#i was tempted to do a moon version but my gods i already took so long just doing this one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crash-hawk · 3 years

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Crash, crash, burn, let it all burn, this hurricane’s chasing us all underground...

Since I recently re-released Three to read in its entirety on Tumblr, I thought I would do the same for the first chapter of the follow-up fic Hurricane: a series of short stories set in the Passerine-inspired Kaleidoscope AU, focusing on the intersections and parallels between the series’ Hermit cast and their DSMP neighbors. Chapter 1 is a direct follow-up to Three, taking place literally hours later, so it’s recommended that you read that one first!

Hurricane is a work in progress, with three chapters completed so far. The rest can be read on Archive of Our Own HERE.

(For a look at what’s going down in this AU’s version of Third Life, check out @lunarblazes‘ devastating Give Me Back My Heart, You Wingless Thing and @exactlymypoint‘s stellar To Stars and Void He Will Return.)

The morning after’s always a bitch.

crash, crash, burn

No matter how many times that you told me you wanted to leave

No matter how many breaths that you took, you still couldn’t breathe

No matter how many nights that you’d lie wide awake to the sound of the poison rain

Where did you go? Where did you go? Where did you go...?

- Thirty Seconds to Mars, “Hurricane”

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A strange hush falls over the island in the hours just before dawn. The moon sinks into the water, unnaturally bright against stars that seem pale and faded and unreal, and seems to take all sound and life with it; the ocean is a vast expanse of smooth glass that barely seems to lap at the shore.

The Queen of the Hunt notices, and it disturbs her.

She does not live with the others in the main village. She makes her home in a vast cavern on the far side of the island, beneath a quaint red-roofed house that’s more decoy than domicile. The house is for the young ones and the new ones, who don’t need to know what she truly is (although every once and again one will come seeking her specifically, usually one who’s seen her in the Starborn’s tournaments, and if they show promise and she has nothing better to do she will take them on.)

She does not live with the others, but she’s aware of the visitors who’d come to their shore the day before. She knows them well, one of them most of all. Her own dark mirror; sometimes her twin and sometimes a stranger, sometimes an ally and more often an enemy. His presence here, in this place meant specifically to keep him out, infuriates her, because she knows it for what it is: both an implicit threat and a deliberate insult on the part of the one who’d brought him along. The thought of marching into the village and demanding that the interlopers state their intent was tempting, the thought of demanding that they leave even more so. But she and her shadow have always been flint and steel, and with each hour that passes the island feels more and more like dry kindling. The Huntress tells herself that no matter what happens, she will not be the one to strike the spark.

She wanders along the northern shoreline, not knowing why, not knowing where she’s going or what she’s looking for. It feels like she’s waiting for something, some coin to drop, some axe to fall.

And then it does.

The land around her has grown sere and scrubby, gnarled oaks making way for the flat-crowned acacia trees local to the northwestern point of the island. A huge mountain, ridged and buttressed like a castle, bulks to the sky, black against the dim, faded stars. She can see lights glowing softly from the windows of the homes her friends have built there.

A scream suddenly bursts from one of the windows.

It shatters the night into a thousand fragments, echoing from stone and tree and water, freezing the Huntress down to the bone because she recognizes it, would know the voice anywhere. That’s Etho screaming, screaming and screaming in terror and agony and something else, something that sounds dangerously close to madness--the Huntress has heard enough screams in her life to know.

She’s running before she’s even aware of it, her bow materializing in her hand from thin air, as dawn crawls over the eastern horizon behind her in a silent white line.

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Something’s wrong.

It pulses through Pearl’s mind in an insistent feedback loop, crowding out thought as they make their way back down the shore toward the village. George rambles on at her side, the most he’s spoken since she can remember, the most he’s spoken in millennia, she thinks, ever since the old forests were a new thing too huge with potential for her to govern alone. There are other siblings, of course, other gods of life and change and growth, but he is one of the youngest, and the most sensitive. So she smiles and tries her best to listen as he talks and talks and talks, about his woods and his dreams and his nightmares and waking up choking on ash, about his animal friends and the valley he made bloom in honor of one that he lost, about the unlikely friendships she still doesn’t understand, treasure hunts and near misses and the universe saying I’m going to be the best thing that ever happened to you.

“Granted, they’re both idiots, Sapnap especially,” he says, smiling. “But…”

“But they’re your idiots,” Pearl finishes with an answering smile. She can’t help it, she’s all too familiar with the phenomenon. And yet the maddening refrain continues: something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong.

To the east, dawn paints the sky in fragile seashell colors, washing out stars already strangely faint. They’re close, now; Pearl can see the massive, irregular shadow of Scar’s ore pile and the dim violet glow from Grian’s observatory. There are few lights lit, and even though she knows that logically everyone’s probably still asleep, it still sits wrongly. Even at this distance, the village feels shuttered, empty, dead.

“It’s so quiet,” George murmurs. Pearl turns to him, seeing anxiety in his eyes, in the way his arms wrap around himself. He feels it too.

“Some of them should be up by now,” Pearl says absently. “Bdubs at least, he’s staying at Impulse’s house this week and he’s always up and out with the sun, I don’t--”

“I think they’re all still there,” George interrupts, pointing down the beach, to where the the last embers of the campfire still glow dully in the early morning gloom. “It looks like they all fell asleep there.”

Pearl looks, and fear washes over her like ice water.

They’re arranged around the campfire in a ring, the way they gather almost every night if the weather permits. Twenty-some people, it looks like, almost the entire village. Some are still mostly upright, slumped against each other or against the logs of driftwood. Others lie sprawled awkwardly in the sand or curled up tight against the wind. Only one remains alert, prodding idly at the embers as they roast something on a stick.

Footsteps crunch in the sand behind them, making her jump, but she doesn’t turn around. They don’t look like they’re sleeping. Their poses are too awkward, too uncomfortable, as if they’d all been struck by the same bolt of lightning and simply lay as they fell. They look--

“There you are,” complains the approaching voice, all smoke and grit. “I’ve been looking for you all godsdamned night.”

“Sapnap--”

Pearl breaks into a run.

George shouts something after her, but she doesn’t hear it. She runs for the campfire, her cloak and hood flying out behind her, heart pounding in her head and chest and throat.

The one still awake looks up as she skids to a halt in the sand, smiling. “Morning,” he greets. “Breakfast? There’s fish enough for four.”

Pearl ignores him. Up close, she can see that the younger ones do seem to be asleep, piled up on each other in awkward configurations and snoring quietly, but the others...the others…

“What have you done,” she gasps, before she’s even aware of what she means to say.

“What do you mean, what have I done,” Dream asks, blinking. His voice and expression are the picture of bafflement, but his eyes are amused, glittering jade in the light of the rising sun. “I was making breakfast. They’re asleep.”

Impulse still sits next to Dream, slumped over the half-finished clock in his lap, head bowed. Beside him, Bdubs is face down in the sand. She can’t tell if they’re breathing or not. Across the campfire Scar lies curled on his side, arms crossed loosely in front of his face as if to ward off a blow. And beside him--

“Grian!”

For a terrible, terrible moment, Pearl is certain that he’s dead. He lies sprawled on his back, limbs bent awkwardly, boneless and loose as if he’d fallen out of the sky. His wings are invisible, still cloaked, and that’s wrong, Grian can’t hide his wings unless he’s conscious enough to think about it--

She drops to her knees beside him, laying one hand on his chest, the other cupping his cheek. She feels him draw in a breath and sobs, vision blurring with relief. So slow, though, a full minute going by before he draws another, and he’s so cold. Grian isn’t supposed to be cold. Grian is quicksilver and solar flares and lightning in a bottle, rambling speech and manic laughter and too-warm hugs. His fire is gone, his wings are gone. Grian is gone. What lies on the beach beneath her hands is nothing more than a placeholder. A shell. And she knows as certain as moonrise that if she were to go to the others, to lay her hands on their hearts, she would feel the same.

“What have you done?!” she repeats, pale eyes returning to Dream’s.

Dream simply looks back at her, impassive, the unnerving smile still on his face. “Nothing they didn’t ask for.”

“They would never ask for this,” she hisses, standing slowly. She can feel rage beginning to gather in her core, flowing down into her limbs like white fire.

“Dream?” she hears George ask from behind her, quick footsteps shuffling through the sand. “What happened?”

For a heartbeat, she sees the Green God’s expression flicker, a split second of something that might have been surprise or nerves or fear. She doesn’t know, and doesn’t care. Her rage is an incandescent, living thing, as though she’d swallowed a piece of the sun.

“I told her,” he says. “They’re asleep. Dreaming. They asked for a story, and I told one. I might’ve...gotten a bit carried away, but they haven’t been harmed, George. At all. They’ll wake soon enough--”

“They are not asleep!” Pearl cries, and suddenly there’s a spear in her hand, the curved head glittering silver in the misty sunlight. “Do you take me for an idiot? You’ve left their bodies here scattered like so many empty seashells, thinking I couldn’t tell the difference. They’re not here! What have you done to them, you lying bastard?”

In the space between heartbeats a white-cloaked shadow suddenly appears at her side, obsidian blade leveled inches from her neck. “Put it down,” the War God snarls. “Now.”

“No,” she says, not even bothering to look at him.

“You’d break guest right?” Dream asks, still smiling congenially, stepping forward so Pearl’s spearhead rests just below his collarbone. “Your little commune holds that sacred, doesn’t it? You’d run me through in the sight of the sun, in front of your ‘brother’? Well, go on, then. I’m right here. I won’t even dodge. Your place, your rule.”

“Pearl, Sapnap, stop,” she hears George cry, dismayed. “Dream, what the hell’s gotten into you??”

Pearl’s hands tighten around the polished ashwood haft of the spear. The rage in her is burning agony. And yet she can’t move.

The Green God smiles, his eyes the color of acid and chlorine and radiation. “I know you,” he whispers. “I’ve known you since you were formed. You’re not cut out for this role. You don’t have it in you.”

There’s a sudden ‘twang’ and a puff of sand as an arrow strikes deeply into the beach a bare millimeter from Dream’s ankle. Another grazes Sapnap’s cheekbone a second later, drawing a thin line of blood.

“You’re no guests of mine,” a woman’s voice calls from a point above and behind them. “And I do.”

The War God’s sword jerks away from her neck, and Pearl’s paralysis breaks. She whirls, her spear falling from shaking, nerveless fingers, to see False, Lady of War, Queen of the Hunt, standing atop a wave-beaten spar of rock, longbow nocked and drawn. Nor is she alone: beside her stand Iskall of the Mountains, his stone sword carved with runes and shimmering with enchantment, and Wels, Guardian of the Gates of Hell, in full dark armor and wielding a battleaxe the color of smoke.

“You,” Sapnap spits, black eyes narrowed and full of venom.

“Me,” False agrees.

“What the hell,” Iskall thunders, fire glinting in his eye, “did you do to Etho.”

Dream rolls his eyes. “Stars, Void, and In-Between, how many of you are there?”

“More than you’d believe,” Wels answers. “This is our place. Our home. And I think it’s high time you returned to yours.”

“You’ve outstayed your welcome,” the Huntress states flatly, her normally blue eyes as black as Sapnap’s as they drill into Dream. “I suggest that you and both of your friends get in your boat and leave. Right now.”

“Mm,” Dream looks up at the sky for a moment, as if thinking. “And if I don’t care to leave just yet? I never got to read the ending to that story I was telling last night, and your student body was so excited to hear it.” He glances over at the sleeping apprentices, and Pearl feels a stomach-clenching rush of fear and revulsion at the implicit threat. “Besides. You know you can’t kill me. You know it better than probably anyone else here.”

False laughs.

Dream’s forehead furrows, and Pearl is gratified to see that awful smile slip just a notch. “Care to share the punchline?”

“Oh, that’s true enough,” False admits. “You’re right, it won’t be my arrow that brings you down, though I must admit I’d greatly enjoy the trying. It’s just funny to me, how confident you are, considering where you stand.” She smiles, a tight, icy little smile that makes Pearl shiver in spite of herself, as she glances back at the village.

No, Pearl realizes, not at the village: at the rickety, towering sculpture in the center of it...and the yawning sinkhole beneath.

Dream’s smile falls off of his face so quickly Pearl can almost hear it thump into the sand. George stands beside him, looking confused and utterly miserable, hands twisting together. Pearl hates Dream almost as much for putting that expression back on his face as she does for the motionless bodies at her feet.

“What in the hell are you talking about,” Sapnap snarls, scowling in confusion.

“Shall I call him, Dream?” False continues softly, still smiling. “How about it? We’ve all got time, after all, while we wait for our friends to wake. I’m sure he’d be very interested in your stories. He’s a much more courteous guest than you are.”

“He won’t come,” Dream protests, but he doesn’t sound so confident anymore. “He’s busy, and lazy, and thousands of leagues away besides. He’s got a new playmate, and they’re enjoying themselves too much with their little empire down in the Southern snows to bother with you.” The smile returns to Dream’s face as if it never left, but there’s no mistaking the undercurrent of fear in his voice, the obvious way he’s trying to convince himself of what he’s saying. “And why should he answer to you at all, hiding away with your own little playmates on your nowhere island? You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” the Huntress asks, dark eyes glittering.

A tense silence settles over the beach. No one moves. Even the waves seem to hold their breath, waiting to see which way the scales will dip.

“Why?” Pearl finally asks, her voice breaking. “What did we ever do to you?”

“Like I told you, they’ll be awake soon,” Dream says with a shrug. “Ask them.”

“Leave,” False reiterates, her smile gone, her voice cold. “All three of you. And don’t come back.”

“Very well, as my Queen commands,” Dream answers, sketching a mocking bow. “George, Sapnap, let’s go.” He turns to Pearl with a smile, green fire dancing in his eyes. "Until next time, my dear." And with that, he walks away, moving off towards the docks.

Pearl recoils, skin crawling with loathing and a creeping, nameless dread. “George, wait,” she entreats, sorrow and desperation thick in her voice. “You don’t have to go with them.”

George looks back and forth, from her, to False and Wels and Iskall with their weapons drawn, to his two friends, and then back to Pearl. “They’re my friends,” he murmurs helplessly.

He turns, walking off down the beach after Dream. A sob escapes Pearl’s throat.

Of the three of them, Sapnap lingers the longest, staring up at the three on the rocks with his sword still drawn.

“He’ll betray you, you know,” False says quietly.

“Stop talking about things you haven’t the least idea about,” Sapnap grits.

“He will, though. He’ll betray you the way the scorpion betrays the frog in the old tales, because it’s his nature. And because you have something he doesn’t, a capacity he doesn’t understand and never will, no matter how badly he wants it. I know, because you and I are the same. You’ve already begun to discover that capacity, as bumbling and resistant and stupid as you are. When you finally figure out the rest, he won’t be able to stand it. He’ll turn on you, and he’ll hurt you.”

“Whatever you say,” he mutters dismissively, but he sounds unsure of himself. At last, he sheaths his sword, stalking off after the others. Pearl wonders if either of them will remember this incident two days from now, if they'll be allowed to remember it.

When they’re finally gone, their boat nothing more than a hazy speck on the water, Pearl collapses to the sand. She pulls Grian into her lap and holds him, not letting go even as Impulse comes to with a strangled scream, clutching at his abdomen and hurling the half-finished clock into the waves with a cry; as Bdubs scrambles wild-eyed to the water after it, his legs shaking like those of a newborn colt; as Scar begins to cough and gasp and struggle to fill lungs that don’t seem to remember how to breathe; as the apprentices stir, looking around with dazed and uncomprehending eyes.

It’s only when Grian finally wakes, silent and gasping and threatening to shake himself to pieces in her arms, his pupils shrunk to the size of pinpricks, that Pearl finally, finally allows herself to cry.

#Hermitcraft #Hermitcraft Season 8 #Third Life SMP #Dream SMP #Passerine #Fanfiction #PearlescentMoon #c!Dream #GeorgeNotFound #Sapnap #FalseSymmetry #Iskall #Welsknight #Grian #GoodTimesWithScar #ImpulseSV #BDoubleO100 #Kaleidoscope AU

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generallybarzy · 4 years

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our song

5 times you heard “your song” + 1 time he played it for you

summary: There's a song you hear every now and then- a song that makes you think of love, of the love of your life- and you swear this song always seems to come on at just the right time. Lightly based on this song (here’s an acoustic version). Yes, I turned this into a 5+1 because I couldn’t decide on an ending. @downdonnie because you were super excited to read this and @thirteenisles and @lovebarzy thank you for helping me!!!! ♥️ word count: ~5.7k :)

You couldn’t believe he could do this to you.

Here you were, an hour into what should have been your 2-month anniversary date, sitting at a table in a restaurant all alone in your prettiest dress with an almost empty glass of wine, and the mother fucker hasn’t even shown up yet. You couldn’t believe you went all out with your outfit and makeup and hair, just to be stood up. You probably should have seen it from the beginning. He seemed nice, he was fun to be around, but when did he really put in an effort to be with you? When did he ever choose you over hanging out with his friends?

“Ma’am?” A waitress approached, looking sympathetic, and speaking to you softly. “If you don’t order soon, we’re going to need this table for other patrons.”

You tried to compose yourself, wiping the tears from your eyes and realizing that you were sitting all alone in the middle of a crowded restaurant of couples, nursing a glass of wine, and looking miserable. You could feel their eyes on you- couples eating, couples dancing, even the people at the bar. This was humiliating. “Sorry. I know, I’ll go now.” You were in the middle of standing up and grabbing your purse, trying to cover up your sadness, when another voice sounded from behind the waitress.

“Sorry I’m late, baby.”

Looking up, you met eyes with a handsome brunette in a dark blue jacket. He smiled nervously, revealing a pretty, gleaming white smile, as he sat down in the seat across the table with a pleading look in his eyes, asking you silently to play along. No matter how handsome this man was, there was just one thing wrong.

He was a stranger. This guy wasn’t your boyfriend.

The waitress left, giving you two some time to look over the menu, and you raised an eyebrow at the man now sitting in front of you. “Umm, hi?”

“I hope you don’t mind.” He shrugged, looking hopeful. “I saw you sitting alone. I know how it feels to be stood up, it’s embarrassing. Rather have people think I’m the dick boyfriend who was late than have them looking at you with pity, right? Want some company?”

“I mean...” You were tempted. Your boyfriend- now ex, you suppose- was an hour late, you were really hungry, and this guy did seem good-intentioned. And good looking. “I guess I can’t let the reservation go to waste. I’m (y/n).” He smiled again.

“Mat.” It suited him. “Guess we should order some food then.”

Turns out he wasn’t just good-looking. He was charming, funny, cool, and a hell of a lot better than your ex. He genuinely listened to you when you talked, he smiled and laughed and commented here and there. He didn’t try to flirt with you, but he was effortlessly charming nonetheless. You couldn’t think of a single conversation with your ex that had gone this well. Maybe it was just hopeful thinking, but you wished that this was really the man you were going out with.

“You said earlier you know how it feels to stood up?” He nodded across the table. “No way.”

“Yep.” He popped the ‘p’, taking a final sip of wine. “It sucks.”

““Who would stand you up? You’re so…” Could you tell him he was practically the perfect man? Would that be too weird? You just met, after all. “You’re like this.”

“Yeah?” He smirked. “Like what?”

You swallowed your words and shrugged at him with a smile- he already understood what you meant. “This was a good night, Mat.” You were standing up and struggling to face the inevitable end to your amazing night when you heard a feel-good song come on from the dance floor. It was a favorite of yours, romantic but bouncy and upbeat. “Wait, I love this song!”

“Oh, really? Wanna dance then? The floor’s right there.” Normally you didn’t dance, but there was something about the way he was smiling at you, and the way his hand was in yours, warm and big, his thumb rubbing circles on it, that gave you more confidence than normal.

“Let’s do it.”

So you danced with him, smiley and giggly, and singing along to the lyrics that he was only now learning. His hand was on your waist, both gentle and heavy as you swayed your hips and jumped into the dancing group of people. You hugged him and spun in circles with him, feeling much happier than you’d ever felt in your last relationship, or in any relationship you could think of. “This is a great song!” Mat confessed halfway through. You laced your fingers in his and lifted his arm to spin yourself into his chest, singing the lyrics up at him with soft eyes.

It may have been flirty, but you really, really liked Mat.

“Does this count as our first date?” You asked, cheeks red and heart racing when it was over, walking hand in hand to the door.

Mat hummed, pleased with the outcome of the night, and please with the girl at his side. “The first of many, hopefully.”

II.

Mat was amazing, you learned that the first night you met him, but it was only reinforced after officially starting to date him. Each date with him was only further proof that he might possibly be the best boyfriend in existence. It had only been two weeks now and nothing had happened beyond hugs and hand-holding, but you learned he was a hockey player and jokingly asked for skating lessons, he was over the moon.

And that’s what led you to tonight.

“You excited?” Mat was smiling like a little kid, practically bouncing on his feet.

“To fall on my ass? Yeah, sure.”

He arched his head back and laughed. “I won’t let you fall. Trust me.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.” He helped you out onto the ice, already laughing a bit at how you stumbled in your skates. You gripped the wall and refused to move from it as Mat easily looped around in a few circles in front of you. “I am excited, though. This is something you do all the time. I like seeing you in your zone. You’re great at this.”

“Um, excuse you,” he laughed, sliding to the wall next to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. “I was pretty great at mini-golf the other day, too.”

“Mat, don’t forget I was the winner of that game.”

“Only ‘cause I went easy on you.” You both laughed at that, knowing it wasn’t true. “Alright, fine. But when we play a 1-on-1 hockey game I won’t go easy on you.”

“Woah, woah. Slow down, maybe I should know how to skate first.”

“We can do that.” He pulled you away from the wall and took your hands in his. “Follow me, I’ll help.” He skated backward, keeping his eyes on you as you struggled to find your balance. The first few minutes were almost humiliating, you had a vice grip on his arms the whole time, but he was patient with you. Eventually, you loosened up, starting to understand the right way to move your feet, and Mat smiled. “Look at you! You’re skating!” You laughed at his enthusiasm and sang along with him to the music playing softly overhead, feeling happy and safe in his hands. In the middle of your burst of confidence, he let go of your hands to see how you would fare on your own, and at his movement, you stumbled and lost your footing.

“Mat, don’t just let go of me like that!”

“Sorry, babe.” His arm found it’s place fitted perfectly around your waist, and he pulled you against him with a smile. “You think you can do a little bit on your own?”

You really weren’t sure you could, but the confident look in his pretty hazel eyes when he gazed down at you was making you feel brave. “I can try.”

“Alright.” He let go of you and skated across the width of the ice with ease. It was always amazing seeing how easily and elegantly he skated as if it was second nature by now. “Try to come over here.” You made your way slowly and steadily, cursing Mat for not letting you use the wall for support. Your eyes were focused on your skates, on the way you were moving, and you only looked up when you heard Mat’s voice. “You’re doing great, (y/n)!”

“You think so? I’m kinda slow.”

“You’re still good for the first time. Take your time.”

