm, "You'll know when they begin to turn.. back into the creature they were originally. Don't catch yourself entertaining, they'll slice your throat in a second."

Your breathing grows heavy, she's a goblin. She's what you've been looking for, her name wasn't Marigold - Marigold was a the woman who the face, the body belonged too. This thing... is morphing. You choose your words carefully, slowly reaching out for an empty tea cup and quietly asking her to fill it. If you could just lead her into the kitchen somehow you could possibly get a knife, "Well now that's the spirit my Queen. I promise this tea with sooth everything away, melting all the overwhelming emotions you may be feeling." The woman mutters before pulling back a hot tea kettle.

Hot.

Tea.

Kettle.

Boiling water is in there. Your heart prancing in joy, you have a chance. You had an opening, quickly, you stop her with your hand. "Actually, may I poor it? I-I sometimes like mines a little more full than usual." You smile nervously, "Oh why of course, here. Have as much as you'd like - it came right off the cauldron."

You nod, taking the handle away from her and carefully pouring the boiling tea into your cup. You make note of her wandering eyes, you've got to make this quick. You finish pouring, opening the kettle lid you ask aloud, "What kind of tea is this? It smells wonderful." You needed a distraction, a reason to open the lid.

"Lavender green tea with a speck of rose water-"

Your throw the boiling water over her head, her screams erupt in the as dining room; as her skin bubbles up. You throw the kettle at her head and knock back your chair, running towards the kitchen. "You wretched! Horrid- I'll slice your throat!" The Goblin screeches, you search the drawers and cabinets for something, anything! But to no avail you didn't find a single thing. Now you were completely done for.

Heavy footsteps and angered huffs make their way towards the kitchen - it's now or never. Throwing pots and pans you make sure to strike the goblin in the face, "After I saved your life! This is the thanks I get?" You hear, bending down to hide underneath the counter your eyes lock with a shining blade.

Your dagger!

Hidden behind the cauldron, you just needed a way to get back there. You needed a way to grab it, the goblins footsteps grow heavy. You silence your breathing with your palms, "I could've helped you, I could've been your escape. You greedy rat!" You hear tables being flipped over, cabinets being thrown open violently, "Wait till I get my hands on you.. I'll cut you open and gut you like a fish."

You attempt to keep calm, either way you were a goner if you hadn't left in that moment. When you hear the goblins footsteps move away in distance you shuffle onto your feet and zoom towards the cauldron. The crackling fire and boil contents bring you an idea. You hurry for the dagger, flipping it between your hands.

"There you are.." you hear a snarl from across the room, readying your blade to attack, you throw your hands up, "Thank you for the hospitality, but it looks like you have something I need." You point towards the goblins chest, the heart. A viable beating heart, only feet away. In mere seconds the goblin launches at you, reaching out to tackle you. You swiftly move out of the way throwing yourself to the ground, your palms throb in pain from the splinters lodged deep into your flesh - but that's the least of your worries. You scurry to your feet and push over the boiling cauldron over the goblin and stab your dagger deep into its head. Blood splatters your face in small droplets, staining your face and clothes.

You've never killed a "person" before.

Never did you think you could actually do it, but the small sigh of relief escaping your throat tells you that you are finally safe.

You proved what you had to prove. And for the night you had sanctuary.

Your mind races in adrenaline, you're alive.

Yet you had to kill in the process, does that make you one of them? No, you did what you had to do. It was a matter of kill or be killed. You pull your dagger away, out of its head, you didn't kill an innocent women. You killed a beast. Small gurgles and a moan fall from its mouth, the sound of death. You wipe away the blood on your forehead with your forearm and roll the dead corpse to the side.

The heart...

A token for the kingdom.

***

Blood stains your chest; dried up to the color brown as you stumble through the forest. Your eye lids feel heavy with every step you take yet you fight off the urge to fall to your knees and succumb to the dark black dots in your vision. It's tempting, yet you are so close to the finish.. you walked the full second day. With no breaks and no source of water on the way, your fever had returned full force as the sun blazed down your body.

You cough into your arm as your second hand clutches onto the heart you were meant to return. Fresh blood coats your hands from the animals you had to fight off for the heart, the trip back was just as worse, your eye lids flutter, opening and closing with each step you nearly fall to the floor.

You look like a dead girl walking.

Your feet shuffle and kick at the ground below.

Your back is sore and your throat feels dry from the cold of the night - the forest was ruthless. You can hear the tribal drums from afar, the sound edging closer and closer, increasing its volume with each step. You stumble to the ground, exhausted, thirsty, and sick. You consider staying down, to tired to even pull yourself up. You hear voices, they sound so close.

"I told you already, she'll be here."

Bakugou?

The king, your husband.

"Give her some more time."

It must be near afternoon then, you push yourself up when you heard Kirishima's voice agree with your husband. Providing you some more time to make it to the finish line - you assume the politicians want to speed up the process. You swore they must have something against you.

Your body feels sticky from the old, dried blood on your chest. Fingers still freshly coated in blood and dirt you push yourself off from a nearby tree - edging closer to the entrance of the Enchanted Forest. The setting suns sunlight peers through the small branches and leaves of the trees above, kissing your exposed shoulders, reddened from the sunburns that littered your skin. You wipe the sweat off your forehead; smearing a combination of dried and fresh blood all over your face. But you don't care, you just had a few more step till sanctuary.

The entrance is clear, open to the trail you followed.

You can see Kirishima from a distance, his rough shoulders tense in worry. Beside him, Bakugou stands with his arms crossed over his shoulders. An expression you couldn't make out contours his face.

You know you've finally made it out when a wave of heat smacks your face even harder - the setting sun beating on your body you stumble over to the King.

A smirk on your face as you hold up the heart, his eyes widen in surprise, taken aback you watch his lips move. But no sound comes out, it's all muffled around you. Black spots collect in your vision, "I-I did it.." you mumble, falling into his chest his hand reaches out to touch your forehead.

You lie passed out in his arms as he calls out to his guards, Kirishima collects the heart from your hand just before it could fall. "What do we do?" The dragon frantically says, Bakugou looks out for the Counsel men, his eyes fall onto the President. Glaring he announces, "We're taking her back to the Palace now!"

"You will do no such thing, your Majesty! She will be brought to the plaza hall, your people are waiting! Handmaidens, guards, take Queen Y/N, preserve the heart and bathe it in pigs blood. We are continuing the ceremony."

Your fever rose with each passing minute, and the exhaustion you'd expedited already was enough to kill. Bakugou breathes in heavily knowing he had no say in the ceremony. There was no way he could just simply override the parliament. Arms wrap around your body as the guards and handmaidens assist in take you.

They rip you away from Bakugou's arms.

"We'll take care of her after the ceremony-"

Kirishima interrupts the Counsel man, bearing his sharp teeth he growls, "I believe you will. I don't necessarily like the taste of humans." He threatens as they user you off. Bakugou stares in annoyance at the carriage that rushed you off to the plaza. Nightfall was close, and he could already feel the rumbling of ceremonial drums beneath his feet. A hand comes to pat his shoulder, the Counsels president, Hagoku Tekona, smiles. "You should probably head back to the plaza.. she might wanna see you as soon as we wake her up."

"You're just gonna wake her up?"

"We'll just drench her in pigs blood to wake her, she'll anyways have to. The tradition calls for the Queen to bathe in pigs blood as she intakes the heart to be fully part of the dragon clan-"

Bakugou, walks away, reaching out for Kirishima he taps his back.

"Make sure... they don't throw her around too much."

Nodding in agreement Kirishima fetches their horses, "I'll take care of her. Make sure she's conscious." The two jump onto their horses settling into the saddle, Bakugou mutters to himself, incoherent words bungled all in one sentence, he pulls back on his horse. Kirishima arches a brow in worry, eyeing his friend he doesn't know what to say neither what to do, the dragon mutters, "You seem surprised. Did you think she wasn't going to make it?"

Nodding Bakugou turns to face Kirishima, with notable surprise written on his face. "I thought I was going to have to find another wife..."

Chuckling Kirishima shakes his head before taking off with his horse, "Depending on how well tonight's ceremony goes.. it appears Bakugou that you have a wife beside your side."

"It appears.. so."

AUTHORS NOTES: Yooooooo! How are you guys, sorry for taking to long. This chapter was longer than the others so I’m happy with where this is going. I have been going through a few things, remember guys I’m just a teenager so it can be hard to fit things in on time. I just got a job, just waiting for the orientation, I have school work and I’m glad I have all A’s! Anyways I hope you liked it!!

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wavesmp3 · 4 years

Text

before sunrise

kevin moon x reader - strangers to lovers au, fluff - based off the movie before sunrise - wc. 9.4k - warnings: mentions of alcohol, lots of dialogue, cursing, and a few attempts at comedy

synopsis → You and Kevin Moon only have one night together before his flight leaves the next morning. And before meeting Kevin, you never would’ve believed that one night is long enough to fall in love with someone.

The train rattles on and on, a blur of colors painted beyond the small window you rest your head against. A headache is forming, between your ears and behind your eyes, a small thrumming that’ll make the rest of this train ride unbearable if you don’t end whatever’s causing it. Except you don’t know whether to blame the rattling train or the lovers' quarrel from the couple sitting across from you.

You make another attempt to ignore the rattling and the arguing, holding your book closer to your face and starting the same paragraph you’ve been on since boarding the train. The effort does little to help on either account. You sigh, loudly, in the hopes that your annoyance stings the ears of the couple next to you. It does not. So you get up, gather your things, and move further down the car.

You settle into a new seat, the couple’s argument still audible but less intruding than it had been when you were sitting right beside them. You open your book to restart the same paragraph when someone interrupts you. Again.

“Hey, do you have any idea what those two are fighting about?”

You look up from between the pages, lifting your eyes to meet those of the person who spoke to you without lowering the book itself. You stare at him, taken aback almost, by asymmetry of the smile he’s directed towards you and how charmed you are by it. You swallow.

“Oh, sorry,” his body caves inwards, scratching a spot behind his neck, “do you speak English?”

You nod, too eagerly. “Yeah, no, I speak English. Just no clue what they’re arguing about.” You lower the book, folding in the page you’ve yet to move on from and leaning forward in your seat, just enough to catch sight of the couple whose voices get louder with each passing moment. “My German is not very good.”

“Ah,” the boy mutters, his pitch-black hair falling in front of his eyes, “that’s what that is.” He turns back to you, looks at you expectantly almost, then awkwardly laughs sitting back in his chair. He gestures to your book. “I’ll let you get back to it. Sorry to bother.”

And you’re about to tell him it’s fine, that you don’t mind the small talk, when you notice the book laying in his lap and the finger he has shoved between the pages to mark his spot. And the words sort of fall back down your throat once you do.

You return to your book, not even bothering to start the paragraph for what feels like the thousandth time. Instead, you stare at the printed page, passively listening to the heated German flying between the couple and thinking about the boy sitting across the aisle from you.

The couple stands up suddenly, dramatic enough to make half the car look up at them. One of them makes their way down the aisle in your direction, walking hurriedly and shrugging off the hand their partner places on their arm, as if they could not get way fast enough. You look towards the boy across from you with a raised brow. He makes a face at you, lifting his shoulders and shaking his head. You bite back a laugh, eyes following the couple as they exit the car. The sliding door opens with a whoosh and closes, their absence swallowing the car in silence.

“What are you reading?” The guy asks, pushing his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose.

You hold up the cover of your book for him to see. “You?”

He looks down at his lap, pursing his lips and chuckling a bit, hesitating, as if he wasn’t expecting you to return the question. He holds up the book.

“Series of unfortunate events?” You murmur, recognizing the cover.

“In my defense, I’m rereading it.”

“No judgement.” You tell him, lifting up your hands in surrender. “I read it when I was young as well.”

“It’s a good series, right?” You nod. “Thank you.” He huffs, resting his back against the train seat.

“Although, I’m not sure if it’s good enough to reread. Not sure I get why people reread anything, actually. I mean there are so many books out there, why bother rereading one you’ve already read?”

He shrugs at that, tilting his head and gaze fixed on the book. “Nostalgia, I guess.”

You accept the answer with a nod. The couple returns then, and the clamor of their argument returns with them. You both watch as they pass by your seats.

“Hey,” the guy begins again, sitting up in his seat and shifting his body until he’s in the aisle seat instead of the one by the window, “I was thinking of going to the lounge car. Would you wanna come with?”

“Yeah, sure.” You lean towards him. “Why not?”

—

“I’m Kevin Moon by the way.” He says once you’re both seated, extending his hand. You take it; give him your name. And there’s a draft that runs through the lounge car when he repeats it to himself. “So are you coming from Copenhagen too?”

“Yeah, I was visiting some family there?”

He nods. “And how are they?”

You laugh, giggle really, awkwardly despite the faux intimacy of his question. Nodding, you answer: “They’re great. Well—great is a bit much. Content, perhaps?”

“Content sounds good.”

“So where are you getting off?”

“Amsterdam.”

“What’s in Amsterdam?”

“No clue.” You laugh at the response, or maybe it’s at the quirk of his brow and the nervous tapping against his knee. “I have a flight out of there tomorrow morning. So I was thinking I’d explore the city some, attempt to experience all of Amsterdam in one night.”

“Yeah, and where are you flying to?”

“Back home.”

“Let me guess,” you start, a teasing lilt in your voice, “America?”

“Canada, actually.” He proudly corrects. “Where are you from?”

“All over.” You gesture around vaguely. “Moved around a lot growing up. And now I’m in Paris.”

“Is that where you’re getting off?” He asks, leaning forward. You nod. “Why Paris?”

“University.”

“Oh,” he looks shocked, “which one?”

“Would you even know it if I said?”

His mouth parts, eyes darting around somewhere above your head. “Yeah, probably not.”

“What about you?” You ask once your laughter has died down. “Still in school?”

He’s quick to shake his head. “Gosh, no. School was never really for me.”

“Why not?”

“I-“ he falters, tilting his head back at the question, “well, why are you still in school?”

“No real reason.” You plan to leave it at that, but when you look up at him, keenly waiting for you to continue, some part of you wants to elaborate on it as well. “Sort of like I’m not sure what I’d do with myself once I finish.”

“I feel that.”

“You feel that?” You echo, a laugh dancing under the question.

“Yeah.” He answers sincerely, eyes fixated on you and surprisingly serious. “I do.”

“Oh,” you blurt, taken aback by how genuinely he means it.

The waiter appears then, handing you menus and taking your orders after.

“So of all the places you’ve lived, which one felt the most like home?”

You think over the question, tongue poking at the inside of your cheek. “Maybe Copenhagen. I have the most family there.” You add as a half-hearted explanation. “But I don’t know, I guess no place has felt much like home yet.”

“Not even Paris?”

You shake your head. “There’s this quote that goes: what is a home if not the first place you learn to run from.”

“So is that what Paris is?” He asks, resting his head against his hand. “The place you ran to?”

You shrug. “Something like that.”

There’s a beat of silence, somehow you spend the entirety of it starting at Kevin. “You seem to be very well read.” He says finally, looking away first and folding a napkin over his lap.

“It’s just one quote.”

“One more than me.”

“Maybe if you stopped rereading ‘the series of unfortunate events’, we’d be on even footing.”

He gasps. “You said ‘no judgement’.”

“It’s called being polite.” He shakes his head disapprovingly. “So how about you? Were you just visiting Copenhagen, or…?”

“No, I’ve done the whole tour. Started in Madrid, hit Paris, Rome, Vienna, Budapest, Berlin, London, Athens, Prague, Florence, Lisbon… you know, all the big ones.”

“I hope not in that order.”

He laughs brightly. “No, not in that order. Thanks for the vote of confidence though.”

“Of course.”

“But, yeah, I bought the Eurail Pass a while back and decided I would see as much as I could.”

“How long have you been here?”

“About a month and a half now.”

“Wow. And just for a holiday or?”

“Yeah, well,” his face turns down, a cloud passing across the sun and casting a shadow over the table, “I had a friend in Madrid, but, uh, mainly—yeah, mainly vacation.”

You don’t prod any further, nodding at his half-baked answer.

“But what I’ve come to realize,” he continues on, “during these past few weeks, is that there’s something special about just sitting on a train and staring out the window.”

“What’s special about it?”

“For starters,” he gestures to the rolling green hills outside the window, “it’s beautiful. But also, I get these ideas while sitting here.”

“What sorts of ideas?”

“Like,” he hesitates, leaning back towards you, “well it’s gonna sound dumb to say outloud.”

You watch him carefully. The asymmetrical smile that you first noticed appearing on his lips again. And maybe that’s what makes you lean towards him and say,

“Try me.”

—

“Hey,” you push away your now empty plate and tap on the window as the train rolls to a stop, “isn’t this Amsterdam?”

“Oh yeah,” Kevin checks his watch, “it is. I guess I lost track of time sitting here.” You check the time yourself and realize it’s been over two hours.

“Well for what it’s worth, I really enjoyed talking with you,” you tell him, shifting in the seat.

He returns the sentiment, and you both continue to go back and forth until the train does actually stop, a loud whistle traveling through the lounge car.

“Well, this is me.” He says softly, sucking in his bottom lip.

You extend out your hand. “Nice to meet you, Kevin Moon.”

He shakes it. “Nice to meet you too.”

You watch him go, lugging a duffle bag by his hip and pulling a pink beanie over his hair. And once the door to the lounge car closes swiftly behind him, you slump into the chair resting your head against the window and scanning the group of people on the platform outside of it. Maybe, you think to yourself, I’ll catch him leaving.

“Okay, I have a crazy idea.”

You jump at the sound of his breathless voice, jolting up in your seat. “Kevin, what are yo—”

“Blow off Paris for one more night.”

“What?”

“Just—like I know this is crazy—but just listen for a second.” He tosses his duffle bag into the seat that was occupied by him a minute ago and places both his hands on the table, leaning down slightly. An action that leaves no room for you to think he’s joking. “My flight only leaves tomorrow morning, and I was planning on wasting time in Amsterdam until then. So come with me, let’s hang out for the night, and you can catch the first train back to Paris. I haven’t had a conversation like the one we just had in so long, and I don’t really want to say bye yet. So, let’s just see where this goes. And if it sucks or if you realize you hate me, then you leave, and we part ways just like that. No strings, no obligations.” He pauses there, chewing on his bottom lip and fingers curling around the edge of the table.

And for some reason, after his whole speech, you find yourself thinking about the arguing couple from the other car.

You grab your things. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Come on,” a grin fights its way onto your face, excitement teetering in every part of your body, “let’s go.”

And some small of part of you that’s hanging onto reason knows this is a terrible idea, a reckless and stupid idea that you would chide the protagonist of a horror movie for. But another part of you, the same part that can’t get over Kevin’s asymmetrical smile and the same part that said yes when he asked if you wanted to go to the lounge car, is too enthralled with the idea of continuing whatever this is to say no.

So this time when Kevin leaves, you don’t watch him go; instead, you follow him off of the train.

—

You’ve been to Amsterdam before, once on a holiday with your family that you can barely remember and again on a school trip when you were much younger. But despite the two times you’ve been to this city, walking beside the street and admiring the brightly painted buildings with Kevin feels like a first.

And after seven minutes of mindlessly walking around Amsterdam with a complete stranger, the reality of your earlier choice strikes you like a burst of wind across the cheek. The exhilaration that compelled you to get off the train withering away with each step. Not a word has passed between either of you since agreeing to Kevin’s plan.

“This is,” you start, voice hoarse and hiding a shy laugh behind your palm. “This is weird.”

“No, yeah, it’s awkward, right?” Kevin smiles, scratching a part of his neck. “Do you…” he shoves his fists into the pockets of his coat, “do you regret getting off the train with me?” He laughs after he asks the question, as if he’s embarrassed to even bring it up.

“No,” you tell him honestly, scuffing your shoes against the pavement and avoiding looking at him. “Not yet.”

In a corner of your vision, you see him nod, then smile. The asymmetrical one that first caught your attention. And in that moment, a tiny spark of exhilaration returns.

—

You and Kevin find yourselves in an art museum. The first activity you could find to fill in all the awkward silences. You take turns acting as guides explaining the curation of each piece of art. A suggestion that you had made and then come to regret when Kevin tries to argue that a modern sculpture of sunflowers is actually just the Shrek movies reimagined.

“And see that part,” he says animatedly, pointing at a corner of the piece, “is actually depicting that once scene in the beginning of Shrek 2 when—”

You just laugh, shoving his arm playfully and wandering on to the next piece.

“Hey,” Kevin calls from further along the wall, “come look at this one.”

“So, what is this one about?” You tease, meeting him beside the art piece. “Ice Age or Monsters Inc?”

“No bullshit explanation this time, actually.” He mumbles, eyes trained on the art still. “I really like this one.”

You take a moment to study the painting, done by an impressionist artist according to the blurb beside it. The piece depicts a whole bunch of couples dancing on a street.

“I like how the background is all a blur.” Kevin says. “As if each of the couples are so occupied with themselves that everything else sort of fades.”

“I think my favorite part,” you start, taking a step towards the painting, “is how the girl in this pair and the guy in this one are painted like their fading. Makes me feel like they aren’t real; like they’re a dream or a memory.”

“Or a ghost.”

“Yeah,” you smile at the thought, “or a ghost.”

Kevin leans down to read about the piece. “It’s called ‘Lovers Embrace’”

“I like it.” You declare, thinking over how fitting the title is.

He straightens back up, smiling. “Me too.”

—

The art museum is effective in easing the awkwardness between you and Kevin, acting as a distraction from the insanity of the current circumstances and your belated recognition of it, so that now, while meandering about a record shop he found, conversation flows as easily as it did in the lounge car. And when you realize that, another bit of your exhilaration returns, bursting within your chest and fluttering against your gut.

“I have an idea.” Kevin announces as you finger through a section of records.

“Another one?” You deadpan.

He flicks your arm, continuing, “We both pick a record to listen to. And then a random, third one for good measure.”

“How are we picking the third one?”

He hums in thought, drumming his fingers against the shelf. “Okay, I got it. Close your eyes.”

You point a finger at yourself. “Me?”

He squints at you, dramatically looking side to side and bringing the emptiness of this portion of the store to your attention. “Who else?”

“Fine but--”

“Just close them.”

With a long sigh, you do.

“Okay,” Kevin murmurs, spinning you around by the shoulders. He jerks you to a stop. “Now choose a record.” You push your hand out, feeling around for the nearest rack of records. “No, that’s boring.” He complains. “You have to walk around a little bit.”

“You know, we could’ve avoided this if you just chose the random record instead of me.” You huff at him, slowly walking around with your eyes still closed as per Kevin’s request.

“Watch out,” he warns, ignoring your comment, “you’re about to hit a stand.”

Eventually, you walk far enough from the place you started at. Blindly reaching out to the rack, you chose a record that feels the most worn around the edges. You open your eyes, blinking, and are about to read the cover when Kevin stops you suggesting you both wait until you’re in the listening booth. You agree, parting ways to pick your own record to listen to.

After a few minutes of browsing the store, you meet with Kevin outside of the listening booth, two records under your arm.

“Play yours first.” Kevin says, stepping into the booth with you. You pull the record out of its sleeve and place it in position.

Moon river, wider than a mile

“Ah,” he sighs, as the song begins to play, “I love this song.”

I’m crossing you in style someday

You swallow back a smile and mutter a small ‘me too’.

Wherever you’re going, I’m going your way. Two drifters off to see the world

“Kind of fitting, isn’t it?” He asks, laughing lightly and knocking his head back against the wall of the booth.

“Part of the reason I chose it.” You explain, turning your head towards him just in time to catch his eyes fluttering shut. An action that sends a familiar burst of exhilaration running heavily over your chest. He looks at peace like this, you think, his gold frames resting on the middle of his nose and a tuft of black hair slipping out from under his beanie. It’s only when the song ends, the repeated skipping of the needle replacing Sinatra’s voice, do you realize you’ve spent the entirety of it staring at Kevin. His eyes snap open at that moment; you’re quick to look away, busying yourself with the drawstring of your bag and ignoring the warmth that fills your body.

Kevin removes your record and fixes the one he chose in place. The song starts on a familiar chord.

Kelly, can you handle this?

You shoot him a look, just barely holding your laughter in.

“I know. Totally different vibe from ‘Moon River’ but this is the only Beyoncé song I could find.”

I don’t think they can handle this.

You start singing along. Kevin joins, dancing along as well despite how small the booth is. And when he starts twerking, you spend the last two minutes of the song laughing in shock.

The song ends, after Kevin declares his love for Beyoncé. You hand the Destiny’s Child record back to Kevin and pull the final, random record out of its sleeve and set it in place.

“How’s your Italian?” Kevin asks, as you straighten back up waiting for the song to play.

“No better than my German. Why?” He flips the vinyl’s cover around to show you. “Il Mondo by Jimmy Fontana,” you mutter as the first note rings throughout the booth.

No stanotte amore non ho più pensato a te

Kevin finds the translation online, scooting closer until the side of his arm is pressed against yours, phone tilted so that you can see. You lean in to better read the lyrics.

Gira, il mondo gira, nello spazio senza fine Turning, the world’s turning, in a space without end

Your eyes catch Kevin’s for the briefest of moments before he looks away, quickly refocusing his gaze on the opposite side of the booth.