You were about to respond to him as you crossed the center of the ice, but you felt yourself loose control of your footing and immediately panicked, arms flailing out to the side. “Shit!” Mat was quick to come to your rescue, but he wasn’t quick enough and arrived next to you the moment your hands and knees hit the ice, already reaching down to help you up. “Shit. You okay, baby?” He helped you to your feet, steadying you and holding you against him safely.

“Ouch.” You brushed the ice off of your knees and curled your arms around his waist. “I’m okay. Not so great at skating yet.”

“You sure you’re okay?” You nodded and laughed at his worry. “Next time we come out, I’ll have to put you in some safety gear. Don’t want you to get hurt.” You felt warm and safe in his embrace, gazing up into his eyes when the song changed overhead.

“Oh my god, Mat! Listen, it’s that song!”

His eyebrows raised as he listened, a small smile curling onto his lips as he realized what it was. “Oh, the song we danced to on our first date?”

“You know,” she swayed side to side on the ice with her arms around his sides. “Every time I hear this song, it makes me think of you. It makes me happy.” Mat was silent after your confession, a different smile on his face, a new smile. One that was hesitant and nervous.

And then, for the first time, he was kissing you. Right in the center of the ice, his arms wrapped around the small of your back and tucking you securely against him, he was dipping down with pink cheeks to kiss you- soft and gentle and waiting for your move.

And you kissed him back.

III.

Simple dates turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and the longer your relationship with Mathew lasted, the more you loved him. He easily invited you into his life, although understandably a bit hesitant because of his hockey career. He was quick to invite you to games, and it wasn’t long before he proudly brought you to team events and even to personal hangouts with his friends and their own wives and girlfriends.

It all seemed to be going so fast, but you weren’t scared like the other times your past relationships had moved fast. No, you were excited. And you couldn’t be happier with how everything was playing out. You were planning on flying out to Vancouver with him to meet his family during the offseason, and he was coming home with you to meet your family. Most exciting, though, was that you had given your landlord the 3-month notice that you were going to be moving out, and you were planning on moving into Mat’s apartment.

It all felt unreal.

You were coming up on ten months with him, which you never would have thought would happen considering the circumstances of your first date, when your birthday rolled around. And of course, as he always loved to spoil you, he wanted to give you everything you wanted for your special day.

After a day of fun out in the city with Mat, he surprised you with the final gift of the day. As much as he loved when you came with him to hang with his friends, he knew he needed to step up and meet all yours as well, and he knew you missed being with them all the time. So, he had invited all your personal friends out to an upscale bar in the city, telling you all to dress nice and get all pretty.

“You look beautiful tonight.”

“You say that every night.”

“It’s true every night.” He had an arm tight around your waist as he held the door open for you. You were glad the restaurant wasn’t too uptight and classy, it had dim lighting and music overhead, a bar, and even a dance floor in the back, and you were sure you’d never be able to afford to eat here if it weren’t for Mat. With his hand on the small of your back, he led you to your booth where all your friends cheered as they saw you.

“Girl, you gotta kiss your man for me! This place is amazing!” One of your friends says.

“You’ve got the best boyfriend!”

“I know.”

The night dragged on in a blur of cheers and eating and drinking, at the rate you were going, you weren’t sure you’d even be able to remember tomorrow, but there were enough videos on your friends Instagram stories that would remind you. Late in the night, Mat kissed your forehead. “I’m gonna go order us some more drinks, okay?” But it didn't seem like you really heard.

Mat was happy you were enjoying the night with your friends, but, as much as he hated admitting it, he was a little selfish, and wanted some time alone with you. He knew just what would get your attention. So, on a mission, he made his way through the atmosphere, through the crowd of dancing people, and all the way up to the DJ.

"Do you take requests?" Before he could say no, Mat slid some money from his pocket. “It’s my baby’s birthday, and all her friends are here, they’re all dressed up… I want to play our song. Please?”

The man smiled and shook his head at the hopeless romantic in front of him. “Alright, man, give me a minute.”

By the time he got back to your table, the song had started, the first few chords playing overhead and pulling you out of the trance your friends had you in. He watched with a smile on his face as you glanced up in thought, and his heart swelled when he realized that, just like every time you heard this song, you were thinking of him.

“Can I steal the birthday girl away?” You glanced up to where he stood a few feet away and smiled. You smiled because this song always came on at just the right time; because it always made you feel a certain way; and because this song was your little secret. None of your friends understood why the two of you suddenly stopped and found each other’s eyes.

“Anytime, Maty.” You followed him to the dance floor, lacing your fingers together behind his neck and tugging him down into you for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Your hands intertwined, your bodies swayed to the beat close together under the colorful lights of the dancefloor. He sang along to the lyrics with you- he had heard it so often now that he knew them by heart- and twirled you around and dipped you low, making you laugh and squeal before dipping your hands under his dark bomber jacket and around his waist.

“You know, Mat, if you wanted my attention this bad, you could have just asked.”

“Maybe,” He smiled and kissed your hairline “But this is a lot more romantic.”

IV.

Everyone has bad days, and Mat wasn’t going to try and tell you you weren’t allowed to feel under the weather, but he hated seeing you so upset, and it was your vacation, and he didn’t want you feeling so down over something so small. It was warm, sunny, and summery out, just having hit the best part of summer. On top of that, you looked beautiful, he told you repeatedly this morning, begging you to come out into the ocean-side town with him for a walk to the beach.

Usually, you loved the summer. But you were tired after your long flight, your feet hurt from walking around town for so long, you had gotten lost multiple times already, and now you had to pee. But Mat was too busy trying to get to a certain small restaurant without asking any of the locals for directions, and it didn’t help that the map of town didn’t make any fucking sense. “Mat, I just wanna go home.”

“Really? But it’s so nice out?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Don’t you want to eat first? I promise this restaurant will be worth it.”

“I doubt it.” You felt bad about how whiny you were being. Mat always just radiated sunshine and cheerfulness, and he didn’t deserve all the bitterness you were giving off. You were bringing him down, and you felt bad, but it was all coming without your control.

“Alright, baby. Sorry.” He reached down to hold your hand, but you didn’t wrap your fingers through his like you usually do, so he stopped. It made his heart hurt, how bad your day was going. “Okay.” He took the town map from your hands and nudged you over to a small building. “Alright, go to the bathroom first. Then we’ll head back to the hotel.”

Mat felt bad, bad you were having such a shitty day, and guilty that he didn’t try to help, and might have even made it worse. He knew you weren’t intentionally trying to ruin his day, he couldn’t blame you for it. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to push you to come out in the first place. It was his fault the two of you had gotten lost so much, anyway.

Maybe he was being a shitty boyfriend today.

He was leaning against the wall of a building, waiting for you to come out and stewing over his thoughts when he heard pretty guitar music float through the air.

And then he had an idea.

If there was anything that was going to make your day better, even a little bit, this was gonna be it. He made his way over to the street musician, hoping that this would work out for him. “Excuse me?” he caught their attention, halting the music. “Could you help me make my girl’s day better?” He slipped out a few bills and bent down to add them to his jar. At the man’s quick acceptance, he smiled. “Thanks. So there’s this song…”

He was lucky and thankful that this man was more than willing to help, and even more lucky that he already knew how to play this song on guitar. And when he played the first few chords to prove it, Mat let out a sigh of disbelief. “Wow. Oh my god, thank you so, so much.” He was proud of himself, he couldn’t believe he actually pulled this together for you.

He saw you come back out of the bathroom, looking just as tired and stressed as earlier and signaled to the guitar player. “Hey, baby.”

“Can we go home now?”

“Not quite.” before you even had time to groan some more, he put his hands on your shoulders and focused your attention on the music. “Listen. Recognize it?”

And recognize it you did. The first song you ever danced with him to, the song that played when you first kissed him, the song that continuously reminded you of him. That reminded you of the man that loved you endlessly, even when you complained and whined through what should have been a perfect day. How could you not recognize it? How could you not smile at it? “It’s our song, Mat.”

“Yeah, it is.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist, finally falling against him and showing him some love and affection for the first time all day, and Mat let out a sigh of relief at the contact. He melted into your touch, holding you and swaying side to side to the soft strums of the guitar, ignoring the gazes of the strangers around you adoring “this lovely young couple”.

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch today.”

“No, you weren’t. I’m sorry for dragging you out here when you didn’t want to come.”

“It’s okay.”

He smiled, so happy to finally have you back in his arms at the end of a bad day. “I’ll make it up to you tonight, yeah? Pour out some wine, have a bubble bath, cuddles, the whole nine yards. Anything to make you feel better.” He leaned down to press his lips to your cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, Mat.”

Maybe it was too soon. Maybe he was being too hopeful. Maybe you didn’t feel the same way. Maybe this wasn’t the right time. He couldn’t stop overthinking. Was this enough for you? Or would you want more?

His fingers flipped the little box in his hands open, closed, open, closed.

Yeah. This is what I want. This is what she wants.

He had changed outfits three times now- he couldn’t decide between casual or dressed up, but seeing as when he was planning on doing, he threw on the same suit he’d been wearing when you met. You had gone out with some friends earlier in the day while he was at practice, and now he was waiting, waiting in agony for you to get back. He had turned out the lights and scattered fairy lights all over the living room, and had the music ready to play with the press of a button. Everything was perfect.

He tossed his head back onto the back of the couch, dragging a hand through his hair. He already had everything set up, he couldn’t take it all down now. This was it. He was doing it.

It was so silent that he could hear your footsteps coming down the hall outside your shared apartment, and he snapped the box shut, jumped to his feet, and stood in the middle of the room so he would be the first thing you saw when you opened the door. He caught one final glimpse of himself in the mirror by the door and ran a hand through his hair again, fluffing it up some, trying to shake off his nerves as he heard the doorknob turn.

“Hey, babe.”

“Mat…” You stopped, frozen in the doorway, and glanced around at your transformed apartment. The only light in the apartment was the soft glow of candles that were lining the room. Mat, in the blue suit you loved so much, was standing in the middle of the room, a single rose in his hand, and a pile of pillows behind him. “Holy shit, what is this?”

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like-? Oh my god, Mat, I love this. But why?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been away a lot recently, so I felt like having a date night.”

“So you got all dressed up and did all this just for a date night?” You couldn’t help but smile at the fact that he actually did all this just for you, and you knew he was pleased with what he had pulled together. He always tried to one-up himself when it came to date ideas. “We could’ve just had a movie night. Or gone out.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, a pleased smile on his face. “But this is more romantic.” Finally closing the door behind you, you fell into Mat’s waiting arms. He sighed and tucked his arms around your waist. Suddenly, you became hyperaware of how you were dressed compared to Mat’s suit. You’d been out with friends for a casual outing, so you only had on leggings and an oversized t-shirt you stole from Mat.

“Ugh, I gotta change into something nicer.”

“Nah, you look beautiful.”

“You say that no matter what I wear.”

“It’s true no matter what you wear.” He released you from his arms and looked down at you, at his beautiful girlfriend that loved him so, so much. “Remember that one date we had? When we built a pillow fort and hid under it and watched Netflix on my laptop?” Oh, did you remember? Of course, you did- that was the first date where Mat had said: “I love you.”

“How could I forget?”

“Well…” He extended his arm behind him, motioning to the pile of pillows and blankets. “I was thinking we could, well, have dinner and then recreate that.”

“Only if you change back into sweats after dinner.”

He laughed. After all the overthinking he did on what to wear, of course, you wanted him comfy. “We can arrange that.”

You cooked dinner together after your suggestion at takeout was knocked down by Mat. He wanted to cook for you, he insisted, and it all actually came together nicely. You ate together at the little table where Mat had lit some candles and poured out glasses of wine. Then, the fun began. Mat changed into sweatpants and a hoodie- which, honestly, you loved more than the suit- and the two of you got to work on your pillow fortress. “Wow, almost as good as the first one.” You laid together, giggly and worn out, cuddled up under the blankets with Netflix opening up on his laptop.

“Not better?” Mat smiled from beside you, dragging a thumb across your cheek.

“I don’t think anything could be better than that time.”

“You sure?” Fuck, fuck, if he did this tonight, there was no turning back- by tomorrow he’d either be closer to you than ever before or all alone. “I can think of something that would make it a lot better.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

He pulled out his phone after a shaky breath and hit one button. Music flooded your ears, playing from speakers that he had set up around the apartment. Of course, those first few chords gave it away- it was your song. Before you could say anything of even lean over to kiss him, Mat was scooting away from you and rolling onto his knees. He struggled a bit to find a good position, the blankets overhead stopping him from sitting up straight. “This isn’t exactly how I thought this would go, but I think it’s pretty good. I overthought a lot about this, but I don’t want to wait any longer.”

“What are you talking about?”

He ran his fingers over the velvet of the box in his pocket, trying to ground his thoughts.

“I love you, (y/n), and I-” He fumbled, his fingers slipped, and before he could even pull out the velvet box, it was tumbling out of his pocket and onto the floor. He scrambled to cover it, but your gasp let him know you saw.

“Oh my god, Mat!”

“Shit, no, pretend you didn’t see that.” He would never forget the grin on your face, the happy tears in your eyes, the ways your cheeks got all pink. He stumbled and laughed a bit through his next words. There wasn’t any reason to hesitate now. “I wasn’t expecting to feel this way about anybody, ever, but then you came along... I guess you already know what’s coming so, will you marry me?” He flicked open the little box with a laugh, all previous worries lost as he waited for your move.

And, of course, you said yes.

+ The time he played it for you

The engagement was a dream, so you couldn’t imagine how great marriage would be.

Whenever you see engagements and wedding planning in movies or TV shows, the couples seem so stressed and frustrated and nervous leading up to the wedding. But, being engaged to Mat wasn’t stressful, it wasn’t making you nervous leading up to the wedding. In fact, you were more happy and sure of your decision to marry him. You would never be able to understand how people could get cold feet on their wedding day because you felt nothing but excitement.

Sure, planning was stressful sometimes, but Mat made sure neither of you had to worry about the cost, he wanted everything to be taken care of for you. He made sure to pull you away from the work and remind you that it didn’t matter what the wedding was like, because either way, he was marrying you.

He was right. In the end, it didn’t matter how big or fancy the wedding was. All you wanted was to be called Mrs. Barzal.

The wedding date couldn’t come fast enough, and when you finally found yourself walking down the aisle towards him you could barely contain your excitement. He looked so handsome, in a fancy, new suit and his hair all fluffy just like you loved. You nearly ran down the aisle, wanting nothing more than to be standing in front of him, calling him your husband.

“Hi.” Mat giggled the moment you were in front of him.

”Hi.”

“You’re so pretty today.”

“So are you Maty.”

Both you and Mat, people commented later, were bouncing on your feet and giggling all the way up until it was time to say your vows. You spoke in quiet, hushed voices, so only you and Mat could hear the words being exchanged, your vows were yours, they were personal, not for anyone else to hear. The people in the audience must have been wondering what you said to him that had him tearing up and laughing.

But that was between you and Mat.

He laughed through the “I do.” no hesitance in his voice at all, as if it was the most obvious decision of all time. He was shaky in excitement when you took each other’s hands to slip on the rings, almost dropping them. “Shit.” He mumbled and squeezed your hands with a smile, and he only heard the words “you may-” before he was swooping down to pull you into a kiss.

Mat Barzal was your husband.

He kissed you and kissed you, dipping you low until the cheers had mostly turned into “Ohhh!”s and his friends whooped and cheered “Ooh, Barzy!!” He broke the kiss with a smile.

“We did it.”

“Yeah, we did.”

You headed inside, hand in hand with your husband, and with all your friends and family following you. The night flew past in a blur of congratulations from friends and family and pictures taken and drinks and food and toasts made. Honestly, you didn’t know what happened the rest of the night, because all you could focus on was the fact that you had married him. It felt like a dream come true, and after the whole night was done and everyone was leaving, you and Mat, with your shoes and his jacket thrown aside in the midst of the party, found your way outside with each other.

“Hey, hubby.”

“Hey, wifey.”

You sat in comfortable silence with each other, just holding and kissing and being alone together for the first time and coming down from the high of the night. You were married.

“I can’t believe this, Mat.”

“I know…” He rubbed his thumb over the ring on your finger giggling as you did the same to his. Then he stopped and stood up as if he just remembered something. “Hold on, wait right here, please. Just a second. I have something for you.” He rushed off, only to return a minute later with a guitar in his hand.

“Ooh. Mat. What are you doing?” You knew how he had been learning guitar for a few months, working at it every day. “Are you gonna play something?”

“Yeah, if I’m any good.”

“You’re probably amazing.”

“Okay, I meant to do this when I proposed, but I wasn’t any good at it, so it wouldn’t have been very cute or romantic.” He sat down beside you, taking a shaky breath and plucking the strings of the guitar. “Alrighty, here it is I guess.”

Immediately, you recognized the familiar chords of that song that was always there whenever you needed it, the song that always came on at just the right time, that had been there since your very first moments with Mat. He was shaky, nervous, and smiling shyly at you. One of your favorite things about Mat was how amazing he could be at so many things, and he still had enough humility to hope that he was good enough for you.

“It’s our song.”

“Always.”

“You know, we always hear this at just the right time. On our first date, the first time we kissed whenever I felt sad or needed you, when you proposed… It always makes me feel happy and calm… It makes me think of you.”

“It makes me think of you.” His fingers slipped a bit and hit a sour note. “Shit, oops.”

“You’re amazing, baby.”

“I’m trying.” He paused where the lyrics should come in, glancing up at you. “I guess I should sing it too. Will you sing with me, Mrs. Barzal?” Mrs. Barzal. You laughed because it was so strange to be called that, because it made you feel giddy, the idea of spending the rest of your life with You laughed because it was something you did with Mat so often, but this was the first time you were singing together as husband and wife.

“Any time, Mat.”

So, in the aftermath of a long, exciting day, newly married to the love of your life, the man of your dreams, you cuddled up with your husband under the stars and sang along to your song.

You knew you loved him for years, but now you had a ring to prove it, you shared his name, you were here to share the rest of your life with him. You were Mrs. Barzal.

And if this wasn’t the best way to start the rest of your life with him, you didn’t know what was.

♥️

“Play that song The one that makes me go all night long The one that makes me think of you That's all you gotta do.”

#theres a vid of mat singing a song by train #so i got inspired when i heard this #mat barzal #mathew barzal #imgaine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #op #4+1 #5+1 #fanfiction #imagine #fic

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josiecarioca · 4 years

Text

Waiting (one-shot)

Requested by @artisticreptilequeen and @latitsoso

Summary: Soren Snape has chosen a lonely path for himself that not even his closest friend can help him walk.

(Soren Snape x Audrey Blake, characters mentioned: Severus Snape,Evelyn Black and Eloise Snape)

Also available on Ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/30010311

Tagging: @snapescapades @mafagafobebum @marvelschriss @codename-thedoctor @zealouspickleeggdragon @green-oasis @drawnfromthedead @snapescapadesafterdark @serosvit @snapecentric @hayalee8 @oliverlandomens @sleepysnapesnake @lily-themadqueen-andpinky @paracosim @the-witches-son @aikersen @violet-knox @viper-official @be-zoar @thepomegranatejuice @alwyssnpe @siriuslysircadogan @hbprincealice

…

“Soren, are you alive?”

Soren opened his eyes and looked around, searching for that familiar voice. He didn't know the place around him. It looked nice enough, though. A small livingroom, with teal colored walls covered in classic movie posters and a moon themed tapestry hanging next to a tall bookcase, loads of colorful cushions and, in front of him, a square coffe table with food and cooking themed hardcovers and a notebook filled with a round and small handwritting he knew all too well. He found himself laying on a soft white couch, “Golden Girls” was playning on the TV in front of him.

He sat up, feeling as if the room was moving around him like a ship in open sea. His clothes were sticking to him, tight and uncomfortable and his mouth was so dry he felt a bitter taste in his tongue. He didn´t remember drinking any water since right after curtain call.

Soren heard the sound of something frying, before the smell hit him. His stomach growled. He couldn't remember when he had last eaten anything that day.

“You´re getting glitter all over my couch.” that voice...Soren shook his head, suddenly angry at himself. How had he ended up here of all places? Idiot!

“Audrey, I...” he called out but his head felt like it just about split in two when he raised his voice. “I mean...how did I...”

“Here...” the voice approached. He looked up and there she was. Audrey, in a dusty pink turtleneck wool dress that hugged her plump figure, black leggings and boots, her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, with thick bangs framing her roud, dollish face. She looked like she was either going to a date or coming back home from one when he, at least he assumed, crashed-landed at her door.

She held a plate in front of his face and it smelled something like heaven is supposed to smell.

“This is what you eat when you're flat on your arse drunk, if I recall correctly. Rashers, eggs benedict and your mother's cheddar, chive and potato pancakes. Right?”

“You...know how to make mam´s pancakes? ” he smiled, hoping foolishly that small talk would delay the earfull he was about to get. “She never gave anybody this recipe. Not even my cousins.”

“I lived with your parents for a whole year remember? I've seen auntie Lyn make this more times than I can count.”

Even though he felt like somebody had taken an axe to his skull and split it clean in two, Soren had to smile.

“Thank you. You didn't have to.”

“I sort of did have to, though” she let out, sounding tired “I found you laying on my doorstep, looking healf dead. Trust me, I was tempted to just walk around you and leave you there, but then what would I say next time I visit your parents? Besides, my landlord and neighbours wouldn't be too happy. Here, you´re going to need this. You must be dehydrated.”

She put a gallon of water on the table in fronto of him. Soren shugged nearly half of it before he could even begin to think about eating.

“Now, pray tell...what has gotten into you?” she crossed her arms and stood before him, looking far taller than her 5 feet, maybe 5'3 including the boots. Soren looked at her, pleased to notice she had put on weight. She looked like her normal self again, he thought. Last time he'd seen her she looked gaunt, almost.

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? Is it a normal occurence for you to prance about town drunk off you mind and pass out in front of people´s doors dressed like Beetlejuice and Dr. Frank'n'Furter's lovechild?”

“Oh, this!” Soren looked down at himself, finally remembering...

The effin' costume. Yeah, she was right. Her neighbours wouldn't be none too pleased to see a 6´2 man in full make-up wearing a leather corset-garter combo with stockings and high heels under a stripped trenchcoat passed out drunk in the hallway.

“I was...working.”

“Working? Is this an honest-to-God opera costume, or the Ministry for Magic had you go undercover in a fetish brothel?”

“Costume. The Ministry doesn´t usually have me dress up nice and sexy when they want to get me fucked. Hardly pay me as well as they should for it either.”

“What opera are you in this time around?”

“Orphée aux enfers...Our director decided to give the Kosky version a run for its money, so of course genderfuck drag was the way to go. Because why the fuck not? ”

“We're just going to pretend like you didn't love the idea...” she smirked. That was good...he hoped.

“Well, yeah, we decided to have a few drinks after the performance, and Henri thought it would be hilarious to just go out partying in full costume.”

“Who?”

“Henri Fournier...he played Orpheus”

“Of course...” Audrey, sighed, no longer amused.

“He's a riot, you should meet him.” Stop digging, Soren. She´s already mad at you, no need to act like a bufoon.

“And you should shower and change.”

“I´m afraid I don't have anything to change into...Unless, what's his name, your...”

“Ethan, his name is Ethan.”

“Yeah, him, unless he doesn´t mind me borrowing his things...”

“I´ll see if he left something here...”

“Left...I thought you two were...”

“He moved out.”

“When was that? Last we talked you we...”

“Come on, finish eating go have a shower, I'll find something for you to wear.”

“Hey, Shortcake, I...” He let out without even thinking. It had been so long since he last called her that, years maybe, but somehow it just poured from his lips.

“Don't...call me that.”

“I'm sorry...I really am. About this whole thing as well, I really don't know how I ended up at your door, I would never...”

“You don't have to apologize. Just eat, take your shower and...” she sighed “...we´ll see.”

…

Soren was tripping over himself so badly Audrey had half a mind to offer help. But eventually he got himself to the bathroom. She glued her ear to the door, half expecting to hear him collapse inside. The sound of the water running reassured her enough to step away and try to find something for him to wear, hoping Ethan had forgotten at least a pair of shorts or something.

Typical Soren to put her in this situation without even thinking. He never did think, did he? Just did whatever he wanted to do and everything else be damned. Nevermind that his parents were constantly worried sick about him, that his sister had to keep calling him to remind him he had a family and he should go see them sometime. Audrey was almost sure neither his father nor his mother knew what he was up to.

That he was spying for the. ministry.

His father would never allow it.

Audrey had been only a spectator, entirely foreign to their world of magic and wars no one of her kind was supposed to know, but she knew well enough, apparently even better than Soren, that it was a disastrous idea for the son of Severus Snape to be a spy. To collect inteligence about the very same criminals who still had a reward out for his father's head. Soren was born with a target on his back. Even as a child, Death Eaters had tried to get to him, the same with his sister, Eloise. And why wouldn't they? What better revenge on the man who brought down their leader than to harm his children? Audrey knew from hearing whispers and bits and pieces of conversations when she had lived with his parents in Glencoe, right after deciding to go no contact with her mother. She knew from what Eloise told her, in a vain, desperate attempt to get her to help knock some sense into her brother.

But Audrey also knew there was nobody on earth who could keep Soren from doing what he wanted. Sometimes she was tempted to tell Severus and Evelyn what he was doing behind their back. If they knew...They thought Soren was travelling around the world singing. A successful baritone, touring Salzburg, Paris, New York, Lord knew where else. Surely that shouldn´t prevent him from coming home now and then, however...But he would go months without showing up, so his parents, maybe, just thought that if he didn´t show up for Christmas or Easter it was because he was somewhere in a nightclub or a bar, partying. And sometimes that was true, but not always. At times, she wondered how and when they would find out, and hoped it wasn´t through some tragedy.

But...sometimes she also wondered if they didn't already know. If they were just waiting for him to finally be honest with them. Maybe neither Severus nor Evelyn could bring themselves to believe Soren would do that to them, so they acted like they didn't suspect, when in reality, they knew. Maybe they were just hoping he'd show himself worthy of their trust. Just waiting for him to come around.

So Audrey said nothing. It wasn't her place to, after all. If Eloise hadn´t, then she certainly had no right.

She finally found something. And old t-shirt and some pajama pants. Good thing Ethan was tall, she thought. This would do for Soren to at least make it back home, or wherever he was staying in London. Come to think of it...She shook her head and left the clothes on the bed where he could find once he was done showering.

“Soren?” She called once the water stopped running and she could hear him in her bedroom.

“Yeah?” he sounded a bit more sober.

“I'll call your sister, do you have her girlfriend's number? Maybe they can pick you up.”

Soren didn't answer answer immediately. Instead he took his time to get dressed and came back to the livingroom, sat on the couch and took another swig of water from the bottle.

“So, should I call her?”

“I would literally rather you hand me over to a dementor.”

“Maybe if I knew how. Eloise is my next best choice.”

“Eloise will never let me hear the end of it.”

“She wouldn'r be wrong, now would she?”

He didn't answer. He just made that face. That face he put on when he knew he was wrong, when he knew he had no good excuse. The corners of his mouth turned slightly upwards in an odd, clumsy smile, and his nostril flared slightly as he breathed out, then he looked away. Thinking of the next joke, of the charming comment that would deflect questioning, the next change of subject. Had been that way since he was a boy. Soren always knew when to leave an argument well enough alone. This way he wouldn't have to admit he was wrong.

“As soon as my head doesn´t feel like the the 1812 overture is playing on surround sound inside my skull, I can see myself out.” she shrugged with that devil may care grin that could get him whatever he wanted.

Audrey sighed. She didn´t have the energy to argue, And true to be told, if she hadn't found him passed out drunk at her door after nearly a year of no contact whatsoever, she would be happy he was there. Wasn´t this what they used to do, back when things were different? Staying up at night, huddled up on the couch, watching old TV programmes reruns till the wee hours of the night? She missed that. She missed having Soren around, she missed his stupid jokes, his impromptu performances. She missed him singing “Largo al factotum” early in the morning as he shaved, his voice filling her bathroom till the upstairs neighbours complained.

But she didn´t miss what came with it. She didn´t miss the disappearances, the weeks and months without a single phone call, the excuses, the worry, the panic...

“You already ruined my couch with all that sodding makeup” she sighed, sitting next to him “Might as well spend the night. But you´ll have to be out before noon. I´m working the lunch shift this week.”

“How's that going? Mam told me you made it to sous-chef.”

“Yeah, which sounds impressive until you realize it just means I'm the first in line to be verbally abused when Bastianinni wakes up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“I worked with a Bastianinni once...It was for the best sharp knives are not part of our line of work, or the whole cast would have used him for target practice, down to the children's choir. When a tenor decides to be a diva, oof...”

“So, you´ve been talking to your mother?”

“Yeah, I called her and dad last week from Salzburg...to apologize for not showing up for Christmas again. She told me you were there.”

“I was. I assume that's how you got my address...”

“I...I mean...is not like she” Soren stammered like a little boy caught with his hand in the biscuit tin.

“Did you really think your mother would give you my address if I didn't tell her it was ok?” Audrey smiled “I´m just surprised you asked.”

“Why wouldn't I ask?”

“You tell me...For the past four years I´ve seen more of your parents and your sister than I´ve seen you. And you don't call anybody, just go off for months on end...”

“You know why that is...”

“I do. That´s why I don't wait for you anymore. It's pointless. But then when I give up waiting, you decide to show up.”

“Is not like I planned to just...”

“You never do.”

“Audrey, I...”

“I´ll get you a pillow and some covers, it's getting late.” She couldn't let him speak. If he started he'd take her in again. And before she knew it, she would be waiting again...for a phone call, a message, waiting for that moment she'd finally be fully a part of his world. A moment that would never come, no matter how long she waited. Not for her and not for anybody else. Soren had chosen a rocky path that only fit the steps of one person: himself. She couldn´t walk with him, and it would be fooolish to wait for him to come back any time soon.

“You said you were working lunch shift tomorrow.” the sweetness on his voice reached her as she got up from the couch, disarming. “Can´t you stay a little while longer?”

#Snapedom #Soren Snape #The Soren Snape chronicles #Soren Prince Snape #Audrey Blake #Soren x Audrey #angst #severus snape #evelyn black #Eloise Snape #The Snape siblings

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years

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Night of the Living Dead (And Then Some)

Summary: It’s 1897 and the world as we know it has become overrun by zombies. An unlikely pair, a former nun by the name of Agatha Van Helsing, and a bloodthirsty vampire, Count Dracula, have formed an alliance in the hopes of surviving this debacle. Can the two learn to coexist or will they end up as just another mindless cog in life’s maniacal wheel?

Ship: Dragatha

Rating: M

Chapters: 1/2

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: An odd two part one shot that came to my mind. I wanted to do something Halloween-ish. I guess in a way this is a parody because it is Dracula and there are also zombies?! Anyway, hope you like hope it turned out! -Jen

Part One

Surprisingly, he hadn’t taken notice of the damn thing until her arrow nearly took him out. Dracula watched as the undead beast faltered briefly before falling still on the ground. Right in the center of the forehead. She was getting good. Perhaps too good. Nostrils flaring slightly, he rounded about to face her.

“That could’ve easily hit me.” He attempted to argue as Agatha strode forward to pluck her prized arrow from the corpse. “What if I had moved just a bit? That weapon of yours could’ve struck my heart.”

“And then I would have one less problem on my hands.” She replied simply, not so much as giving him the benefit of a look. “I knew what I was doing. If it hadn’t been for me, it would’ve gotten you and Lord knows what would happen if you were to get bit. There aren’t exactly many vampires about that we’ve seen cases of.”

“Must you bring God into this?” Dracula sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What do you want me to say, Agatha? Thank you?”

“That would be rather nice.” She sighed, cleaning off the grimy arrow. “But I have a feeling that I’m not going to get such a response from you. You are, as one might claim, a bit pig-head.”

“Pig headed?!” The vampire let out a humorless laugh. “Pig headed?! Why how your insults have grown since our first encounter, Agatha. If anyone is pig headed, it’s you for insisting we go to Brasov--which, I’ll inform you, was very overrun!”

“Everywhere is overrun, Dracula.” The former nun sighed, finally turning to look at the man. “Romania, Holland...it’s like a cesspit of flesh eating monsters that, well…” She paused for a moment. “Make you seem like a mere mosquito.”

The vampire’s eyes narrowed as the woman tossed her bow over her shoulder. Sometimes a small part of him felt the urge to end her right there. It would be so easy. But the bigger part refrained from that. Perhaps if he could read her mind at this very moment, she too felt the same way. Bickering was always better than dead. It was a good reminder to them both.

“Come on.” Agatha’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “It’ll be daylight soon and the last thing I need is for you to burn into a crisp.”

“If I’m not mistaken, I could’ve sworn you said you’d have one less problem without me.” Dracula countered with a smirk.

“The idea is becoming more tempting.” The woman replied with a huff. “Now come on, there is no telling what awaits us.” She gave a nod with her head. “This way then.”

The memory was still very vivid in his mind as he was sure it was in Agatha’s. The night he slaughtered every nun in St. Mary’s Convent but her. How the woman gave up her freedom, her life without a second thought in order to save meek, little Mina Murray. He’d had plans for Agatha. Devilish desires involving her blood. And in a way, perhaps she thought that somehow she could take advantage of him. Oh how the fates change when Death knocks at your door. A new side of unrest that he hadn’t seen in his several centuries of life.

“I don’t know about you, but I am quite parched.” Dracula said, breaking the long silence. “I haven’t had a human since...well...does tasting you count?” “You’ve survived years without drinking, I’m sure you can continue on just fine.” Agatha said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been drinking river water and consuming squirrels and you don’t see me complaining. You don’t have to worry about dysentery.”

“I suppose having you become ill and me carrying for you would put a damper on our little excursion.” He smiled when he saw the glare on Agatha’s face. “What do you suppose would happen if I were bit? If I were to become “undead” undead? Would it reverse the process? Would I be human again? Or would I be a raging animal the likes of which this world has never seen?”

“I’d prefer not to think about either of us getting bit.” The former nun expressed. “We’ve seen what happens. How they turn. It isn’t pleasant.” There was a brief pause before she added. “...If I were to be bitten, I would highly appreciate if you would kill--”

Dracula stopped in his tracks and turned to face his partner. “Your death--at least in the way you are proposing it, isn’t at the top of my list.” No, losing her in that matter was not certain. “You will remain alive, Agatha...at least until I deem it otherwise.”

“Your version of being undead is only slightly less repulsive.” Agatha exclaimed, shaking her head. “Now hurry along, we’re losing nighttime.”

“Always so eager and demanding.” The vampire tutted with a smirk. “I have yet to decide exactly how I feel about that with you.”

The former nun merely rolled her eyes once more, a small smile gracing her features. “My complexity is one of my more charming qualities.” Her gaze flashed up to the full moon. “Perhaps there will come a day where you decide. Or not.” Agatha’s attention turned to the vampire, a look of amusement crossing her face. “And maybe, if you are lucky, I’ll look forward to your answer.”

“Perhaps.” The Count agreed. “Until then, it seems we are left to put up with each other.”

A low growl came from within the bushes nearby. Agatha and Dracula turned to see a creature stumbling out from the brush. His skin, just like his clothing, dangled in rags as he hobbled over to the two. Without so much as a second thought, the vampire produced his treasure saber and brought it swiftly through the zombie’s head. Even after centuries of going untouched. Years of battle it’d been in. The Count’s weapon of choice was rather practical--even if it wasn’t as secretly impressive as Agatha’s bow.

“A clean hit.” The former nun noted. “You’re improving.”

Dracula let out a laugh. “As if you know anything about true combat.”

“I was raised by Abraham Van Helsing.” She countered, folding her arms. “And I know you well enough to know that my grandfather was quite skilled.”

“He was no warlord.” Dracula commented, cocking one of his brows. “Now, while I’d love to have a friendly duel with you, I’d rather not run into any more of our acquaintance’s friends. As you were saying, we are losing time. Best keep moving.”

And Agatha was not one to argue with that.

XXX

Cold. Dark. Musky. The dilapidated hunting shed they’d come across at least didn’t stream a single beam of light in. Agatha didn’t know why she agreed to this. Her clothes being used as a means to cover the floor. Protect her from splinters. As Dracula’s pale, naked body moved against her’s, the only warmth she felt was from his cape underneath her bottom. Fucking the vampire was hot in the word sense, but icy from his touch.

“Just a nibble…” He purred into her ear, teeth lightly grazing her earlobe. “It won’t hurt.”

“I said...no to biting…” Agatha panted, her back arching as the pad to one of his thumbs ran across her hard nipple. “Rules.” “Rules are for sheep and conformists.” Dracula growled, his hand sliding down to just barely rest on her groin. He smiled as she stiffened knowing she was throbbing deep inside. Aching for him. “Last time I checked you were far from that, Agatha.”

“If you can’t control yourself, then I am more than happy to stop.” She offered, earning her a dark glare. She knew he was already hard. Cock pressed against her inner thigh. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this debate during sex and it wouldn’t be the last. “I’m not your bottle of wine, Count Dracula. No biting or no sex.”

“You are a temptress.” He grumbled, his mouth set in a look of displeasure. “A tease.”

“I am merely the apple on the tree in The Garden of Eden and you are both Eve and the snake. You are your worst enemy.” She chuckled at her own analogy knowing well enough that her comparison to religion was not looked kindly upon by the vampire. “Isn’t my touch enough?”

She let her fingers travel down to where his cock rested against her. Dracula had been the first and only man she’d ever been with. Every sexual experience had been with him. And despite what she at first thought it’d be like, she loved it. Craved it. Especially when she whittled him down to his last nerve. Agatha gingerly touched his head, feeling the droplets weep from their prison. Over four centuries old and with just a few decades herself, she could still make him squirm.

“With you, nothing is ever enough.” He said through a breathy whisper. “Never. Never. Ever.” And without a warning, he pushed a finger deep inside Agatha causing her to yelp with surprise. So wet. Two could play at that game. “There is a vein that runs down the length of your inner thigh that is particularly delightful.” Dracula explained, kissing the former nun hard. “It would be nice for the both of us.”

“You’re a pig.” Agatha gasped as the vampire touched her sensitive spot. There were stars and her vision blurred. Dracula seemed to realize this too and probed the area thoughtfully. She struggled to speak. “Stop it!” Don’t stop. Keep going. Faster. “I...I could...scream…”

“Worried about the undead in a time like this?” Dracula snorted. “My dearest Agatha, I believe you could shout as loudly as you desired and no one would hear. And I quite like that idea.” He could feel her hand grip tighter around his cock as if in response. It took everything in him to hold it together. “If you won’t give me your blood, at least let me hear you cry out my name. You owe me that much.”

Agatha gazed up at him with fury, but lustful blue eyes. He was winning this one. She hated when that happened. Though they were still shrouded in darkness, the former nun could still make out the glint of his smile as her hand released him and he positioned himself at her entrance. She bit down hard on her lower lip. Not because she anticipated the pain. No. She anticipated the pleasure and what was to come.

Dracula was rather unpredictable when it came to his part in sex. He could be soft, almost caring and considerate. Loving. Or he could fuck so hard that Agatha’s head was left spinning and she had bruises the next day. And if she were to be quite frank, she didn’t have a favorite. The vampire was always so good. So damn fantastic that with every thrust Agatha felt herself shaking deep from within her very core. Part of her wondered if there was a possibility she could become pregnant. It hadn’t happened yet, and they’d had quite a lot of sex. Still, it was always on the forefront of her mind when his seed spilled inside her.

“Say my name.”

The commanding voice pulled her from her thoughts and Agatha was dragged from the whimsical land of euphoria and to the wooden, shed floor. Dracula leaned over her, his lips curved into a smile. The former nun reached out and wound an arm around his neck to steady herself. She knew that he had her. He always did. But it helped.

“Say mine first.”

The words escaped out as a moan which did not help Agatha’s case. She was growing close to her climax, and Dracula could tell. His thrusts began to quicken, deepen as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. Then without thinking, she bit down on the vampire’s skin. That immediately stopped the man in his tracks.

“Did you just...bite me?” He asked breathlessly, grinning widely. “Oh, Agatha…”

There were no marks. Of course there wouldn’t be. But she was so caught up in the moment. Suddenly, it dawned on her as they lay there still in the throes of passion. A silly little thought that made her smile too.

“You.” She gasped out. “You said my name.”

“What?” Dracula interjected. “But I...that doesn’t count…”

“Still said it…” Agatha smirked, chest rising and following. “I win.”

“Oh, we will see about that.” The vampire chuckled darkly. “I’m just getting started.”

XXX

Though he’d said her name, Agatha had finished first. Twice even before Dracula met his limit. They fell back on their makeshift bed of clothing that they’d be putting on later. Her head resting on his chest, the woman watched the door quietly. Though she felt sleepy as the adrenaline rush began to fade, a part of her wanted to stay awake. But she knew how important it was to remain diligent. Especially at night.

“Romania has fallen to whatever caused this plague.” Dracula said softly. “And we don’t know where else it has stretched. Perhaps there's a chance it’s only here.”

“And Holland.” Agatha reminded solemnly. “We’ve been roaming around aimlessly. Seen less and less humans.” She was silent for a moment before she craned her head up to meet his stare. “I do realize how it affects you.”

His fingers ran down the base of her skull and followed the path of her spine. She closed her eyes as he stroked her back. It was soothing, though the conversation at hand was not. If humans were going to become like an endangered species, then what of Dracula? After everything she was taught. Everything she’d seen. Agatha knew deep down her feelings for the vampire weren’t right. But even deeper down she didn’t care. Not in the least bit.

“I have a proposition.” Dracula said after a moment’s thought. “And I have thought about this quite a bit. Much longer than this disease has been going on and much, much longer than my meeting you.”

Agatha sat up from where she lay. “What might that be?”

“England.” Dracula said simply, sitting up as well. “Where we’d go in England, it’d be more advanced than the villages we’ve gone to. Perhaps the virus isn’t there or even better, they have a cure. It is better than nothing.”

“England.” Agatha repeated as if she heard him right. “But we don’t even have a ship. That’s at least a few weeks' sail from the coast to the bay. How do you expect us to get there?” The expression on his face said it all. “...Is there no other way?” Not telling him no. Not forbidding him. It was as if in desperation she was accepting of the terms. “Is it the only way to be done?”

“Blood is lives, Agatha.” Dracula said, expression still. “Information. If we want to get across then I’m going to need the blood of someone who understands sailing among other things. Someone healthy--or at least not riddled with disease.” He touched her hand, surprised she didn’t pull away. “I’ll take only what I need.” The Count promised.

“And what if there are no survivors at the port?” The former nun whispered. “What if they’ve all turned?”

“Then we keep going.” The vampire sighed, leaning back. “You should get some rest. It’ll be a long journey to the port if memory serves correct. I’ll take watch.”

“You took the first watch last time.” Agatha countered, sitting up straighter. “And if you know where we are going, then you should be the one with the clear mind.” Dracula opened his mouth to interject, but she continued. “I’ll be fine. Trust me. I’ll wake you up in a few hours. Besides, I am considerably more accurate with killing the creatures than you are with that ridiculous saber. You needn’t be so close with a bow.”

“Ah, you say that now but wait until those flimsy things split in two and your string breaks. Then you’ll be wishing you were brandishing reliable steel.” Dracula chortled. “Honestly, of all the weapons to choose from…”

“Go to sleep you warmonger.” Agatha snorted, resting a hand on his head as he lowered himself down. “There will be other times to debate weapons. Get some rest.”

“Wake me if anything happens.” The vampire said with sudden alertness. “I am not playing, Agatha. At any immediate threat of danger, you must wake me up. Even if the sun has yet to set.”

“You have my word.” The woman promised as the Count’s body relaxed. “Sleep.”

XXX

Agatha didn’t wake Dracula up after a few hours. Instead, when she was sure the sun was setting just enough as to not be so bright, she covered the vampire’s body as not to expose it and slipped outside. She inhaled deeply, enjoying what little light was left. She missed the day--though she kept that knowledge from Dracula. It was harder at night. Finding food. Water. But the few times she could escape. Sneak out without him worrying--those were good times.

Thunk!

The partridge didn’t even see the arrow before it pierced straight through its body. It was an instant kill, one Agatha wished for every living thing she killed--maybe, if she thought hard about it, she’d feel the same about the undead. Picking up the decent sized fowl, she couldn’t help but admire it. After a good plucking and cooking, this would last her a few days. Especially if she could come across some salt and preserve it. Now that would be true luck.

As Agatha walked over to what had perhaps once been a sort of fire pit, she took a seat down in the ground. Yank off handfuls of feathers, her mind kept wandering back to Dracula. His own need for food. Something he hadn’t been as fortunate to get. And maybe he deserved it. After all of the evil he caused, maybe this was fate’s punishment. But Agatha’s judgement, though questionable, began to consider something that maybe was pushing the bounds of her sanity even more.

Abandoning the bird for the time being, she made her way back into their temporary housing. Dracula was still fast asleep--he was odd like that, how deeply or not his slumbering was. Retrieving one of the jars she used for water, she returned outside. There truly was no means to prepare her hand for what she planned. Nothing to clean it with--she was out of water. But taking her arrow, the blood from the bird now smeared down her pant’s leg, she sliced her palm wide open and held it over the jar.

It burned. Ached. Maybe she’d gone too far. Too deep. And as her blood flowed, she half expected Dracula to be roused from his sleep and attack her simply because he was in such dire need of the crimson fluid. But instead, everything was still silent. She bit her lip, her eyes pricked with tears as the bleeding thankfully began to stop on its own. A good sign that maybe she had injured herself too horribly. Careful not to spill a drop, she tore off a piece of her sleeve and bound her cut hand.

If there was to be a good deed done, this would certainly qualify for Agatha. That was, at least for today.