Con gli amori appena nati, con gli amori già finiti With the lovers just now starting, with the lovers already parting

You don’t return to the lyrics, instead watching as his focus ping pongs between the phone screen and the wall.

Con la gioia e col dolore della gente come me With the joy and with the hurt of the people like me

His eyes flit over to your face. You look down, pretending to read the lyrics, swallowing.

Il mondo The world

And from a corner of your vision, you can see him watching you, can feel his eyes on you. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore how good it feels to know he’s staring.

Soltanto adesso io ti guardo, nel tuo silenzio io mi perdo Just now I see you, in your silence I lose myself

There’s a jerk of movement from Kevin. But the second you angle your head towards him, he tilts his chin up, smiling at the ceiling and tongue running over his teeth. You stare at him and consider for a moment: tearing your eyes off him, turning your head down again, and pretending to read the lyrics. But as quickly as the thought comes, it passes. And you find it impossible to care that he knows you’re staring, figuring that it’d be just as impossible to make yourself look away.

E sono niente accanto a te I am nothing beside you

His chin falls at the line, dark brown eyes dancing around the room before landing on yours. And this time, you don’t look away. There’s a sharp inhale. A loud gulp. The slightest turn of your body and an even smaller glance at the curve of his lips. His fingers flex, knocking against your knuckles, lingering for too long to be accidental. And it’s like time stops at that moment, like all the clocks in the world cease to tick, making you and Kevin halt as well, standing still, unmoving, staring at each other as if you hadn’t spent the past minute avoiding each other’s eyes.

And you swear, if the music hadn’t stopped, the scratching needle cutting into the air, you would’ve fell in love with Kevin right then.

—

“A piano,” you point out as you and Kevin are about to leave from the record shop. You go to it, admiring the dark brown wood and fingers ghosting over the ivory keys.

“Do you know how to play?” Kevin joins you in the corner of the shop that houses the piano.

“Gosh, no.” You pause, your middle finger hovering over a black key and tilt your head towards him. “Do you?”

He nods, taking a seat on the bench and patting the spot beside him for you. He starts playing a song you don’t recognize but one that manages to sound vaguely familiar anyways. Like it was playing in the background of a movie you can no longer remember the name of, or like you met the song in a dream and memorized the melody in your sleep before waking up the next morning.

And maybe it’s because you know this song without having ever heard it before or maybe it’s because the chords have been sitting in your soul every night since that forgotten dream but something about the song and something about this moment, makes you scoot closer to Kevin and rest your head against his shoulder.

He stops, barely, for the tiniest of seconds, fingers hesitating above the next key, then continues a breath later. And sometime between the end of this song and the start of the next, you feel his head lean back against yours.

—

You and Kevin decide to get dinner after leaving the record shop, choosing the first place you can find to fill your empty stomachs.

“Let’s ask each other some questions.” You suggest while you’re waiting for the food to come out. “One to help us get to know each other better, and we have to answer one hundred percent honestly.”

“Okay,” he nods, “I’ll start. Favorite color?”

“Green.”

“Gold.”

“Favorite movie?”

“Up.”

“Howl’s Moving Castle.”

You both continue like that asking each other for even more favorites: favorite food, favorite show, favorite holiday, favorite city. Vancouver, Kevin had answered to which you scoffed complaining that choosing his hometown is cheating. He only shrugged. You move onto firsts after: first phone, first kiss, first childhood memory, first job, first celebrity crush.

“You’re turn to ask.” You remind, hoping to quickly move on after confessing your childhood obsession with Chad Michael Murray.

“Okay,” Kevin hums, contemplating a new question and twirling his drink around, “how about… first love?”

“Oh, uh,” you scratch a spot on the table, “I’m not really sure I’ve ever been in love.” You pause there, expecting Kevin to say something. He does not. “Like I’ve dated before,” you sputter out quickly, filling in the empty space left by his nonexistent reply, “seriously, too. But I don’t think it was ever actually love.”

His mouth parts, chest inflates slightly, as if the words need a minute to boil in the back of his throat. They must never come, you think when his mouth closes and his chest deflates, lips tightly shut. A silence crashes over the table, awkwardly taut.

“What about you?” You return the question, cutting through the silence with what you hope is nonchalance.

“Oh, me,” he chuckles sheepishly, “probably freshman year band. I fell so hard for this oboe player.” You give him a look at the confession, sucking in your bottom lip and biting back a laugh. His face twists with confusion. “What?”

“I just can’t believe I got off a train with a band geek.”

“Hey,” he defends, “better than a serial killer.”

You shrug. “Not by much.”

—

It was Kevin’s idea to rent a boat to ride along the canal in. “The little foot pedaling ones,” he had requested, pointing them out. Luckily, you were able to find one before they shut down for the day. And the late timing of your activity made for a picturesque backdrop, the sun beginning to set as you drift along the canal, the sky immersed in varying hues of pink, yellow, and blue. Kevin had paused pedaling for a second to take a picture of the sunset which was fine until one picture turned into fifty.

“You know when you said you wanted to boat along the canal I sort assumed you were gonna help me pedal.”

“Last one.” He mumbles, the small shutter of his phone camera clicking before he shoves it back in his pocket and resumes pedaling with you. “More favorites?” He offers when the silence lingers for a little too long.

“Please, no. I know way too much about you now.” He laughs at that. “New topic.”

“Do you ever think about dying?”

You whip your head towards him. “Morbid much?”

“Yeah, I know, but seriously.” He says, brows lifted to further prove the sincerity of his question. “Do you?”

You turn back to the front. “I mean I’m alive, so yeah, sometimes. You?”

“Probably think about it too much if I’m being honest.” And there’s something that sounds distinctly like exhaustion in the way he says it.

“Would you rather know how you die or when you die?” You ask suddenly.

His answer comes just as quick. “When. Definitely when.”

“Why?”

“I feel like if I were to be told how I die, I’d spend the rest of my life avoiding it or trying to stop it. But there isn’t anything I can do to avoid the passing of time.”

“Profound.” You mutter, unable to figure out if you’re surprised or shocked by how well-thought his answer sounds.

“I told you,” he says, with a breathy laugh, “I think about death too much.”

“What about a goal in life?”

“What about it?”

“Have one?”

He considers the question, eyes trained on the water rippling in front of him. “To make a difference in someone’s life maybe.” He shrugs. “To be happy. I don’t know.”

“Being happy used to be mine too.”

He frowns. “Used to?”

“I used to be obsessed with this idea of happiness,” you tell him, nodding, “used to spend all my time avoiding whatever made me sad. But whenever I chased happiness, I was also the most dissatisfied with my life.” You stop for a second, check Kevin’s reaction, and find a frown still imprinted on his face. “I kinda see it like clouds now. They’re pretty from afar, but when they’re up close, we call it fog. Even when happiness was placed right in front of me, it never felt like enough. Most days, I’m still teaching myself that happiness is not a permanent state of being; it’s an emotion, and it comes and goes like the rest of them.”

He doesn’t say anything for a while. Silently pedaling the boat along the canal. Then finally—

“Damn, who’s the profound one now.”

—

You and Kevin find yourself on a bridge that overlooks the canal after renting the foot pedaling boat. The sun is barely visible, taking its last dip in the horizon before disappearing altogether. You hold out your hand to hover in one of the last golden rays of light, shivering at the warmth.

“Do you ever feel like you’re running out of time?”

“Running out of time for what?”

“To experience life.” Kevin further explains, with a heavy exhale. “I feel like there’s this sick pressure and expectation created by romanticized coming-of-age movies that my youth is supposed to be the best years of my life. Like I should be living every second of it to the fullest. And then I end up spending all my time wondering how I’m going to live up to my youth instead of actually living it.”

“So, is that why you did it?” You pull your hand back in, tucking it under your chin. “Did you ask me to get off the train with you so that in ten years you can look back and feel like you made something of your youth, like you didn’t waste it.”

And something about the bluntness of your question must spread through the air and tug at the end of his lip. “Well, that’s a harsh way to put it, but,” he frowns, inhaling mid-sentence, “I don’t know. Maybe—yea, maybe it was part of the reason.” He pivots around, back pressed to the railing, elbows propped on the ledge, and face turned away from the last sliver of setting sun. You study his face: the point of his chin, slope of his nose, and high set of his cheekbones. He’s pretty. Too pretty, even. A realization that lands as heavily in the pit of your stomach as it did the first time you noticed on the train. And perhaps it’s just that: a realization. Or perhaps, more terrifyingly, it’s something closer to attraction. “Well, why’d you do it?” Kevin asks, turning his head slightly and catching you watching him, something you’ve both done too many times at this point to keep count of. “Why’d you get off the train with me?”

You swallow. “I thought about that couple from the first car. When you asked me to come with you, I thought of that arguing couple and saw my future flash before my eyes. I felt like I could see myself fifteen years from now. Could see myself falling in love, getting married, and somewhere along the way falling out. I could see myself sitting and fighting in the middle of a train. And a part of me just knew, that if I didn’t go with you, if I stayed on that train and continued to Paris, I’d spent the rest of my life regretting it, wondering what could’ve happened.”

You turn away from the sinking sun, swivel your head around to face Kevin again and find him differently than you had left him. Head tilted and biting at the inside of his cheek. Side pressed against the bridge’s railing so that he’s facing you directly. You straighten up, position yourself to face him as well, another asymmetrical smile growing on his face while you do.

“I’m really glad you decided to get off the train with me.”

You step closer, and when your hand knocks against his, he catches it, fingers curling around yours. “Me too.”

“Although, I do hope that if you’re married in fifteen years, it’s happily and that you’re one of those sickeningly in love with each other couple that everyone hates.”

He doesn’t look at you as he says it, watching your intertwined hands with a shy smile instead. And it’s somehow, oddly intimate when he squeezes your palm while wishing you a successful, hypothetical marriage. You feel suddenly breathless, and more prominently, fearless.

“I want you to kiss me.”

His eyes snap towards yours, pupils dilated and darker than normal. He doesn’t say anything.

You know he heard you, know—slightly less confidently—that he wants to kiss you as much as you want to be kissed. So you step towards him again, tugging at the end of his sleeve.

“Kevin.”

His gaze drops to your lips. “Yea.”

“Kiss me.”

And rationally, you know soulmates don’t exist. But there’s something about the way his lips fit perfectly against yours that almost makes you reconsider the belief.

—

“You know when I suggested we play pool, I really wasn’t expecting to have my ass handed to me like this.” He groans, staring at the five of his balls still left on the table.

“Next time suggest darts.” You tell him, voice raised to be heard over the loud pub.

You put the pool sticks back and seat yourselves at one of the empty tables.

“Okay, I have a question,” he says, leaning forward against the small booth table. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

“Definitely not.”

“Really?” He sounds surprised.

“You do?”

“Well…” he hesitates, tongue darting out between his lips, “I don’t know if I believe it but I also don’t not know that I do.”

Your face contorts at his wording. “I don’t think—”

“Okay, yes, I know, but like have you never fallen just a little bit in love with a complete stranger?” You shake your head slowly. “Like you’ve never had a barista compliment your jacket or your eyes once and then spent the next week thinking about them?”

You place a hand to your heart. “I genuinely had no idea this was a common occurrence.”

“You know what, no, I take it back, never mind,” he quickly says, the tips of his ears turning red and hand waving in the air to dismiss the thought. “New topic.”

A breathy laugh escapes from between your lips. “Alright, new topic,” you hum, nodding your head along to the music playing in the background, “do you believe in soulmates?”

He smiles at the question. “Yes and no.”

“Explain.”

“The term ‘soulmate’ has this implication that love will fall into place between two individuals, that they won’t have to work for it, and that it was chosen for them instead of by them. But isn’t it so much more special to look at someone and decide to love them specifically. Decide to love them on purpose. But more than that, the general idea of a ‘soulmate’ relies too heavily on the understanding of love as a feeling. And it’s as you said before about happiness: emotions come and go, and feelings fade. I imagine, more accurately, that love is a choice as much as it’s a feeling, one that you have to get up and make every single day. So yeah, I believe soulmates are real, but I don’t think they’re found; I think they’re made.”

And after his whole spiel, the only thing ringing throughout your head is: holy shit.

He looks up at you, shaking his head. “I don’t know,” he starts timidly, voice suddenly lacking the immense clarity it held just a second ago, “what do you think?”

“I think,” you swallow, a lame attempt to digest everything he just said, “that I’ll never look at love the same again.”

—

By the time you and Kevin leave from the pub, it’s completely dark out. Streetlamps now lit up and the roads less crowded with only a few whispering groups around each corner. You walk mindlessly around the city’s twisted streets, deciding when and where to turn on whims. And somewhere along the way, while you’re making a comment abput the closed antique store, Kevin’s hand finds its way into yours. You squeeze his palm, a silent affirmation, when he does.

“Wait,” you exclaim, halting suddenly in the square that you and Kevin have stumbled upon, “I think I’ve been here before.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, dragging him towards the fountain in the center, “I came here with my family once. I remember seeing this fountain and wanting to throw a coin in.”

“I mean are you sure? Fountains are pretty common.”

You shove his arm. “I swear this is the same one.”

“Here,” he mutters, reaching into his pocket, fishing out two coins, and placing one in your palm. “make a wish now.”

You hold the coin to your lips, closing your eyes while conjuring a wish and then toss the coin in the fountain. Kevin tosses his in a second after you.

“Hey, look,” you take a seat on the ledge of the fountain, pointing at the church across the square, “there was a wedding there today.”

“You know, I learned in school, I think, about Quakers, and,” he starts, sitting down beside you on the ledge, “they have the most interesting weddings.”

“What makes it so interesting?”

“Well for one, there’s no officiant. No handing off of anyone. What’ll happen is the couple walks in, stands in front of the entire congregation, and just stares. And it’s silent too, no one speaks unless they feel compelled to do so. Then after an hour or so, that it; they’re married. Just like that.”

You turn on the ledge to face him. “Okay let’s try it.”

His eyebrows waggle. “Getting married?”

You look at him unamused. “Just the staring part.”

He nods. “Okay, ready?” he shuts his eyes in preparation, “3, 2, 1, go!”

Your eyes open at the same time as his, and you nearly laugh at the sheer amount of competitive spirit radiating off Kevin at that moment. And when you mention it, he shakes it off, muttering something about how you’re supposed to be silent.

When you start leaning in towards him, it’s to mock him and his competitiveness. Or at least, it is at first. But somewhere along the way, you lose track of how close you get to him. Lose track of time as well. Too distracted with studying the concentrated furrow of his brows and the flecks in his eyes to notice whether you’ve spent one minute or twenty getting lost in them. And it’s a cheesy thought, yes, but there’s something about him and the black hair falling in front of his forehead that makes it so hard to care.

You inhale. “I think I feel compelled to do something now.”

“What?”

You close the distance, pressing your lips to his for a brief moment, then pull away.

“I won,” Kevin murmurs, a smug smile painted across his face, “you closed your eyes first.”

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, trying and failing to hold back a smile. “You’re ridiculous; you know that right?”

“I do.”

“Good.”

You kiss him again.

—

“Kevin, what are we doing?” You ask for the third time as he pulls you into the red telephone booth and shuts the door. “You do know that these don’t actually work anymore right?”

He shushes you, pressing a finger to his lips and picking up the receiver. “I have to make a call.” He clears his throat, holds the receiver up to his ear, and makes the ringing sound. “Come on, Jacob, pick up.” You stare at him waiting for the punchline. It never comes. Instead, he fixes you a look and nods his head at your empty hand.

“Ah, I see,” you hold out a fake phone in your hand, clearing your throat and putting on a fake deep voice. “Hey, Kevin. Long time no talk. How’s Europe?”

Kevin gives you a funny look. “Hey, Jacob. Europe is great, but why does your voice sound like that?”

You clear your throat again returning to your normal voice. “My bad, I just woke up.”

“That’s better. Anyways, I called to tell you that I met someone on my very last night in Europe.”

“How’d you meet them?”

“On the train to Amsterdam actually. They were sitting by this really annoying couple, so they got up and sat right across the aisle from me. What are the chances, right?”

“Probably, low.” You begin, a familiar exhilaration filling your stomach at what you’re about to confess. “Unless, of course, it wasn’t by chance at all. Unless they saw you getting on the train, thought you were really cute, and used the couple as an excuse to sit by you.” You smile as you say it, finding the way Kevin looks at you after the admission utterly swoon worthy.

“Well, even if that’s true. I think I sort of blew it with them in the beginning. They saw me rereading ‘A series of unfortunate events’ and probably thought I was so lame.”

“Nah,” you mutter, smiling at your feet, “they probably found it endearing.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I got a good feeling.” When you meet Kevin’s eyes, he’s still watching you, and you find it humorous, almost, how you can barely keep your eyes off each other now especially considering how impossible it felt to do so in the beginning. “So what happened after that?”

“Oh well, I asked them to come to the lounge car with me and guess what?”

“What?”

“They said yes.”

“Incredible.”

“Then, we got to talking, and, Jacob, everything they said sounded so smart and composed; I felt like a bumbling idiot in front of them. I mean, you wouldn’t believe how incredibly brilliant they are, not to mention gorgeous, and...” his voice trails off, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. You lean towards him a bit, as if that’ll get you closer to hearing the rest of the sentence.

“And what?”

“And I think I fell in love with them right then.”

For a second, you forget to breathe.

Kevin hangs up the fake phone call, handing the receiver to you. “Your turn.”

You take the phone from him, pretend to dial the number, then make the ringing sound while you wait for Kevin to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Chanhee. It’s me. I have to cancel on our lunch plans tomorrow.”

“Oh no. Why? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, no, everything is fine. I just met someone on the train and—god, I know this is going to sound insane—but I got off the train with him in Amsterdam.”

“That is insane,” his eyes widen dramatically as he says it. “What made you get off the train with him?”

“Well, for starters, the arguing couple.”

“Right, and of course, I, Chanhee, know exactly what that means.”

“See, I knew you’d understand.” You laugh. “But other than the couple, you know, we started talking on the train and he was so sweet and really cute in this clumsy, flustered sort of way. I don’t know. I think a part of me had already decided to get off the train with him before he ever asked.”

“That sounds…” he falters there, as if he’s still searching for the right word, “special.”

You nod. “It feels special too.”

“So what now?”

“I’m not sure.” You answer honestly. “He’s from Canada and has a flight back there tomorrow morning.”

“Well, do you plan on seeing him again?”

The question comes like a slap to the face from the palm of reality itself. One that you probably should have anticipated; a question that probably should’ve crossed your mind at least once. But somehow, you’ve neglected to wonder what’s to come of this fling past tonight.

You hang up, and the obnoxious clatter of the receiver falling back into place rings throughout the booth.

“I guess we should talk about that.”

“Yeah, I guess we should.” He mumbles, something in his demeanor changing with the words.

A silence overcomes both of you, and it feels like you’re in the listening booth of the record shop again, avoiding each other’s eyes and waiting for the other to make the first move.

“Well it’s—“

“I think—“

You both start at the same time, words crashing together in the air. He laughs, gesturing for you to go first.

You exhale sharply, tugging on your fingers and already nervous to hear how Kevin will respond. “I just don’t think we should fool ourselves here and make this out to be anything more than it is.”

“Yeah, no. I was gonna say the same thing.” He nods solemnly, visibly gulping as if the words are hard to swallow. A smile fights its way onto his lips but doesn’t manage to meet his eyes. “So what now?”

“Well, we have tonight,” you begin, stepping closer, finding his hand, and twirling his pinky finger with yours, “I say we make the most of it.”

“In that case,” he returns the gesture, capturing your hand and pulling you a little closer, “I have an idea.”

—

Kevin’s idea ends up with you standing awkwardly off to the side of a bar, quite literally twiddling your thumbs. You reach for Kevin’s necklace that’s now secured around your neck and wonder what part of his plan explains why he gave it to you before entering this establishment. You sneak a few glances at Kevin who's speaking with the lady behind the bar. The lady finally nods, smiling cheerily and heading around the bar. Kevin swivels around, shooting you a thumbs up before receiving the bottle of wine that the lady had retrieved for him.

“How did you do that?” You ask once you’re both out of earshot, exiting from the building.

“I told her that I just proposed.”

You look at him unconvinced, wiggling your left hand in his face. “No ring.”

“That’s what the necklace was for.”

“And it worked?” You say, disbelief seeping into your voice. “She believed you?”

He scoffs. “I don’t know why you look so shocked when you’re literally the one I convinced to get off a train with a complete stranger.”

And, well, he makes an excellent point.

—

You end up at a park, laying on your backs and making silly comments about each star. You have jackets laid out on the grass beneath you and another draped over both of you acting as a blanket.

“Have you ever heard of that theory?” You say, turning to lay on your side. “About how people fall out of love for the same reason they fell in.” He turns to lay on his side, nodding. “It terrifies me.”

He frowns. “I think love alone is pretty terrifying.”

“Did you mean it?” You reposition yourself with an arm under your head. “Back in the telephone booth, did you mean it when you said you fell for me on the train.”

He stares at you for a long moment then smiles, whispering a small but sincere ‘yes’.

“Can I tell you a secret then?” He nods. “I think I fell for you too.”

“When?”

“Guess.”

“On the bridge?” You shake your head. “During dinner?”

“Before that.”

“In the museum?”

“You’re getting colder.”

“Ah,” he sighs in understanding, “the listening booth.”

You nod. “It was while we were listening to that Italian song, ‘Il Mondo’. Each time I felt you looking away, I would look at you. Then you’d turn your head back, and I’d pretend like I wasn’t staring. That moment—well, I guess it was pretty mundane. But, I don’t know, it still felt a little like magic.”

“Mundane things can be quite magical.”

“Which one is love then: magical or mundane?”

He shrugs. “Both, I think.”

There’s a silence, and it lingers for long enough to remind you of the awkwardness between you and Kevin after getting off the train. However, this silence is so much more different than that other one because it’s the kind that only comes when two people understand each other.

Kevin is the one who ends up breaking it, cutting through the night’s overwhelming quiet with a soft voice.

“I feel like that painting from the museum right now.” He recalls the title: “‘Lover’s Embrace’.”

“Is that what we are?” You question, a bit of misplaced insecurity dipping into your voice. “Lovers?”

“Is there any other way to describe this?”

“I don’t know.” You inhale. “Strangers?”

He waits a beat, then offers: “Soulmates?”

You’re reminded of the conversation you had in the pub, and his gut-wrenching, life-altering definition of the term. You meet his eyes steadily. “Do you believe that?”

He smiles. “Do you?”

And there’s something about the way he says the question that makes it sound like a dare, like a request. As if he isn’t asking if you believe it, but rather, he’s asking you to believe it.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. But it’s a lie, you do.

“The way I see it,” he begins, scooting closer, “if someone were to give me an ultimatum: I’d marry you right now. And I know it’s insane, I know that probably just sounds like some grand romantic bullshit, but I’m serious. With how I’ve come to feel about you tonight, I could wake up every day and put in the work of choosing to love you.”

“And what about the couple on the train?”

“What about them?”

“What happens when we become them? What happens when we hate each other so much, we blow up in public?”

“Who says we will?”

“But hypothetically,” you insist, “what happens then?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes.”

“It’s gonna sound stupid.”

“Just tell me.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” He lets the statement sit for a second, inhaling deeply before continuing. “I’d accept the inevitable arguing in the middle of a train if I was doing it with you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“But that’s the craziest part,” he lets out a breathy laugh, “I actually do.”

“How?” You huff. “How can you sound so certain that you’ll love me despite all the things you’ll come to hate me for?”

“Because you got off the train with me,” he says, shaking his head like the answer is obvious. “And at this point in the night, I’m pretty convinced that you’re the only person in the world who would.”

And yeah, you think laughing, he’s probably right about that part. Because who else would be insane enough to get off a train with a complete stranger? Who else would fall in love on a train and while listening to an Italian record? Who else but you and Kevin Moon?

“You know what they call that?”

“What?”

You raise your brow, something terrifying hanging off the tip of your tongue:

“Soulmate culture.”

—

You used to love sunrises. Loved how golden they are. How they coat everything in sight, lighting up whatever darkness was left by the night. You always saw them as a promise of something new, a new day and a new beginning. But today, when the sun does finally rise, you can’t seem to remember why you used to love them so much. Especially not after you spent the entire night dreading this particular one.

The walk to the train station had been quiet for the most part, a solemn and groggy acceptance that it was your final stretch of time together. And now standing with Kevin at the platform, you’ve never hated the arrival of a train more.

“I should probably get on the train now.”

“Right,” Kevin mutters, chewing on his bottom lip and bouncing on his heels. He laughs, awkwardly, rubbing at his eyes. “God, I hate goodbyes.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I hate this one.”

You hug him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face between his neck and shoulder. He hesitates for a second, as if he’s shocked by the gesture, then tightens his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. And the only thing you can think about while hugging him is how this is the first and last time you’ll ever do so.

You pull away, give him a small, sad smile, then grab your things, stepping onto the train. You give him a wave before disappearing into the car. From the window by your seat, you can still see him. He finds you, giving you a smile and another wave. And when he turns around, beginning to walk out of the train station, nothing has ever felt more wrong.

“Kevin!” You shout, unlatching the window and sticking your head out of it. He whips back around. “Let’s just do it! Let’s see each other again!”

It takes a second for Kevin to react. Too long, your brain convinces you already wishing the words back. But it’s as you sink back into your seat that he breaks out in the most brilliant grin. “Fuck it, yeah, let’s do it! Where?”

You laugh at the absurdity of this moment and how unreal it feels. “Here! Amsterdam, at this train station, on this platform.”

“Okay, here. In one year?”

You shake your head. “I can’t wait that long.”

“Me neither.” He laughs, an exhale of pure joy that you can see even from the train.

“Six months from today.” You tell him over the train whistle as the wheels start to move, pulling you away. “See you then.”

He waves goodbye again, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting, “see you then!”

You fall back in your seat, immediately burying your face into your palms. Your hands trail down, rubbing at your neck, clutching the part of your chest that falls over your heart, and—what is that?

You look down, recognizing the object around your neck and lifting it up with the pad of your thumb. And as you stare at the pendant of Kevin’s forgotten necklace, your smile grows.

—

SIX MONTHS LATER

The train station feels so much more different than how you left it. The weather now colder, and the platform decked with lingering holiday decorations. You get off the train and look around, praying for a familiar face.

“Hey.” The voice comes from behind you. You pivot around, so quickly your head spins. Or maybe the spinning sensation has something to do with how euphoric it feels to see Kevin again.

“Hey.”

“You came?” He asks, not bothering to hold back his elation.

“Well, yeah,” you reach into the pocket of your coat and fish out the necklace he left six months ago, “you forgot this.”

“Funny coincidence, huh? Unless, of course, it wasn’t a coincidence at all.” He hints with a smug grin. “Unless I left it on purpose so that you’d have a reason to come back.”

“If that’s the case, then you spent six months without your necklace for nothing.”

“Oh, and why’s that?”

You step closer, smiling. “Because I already had a reason to come.”

a/n: i had way too much fun writing this,, also the translation of the italian song is half google and half me kind of assuming what the lyrics mean so idk how accurate that translation is

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peeterparkr · 5 years

Text

clear|19|t.h.

CHAPTER 19: SUN AND MOON

pairing: surfer!tom x reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: angst, death mention, it’s a funeral... I mean, cancer mention, fluff, too?, OH AND THIS IS LIKE 100% WRONG AND MADE UP, this is in no way accurate greek mythology

summary: the sun and the moon were lovers.

series masterlist playlist previous chapter next chapter

wanna be tagged?

Hello! So, there’s only one chapter left and an epilogue. This has been one hell of a ride and I thank everyone who’s been reading this story. Please tell me what you think, your comments make my day. I’m on my finals and I’m super stressed so maybe a little cheering up? I loved writing this, ngl

“We all have a purpose in this life,” she hid a sob. “I'm sorry… I've never been good at giving speeches… ”y/n said into the microphone as she glanced at the people who had come. They were in a church, they had already prayed and some had told stories. However, y/n thought she would have to speak for her grandfather. No matter how many tears she could shed, she needed to tell the story. "Pops ..." She cleared her throat, feeling like her voice was about to break. "My grandfather once told me that if I ran into someone, it was a miracle, a reason for being," she said with a little more security. “Everyone has a path and little by little we get together or we get separated, sometimes our paths go parallel and we don't know it until they cross,” She looked at Joanne to feel more confident. "There are roads that are destined to come together, then to get away, but in the end, they find their way back to each other" her eyes fixed on Tom. "My grandfather believed that his path was destined to come together, with my nana’s," She smiled, as a tear fell on the sheets of paper she was reading from. "Sometimes, I think so too, about him and my grandmother ..." she said as she closed her eyes. “I think there was no other couple more destined to be, and finally, they are together again. ”

y/n sighed, watching the many faces that were accompanying her in her sorrow, in her pain, people who loved her grandfather. People who she was surprised they were there. She saw Jared, Marcus, Lex and even Claire. They all had that sad look upon their faces, with pity for her. Three years ago, she hadn’t been able to stand in that same place. She remembered it, how no words had come for her nana, just tears and tears full of despair, of pain. She hadn’t come to the point where she had by now. She was still suffering, but she knew that her pops had been aware of it. She had grown. And when Nana happened, Matty had happened too.

And she saw some familiar faces who had been there, too, when Nana was gone. But, really, she hadn’t paid attention to them. She did now because they’re the ones who stay.

She saw new faces, too. She saw the other boys in the workshop and some boys she had seen at parties. It was no secret that her grandfather was loved. The good old Mr. James. Some, y/n supposed, were former students of his grandfather from his time teaching at the local high school. y/n, for the first time, saw that his grandfather, despite his grandmother's death, had not been alone.

"I think death is not ... something we should fear,” she cleared her throat. “My grandfather said it was the only thing we had for sure," y/n continued, as she bit her lip, her eyes locked on her mother. “That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less. It hurts for the one who stays, but it remains for us to honor his memory and live for them. He asked me to do that, to live a great life,” she sighed.

Y/N smiled sadly and sweetly. “That’s what pops did, lived every day, as if it were the last. He wanted the sun to rise every day, and if it didn't, he enjoyed the rain, the cloudy day, ”she continued. "Sometimes, the days will be dark," she looked around, and then she saw Tom’s family, too. "He told me, you are in charge of giving them colour, of giving them light, with that little brush of yours he’d say, with which you always paint, the world is your canvas, Doodles," she smiled again. "He said that his brightest light was gone and that's why he was looking for her light in different things, like in that old blue Aston Martin, he always said that light is never gone, he told me, whenever you’re in a dark room, you just need a spark to lead your way, a single light and everything will become clearer, because when the night is the darkest, a single light will become the brightest," she sighed. "I guess, he went to look for her.” She said as she turned to see the old photograph of her grandparents. "His light… His moon,” she let out a soft, almost inaudible and dry chuckle. “He used to tell me a story when Joanne and I were little ..." She began, while Joanne approached her. Her sister squeezed her hand while the two saw the paper.

“The moon and the sun,” y/n sentenced. “I think there is no better way to honor my grandfather than telling this story ... ”y/n said. She and Joanne saw each other before taking a deep breath, ready to read it. “I might just say, even though he was a teacher, he had a vivid imagination, and this might be mythologically incorrect but… So endearing to hear.”

A quiet laugh was heard from the audience.

"He’d start with… Rumor has it that two young lovers named Moon and Sun fell madly in love with each other," Joanne began to read the story.

"Hera, in form of a star, goddess of marriage and birth, was jealous that a couple of mortals could love each other in such an intense way and went down from the Olympus, to prove that their romance was not true," y/n continued.

“Expert in the power of seduction, shining brightly, the goddess tried to conquer the young man, but he vehemently rejected her by saying: ‘My lady, you are undoubtedly the most beautiful and sweetest woman there is, but my heart is only for my beloved moon. She is more desirable to me than gold itself, ”Joanne could barely read.

“Furious for not being able to woo him, and jealous that her own relationship would never be as bright as theirs, the goddess sent the lovers apart from each other, forever. She turned the young man into the star that would illuminate the day and the woman would illuminate the night, so they would never coincide in the sky. She was sure that their love would be extinguished, ”y/n said, knowing the story by heart. Her eyes kept seeing Tom.

“However, their love persevered, that of time and distance, They died each night and each morning so the other could breathe, they’d bathe in the ocean and dry in the sky. Longing to be closer but always apart. And each time they were apart they’d make their most magnificent entrance painting a beautiful pink and orange canvas, or a sprinkled black one. They’d be art to the other. Aphrodite, goddess of love, was inspired, so she intervened so that the Sun could at least touch the face of his beloved again, and he told the Sun that whenever he wanted to see his beloved Moon he should try his best and then he could see the edge of his beloved's face. Since then in the days when the temperature is high, it is that the sun shines with all its intensity and you can see the silhouette of the Moon on the horizon because the Sun wants to look at its beloved Moon from afar. ” Joanne finished.

“And Aphrodite wanted them to touch, Aphrodite wanted them to become one with the other, when the two lovers merge back into one body, if only for a brief moment…to make the most beautiful art, we see it in the sky, a total eclipse of two hearts merging into one soul,” y/n let out a tear. “I want to believe now... that my grandparents are finally in their eclipse, I finally believe that this eclipse will be eternal,” said y/n. “The sun has risen up to his moon.”

Some of them smiled, y/n’s mother shed a tear, and looked down. There were some other people saying their goodbyes, nothing like y/n’s. A few people approached her after the funeral.

Tom was right by her side, all the time. Squeezing her arm if she ever needed assurance, and holding her hand if he saw her play with it. A lot of people said their condolences. Words that’d go into the void. Y/N was...calm.

And not the type of calm she’d been at the beginning of the summer, which was calm confused with passiveness, and lack of energy and interest. No, she was truly in a sense of peace.

After receiving the news, Tom had seen her, sinking to the ground to hug her sister. Y/N had told him that she was always the one to comfort Joanne, since they were children, so when it was time for Joanne to comfort her, she didn’t have a clue. And Tom had seen y/n, excusing herself from Joanne, saying she’d call their mother. But Tom had seen her walk out of the lighthouse to sob by herself. Haz told Tom to go and calm her, Tom knew better, to leave her alone.

Tom was sad, too. But this was not his sorrow. He saw her doing it again, excusing herself from everyone.

“Y/N, I’m sorry for your loss, your grandfather was fantastic.”

“James would always brighten up my day.”

“I’m very sorry.”

“My condolences.”

Words that were barely sticking to y/n. Tom just saw her smile to them, and hug her sister. Joanne was devastated.

She walked into one of the halls of the church, it was dark, and nobody could see her.

Tom followed after her this time. “Y/N?” He called out for her as she gulped down a sob.

“Yeah?” She tried to clean up her tears with a blue handkerchief. Her pop’s handkerchief. “Sorry, I was just--”

“It’s okay to cry, you know?” Tom walked over.

Y/N sighed. “I know, I know… I just, I’ve been the girl who’s sad for so long, maybe right now, I just, need to be the strong one. For my mum, for Joanne.”

Tom cupped her cheek, it was still dumped from her tears. “You said it yourself, you can let yourself be blue.”

Y/N sighed. “It’s easy,” she sighed. “I guess what I’m trynna say is...I’m sad, but I’m okay, I’ll get through this. I meant what I said.”

“The sun and the moon?” He asked.

“Was it...bad?”

“You once turned everything beautiful,” Tom assured her. “Your pops once told the story to me, that’s why he had a chain with a Sun around his neck, and … I assume that your nana wore the moon… Which one are you wearing around your neck?”

Y/N smiled, just slightly as she pulled it out from under her shirt, the Sun. “Yes,” she gulped and licked her lips. Her eyes blurred down with tears. “I just-” And then her voice was breaking. “I just… I can’t help but feel guilty, I came over here to visit him and I… barely spent time with him because-” And she couldn’t finish her sentence before she was crying against Tom’s chest.

Tom didn’t say anything, he knew it. With her, he should stay quiet, he should let her speak.

Especially because Tom was feeling guilty. “This was not how the Summer was supposed to end,” she managed to say before catching her breath.

He hugged her, because, it was all he could do.

She cried, just for a bit longer. She was joined by her family then.

And Tom knew he had to give her space. Because Tom knew that part of trying to mourn a death comes with guilt and comes with blaming other people. Tom believed he’d be blamed. But he also knew y/n was full of guilt because he hadn’t been on the surfing competition. Not that it mattered, but y/n had blamed her crying on that. Saying that he should continue with his life, that he needed to continue it.

It made Tom think. Everything y/n had said.

Especially about the sun, and the moon. How they were always apart from each other, how the moon wasn’t present sometimes. How sometimes, it faded out, leaving only a dark sky, with stars shining out. How each night the Sun had to die in order for the Moon to shine. And he knew that story by heart, because he had heard it about a million times, too. Whenever he was helping Pops with that blue Aston Martin. He’d always tell it.

And y/n had told the short version. She didn’t tell everything the two lovers had to face once they were separated.

How the Sun, due to Hera’s wishes and burning jealousy, was transformed into a god, so he’d be admired. And she turned the moon into the darkness, so everyone would avoid seeing her, and so no one could admire their beauty. Hera would say it, the moon’s hideous and should be feared.

And everyone loved the Sun, how everyone wanted to warm up with him, and how it would bring life to their homes, inviting them to bathe in the ocean. The moon, instead, brought cold and uncertainty, making the ocean big and scary.

And everyone enjoyed the presence of the sun, while people would hide for the moon. For a moment, the lovers forgot about each other, granting Hera’s wishes to separate them. And the moon missed her lover, and she just wanted to be seen. Just a fresh air in the midday sky.

And Aphrodite had been a fan of their love, so he brought the moon to the middle of the day, where the Sun would see her, and only her. And it just took him a glance to remember everything, her embrace, and the way she shined even when everything was dark. And he fell in love with her again, with the parts that are seen and the parts which she hid. And the sun would shine a little less bright sometimes to see her up there, to let hear breath in the middle of the day.

The Sun asked to touch her again, to feel her. Because they were once one, and know they were two whole parts of a heart, willing to skim with each other. And so their wish was granted, but Aphrodite’s power wasn’t as powerful, but their love was, and it’d grow stronger each time they were apart just making them both look forward to their next encounter.

Tom liked that story, he had always wanted to have an epic story. Maybe he wasn’t the sun, or the moon, but maybe he was a star, shining over, that maybe was passed by, probably unnoticed.

But y/n saw him.

Like no one did. Like the bright, small star he was. But she saw him.

So it was no surprise that he saw her, too. And he had gone to her, and he had taken her away, to the valley, to the shack, to the lighthouse. To places where y/n could be blue. And to places where he could bring her to his arms. Places where y/n didn’t have to play strong.

A day came when he went in search for her, in one of those days when he knew she’d be feeling cold. It had been raining. The lights were reflected on the pavement from the water that was silking his path.

Joanne had said she was gone.

And Tom feared. Just a little. Because there was a part of him that though that maybe she had thought about it. That maybe she wasn’t strong enough.

Maybe she had to let him go before the worse could happen.

And he was having second thoughts about his big decision. Because going to London, meant having chemos, and getting chemos was trading his life for more years. That’s the way he saw it. Getting the life sucked out of him so he would get more chance to live. Talk about a contradiction.

And Tom knew he didn’t have to pull out the cancer card, not now, not now that y/n was going through her sorrow. Which was incredibly calm.

Because even when he took her to her freedom, she didn’t overreact, she never sobbed. She would be… quiet.

And Tom was afraid. Because he remember what Joanne had told him a year before, how y/n wasn’t the one to drastically cry or yell, like Joanne did. No, y/n was… distant. Y/n, according to Joanne, is able to heal if she yells and cries and sobs. When she doesn’t, then, things are going down.

And he was scared that it’d bring her to her doom. He remembered the quiet girl he had met, and how Tom wouldn’t be there to help her.

That’s why he had to stay, for longer. As long as he could.

That day, when she wasn’t home and she hadn’t told him where she’d gone, the first thing he did was stare into the garage. He confirmed it.

The blue Aston Martin wasn’t there. But the Aston Martin wasn’t fully working, and with this rain? Y/n was probably stuck in a place.

Although, she hadn’t called anyone for help, he knew she was stubborn enough to not ask for it.

Tom picked up some towels, and blankets and he knew he had to search for her.

Maybe it would become a tradition, to look after the other in the rain. And the sky was so dark, so dark, he couldn’t see the sun or the moon.

The only lights came from the lightning, and the only music he was hearing was the thunder clapping. The road was muddy, and not clear enough.

He couldn’t find y/n. But he… had a certain feeling. So he went to the blue valley.

And there, he saw her. Leaning against the old blue Aston Martin, letting the rain soak her down from head to toe. She had her arms crossed and was wearing a hoodie she had borrowed from Tom.

She had been crying. Which was, a good sign, Tom knew. Y/N was letting it out.

Tom approached her and pulled down the window. “Hello, lady, do you need any help?” He asked, as y/n looked up, with a small smile, as droplets of rain were pouring down her face.

“Do you happen to know anything about cars, mister?” Y/N looked up as she approached to the window. Tom reached out to cup her face.

“I do know I have one where you won’t get wet,” Tom laughed. “C’mon get in.”

Y/N blinked as she stepped back. She laughed but then smirked. “Well, I wouldn’t be bragging about not getting a woman wet.”

Tom’s eyes widened. “What?” He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He burst out in laughter.

Y/N chuckled. “I don’t...I don’t know.”

“And just so we’re… Clear, we haven’t had any trouble with that,” Tom winked at her. “Now get in the car.”

She giggled as she shook her head. “Let me enjoy the rain.”

Tom sighed. “Alright.” He parked right in front of her car and stepped out with her.

“Stop, you might get sick.”

Tom chuckled. “Can’t get any more sick,” he said as he walked over to her with open arms.

She snuggled close to him. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I am living my favorite bedtime story,” she confessed.

“The sun and the moon?” Tom wondered.

Y/N smiled. “Yeah, just...another version.”

Tom raised his eyebrows. He kissed her forehead. “How long have you been here?”

“A bit, I wasn’t planning on… the car stopping.” She chuckled. “But my phone ran out of battery and I…”

Tom smiled.

“And I decided I might as well enjoy the rain.”

“Why did you take the Aston Martin? You knew it wasn’t ready,” Tom pushed.

“I guess, because I thought it’d give me answers,” she shrugged. “I realized, I don’t even know the questions.”

The rain was silking their clothes as they stayed hugging each other. Y/N felt Tom rubbing her back, as the riveting rattling from the raindrops were harmonizing to them.

“Besides,” she looked up at him. “Maybe I was hoping a surfer would rescue me again from a car malfunction.”

He chuckled. “You were so annoyed to see me that one time.”

“I was.”

Tom frowned. “Angel!”

She laughed. “I didn’t like you! I can’t lie about that,” she admitted.

He lifted her chin and placed a soft peck on her lips.

“Weird thing, because I felt like I loved you even before I met you,” Tom declared. She grinned.

“How wonderful life is, now you’re in my world,” she whispered as she connected her lips with his.

Tom rested his forehead against hers.

She smiled. “You know… The car might not work… But the radio does,” she grinned. “Would you dance in the rain with me?”

Tom grinned. “Really?”

She chuckled as she reached inside the old Aston Martin.

“I don’t know what will play, though,” she admitted. “It...is…let me see if I can work it out.”

Tom laughed watching her. “Need any help?”

She tried pressing the buttons, and a loud scratch was heard. Tom laughed.

But then a few notes playing on a piano were heard. Y/N smiled and chuckled to herself sadly. The biggest irony, or coincidence, or… magic.

Tom felt his heart warm up as soon as he heard the piano notes and listened to the familiar tune.

Love Me Tender. Elvis Presley.the first song they’d ever danced to.

Y/N felt a tear falling down her cheek, Tom was quick to wipe it. Y/N got out of the car again as she took Tom’s hand in hers.

He pulled her closer.

“You know, for someone who told me he didn’t dance. You sure have been dancing a lot with me,” she chuckled, as he wrapped his arms around her, letting the song move them.

“And for someone who claims not to like me you sure have been proving me wrong,” he grinned.

She blushed.

“Things have changed, this summer was more than I could ask for,” she admitted. “But the summer is over now.”

Tom hugged her closely. “The summer is over.”

“Is this a goodbye?” She asked with fear. It felt like suddenly asking made the rain turn into snow. They turned cold and suffocated.

Tom shook his head. “It’s—it’s a new beginning.”

They sang under their breath. “Love me tender, love me true. All my dreams fulfil. For my darling, I love you, and I always will.”

They danced along under the rain as the song played in the background, merging with the raindrops and just accentuated by the thunder. It seemed like the melody was prettier under the rain, it sounded more natural.

And though the skies were grey and the dirt was brown, they were seeing light surrounding them.

They grinned and clumsily danced, feeling their bodies against the other. Knowing there would never be twice a love like theirs, not ever.

The song finished and they shared a single kiss, under the rain.

They got into the old Aston Martin. They needed to stay quiet, for a bit, take at the moment. Because maybe they hadn’t realized it until then. But the summer was over. The summer was coming to an end and they didn’t have anything planned.

“The summer went by fast,” she whispered.

Sure, Tom has said he’d go to London. Easier said than done. There needed to be planning and there needed to be love. But there was barely any time, and Tom didn’t know if he needed to continue with it.

He needed to sort out everything. Especially, because he was feeling so… selfish. Because right now, it was the summer ending, but later? How could he know about the future? There was no easy way to say it, the possibilities of him staying were ceasing.

Tom gulped. “Can you… can you turn on the heating?” He asked her.

“Oh shoot, right, sorry…” She gulped, as she tried to start the car.

“Don’t you wanna head home?” He asked her.

She shook her head. “No, I don’t… I… I need to get this back running.” A sudden sense of urgency got into y/n who tried to re-start the car several times, she was breathing quickly. She was not listening to Tom.

“Y/N, it can’t be fixed, not right now! Not with this rain, look tomorrow… I’ll bring down a truck and take it to the shop.”

“No, no, I need to fix it, it can’t be… broken forever,” she cried. She got off the car as the rain was getting worse and worse. She was muttering to herself, that she needed to get it done.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Tom was behind her. “Angel, love, c’mon.”

“The car… I need to… I need to get it back running, I was so… distracted with dancing that I forgot I was trying to get it back on, I was supposed to get it back running but I--” She started to shake as she was talking and mumbling to herself. She had opened the bonnet and just stared at everything. She had closed it and opened it several times.

“Tom... I need to fix this,” she sobbed. “The car… I was… I shouldn’t get distracted, I…”

And Tom understood why the sudden urge to repair the car, this wasn’t about the car. He took her in his arms.

“Y/N, angel, calm down,” he mumbled into her ear. “Angel, angel.”

But she didn’t hug him back, she fell to the ground instead, desperately sobbing, while Tom could do nothing but hold her tight. Although he wasn’t feeling well, and the rain was getting much worse by the moment.

Tom couldn’t make this about him, y/n needed him. But he hadn’t been feeling well. Not since the morning. And before he knew it, he was falling down to the mud.

Next thing he knew, he woke up to yelling. He barely opened his eyes but he saw them. Y/N and his mother.

“What were you thinking? He can’t be in the rain!” She said. “It’s your fault he’s here… He was doing fine, and everything he’s done lately circles around you!”

Y/N stepped back, “I’m...I’m very sorry.”

“Mum, no,” Harry stepped in. “She’s been of great help! She got Tom to go back on therapy!”

Nikki closed her eyes. “But Tom’s lost his mind, everything he does is stupid and pathetic and she keeps on making him do all these stunts!”

Y/N looked away.

“He climbed a Ferris wheel! He risked his life,” Nikki was being irrational. Tom watched them, knowing better. He knew his mother didn’t mean all of that, but that was the reaction they’d get whenever Tom got into trouble. You can’t blame her, the woman’s desperate. Her son is ill. Her son is dying. And she had grown fond of y/n but there were many things she disapproved of their relationship, mostly including things which Nikki found inappropriate for a kid with cancer to do.

“I’m very sorry,” y/n said again. “Mrs Holland I… I’m very sorry.”

“It’s alright, dear, he’s fine,” Dom intruded. Nikki glared at her husband. “He’s fine,” he assured her. “I just talked to the nurse, he just needs rest, he’s dehydrated, nothing with his vitals, he’s fine. They’ll just keep him at bedrest tonight in to check him in.”

Y/N looked down. “I’m really sorry.”

Tom saw her leave and frowned. Harry sighed as he followed after her.

“I’ll… I need to talk to Dr. Green.” Dom said before walking off.

Nikki frowned and then turned into the room, seeing Tom was awake. “Oh, thank god!” She said as she rushed to him to take his hand. “You’re so cold--”

“Mum-”

“You shouldn’t be out there--”

“Mum, I know!”

Nikki stepped back.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not, I saw you this morning, you looked pale.”

Tom looked away. “Yes, yes I know, but it was my fault, not y/n’s, okay?” He looked her in the eyes. “Y/N is not the one who’s put me in this, mother, alright? Neither are you.”

“But if only you hadn’t been in the rain-”

“You heard dad, it’s not the rain, I was dehydrated, that’s on me, okay?” Tom closed his eyes. “I try to ignore it okay? Yes, I knew I was feeling bad… But I simply ignored it. Because it had to be about y/n, because all summer has been about me! It’s always her worrying, and it’s always her making me feel normal, it’s always her trying to make me forget, and I can’t-... I can’t keep on shielding her from being normal herself, alright? ”

Nikki blinked.

“This had nothing to do with the rain, and I’m sorry mum, but today, it had to be about her, because she has to act tough with all of this, and I… I saw her, she feels guilty, because she was supposed to spend time with her grandpa and all she did in the summer was take care of me.”

Nikki took his hand in his. “I’m--”

“I love her, mum, and she’s made me see things I hadn’t before, alright?” Tom continued. “And I know I’ve done some pretty stupid stuff for her, but I… I’ve also realized many things.”

Nikki sighed.

“I’m sorry--”

“I know, I know it’s hard mum…. But, don’t blame it on her, especially not now.”

Nikki gulped down her guilt. She had snapped at y/n without any reason, honestly. She knew that. And Tom knew it. It was the biggest side-effect his illness had brought. His calm and loving mother losing her senses. This hadn’t been the first time they had their differences shown. It seemed like both of them had a very different approach to Tom’s illness.

“I’m just trying to protect you,” Nikki said.