XXX

“Well out of all outcomes, I certainly didn’t expect this!”

Agatha’s nostrils flared as Dracula, though his eyes burned that frightening shade of black with hunger, did not take the jar immediately from her. Instead, he stared at her hand looking equally as upset. When he reached out to take it, she yanked it back almost tempted to spill the blood all over the floor.

“Well out of all the outcomes, Agatha, I can’t say I expected you to slice your hand open for me!” He tried to grab for it again, this time managing to catch her wrist. “Let me see it. Did you even try to clean it?”

“Why can’t you just drink the blood?” Agatha sighed as he studied the wound. “I was trying to be nice. You talk about being oh so thirsty all of the time and craving me during sex. Well, this is what you want, yes? A true taste of me?”

“Not when it involves you injuring yourself!” The Count let out a dramatic huff. “You’re lucky this isn’t too terribly deep. As I recall, you need both hands for your weapon. We’ll have to watch it and make sure it doesn’t get infected.” The vampire shook his head. “And you went behind my back and took my sleep shift.”

“I was enjoying the daylight!” Agatha hissed, now getting annoyed. “And I caught myself something to eat! I didn’t have to rely on someone else! Not to mention be appreciative of it!” She slid the jar over, watching Dracula’s Adam's apple bob as he swallowed the liquid whishing within.

Then, without another word, Dracula lifted up the cup and gulped down the contents in less than a second. When he set it down, his eyes fixed on Agatha and a chill ran down her spine. Cold. Hungry. Lack of recognition. She could hear the vampire’s breathing becoming heavier as he moved closer. Was this it then? Had she given him a wine tasting that led to the draining of the whole bottle.

“D...Dracula?”

Her voice was soft, shaking as she scooted backwards. She looked around the room for any sort of weapon in arm’s reach. Conveniently, his saber was on the opposite wall to her and the bow and arrows were out of sight. Agatha swallowed and tried to remain calm. If this was truly the end, she’d rather it’d be by his doing than that of one of those creatures. Instinctively her eyes closed as he loomed over her, the former nun waiting for his attack when a pair of arms pulled her in.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was gruff, breathing more labored than intense. “I’m okay…”

Agatha looked up only to come face to face with Dracula. She could see her own blood smeared across his lips, smelled it's strange rusty scent. How that was appetizing to the vampire, she did not know.

“I thought…” She began, quite unsure what to say. “After you drank my blood, I thought that you would…”

“Given our current circumstances, my ability to remain in control might be a little rustier than I thought.” He gave her a small smirk. “I suppose it was a good thing that I didn’t bite you during sex. Could’ve led to a less than pleasurable end.” He was silent for a moment. “Thank you. For your blood. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Agatha said simply. “I wanted to.”

“And I must say, you are quite gifted with your weapon abilities.” The vampire said with a small smile. “Abraham, though we had our...differences...trained you well. Though, I have to admit you were pretty talented with that Pattern 1853 Enfield of his. Where did it come across a rifle-musket like that? Couldn’t have been easy, especially due to the legality of it.”

“I think we should make a new rule now that you’ve consumed by blood.” Agatha said, folding her arms over her chest. “You don’t bring up any details you’ve received from my blood--unless, of course, I offer them up in conversation.”

“Pity.” Dracula said, letting out a fake, long sigh. “I have so many.”

“You should have thought about that beforehand.” The former nun exclaimed. “Questions that go unanswered can be such a bother.”

“Like an ex nun wielding a gun better than the average soldier.” The vampire replied, with a small, lopsided grin.

“Careful.” Agatha warned. “I might’ve not had practice in a few years, but I am rather sure that if I were to pick up a said rifle of my choice, my aim would be fairly decent.” She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “You should finish dressing. The sun has set enough for us to leave.”

Though she knew that their decision was the right one, part of Agatha didn’t want to leave the shack. Despite how messy and unkempt it was, it had proven to be safe. But staying anywhere too long, they had learned, didn’t always end up so. The former nun exhaled and glanced towards the rotting door and tried to push past what horrors awaited them.

XXX

“La naiba!” Dracula cursed in his native tongue as he peered over the hill. “Trebuie să glumești…”

“Maybe speak in English?” Agatha said from his side. “Ik spreek een klein beetje Nederland.” She hoped that her attempt at light humor would cause him to smile, but the serious expression did not leave his face. “What is it?”

“A horde.” He hissed under his breath. “By the main entrance into the shipyard.”

“Can you tell how many?” She replied, straining her eyes. Agatha could see movement from down below, but not much else. “...Do you think there is anyone even alive?”

“At least ten.” Dracula answered, trying to hide the defeat in his tone. “And I don’t know. Not with a group like that lurking about. And who knows how many are separated from the main herd? We could try to kill them and then look around.” He turned to meet Agatha’s stare. “I am far as one can be from a man of prayer and I know you are unique in your beliefs, but we could really use one of your mystique rituals...without a cross would be appreciated.” His attempt at a failed joke.

“We’ve come all this way.” Agatha said, moving to grab her bow. “We might as well try.” A small grin flickered across her features. “I should’ve taken the gun from my grandfather. My brother never learned to shoot anyway.”

Together, as quietly as they could, Dracula and Agatha slid down the hill. As they moved towards the horde, other zombies began to amble out from abandoned buildings. Their moves were quick, swift in killing the creatures before they could alert the others. When they drew nearer, the vampire grabbed the former nun by the forearm and pulled her in close.

“Fall back a little and find higher ground. That way you can aim better. I’ll be fine down here.” She didn’t seem so keen on the idea as he placed a kiss on her lips. “Go. Now.”

Agatha’s footfalls were soft against the dirt ground. When she stopped in her tracks, she glanced around at the sight before her. How could anyone be left alive after this? It was then she saw a pile of rubble against a collapsed building. Perfect. But just as Agatha approached her access point, she was caught off guard by a zombie. The creature made a grab for her and knocked her flat on her back. The former nun struggled, gritting her teeth as she shoved it off. With a powerful smack, she struck it with an arrow through the head. The thing fell limp and the woman scrambled to her feet.

Heart still pounding, Agatha shook her head and looked towards the direction of the horde. Dracula hadn’t seen what had just occurred and for that she was thankful. Refocusing on the house, she made her way to the debris and scrambled up. It was then she realized that while the vampire had a point about her having a higher shooting range, making him out in the midst of the ravage was too risky. He wouldn’t be happy about it, but he damn well needed her if he didn’t want to end up...something other than his usual “undead”.

“Agatha!” Dracula snapped in surprise as a zombie’s head collided with his shoe. “What the hell are you doing?!” “Saving you!” The woman declared, aiming her bow towards one of the creatures. “Clearly you need it.”

“I told you to go up somewhere high!” He insisted, lobbing off another head. “For once can you listen to me?!”

“You forget I don’t have night vision!” Agatha hissed, hitting a zombie straight between the eyes. “I don’t know why you worry so much about me. I--”

She didn’t realize the thing was behind her until it sunk its rotten teeth deep into her forearm. Agatha cried out in a mixture of shock and horror as blood spurted from the wound. Almost instantly the creature’s head lay at her feet, the horde now completely destroyed. A look of horror was etched across Dracula’s face. One she had never seen before. The former nun grabbed her injury tightly, her heart banging so hard that her chest ache.

Christ, she’d really screwed up.

I hope you enjoyed part one (of two)! I know it is a different kind of story! Dracula was saying in Romanian: “Dammit” and “You must be kidding” while Agatha said in Dutch: “I speak a little bit of the Netherlands (or Dutch).” Anyway, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Motivation helps so much! Until the next part! Stay safe and healthy! -Jen

#Dracula #Dragatha #Dracula 2020 #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #BBC Dracula #Dracula on Netflix #Night of the Living Dead (And Then Some)

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ifeellikeameowster · 4 years

Text

E.V.O.L Chapter 3- Living Dead

Chapter Summary: After a bit of a rough morning, Virgil decides to visit the grave of his long dead best friend... Meanwhile, Patton has finally graduated and is ready to take on his first assignment as a newly appointed cupid!

Warnings: Beginnings of Yandere like behavior, stalking, watching other’s without them knowing, wounds, stabbing, blood.

Pairings: One-sided moxiety.

Word Count: 4k+

Chapter followed by Author’s Note then Tag List under the read more:

Everyday I feel the same.

Stuck, and I can never change.

Sucked into a black balloon.

Spat into an empty room.

The next day Virgil found himself waking before even the roosters themselves would have crowed.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and cursing his wishy washy biological clock, he wondered if it was too early to grab a bite of breakfast. He had missed dinner the previous day, after all, having been too tired from being forced to socialize for so long with someone so new. His parents would probably understand if they caught him. They always did.

He shrugged and slung one of his lighter weighted blankets over his shoulders before taking a few shaky steps away from his bed. His legs felt like jello, making it tempting to just go back to the safety of his little nest and spend all day inside of his room. But the obnoxious rumbling of his ungrateful stomach made that nearly impossible. So to the kitchen it was instead.

Virge tried his best not to step on any creaky floorboards on his way out of his room and down the stairs. If his parents weren’t already awake, then he certainly didn’t want to be the loud, fumbling asshole that actually woke them up. Heaven knows they deserved all the rest they could get. They did so much for him. And for the whole neighborhood, for that matter.

Wonder if there’s any of those blueberry bagels left. He pondered as he descended the final step.

He went past the living room and into the kitchen, where upon after he entered, Virgil was immediately met with his answer.

“You’re up early, V.” Talyn said around a mouthful of their buttery bagel, “Can’t sleep?”

“More like slept too much.” Virgil corrected as he joined them at the breakfast bar.

Talyn was a Banshee, a wailing ghost that had the ability to warn others of approaching death.Though, they usually used their glorious screeching voice for the screamo parts of their band’s songs instead. Once in a blue moon however, especially back when Virgil had done something particularly rebellious when he was a teenager, he had had the pleasure of witnessing firsthand the more negative side to their voice. Between his maddy’s booming voice and the sad puppy dog eyes his pops had sent his way-it was easy to see why his version of a ‘rebellious phase’ had been cut short.

“I’d chastise you for your poor sleeping habits but I’m honestly not one to speak myself.”

“You’re a ghost, you don’t even need to sleep.”

“And yet here we are.” They waved the hand holding the bagel, sending some crumbs flying, “With me taking afternoon naps and staying up all night like a heathen.”

“God, same.”

“We’ve rubbed off on you too much, little one.” Talyn chuckled, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Me and Joan. Why don’t you take after your papa more too?”

“Pops is too sunshiney for me, maddy. I’m half convinced he’s made of literal sunbeams at this point.” Virgil sneered out with a fond undertone as he gently lathered butter on his own bagel, “I’m more of a punk moonchild, ya’ know?”

Maddy was the affectionate nickname he had given Talyn as a kid. He was pleased to later find out that, unlike with dammy, other kids sometimes used maddy for their nonbinary parents too.

His maddy chuckled at that, patted his shoulder, then returned to devouring their own breakfast. They both sat in a comfortable, companionable silence for a while as they finished up their food and took in the morning sights through the wide kitchen window. Then as the birds started up their autumn songs and the sun started it’s slow trek over the horizon, they both got up to put away their trash and tidy their mess. As he was putting his blanket over the couch for later cuddling-while-watching-tv purposes, Virgil’s eyes unfortunately happened to land on the calendar hanging next to the entryway. The sight of a certain circled reminder of a date he had been trying to forget caused a past pain to resurface just as hot and stabbing as the first time it had ever appeared in his heart.

He reentered the kitchen with a familiar, haunting grimace. Talyn sent him a fleeting confused look before it morphed into one of understanding instead.

“It’s next week, isn’t it?” They breathed softly, “The anniversary.” Their tone held an unnecessary weight of guilt. For even though they were a Banshee, they had not been able to foresee that death. The most important one. The one that had hurt their child so much at such a young age.

“Yeah,” Virgil choked out, tears threatening to brim his eyes, “If...I’m being honest...I’m not sure if I can make it, this year.”

“Well maybe…” They bit their lip and shifted on their feet nervously, “Maybe you can just go now? It might be less pressure, if it’s not the day of.”

“I-I don’t know, maddy. I’m still kind of worn out from yesterday.”

“Ah, the matchmaker meeting. I almost forgot about that.” Talyn moved to lean back on the counter, “How did that go?”

Virge sucked in a breath, blinked away the wetness of his eyes, and thanked whatever higher power may be for the change of topic. “Terrible, I hate socializing. Also it felt like I was being hounded by a teacher with how many questions I was being asked.”

“He needs to ask questions, dear. How else would he know what you like?” They sent him a sympathetic smile that didn’t quite meet their eyes. The mood of the room was still soured by the date hanging ominously on the wall. Taunting them both with it’s ever approaching red circle.

“What I would like is to not have to go to these meetings at all.” Virgil whined. He hopped up to sit cross legged on the countertop beside his maddy. “Why’d you and dammy even talk to him anyways? I thought pops was just going through one of his romance craze phases again, but…”

“But, we all agreed it’s what’s best for you. It’s not healthy to only ever hang out with your family. You need to spread your wings, sweet little baby boy.”

“Ew, baby talk.” Virgil mimed throwing up before crossing his arms and pouting. “Why’s it gotta be some stupid dramatically set up romcom though? Can’t I just go to an online group chat for depressed-emos-anonymous or something?”

Talyn did a laugh somewhere between a giggle and a chortle at that. They playfully swiped at his shoulder. “No, you idiot. Just listen to your parents, okay? It’s time. Way past time, actually…”

“Time to what? Get some?”

“Find someone to love. Someone to...give your feelings too.”

“I give mushy lovey dovey stuff to y’all all the time!”

“Not like that, V. To…” They tapped a frustrated rhythm onto the countertop with their long, pointed nails. “To obsess over. To be attracted to and fawn over. Stuff like that.”

“To bone.”

“Virgil!”

“What? That’s the only difference, ain’t it?” He sighed as he leaned over to place his head on their shoulder. “Why can’t platonic love be enough? I've been doing just fine with just that…”

“Honey…” They let out a sigh of their own before running a reassuring hand through his hair. “That may have been enough until now, but trust me you need this.” The soothing touch of their petting almost calmed him, until- “We need this.” They ended in a strained whisper, yet unfortunately still loud enough for him to hear.

Virgil jolted away from Talyn and off the counter as if he’d been burned. “What? You’re...You’re all trying to pawn me off or something? Finally tired of me being a fucking mooch?”

“No, no- Little one, that’s not what I-”

“Well if I’m such a leech, maybe I will go hang out in the graveyard with the rest of the rotten worms.”

The tears that had pricked at his eyes earlier decided to return, yet once more he held back the flow of the damn. His eyes reddened with the strain of the repression. Still, he refused to cry around others. Weakness was an ugly shade of color to wear. He wanted to toss out all of his flaws from the closet of his inner self and go shopping for better traits. But maybe, he couldn’t help but think...he was the one that needed to be tossed out right along with them.

Got bubble wrap around my heart.

Waiting for my life to start.

But everyday it never comes.

Permanently at square one.

“Tell the others I’ll be at the church.” He snapped instead as he rounded the corner and stomped up the stairs. He no longer cared if he woke anyone else up. His body was brimming with aggravated energy and his mind was swirling with all the possible negative implications of those few simple whispered words.

The day had barely begun and he already had a massive headache.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After having haphazardly thrown on the nearest clean clothes he could find and all but running out of his house and into the nearly empty street, save for a lone old maid that was bird watching on a nearby bench, he began to make his way over to the cemetery.

On his way there he stopped by Fauna's Florals to pick up a small bouquet of soft and pale yellow roses, the flower of friendship, because that's what he had been to him- the truest friend he would probably ever have. Besides his family, of course, though they were kind of obligated to hang out with him. And he was beginning to wonder if even that reliable, familial obligation had started outstaying it’s welcome.

Miss Fauna, having noticed his red rimmed eyes, had given him a sympathetic smile and a pat on his hand as she handed over the bouquet. He shied away from the unwanted contact and thanked her in a small voice. It was the loudest one he could muster at the time.

When it's late at night-ight,

I'm so dissatisfied-ied.

The weight of an empty life-ife,

Will lessen in the moonlight.

In the light,

In the light,-light,-light.

Shooting Star Cemetery was luckily located in the next street over, making it an easy and short walk. Yet not nearly a long enough a walk to clear his head any from the raging storm it currently housed inside. The graves were all well kept and neatly aligned. The landscaping was done with care and sheer professionalism. The overall atmosphere was more bright and welcoming than one would expect a place housing the dead could ever be.

Virgil moved past the groundskeeper with quick steps, not wanting to have to engage in any conversation with the man whose smile always seemed to stretch too far over his face and whose eyes appeared to linger on his form for too long. Especially not today of all days. He thought as the conversation from earlier resurfaced in his mind. Fresh and unwanted.

His feet took him to his destination almost on autopilot. He had been visiting this particular grave at least once a year for almost seventeen years now. Of course it would be practically hardwired into his system at this point.

“Hey, buddy.” He called out wearily as he approached. Virge leaned over to place the bouquet of yellow roses directly in front of the ivory gravestone before stepping back to sit on the grass across from it.

The stone was the lightest of the ones in its row, almost basking it in an ethereal spotlight. The carvings of angels, ribbons, and roses around it’s surface only accentuated the holy glow. In the dead center, carved in looping and elegant cursive writing, was the epitaph.

It read,

“Patton Sangster:

A young Cherub bright and fair,

Taken from this world too soon.

Now he is way up there,

Dancing between the Sun and the Moon.”

Definitely more fancy and vague than most of the epitaphs around here. Virgil mused, Then again Mrs. Songster was always the poetic dreamer type.

While on the other hand, if he had a gravestone, it would probably say something like "Here lies Virgil Spurling: What an idiot" or "Virgil Spurling: Died of Depression and General Dumbassery".

He let out a long sigh and curled his legs underneath him while crossing his arms. “You wouldn’t believe the week I’ve had, Pat.” He began, “I think my parents have lost their ever loving marbles. Don’t get me wrong or anything- I love them a bunch. But I just don’t...I just don’t get why they’re doing this, ya’ know?”

“They’re insisting I see this stupid matchmaking witch doctor guy, who probably thinks I’m a loser by the way-he seemed kinda stuck up and I kept making a fool of myself as per usual. And like they want me to get hitched to some dude ASAP I guess so I can ‘spread my wings’? Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean?”

He started waving his arms around to accentuate his ranting, ”But a part of me can’t help but think they’re just trying to get rid of me. Just pawn me off to a random guy so I can be out of their hair! But they...They’ve never said or done anything like that before...They’ve always been so nice to me and so supportive and so loving so I just don’t…”

Now, in the sanctum of this empty cemetery and the equally emptily promised presence of his only friend, he finally let the tears fall quietly and slowly down his ever reddening cheeks. “I just don’t get it anymore, Patton. Nothing makes sense. It hasn’t for a long time now. Ever since...ever since high school, really. And I just…”

“I just wish you were still here.” He hissed into the morning air as he closed his eyes and let his eyes finish emptying themselves so he could hopefully return home with them dry and pretend that they had never been crying in the first place.

From several yards away the groundskeeper stole glances at the strange visitor as he worked his usual surveyal of the grounds. However, his gleaming, unwelcome eyes were not the only pair that happened to be following Virgil that day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Patton Sangster, newly appointed cupid under Eros, had just finished the last of his angelic training and was lined up with the rest of the lucky graduates about to receive their first heavenly assignments.

Finally! He cheered in his head. A chance to prove that all of his training wasn't for nothing. He may be light hearted, but he certainly wouldn't take his heavenly duties lightly. He would prove without a doubt that being soft hearted didn’t mean he was weak. Far from it in fact. He considered the overflowing love he had in his heart to be his greatest and most cherished source of strength.

Little did the little cupid know just yet, but that unbridled and passionate love of others would soon be his very downfall.

I'm living dead, dead, dead, dead.

Only alive-live-live-live.

When I pretend-tend-tend-tend.

That I have died, died, died, died, died, died.

An elder, more experienced cupid passed back and forth in front of the recruits with a golden clipboard they had summoned. Odiel, patron cupid of dark love ballads, was surprisingly the one giving the assignments to the newbies this year. He listed off each angel and their assignment with a resigned sigh and dramatic flip of the page. He went through many graduates before finally getting to Patton, which had caused the poor angel to bounce nervously on his feet.

"Patton Sangster?"

"Yes, that's me!" He nodded eagerly with a dazzling grin.

"Hm." His superior clicked his tongue before looking at his clipboard. "No official angel name given yet. No patron title earned yet."

Patton's eager expression flickered, a brief frown gracing his features before they turned back into his patton-ted steadfast smile.

"We'll just assign you to your old hometown during life, then. And see where it goes from there."

Patton gasped, bringing his hands up to cup his face. "Heartwish City?!"

Odiel pauses for a moment to check another page on their clipboard. "...Yes."

"Yay! Oh, I can't wait to see everyone again! And help them out!"

"Mhmm. Well, you will have to wait a bit more. There's still orientation to get through."

"Oh, of course." His smile turns more nervous, "Yes, sir."

And with that, the rest of the graduates were assigned before they all headed over to the orientation stadium.

The clouds are thicker and fluffier around the stadium, which is covered in red, pink, and white decorations and gold trimmings. Eros himself stands on a stage floating gently above them. Some of his more well known cupids fly beside him and his effervescent presence. They give the awaiting crowd reminders of what-to-do's and what-not-to-do's before Eros finally speaks.

"Today is the day you truly become cupids. Go forth and spread love, devotion and admiration wherever you may fly to. Prove your loyalty both to me and to my almighty mother Aphrodite. Be the best angel you can be." He intones in a booming voice accompanied by grand hand gestures. He then bows his head toward the crowd of new cupids in respect and waves them off, officially dismissing them to their new posts.

Patton, having been absolutely jittery with excitement throughout the whole orientation, immediately flaps his small, pink and blue hummingbird like wings and takes off into the early morning sky.

His flight time is shortened by both his familiarity with the destination and his newly appointed status. So much so that to any outside spectator, he would have arrived there in the bat of an eyelash.

As he glided over his old town, he spotted several people he once new. Miss Fauna was putting up a new display in front of her flower shop. Tia and Ana were putting up an ad for their speciality tea of the day. Dr Picani was leaving the Blue Fairy Therapy building while glancing at his watch. And many, many more lovely and well missed faces.

But the one he had missed most of all was currently over at the Shooting Star Cemetery, sitting criss-crossed applesauce right in front of his grave.

Sure, he hadn't seen them in over seventeen years, not since their childhood together. But he would be able to recognize that pale face and protective spirit anywhere! This was his best friend we were talking about, after all. And Patton never took his friendships lightly. So he did a spiraling turn in the air to change directions for this newfound destination. He could worry about his other duties later, he had a dear friend to visit!

He hovered over the cemetery like an excited bee hovering over a group of flowers, staying close to the sparse clouds strewn about the glorious sunrise. Not only had Virgil grown up healthily, but he had even remembered him! And was currently paying respects to his grave, apparently. He leaned forward and focused his hearing on the sounds happening down below him.