“And…dad too, and Harry, and Sam, even Jared” Tom sighed. “You know, everyone has a saying on what I should feel like, on what I should do, but no one understands it, because none of you...You all forgot about it, didn’t you?”

“Forget what?”

“I forgot it, too. That I’m still Tom.” Tom pushed. “She made me remember.”

“I never forgot…”

“No, ma, but you did,” Tom sighed. “I… I feel like my life changed, everyone turned to see me, I suddenly became someone always watched and every one pitied me, and… Then she came around, and she made me realize I’m more than pills, I’m more than this.”

“You’ve always been, Tom,” Nikki assured him.

“But… for a while, ma, I hadn’t felt it, I hadn’t felt alive, I was just… a dead man living,” he explained. “And suddenly she came, with that sketchbook of hers and that paintbrush and she just… Painted me, she painted back the colour on me.”

Nikki smiled.

“Yes, I know I’ve done some pretty stupid things, but… I realized I should, because I’m young, alright? I should be doing that kind of stuff, I should be dancing with her in the rain, and I should continue to climb on Ferris Wheels, burst into songs and for a moment… Forget about this, alright?”

“I’m… going to apologize to her.” Nikki stood up as she looked around the room, she picked up some blankets.

She went through the halls that she knew by heart, already. She had been harsh. She had let it all overcome it, because everything had grown. But to be fair, her nerves were constantly on a spike. Just waiting for the worst. Always living a nightmare. Hiding from everyone so no one could see her tears.

She went to the cafeteria, ordered two coffees. Nikki feared y/n had left. But for her surprise, she hadn’t. She was at that old blue waiting room with her clothes still soaking. Her head was on her hands.

“I have to apologize to you,” Nikki said as she handed her a coffee and covered her with the blanket.

“No, I get it, it’s my fault, I’m very sorry” Y/N said with tears on her face.

“No, no I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” Nikki side hugged her. “You’ve only helped Tom.”

“I… I sorry, I forgot he shouldn’t be in the rain today, I just…” She gulped. “I was… I was…”

“You were making my son feel alive,” Nikki admitted. “And that’s what you’ve been doing all summer. You meant well and I guess… I haven’t been fair on you, your grandpa just passed, I should have--”

“No, it’s alright, really, I get it,” Y/N gulped. “It’s difficult to remain calm. I didn’t today.”

“What happened then?” Nikki turned to her.

“I actually couldn’t… I guess the same thing that happened with you, denial, trying to blame it on someone else,” Y/N confessed. “That’s when it happened, I… I was so distracted again that I didn’t see Tom wasn’t feeling well.”

“It’s not your fault,” Nikki told her.

“I don’t know… I think Tom and I were very irresponsible this summer,” y/n pointed out as she took a sip from her coffee.

Nikki shook her head. “No, you’ve been young”

Y/N gulped as she shrugged. “I guess we were both trying to forget our life, I tried to forget the reason why I came here because I didn’t want to accept it.”

Nikki waited for her to continue.

“I was the only one who knew that pops was sick… And I used to snap that way before, because I tried to avoid it. I tried to forget about it, but, it can’t be ignored for much, we were supposed to see pops all summer because we knew that day would come,” y/n conffessed.

“I’m sorry.”

“But I guess I thought that if I tried to forget it, it wouldn’t happen…If I avoided it, it would… fade out?” Y/N sighed shaking her head. “And I think that’s what Tom’s been doing, forget about it.”

Tom’s mother sat back, realizing how well this stranger knew her son. How could she not see it? How had she been blind all this time?

“But it can’t go away.”

“No, it can’t,” Y/N agreed.

“That doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be happy, that shouldn’t mean he is not Tom anymore,” Nikki sighed.

“Your son will never stop being him,” y/n said. “He’s a fighter,” she continued taking Nikki’s hand in hers. “And he’s just like sunlight, warming up everyone.”

Nikki smiled. “He is.”

“And he will keep on fighting,” y/n assured him. “And I want to be with him, I want to help him fight.”

“He doesn’t want to keep fighting,” Nikki sighed. “I’ve tried-”

“He’s going to London, Nikki,” y/n sentenced. “He promised me.”

Nikki’s eyes widened as she looked at her. “What?”

“He’s the sun, and he will keep on shining.”

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blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk · 4 years

Note

CAN I GET ME SOME PETER FROM BOC? (I promise he's overage ajdjfjff) he has no content and he's just,,,adorable 🥺

listen here, I’m now head over heels for Peter and I’m blaming you

WHAT A MAN,,,

I hope this doesn’t disappoint, it’s full of feels and there is a LOT to unpack here! I based it on this set of headcanons I did a while back wherein someone saved the circus members and nursed them back to health, so that person (tho I went with a lady) is this reader’s boss

also this got WAY longer than I meant it to but considering the absolutely criminal lack of Peter content, I don’t think you’ll mind

Sometimes, on nights when it’s warm, you’ll find those two sitting in the courtyard behind your employer’s manor.

(Mistress) never told you what the story was with these circus performers, and as far as you know, she’s never told any of the other servants either. Hell, she may not even know herself. If PETER and Wendy are anything to go by, this lot doesn’t open up easily. They’ve all been living here for six months, and the only thing you really know is that (Mistress) took them in after finding them horribly injured, that Peter and Wendy are basically adults stuck in bodies which never matured, and that they used to be trapeze artists in their troupe.

They’re both very hard to read, though Wendy is marginally friendlier than her brother. The two of them seem closer to each other than even to the other members, and the whole lot of them keep to themselves, perhaps trying to avoid the household’s staff entirely, so you’ve not had much interaction with any of them.

These two, though? They intrigue you; Peter in particular. He seems on edge all the time, a shock that so much anger seems to exist in someone so small. Even if you didn’t trust their word that these two aren’t children, you would know he was an adult. No child is that angry all the time without any discernible reason.

You just want him to be able to relax. Whatever the reason he’s always ready to fight, he would be so much less stressed if he could let go of it just a little bit. Doesn’t he know he and his sister are safe here? Don’t they all know that? If they don’t, someone ought to clue them in.

When you step out into the courtyard, the balmy night air welcomes you.

There they are, the two of them, and Wendy looks to be lying down in the grass. Sleeping, maybe? It’s late, but not past midnight quite yet. (Mistress) has no strict rules for her staff nor her guests except that she would prefer everyone be inside the manor by midnight. Oddly enough, unlike anyone else you have ever worked for, she’s very concerned with everyone’s safety.

The grass rustles between your feet as you walk. The closer you get, the more Peter’s shoulders seem to shoot up toward his ears; indeed, until they’re buried in his hair. Wendy, on the other hand, only moves by breathing, so she’s definitely asleep.

After a moment of standing, staring at the sky, you lower yourself onto the ground next to Peter. Close enough that you could touch him, far enough that, hopefully, he doesn’t feel crowded. “Lovely night,” you hum, crossing your legs. “It’s nice when there are no clouds at night. You can see the moon so well. Lady (Mistress) is happy someone is finally enjoying the courtyard. She’s never really been one for stargazing or―”

“Oh, what the bloody ‘ell d’you want?!” Peter interrupts you before you can even finish your sentence. His voice is harsh, not loud, likely because he doesn’t want to wake Wendy. “Did y’ come out ‘ere just ta talk me ta death?!”

His bad attitude is still a bit surprising to you, but to have such rude comments coming from such an innocent-looking mouth is no longer the shock it once was. “Well… it wasn’t my intention, no. I’m sorry.” You tilt your head at him. “Do you want me to leave?”

The look he gives you is equal parts incredulous that you’ve said such a thing and sorely tempted by the offer. At last, his face contorts into a scowl, his head jerking back down to the grass he’s yanking out of the ground. “That ain’t what I said. Just stop prattlin’ on about nothin’.”

A moment passes in silence, then you reach over to tear out a couple blades of grass yourself. It’s not that you pretend to understand why he’s doing it, but you want to show him that whatever he’s doing, you’ll join him if he wants, even if you don’t know the reason why.

“… What should I prattle on about, then?” you speak up once he seems to have calmed down a little. “I started with the sky, but… I get the feeling you’re not actually out here to look at the sky. Not as dumb as I look, you know.”

Peter huffs, and a small sigh comes from Wendy as she turns over in her sleep.“So, y’ saw a bloke what didn’t wanna be bothered, ‘n’ y’ came out ‘ere ta bother ‘im, is what y’re sayin’?”

A small shrug is what he gets from you before you say anything else. “Well, no, I’m not trying to bother you. I just wanted to see how you’re doing… if you’re settling in alright. Wendy seems pretty comfortable.”

He snorts, the bitter look from earlier taking over his face again. “We ain’t ‘settlin’ in’. We ain’t gonna be ‘ere longer’n a year, I’ll bet, if we even make it that long.”

“Why do you think that? Lady (Mistress) says she likes you all and that you’re welcome to―”

He lets out a violent grunt as he pulls a clump of grass blades from the ground. They’re tossed down in short order, accompanied by a growl. “(Mistress) don’t know nothin’ ‘bout us! Y’ think she’d want us ‘ere if she knew the truth?! Y’ think anyone’d want us anywhere if they knew the truth?!” He presses his hands into the dirt, digging it under his frayed fingernails, and hisses furiously. “There’s a reason we were left ta fuckin’ die ― because we should be dead! We’re BAD PEOPLE, (Name)!”

Now his voice has gotten louder, causing Wendy to stir and make noises of what sounds to you like distress. You scoot over a bit, reaching around Peter to give a few soft pats to her shoulder. Then you turn your attention back to Peter. “… You’re not,” you say softly. “You in particular, you’re a little rough around the edges, but you’re not… bad.”

You shift around some to get more comfortable. When you cautiously set your hand on top of Peter’s, he flinches, but ultimately lets your fingers stay where they are. “Even if you were bad… you’re not the only bad people to ever exist. You don’t deserve to die.”

“What d’you know?” he grinds out lowly. “Y’ don’t know nothin’ ‘bout us either. Don’t know nothin’ ‘bout me. Y’ don’t get ta make that judgment.”

“Then what judgment am I fit to make?” If you sound frustrated by now, it’s because you are. Why does he seem so insistent about this? Doesn’t he think that if they all should have died, they would have? “Do my feelings really mean that little to you? Does what I think really not matter to you? Because whatever else you may be, good or bad or somewhere in between ― I’m glad to have you here. Perhaps this comes as a surprise to you, Peter, but I happen to like your company, and Wendy’s, and the others’.”

You curl your fingers around his, tightly, securely. “If you should have died, then God wouldn’t have let you live. You’re still alive for a reason.” Despite that you move closer to him, he doesn’t pull away. “You’ve all been given a second chance. Regardless of whether or not you think you deserve it, you have it. And you’re prepared to spend it feeling sorry for yourself, saying you don’t deserve it, instead of doing something with it?”

What surprises you is that he wraps his fingers around yours in response, holding your hand as if you’re his last connection to life. When he looks up at you, his expression is old enough to betray his youthful face. “Y’ don’t know what y’re talkin’ ‘bout, (Name). We shouldn’t ‘ave this chance in the firs’ place. It should’ve gone ta someone else. Y’ don’t know us, er what we done, er anythin’ else. Y’ don’t know… me.”

“But I want to.” Something strange thrums in your chest, your heart fluttering against your ribcage. “I don’t know you because you won’t let me. None of you will let any of us in even the smallest bit. Meanwhile, Lady (Mistress) and I and some of the others… we want to know you. Whatever that means. Even if there are things about you that aren’t pleasant. We like you. I like you. How do you know we wouldn’t accept you if you won’t give us the chance?”

What comes out of his mouth is a mix of a scoff and a laugh. That look in his eyes is so dark and tired you don’t know what to make of it. “Lord, y’know, I never met anyone like y’. Mos’ people don’t want us anywhere near ‘em, even the parts of us that ain’t so bad. But y’re tellin’ me, y’ expect me ta believe ― y’ actually want the bad parts?”

You lean even closer, almost desperate that you’ve come so close to potentially getting him to open up and be vulnerable with you. “Yes,” you breathe. So close you are now, your noses are almost touching. “I want the bad parts. I want the good parts. I want all of you. Is that so crazy?”

“Yeah!” This time it’s a full-blown laugh, though it’s so mirthless, he nearly sounds closer to crying than laughing. “That’s very crazy! Y’ oughta be locked up in some asylum! It ain’t enough yer lady took us in, but y’re tellin’ me y’ actually want every single part of me? Y’ take a look at me lately, ‘uh? I ain’t no gentleman! I ain’t refined, I ain’t sweet… I mean, damn, I look like a little kid!”

The tip of your nose presses to his. “You’re not, though. You’re not a boy,Peter; you’re a man.” You get the feeling very few people acknowledge that about him. He looks like a child, so he must be!

“And I don’t care about refined or sweet… and anyway, who says I want a gentleman?” Your hand stays in his, and your other arm snakes around his shoulders. “What I want is you. I understand if you can’t… or don’t want to… give me all of you. Or any of you. But… no matter anything else… know that there’s someone who will take every part of you. There are people here who want to accept you… if you’d only let us in. You’re not alone.”

Peter lets out a shuddering breath, and you can feel its heat against your lips. His hand clutches yours with such ferocity that his arm is shaking. After a long, long moment, his other hand comes to rest against your waist. How long must it have been since anyone’s treated him as the adult he is ― how long must he have been holding himself back so that he doesn’t make people angry or uncomfortable? “Stop,” he murmurs, and his hand bunches the fabric against your waist in a fist. “Stop bein’ so… good. I can’t… I can’t take it. Jus’ gonna make it ‘urt more… when we get chased outta ‘ere…”

He presses his forehead against yours, his chest heaving as if he’s using his whole strength to stave off the sobbing he’s already been holding back for his whole life. “… If I open up… if y’ do accept me… ‘n’ then I ‘afta leave y’ be’ind…” He’s still holding himself so tensely, wound so tight that he could snap at any moment.

“… I can’t…”

That he gives no resistance when you push forward and kiss him is something you didn’t expect. The way he leans into the touch, bowing to you with a stunning softness you weren’t sure he possessed, speaks volumes about how much he needs someone to embrace his whole self. He seems to even lose himself in your approval for what feels like an eternity.

You draw away, only to be pulled back in against him for another kiss. This one is rougher, hungrier, with a neediness that’s somehow the same as the first kiss and yet wildly different. It’s the kiss of a man who just wants to be wanted, who has tasted that someone desires him and became addicted to that in an instant.

When he pulls you back, you’re only too happy to submit to his wants. You can feel his hand at your waist, his fingers fanning out from that fist so they are splayed against your side.

As soon as you come up for air, you move your arm from his shoulders to let your hand rest on his cheek.

“Don’t worry, Peter,” you whisper as if you can quiet all his fury and anxiety with just those words. “You’re not going anywhere.”

#Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Peter #reader insert #drama #suggestive #hurt/comfort #I'm just?? he's such a good boy????#I fell for him and I can't get up pls do not help me #queued

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cle1024 · 6 years

Text

slow dancing in the dark | bc

member: bang chan

genre: angst

summary: i told you that there’s nobody else for me, but you can’t tell me the same thing.

warnings: swearing, mentions of smoking

a/n: i recommend listening to this song while you read

The cigarette sparked brightly as you breathed in deeply under the raven moonlight. Your eyes crystallised under the moon, observing the curvature of the shining white crescent. It was so far away, millions and millions of miles from your reach, yet in this moment it felt so close. Almost like you could reach out and run the tips of your fingers along the rough surface, only to be pulled away by the strain of your arm. There had been nights in the past where you sat out here, the same brand of cigarettes between your lips as you laughed into the moonlit sky. You weren’t alone in those times. You had someone to smile with you, share your cigarettes and trace the circulatory shape of the moon into your bare thigh. But it would be the same person who broke all their promises.

I don’t wanna go home.

Chan’s dark hair danced in the breeze as he leaned his upper-half on the balcony fence. His curls ruffled as the wind passed by, tangoing down the street to touch the bodies of others. He turned to you with a sparkle in his eyes, brighter than the headlights of cars passing below or the lights reflecting through the windows of offices adjacent to the apartment. A sigh of content passed his lips as he watched in a daze, taking in the heavenly sight of you doing the mundane activity of lighting a cigarette. The orange spark moved against your skin, tinted the surface with a bright hue. If he could stay in this moment forever, he would do it without a second thought.

Don’t follow me, you’ll end up in my arms.

Two weeks had passed since you had done this, but that content feeling had finally returned. Chan laid with his head on your chest, his back to your abdomen as you raked your nimble fingers through his thick curls. His lips parted to make way for the toxic stick of tobacco he had taken from you moments prior, the fumes inhaled deeply to his lungs before he blew the remnants out lightly. You licked your chapped lips before pressing a soft kiss to Chan’s head, an action that usually made him smile. Just because you couldn’t see it from your position, doesn’t mean it wasn’t there, right? The night was silent. It was devoid of car tires on the road or drunk people yelling and laughing. There was no movement or light in the air as misty clouds sheltered the supposedly full moon. At the time, nothing else seemed off about that night. A foolish assumption considering that was the night it all started.

Shutting me out.

| chan♡ : sorry baby i can’t make it tonight

Your cigarette packs emptied much slower now. Chan’s shoes were rarely left strewn by your front door, instead they stayed on his feet as he dragged his way around the office. Every night he was forced to work overtime before he would return to his small apartment and collapse on his bed. Usually, he would be walking into your apartment with half-lidded eyes, but you knew his was closer than yours. Your heart ached every time he blew you off, but you knew it was because he was busy. Chan was hard-working, so much so that it concerned you many times. Yet he spoke with so much confidence and reassurance when saying ‘I’m fine, baby’. Perhaps that was because he was fine. Work hadn’t been straining him or taking away the nights he wished to spend with you, he already had other engagements. They were the reason he refused to work overtime most nights, the reason he couldn’t make it to your house to lay in the moonlight with you. Those were the plans you had no clue about.

You looked at me like I was someone else.

Your skin heated under the pressure of the flame, your hand flinching back instinctively. The orange light flickered out as you loosened the grip of your thumb, lowering the lighter from your cigarette. It was a mistake you hadn’t made since you started slowly killing yourself with the tobacco sticks, but it was one you could easily make in your mindset. It was somewhere else, your mind. Perhaps it was circling the moon or dancing with the twinkling stars, perhaps it was weaving in and out of traffic or running down the busy streets. Wherever it was, it certainly didn’t plan on coming back to you soon. The thought plagued you infuriatingly. Surely it was just a typo, like he said. Chan never lied to you – in fact, you had convinced yourself at this point that he was more reliable than the family that raised you. Though, in the past weeks the words ‘reliable’ and ‘Chan’ seemed to oppose one another.

| chan♡ : r we still meeting at urs?

| what?

| chan♡ : oh sorry i meant to send that to jaeun

| chan♡ : jaehyun*

It had to be a mistake. Jaeun and Chan didn’t know each other well, she was just some girl Chan felt obliged to be friends with on Facebook because they worked in the same building. But, Jaehyun and Chan didn’t know each other well either. You remembered the one time Chan and Jaehyun went outside of work together was for a work-related party that Jaehyun drove Chan to. No, it didn’t matter who Chan was spending time with. He was a loyal and reliable boyfriend. He loved you.

Used to be the one to hold you when you fall.

The mark on his neck was prominent, carelessly on display to show he’d forgotten about it. It certainly wasn’t from your teeth, you’d remember something like that. You’d remember spending enough time with him to make a mark that noticeable, even in your drunkest hours. The sight of it sitting so mockingly, carefree on the side of his neck irked you to no end. Purples and reds blended together on the pale expanse of skin, making an infuriatingly beautiful creation. There was something about the way Chan looked with hickeys that infatuated you to no end, but knowing that this certainly wasn’t your doing made you sick. Not the kind of sick you get after an energizing sugar rush, but the kind of sick you get when you know something bad is happening. When the pit in your stomach opens and your mind screams at you to do something, anything. Yet, the question dies on your tongue before you can even mention it. Just one night of tranquillity with Chan, that’s all you ask for. You wouldn’t dare fuck it up with your burning questions, it was so much easier to bare the burden of thinking but not knowing. You weren’t sure if you were ready to know.

I don’t fuck with your tone.

Something was most definitely off on that night. Chan was snappy, quick to answer your questions with short responses and didn’t seem to take notice of what you were saying. Half of it was because he was too busy watching the ash of his cigarette fall to the surface below him, while the other half was because his eyes were glued to his phone. You couldn’t see the screen if he tried, his larger frame was hunched over the bright screen to hide whatever it contained. It can’t have been anything good, even you weren’t naïve enough to believe otherwise. A soft sigh passed your lips, “Chan, are you even listening?”

“(Y/N), can’t you see I’m busy?” He snapped back ferociously, looking at you with a mocking gaze. It embarrassed you, like a student getting told off for talking in the middle of class and feeling everyone turn to look at them. For some reason, you felt humiliated as you mumbled an apology, looking down at your twiddling thumbs. Chan stood from the chair, shoving his phone in his pocket as he approached the balcony fence to take one last drag. He mumbled as he fiddled with the remnants of the stick, “I have to go.”

“Can’t you stay a little longer?” You pleaded softly, watching as Chan crushed the cigarette under his shoes.

“No,” he spoke firmly before walking past you. You heard the door slam shut, your heart shattered a little. When did he become so cold?

I’m done fighting all night.

A shaky breath escaped your lips as the footsteps grew closer. Your eyes darted to your phone momentarily, rereading your sealed fate

| chan i need you to come over

| chan: baby i’m busy

| it wasn’t a request

“What is it?” Chan’s voice ripped through the cool air, his feet stopping not too far from your chair as you watched the moon sit idly. Maybe if you stayed quiet for long enough, he would sit with you and admire the moon – but you knew that wasn’t what you wanted.

The words spilled off your tongue before you could think about it, “I’m leaving you.”

The night fell silent, though not as unsettling as before. His eyebrows furrowed as he stepped closer, “what do you mean you’re leaving?” You withheld a scoff. His voice was controlled with concern and worry, but he only seemed to hear what he wanted. You weren’t leaving, you were leaving him. There was a stark difference in your mind.

“I mean,” your head turned to face him, expressionless, “I’m letting you crawl back to Jaeun without any interruptions.”

Chan freezed in his position – it had finally caught up with him. The guilt crushed him in that moment, weighing like a tonne of bricks on his muscular chest. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, a somewhat nervous habit you had picked up on. He only did it in extreme moments of not knowing what the fuck to do, “baby, I–”

“That’s not my name.”

“(Y/N), I promise you it’s a misunderstanding,” you stopped listening. There was a desire entrenched in you to hear him out, give him the benefit of the doubt, but all you could see as you stared into the distance was that ugly hickey from a month ago. You could see the notifications of texts claiming he was working late. All you could see were his lies and broken promises, right to your fucking face.

“Go.”

“I–I can’t leave you. I love you.”

A scoff passed your lips at his strained tone, “I’m sure you said the same thing to her.” You looked at him, soaking in his appearance for what you hoped would be the last time. The curly brown hair that you used to run your fingers through, his pale cheeks that used to crease into dimples when he smiled at you, his veiny hands that would hold you so delicately. But now he had someone else to do those things with, “if you really loved me, you wouldn’t have hurt me.” He tried desperately, but it was no use, you already knew enough, “just go.”

The slam of your apartment door rang through the night, you heaved a breath. It didn’t matter if you negotiated into the night, nothing would change. He would always go back to her. As night transitioned to day, the truth rose with the sun. The embers shone on your soul as you freed yourself from the toxic restraints you had felt in the months prior. No longer would you wait for Chan, no longer would you beat yourself up about missing him, no longer would he twist your heartstrings as he moulded lips with someone else. You ground your cigarette into the balcony as you squinted at the sun, your eyelashes contouring the outline of the sun to become more clear. A bitter chuckle passed your lips as you lowered your gaze to the streets below, bustling with life and opportunity. It became clear to you in that moment why both you and Chan idolised the night.

It was so much easier to hide in the dark.

I don’t wanna slow dance in the dark.

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids angst #bang chan #bang chan angst #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagine #angst #scenarios #kpop #stray kids bang chan #stray kids chan #slow dancing in the dark

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justkending · 5 years

Text

Knock, Knock. Chapter 31.

Chapter Summary: Things were going a little too nicely if we are being honest.

Pairing: (single) Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Cussing, Surprise Guest, Fluffy times.

Word Count: 2500+

A/N: Sorry it’s taken so long to get this out. I’m struggling with what I want to happen...

Series Masterlist

Part 31:

Yes, today was a busy day indeed. You were having a group of friends over for brunch to meet up before Jensen, and the rest of the cast and crew headed back to work from their hiatus. It was going to be a decent sized party, and there were quite a bit of preparations to be done.

Gen was nice enough to come early to help set up, and was very persistent on teasing you about the supposed ‘glow’ that you were giving off. You kept trying to wave her off, but somehow she managed to bring the conversation back around to it. Eventually, you caved and told her about the late night activities you had with Jensen. Keeping the really juicy details to yourself since you still liked your privacy.

“So you said I love you to each other?” she gushed putting a few pieces of cheese and crackers on a plate.

“Yes. The ‘I love you’s’ have been said.” you chuckled as you pre-made some mimosa for the guest that were coming within 10 minutes. “Hey, I’m going to run upstairs and get changed. Think you can handle any early guest coming? I think Jensen and Jared are still outside ogling over that table they made with the kiddos.”