"You wouldn't believe the week I've had, Pat." Oh dear, what could have happened? Is whatever it was the reason he was visiting? "I think my parents have lost their ever loving marbles. Don’t get me wrong or anything- I love them a bunch. But I just don’t...I just don’t get why they’re doing this, ya’ know?”

What could they have possibly done? Patton remembered Virgil's parents, three queer platonic partners who had always adored their son. They were loved by the whole neighborhood and Patton himself had also enjoyed their company whenever he had visited Virgil's house for playdates and sleepovers. He couldn't imagine them ever doing anything to harm their beloved child! But, if they had hurt Virgil somehow…

“They’re insisting I see this stupid matchmaking witch doctor guy," Ohhh! A matchmaker, huh? Virgie really had grown up! It seemed like just yesterday the two of them were talking about the other boys possibly having cooties during recess. "Who probably thinks I’m a loser by the way-he seemed kinda stuck up and I kept making a fool of myself as per usual." Well that didn't seem very nice of whoever this matchmaker fellow was. Patton would never think of his assignments as losers...everyone was equally deserving of love after all!

"And like they want me to get hitched to some dude ASAP I guess so I can ‘spread my wings’? Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean?” Wait just a minute...Matchmaker...Wings...Patton was a cupid now! Duh. The solution was obvious!

Patton puffed up his chest and fluttered his wings excitedly. He could be Virgil's new, better matchmaker. And nothing would make Pat more happy than having his childhood friend being his first assignment as an official cupid. It was all falling into place so well, almost like destiny! But Virgil was talking again now, so Patton tuned back in.

”But a part of me can’t help but think they’re just trying to get rid of me. Just pawn me off to a random guy so I can be out of their hair! But they...They’ve never said or done anything like that before...They’ve always been so nice to me and so supportive and so loving so I just don’t…”

Ahhh, this was all Virgie's anxiety getting to him again. He had always been a worrywart, even back when they were kids. He guessed some things never changed, not even when it had been so many years. Back then, Patton had always tried to ease his worries and be the most supportive friend he could be. But even at his best and most empathetic, he had been far too young to quite comprehend the full depths of Virgil's emotions.

He looked back at Virgil only to find tears running down his cheeks now, marring his dark eyeshadow. Oh dear sweet Aphrodite- he was crying! “I just don’t get it anymore, Patton. Nothing makes sense. It hasn’t for a long time now. Ever since...ever since high school, really. And I just…”

Highschool? What had happened in high school? Did someone hurt his dearest friend while he wasn't there to protect him? Patton leaned even more forward and gripped the clouds nervously.

“I just wish you were still here.”

Patton froze. Only holy magic and his grip on the clouds keeping him in the air.

I lay back in a glittering mist,

And I, I think of all the men I, I could have kissed.

I haven't lived my life, I haven't lived love,

It's just a bird's eye view from, from up above.

A part of him wished he was still there too. And that same part of him wished he had been there beside Virgil through it all. Had been there in highschool to prevent whatever it was that had hurt his Virgie. Had been there to tell that rude matchmaker off for him. Had been there to give him a lesson in proper etiquette and respect towards his clients. Had been there to help his parents find a better matchmaker. And even to help Virgil pick only the best partner for a great guy like him.

He released a breath he didn't even know he was holding in the first place. But he was here now! And he could help him now!

Now filled to the brim with determination- He hurriedly fumbled to summon his bow and quiver, which he had been storing in his Grace, and pulled out a red romantic arrow from the bag. In his haste, however, he had nicked the side of his arm with the tip of it. He paused to look at the offending wound, wondering if a nick was considered the same thing as a pierce. It wasn't, right? He didn't remember them saying anything about scratches while in the heavenly academy. Oh well, it was probably nothing to worry about! It hadn't come anywhere near his heart, after all.

Besides, Patton had much more pressing matters to attend to. And a heart that needed a connection only he could create was waiting for him. A connection that would transcend the very heavens themselves! Pat would definitely find Virgil a beloved partner that could kiss his many worries away. Many, many kisses. Kisses for that kissable mouth...and soothing voice...and soft looking cheeks…and pale, elegant hands...

Patton shook his head furiously to rid himself of those lucrative thoughts. Sure, Virgil had grown up handsomely, yeah. But this was Patton's best friend he was talking about! How could he be thinking such scandalous and traitorous things? Besides, he had chosen Virgil for his very first assignment. He had to be more professional than that! He had to prove himself a worthy cupid both to Eros himself and to his fellow angels.

He moved to expertly draw his bow, with the same arrow that had previously drawn his blood, poised in the direction of the huddled figure below him. Just as he was about to finally fire, however…He heard it.

"Patton." Just a whisper. A whimper through tears. Just a mumble amidst other unintelligible cries of sorrow.

And yet it felt like a shout. A cry for help. A plea for him. It rang through Patton's ears with the force of a hurricane and knocked him off of his balance.

The arrow cracked and twisted off it's place on the bow and turned to stab through his heart.

He choked on the blood that had bubbled up into his throat and desperately pawed at the arrow lodged accidentally into his most valuable organ.

The words of one of his superior angels and teacher, Balladeil, flared up into his mind. A cupid was not meant to take a cupid's arrow. A cupid's arrow was not made to be used on a cupid.

"Oh Eros!" He cried "Oh no!"

He grabbed at the arrow and started yanking on it. Trying to pull it out of his chest. But it was being stubborn, latching onto his Grace and using that to keep ahold of him. More blood gushed from the wound only to be consumed by his Grace as it tried to heal him from the intrusion. Tears started pouring from Patton's eyes to match Virgil's.

Then, before he knew it, the arrow had melted into his heart and merged into his Grace. And the connection had been completed.

Patton stared dumbfoundedly at the clean space where it used to be for several solid minutes. The wounds were completely healed now and the blood was all gone. It was too late. He had been too late. He had failed.

He took a shaky breath and moved to collect his bow and quiver.

He stored them carefully back into his Grace.

He looked back down at Virgil, who was getting up from the ground now.

He flew slowly over the graveyard as Virgil walked hurriedly past the leering groundskeeper.

He followed Virgil silently all the way back to his home, often passing by a strange crow that happened to be on the same flight path as him.

He watched over Virgil for the rest of the day and way on into that night.

Did I really deserve it?

It happens when you're hurting.

And cut me at the surface,

Of my heart.

Of my heart-heart-heart.

A/N: Patton, you darling idiot. You would have been fine if you weren’t so clumsy. X3 Anyways, hope y’all enjoyed! The next fic I’ll post will be that Creativitwins one shot I mentioned earlier. And then it’ll be right back into the E.V.O.L au! ;3

Tag List:

@accidental-sanders

@ren-allen

@noneed4thistbh

@virgil-the-void-kitten

@totalwhovian

@bandgeek82002-love

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#sanders sides #sanders sides au #e.v.o.l au #sanders sides e.v.o.l au #moxiety #one sided moxiety #virgil sanders #patton sanders #character!talyn #yandere #stalker #my fics #if you thought any of these ships were gonna be slow burn on the other's parts then you were sadly mistaken lmao #poor virgil

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choileon · 4 years

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( ASTORIA TASK #3: ALTERNATE UNIVERSES )

sliding doors ( self-paras )

warnings: death, murder, abuse, blood, violence, imprisonment, pregnancy, bad writing

mentions: zakary prashad, moonji min, minamoto no osamu, aleyna greer

Has it ever crossed your mind? That perhaps, somewhere else, we all live a different life, with different relationships... in another world? --- Train, 2020.

--- ( universe #1: learn to hate ) ---

Open cell 58!

The clanking sound of the metal gates had always given him a skull-piercing headache. He blamed it on the heavy annulling spells that surrounded the prison. Within each brick on the walls, to the fences around it, lights, windows… everything in there, there was a spell to cancel out everyone’s powers. Vampires had their supernatural strength and speed canceled out. Same for werewolves and shapeshifters. Humans didn’t need spells in the first place, so they didn’t feel any difference.

His block was one designated to violent criminals, and he had to say, he was one of the quiet ones in there. The warlock looked up from the book he’d been reading all week when a guard stepped inside, wearing protective gear that had been magically made to cancel out the annulling spells, thus enabling their powers. It was a smart move, he reckoned. Less dangerous for everyone. Human rights activists were certainly thankful for that—well, human rights was a way of putting it.

The guard prompted him up from his bed with the stern attitude that was required from prison guards anywhere in the world. The warlock rolled his eyes at the demand as he adjusted his glasses and abided to the man’s request, standing up from his bed and stretching out his arms to have his hands cuffed to his ankles. His powers might have been cancelled, but physical assaults were still a thing, and dangerous criminals were usually violent. Many had hit the guards before, so, this was a simple precaution.

He was brought to the visitation room, where other prisoners, each sat on round tables and chat with their loved ones. His eyes landed on a table where a single person sat, staring out at the bars behind the window near him. The same person that stood up when the prisoner approached him.

“Mr. Locke.”

He said, drawing out his hand, to which, the warlock showed his own hands, cuffed together and with a chain tying them to his ankles, making it impossible for him to return the gesture and shake hands.

“Right. Um… my name is Zakary Prashad and I’m a journalist for the Astoria Times.” The journalist produced a business card and slid it across the table, before both him and the warlock sat down. “I’m writing a piece on violent crimes that have happened in Astoria in the last twenty years and was wondering if I could ask you some questions.”

The warlock glanced over at the card, before shifting his gaze up to the journalist and shrugged. “You’re already here, so it’s not like I have a choice, is it?” A smirk appeared on his lips, fingers lacing on the table as he leaned in.

Zakary asked if he could record their conversation, to which he received a positive answer to, and so, he pulled out the little note book he’d carry everywhere, where he’d written some questions and started reading from his own scribbles.

“So… Leon Locke… twelve years ago, you murdered your entire coven in cold blood. Including your parents and sibling. What led you to do it?”

His tongue traced his bottom lip. It was almost as if he could still remember having his face and name covering every newspaper and magazine in the district. The flashes were blinding, mixed with the amount of drugs he had in his bloodstream at the time, they made everything much worse. In a way, it was almost funny that someone had decided to write a piece on him, because, although he was considered himself to be a violent criminal, Leon had never been more at peace than behind those walls. The blood in his hands had been justified. He had the right to do it. They had taken everything from him, he was simply returning the favor.

“I felt like it.”

A short answer, followed by a shrug of his shoulders. That same smirk went back to his lips, as if to pester the journalist.

“Records show that you came to your coven meeting one day, bringing several knives with you and, in a fit of rage, used your powers to kill them all in cold blood. Is that true?” Zakary tried once again.

“If you already have the information, then why are you wasting your time, asking me to tell you what happened?” Leon fired back.

“I wanted to hear your version of it.”

Beside giving his own confession in court, Leon hadn’t had the media approaching him, wanting to know his version of the story. They were all quick to judge, to paint him as a heartless monster, and with all honesty, he couldn’t care less about the titles, but knowing that someone was willing to listen was actually—entertaining.

There was a long pause between Zakary’s words and until Leon decided to share his version of what happened. Enough time for him to think this through and if it was worth going back to that night and reliving all of that once again. He hadn’t thought about that night in a while, so, his memories could be a little hazy. Especially since it had been a drug-induced rage fit.

“People tend to think that my adoptive mother was a saint.” He began. “You know… stellar citizen, bright smile, paid her taxes… all that shit. I guess everyone becomes a saint if they’re murdered… But I don’t remember a single day where that woman didn’t abuse me. Mentally, physically, psychologically… take your pick. For 20 years she was the devil in disguise, offering smiles to others while making me suffer at home.”

He paused, his dark hues moving up to the clock on the wall. They didn’t have much time left, maybe Leon could take advantage of it. Maybe he could just refuse to see Zakary the next time. “I started using drugs to numb the pain. Not the usual legal shit like weed. The heavy stuff so I could pass out and not think about it. Ever tried anything?”

“Can’t say that I have, no.”

Prude. Leon thought to himself.

“This one day, I come home—I was 18, by the way. So, I come home from a late soccer practice and Althea’s talking to her ancestors about how murdering my real parents hadn’t done anything for her yet. How sacrificing them hadn’t given her the power she was promised.” His smirk turned into a thin-lipped, tainting smile to Zakary as Leon tilted his head to the side. “That’s not something one would like to hear, right? So, I started planning to leave that house. I stopped going to coven meetings and became more recluse. I relied more on drugs and less on people. I lost my scholarship to college because I didn’t past the drug test, so of course, they had to notify Althea and her husband. And of course, I was punished for it.”

Leaning over the table, the smirk was back on his lips.

“Would you like the details of how she hexed me?” Although he asked, Leon didn’t leave much room for an answer. “One day, two years later, I finally gave in. It was a full moon… one that messed up with the witches’ powers, so that, mixed with the drugs?” He whistled, in order to illustrate his feelings. “I finally exploded…”

He let out a dark chuckle as he stared at his hands, as if he could feel that same power emanating from his fingertips. Flashes of that night filled his mind. The glory and gore of that night and the relief he felt while energy was pulsating through his veins. He could feel their blood splatting on his skin, painting him red while he screamed in anger. In agony.

One of the guards pulled him up, also pulling Leon out of his trance while announcing that visitation time was over.

“Yeah, I killed them all…” Leon said while looking at Zakary, a teasing smirk toying on his fleshy lips. “And you know what—I don’t regret any of it.” He leaned in so that only the journalist would hear it, before the guard pulled him away.

“Come back next week!” He shouted, while being dragged out of the visitation room. “Don’t miss me too much!”

--- ( universe #2: wrong side of heaven ) ---

There were too many people crying around him. He needed a break.

That was what Leon told himself as he stepped out of the wake room and headed outside for a minute. At least, the sounds of a busy Seoul would help him keep his mind on track. The striped band on his right arm, indicating he had lost someone and was in mourning, made people bow in respect whenever they walked past him. Sure, Leon appreciated the gesture, but it wasn’t like he was sad. In so many ways, he was thankful for the loss of his mother. The old woman was becoming more of a nuisance in her old days, than anything else. His father, far too busy juggling between guiding a coven and taking care of his senile wife to care about how Leon led his life, nor how dark magic was still a constant in their lives. Despite all it had taken in order to restore the balance of nature.

Leon took a drag from his cigarette, then tugging on the sleeve of his perfectly tailored suit while his eyes observed the movement of the city. Fast-paced cars, people coming and going as the lights went from red to green, then red again. He had come a long way since his childhood in Busan. A time where feelings were still present in his life. Now, he walked around Seoul as an empty shell, all thanks to the years of dealing with dark magic. He had never intended to start meddling with it. Not really. But from watching his mother practice it, he became curious. When the darkness lured him in, the tempting claws making offers he couldn’t deny, Leon didn’t resist.

It had given him everything in this world: power, influence, more money, coven members that followed him blindly as if he was some sort of god instead of his own head priest… but it had stripped him naked from harboring any feelings or dealing with emotions, which, the way he saw it, was nothing in comparison to what he’d gained. At least it had kept his sanity and youth, which was more than he could say for his mother, who decayed in months what most people did in decades.

The future was going to present him with a coven that Leon wasn’t certain he wanted in the first place. Sure, Leon was a natural-born leader, but his ideals were far from what most witches in his father’s coven wanted to hear. Now, he thought more of himself as a one-man army, rather than anything else. Chances were, he would most likely end up dissolving his father’s coven. Like mentioned before, most witches didn’t exactly agree with his thoughts, and the ones he found that actually agreed on witches being superior beings, turned out to be as greedy as him, which—was something Leon didn’t have time to waste with. Not when it meant what it usually did: a childish fight to decide who was the most powerful witch. He had no quarrel with fellow witches and their agenda of who’s coven was the most powerful. His problem was with humans. The ones that had burned his ancestors at the stake and forced his kind to live in secrecy.

Evolution, like one of their humans had presented so magnificently, was about the survival of the fittest. Evolution had given witches powers for a reason, to place them above any puny human, so how dare they think of themselves as the ones who should be out there, enjoying their lives while the witches hid in fear for their lives and practiced their magic in secrecy? Yes, Leon had found it fair to take matters into his own hands, thus carrying a lot of blood in them, but, the way he presented his case to his coven members whenever the topic would surface, had painted him as their hero and not a murderer. Why should they be the ones suffering? Magic ran in their veins, it made them three steps above humans. Like they should have always been. Why should they be the ones fighting for their lives? Humans shoulder fear witches, not the other way around.

“Yeobo.”

A voice pierced through his thoughts and it made Leon clench his jaw as the woman wrapped her arms around his middle and searched for his eyes. His mother’s last wish, was for him to marry a nice woman in order to continue their family’s legacy, and despite having done what she had asked for, Leon felt nothing for this woman. She was nice. Beautiful, smart, very interested and invested in the coven… He could see she cared for him, loved him even, which almost made him wish he cared enough to want her to find someone more suitable, someone who would reciprocate her love, but said feeling was not there.

“Are you okay? Abeonim is asking about you.”

“I came out to smoke. I’ll be there soon.”

His wife planted a kiss on his cheek and returned to the funeral home. Leon stayed outside just long enough to take a last drag of his cigarette, before dropping it to the ground and smashing it with the sole of his shoe.

On his way back, he walked past another wake room. The commotion inside made him stop and look in. People were crying… louder than he wanted them to. Older people were always so loud, weren’t they? Death was an inevitable part of life. Plus, it wasn’t like the veil was thick enough that they had to scream like that.

Inside, a younger woman held onto an older one. The loud old lady.

The sign outside read Min Moon Bin. A name he’d never heard before, but then again, Leon couldn’t know everyone in Seoul. On one corner another young woman was curled up crying. She looked more exhausted than most in that room. A smiling face on that picture frame, was surrounded by flowers. The man had died young—he couldn’t have been older than Leon. Actually, he didn’t even look the warlock’s age. Leon, despite not being an empath, could feel the love filling the room. A mix of love and sadness.

The woman that had been holding onto someone that seemed to be her mother, acknowledged his presence by the entrance. She asked her father to come to her mother’s aid and approached Leon. Her eyes were red from crying, he noticed, but her face didn’t look wet. She had probably cried in secrecy, away from the crowd. For a brief second, he wondered if that made her feel better, before the thought dissipated in his mind.

“Thank you for coming.” She bowed, and Leon arched one brow. The fact that she was assuming he knew the deceased, was hilarious. Yet, he bowed as well, mostly out of respect. “Were you friends with my brother?”

“We worked together.”

He lied. Nobody ever really ask questions whenever work was involved. Especially family. One’s family almost always knew what they did for a living anyway. Plus, lying came so easy to him, that Leon almost believed himself.

“Oh…” The brunette paused. Leon was ready to give a random excuse and leave when she continued. “So… were you there when he had his accident?”

Work-related accident. Color him curious.

“No. I was traveling abroad.”

Another pause. Silence.

He needed to leave. This was too suffocating.

“I—”

“I’m Moonji.” They spoke at the same time and Leon decided to let her continue before he gave an excuse and left. She didn’t feel like a witch. Definitely supernatural, though. “I was his older sister.”

“Choi Lee Ahn.”

He offered one hand, the other touching his stomach from over his clothes, as a sign of respect. Once Moonji let go of his hand, Leon fished his phone from inside his pocket, thankful that it had started vibrating a couple of seconds ago and it provided him the perfect excuse to leave. The warlock waved the gadget at the brunette, pointing towards the exit before he stepped away to take the phone call.

It was his wife, once again looking for him.

Back in his own crowded wake room, Leon could definitely use a drink. He was about to head towards the eating area to open a bottle of soju when he felt someone touching his shoulder, prompting him to turn around.

“Excuse me.” Moonji said, as she pointed towards the band on his arm. “I just wanted to say... I’m sorry for your loss, too. You left before I could say anything.”

“Ah…” He replied, gaze going to his arm as well. “Thank you.”

Silence yet again. People were so exhausting to him. Strangers even more so. He just wanted his drink.

“You should go. I’m sure your family misses you.”

As rude as that might have been, Leon also knew that in times like these, people were far too inclined to offer a helping hand and well—he wasn’t in need. Death wasn’t as bad as people painted it out to be, and for someone like him, it was barely felt. Yet, Leon knew that for the world, he needed to keep on acting like he was affected by it. When he died, he knew many would miss him. Life in society had given him a wife, co-workers, a coven. Plus, he knew how to be charismatic enough to leave his mark in people’s life. Hopefully, none of these people would make a scene at his funeral, but he knew he would be missed. What difference that piece of knowledge had in his life? None whatsoever.

With that thought in mind, he popped open a bottle of soju, pouring himself a glass.

--- ( universe #3: beyond ) ---

It had been a busy day to Leon. From dealing with a minor crisis at the clinic first thing in the morning, to commuting all the way to Hull’s Island to pay his parents a visit, arriving home felt like a reward for such an eventful and emotionally charged day. It was his turn to buy dinner, but with his head about to explode, Leon figured they could just order something later that night.

The ring around his finger hung heavy that evening for some unknown reason and, as he made his way further inside his house, walking past several picture frames symbolizing his life achievements, that feeling slowly dissipated. From college graduations, to vacations with friends, coven meetings, witches’ celebrations, as well pictures from his wedding day, it was odd to think that Leon had everything he’d ever ask for and so much more. As respectable job, loyal friends, a loving wife who knew how to call him out when he was in the wrong, two adorable little cats who were probably hiding out somewhere in the house… all of it dawned upon him as some sort of gift. Maybe it was life’s way of paying him back for doing what he did all those years ago.

Upon calling out for his wife, the warlock was brought to the master suite, where her voice guided him to the bathroom. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her in the bathtub, extending an invitation to join her. Knowing himself, Leon was well aware that he could never say no to her, so, once he’d gotten rid of his clothes, he sat behind her, his arms immediately wrapping around her petite frame.

“How are they?”

She asked, resting her cheek against his arm, while Leon gently pushed her hair away in order to plant kisses along her shoulder.

“I’m not sure… I mean, as well as one would possibly be in prison, I guess.”

Most days, Leon still struggled to decide whether he still felt guilty about being the one to call the authorities on his parents or not. Ever since they had moved to Astoria, when he was still a child, Leon had witnessed both of his parents practicing dark magic. Much of it happened during his childhood, so it made sense that he wouldn’t remember it. He even thought they had stopped, that they wouldn’t be crazy enough to move to a country that treats practicing dark magic as a crime, and still practice it. However, when he realized that his parents had continued to consistently breaking the law, Leon was old enough to know right from wrong, thus, reporting his parents to the police and watching as they landed in jail this day, ten years ago.

His lips brushed softly against her skin, caressing her shoulders with their light touch. His hands traveled downward, resting on her growing bump, yet another shift in his reality, but one Leon welcomed happy. The baby she had been expecting hadn’t been at all planned. Knowing of his wife’s lack of desire to be a mother, Leon was just as surprised as she was when she mentioned being late. At first, there was confusion and desperation on both sides, but Leon figured that the burden was heavier for her. Communication was essential, and Leon was glad that he was able to make her know that no matter what, he would support any decision of hers. He’d never had strong wishes to become a parent either, but, in his mind, the difference between them was that unlike his wife, he wouldn’t say no if the chance presented itself.