“Yeah, I got it!” she smiled as she alined things. “You go get all gussied up. I’m sure Jensen can’t wait.” she teased.

“Shut your beautiful face.” you joked back as you headed for the stairs.

Luckily, you had already done your hair that morning, but you were still in your sweats from running around and getting the house ready for the party. Walking into your room, you looked over the two outfits you set out, and decided on the simple blue, off the shoulder, checkered sundress since it was extremely nice outside, and the sun was peeking out of the few clouds that were out.

You walked over to the vanity, and looked at your slightly curled hair seeing the original curls had fell, and figured it was a good day for an updo. So you gingerly placed it in a low messy bun, and pulled a few pieces out to frame your face and give it that worn out look.

You checked yourself over once more, and gave yourself a approving nod.

You walked out your bedroom door, and as soon as you turned the corner you ran into the firm chest of your boyfriend.

“Whoa! Funny running into you here.” He smirked as he grabbed onto your arms to help steady you.

“Dork.” you said playfully shoving him. “What are you doing up here? The crew should be showing up any second.” You said looking over at the stairs ready to pull him with you.

“Robert, Brianna, Kim and their families are here already actually.”

“The life of the party, of course. Guess the party has already started then.” you winked taking a few steps to head downstairs. Those few steps were cut off from Jensen grabbing your wrist and gently pulling you back to him.

“Wait a second.” he smiled.

“What going on?”

“I came up here for a reason. Come with me.”

“If this is something naughty Ackles, I don’t know how appropriate it is with the amount of people in our home.” you giggled.

“I like that.” he smiled still looking ahead.

“What? Naughty things?” you said quorking an eyebrow and still giggling.

“No, the fact you said ‘our home’. Has a nice ring to it.” he said looking back at you with the panty dropper grin.

You gave him a soft smile liking how it sounded yourself.

“Where are you taking me Jay? Seriously, we have guest.” you whined once you walked into his room.

“Once second you impatient toddler.” he laughed going through his end table. “Here.”

He turned around and in his hand held what looked like a case that held some form of jewelry. It was long and slender with a black velvet finish to it.

“Jens, what-”

“Open it.” he smiled pushing it toward you.

You slowly grabbed the box and looked up at him before opening it. He had a grin on that showed his excitement, and you felt a burst of joy just by seeing that face on him.

“You don’t have to buy me things Jensen. I’m not much of a material girl.” you giggled opening it and gasping at the necklace.

“I know you aren’t, but you are a meaningful girl.” he said looking down at it. “I mean- well you like things that have meaning. So, I figured I would get you something that was meaningful for me when I think of you.” he rambled. You could tell there were nerves behind him explanation. “Do you like it? Did I do good?” he sighed.

You pulled the gold chain out of the box and admired the little sun and moon that were intertwined together in the metal. There was a note that read the meaning behind it.

“Like the sun and moon, you make the world a brighter place. Wear this necklace as a reminder that your spirit, your love, and your light are my everything.”

“Jay… I-I don’t know what to say…” you breathed out holding on the medallion as you looked it over.

“So is that a ‘yes you like it,’ or a ‘what is this? This is stupid.’ look?” Jensen said nervous as he looked at your eyes for a clue.

You looked up with a slight gloss over your eyes, and a giant grin forming on your lips.

“This is beautiful, and so- so..” you laughed at the loss of words. “I love this. This really is something special Jensen.”

“So I did good?”

“You did more than good. Truly, I don’t know what to say.”

He laughed and grabbed your face before placing a kiss on your lips.

“I just found the perfect necklace that defines you in every way, and I had to get it.” he said staring back and forth between your eyes.

“Well, you really know how to make a girl feel special.” you laughed reaching up to give him a quick kiss. “Wanna help me put it on?”

“Absolutely.” he smiled taking it as you turned and moved any stray pieces of hair out of the way.

Once it was on you, he put his hands on your shoulders and gave you a squeeze. He leaned down kissing your bare shoulder and slowly inched his way up to your cheek.

You turned as his beard tickled, and threw your arms around his shoulders.

“It looks even better than I could have ever expected.” he said peppering you with kisses. “Are you sure we don’t have time for the ‘naughty’ stuff?” he pouted.

You laughed before pushing off of him and placing your hands on your hip.

“You were doing so well, and then you had to go and spoil it.”

“Ok, but in my defense, you look like that.” he said motioning to you. “It’s hard to keep my hands to myself.”

“Yeah, yeah Ackles. Well, unfortunately for you, I have a crowd of guest showing up that I have to entertain. You have to help with that you know?” you said turning and sashaying out of the room.

You heard him groan, and then his arms are wrapped around your waist.

“I love you.” he muffled into your shoulder before giving it one more kiss.

You turned in his grip and placed your hand on his chest.

“I love you too.” you smiled before standing on your toes to place a passionate kiss on his lips. “Let’s go. We have people to see, and alcohol to drink.” you shouted quickly racing for the stairwell knowing he wasn’t far behind.

Everything was going really well so far. Screwdrivers, mimosas, and other brunch like alcohol was being served and giving people just the right amount of bubbliness to keep the conversation going. The guys were outside showing off the table they had built for the boys, and Misha was going on about how he could still do better even though he lost the bet from a while ago. Everyone’s kids were outside enjoying the beautiful day playing tag, or playing with the toys they brought. Things were off to a great start, and everyone was having a great time catching up.

Everyone that was expected was here, so when the doorbell rang, you tilted your head confused as to who you were missing.

“Were you expecting anyone else?” Gen asked looking at the door with you.

“No. You?” She shook her head. “Hmm, maybe someone we thought couldn’t come changed their minds.” you shrugged headed to the door. “I’ll be right back.”

As you walked up to the door, you tried looking through the peephole but couldn’t since a sign you had hung up on the door was covering it.

As you swung it open, you were greeted with a beautiful redhead, and she was hanging on to some blonde hair guys arm.

“Hi, can I help you two?” you asked kindly not recognizing them.

“Hi, my name is Danneel, and there was supposed to be a party here today that we were asked to attend.” she said all cheerie.

Danneel. Oh my God. Jensen’s Ex. Wh-What was she doing here? How did she know there was a gathering? Why the hell was she on your front step giving you this devilish look that looked like it could cause trouble?

“Oh, I-I um-” the words weren’t coming out. You were frozen.

“Oh, sorry. You probably don’t know who I am. Jensen didn’t have maids when I lived here. If you don’t mind we can show ourselves in. I think we can manage.” she gloated as she pushed you aside and waltzed right in with the man still attached to her hip.

“I’m not- I don’t work-”

“Hey, honey Gen said that someone rang the doorbell? I thought everyone was-” Jensen’s voice said carrying in the room but you could hear him freeze at the doorway between the entrance and the living room.

“Hey Jay.” Danneel said in a devilish tone. “It’s good to see you again.”

“D-Danneel. Wh-what are you doing here?” he stuttered just as shocked as you were.

“I thought you said we were invited D.” the man next to her asked.

“We were.” she smiled at him before turning back to Jensen quickly. “They host this party every year before going back to set. It’s kinda a open invite thing.”

“An open invite to friends, Danneel. Not- not you.” Jensen gritted becoming angrier by the second.

“Hey, Jensen honey. It’s ok-” you said making your way over to him, and wrapping an arm around his stiff bicep before interlacing your fingers together. “Let’s go get a drink ok? I’ll have Gen-”

“Why is the hired help all over you Jay? Trying to get a couple extra bucks by sweet talking the boss?” she sassed turning hostile toward you.

All your head snapped toward her shocked. Even her arm candy that she had looked surprised.

“Excuse me?” you said quietly.

“Danneel!” Jensen shouted loud enough for everyone that was still in the living room to hear.

“What? That is what she is, isn’t she?” she said looking you up and down in disgust.

“Danneel, stop.” the man said.

She shrugged almost as if she were proud of herself.

“This is Y/N. My girlfriend.” Jensen explained pulling you closer to him and squeezing your hand.

Her smugness was immediately wiped off of her face, and replaced with jealousy.

“Your girlfriend? Hmmm. I thought I saw something about you dating in the tabloids, but they faded out so I suspected it was just rumors.” she huffed.

“We’ve been keeping it on the down low, but now I guess the cat’s out of the bag.” Jensen retorted realizing that he didn’t think it through before blurting it out.

“Guess so.” she said bitterly. She quickly changed her tone, and pulled the blonde closer to her by his waist and exaggerated leaning into him. “Well congrats I guess. If you’ll excuse me, I have some people to greet, and catch up with.” she started walking in to the living room where everyone turned their heads acting like they weren’t paying attention to the drama.

“You weren’t invited Danneel. Why are you here?” Jensen said deeply.

“This was never an invite only party Jay. This was always just a friendly gathering.” she smiled wickedly. “Why don’t we keep it that way?” with that she walked off swaying her hips as if she won, when in reality she just didn’t give Jensen the chance to fight back.

You were almost positive he was going to charge after her if it weren’t for your hands being intertwined. You pulled him back to you as his anger took over, and grabbed his chin gently to bring it back to you.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” you asked calmly. He hesitated watching her walk away all boastful, but eventually gave into your touch. “Everything is going to be alright. Ok? I need you take a deep breath right now though.”

He once again hesitated, but did as instructed.

“Good. Now tell me what’s going on.”

“You know how Danneel is my ex?” he breathed, you nodded. “Ever since we broke up, she’s tried making my life a living hell by coming back into it anytime I start to do better.”

“Ok, and how did she know about this?”

“Probably because we do this every year around this time. She probably mapped it out.” he huffed.

“Ok, well on the bright side, the party's almost over. People will be heading out soon, and that means she will be too.”

“I doubt she’ll make it that easy.” he mumbled looking back in the room where she had grabbed a mimosa and was introducing the guy she came with to others.

“Hey,” you said bringing his attention back to him. “I will make sure she leaves when everyone else does. We can come up with some excuse to get her out if we need to.” he smiled while you placed your hands on both sides of his face. “That or I will physically kick her ass out of here myself.”

“I fully believe you will do that.” he chuckled lightening up a little. “I will gladly watch too.”

“Damn right I will.” you smiled. “Just, stay with me, and we will keep a distance from her ok?” you asked tilting your head.

He took another deep breath before looking down at you and smiling. He leaned down giving you a quick but passionate kiss.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” you giggled. “Now let’s go host a kick ass party that will make her hate herself for coming here and trying to ruin your happiness.” you smirk, and he nodded wrapping his arm around your waist pulling you into his side as you walking back into the room full of guest. Even the unexpected ones.

Chapter 32

My lovelies:

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#SPN #SPN series #dean winchester #Jensen Ackles #jensen x reader #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles series #jensen ackles x y/n #justkending #ask justkending #knock knock #knock knock series #supernatural series

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motleyfuckingcruee · 5 years

Text

The Outsider (Nikki Sixx x Reader)

Chapter 4

Summary:

It's your first night on the streets of LA. You have just arrived and you have nowhere to sleep. You meet Nikki at a bar and he offers to let you stay with him. You are the outsider.

Warnings:

Language, fluff, abuse, considering smut

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!

YOU CAN READ CHAPTER THREE HERE

COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ON A TAGLIST! OR GO TO MY BIO TO ADD YOURSELF TO ONE!

It took you guys about two hours, but you finally found where Tommy's friend is playing. You walk in behind Nikki, keeping a strong grip on his hand. You really don't want to lose Nikki. You know how easily he can disappear in a crowd like this. You walk over to bar with Nikki and Tommy behind you. Mick went home. He said his back was hurting him too bad. You settle down on the stool. You look at the stage, trying to figure out who Tommy's friend is.

The lead singer actually isn't that bad. He's really attractive to. He's got blonde hair and moves that are driving the ladies wild. You nearly scoff to yourself. He's obviously a man whore.

Nikki's standing beside you. He wraps an arm around your shoulders. You lean your head against Nikki's side.

If you're honest, you just wanna head back to the apartment. You're already exhausted as it is. That phone call from Jared really got you worked up.

The band ends and Tommy runs up to the stage as fast as his gazelle legs can carry him. You giggle at how he runs.

Nikki kisses the top of your head. "I really think this is going to work."

"You think?" You ask, looking up into his green eyes.

He nods. "We have a kick ass guitar player and a fucking epic drummer. As long as we can find a good lead singer, we'll be set."

You smile, not sure what to say. You're so proud of him, words can't express it.

Tommy comes back to the bar with the blonde lead singer in tow. His eyes run over your body with a smirk on his lips. You roll your eyes, leaning further into Nikki.

"Guys, this is Vince," Tommy introduces, looking proud of himself. "I think he'd be great as the singer."

"Your voice ain't half bad, man," Nikki says, shaking Vince's hand. "I'm Nikki."

Vince nods, not taking his eyes off of you. "Who's this?"

Nikki's eyes narrow. You pray to whatever holy being that's above that Nikki won't attack Vince for just looking at you. His arm tightens around your body.

"I'm (Y/N)," You say, reaching out to shake Vince's hand.

Vince just smirks at you as Nikki glares at him. Does he not notice the death look Nikki has on his face?

"My girlfriend," Nikki nearly growls.

You nudge his side, trying to signal him to calm down. Nikki's eyes meet yours. You try to tell him to calm the hell down, but you have no clue if that's what he got from that look.

Tommy hands Vince a cassette tape, oblivious to Nikki's anger. "Here's our tape man," Tommy says. "Listen to it and call us."

Vince nods, his eyes still not leaving you. Vince sticks the tape in his pocket, finally looking at Tommy.

"You guys gonna hang around for a while?" Vince asks.

Nikki shrugs. "I don't see why not. It's not like we have much else to do."

You laugh, knowing it's true. The most you and Nikki will do is sit around the living room. He'll be working on some new songs whilst you're reading some book you found in the bookstore next to your work. That sure does tempting.

Vince leads the three of you over to a table. You all settle down. Somehow you end up between Nikki and Vince which only makes you feel a bit uncomfortable. It's one of those circular booths instead of the normal ones. Nikki has his hand securely on your thigh, rubbing comforting circles onto the clothes skin.

You lean into Nikki, not really wanting to speak. Vince and Tommy are engulfed in a conversation about their latest "scores". Meaning the girls they've slept with. You don't really mind their talk. You've heard a lot worse from Nikki before you guys started dating.

"What can I get you boys?" A waitress asks. You vaugely recognize the voice.

You roll your eyes. Anytime you're out with Nikki and Tommy, or just Nikki, if it's a woman waitress she usually just ignores you. But really, could you blame them? Nikki and Tommy are really attractive men. With Vince thrown into the mix you're sure that you'll never even get to place your order.

Nikki orders his usual, Jack Daniels, and Vince and Tommy decide to do shots. You roll your eyes at them, knowing that they'll have major hangovers tomorrow.

The waitress doesn't leave right away. You can hear her speaking to Tommy. Well, more flirting with him.

Nikki nudges your side. You look up at him with a small smile. He leans down and gives you a quick kiss. You're not going to lie, you wanted it to last longer.

"You alright, love?" Nikki asks.

You nod, forcing yourself to smile wider. "Yep. Just a bit tired is all."

Nikki opens his mouth, but the waitress speaks up.

"(Y/N)?!" She exclaims.

You look over and see someone you didn't expect to be here. Her blonde hair and revealing wardrobe hasn't changed in five years.

"Vicky?" You almost laugh. "Please tell me I'm high or some shit."

Nikki laughs. "Nah, you smoked all our weed last night."

You narrow your eyes at him. "I only had maybe a quarter of a joint. You and Tommy smoked like one each."

Tommy laughs. "I only got three quarters of one since you were smoking on mine."

You laugh, kicking Tommy lightly under the table. "You really didn't need to be smoking that much since you were setting the goddamn cockroaches on fire."

Tommy snorts, leaning forward. "I do that shit when I'm sober."

"I'm not even surprised, T-Bone," You say, letting Nikki wrap his arm around your shoulders.

"Did you guys just forget I'm here or something?" Vicky asks.

Good to know she's as bitchy as ever.

"Yeah," You respond.

Nikki laughs. "Look who has an attitude."

You shove him, smiling. "You have no room to talk, Sixx. Before I came around you had a reputation of kicking people's asses for just looking at you."

Nikki nods. "That is the truth."

Tommy shakes his head. "I'm not surprised. The way you went off on London's lead singer kinda pegged you for a hot head."

"This is just ridiculous, now," Vicky says.

You sigh. "You still with Jared?"

"You still jealous?" She retorts.

"I never was and never have been jealous of you and Jared's relationship. Especially now," You respond, wrapping your arm the best you can around Nikki's waist.

She scoffs. "You're really dating this guy?"

You hum in response. You watch as Jared and your sister walk through the door of the bar.

Vince taps me on the leg. I turn my head towards him. I already know what he's going to ask.

"I'm alright," You say, not letting him ask.

He holds his hands up in surrender. "Don't attack me for making sure you're okay."

"We just met, Blondie."

"And that means I can't be worried about you?"

You nod. "Yep."

"You're a strange person," Vince laughs.

You turn back to Vicky who now has Jared and your sister next to her. Jared looks the same. Black hair and a preppy style. Nothing has changed.

"Vicky could you please just go get us the goddamn drinks?" You practically beg. You want her as far away from this table as she can get.

Jared opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.

"Can you both just leave me the hell alone?"

Jared looks taken aback by your harshness. He doesn't say a word. He just takes your sister's arm and walks away.

"We're never coming back to this bar," You say, leaning back.

"Why babe?" Nikki asks.

"Too many people from my past that I'd rather forget," You answer. "From now on we're sticking to the Starwood, The Whiskey, and The Rainbow."

"I would say, 'I'll drink to that', but your friend still isn't back with our drinks," Tommy laughs.

You bite your lip, trying to think of any way to get out of here. "Why don't we just go home? We have plenty of booze and we won't have to worry about how we're going to get home."

Nikki looks at the other two, trying to see what they want to do.

"Sounds good. I miss that apartment," Tommy says.

"Tom we were there not even four hours ago," Nikki laughs.

"I still miss it."

"Sounds good," Vince says.

"Hold on," You say. "The apartment is a sacred place that the band members and I hang out. You can't go there if you aren't apart of the band."

"What?" Vince asks, laughing in disbelief.

"You need to choose if you're gonna be in the band or not right now," You respond.

Vince takes a minute, then nods his head. "Alright, I'm in."

You all climb out of the booth and leave the godforsaken bar. Nikki walks beside you with his hand tightly gripping onto yours. Vince and Tommy are talking animatedly about something. You aren't listening to them. Your mind is staying at how you saw three people you ended up hating. They treated you wrong, and you see that now. They belittled you. They made you feel like nothing. You thought that's how friends treated each other, but after you met Nikki your view on that changed. He was, and still is, the sweetest and kindest man you ever met.

"Looks like you got us a lead singer," Nikki laughs, giving your hand a small squeeze.

"I guess I did," You respond, looking up at him. God, he's so perfect. You know that you're in love with him with every ounce of love you can manage.

"Who were those people?"

You drop your gaze back down to the sidewalk. "People that I hoped to never see again. Let's not get into it, alright?"

"Alright." He stops, pulling you into his body. He leans down and kisses you as deeply as he can manage. You smile as he pulls away. "I love you."

"I love you too," You respond.

You mean those words. And hearing him say them is about the only thing that's keeping you from breaking down right now.

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This fic: @celestica-1988 @miriampraez @scarecrowmax @fandomshit6000 @freddiessmallnipples

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Nikki fics: @moon-beame @slutfor-sixx @2dead2function

#motley crue #classic rock #rocknroll #rock #rock music #rockband #nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mick mars #fanfic #fanfiction #reader #reader insert #nikki sixx x reader #nikki x reader

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smolfangirl · 5 years

Text

Cómo te pido

Based on the song and mv for “Cristina” by Sebastián Yatra, and some of my own experiences. I hope you enjoy this ♥

Word count: 5.8k

///

Entre tanta gente yo te vi llegar

Algo en el destino me hizo saludar

///

One day off. One single day of getting lost in the city, not found by anyone except himself. That’s all he wants, craves, after weeks and weeks of being praised as someone who exists solely in the minds of the media and his fans.

One day, and he couldn’t even get that.

It starts with some teenagers chilling on the staircase to the metro, asking for pics, and soon they’ll be all over Instagram and a group of paparazzi and reporters will follow him – Matteo knows the deal. The business.

And frankly, he’s tired of it.

///

The moment he steps into the bar, he wonders if this was the right decision. The air feels hot in his lungs, the smell of cigarettes and cheap beer burns in his nose, while his eyes struggle to find the barkeeper in the crowd blocking the counter. He pulls the hood of his sweatshirt deeper into his face before he slowly makes his way to the bar.

No one looks at him for more than just a second.

///

She’s looking at him.

The stage light creates the illusion of a halo around her, and she’s looking at him with a smile so bright and honest, he can’t tear his gaze away from her. At first, he feared she recognized him, saw through his terrible disguise, but the longer he watches her, the more he relaxes. During his career, he’s seen hundred versions of people spotting him and freaking out. That girl is not one of them.

So, he winks back at her.

///

Her voice sounds as sweet and golden as on the stage, like honey that’s sticking to his soul instead of his fingers. She appears next to him out of nowhere, asking if the seat is taken as she already casually jumps on it. With a chuckle, he replies that he won’t ask her to leave, and the moment she directs another smile at him, the burden of being a superstar whirls off his shoulders.

“Do you usually arrive only to see the last performance of the night?” she asks, head tilted. Her hair falls freely over her shoulder, a tangled mess that somehow frames her face perfectly.

Grimacing, he reaches for his drink. The wine still tastes like a grape took a piss in his glass, although that detail is forgotten the instant he figures out what to answer. “No, but usually, the last performance isn’t worth paying attention to.”

“You’ve never been here before.”

“And you’ve never had a drink with someone as cool as me.”

That makes her laugh. He feels pride rushing through his veins, like when his music makes someone happy or when his mom looks at him with tears in her eyes after watching a performance from him.

She leans closer. “Technically, I’m not having a drink right now.”

The smile on his face never leaves, only deepens. “Then it’s about time we change that.”

///

At some point after midnight, long after his phone ran out of battery, the barkeeper releases a heavy sigh and asks them to leave. They’re the only ones left in the entire room.

At the exit, he stops. Glances over his shoulder, at this place he’d never expect to find (or look for). For a few hours, he had a safe haven, away from fans, flashing cameras and obnoxious voices chanting his name. It was worth the stifling air, the hint of vomit out of the toilets, the headache the cheap wine will give him in the morning. Whatever happened tonight will end too soon, even when he’s not ready to give it up just yet.

“You okay?” Luna’s hand lingers on his arm, gently guides him back to reality, where her last laugh still echoes through the bar.

Upon facing her, he discovers a frown on her face. “Yeah, sure. Just wanted to make sure I left nothing behind.”

“Okay.”

The air leaking inside from the entrance hits him with all its coldness, reminding him of what kind of world he’s returning to.

Silencing the sigh rooted in his chest, Matteo hides in his hoodie again. “Okay, let’s go.”

She holds him back. Lets her hand hush over his cheeks, carefully tugging the fabric until the hood falls on his back. “You shouldn’t hide such a beautiful face.”

His breath hitches. Eventually, he whispers back, “You can never be too careful in a city like this.”

“I keep wondering if you’re new around here, you know?”

That’s the curse of being a star, he thinks. He’s not new to this city – or any other – yet knows nothing that exists outside of his hotel and the venue. And with Luna, everything feels new altogether.

“I am.”

She smiles, again, and if every camera in the world had only one picture left, that’s what he’d photograph. “I can show you around then, if you’d like.”

///

Y empecé mis planes para vernos otra vez

///

“You want me to put skates on my feet?” Half protesting, half questioning her, his mind already paints vivid pictures of him in an emergency room, sitting in a wheelchair with one leg and two arms broken, as his manager yells at him.

“What did you think the helmets were for?”

“I don’t know, something less dangerous? Cycling, maybe?”

“Are you trying to tell me you never skated before?”

Matteo sighs, rubbing his arm. “I used to. As a kid.” In the street where his grandparents used to live, back in Italy. Some part of his body always carried a scratch or a bruise during those summer days, he remembers ending up on the ground a lot, and the band-aids his mom used to ease the pain. (With funny little fruits on them.)

Luna dangles her boots in front of him with a smile that sends his heart into overdrive. “Then this will be even more fun.”

“Luna…” His heartbeat picks up at the mere idea of falling. When he was younger, he felt invincible enough to risk it, but looking at her, at the skates, he feels like his whole body is made of glass.

“I’ll hold your hand the entire time.”

Maybe he won’t fall.

///

He can’t remember the last time it’s been so dark around him. On the street, cameras blind him even through his sunglasses. At home, his phone never gives him a rest, blinking for every message, every notification that comes in. Even in the bar they met in light leaked behind closed doors, from the stage or as a broken reflection from a cocktail glass. His whole world is bright and open and cruel – there’s no shadow to make one wrong move in.

Here, everything is dark and soft and honest. When he glimpses behind the curtain, he can see the stars sprinkled over the sky. Next to him, Luna is dozing off, the silver moon light dancing on her cheekbone. He can hear the beat of his own heart, calm and steady in a rhythm it hasn’t found in years.