Well, in the end, she ended up getting cold feet on their drive to Planned Parenthood a few months ago, and they eventually decided to keep the baby. In the end, they both accepted their reality when parenthood presented itself. They were happy without a child, and they could be happy with one too… it wasn’t like they were bad people to begin with. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t give their best.

“Don’t be mad, but…”

Leon began, and his wife was quick to complete his sentence.

“…But you forgot to buy dinner.”

His wife turned her head in order to face him, rolling her eyes playfully when their gaze met. The small gesture causing his heart to skip a beat while he traced patterns over her bump.

“I’m sorry. I’ll order something once we leave here, okay? Any special requests? What are you in the mood for?”

“Hmm… definitely something cheesy.” Scrunching her nose at him, she continued, leaning up to press a kiss on his lips. “Like you.”

Leon couldn’t help but to chuckle at her joke. He was a little cheesy, there was no way of denying that… his wedding vows would know. But he didn’t think it was that bad to be this open about his feelings and about how much he loved this woman. He’d give her the world if that’s what she wanted. They’d been married for a couple of years, dated for even longer, so he would take it as a sign that she didn’t mind his cheesy ways either. In order to get revenge for the joke, however, Leon took advantage of his hand’s positions and started tickling her for a brief moment. He lived for moments like these, where her laugh would echo through a room and recharge his dying batteries. Or simply… whenever they got to spend a moment in each other’s company, just sharing ideas about which part of the house they should renovate next or talking nonsense together.

The clinic he worked at was doing some renovations, so Leon was often updating her on its progress, as well as on the progress of a little Boston Terrier’s recovery that had been rescued from a situation of abuse and was being treated by Osamu, one of his co-workers. Whenever he could, Leon sent her pictures of him (the dog, not Osamu) and if it wasn’t for the baby growing in her womb, he was sure that the puppy would end up being adopted by them once he was ready to be adopted. They were already so invested in him... Sadly, they had different priorities at the moment, but hey—they would survive. For now, they were fine just looking at pictures. Leon also let her in on what had happened at the clinic earlier that day because during his lunch break, he hadn’t been able to give her much details on it. But these three cats had been brought in after being rescued from a house fire, and Leon, being as soft for cats as he was, of course felt like his energy had been quickly drained.

His wife left the bathtub before Leon did. Choosing to stay back for a few minutes more, Leon tried to make sense out of how he felt after visiting his parents in prison. He had made a habit out of it, but not one that would make him feel bad. Every year, not necessarily on that same day, he’d pay them a visit to see how they were doing. Now, without the temptations of dark magic surrounding them, they could understand why Leon had done it. Apparently, there was some sort of group counselling in prison, too. It helped lessen his burden, but in all honesty, it would never be easy to carry the weight of knowing you had been responsible for the imprisonment of one’s parents. With a sigh and once he was ready, Leon dried himself and wrapped a towel around his middle and made his way to the master bedroom.

His arms went around her petite frame again, taking in the scent of her exposed skin. Leon knew he wouldn’t be able to be where he was without her. No big sacrifices had been made in order for them to work, but he knew not to take for granted her constant support, especially when it came to sharing his burdens with her. It was something he did with hers as well, but Leon could only speak for himself.

Turning her around to face him, Leon offered her a small smile as he brushed her dark strands behind her ear. The light pink in her cheeks making him wonder if she was blushing or if she was just feeling hot due to her body’s adjustments to the new life it was carrying.

“Have I told you how much I love you, Aleyna?”

“Hm. How much do you love me?”

She was trying to act casual. Unbothered, even. Rolling her eyes and trying not to laugh at his antics, having known this type of conversation for a while now. It was actually pretty common between them. Common enough for Aleyna to know how to respond to it already.

“Ah… to the moon and back.” He said and she nodded, waving her hand at him as if asking for more examples. “As much as the stars in the sky.”

Finally, Aleyna scrunched her nose, sticking her tongue out at his response. She did say she wanted something cheesy.

“I love you more than I love our cats.”

“Right. Now I believe you.”

Ally chuckled, patting lightly on his chest as she tried to get away from his grasp, but Leon kept her from doing so. Crouching down a little, his arms went behind her thighs and he picked her up. One arm adjusted around her back, while the other guided one leg around his waist, hoping the other would follow. The motion caused his towel to drop to the floor, but he paid no mind to it. The walk to their bed was too short for him to care. Laying her down, he hovered on top of her.

“Are you happy?” Aleyna questioned while Leon caressed her hair.

He didn’t answer it at first. For a long time, it was hard for Leon to understand what happiness truly meant. For a long time, he didn’t know if he would ever be. Maybe life would find a way of punishing him for doing what he did to his parents. Was he a bad son? And if he were, what kind of parent would that make him? Time showed that it was possible to be happy. That he had a good life. Time had given him friends, his pets, a family in Aleyna and now, a baby. But was he happy?

“I am.”

Leon nodded slowly, ducking his head to rest his forehead against hers.

“I am. I really am. Are you?”

With that, he pulled away so he could look into her eyes. Aleyna made a silly face, pressing her lips together and crinkling her nose as she held her index finger and thumb at a short distance from one another.

“A little?” He replied with humor filling his voice, moving up to his knees in the space between her thighs and leaning down to press a kiss on her lips. “Just a little?” Leon teased, mimicking the motion of her fingers, before stealing another kiss. “I guess I should work harder then, right?” With that, he tugged on her legs, pulling her downward on the mattress and closer to him. A chuckle left his lips and was muffled by hers as he deepened their kiss.

Dinner could wait a little more.

#astoriatask #death tw #murder tw #imprisonment tw #blood tw #abuse tw #violence tw #lmao sorry ;-;#pregnancy tw

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neverpeace-archive · 4 years

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@edwrd // five times + a word it’s on my old blog i’m not looking for it

one // all I want - kodaline

Bella sits in her truck in front of the empty house. It’s been a month since the Cullens left. A month since her world came crashing down. She doesn’t know why she came here, why she let herself wallow in all the ghosts she’s made in this place. There by the door a part of her is always standing, hand in his, being let in for the first time. That version of her doesn’t know yet that eventually she will be shut out.

Sucking in a deep breath, she looks at her phone, debating sending a text. It’ll go unanswered. But for a few moments she could allow herself to remember what hope feels like. Warm and bright with all of it’s possibilities. She could exist in a space where she believes he’ll answer. Where her waiting is not pointless and if she could just have even a second of that over this misery wouldn’t that be worth it?

No.

In frustration she throws the phone across the cab, finally just letting herself break down. Bella cries in a way she hasn’t since he left. Cries until she’s gasping for air and then cries some more, laying down on the seat and just letting it all out of her. She never knew that missing someone could be so painful. That it could feel like you’re dying every single time you wake up. And that memories could cut you so viscerally you feel like you should be checking for scars.

When there’s nothing left in her to give, Bella still can’t move. If she didn’t know how worried Charlie would be she’d just sleep here as the house she thought she would call home looms over her. The most vivid reminder of everything she lost. She looks out through the windshield, still laying down in the seat, and realizes the sun is starting to set. Nearly twilight.

It was time to go.

two // skinny love – bon iver

Seattle is different. Bella didn’t realize how used to the rain she’d grown, the quiet beyond that. She’d forgotten what it was like to sleep alone. A week later and she’s still looking to her window, expecting to see him coming through with a smile that always felt like it was made just for her. But all she sees are streetlights and stray cars.

By three in the morning she finds herself laying in bed and staring up at the ceiling. The neighbors above her are walking around despite the hour. She wishes she could blame them for why she’s awake right now. It’s easier than facing the fact that she has to keep her phone in the kitchen to keep herself from calling. From telling him this was all a huge mistake. That she was wrong and fuck it she’d be his wife if that’s what it took for him to believe her, she’d be his anything that he wanted for however long he wanted.

It’s not a rational thought of course. As soon as she has it her conversation with Rosalie replays itself admonishingly. And Bella knows. She knows that if she doesn’t figure herself out now, she might never know who she is outside of love. Who is she beyond the girl willing to give up her life. That girl has never gotten the chance and Bella owes it to herself. Not just to herself, but to Edward, to know that she has thought about this and even with time and space between them she will still choose him. She’ll choose eternity after having had her human experiences and realizing that they’re all good and fun but they pale in comparison to an eternity with him.

These were all things she had an easier time reminding herself of in the daytime. When she was busy with work. Or unpacking and organizing this place. There were a million things to keep her busy when it wasn’t 3 am and sleep refused to take her. In these cold hours all she can think is that she wants him. She misses him in a way she can’t describe. Because unlike last time it was her who did the leaving. So what right did she really have to ache like this?

three // i miss you, i’m sorry - gracie abrams

This was the right choice she reminds herself again. She’s two drinks in on her 21st birthday, at some club and surrounded by friends. It’s a moment she should be in fully. But her birthdays, long before Forks, had a history of sucking. So why wouldn’t she find herself dwelling on the man she missed with every breath she took?

Four drinks in and Bella was dancing. The club was so loud and everyone looked so happy. When she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror she was surprised to find she was playing the part well. All wild eyes and flushed cheeks as she tripped and laughed as a friend caught her. But she kept seeing him. In every face he was there. He was everywhere and it killed her to be reminded that he was nowhere. She was the reason she was without him and...glancing at her phone she considers it and nearly dials until she’s pulled back out and another drink is shoved into her hand.

By the time she gets home she’s sure she’ll never ever drink again. Every part of her is protesting at this point even though it’s been a couple of hours since her last drink. Of course she ends up scraping herself on the way up but she doesn’t have the energy to deal with it yet. All she can do is sit. And think. He’s still right there on her mind. She shouldn’t be thinking about him at all. How had she not drunk the thought of him away?

If anything it’s worse now. It’s all she can think. That he’s never been here. This pace has never had the gift of Edward Cullen. She wants him here so desperately that it leaves her unable to breathe. Curled in on herself at her little kitchen table, gripping the wood so tight her knuckles turn paper white. When she finally does catch herself it’s only because she pulled out her phone and hit dial. Her body only accepts calm when she gives in to what she shouldn’t, and by the time he answers she can breathe again. Maybe for the first time in years.

four // what if you – joshua radin

Coming home is the only option she has if she wants to see him again. They’ve finally been honest that they have to stop doing this. It’s killing them both. Stealing nights that don’t belong to them until she’s ready to just...leave Seattle. For good. She’s not yet realized that she is ready. It’s hard to accept that he’s not waiting for her to be some perfect person now, that’s an expectation she put on herself.

Two days after the conversation and she already wants to call. Maybe tell him to pick her up. No. God what is wrong with her? She knows she loves him. Knows that all she has to do is go home. Just. Leave.

Bella sits out on her balcony, blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she leans her cheek against the railing. It’s dark. The moon isn’t out but the streetlights glow enough that she can see the city still moving despite the hour. She’s not happy here. She hasn’t been, not really. At first it was what she needed. She can’t deny that. And at times she even loved it here. But lately it’s felt like a cage she locked herself in and doesn’t know how to get out of.

It’s easy to pretend that everyone else is holding the keys but it’s not the truth. She’s got them in hand and is clutching so tightly she doesn’t know how to free herself anymore. And maybe that was the sad truth of it. Why she kept calling him even though it killed her. Because she was so afraid of coming home and him not being there. So if he just came here. If she could lock him away with her for just a little bit...then she wouldn’t have to face what was out there. It wasn’t fair to either of them and now...now she could only take a risk. Or she could stay here. Locked away for good.

five // i can’t make you love me/in the nick of time – bon iver

South Dakota has been different. Jake left and she was glad he did. She wanted to go but...she wasn’t ready. She’d not realized how bad things had really gotten between her and Edward and facing that head on was something she didn’t know how to do anymore. They’d spent years clawing for their love and something changed. Maybe they’d just grown complacent. Or maybe they were just broken.

Jane sees the look on Bella’s face and opens her arms, letting Bella crawl into her lap. Her arms are warm as they wrap around her. Gently she rocks back and fourth. It’s here, carefully tucked away in a mother’s love, that Bella lets herself cry. Really and truly cry in a way she hasn’t for years. It’s everything just pouring out of her until nothing is left. And Jane does nothing but hold her until she’s done, and even after that she doesn’t let go. “I miss him,” Bella whispers, knowing already that Jane knows who she’s talking about.

“I know, honey. How long have you missed him for?” There’s a knowing in her tone. Something Bella shouldn’t be surprised by at this point, but can’t help herself.

“Longer than I realized.”

She’ll have to go back and face this. Eventually. Though she’s ashamed at how close she comes to talking herself out of going back. And out of staying here. This would be it, wouldn’t it? The perfect time to run. No one is here to chase her and she shouldn’t be tempted. Not after the vows and promises she’s made. But it’s a final moment of weakness. One last time she’ll allow herself the thought before banishing it permanently.

Soon. She’ll go back soon. Even if she’s afraid she’ll find herself missing him forever even when he’s standing right in front of her.

#edwrd #↟ ❝ milk and honey dripped from her lips as she answered ❞ ⸢ ic / answered ⸥#literally don't read it it's trash and i suck peeeaaaace ooooout

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teaveetamer · 4 years

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Alright just for fun Ima rank my personal preferences when it comes to Pokemon gens.

1) Ruby, Sapphire, and Emerald

Admittedly this might be a bit of nostalgia talking since these were the first games I really played as a kid, but idc I love them. Archie and Maxie are kind of ridiculous but Hoenn is such a wonderful region that’s interesting and intuitive to explore, the music is pretty kickass, and it’s full to the brim with Pokemon that I absolutely adore.

Main criticism: 7/10 Too Much Water (Also I was not the biggest fan of ORAS as remakes).

2) Black, White, Black 2, and White 2

I’ll admit I wasn’t too keen on these ones when they first came out, but now that they’ve had quite some time to sit I gotta say I love them. IMO this is the last Pokemon game that really took risks, what with having the largest cast of new ‘mons since Gen 1 (and Black and White actually forced you to use them). Admittedly some of the new ‘mons were a bit hit or miss, but with such a large cast there’s at least a lot of cool ones to choose from. I also really wish they’d revisit the sequel idea at some point, getting to explore Unova again from a different angle was truly something special.

Oh, and I’d say Team Plasma is probably, like, the least ridiculous of all the evil teams (barring maybe Rocket, since at least they’re just a gang without world ending aspirations). It honestly had some pretty interesting characters and character focus that I wish more Pokemon games would do.

Also I really liked PokeStar Studios. Sue me.

Main Criticism: A little too linear at points. I know they were trying to phase out HMs, but it did create a sort of annoying situation.

3) Diamond, Pearl, and Platinum

Also perhaps a bit of nostalgia but Sinnoh is an excellent region. Another roster of kickass new pokemon, including some new evolutions to give some of the older ‘mons a bit of an upgrade. Another thing I really wish they’d revisit at some point. There’s also lots of neat little nooks and crannies to explore, and the series’s best rendition of pokemon contests. The little areas with the AI partners and forced double battles were also really cool, IMO.

Main criticism: Not enough new Fire Type ‘mons.

4) Gold, Silver, Crystal (+Heart Gold and Soul Silver)

Crystal was technically my first Pokemon game, though I was too young to really play it properly. I know HGSS are technically remakes but I don’t think I’d like the originals so much if they didn’t get such fantastic remakes. Everything about HGSS is absolutely amazing. Pokeathalon was a fun diversion from the main game, two regions in one game was amazing, and the cute little ‘mons following you around were amazing. Buuut if we go just by the original games then they’re definitely lower on the list, just by virtue of being older games without a lot of the little modernizing touches and QoL fixes we got down the line.

Main Criticism: I find the game generally enjoyable, it just didn’t really grab me like some of the higher games on this list did.

5) FireRed and LeafGreen (with a special shoutout to Let’s Go! Eevee)

I actually didn’t play the original RBY until I was an adult, but I think by now we all know those games were being held together with scotch tape and hope. Kanto, as the OG region, has a special place in a lot of people’s hearts but I just… can’t really get that into it anymore. I mean I enjoy it, but given GameFreak’s incessant need to throw the OG 151 into everything I’m just kind of bored of the region and the ‘mons that came with it.

I will say that the Let’s Go games really spiced things up with the visible map pokemon, following/ride pokemon, different catching system, boxlink letting you switch up your party on the fly, and the adorable as fuck little partner you get to have riding around on your shoulder the whole time. Not to mention the fun little post-game challenges for the completionists out there.

Main criticism: Overuse. Also Let’s Go only included the original 151, even though many gen 1 ‘mons got evolutions or pre-evolutions in future titles. Would have liked to have seen those carried over. Was also not a fan of the lack of breeding or GTS to make certain Pokemon easier to obtain.

6) Sword and Shield

Might just be recency bias, but I did really have a lot of fun with this game. A lot of the locations were really beautiful and I really hope they bring back a big, explorable wild area type thing in the future. It’s one of those things that Pokemon always should have had, but you don’t realize how good it is until you’ve got it. The new ‘mons were probably my favorite new cast introduced in the most recent three gens. Also the clothes perfectly captured my bum aesthetic and I appreciate.

Unfortunately this game loses a lot of points with me because of just how unfinished it is. The towns were woefully small and the story was pretty non-existent. It just screams of a game execs wanted to push out to reach a deadline.

Main Criticism: Obviously unfinished. Probably my least favorite collection of starters ever.

7) X and Y

Honestly the last two slots are pretty interchangeable for me, but I will say I had a lot more fun with X and Y than I did with Sun and Moon. Even if it’s not my favorite I have replayed it at least once, which is not an honor I can give to Sun and Moon.

That said… I just hated a lot of the things X and Y did. I hated megas (and how they were forcibly shoved into ORAS), I was not a huge fan of Fairy type, the rollerskates were fucking stupid, the story was dumb, and just like Sword and Shield there were a lot of “this is clearly unfinished” moments. Granted there were less than Sword and Shield, but they were definitely still there. This was also the first gen to start the “less than 100 new pokemon per gen” tradition.

I’ll also say that this is the first gen where “exclusions” started to become really noticeable. Newer gens always removed features from older gens, but it was usually small stuff or side stuff like contests or the pokeathalon. This time around they put in a whole ass core gameplay feature (megas) only to completely remove them two gens later with very little explanation.

That said, Kalos was a really beautiful region on the whole. PokeParis is probably the best “massive city” that Pokemon has ever done.

A Random Compliment: They finally added sitting to a Pokemon game god bless.

8) Sun, Moon, Ultra Sun, and Ultra Moon

Ridiculous amounts of handholding, small cast of new pokemon, very few Pokemon I was actually tempted to use, and a region I was very meh on. Island trials really didn’t interest me. IMO they didn’t do enough to mix up the formula, it was very much still a Pokemon Game going through the Pokemon Game motions, just with a slightly different coat of paint.

I also find the existence of Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon insulting. X and Y were unfinished, but they didn’t then try to sell you the improved version one year after the release of the original at full price.

I know the existence of third versions is a bit controversial, but they didn’t bother me that much with Gens 1-4. Yellow was completely it’s own thing, and Crystal, Emerald, and Platinum were just improving on already extremely solid games. Sun and Moon made me feel like a beta tester. I was honestly so disgusted I’ve still never finished playing Ultra Sun to this day.

Biggest Fucking Criticism: They took away my ability to sit?! One gen after they introduced the magic of sitting?!

#Pokemon stuff

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jae-writes-fanfiction · 5 years

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Loki x f!Reader - 1752 words - Part 5 of 10

Warnings: Smut, which wasn’t in the outline but here we are!

Notes: I’ve been sitting on this chapter for a few weeks because while I was writing it ended up being mostly smutty and it wasn’t what I planned. Please let me know if y’all don't like it and I’ll do my best to upload an earlier version!

Summary: Immediately following the previous chapter, the Bastard Queen finds herself in a compromising position with her new intended. Without thinking of her conflicted interests she acts on impossibly strong feelings and doesn’t look back.

Tags: @dragonrosegardens @kybaeza

The tension in the room weighed down the air around you like the humidity before a storm. You felt a shiver trickle down your spine, goosebumps peppering your skin. For a split second you contemplated using a spell to get away, unsure of what would happen once the storm broke.

In a quiet flurry of motion you found yourself in his arms, your head tucked into his chest. He smelled sweetly of smoke and sandalwood, setting your tense mind at ease. You felt him softly kiss the top of your head, as he pressed his hand in yours. The small action flooded you with his feelings. This was magick you didn’t know, and for a moment you were overwhelmed by the tangle of memories and feelings surging within the spell.

Then you felt it, the small yet persistent light which held your name and all the small words and motions you’d made since arriving. You saw yourself arriving bruised head held high, a pang of pride when you insisted your title. You felt his quiet concern after parting for the night, and the small spell he cast to help you sleep. A strange moment of hope when the Allfather called you queen. Then the embarrassment over such intense and boyish feelings for someone so new and unknown. Overwhelmingly, how reverently he regarded you like the moon strong and shining cold and bright. He understood your need for justice, conflating it with his own and you were shocked to feel his resolution in restoring that justice, if only to make you smile on your way out.

When he dropped your hand, it was like being cast out into a vast void, as if nothing was real anymore. You blushed deeply, suddenly aware of his closeness. When you looked up, Loki was struggling to maintain his composure all too aware of how much he had shown you and far too familiar with rejection.

For a moment it felt like you couldn’t breath, and you worried another bout of panic would sweep you away. You hadn’t expected this, if all the things you’d heard about Loki this sort of feeling was unimaginable. Yet it wasn’t the worst thing to have discovered. Of all the surprises you’ve had this was the most pleasant. Despite his notoriety as a skilled liar, the magick itself could only relay the truth.

You expected his reasons to be nefarious, some sort of conqueror seeking to manipulate you into his home for the purpose of usurping your throne. Or worse, someone seeking to destroy you, for no reason at all. Perhaps, you thought, he wasn’t as deviant as gossip portrayed him.

“Pet,” He crooned grinning wickedly at you, “have you been thinking much towards my deviance?” The suggestive glint in his eyes almost made you blush, the innuendo a bold turn from the safety of silent communication.

The attention wasn’t unwanted, how many times had you considered his hair? Dark, and silky and what it might feel like to grasp and pull between your fingers... or his strong arms and how secure they’d felt around you for that brief second? And now the way he grinned was absolutely sinful, the gentle slope of his lips making way for indecent thoughts and reassuring you of just how deviant he could be. You remembered during your debut the quick flush spreading over his skin as he heard you wonder what it might be like to hold him there in a moment of refusal, and now you wondered if that flush applied to prolonged refusal in other areas too.

You noticed the smell of lavender, faint and almost distant. The scent puzzled you for a moment before you looked back to Loki’s eyes. They no longer held the teasing they had a moment before, as he listened to your thoughts trying to piece together this new information. Even knowing your plans to act against the contract, Loki had followed your traditions and applied the small drops of lavender oil before the feast. You'd noticed the light smell on yourself but thought it was a remnant left on your sheets. The small traditional ritual lingered as a testament to the unspoken commitment made before your gods. And all of this he did for you, the push to end the contract, following your faith all the while knowing you weren’t going to be his. Knowing he was gaining nothing from the exchange but possibly your happiness.