Just as he closes his eyes, Luna shifts on the mattress until he feels her gaze settle on him. “I can’t believe I’m doing this”, she whispers.

“What, camping?”

“Going on a road trip with someone I barely know. You could be an axe murderer.”

Or worse, a popstar who could get you on the front cover of every gossip magazine you ever heard of. Out loud, he chuckles. “Damn, you caught me. How will you fall asleep now that you discovered my darkest secret?”

She tries to slap him on his arm only to hit his blanket, and he keeps her fingers locked and secure in his own hands. “You know what, Luna, you put up too much of a fight. I’m gonna have mercy on you.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re freezing.”

Her voice grows softer, shy almost. “The blanket’s not very warm.”

For a moment, they fall quiet. The wind creates a melody in the tree tops, plays with the leaves like a five-year old chasing a ball, and Matteo thinks about the bottom drawer in his mom’s kitchen, the one that doesn’t close completely, because of this one pot that’s a millimeter too big. He thinks about the empty jars his mom keeps in there for her strawberry marmalade, and how he wants to store this feeling in them, forever. This moment, this peace, won’t last, but perhaps he could lock it away, remember it, completely: the wind outside, the muffled rustling from his blanket as he robs closer to her. How her body curves against his like she’s a matching puzzle piece.

How he falls asleep, wondering if all these coincidences that lead him here are just his destiny in disguise.

///

He’s been to many beaches. Beaches in Italy during his childhood, where he mostly cared about how good the sand would build up to castles. Beaches on vacations, where he was surrounded with people who didn’t wish to be bothered by anyone, just like him. Once or twice he performed at a beach festival. He got his skin burned, got tanned. Went swimming and snorkeling and hired jet skis to cruise on the ocean.

He never just stood and watched.

“What a view, huh?”

Next to him, Luna stands in the breeze, eyes half closed as she wears this smile again that could replace the sun. Her dress softly flaps around her legs, and the wind plays with her hair. Yeah, what a view.

“I wonder if there’s a way to get down there,” he says out loud.

Grimacing, she glances down the cliff separating them from the ocean. “Unless you wanna jump down there, I don’t think so.”

“That’s a shame.”

“There’ll be other beaches, you know. That we can actually go to.” Her fingers dance over his arms, the silent encouragement only contradicted by the soft laugh that follows. Goosebumps run over his skin, his stomach ties itself into a knot, but Matteo can’t quite fathom a smile. As long as they’re alone, his mind is too full of her and the rush of emotions she brings along like a fresh breath of air after sitting in the studio all day. But she’ll say something like this, reminding him that there’s more out there, people and social media and another life for him, and his chest tenses until he’s almost suffocating.

Luna has no clue, of course. She doesn’t know better, so she lets him discover her, lets him read through her past and thoughts and feelings like it’s nothing more than a sweet novel to get lost in during vacations. And he knows better, so he turns page after page, trying to memorize the lines, the ticking clock a constant noise in the back of his mind.

The more he gets to know her, the more he dreads going back to the spotlight. (The more he falls for her, too.)

“Let me take a picture of you. With this beach, okay?” he begs her. The dimple on her cheek deepens as she carefully places her camera in his hand. Her touch still lingers on his palm when he snaps the first picture, and he can’t hurry enough to capture the softness in her gaze, or the brightness in her smile. He hasn’t grown tired of admiring her, and with the camera in his hands, he finally allows himself to keep more than just a fond memory. If a few pictures are going to be the only thing left when reality catches him in its iron fist again, he’ll hold onto every tiny snippet of them.

///

Luna takes pictures of him, too. On that cliff, in front of the crystal-clear sky which is only outdone by the shimmering blue of the ocean. In a small town when they wander through the streets and follow graffities bursting with color. When they stumble upon the kid bringing the grey walls to life with his spray cans, and he poses with him as if they were best friends. When she invites him for ice cream and a hungry seagull steals his cone directly out of his hand.

Every night after dawn, she cuddles up to him in the campervan to show him her favorite pictures.

Once, she’s fast asleep next to him, he scrolls through his phone to the file with the pictures from photoshoots and magazine covers. The Matteo in there smiles too, but it isn’t real. Luna brings out the smile in his eyes, and in the picture he’s staring at, the curve on his lips is plastered on like the make-up on his forehead. For his work, he acts like a mannequin, nothing more than a prop to polish someone’s Instagram page and give his fans the illusion of knowing him.

In Luna’s pictures, he’s happy. Silly even, if he wants to. When she focuses her camera on him, there’s no expectation in the little click of the lens, so he lets go and smiles because one look from her pulls the corners of his mouth up. Sometimes she pulls a grimace at him that he copies, and sometimes, he leans down to kiss her cheek right before she takes a selfie.

He hopes that when this is over, she’ll look at these little moments, knowing she unlocked a side of him no one else saw before.

///

Recuerdo todo lo que te gustaba

Y tu camisa que llega a los pies

Esa carita cuando te cantaba por primera vez

///

Her phone died. In the middle of the song, two seconds away from her favorite part, and he expects the pout on her face before he tears his gaze away from the street. Before he met her, he never even heard of the band, too busy with his own music. Now, his fingers tap the melody on the steering wheel with ease, and he finishes the song so naturally like the words were tattooed into his veins. It’s not until he falls silent again that he glimpses over to her.

Tears glisten in her eyes.

“You have a beautiful voice,” she whispers.

“Thanks,” he replies, smiling to himself. (After signing his first contract, he never thought these words could mean so much again.)

“I mean it. I can totally see you becoming a singer or something. Hey, maybe I could ask Simón if he’d be up for a collaboration, or…” Her enthusiasm intensifies with every word she rambles, but it’s not contagious this time, not when his mind already paints a new picture of the worst case. She probably knows her best friend’s phone number by heart, and she’ll sneak his phone out of his pocket to call him, and he’ll know more about a certain Matteo Balsano than she imagines, so she’ll find out who he is (or who everyone else knows him as) and hate him and he’ll have to let her go, and he’s not ready for that.

“Matteo?” Her voice snaps him back to reality. “Are you okay?”

Is he? His knuckles turned white as he’s driving, and he clenches his teeth so hard that his jaw hurts. “Um, sure, yeah. I’m fine. I just don’t think I’m the type for a boy band.”

The frown on her forehead tells him he seriously needs to work on his white lies. But before she gets to needle him with more questions, Matteo gives her his most charming smile and asks, “Are you in for a duet though? Like, right now?”

A few minutes later he thinks that no professionally recorded and produced duet could ever live up to the harmony that is her voice melting into his.

///

Y si pudiera mostrarte

Que estando juntos ya no hay nada que falte

///

She asked him to pull over, again. The coastal view tempted her too much, and she’s sorry and hiding behind her open hair, even when he’s coming to a stop without as much as raising an eyebrow. Leaning against the van, Matteo watches her standing in the breeze, arms wide open, a huge smile on her face. One glance over her shoulder, and he’s by her side. She raises an eyebrow at him, more a challenge than a question, so he smirks and twirls her around until a laugh pearls over her lips. Bumping into his chest, Luna is still giggling, still making his heart feel like a race car that’s cruising his ribcage. With her arms around his neck, she pulls him into a dance along to the rhythm of their heartbeats. (A scene just like a music video, he thinks, except that it’s real.)

She takes the lead. Whirls him around just like he did, fuels him with every look out of her dazzling green eyes. There’s the thought of kissing her, again. A part of him already suspects that he’ll never stop writing songs about her once his lips get to know hers, but this urge never burned him so fast from the inside.

This time, he won’t fight it.

Matteo allows himself to give in, every move is now aimed to get him closer to her, every breath he takes hopes to be shared with her, and he’s falling, falling, falling.

They’re slow dancing now. Her face is hidden in his chest, both arms wrapped around him as if he’s her favorite stuffed animal. The sun creates the illusion of diamonds on her hair, and he feels endlessly torn between soaking up this pure moment, and finally pressing his mouth on hers. Her fingers sneak over his shirt, caress him light as a feather. Matteo is done, defeated, desperate, as her name slips out in nothing more than a whisper.

Their eyes meet.

He leans in.

Thunder growls above them.

Her, ducking away. Pulling him along, towards the van. The moment he blinks up at the sky to the dark clouds sneaking in, she hastily explains, “I think we need to leave now.” He stumbles behind her, speechless. (Because all he feels is her hand intertwined with his fingers.)

///

They don’t talk while Matteo is driving. He’s focused on the road, and the rain clatters on the windscreen too loudly anyway, killing any hope for a conversation. Luna tried to ask him if driving in this weather was a good idea, but the noise swallowed her voice, so she gave up. Now she’s staring into the angry sky outside, pretending she’s not tempted to sneak another glimpse at him, and then another.

Her mind is overflowing with things left unsaid, with confessions and too many questions. He wanted to kiss her, she’s pretty sure about that. And he might still want to kiss her.

Everything else, though, remains a mystery.

How can she be sure she knows him at all, anyway? A book in a foreign language wouldn’t be as hard to decipher as he is. He never mentions his everyday life, or his job. The one time she asked, he said he worked in the entertainment industry, and then he changed the topic. He talks about his childhood, but never his presence. She still doesn’t know why he refused to leave the back of the van three days ago, when she refueled the van and got some snacks in a small city by the coast. Maybe he’s just weird, maybe he’s hiding something, an ex who he’s not keen on running into, or something worse. Maybe she doesn’t want to know.

But these doubts never linger in her mind long enough. Because their eyes meet or he gets her without a single look, or they laugh for ten minutes straight about the same dumb joke, or he smiles at her so gently it takes her breath away. Like right now, as he catches her glare and in an instant, her mouth runs dry.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.” A bold lie. She’s thinking about a lot of things, like how soft his lips look, or how her stomach feels like it might burst and how she wants to be close to him for the rest of her life.

And how he better kiss her soon, because otherwise she definitely will.

///

They end up stranded in the middle of nowhere.

The storm rages on, too harsh for them to keep going, and now they’re in bed, listening to the wind howling. Lightning crushes down somewhere close to the van, for a moment, everything is silver and bright and scary. Then, darkness returns. With a shaky breath, Luna pulls her blanket closer.

“Are you okay?” Matteo whispers. The mattress gives in to his weight as he shifts around, before his hand finds her clenched fist underneath the thin fabric. “You’re cold.”

“You’re hot.”

“May I?”

Her reply, “Sure”, already dies on her tongue. He must have heard it anyway, because he robs closer until she’s in his arms, surrounded by his warmth and his scent and the daydream of his lips on hers. “Thank you,” she says, turning to what she hopes is the outline of his face in the dark.

Lightning, again.

He’s close, closer than she expected. His breath hovers over her face. The memory of this afternoon flickers through her mind, the anticipation that built up ever since they sat in that little bar, the tension in the air when they glimpse at each other at the same time and –

Finally, Matteo kisses her.

///

Solo tienes que saber

Que yo quisiera quedarme

///

Sunlight caresses her cheek. Matteo is feeding her grapes, piece after piece, as he snuggles up to her left side until her blanket becomes kind of redundant. The morning is nothing like last night, quiet and soft, the early sky a canvas of pastels.

“Do you think we can go to the beach today?”

“If we find one, sure.” He nips on his coffee cup, the grapes now out of her reach, then pats over the blanket, probably in search for his phone.

“How come you keep looking for the same things every morning?”

“I don’t know, I swear it was just right here… ah, got it!” A frown finds its way on his forehead while he begins to type. Then, a soft groan, followed by more typing.

She nudges him with her shoulder. “Let me guess, you’re still trying to find a beach where it’s just us?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with any beach either.”

“Why don’t you just…” He falls silent, gaze suddenly stuck on the screen. The wrinkle above his eyes deepens. His thumb lingers in the air, frozen.

“Why don’t I just what?” Luna asks, her hand finally getting a hold on the grapes, so she at least has something to do.

The sigh he replies with doesn’t exactly promise good news. “I got a text message from work and… seems like they need me back soon.”

Her eyes flutter shut. She thinks of last night, of the dawn, when the first thing she felt upon waking up was his arm loosely wrapped around her, and the second thing his lips greeting her. She thinks of sitting on the beach, a golden sunset in front of them as she steals a kiss from him, safe in his arms. She thinks of the deadlines and unwritten reports and papers waiting for her at home. “How soon?”

“A few days. A week, if I really push it.”

“We’d have to drop off the van early.”

“I don’t want to. I’d rather stay here. With you.” With one hand, Matteo pushes a strand that escaped her ponytail overnight behind her ear. His words hit her straight in her chest, from where a thousand butterflies escape into her bloodstream. “And why can’t you?” she whispers.

“I can’t just… quit. I’m too important there.”

Chuckling, Luna hides her face in his shoulder. When he asks her what’s wrong, she glances up at him, grinning only harder. “You are such a chico fresa, Matteo,” she explains, and the confusion sticks on his face even after she tucks a grape behind his sweet lips.

///

The ocean underneath her feet. The smell of sunscreen lingering in her nose. His smile around her, more constant than the sun in the sky. Her, trailing after him like she’s indeed a silver rocket in the universe and he’s her earth.

For an instant, Luna ponders about this moment, certain she’ll miss it at some point later. But then, he makes her laugh again and all that matters is now.

///

No sé cómo te pido que te enamores

Cuando al final no voy a estar cuando tu llores

(Cuando de ti me enamoré)

///

“Oh my god, guys, that’s Matteo Balsano!” Half a scream, half a whisper. It’s too soon for him to be pulled back into his superstar life, but too late to escape it – that life, his fans, and the realization dawning upon Luna.

“Matteo! Can we take a picture?” Louder. Flashlights. A forced smile on his lips.

“Can you sign this? For Kaylee?”

“Can I have a photo too?” Three phones all up in his face. Four. “I can’t believe we’re running into the Matteo Balsano, just like that!”

Hands, trying to touch whatever is closest to them, trying to nudge him away from where he wants to be. “Why did you disappear for two weeks?”

Luna, gone from his side.

///

Time moves too slowly. She needs answers, explanations. Now. He’s still standing at the other side of the street, those girls stuck to him like fruit flies trapped in honey. She wants them gone, and she wants to be home already, in the silent comfort of her room.

Time moves too quickly. She needs space, something familiar. Her brain is still catching up on what happened, and she’s only halfway through his Wikipedia page. She wants to wake up in bed so this can just be a dream, and she wants yesterday back, with the soft embrace of his arms.

Time moves on. He’s walking towards the van. His face disappears under the hood of his sweater, and she feels like a paparazzi watching him, his every move.

All at once, he’s a stranger to her.

///

“Why?”

“I’m so sorry, Luna.”

She huffs. The sun hits her directly through the windscreen, yet her cheeks heat up for a whole other reason.

“This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out.”

Her gaze fixates on the view outside, the house fronts and parked cars. It’s motionless, not even a breeze softly ruffling through the palm trees. Inside her, everything seems to be moving and stirring. “And how was I supposed to find out? Never?”

If making him speechless is an accomplishment, it doesn’t feel like one. After seconds or minutes or whatever excruciating amount of silence it equals on the clock, he sighs. “Do you know how hard it is to find someone who doesn’t treat you like some kind of god? You made me feel… when I’m with you, I’m different. Someone…”

“Normal?” Bitterness leaks out of her tone, and it poisons her heart. “That sounds terrible, Matteo. And I’m not going to pity you.”

“Happy,” he replies. “I wanted to say that you made me feel like someone happy.”

You made me feel happy too. Those words don’t cross her lips, though. Instead, she turns on the engine and starts driving. (Away from the place where her heart broke, but not away from him.) Taking a shaky breath, he opens his mouth but before he says anything else, Luna drowns his voice with the first radio station she finds. After two minutes, the host announces one of his songs.

She almost smashes the radio with her fist.

///

All day, she waits for dawn to come, for the darkness to match her mood. An hour into driving, Matteo quietly asks her to stop by one of the beaches to their left. She follows him in a safe distance as he watches the ocean. There’s no smile on his face, just a wrinkle on his forehead. Her phone weighs heavy in her pocket, tempting her to snap a picture of him like all the days before. But she no longer feels like she has the right to take a photo of him, which shouldn’t add to her misery this much.

So, now she’s aching for the night to hide him from her eyes.

///

His eyes flutter open in the darkness. The blanket is tangled between his legs, and he feels some part of Luna bumping into him. His heart clenches at the memory of her silence today, or the looks she sent him. He doesn’t know what he expected, only that he hoped, with a little luck, that she’d stay in his life.

There’s no such faith anymore.

Her touch startles him. Slowly, her fingertips draw patterns on his arm, and Matteo isn’t sure if he’s dreaming. “Luna?” he whispers into the silence.

Her hand stops moving, but it stays frozen where it was, which is everything he needs to hope again. “What are we gonna do?” she finally says.

His heart skips a beat, only to riot harder than ever before in his chest. “I don’t know,” he admits, unsure. “I can’t escape this, you know? People will recognize me wherever I go, whether I like it or not. That’s just a part of my life.”

“So, after this, I’ll never see you again?”

He closes his eyes. Sighs. “Would that be a good thing for you?”

Luna hesitates, he can feel it in her fingertips leaving his skin, in the breath she’s holding. Every second in which she keeps him hanging on to the last thread of hope hurts. All he wants is to pull her back into his arms, back to a time where it was just him and her, and reality got no hold on them. And he feels stupid for believing any of this could have lasted.

“No. It wouldn’t.”

Luna buries her head in his shoulder. A sob pearls over her lips, and out of words, he presses a kiss on her hair. “But I can’t do this,” she adds before she rolls over to her side of the bed and shatters his heart into pieces, just like he must’ve earlier.

When he finds his words again, he whispers “I’m sorry I can’t stay”, but she seems to already be asleep.

///

Este amor ya no es mío

///

He’s watching the van being driven away by one of the employees. The sun is setting behind the rental office, sealing the end of his little run from real life. Turning around, his eyes land on Luna, wo’s holding on to her bags as if her life depended on it.

“So, this is it,” he concludes.

She returns his gaze, and the tears shimmering in them feel like a knife to his chest. “I guess.”

“Maybe we could…”

“Matteo, no.” It sounds as if he’s torturing her, as if nothing brought her more pain than the mere chance to see him again. (If only he knew how to make her smile again…) “We can’t. You know this wouldn’t work.”

With that, she leaves him.

///

Sé que la vida se pasa pero no pasa contigo

///

The next months bring her a lot of opportunities to cry. His new single that her roommate plays on repeat for hours, unaware that the Luna in his song is the same one yelling at her to use headphones. The music video for said single, where he replaces her with a girl who looks nothing like her. His new album, titled Chico Fresa out of all things, and every song that speaks to her. Every single time her thumb hovers over his contact in her phone, until she remembers why she refuses to see him again.

But she learns to stop asking herself “What if”, to stop torturing herself with daydream after daydream. She learns to ignore his voice on the radio and the gossip on the internet. She learns to sleep alone again and get mad enough at him for his lies and songs and calls to move on with her life.

And then she walks into the skating rink on her birthday to a package with her name scribbled on it, inside brand-new skates in the colors of a sunset, along with a card signed by him.

After that, she can’t pretend anymore that she hates him.

///

No tengo la certeza de volverte a ver

Recuérdame

///

The beach in Cancún hasn’t changed. The palm trees along the way, offering some shadow in the merciless midday sun, the scent of salt and sunscreen in the air. The pathway along the ocean she led him to, with her hand in his, which often enough was the only reason his ass didn’t kiss the ground.

Matteo, however, has changed. He has grown, as a person, as a songwriter. Even as a skater – he doesn’t need anyone’s hand anymore in order to keep his balance.

Still, he keeps thinking about her.

Especially here in Mexico, where a year ago, he kissed her, and she claimed his heart only to walk away with it. He wonders what she’s up to, which skating competition she’s training for right now, and if her studies are going well. If there’s someone else, someone new in her life. Someone who isn’t followed by ecstatic fans and paparazzi.

His mind always stumbles over this idea, sooner or later. Not that it’s any of his business. He just wants her to be happy, that’s all. (Is it wrong if he wants her to be happy with him?) And who can blame him when sometimes, missing her overwhelms him, and he can’t stop thinking about what ifs – what if he gave up his career? What if he insisted on seeing her again just a little bit more?

It’s a dangerous path to walk on, and never a gleeful one. So, every time it gets too much to bear, he goes skating.

It’s a routine by now. Matteo puts on his helmet and sunglasses, then his boots. He never goes fast, simply cruising up and down the beach while painting pictures in his head, of her by his side. He imagines her whirling around in pirouettes, jumping and showing off all the tricks he doesn’t dare to try. He imagines the sun adding a soft shimmer to her hair, and her laugh ringing in his ears as he recites the lyrics of the last song he wrote for her. About her. He imagines that he’ll never has to write another song about the moon, because he gets to tell her everything in person.

Her laugh, again.

First, he wonders how clear his memory makes it sound in his ears. Then, he realizes it’s not just an imagination anymore, because Luna is here, for real, a mere hundred meters away. Wearing his skates.

In that moment he knows he’ll have to write another song for her.

#soy luna #lutteo #my sl fanfiction #cómo te pido #if anyone feels just half as emotional after this than from the mv then my work here is done #it feels like an eternity since this song came out #this wasn't supposed to turn out this long but is anyone really surprised

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signutai · 5 years

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wonzon....19? :}

So! I guess this’ll be, like...a tiny next-day continuation of Lonely Places, Lonely People, so it might be just a lil confusing for folks who haven’t read that. Which, if you’re following me, I really hope you have.(Warning for minor descriptions of injuries. Cut for length, not content.)

Cross-posted to AO3 here!