Your small smile had Loki lacing his arms around your waist keeping you there. The skin under hands on your lower back ached at the touch, and sent a delicious shock through your body.

You regarded him fondly, admiring his eyes. They were dark with desire, and underneath it all you saw an intense desire to be, do, and give you everything you could possibly want... You let your hands smooth over his chest, trailing your fingertips along his jawline before running your fingers through his hair. It was pleasantly soft and you decided to ask later to braid it. For now you were content to lace your fingers in the dark strands. You arched towards him, lingering fractions away from his lips.

If you kissed him, there would be no going back. You felt again how the tension had built to a breaking point, and heard how heavily the two of you were breathing. For an awful second you faltered, suddenly unsure of your place there pressed against him. Unsure of yourself and your softness and your round edges and how absolutely different Loki was and how truly he felt for you.

You blinked, cleaning your mind. You wanted this. You wanted him.

As you crashed your lips hungrily against his,nothing else mattered. Your mind was silently consumed with how perfectly he smelled of lavender and smoke, and how his hands now gripped your hips. Desperate and starved for his touch you moved yourself back to sit on the desk, pulling him back into a searing kiss wrapping your legs around his hips. Loki deepened the kiss, thoroughly exploring your mouth and noting all the small noises it coaxed from you.

He wanted you the second you walked into the palace, from the moment you corrected his father on your title he’d thought you the smartest woman he’d ever known, and would’ve begged to be with you as you now were. Your soft edges and curves felt like heaven against his sharper body, and he was quickly motivated to feel every inch of that skin.

You moaned softly as Loki moved to pepper kisses from your jaw to the base of your neck where he scraped his teeth across your pulse point. The sensation sent a wave of arousal through your veins, adding to the growing desire coiled in your core.

Loki kissed his way back to your lips, capturing them again for only a moment before moving to kiss your earlobe. His hot breath and needy hands on your waist made your head feel dizzy. He gave the lobe a light tug, causing you to arch into him.

You whispered his name, mouth dry with desire, silently demanding more.

“Do not tempt me pet” he growled.

You pressed your hands over his and guided them to the neckline of your tunic, and ordered him to tear the fabric.

Your direct demand brought new desire into Loki’s eyes and he complied harshly tearing the fabric as if it was no more than paper. You felt deliciously exposed under his gaze, as he absorbed the sight of your overflowing curves and the freckles that dotted your chest.

Within seconds his hands were pulling and kneading your breasts making you roll your hips against his. The teasing boiled within you, prompting you to claw at his shirt and trousers. He laughed at your attempts, yet quickly complied in shrugging off his garments and hooking his thumbs in the band of your leggings. He waited for your hurried nod and impatient squirms to yank them off.

Loki gripped your hips, and pulled them to the edge of the table, before slowly pushing inside you. You moaned and laid back against the table. You’d been with other men, but none as long and thick as he was. You felt your arousal spread as he stretched you. Loki skillfully pulled your hips flush against his and permitted a moment for you to adjust to his size. You linked your legs around his hips and closed your eyes as he started thrusting.

You swore loudly as he roughly drove into you, the pace relentless. Each thrust hit that spot inside you, that made your walls quiver around him. When Loki groaned at the sensation he raked his hands down your sides and pushed deeper.

You felt his hand slide between your legs, and seek out your swollen nub. Between his sharp thrusts and ministrations, you were quickly pushed over the edge to your release. Feeling your walls tighten around him had Loki growling and finishing inside you.

You lay still on the table, panting, eyes half hooded and body feeling like it was on fire. You took a moment to catch your breath, grounded by the cool wood of the table beneath you. When you rose to dress, you noticed Loki had already done so. You no longer felt the need to blush under his gaze while you moved to find your clothes. Your leggings and torn tunic weren't among the scattered papers on the floor.

“Here,” Loki said materializing your plush robe in his hand. “I’m not quite done with you yet.” You grinned and slipped the robe around you instantly relaxed by it’s woodsy scent, one you now connected with Loki. Smoke, and forests, and rain, just like home. You moved to wrap your arms around his neck, and ran your greedy hands over his strong arms and across his back. Within a second Loki had picked you up in his arms, “well my Queen, shall I show you to our chambers?”

You nodded wondering if you’d get to see his exact measure of deviance. Your mouth ran dry as you thought over the many things you’d read a couple could do...You knew servants would come to rearrange the library and realize what you’d done. If not then, in the morning when you weren’t anywhere to be found in your suite. But that sly grin and devious sparkle in his eyes pushed those thoughts from your head and replaced it with one: more.

#heavy is the crown #loki x reader #smut #loki #loki/reader #Loki Laufeyson #thor #Thor Odinson #thor movie #thor the dark world #avengers #mcu #fanfiction #multiple parts

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bensroger · 6 years

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A Night to Remember - Ben Hardy! Roger Taylor

Summary: Based off of a Star is Born, Roger is captivated when he first lays eyes on Y/N, performing on the stage at open mic night. He takes a chance and asks out, and they end up spending the rest of the night together.

Word Count: 3278

Warnings: Just a little swearing

A/N: Sorry for the repost, tumblr is shit and it didn’t show up under the tags. This is only my second fic, and I didn’t proofread. It’s not exactly like A Star is Born but heavily inspired by it. Idk how I feel about it to be honest, I said smile/laugh sooo much. I tried to not make it super cliche, but I still hope you really like this! I still didn’t proofread so excuse any errors please!

He was exhausted of the flashy parties with girls crowding around him, each out-flirting the last. Roger couldn’t complain—he loved the parties and the endless line of girls, but he was just simply tired of loud and crazy parties. He only wanted a break for one night.

So while his band-mates went off to another party after their concert in Seattle, Roger decided to just go to a mellow, and quiet bar. Walking around the dim streets, he’d only find bars full of annoying college kids or full of people drowning their sorrows. He was about to head back to the hotel until he was drawn to a specific bar. A blue neon sign so bright that it hurt to look at, read “Blue Moon Bar,” and had flashes of stars around it. It was beyond freezing at this point, and nearly pouring rain, so Roger decided it’d be best to at least try this bar out. At least it had an intriguing name…

When he stepped in, it was dead silent, and everyone’s eyes were drawn to an older women singing on the stage. Great, he thought, It’s open mic night… Roger figured he could at least order a beer or two, maybe it’d actually be fun to see people fail at sing.

After a few good singers and definitely a lot of bad ones, there was only one singer left. The host, a young girl who herself sang terribly earlier, stepped on the stage to announce the last song. “And now, everyone’s favorite, our very own Y/N!” Roger almost laughed to himself thinking about how awful the other singers were… How good could this Y/N really be?

A girl with shining, curled, y/h/c hair stepped on the stage, standing out even though the lights were dim. She was wearing a slim fit, black dress, with white gloves that went above her elbows. Roger couldn’t lie, he was struck by her appearance… Nonetheless, he still believed her singing was going to be absolute shit.

“Well hello again Blue Moon Bar, I’m so glad to be here again.” Y/N smiled into the mic, her eyes full of excitement. “So I’ve sang this song before, but it was a long time ago. Now, I’m taking you back, but adding something new… I’ll be seeing this song in French!”

Roger took another sip of his beer and nearly rolled his eyes at this annoyingly cheery Y/N. The lights dimmed, and the music began playing. “Des yeux qui font baisser les miens…” She sang, her eyes closed, and intently focusing on the music. “Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche” Her voice was amazing and angelic, and Roger’s jaw nearly hit the floor. He was awestruck…

She walked across the stage gracefully, continuing to sing smoothly. The crowd would cheer every time she’d wink or a blow a kiss. She’d often smile and nearly laugh, but still managed to sing perfectly. Roger smiled to himself, admiring the way she confidently carried herself on stage. She knew she was good. He turned around to face the bartender as she was still singing.

“So… Tell me more about this Y/N…” Roger said, sneaking in a glance at you.

The bartender glanced up from pouring glasses at Roger. “Well, as you can see she’s amazing at singing… Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. She always finishes up the night, we can never get enough of her.”

“Has she ever thought of pursuing a career in singing? Has she tried?”

“Not that I know of, we’ve all tried to get her too. She’s just scared I think, but we all know she’d go places. Instead, she just works at some restaurant across the street.”

Roger turned back around to look at you, and realized you had finished the song. “Thanks for coming everyone, I’ll see you next week.” You said with a small wave.

You smiled to yourself as you felt you had the best performance yet. You were honestly really worried about how you’d do with the French version of La Vie En Rose, with only taking three years of it in high school. You walked into the makeshift backstage area and all the other weekly singers ran up to hug you.

“Y/N, you did so good, I’m so proud!” Said Lizzie, the host of the open mic night. She sang earlier too. “It was all so perfect and angelic… The outfit, the song, your voice…”

You laughed. “Thanks Lizzie, but we both know it was just a good performance. I have room for improvement.” Lizzie rolled her eyes.

You changed out of your dress into something more comfortable, just jeans and a floral shirt, with white tennis shoes. “Honestly Liz, the cold weather is killing me, I can hardly—“ You were interrupted by a tap on your shoulder. You turned around to be met with the face of a blonde man you vaguely recognized. It wasn’t a bad face though, you thought to yourself, His face was actually pretty nice…

Before you could say anything he introduced himself. “Hey. I’m Roger.” He said, giving you a charming smile.

“Oh um I’m Y/N!” You said, with a hint of awkwardness. “I don’t mean to be rude, but should you really be back here? It’s just—“

“No worries, I asked someone if I could come back here. I wanted to know if you’d like to get out of here with me.” You were a little concerned about this Roger guy. You knew his face from somewhere… And he was just so forward…

“Well I have to work tomorrow and it’s already late—“ You began, but were cut off by a scoff from Lizzie.

“She’d love to go! Between you and me, she really need unwind.”

“Holy shit Lizzie you—“ You whispered to her, only to be cut off again, but this time by Roger.

“Great! We can leave whenever you’re ready.” He said, and then abruptly left the room.

“Liz what hell! You can’t just force me on dates with random guys!”

“God Y/N, sometimes you’re so thick… Do you know who he is?” She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, he just introduced himself as Roger!”

“As in Roger Taylor, the drummer of Queen?”

You paused for a moment, thinking about it. You listened to Queen quite often, how did you not realize he was the drummer? You sighed to yourself, and pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration.

“Well what the fuck am I supposed to do now Liz? He’s part of an internationally known band, probably has dated so many girls better than me, and I’m just—“

She put a hand on you reassuringly, “Y/N, you’re gonna be fine.”

You took a deep breath and grabbed your jacket. “You’re right, I just need to get through the night and not embarrass myself.”

You somewhat confidently walked out of the room, and entered the now almost empty bar. There were two girls at a table loudly laughing, the bartender, Drew, and then him. You weren’t as nervous before, but he sat there chatting up the bartender with a charming smile. You hated to admit how good he looked. You approached them with a nervous smile on your face, and gave them a little wave. “Hi Roger, so where are we gonna go then?”

Roger turned around to face you, and gave you a smile, “I don’t know it’s up to you really.” He said, not breaking eye contact with you, “But I was thinking we could go to another bar that’s open or back to the party and you can meet the rest of the band.”

You thought for a moment but decided you didn’t want to be partying right now. You were never a party person, always more reserved and avoided large crowds… “Not that that doesn’t sound fun… But I was thinking we could just go to Tiffany’s Diner down the road and get some milkshakes? They really do have the best milkshakes in the state of Washington, if not the west coast…”

“Best milkshakes in the state you say? Sounds tempting…” He thought, as you looked at him expectedly. “Alright, but I’m going to hold your words against you if you’re wrong…”

You grinned, and grabbed his hand, guiding him out of the bar.

The diner was practically empty, except for a trucker and two teenagers. It’s neon lights lit up the room, and the odd smell of grease filled the diner. You sat across from Roger in a booth, and talked as you waited for your milkshakes and fries. “So,” you said leaning closer on the table, “what do you think of Seattle so far?” You asked.

“It’s very umm…” He furrowed his brows, unsure of how to answer the question. “Wet.”

You laughed and shook your head. “That’s one way to describe it. I love it here though, I’ve grown up here and I don’t see myself ever leaving.” You said with a gentle smile on your face.

“What do you do for work?”

“Well… Right now I’m just a waitress at this high end restaurant… It’s no life-long career, but it pays the bills and the tips are big, so I really can’t complain.” You fiddled with the zipper of your bag. “A little birdie told me you’re a drummer in a world famous band then?”

“Yeah I am, have you heard our songs?”

“A few. They’re okay… Room for improvement.” You said jokingly with a grin on your face.

“Hey wipe that grin off of you face! We’re internationally known, I’ll have you know.What about you? Have you ever thought of pursuing a musical career? Your voice is bloody amazing.” Roger said looking at you.

You tucked your hair behind your ear, a nervous habit of yours. “Thanks but I don’t think I will. I’m not going to chase after a dream that will likely never come true. My mom taught be to realistic.” You were started to feel less nervous now, but it was intimidating to be alone with someone so good-looking and so famous. “You met my friend back at the bar, Lizzie, and she always tries to get me to sing at other places… But I’m happy where I’m at.”

There was silence for a second, but it was quickly interrupted by the waitress bringing your food. “Hey Y/N, another performance at the Blue Moon tonight, I assume. Replacing Liz I see, who’s this?”

“This is Roger, my new best friend, Lizzie got to be too annoying.” You chuckled.

“A strawberry milkshake, a chocolate milkshake, and fries. You kids enjoy!” She said.

“Thanks Carol!” You called after her. Roger was looking at you with a puzzling look. “What?” You frowned.

“Are you friends with just about everyone then?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Just with the people around here, I suppose.”

“I’m not sure if I believe that.” He looked at the chocolate milkshake in front of him. “Now, we’re going to see if you’re a liar or not. The best milkshakes, huh?” Roger studied it for a moment before taking a sip. He shook his head not saying anything.

“Well? What’s the verdict?”

Roger grinned. “That’s a pretty damn good milkshake, Y/N.”

“See I told you! The strawberry is even better!” You said taking a sip of your own. “Try it!” You said pushing your own milkshake towards him.

After trying your strawberry milkshake he exclaimed, “Why didn’t you tell me before we ordered to get strawberry?”

“Your first experience with the best milkshakes needs to be decided by you!” You beamed, and he rolled his eyes.“You know, some people like to dip their fries in the their milkshake. Liz does that, it’s disgusting.” You said, nearly laughing remembering the time with Lizzie.

“That sounds… Aggressively American…” Roger said, a shocked yet disgusted look upon his face.

You and Roger drank your milkshakes and ate the fries (not at the same time, of course), while chatting and laughing at the same time. You don’t know why he made you laugh so much and how he made you comfortable in such little time. It was weird to think how famous he was, yet here he was, enjoying a milkshake with you in a small diner. Against your wishes, he paid for your little meal and left a hefty tip for the waitress, Carol.

You looked at the clock above the diner counter. “Holy crap, it’s 1 AM. I really should be getting home, I have work at 8 AM…” You sighed, putting your face in your hands.

Roger took your hands in his. “You should come with me to my next show, it’ll be great! I could even ask Freddie if you could sing a song!” He looked at you with an excited look on his face.

“Rog, that’s sweet but I could never. Performing in a bar full of people you know is one thing, but in front of thousands I don’t know? That’s crazy. The open mic nights are just a bit of fun, that’s all… I’ll have to see you perform some other night, but right now I’m up for a promotion at work and I really can’t miss my shift.”

“I get it…” Roger said, leaning on his arm. “How far do you live from here?”

You frowned at the odd question, but answered nonetheless. “About two miles, why?”

He stood up from the table, and stretched his hand out to you. “Cause I’m going to walk you home, that’s why. Lead the way, love.”

“Roger it’s pouring you can’t honestly think we’re going to-”

“Come on, then I still have an excuse to be around you.” You blushed a bit, grinning as you took his hand and stood up.

The rain had let up, but you figured you still be drenched by the time you made it home. As you walked outside, you could see the moon slightly peeking out behind the storm clouds. You walked down the damp streets of Seattle, arm in arm. It was cold enough to see your breaths when you spoke, but that just gave you more of a reason to stay close to Roger.

Right now, Roger was telling you about how crazy tour could get, all the parties, all the fans, and all the shows… It was really intimidating, and talking about the topic made you nervous… When Roger looked down at you, he saw the look on your face, and that said it all. He could tell you were kind of freaking out.

“What’re you thinking about right now?” He smiled at you as you walked. “You kind of have a funny look on your face…”

You took a deep breath in… “I just… I don’t know… Why me? I’m just some girl from Seattle nothing special or different-”

“I knew you were special from the moment I saw you on stage in that black dress. The way you carried yourself on stage… The way you interact with people and have all these friends… I’ve shamefully met a lot of girls on this tour, and none of them have been like you.”

You bursted out laughing, despite your attempts to keep it in. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry everything you said is super sweet, and I appreciate it, I really do, but it’s just so sappy and cheesy.” You giggled.

“Hey! Don’t make fun of me, I meant what I said!” Roger said, slightly laughing himself. “Okay… Yeah… It was a little cheesy.”

“Rog…” You stopped walking. “You aren’t gonna just forget me like all of those other girls right?”

“Of course not, I never intended to.” He frowned.

You tried to hide your smile but you couldn’t. After one night, you sort of fell for this stupid boy with messy blonde hair. It was hard not to. You continued your walk, telling him the story of Lizzie shamelessly mentioning to everyone how well you could sing. You told him a lot of stories, too, and in turn Roger told a few tour stories and about his band.

“They really seem like fun, and they all sound lovely. I’d love to meet them sometime.” You said, beaming up at him.

Roger shook his head. “‘Lovely’ isn’t exactly how I’d describe them but… I’m sure they’d love to meet you, too.”

You stopped in front of your apartment building, both of you drenched, the hair sticking to both of your faces. “This is me, right here.” You gestured toward the building.

“I’ll be sure to take note of your address, send you some letters.”

“That’s sweet and all but wouldn’t it be easier if I just gave you my number?” You questioned, and he just nodded. You took a pen out and wrote your phone number down. “Be sure not to wash that off.”

You stood in front of your apartment building’s door. “I have to admit, I didn’t think I’d enjoy this night as much as I did. Thank you, Rog.”

“The pleasure was all mine.” He gave you a small wave.

The rain was starting to fall harder, and the street was dark except for a dim light. You waved, and took one last look at him before you pushed the door open and walked inside. You tried to shake the water out, and realized how could you were now. You were almost at the stairs when you heard a knock on the door, and you turned around to see Roger.

“Now what is it?” You said playfully, as you opened the door and stepped out in the rain to meet him.

“You forgot something” Roger said leaning close to you. He was a lot closer to you now, you could feel your heart beating in your chest, and your face burned. Luckily for you, your blushing was hidden by the darkness of the night.

You frowned trying to think what you forgot. “No, I don’t think so I got my purse right h-”

He interrupted you by grabbing your face, and resting your forehead against his. He kissed you softly, and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words never would be. His hand rested below your ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he pulled you closer until there was no space left between them. You could feel the beating of his heart against your own chest.

You both slowly pulled away, both resting your forehead against one another’s. “Be sure to call me, okay?” You whispered, and he nodded. You gently kissed his cheek once more before breaking apart, still holding his hand as you walked toward the door. When you got far enough, your hands also broke apart, and he allowed it to fall to his side. You opened the door and finally went up to your apartment.

The clock on your nightstand read 2:38 AM, and you shook your head over how much time Roger had taken up. You had to wake up in five hours, but you were pretty sure you’d have trouble falling asleep. As you now laid in your bed, thinking about the night you met and spent with Roger, recounting every conversation, every smile, and every laugh… You knew that this was a night to remember forever.

#also feedback always helps #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #bohemian rhapsody #queen #imagine #freddie mercury #john deacon #brian may #ben hardy #roger taylor

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noona-clock · 6 years

Text

Please Come Home for Christmas 🙏

Genre: Star Trek!AU

Pairing: Jae x You

By Admin B

Bells will be ringing the sad, sad news Oh, what a Christmas to have the blues My baby's gone, I have no friends To wish me greetings once again

Jae nodded at the man outside of the grocery store, shoving his hands in his coat pockets and wordlessly walking right past him, in through the sliding doors.

Those bell-ringers had been around for centuries, apparently, and if history was to be believed, about as many people ignored them now as they did back then.

Personally, Jae just couldn’t stand the sound of those jingle bells. Not this year, anyway.

Because you were gone. You’d been on assignment on the USS Billings for almost eight months now, and you wouldn’t be back on Earth for another four or five.

And, as it turned out, almost everyone Jae knew was either in another country visiting family or on another planet for whatever reason.

(gif by @cramelot)

So here he was. Alone at Christmas time. And it sucked.

He would never blame you, of course, because Star Fleet was your job. Not only that, it was your dream. It had been before the two of you met, and it would probably always be.

You assured him over and over that he was also your dream, a new one you’d acquired not too long after meeting him and realizing how special he was. But when you’d learned from Commander Janeway that the USS Billings would be going out to explore moon volcanoes... you hadn’t been able to resist. Even though it meant a little over a year away from Jae, the love of your life.

He had promised you multiple times he would be fine. He would miss you like crazy, but he would be fine knowing you were doing what you loved, what made you happy.

But, still. Those jingle bells were really starting to depress him. Maybe he would be fine again once Christmas was over, but... right now, he kind of wasn’t.

Choirs will be singing Silent Night Christmas carols by candlelight Please come home for Christmas Please come home for Christmas If not for Christmas, by New Year's night

The longest, most exhausted sounding sigh escaped Jae’s lips as he plopped down onto the couch. He’d finished putting all the groceries away (it really was no fun going grocery shopping by and for yourself), and he could now enjoy the ready-made Cardassian Zabu stew he’d just purchased.

“All right, what’ve we got tonight?” he murmured to himself before saying, “Computer, turn the television on.”

The last thing Jae watched on TV was the morning news, so the television turned on to one of the major networks. Tonight, apparently, they were airing a Christmas special.

Great. Just what Jae needed to get his mind off the fact he was completely and entirely alone for Christmas.

Before he could change the channel, though, a choir began singing ‘Silent Night.’

Oh, god. This was your favorite Christmas carol.

You were completely tone deaf so you couldn’t sing it in the least, but you made Jae sing it. And you always sat there and listened with the most adoring gaze, a soft smile pulling at your lips. No matter how many times he sang it for you, it never seemed to get old.

The choir on TV were singing an acapella version, all of them holding hologram candles and singing with such emotion.

Emotion that Jae could definitely feel.

I mean, he felt emotion on a regular basis, of course. But you know what I mean.

Why couldn’t you just come home for Christmas? Just one day? Or even New Year’s?! If he could have one day with you for the holiday season, he knew that would be enough to help him get through it.