#OPM #One Punch Man #One Shotter #Zombieman #drabble #sniktbub

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ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years

Text

The Only Song Worth Singing

Author: Neut

Year: 2006

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Bob Fossil/Dixon Bainbridge, Matt Berry/Vince Noir, Matt Berry/Rich Fulcher

"Hey, Matt," Rich said eagerly. "Matt." Matt did not respond. "Matt," Rich tried again. He had a teaspoon balanced on his nose. "You're a prick," Matt said from behind his newspaper. Crestfallen, Rich removed the spoon. "I'm so bored," he said. Matt still did not respond. "Hey you wanna play darts?" "Have you had another royalty cheque?" "No." "Fuck off." Rich began to drum his fingers against his legs. He looked around the room. He began to whistle. Matt dropped the paper and grabbed Rich's face with one hand. "Shut the fuck up." Rich froze. Matt slowly let go. "I gotta go piss," Rich said. Matt nodded as Rich rose from his seat. He crossed the room to the toilets and as he was about to open the door, heard a call of "Not that one!" His hand instinctively moved to the door next to it, labelled '1888'. He smiled. Of course. Sir Charles would be able to provide some entertainment. Despite having stepped through the rip in the time/space continuum several times now, it still left Rich disoriented. When he snapped out of his daze, he looked around and realised that Sir Charles was not in his usual seat. The room was empty, the only sign of life the fire flickering in the grate. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Rich sidled over to the chair and with one last furtive glance, sat himself upon it. It was comfortable. No, more than comfortable. This chair was a little piece of heaven. Rich rifled through the things on the table beside him, poured himself a drink from a crystal decanter and began to prepare a pipe. "I'm fucking Goldilocks!" he said, enthralled. He took a sip of the drink and knew before it even touched his tongue that it was going to be the best whiskey he'd ever tasted. "Wow," he breathed. The pipe was half raised to his mouth when he heard a door open. He dropped it in surprise and tobacco spilled onto the carpet. He turned slowly, expecting Sir Charles or his man, Wormwood. He would be in trouble regardless. He heard a voice before he saw the speaker. "Whoa there. What's going on here?" "Dunno," a second voice replied. "Thought you said this was the toilets?" It was neither Sir Charles nor Wormwood. With some disappointment Rich noted that it was not even the usual bevy of half naked prostitutes. Rather it was the two least likely people he could have imagined wandering into Matt's great, great uncle's drawing room. They stared at him. He stared at them. They hadn't changed much since he last saw them and judging by their faces, they were equally as surprised to see him as he was them. "Fossil?" "Hey, Vince. I like your hair." Vince looked at Howard for some explanation. Howard shrugged his shoulders. The last time that they had seen Fossil he had been unkempt, slightly manic and was flitting around after Bainbridge, hurling obscenities at small children. Now here he was in this luxurious room, wearing a smart, dark suit and neatly groomed. It was difficult to believe he was the same man. "What's going on?" Vince asked. "We just came in for a wee." "Yeah, I know," Fossil said, his face adopting the familiar look of dumb eagerness that Howard and Vince were accustomed to. They both relaxed slightly. "It happens all the time when I go for a piss." "You drink in the King's Legs?" Howard asked, looking back at the door he and Vince had just entered through. "No. The Hangman's Club." An awkward silence fell on the room. Vince nudged Howard. "So... um. How are you? How have you been?" Howard's interest was unconvincing, though Fossil didn't appear to notice. "Great!" he grinned. "I got a new job with my friend Matt. He works for the Queen. And I get to hang out in his gentleman's club." "You?" Howard and Vince said in stunned unison. Fossil looked a little hurt. There was something not quite right about him. He seemed calmer somehow. Maybe even a little quieter. Howard felt he could do with a drink to help him come to terms with the current situation. "You guys should come meet Matt," Fossil said. Vince looked at Howard again, his eyebrows raised in question. Howard shook his head and mumbled "I dunno". Vince cast a quick glance at Fossil. There was such a simple, gullible air about him. "We can't say no," he whispered. "Be like kicking a puppy." Howard couldn't believe that he was about to agree to an evening spent with the man who had made his life hell for so long, but he admitted to himself that he liked the idea of attending a gentleman's club. It sounded like the sort of place where Howard Moon would be appreciated. He nodded at Vince. "Alright, Mr Fossil. Lead the way." "Great. But, hey, lay off the Fossil stuff. I don't use that name anymore." "Who the hell are these two arseholes?" Matt was unimpressed with the strays that Rich had brought back. "Really, Berry," one of the old gentleman members said, nodding towards a sign reading 'NO SWEARING'. "Uh, these guys are friends of mine," Rich said unsurely. Howard and Vince exchanged a look with one another. The old gentleman cleared his throat and pointed to another sign, higher up the wall. It said 'NO COLOURFUL NON-MEMBERS'. "Piss off, you silly old fart," Matt said. The old man shook his head and made a sound of disapproval. "Just sit," Rich said. "And try not to draw too much attention." The irony was not lost on Howard and Vince as they watched Fossil- or Rich, as he insisted on being called- go to the bar. Howard turned back to Matt. "Allow me to introduce myself," he began. "I'm Howard Moon, jazz maverick. You may have heard of me. I span the genres." Matt stared hard at him for a good minute. "I haven't got a fucking clue who you are, pal. What about you, princess? Got a name?" Vince regarded Matt coolly. "Vince Noir," he said, almost making it sound like a threat. Matt looked him up and down with a smirk. "Sounds about right." Rich reappeared with drinks, placing a pint of something dark in front of Howard and a toxic pink cocktail before Vince. Matt gulped down half a glass of whiskey and pointed at Rich. Howard had a sudden and brief sense of de ja vu. "Talk," Matt commanded. "I used to work with these guys." "So what the hell are they doing here?" "Oi," Vince interjected. "We are sitting right here." "We don't know how we got here," Howard added. "We were in a pub, then we went through a door and ended up in that drawing room with Mr Fossil here." "Fossil," Matt said, rather than asked. He looked at Rich and sighed impatiently. He was fast tiring of this. "Look, Matt. I didn't tell you the whole truth about me." Matt yawned. "I didn't come straight from the States when I met you. I used to work in a zoo." Howard's attention wandered while Rich was talking. He noticed a portrait hanging behind the table. The subject was a man who bore a striking resemblance to Matt, save for his elaborate moustache. The plaque beneath it indicated that the man was Sir Charles Berry. The name meant nothing to Howard other than the fact that he was obviously one of Matt's ancestors. Yet there was something so familiar... "Why should I give a shit, you dickhead?" Howard's train of thought was broken as Matt threw another insult at Rich. "I was using a different name then because of all that stuff with my sisters," Rich mumbled. "Eh?" Vince asked, perking up. This sounded more interesting. "Your mate Fossil has dabbled with his own flesh and blood on more than one occasion," Matt said with a satisfied smirk. Howard and Vince grimaced. "That's even worse than Bainbridge," Vince blurted out. "Bainbridge..." Rich murmured in wonder, speaking the word as though it was something mythical. Matt looked up sharply and Howard caught his eye. It was the first time that Matt had dropped his guard. He was the first to look away. Bainbridge, Howard thought. That nagging feeling he'd had since arriving was starting to make more sense. "And this prick didn't even know that it was Bowie!" Matt had moved the party upstairs to his private room and was laughing loudly at Rich's expense. Across from him, Vince was grinning, stirring his drink with a straw and taking small, coquettish sips. "No way!" he giggled. "That's mental!" Howard and Rich sat apart from them, watching on awkwardly. Much to Howard's chagrin, as Vince's level of alcohol consumption had increased, so had his tolerance of Matt. Rich, meanwhile, had said little since Bainbridge had been mentioned. Howard found his silence unnerving. "Happens all the time," Matt continued. "Adam Ant was in the other week." Vince was visibly impressed. "We've gotta get the address of this studio, eh Howard?" Howard nodded in an offhanded fashion, knowing full well that Vince was intoxicated and didn't really want his opinion. Matt continued to regale Vince with his stories of this amazing rehearsal studio that he and Rich frequented while Howard struggled to get his head around the idea that Fossil could write music. And had a job. A job by appointment of the Sovereign. None of it added up. Matt was taking a piss in the adjoining bathroom and Rich was mixing some fresh drinks. Howard took the opportunity to talk to Vince. "There's some bad juju afoot," he said discretely. "Bad juju? It's worse than that. We just voluntarily spent our Saturday night in an old people's home with Fossil. And he's normal! Well... sort of. This is a twisted, freakish nightmare. Good cocktails though." "Look," Howard said, looking around with suspicion. "This Matt, does he remind you of anyone?" Vince looked blank. "Imagine him with big hair," Howard continued. "And a moustache? Like a ... silver horseshoe?" Vince frowned in concentration. Realisation slowly dawned on him. "Yeah," Howard urged him on. "Des Lynam!" Vince beamed. "Des Lynam?" "Yeah, the Silver Fox. Ladies love Des." "Wasn't quite who I had in mind." "Oh. Charles Darwin?" Howard fought to control his frustration. "Think about it, Vince. The insults, the cursing. And," Howard imitated the very distinctive way that Matt had pointed at Rich. "This!" Vince suddenly looked quite sick. Howard moved closer to him. "Are you alright?" "Yeah," Vince said unconvincingly. "Must have had one Cosmo too many." Howard carefully scrutinised his friend. "What happened?" he asked. "When we came upstairs. You and him, you tagged behind a bit." Vince looked sheepish. "There is a chance that I might possibly have just kissed him a little bit." Howard looked appalled. "Vince, how could you-" "Leave it out, Howard. It's bad enough I've got deal with getting off with a Bainbridge clone. I'll never live this down." Howard thought he saw Vince gag slightly when he said their former employer's name. Then Matt walked back into the room. Vince paled. "IthinkIwannagohomenow." "What's wrong with you?" Matt asked when he and Rich were alone. He was sprawled across a chaise longue while Rich was squashed into a small armchair. "I guess seeing those guys again brought back a lot of memories," Rich replied. "Y'know, I used to be a real asshole." "You're still an arsehole." "It was the guy I used to work for. He treated me pretty bad. I didn't realise it at the time. I would've done anything for him." Matt swirled the glass he was holding and the icecubes within it made a tiny chiming sound. "My uncle Dicky used to own a zoo." He said. Rich looked up, surprised that Matt was still paying attention to the conversation. "He's a complete tosser." They were silent for a while. "Hey, Matt?" "What?" "Thanks for getting me a job. I thought the zoo was my life and I didn't have a fucking clue what to do after it closed." Matt sat up and opened his mouth to speak. Rich looked him in the eye. He reached out and put his hands on either side of Rich's head, pulled him closer and placed a brief, hard kiss on his mouth. "You're mine now," he breathed.

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #snuffbox #snuff box #vince noir #howard moon #bob fossil/dixon bainbridge #rich fulcher/matt berry #vince noir/matt berry

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etherealvibespls · 7 years

Text

These Sleepless Nights

Summary: (Krii7y) I thought of this idea the other night when I couldn’t sleep and decided to stay up writing these two as adorable boyfriends because why not? So here’s krii7y with Smitty as the one who can’t sleep, and John as the boyfriend who tries his best to help.

Also for the anon that requested more krii7y, I don’t know if this is what you had in mind but I tried!

Hope you all enjoy! :)

He knows something is wrong when he moves an arm to wrap around a body, but grabs a fistful of sheets instead. Waking up takes time, a slow and groggy effort to pull himself out of dreams and the lull of sleep. It’s as if a heavy hand pushes him down, but his eyes blearily open to see the space next to his empty, and he pushes and pushes until the previous dream has faded and his mind regains control.

The indent in the plush pillow lets him know the other has only recently left; he huffs a laugh at that, because even while unconscious he can’t be without Smitty. Reaching a hand out, he smooths fingers over the soft fabric, sighing under his breath at already knowing the reason behind his boyfriends absence.

Chills rise fast and sudden as he pulls the blanket back, and he gripes the whole time he throws on sweatpants and a discarded hoodie on the floor. The floor that under his bare feet causes him to hiss softly, quickly shove them into the spongebob slippers he received as a gag gift for his birthday but ones he actually adores.

And it doesn’t take long to find who he’s looking for; the one bedroom apartment is small, with only enough space for half a living room and tiny kitchen. It’s their home, though, and they make it work. A figure is hunched on the couch, soft music playing from the phone that lays next to him, and John shuffles over, plopping down and getting as close as he can. They’re a physical couple, always touching, wherever possible. Sometimes that means a gentle hand on the other’s back, splayed out fingers gripping a thigh, and sometimes it’s as simple as laying a head on a warm shoulder, like John does now.

Smitty makes a sound under his breath, a sigh of contentment, maybe, or a laugh because John can never not show his love through contact-Smitty is much more discreet with his acts of adoration, always quick and gentle, but ones that leave John yearning for more.

“Can’t sleep?” He mumbles, face pressed against a hard bone. The thought of moving doesn’t cross his mind though, from both low energy and because the reciprocated head laying on his own is too comforting. Smitty doesn’t even have to answer the question; the instrumental song that’s currently playing tells John all he needs to know. It’s a tip their mutual friend told them about, when they have trouble sleeping and feel a sense of urgency at a time that’s meant to be calm.

There’s a soft sigh, some of the air hitting his eyelashes, and he stifles a yawn. “Just one of those nights, I guess.” And he sounds frustrated, because he hates not being able to sleep and having John stay up with him, no matter how hard he fights for the other to just go to bed. “Take one for the team” Smitty had joked with a bitterness not completely hidden, but John had only thrown his legs over a lap and clicked on the next episode of Black Mirror, where they stayed up all night watching as many as they could.

He ponders on that response for a while, letting the soft noises from the phone help his thoughts try to think of a clear solution, or as helpful as it can be, for someone who knows close to nothing about insomnia and is more concerned with his boyfriends well-being. “You wanna go for a drive?”

Most times when Smitty’s insomnia acts up they stay in, playing games, talking, or watching what’s on tv. He’s read about how car rides help at times, only once though when he woke to a similar situation like tonight, and had rolled over to try and search on how he could be of help. Now, he figures he ask something they have yet to do.

“Yeah,” Smitty breathes, pinching at John’s leg and quietly laughing when he slaps the bare one in retaliation. “Sounds nice.”

“Put some pants on first, okay? Your legs are as white as the moon and I’m not trying to pay for people’s eye visit when they get blinded by them.”

The chuckle, which is more of a giggle, that spills from Smitty’s lips makes him smile, proud he still has that affect, even after all these years.

“Fuck you.” Is the response he gets, followed by being shoved off, and he falls back on the couch with a laugh. Smitty stands over him on wobbly feet from the withered sofa, posing in a way that gets John’s heart swelling with love for the dork he’s fallen in love with. “My legs are a work of art, and don’t pretend they’re not what gets you all horny when I’m chilling in my boxers.”

“Well,” he shrugs, grinning at the eyebrow wiggling that’s currently being directed at him, “That’s true, but that doesn’t mean I want other people to get a peek at what’s mine.”

The blush that blooms over Smitty’s cheeks never gets old, especially when it’s accompanied with a bashful smile, and a grumble of “asshole” as he finally clambers down. He doesn’t make eye contact on the way to their room, but John lifts up on an elbow and stares after his retreating form, grin spreading wider when Smitty throws a look back, like always.

“This,” he says, pointing at his cheeks and definitely not blushing more when John raises his eyebrows, “Is because it’s hot in here, and not because of you.”

“Is it? I don’t mind trying to be the reason behind it, by trailing kisses down your legs, and biting at your inner thigh like I know you love.”

“Jesus.” Smitty breathes, hands briefly clenching into fists as his eyes never leave John’s. From the look he wears, John knows he’s thinking of similar times where he acted out on those words. “I...later, okay?”

John is certain this is his favorite sight; a blushing Smitty standing before him, lips red and bitten because he easily gets embarrassed when he asks for any sort of love from John. As if he isn’t always ready to show the man just how much he’s taken up John’s heart.

“Nah,” he shakes his head, smiling at the pout Smitty gives him, “Your ass is going to sleep later. We can always do it after, though. Be like those romantic couples and have morning sex. Or afternoon sex, technically, since morning is already almost here.”

And so maybe he’s the one who has to will away a blush, when Smitty smiles and looks at him like that. The expression that’s been deemed “to be young and in love” by their friends, when they throw a house party that consists of nothing but alcohol and stupid games. And as everyone piles in a circle, the two stick together, hands clasped with Smitty’s head finding a home in John’s lap.

“You’re a dork,” he whispers, tone soft as it drifts to where John still lays, as if he’s not sure how someone like John is even real. Which is funny, because John thinks the same, about Smitty.

“At least I don’t dance around the house half naked. That’s dorky.” He can’t help but lighten the mood, not because the love was too much or overbearing, but because the tired eyes of Smitty makes him want to leave and drive until he falls asleep, for however long his mind will let him.

Smitty rolls his eyes in the classic way he does, and spins around, yelling, “That was one time!”

“Still counts!” he calls back, falling against the couch and staring at the popcorn ceiling, grinning at the fond memory. “Although you should do it again! Coming home to that was something I’ll never forget, and I mean, it made sex that night that much more better too, right?”

The brief pause has him settling his hands behind his head, a little smug at what he knows is coming. “Shut up!” Is yelled back in a voice Smitty only uses when he’s either been embarrassed, or is passionate about something. Both could work, but John knows the first option is the likely contender.

It’s almost laughable, how nights like these go. On normal nights the two cuddle, and sometimes whisper fantasies about their future in a dark room, covered by a thin blanket that does a horrible job of keeping them warm. But then there are the sleepless ones, that should be filled with silence and a frustration for never knowing how to fix it, when eyes refuse to close and a mind rejects the possibility of staying quiet. Instead John can recall every one with a gentle remembrance, because it turns out those are the ones that hold the most joy, when neither have any clue on what to do. So they improvise, doing whatever comes to mind. They’ve played monopoly until the sun rose, baked a cake and ate it for breakfast, and even rearranged the whole apartment for the hell of it; the stereo had been set on low, but it was loud enough that Smitty would sing for John while he moved furniture around. And maybe the next day they got a noise complaint, but it was worth it when Smitty had passed out on the couch, and John had merely sat on the floor, painting his nails and thinking of what he could make for dinner.

“You falling asleep over there, old man?” Breaks through his thoughts, and John looks over, seeing Smitty leaning against the doorframe. He’s changed into sweats similar to John’s, but he’s thrown on simple shirt-one John bets is his. And he looks good, although Smitty always looks beautiful, even when he’s angry or crying with snot from a movie.

“Oh I’m old now, huh? Does that mean you’re going to take care of me and wipe my ass when my hands shake too much?” It’s a joke of course, but they’re probably a little too in love for anything other than confirmations of their endearments.

“I’ll take care of you so much it’ll drive you crazy. You’ll be begging to go off to some retirement home but there’d be no way I’d let you go.”

“I think I can handle that.” he smiles, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Smitty’s waist when the other has walked closer, stepping between his legs and into his awaiting embrace.

“Although,” Smitty starts, but John’s a bit preoccupied with the fingers running through his hair to do anything more than hum in acknowledgement, “I don’t know about the whole wiping ass thing. I might have to hire someone for that, or blackmail one of the guys into doing it.”

John’s got his face pressed against Smitty’s stomach, and his head moves with the movement of Smitty laughing, when John snorts. “I don’t trust any of those fuckers with my precious ass, they’d probably try and pull a prank on me or something. And I don’t want some stranger looking around down there, fuck that.”

Smitty exaggerates a sigh, and tugs a little on John’s hair until he looks up, staring into the bright eyes of his boyfriend. “Guess I’m the only one capable of handling you then. That’s too bad, I was really hoping for someone to finally understand what I put up with.”

“Hey,” he frowns, poking the others side, “I’m the best boyfriend and you love dealing with me.”

He closes his eyes when Smitty leans down, kissing his forehead before pulling away, although not without grabbing John’s hand and helping him up. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Guess we’ll never know.”

The hand in his is warm, soft, and John squeezes it as they leave, pausing to lock the door behind them. “Now that’s just cruel. I thought you were the sweet one?”

Smitty’s got a little bounce in his step as they walk down the stairs, and the look he throws over his shoulder nearly makes John trip in his rush to keep up. “C’mon, John. After everything we do in the bedroom, you still think I’m the sweet one?”

As they walk to the car, huddled close from the slight wind, John gets hit with an all too familiar feeling, of wondering how someone like Smitty exists, and how he’s chosen him to fall for. It’s a question he thinks about in moments in like these, but the realization is always met with a fond smile and no further questions asked, because Smitty is right next to him, holding his hand as if he doesn’t ever want to let go. And that’s all the answer he needs.

They end up at a McDonalds thirty minutes later, sitting in a dirty booth and sharing fries. Smitty’s got a milkshake he sips on, occasionally holding the straw out for John to try, and it’s so ridiculous he can’t help but love it.

“So why’d you want to come here again?” He asks, popping overly salted fries into his mouth-he complains about the place, but that doesn’t stop him from thinking about ordering more fries, and possibly chicken nuggets, for them to eat.

Smitty shrugs, waiting until he’s finished sipping on the shake to answer. “I dunno. I was craving something sweet, and I thought about ice cream, but we don’t have any spoons and there isn’t any place open where we could sit and enjoy it anyways. So, milkshake it is.”

“You do know they sell ice cream here, right?” It’s entirely possible Smitty doesn’t know, but the deadpan look he gives John tells him otherwise.

“As if the ice cream here could even be considered real ice cream. I’m talking about creamy, smooth, icy ice cream from a pint you get at supermarkets.”

“I think you might be a little too obsessed.”

“Yeah?” Smitty eyes him over his drink, the straw pausing just shy of his lips as they lift in a smile, “Who’s the one who drove around for two hours at midnight looking for a certain Snapple flavor?”

“And? That was then, and tonight we’re at McDonalds because you were craving ice cream at three in the morning.” At Smitty’s eye roll he grins, nudging the others leg under the table, “See, you can’t win against me. I was in debate class in middle school, I can argue with you for days. Try me.”

“I’m more concerned with why you’re in public wearing goddamn spongebob squarepants slippers.” They both take a peek under the table, and John wiggles his foot, meeting Smitty’s raised eyebrow with a half shrug.

“They’re comfortable,” he says at first, and then thinks back to when he got them, adding with a smile, “And you got them for me, so why wouldn’t I want to show them off?”

“Because they were meant to be a joke, John. And besides if you’re okay with wearing those why don’t I ever see you wearing that sweater I got you last year? Or that cowboy hat, huh? Those were half-assed gifts I have yet to see you flaunt around.”

“Okay, so, that’s a very good point,” he starts, popping several fries into his mouth and smiling around them when Smitty narrows his eyes. “But it turns out I lost them, sorry.”

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure I saw the sweater buried underneath all your old shirts you never even wear anymore.”

He flings his hands in the air, grinning at the amused huff from Smitty, “When did this turn into me and my wardrobe? We were talking about your weird food cravings at unholy hours in the morning!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I want to eat weird things when I can’t sleep.”

The cup of fries is starting to get low, and so John knows they’ll be leaving soon, but he admits it’s been nice here, just talking in a smelly booth with bright lights overhead.

“It’s okay babe, we all have weird sides to us. I don’t judge you, promise.” He finishes with an innocent smile, and Smitty snorts, knocking his hand that lays on the table.

They only sit for a few more minutes before they’re up and leaving, waving bye to the yawning teen that stands at the counter. When they get inside the car John turns to Smitty, raising an eyebrow, hand ready at the keys.

“Where to next?”

Smitty in turn looks out the window, distant gaze in his eyes as he thinks about all the possibilities he could choose from. John doesn’t ever really have a say, but he doesn’t mind that. He doesn’t mind being the one driving wherever he needs, doesn’t care on how far away the destination is, because his only concern is Smitty and his gradual decrease into sleep.

“How does the beach sound?”

It’s about an hour away from them, but John only smiles and turns the keys, stereo immediately blasting the slow hum of rap Smitty loves. The kind that’s more about the music, the rhythmical beat that pumps through them in the background.

“Sounds like a good time.” And it does, although any time spent with Smitty is considered good in John’s book.

The ride there is relaxing, a peaceful journey as the city lights flash over them. Besides the low hum of whatever song is playing, it’s quiet in the car, both of them choosing not to talk and instead enjoy the pleasant feeling from just being with each other. Halfway through Smitty rolls the window down, to stick his hand out and let it dangle against the door, smile at the breeze that feels as if it’s caressing him. And at every red light John will glance over, admiring the view of a content Smitty, with his soft eyes and dream-like quirk of the lips.

“What are you thinking about?” John asks at one point, when it feels like they’ve been driving for longer than forty minutes.

He can’t turn to see Smitty’s expression, but the eyes that bore into his side makes his insides ignite, and so he can’t help himself, when he takes a quick peek, seeing the other leaned up against the door and looking entirely at ease. “Nothing. That’s the great thing.”

John doesn’t have to question that. He knows what that’s meant to mean, and silently he cheers, because it entails that what they’re doing is working. Smitty has only been in John’s life for five years, and even since then Smitty has had to deal with insomnia and it’s gripping ways. And since before then, too, he had told John. It’s been in ongoing thing for however long Smitty has been dealing with his personal demons, but John’s got a few of his own and together they help each other. John’s got a tighter control over his, but every once in a while that control loosens and spills over, but Smitty is always there to help him put everything back, help lessen the weight they used to carry.

Smitty is someone John thought he’d never have, in that he always thought love wasn’t for him, or that maybe the wondrous phenomenon believed he wasn’t fit for it. And yet it found him anyways, in the form of a stumbling drunk boy falling into him at a house party, and declaring that John was the hottest guy he’d ever seen. Occasionally John likes to bring up that story just to tease Smitty, but Smitty’s nice enough to leave out the part where John got so nervous he threw up on the other’s shoes.

The next twenty minutes fly by, and soon the sound of ocean waves rings through the car, enticing them near with its soothing noise. With a quick glance at each other, they seem to be thinking the same thing, and in an instant they’re hopping out of the car and racing toward the shore. The view is breathtaking, and John slows down as they get closer, but Smitty keeps running, not stopping until his ankles are submerged in the cold water.

Beaches have never really been his thing, but they’re otherworldly at a certain time, and nearing 5am is one of those occasions. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but the air around them gives warning signs to its debut, and so he finds a place in the sand and sits. His hair gets blown in every direction from the wind, but he ignores it in favor of watching Smitty, who kicks and splashes by himself. He can’t recall the last time his boyfriend has looked so free, and it’s a stunning sight. Briefly he thinks about taking out his phone and capturing the moment with a picture, but it feels wrong, impersonal, even if he’s the one doing it. This is something Smitty has needed, that much is clear, and John doesn’t want to invade the bubble that’s been wrapped around the two.

Time is nonexistent at a place like this, during a period where they have the whole beach to themselves, with the exception of the seagulls that fly above every now and then. It’s an indescribable experience he prays he never forgets. There’s something magical about being somewhere most wouldn’t, at a time like this, with the person you love, he learns. It’s exhilarating, yet inanimate, like they’ve been captured in a still photo, of a life from people they could only dream of being. The sensation is a little overwhelming, but in the best possible way, and so he holds onto it with a fierce grip.

Smitty comes back to him after some time has passed of just standing amidst the waves, and admiring the expansion of water that stretches out in front of them. He’s got an untroubled smile dancing on his lips, and elation swims through his eyes.

“You have fun out there?” He asks when Smitty gets closer, and the other nods, plopping down beside him and getting John’s legs wet when Smitty crosses their ankles together.

“It’s...incredible. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced.” John understands that, and so instead of saying anything he leans back on his elbows, and just admires everything he can, with the person he loves sitting next to him.

They stay long enough to see the sun rise, and that in itself leaves them speechless. He’s watched the beginnings of dawn only once, when he was a kid, but he can hardly remember the colors that swam before his eyes. Now is different, because he’s old enough to grasp how impactful it is, to see such a sublime greatness. It lights up the ocean, reflecting a beautiful golden ray, and at some point Smitty grabs his hand, and John thinks he must be thinking the same thing, feeling what he’s been reduced to.

“What are you thinking about now?” He asks once its risen high enough. There’s a huffed laugh, and John looks over, seeing Smitty already staring at him with a look in his eyes John has never seen. But he gets the feeling he wears the same expression.

Smitty leans closer, teasing grin tugging on his lips, and John can’t help but have his own lift in return. Within seconds they’re inches apart, and John can’t be blamed when his eyes flicker down to admire lips he gets the satisfaction of kissing everyday.

“I’m thinking...about those god awful slippers ruining my experience of watching the sun come up.”

The laugh that escapes him is quick and loud, a sound of surprise at the comment. Smitty’s eyes light up, and his hand crawls up John’s arm, leaving chills to rise where they travel, all the way until they settle in his hair.

“You saying they aren’t as pretty as that view?”

Smitty noses slightly at his, lips dancing across his cheeks, and John closes his eyes at the feel. “I’m saying I regret buying them for you.”

“What if I bought you a matching pair, huh? If we went out and found you some patrick ones?” It comes out as a whisper, because with Smitty as close as he is, he finds it hard to breathe properly.

The hushed murmur of “deal” fans across his face, and he anticipates for a kiss. After a few seconds of nothing he blinks an eye open, huffing at the smile that stares back at him.

“Sorry,” Smitty breathes, a hint of a giggle laced through his words, “Was admiring the view.”

“Well stop admiring and kiss me already, I’m too old to be waiting on you, remember?”

There isn’t an answer, only lips finally meeting his, and hands tugging at his hair. He reciprocates with just as much passion, leaning forward and grasping a waist he can squeeze and nip at all night, if given the chance. And kissing Smitty, he thinks, is the best experience the world has blessed him with. It’s a worldliness many seek to own, how millions spend their whole lives searching for what he gets to have everyday. It makes him kiss gentler, instead of hurried, because his same journey for it ended that night five years ago, and so there’s no hurry, for this cosmic tenderness.

They stay for a bit longer, basking in the unearthly feeling that encompasses them as they sit, saying nothing but hearing everything, in the silence. Every now and then he’ll glance over at Smitty, and when the other’s blinks start lasting for seconds and sometimes minutes, John knows it’s time to go. He gives a soft nudge, smiling when Smitty blearily peers up at him, offering a gentle smile.

“C’mon,” he says, slowly standing and holding out his hand for the other to take. “Time for bed.”

Smitty is a bit slow during the walk back to the car, trudging behind a bit, but the hand in his is strong, as it grips back and soothes a thumb over his knuckles. The salty air follows them and makes a home in the car, but it serves as a reminder for this whole escapade. He keeps the windows rolled down as he reverses, and gives a little salute to the ocean as he drives off.

At the first red light he encounters he looks over at Smitty, smiling when he sees the others head leaning against the seat, mouth slightly opened as he sleeps, finally. It’s possibly the best sight he’s ever witnessed, even given where they just came from, and the thought has his heart pounding faster, clenching tighter, because he’s never loved anyone as much as he loves Smitty. It’s a scary realization, and maybe if he was younger, he’d be more afraid, like he was that first year with Smitty, but now he keeps driving, humming under his breath, because it’s welcomed with open arms. And it’s a familiar sensation he looks forward to, when he gets to spend everyday with someone as enchanting as who he’s fallen for.

#krii7y #smii7y #kryozgaming #i tried to make it as fluffy as possible #so i hope it came out that way #also you guys should definitely check out the song stupid now by drew monson #because oh boy did the vibes of that help in writing this #and anyways i hope you all liked it!#writings

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buckys-other-punk · 7 years

Text

Find You (Jealous Part 3)

Bucky x Reader, (slight) Steve x Reader

Warnings: Angst (if you call it that), drama (I guess) and a missing person. Also darkness (I mean if your scared of the dark)

Word Count: 620 (w/o lyrics)

Song inspiration: “Find You” Nick Jonas (again w/ the Nick Jonas song)

A/N: Ok you guys here it is part 3! I hope it is good guys. Also I like speed read this so don’t mind my mistakes guys. Please let me know if you wanna be tagged just let me know!

@caplansteverogers @hollycornish @carabarnes13 @ohmyjack @sebtheromanianprince @flirtswithdanger @aquabrie @amour-quinn @incoherent-smiles @rocketqueeens @anbrax5553 @lloeppky @shayla-markele @pdy93 @sarahp879

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I looked for you in the center of the sun I took a pill but it didn't help me numb I see your face even when my eyes are shut But I never really know just where to find you I chase the words that keep falling out your mouth You got a logic I'll never figure out If I could hold you then I'd never put you down But I never really know just where to find you

Steve gave up on helping his best friend. He wanted to check up on (Y/N) and try and convince her to come out of her room. He knocked on the door, “(Y/N)? Please come out and eat something it’s been days.” No response. He sighed as he twisted the knob and he enter the room. He looked around looking for the girl he liked. He began to panic, looking everywhere and she wasn’t there.

Where to find you Where to find you But I never really know just where to find you Try, try, try, but I Try, try, try, but I, but I Try, try, try, but I But I never really know just where to find you

Steve was furious. He had thought that Bucky had done something even more hurtful to (Y/N). He stormed into the gym where Bucky was training. Bucky was sparing with Sam in the center of the gym and Clint was observing. “WHERE THE HELL IS SHE BUCKY?” he yelled at his so called best friend. All three men stopped what they were doing and looked at Steve questionably. Steve walked up face to face with Bucky and pulled at his shirt with a clenched fist.

You think you know how to get under my skin It's okay for now but it's never permanent Knock on the door but there's no one listening And I never really know just where to find you You look for love but you never really try You say it's not but it's always on your mind Keep chasing gold but you lose the silver lining And I never really know just where to find you

Bucky was astonished at what Steve said. “What the hell are you talking about?” he replied shoving Steve’s clenched fist off his shirt. Sam and Clint were utterly confused. Steve looked around at the others in astonishment. “I can’t believe you Bucky!” Steve scoffed and said “I went to check up on (Y/N) and surprisingly her room was unlocked. I called out her name and she wasn’t there.” Steve sighed, “Bucky, I’ve checked the entire tower and she’s gone.”

Where to find you Where to find you But I never really know just where to find you Try, try, try, but I Try, try, try, but I, but I Try, try, try, but I But I never really know just where to find you

“Maybe she went out to get air.” Bucky huffed. “Bucky, just think for one goddamn minute. How long has she been in her room for?” Steve replied. Bucky and the other two stared blankly at Steve. Steve yelled, “5 Days! 5 DAYS GUYS!” All three men looked at one another in astonishment. “We have to start looking for her.” Clint said. Steve and Sam nodded in agreement with Clint and began to exit the training area.

Maybe, I'm chasing a feeling Maybe, I don't even need it Maybe you're looking for me tonight, tonight

Bucky remained in his spot. Blinking in shock. How could this happen? Bucky began to walk out of the gym, but stopped. He thought to himself, Was this all because of me? He exhaled and looked at his reflection near the exit door. He pulled a chain from under his shirt. Attached to the chain was (Y/N)’s wedding ring. The beautiful diamonds glistened under the lights of the gym. The same wedding ring she threw at him. Bucky felt a single tear go down his face and land in his hand next to the ring. (Y/N) please be alright. He said to himself.

I look for you in the center of the sun I took a pill but it didn't help me numb I see your face even when my eyes are shut But I never really know just where to find you

They used the Avenger’s database to find (Y/N), but she was never to be seen. Everyone at the tower tried to help find their friend. Natasha and Clint traveled around the world trying to find any clues of (Y/N)’s whereabouts. Bruce and Tony tried their best to use all the knowledge they had to find her. Bucky and Steve did everything in their power to find their girl. Steve was so worried and stayed up every night to find the girl he liked. Bucky on the other hand tried to remain calm, but his fear of (Y/N) dead got to him. Each night he would have the same dream, it was a replay on the mission that broke them apart.

Where to find you Where to find you But I never really know just where to find you

There she was...Where was she? She looked around, but all she saw as darkness. She looked up at the sky and saw a full moon. You see you would imagine a beautiful full moon all bright and white, but no. The moon and stars were all one color...Blood Red. Her eyes widened in awe. Where the hell is she?

AAANNNDD END OF PART 3!!! OMG guys did you like this? I hope you did. Let me know if you want a part 4. Also if you have any ideas where the reader is let me know!! Ohh and what should be my next song inspiration?

#bucky x reader #you x bucky #bucky barnes #steve x reader #steve rogers #you x steve #marvel #oh my god #im dyin yall #is it good?#screaming

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chokememrstark · 7 years

Text

Requiem Of Memories // Part 2

Ship: Samifer (Sam Winchester / Lucifer)

Words: 1847 (Chapter 2 / 15)

Fic Summary: Sam feels awful and hopeless in his new situation, not even a visit from Lucifer can give him any distraction. He's not surprised when the angel tells him that he can't bring him back, it's impossible to bring himself to care for that or the other things Lucifer has to say.

angst, hurt & comfort, alternative universe, au!lucifer, mourning, depression, blood and gore, nightmares, loneliness

Note: I highly recommend to read Nightmares Become Reality before this, otherwise the premise of the story and the setting might not make much sense.

Tagging: @shebahda @sassysupernaturalsweetheart @spnyoucantkeepmedown @brieflymaximumprincess @kajuned @archingangel @this-darkness-light @dreamreaded @secretlydaydreaminglifeaway @humongouscandycoffee

If you want off the tag list or want to be added, just drop me an ask or IM!

Read on AO3!

The day passed without Sam doing anything. At around noon - at least Sam thought it was noon, there were no clocks in this room - another demon knocked on his door and brought him food, but this time he didn’t talk to her. He waited until she was gone, then got up and inspected the second door of the room, which led to a bathroom as he had expected. After taking care of his human needs, including eating, Sam just laid down again and stared back at the ceiling. It was the beginning of a routine he would know perfectly very soon.

Sam’s complete numbness lasted, but only during the day. Once it got dark outside - Sam didn’t bother lighting the lamp because he didn’t get up anyway - the memories of what had happened came back and he had no way to hide from them. There was very little sleep and the few hours he got each night were torturous and painful. Most of the time Sam spent pressing his face into the pillow, sobbing and begging for forgiveness from someone who was dead and gone. He couldn’t stop his heart from breaking all over again night after night, a feeling that was so agonizing and destructive that it seemed to affect his mere soul. Every breath felt wrong, every heartbeat like betrayal and there was nothing he could do to ease any of it.

Lucifer didn’t show up for almost a week, it was always demons who brought Sam food and water and even new clothes from time to time. If he would have wanted, he could have gotten up and left his room - the door was open as far as he knew - but even thinking about that made him feel awful and weak. He couldn’t tell how many demons were there, but he didn’t care for them. As much as they didn’t seem to care for him, judging by the disgusted looks they gave him. When Lucifer finally returned, Sam was once again sitting on the bed, staring into nothingness and lost in his own thoughts.

The angel took a chair from the table and put it in front of Sam’s bed to sit down, to which the hunter eventually looked up. Lucifer wore a similar black outfit as before, but this one was very torn and Sam noticed dried blood on it too. He didn’t seem to be coming from a fight though. His blue eye was not as piercing and cold as the first time Sam had met him, but he didn’t know if he could be thankful for that or not.

“I have bad news for you, Sam,” Lucifer began, leaning forward slowly. “There is no way for me to open a portal to your dimension, I’m afraid. It seems like it must be opened by the one who brought you here.”

“Yeah,” Sam huffed apathetic. “I figured.”

“I know you don’t want to be here, but I cannot send you back.”

“I don’t wanna go back,” Sam mumbled and wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling them closer to his body. “I don’t wanna go anywhere.”

“You can stay here if you want to, with me.”

Sam slowly looked up, torn between laughing and crying out loud. He could see the angel’s face and he seemed to be honest with his offer, but how could he do that? It felt like he betrayed Lucifer every time he was in the same room with this one, how could he stay? And at the same time, he knew too well what would happen if he refused and left. Whatever he would do, it would end bad, he knew it.

“You don’t want me here,” Sam eventually said quietly. “I won’t be useful to you.”

“So?” Lucifer asked and cracked a smirk. “You are not my servant, Sam. You are not my prisoner either.”

“What am I then?”

“My guest, if you wish to be,” Lucifer said sincerely.

“I’m not good company,” Sam muttered and rested his chin on his arms, not knowing what else to say. He felt strange to be invited as a guest by the very Devil himself, especially one that didn’t even know him. Something about this had to be a trap.

“I know what happened to you was painful and I will not force you to speak or do anything if you are not ready for it. This is your room, no one will enter it if you don’t want them to. If you wish, I can bring you books to pass the time. Until you feel better.”

“Thank you, really, but I don’t know how I could feel better…” Sam sighed. “I don’t even feel like myself anymore. It’s like I died in there too…”

“You will again, someday,” Lucifer said quietly and then, out of the blue, reached out with his hand and laid it on Sam’s. The hunter’s eyes snapped open and he pushed himself away so fast he almost hit his head on the wall at the sudden touch. “I apologize,” Lucifer quickly said and pulled his hand back. “I’m not used to comforting others, I didn’t mean to upset you any further.”

“No, I… I mean you didn’t…” Sam shook his head, a weird knot in his stomach. “You didn’t upset me. I just… don’t wanna be touched. Sorry.”

“Of course,” Lucifer nodded, a hint of shame on his face. “I know it seems strange that I offer you to stay as my guest, given that I don’t know you and you could be dangerous, but I feel the need to keep you safe. I cannot explain it, but you don’t belong here, you don’t know this world and you would be in danger out there alone. I don’t want to hurt you, I’m serious.”

“I don’t think you want to hurt me,” Sam said, blushing slightly at those words. He felt a sudden warmth in his guts and he didn’t like it. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do here.”

“Rest, for starters. When you feel better, you can always make new plans. Nothing will harm you here, I have instructed everyone to treat you with respect.”

“Everyone?” Sam asked surprised. “How many are everyone?”

“A few,” Lucifer smiled. “We are not many, maybe a hundred loyal servants and me. But this place is as safe as possible, no one can find it and no one can harm you here. I only advise you not to try to escape on your own, you won’t make it far.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told that already,” Sam huffed. “I won’t try to escape, don’t worry.”

“Good, I would hate to see you die trying. Now, if you’ll excuse me, duties are calling.” Lucifer stood up and brought the chair back where he took it from before looking at Sam again. “If you need me, just pray to me like you did before. I will hear you, no matter where I am.”

“Okay,” Sam nodded slowly. “I will.”

“Whatever it might be worth, I am sorry for your loss, Sam,” Lucifer said, a hand already on the door handle. “No one deserves to go through this.”

“Thank you,” Sam sighed, the weird warmth in him spreading against his will. “And thank you for taking me in.”

“Of course,” Lucifer nodded and finally left the room, leaving the human alone once again.

Sam didn’t know what to think of this. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt so bad for jerking away or where this strange feeling inside of him came from, but it was scary. This was the literal Devil - and not the one he knew, the one who was once capable of feeling and even remorse. This world alone was proof for it! So what on earth was his plan?

“Maybe he doesn’t have a plan,” Sam mumbled to himself, surprised by his own thought. Could that be? After all, this Lucifer seemed to be sorry for what happened to Sam, even if it could just be very good acting. But if it wasn’t, maybe he really just wanted to help him.

Sam sighed and looked out of the window, into the light purple sky. He had absolutely no clue what any of this meant or why he was still alive. If only he could have had more time with Lucifer and didn’t act like a stubborn child that wasted time arguing instead of listening. Now it was too late, he knew that. Lucifer was dead and even though he couldn’t be sure, he knew there was no coming back this time. Just when they started to find their mutual understanding again everything had gone downhill.

He sat like this for a long time, leaning his head against the wall and watching the sky turn into the darkness it was at night. The cold began creeping into the room, forcing him to wrap the blanket around himself, but other than that he didn’t move at all. There were too many questions, too many answers he would never know now. He never thought things would end like this. All this time he was sure that one day they would be forced to fight each other again and it would end with both of them dead. Now some otherworldly creature had taken Lucifer’s life in complete vain and Sam was left alone, mourning the death of the one being that he was supposed to hate even though he never could.

It was shortly after the huge, bright moon came into full view of his window that Sam finally drifted away into a dreamless and deep sleep, sliding down the window and wall until he laid completely still in his bed. It was the first night without nightmares haunting him and without waking up in cold sweat with a scream stuck in his throat, but for Sam it was even worse in a way. When he woke up he felt the weight of guilt in his stomach that made him nauseous. Seeing Lucifer die and suffer, without being able to do anything, was torture but at least he saw his face. Now that he didn’t dream at all, the feeling of loss that was eating him alive was worse than ever before.

Sam covered his face with his hands when the first tears fell, unable to stop them. It wasn’t just loss and grief, those tears were much worse and bitter. Sam finally realized the true meaning of Lucifer’s death and in this moment wished for nothing more than the ground to open and devour him to end this agony. It was all lost, for now until the end of his life. He would never feel whole again, he would never be able to fill the emptiness in his soul without Lucifer. They were created to complete each other, now he was alone and shattered and there was nothing he could do to fix it. No amount of crying and begging and pleading would bring Lucifer back. When this thought overwhelmed him, all he wanted was to die.

#samifer #sam x lucifer #sam winchester #spn lucifer #requiem of memories #myfics #multi chapter fic #angst #chapter 2

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salvationinthestars · 7 years

Photo

Fly Me to the Moon

Lights flash, bathing the dock in blood red. Sirens sound as Zach screams to be heard over them.

“What the hell? What’s going on?”

“Don’t know. Think we got hit.”

“By what?”

“No clue. Maybe part of an asteroid. I don’t know.”

I don’t hear his response as a crash sounds and the ship shakes, forcing us to brace. Zach studies the nonsensical readings of the gauges while I frantically call out for mission control, only to be met with static.

“Ah, fuck me.” I yell, slamming my hand on the receiver.

“I’ll see if I can get it online. You wanna check the damage and see what you can fix?” I nod at Zach’s request and punch the code into the bay door. Nothing happened.

“We’re completely offline!”

“Fuck!” Zach yells as I try to force the doors open. I break open the control panel and manually override the system lock temporarily. Finally, the door groans open just enough for me to squeeze through. I make my way to the engine room. My heart drops as I hear the roar from down the hall. There’s a complete breach. A hole in the ship. I take a breath to settle myself and move to the window to survey the damage and see what I can do.

The floor seems to drop out from under me as I observed the damage. The entire outer wall was ripped out. That would take weeks to repair with equipment we don’t have, and even then we wouldn’t be able to make it through re-entry. Parts of the engine were missing. There was nothing I could do. Twelve years of training, and I’m useless.

In a daze, I walk to the living quarters. Ducking through the door, I step over to Zach’s personal area. I shoved mementos in hastily, knowing that I was on a clock. But this needed to be done just in case. Moving to my side, I pick up a picture and a painted rock without looking at them. I couldn’t afford to lose control now.

Grabbing necessities such as pillows, blankets, and packets of food and water, I make my way back to the command dock. Zach is still running around frantically trying to connect with the communications systems. Thankfully he had gotten the sirens shut off, leaving only the backup lights to illuminate the dim area. I drop the bag in the corner and unzip it, pulling out a framed picture.

“Did you get it fixed?” Zach turns to face me. Silently, I hand him the photograph of his wife and children that he kept by his bed. His face immediately twisted into one of desperation.

“I’m sorry.” I try.

“What are you saying?”

“Zach, we’re not getting home.”

“Kath, you can fix anything on this thing. You just have to try.”

“I can’t fix this. The entire outer wall is gone in the engine room. Along with parts of the engine.”

“A tarp. Something!”

“Zach, you know the physics as well as I do. You know what this means.”

“Dammit Katherine!” He moves closer. “You can fix this!” Tears well in his eyes. “What about Matthew?”

I cringe at the mention of the fiancé I’d never see again.

“I know, Zach. I need you to focus. I need you for this, okay? How are the comms systems?”

“Down. They’re all down.”

“Okay. Focus on outward communications. We can send a message home.”

He calms substantially. “What exactly are we looking at?”

“Best case, the wall connecting the engine room to the ship doesn’t hold, the vent system fails, and we suffocate.”

“That’s the best case?”

“Worst case is the doors shut down the manual override and lock shut, trapping us in command floating uncontrollably until we starve. That’s. . . also the most likely.

He sighs. “Let’s get to work then.”

The communications technician expertly connects wires as I open the plate on the side of the door to access the mechanism. If the door locks, it won’t matter if the rest of the ship fails. Command was built to stand on its own in an emergency. Hell of an emergency. We worked in crushing silence, both aware of our own mortality and what we were working for. Me, to hasten our deaths. Him, to send out one last message.

After about two hours, a violent quake rocks the ship, knocking me from my ladder. I swear and brace myself against the nearest wall, holding my now injured ankle. I hear a loud ratcheting, and I scream in frustration as I hear my work being undone. The door groans closed and sparks shoot from the panel. My worst fear is realized. I sit, staring blankly at the now impenetrable door. I know my mouth is open, but no sound comes out.

“Kath? What happened? Come on, talk to me.”

I stutter a few times before whispering, “we’re trapped.” Zach looks at the ground for a moment before crossing to the large med kit on the wall. He sits in front of where I’m slumped against the wall and reaches for my leg.

“Let me look at your ankle.”

I let him manipulate my sprained ankle, grimacing as he splints and wraps it. I try to crack a cheesy joke, and he laughs without a trace of sadness. In this moment, I’m incredibly grateful for him.

“Okay, I guess I should get back to work on those communications. You rest, okay?”

“Fuck you”, I laugh as I stand up.

He grins. “What are you gonna do, Kath? Fix the comms for me?”

“I have another project in mind that utilizes my skillset more effectively.” I say mysteriously. He rolls his eyes dramatically and climbs under the communications panel once again. I limp to the ship-wide speaker system. About 45 minutes later, I connected two wires and heard the crackling of the speaker. I tweaked another wire and smiled as I heard the first strains of Elton John’s Rocket Man. Before the launch, NASA had allowed Zach and I to create a master playlist for the ship. Because the trip was only supposed to be two months, we thought it would be funny to pick as many space themed songs as we could. A fitting soundtrack for the end of our world.

Zach laughs and begins to sing along as he works. Two songs later, he finally announces he has the outward communications online. We prepare to send our final message. With a grim expression, he presses the button and begins to speak. I watch morosely.

“Mission control. Exploration to ground. Problem assessed. Exterior wall and engine compromised. It’s. . . it’s gone. Both specialists are trapped in the command dock. Mechanical specialist Chambers has determined that the locking system is permanently offline and unable to be overridden. We have limited rations and no control of the ship. We. . . we aren’t coming home.”

Zach hesitates before continuing. “Outbound communications are up. No other communication systems are online. We would both like this recording to be accessed by our families and anyone who it may be of interest to. I’ll start. My name is Zachary Roberts. I am a communications specialist serving what was expected to be a two month mission aboard the Exploration spacecraft. We were hit by debris at approximately 0900 hours. It has been an honor to serve my country. I have no regrets and thank everyone for allowing me this experience. Now, I’d like to address my family.

Annie, Elise, Daddy loves you more than anything. When I left, I told you that I’d be able to see you from up here. That’s still true. Now I’ll always be smiling down on you. When you get lonely at night, look for me. I’ll be the star closest to the moon. I’ve always been so proud of you both. No matter what you do in life, I will always be proud of you. Baby girls, take care of each other.

Abby, baby, I wish there were words to tell you how much I love you. And how sorry I am to be leaving you. I wish I could dry your tears. But I don’t want this to be your last memory of me. Remember when we first moved in together? That tiny little apartment in the city? Everyone said we were so stupid for moving in together so young. We so were, baby. We couldn’t even pay the electric bill. I just remember sitting on the floor of that apartment. It was almost pitch black. But the city lights were so pretty. They were enough to light up your beautiful face. I remember thinking how goddamn happy I was. How happy I still am. Every day with you has been magical, baby. Never forget how much I love you. How much I love our beautiful family.”

Zach’s voice finally cracks. “Abby, Annie, Elise, goodbye girls. I love you to infinity and beyond.”

He steps back and clears his throat. I don’t know what to say. Zach gestures to the comms. I step forward and feel my chest seize as I realize the power of my next words. For the first time, I realize with true clarity that I will never see Matthew again. I press the button.

“My name is Katherine Rose Chambers. I am the mechanical specialist on the Exploration Spacecraft. I’d like to thank NASA for this wonderful opportunity. I know they did everything they could. This. . . this will be my last transmission. I’d like to address my fiancé, Matthew Schoonover. And express my deep regret that I never got to be Katherine Schoonover.

Matt, I know that when you hear this, you’ll analyze every word. Just as I almost analyzed every word of this speech. But I decided to go into it not knowing what I was going to say. I’m just going to say what I feel. Know that behind every word is an incredible love. A love that I didn’t know was possible until I met you. I am so grateful to have been your Annabelle Lee, and we’ll always have the dream of our kingdom by the sea.

Matt, when I left, you said that the only way you could bear me being up here was knowing that we’d be reunited soon. Hon, we still have that. You know I’ve never believed in an afterlife. But if an afterlife means I get to see you again, I’ll believe with everything I have. Anything that lets me see your beautiful brown eyes again is worth believing. Matt, hon, I can’t kiss you goodbye. But I promise that wherever I end up, I’ll be waiting for you. Take your time. Enjoy your life and know that I’m with you. I love you. End transmission.”

I turned away with a ball in my throat. Zach was leaning against the back wall with tears streaking his face. We had just officially acknowledged our deaths. There was nothing left to do. We had said goodbye to everything we knew.

“I’ve never heard you speak like that. So. . . emotional.”

I sniffed and crossed to my friend as my eyes started to fill.

“It’s Matt.” I say as he embraces me and I let the tears fall. We slide down the wall and I lay my head on his shoulder.

“I know”, he says, resting his head on mine. We watch the infinite universe that we were now a part of through the front window.

“I know.”

Fly me to the Moon by Sinatra flows through the speaker system as we sit together. Two trusted coworkers. Two good friends. United in death and an endless universe.

Fly me to the Moon.

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