Friends and relations send salutations Sure as the stars shine above This is Christmas, yeah, Christmas, my dear The time of year to be with the one you love

“Computer, check the mail,” Jae requested once the front door closed behind him.

That was one thing he’d had to get used to after you’d left.

Usually, you were home from work before him, so you’d already gone through the mail by the time he arrived. If there was anything for him, you’d let him know, and he would go in and look himself.

It had taken him at least three weeks to remember to check the mail every day right when he walked in the door. And even then, he still forgot sometimes.

It was truly the little things like that he missed the most. The things he took for granted like you checking the mail.

The computer pulled up a hologram screen and showed a couple of bills, some junk mail, and... about three Christmas greeting cards. One from his aunt and uncle who now lived on Bajor, one from your college roommate over in South Africa, and one from your dentist.

Okay, so that last card didn’t quite pull at his heartstrings, but still. Just the fact he was receiving Christmas cards, and you weren’t here to look at them...

I mean, it’s not like he expected people to not send him cards. You were on a Starship in the Beta Quadrant; you were still alive, thank God. It was a very normal thing to do. The two of you had sent out your own Christmas card last year, and while Jae had been tempted to just send the same one again, he’d finally decided not to. He just wasn’t feeling it this year, so why pretend?

He didn’t want to make it seem like he was spending the holiday with the one he loved when he actually wasn’t. He shouldn’t have to act like everything was fine when it actually wasn’t.

It really just do be like that sometimes.

So won't you tell me you'll never more roam Christmas and New Years will find you home Please come home for Christmas Please come home for Christmas If not for Christmas, by New Year's night

Right after he paid the bills which had come through in the mail, another hologram screen popped up over the kitchen counter.

Incoming Call from the USS Billings

Jae’s heart started to race, and he said, “Computer, answer call,” immediately.

Your smiling face appeared, and he was instantly relieved to know it wasn’t a call from your Captain or from the Chief Medical Officer.

“Hey, you,” you greeted. “I’m sorry I haven’t called in a few days, it got a little rocky up here.”

“Everything’s okay?” Jae asked with raised eyebrows.

“It is now,” you explained. “A few people got hurt on an away mission a couple days ago, but I think everything’s settled down now.”

Jae couldn’t stop himself from letting out a little sigh of relief. He was sorry anyone had gotten hurt, but he was glad it hadn’t been you.

The two of you got to talking, filling each other in on what had been going on... but then you suddenly furrowed your brow.

“Are you okay?” you asked gently.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Jae replied automatically.

But, obviously, you didn’t believe him. You knew him well enough to know when he wasn’t “good.”

“What’s wrong?” you urged.

Jae’s gaze flitted off to the side, and his jaw clenched slightly. He’d wanted to put up a good front for you since there was literally nothing you could do about it, but...

“I just... miss you.”

You let out a soft sigh, the expression on your face turning into one of complete guilt and concern and anxiety and sorrow.

“I miss you, too,” you assured him. “You don’t know how often I think about you... worry about you.”

“I bet I do know because I think and worry about you just as much.”

A soft, sad smile tugged at your lips. “The mission is more than halfway over. I’ll be home before you know it.”

“I know,” Jae sighed. “It’s just... Christmas. It’s lonelier than I thought it would be.”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line, and now it was your turn to look off to the side of the hologram camera.

“No, baby,” Jae said quickly, now feeling terrible that he was about to make you cry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t --”

“If I could be there on Christmas Day, I would,” you choked out. “In a heartbeat.”

“I know, baby. I’m not blaming you. I’m not even upset with you, it just --”

“Sucks.”

“...Yeah.”

A heavy silence filled the room for a few moments, but you broke it by taking a deep breath in.

“I’ll call you on Christmas, okay? I’ll call you whenever I can. We probably won’t get much done on here, anyway, since I know I’m not the only one missing their family.”

Even though Jae’s expression had been utterly solemn, the words which had just left your lips had brought a smile to his face.

One word, in particular, actually.

Family.

You’d called him your family, even though you two were technically still just dating.

He wasn’t really sure why this made his heart soar, but it did, and he was going to try and ride it out for as long as he could.

“Okay,” he nodded, feeling more optimistic than he had in a while. But he shouldn’t be surprised. It was you, after all. “I’ll be here. But don’t worry if you don’t get a chance. I understand.”

“I know you do,” you gushed. “That’s why you’re so amazing. But, trust me, I will call you. No matter what.”

There'll be no more sorrow, no grief and pain And I'll be happy, happy once again

Did Jae feel absolutely, totally, 100% better when he hung up? No.

His heart still ached for you. He still wished he wasn’t alone on Christmas. He knew he would be so much happier when you got home, safe and sound.

But he would get through it. Because he had no other choice. That’s just how life was: it has its ups and downs, and sometimes the only thing you can do during the downs is to just get through it. Keep on living life day-to-day and hold onto the hope things would get better.

And, sometimes, those downs just happened to be during Christmas.

Like I said, it really just do be like that sometimes.

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cloudynames · 6 years

Text

The Earth Fell in Love with the Moon

okay the long awaited story is finally here!! jesus christ it took so long i am s o r r y. all that matters is that its finally here and i hope you all enjoy <33 this is one of my favorite pieces ive written in a long time so i hope itll satisfy everyone

Word Count: 6,468

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Sensual themes, swearing

lets get it

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If there were two things you were good at, it would be creating new gadgets and rejecting opportunities. Every step of your life, carefully crafted, led you to achieve your dream job at NASA. Out of the ordinary, you weren’t actually all too interested in space. You fell in love with rockets and mechanics. The sound of metal clashing and seeing your creation come to life fascinated and drew you in, trapping you within the life of a mechanic. However, you preferred to use your proper title of ‘Head of Maintenance and Mechanics.’ Life was extraordinary with a powerful position, having seen things no ordinary person would. Coming home covered in soot and sweat was fulfilling and you wouldn’t want it any other way nor felt the need to make additions.

As a result, rejecting the continuous romantic advances from a new trainee named Kun forced you to become abnormally professional when it came to denying someone of any desires, work or romance related. He arrived in the spring with an abundance of other rookies and as spring faded into summer, many of his comrades dropped like flies soon realizing the commitment it took to become a master of space.

Everyone left except a few, one of them being Qian Kun. Kun was a flame. No, not like a bonfire flame, ready to devour whoever got in his way of his dreams. Much to his dismay, he resembled a candle, barely burning and a threat to none.

Well, maybe a threat to you.

With a flat screwdriver in one hand and the other in a bag of screws, you started repairing the outside of the newest spacecraft, ready to be launched next season with high hopes for technological advances. You didn’t spend much time working on the rocket yourself due to your position but it seemed like everyone decided to take the day off in your department. Left mostly alone, you were running around to complete daily tasks while putting your foot forward for NCT 2XXX, also known as the pride and joy of your life.

Working with multiple people within the industry, you were one of the lead designers of NCT 2XXX, a marvelous spaceship with an exterior as strong as diamonds and interior just as remarkable. You have been with NASA for over five years and with NCT 2XXX for three. To say you were loyal to both projects was an understatement, you were unbelievably devoted. With a project as spectacular as this under your belt, you were bound to become one of the most famous engineers of all time. Perhaps in the future, historians would print the name with such care and remember the time from when they were a child, seeing the ship shoot off into sky for the first time.

Once the final screw for the plate was tightened into place, you sighed and peeped back at the row. It had only been a few minutes but it felt like forever, hunched over repeating the boring hand movements. Guilt exploded in your stomach. You’ve been assigning newbies to do this for months on end? A mental note was formed in your head, remembering to make sure they have some diversity.

A hand clamping down on your shoulder disturbed you greatly, almost spilling out bolts and screws from your pocket. Without turning around, you yelled, “Qian Kun! How many times must I tell you to leave me alone when I’m working!”

Giggles spill out of the offender as he shuffled closer to you. “Wow, this is what Head of Maintenance does all day? How come you never have time to talk me since you can multitask perfectly fine?”

Starting on a new row, you rolled your eyes dramatically, “Maybe it’s because I don’t want to talk to you?”

“Why are you so mean?!” Kun whines, pathetically stomping in place.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” You snap, turning around and giving yourself a serious case of whiplash.

“I’m on break but I can leave if you really want me to!” He tempts, a mischievous glint lingering in his eyes.

“What’s the condition?” You exhaled heavily, mentally preparing yourself for whatever he decides to shock you with today.

“Go on a date with me!” He pleads, sticking out his bottom lip and giving you puppy eyes. Sweat drops smeared his forehead and his hair was messy from his training. Dark spots soaked through his training uniform and his glowing, honey skin was covered in bruises and scars. As pitiful as he appeared, you clicked your tongue in annoyance and turned around.

“I’m not interested, space boy.”

“But I’m interested.” He counters, frowning and nearly throwing a temper tantrum. Was this man really an adult or a man-baby?

Your mother had taught you that patience would be the greatest virtue in life. She had made sure you expressed it every day, having you write down one thing each day that you had to wait for and the relief following. With a hushed voice, she told you that good things came to those who were patience--especially to those patient with people. Kun was putting this theory to the test today.

“Ah yes, because bothering me every minute of the day will make me fancy a date with your lame ass!”

Before he can respond, his training coach blows a whistle, signalling breaktime was over. He burns holes into the back of your head, observing intently as you rummaged through the wool bag for a knot.

“I’ll be back.”

With that, he left in a flash and leaving you to nearly scream his name.

If Kun said he was going to be back, he was going to be back.

Five hours later and a provided lunch break from a local mom and pop place, you were seated in the meeting room with a water bottle and notepad. Tapping incessantly, you wondered why the higher-ups called you in for today. They never ringed for you, only when they needed to figure out why a rookie was causing trouble.

Suddenly, a click was heard and the shuffling of men and women came herding in, murmurs spreading across the room. Once comfortable in their respective seats, the woman at the head of the table opened, “Ah, (y/n), our most important piece to NASA!”

Rolling your eyes subtly, you give a sickly, sweet grin, “Yes, yes. How may I be of assistance today?”

The projector snapped to life and the lights dimmed. You turned to the screen, waiting for further information.

“Well,” a man with glasses and slicked back hair states, “We have all seen you work on NCT 2XXX and do believe us when we say that it is beyond terrific! That being said, one of our previous correspondences had recently left us due to seeking more and become greedy in his work. We need someone to finish WayV, another rocket for a specialised group of astronauts.”

Biting your tongue, you stared at everyone in amazement. “So I’m supposed to work on two projects?”

“Precisely.”

They left, shaking your hand and thanking you profusely for being so corresponding and helpful. The entire time, your mind was in overdrive. How were you supposed to finish two projects near the same launch date? It was near damn impossible! Of course they were sure to pay you more to compensate, but in such a short amount of time, maybe it was better to reject their advances. NASA had hired more engineers for this exact reason; why did it have to be you?

Staring at the blueprint on top of your wooden, almost broken desk, you reached over for your phone and checked the time. Midnight was plastered on your screen and you groan, extremely close to slamming your head on said desk. Your head was aching and your heart was pounding abnormally. Stress is an important part of life but after living life so plain and planned out, unforeseen problems caused you to lash out in your thoughts.

Marks began to appear on the sheet of paper as you sketched out a very, very rough version of the final product. With a haze clouding your mind and your eyes too focused on the design in front of you, Kun quietly snuck by and leaned down to your ear.

“Boo.”

Nearly falling back in your chair, you pushed yourself backwards with a hand on your chest. Kun, knelt over while dying of laughter exclaimed, “Oh my god! You should’ve seen your reaction!”

A rosy hue graces your cheeks, making you scrunch up your nose and return to your work. Mindlessly drawing hearts and stars and swirls in the corner of the paper, you mutter, “Why are you still here?”

“Aw, are you embarrassed? You never just ask me a question without calling me a name!” He teases, ruffling your hair and using a pointer finger to press deeply into your cheek.

Groaning, you push him away and huff, blowing the hair in front of your face to flip messily to the back. Kun wasn’t going to leave any time soon, especially if he was here already after his training period. You grab the stool which you were using to prop up your feet and slide it to the side of you, patting lightly on the top. He stares and points a finger at himself, asking ‘me?’ within his head. Adding an overdone nod finally connected the dots in his head, placing himself to the right of you.

“Are you going to ask my question or do I have to choke it out of you?” You threaten, playing with the lead in the pencil a little too much for his liking.

“Ah, well to be quite honest, I’m not sure. I guess I didn’t want to go back to the dorms just yet.” He reasons, avoiding your judgemental gaze.

Kun was a man of many talents. On his first day, officially hired as an astronaut, he entertained the conference room with a deck of cards, magically shaking one and flipping it over to reveal a heart. Your superiors were impressed, slowly falling in love with his charisma from day one. Then, a few days after while carrying in a shipment of new parts, you overheard a sugary voice singing in a tongue unfamiliar to you. Perhaps you lingered around the area longer than needed only for Kun to walk out with wet hair and still buttoning up a shirt. He flashed a smirk to you and strolled the opposite way, leaving you to slump against a wall, desperately trying to fan yourself off. From that day forward, his furrowed eyebrows and pushed back hazel locks had you stealing glances at the boy. One would be a fool to reject the attractiveness of Qian Kun. He was charismatic, talented, and handsome.

Although he was practically a Greek man, he was a terrible liar.

Humming in response and letting it pass by you for now, Kun broke the silence, “Why are you here though?”

“Well, I’ve been assigned a new project and unfortunately it won’t be completed during regular work hours, hence why I’m staying here at,” you took a swift glimpse at your phone, “12:17.”

“Do you at least get paid extra?” He asks, stealing a pencil from your desk and twirling it between his fingers.

Rolling your eyes woefully, “Nope.”

“So why do you do it?’ He questions, throwing a fit and muttering about how he’ll take it up to the higher-ups for you not receiving adequate pay.

With an exasperated yawn, you stare with him with stars within your eyes and a drowsy smile painted on your lips, “Because I love my job.”

Kun gawked at you, mouth slightly parted open. A lot of the time, you pushed him away yet here he was, sitting so close to you and conversing with you like close friends would do. With your tousled hair, falling upon your face and framing you beautifully, he gulped. Your doe eyes seemed to look into his soul and he was afraid you might find all his secrets he has casted away. The bags under your eyes and puffy, red cheeks displayed off the delicate side of you that he wasn’t sure you even possessed until tonight. At work, you were always headstrong and devoted. Seeing you in such a way had his heart pumping wildly, so much so that he almost led one of his hands to hold his chest for he felt that his heart was going to burst. You were hardworking, intelligent, and beautiful.

Qian Kun was simply smitten for you.

Increasingly, Kun had started to stay behind longer with you, assisting you as you worked late until dawn. He barely had any time to sleep but sharing secrets and giggling in the dusty work closet made up for all the time lost. Both of you would make fun of your superiors or play silly computer games in one of the research rooms while eating whatever Kun decided to cook that night. It wasn’t all fun however, you made sure of it. He would help you lift objects and hammer out sheets, bringing you closer to completing both WayV and NCT 2XXX.

Even though he stayed with you until ungodly hours almost every day, you questioned his true intentions. Every time you asked him why he stays late, he simply shrugs and answers with a joke. Deep down, you wished for there to be a hidden reason. Spending more time with the Chinese boy had you falling for him harder than before. Your hateful scowls turned into fluttering adorations and fluttering touches. A friendship was developing before your eyes and as you began to know more about Kun, you started to become dependent on the extra company.

For the past two days, you waited patiently near your desk for the boy to come bouncing to your side. Unfortunately, you would receive no call and were left to work in utter silence except for the melodic piano arrangements lulling softly in the background. As a result, this led you to believe Kun was upset at you. Flashbacks occurred in your head as you thought back to what could’ve frustrated the joyful boy. You did spill a sticky, dark soda on his white shirt just a few days before he disappeared. But was Kun one to hold grudges?

On the third night of listening to the same piano arrangement, footsteps emerged from behind you and you shut off your phone, turning your head before facing a sleep-deprived Kun. His face was adorned with purplish undereyes and stress written all over. He moved sluggishly, grabbing his usual stool before slowly setting himself on top. Kun watched with tired eyes, no life found within them at all.

“Are you okay?” You ask, concerned, and place a hand on his shoulder. Rubbing small circles in his back, you hope to comfort him in such a time of distress.

“Yeah, training has just been really… rough.” He trails off, eyes falling to his lap and moving further away from your touch.

Nodding, you resume to your work. You wanted Kun to be here for the past few days, but why is it that when he appears, you wish to be alone? His cold presence disturbed you and your wish to disappear grew. An irritated Kun was not someone anyone would want to spend time with.

“They told me I would never be an astronaut.”

You nearly drop the circuit board as his voice falters, hoarse and defeated. Setting down the piece of technology, you scoot closer to him.

“Don’t listen to them.”

He laughs mockingly, shoving his head in his hands. “I have to. Our test results and training progress came out. My test results are fine; I’m average. Yet, my training scores are the lowest in the group of all the rookies combined. I got yelled at by my teachers and one of them said, very distastefully might I add, that I would never make it to the sky. He mocked me, saying I might have the confidence and cool factor but I would never accomplish anything or become anyone.”

When he lifts his head, his cheeks are stained with waterfalls and his lip quivers for relief. Out of character, you grasp him and pull him into your chest, hugging tightly. Tentatively, he wraps his arms around you and bursts into tears once more. Your skin feels hot and sticky from his hold and your lab coat rapidly becoming soaked from his cries. A hand drifts up to his hair as you curl his locks between your fingers, shushing him as his sobs grow in volume. The once joyful boy was now wailing in your arms about how he’ll never be good enough for anything. Heartache hurts, especially because Kun is so cheerful all the time. Never in a million years you would’ve thought that a day might come where he shows his piled up hidden feelings of stress.

His body gradually stops shaking and he removes himself from you, rubbing his cheeks and eyes. You pass him your water bottle and he laughs, taking a sip. Although he appears better, sorrow hides in his iries and your own tears well up. It’s time to repay Kun for all his charity.

“Kun, you’ve helped me throughout this entire project for Wayv. I think it’s time for me to help you.” You state, flashing him a wide smile.

“No! I’m okay! You don’t need to.” He argues, sulking.

Ah, there it was. His fiery personality made a come back from his recent gloomy demeanor.

“I want to and I will. That is final.”

His pout expands and your grin only grows as you return to the circuit board, knowing you won against Kun.

The next night, with two energy drinks and a haul of textbooks, the two of you laid down in one of the break rooms with the comfiest couches and softest blankets.

You examine one of his test scores, curled up in a blue comforter.

“Hm, your mathematics skills are off the charts good. Did you major in math?”

He nods, looking over terms in his notebook. Kun flips through the words too briskly for your liking. How did he even retain any of that information?

Scrunching your nose distastefully, you start, “You’ll never learn terms with definitions like that. Use flashcards or use an app that’ll repeat the answer and definition multiple times.”

His mouth hangs open, shocked at your abrupt reprimand. “I never had to do that! Math is so easy. You barely have to memorize anything! Only a few theorems but you could practically bullshit that.”

“Well, now you have to. Your biology is good but your physical science and engineering has work to be done.”

He lets out an obnoxious groan, snuggling deeper within the blanket wrapped around him. After a few moments of him complaining, he grabs a pen and a few flashcards, diligently writing down terms to definitions. You scoot closer to him, your head so close to leaning on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” A quiet voice whispers and he turns his head to you, a small smile graced upon his face.

“Of course. If you told me you were struggling earlier, I could’ve helped you more.”

A groan falls out of his mouth, “No, (y/n). You’re too busy with your projects anyway. I don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me at all!” You grumble, bumping into him and having his pen spill from a perfect line to a crooked mess. He glares, relining his design.

“I felt like I was though at one point.” He confesses, tapping his pen repeatedly against his book, eyes piercing into yours like daggers. “Why did you try to push me away so much?”

Ah, you should have foreseen this. Kun was a curious man, hence the reason for striving to become an astronaut. He asks questions until he makes you beg to just shut up. All his teachers probably wanted to kill him by now due to his incessant whining. His goal, clear in mind, was to find out the reason behind your fake distaste for the cadet. Red as a ruby, you lifted your head and gazed back, faked your innocence, “What do you mean?”

He shoves his work aside and adjusts his entire body, muscles flaunting off. Has Kun always been so lean?

“Obviously I’m talking about a month ago where you wanted to punt me into space if you ever got the chance.”

“Haha, very funny.” You mock, truly laughing afterwards. “To answer your question, I don’t know what changed.” To take the leap of faith or not might’ve been the hardest decision in your life. Nothing in your life could’ve prepared you for this exact moment in life. Comparing this dangerous moment to everything in college, you rather take every course all over again. If he rejects you, you’re back to the mundane life you’ve always known. Although in the slightest chance he might accept you, life would be a fairytale.

Fuck it.

“Maybe it’s how your eyelashes flutter when you’re almost asleep or how you push your hair back just the way I like it. I don’t know when everything changed. To put it simply, I started noticing things about you that nobody else would ever notice. You like black coffee but if you didn’t have to restrain your calorie intake, you would order the sweetest thing on the menu. Whenever you laugh at something stupid, you throw your head back and hide yourself, embarrassed to be in the moment. But no, it could’ve been when you mumbled translations under your breath as you read instructions or how your fingers ghosted upon my skin late at night. I think I really am whipped for you--”

Kun gently grabs your face and closes the long gap between you two, his tongue licking your bottom one and exploring your mouth. Still focused on you, he unwraps himself from his cocoon and climbs on top of you, hands running through your hair, desperate and longing. He made you experience all this pent up emotion he had towards you and it felt as if you were floating on a cloud. It was dirty. Lying in one of the breakrooms with a boy, who you weren’t even dating, and having his hands roam all over your body.

His hips rolled against yours, making you gasp at the sudden contact. Whether it had been accidental or on purpose, you craved for the motion to happen once more. Kun smelled like vanilla and left your head hazy and light. Hands disappeared from your hair and moved under your shirt, his thumb playing with your waistband. His breath was sweet and tasted like the chocolate shared between the two of you just a few hours ago. He pulls away suddenly, a string of saliva forming and the sight has you heavily breathing. Kun leans down once more and leaves a kiss on your forehead and you reach for one of his hands, intertwining your fingers.

“So, you’re clearly experienced. Have you been kissing any other engineers other than me?”

“Shut up!” He yells, tickling you relentlessly for a minute before brushing your disheveled hair out of your eyes.

“Only you, baby. It’s only ever been you”

Midnight blue nights with Kun was the highlight of your life. Working all night till dawn seeped into Kun’s dorm fulfilled you and you wouldn’t have it any other way. It might’ve been harder to focus due to calculated distractions conducted by the mischievous boy but when it came down to crunch time, both you and Kun worked in perfect harmization. The beginning of summer morphed into a deep heat of August before you even had a chance to blink and walks to the convenience store to buy ice cream became a must to combat the humid heat.

Glancing at your phone, you inwardly groaned seeing the time was only five. It would be so long until you could see Kun again. With your brain being fried from all the hard work from the day, you took a break. Mindlessly, you scrolled through social media and caught up with the recent drama. Your break was cut short as a squeal was shouted directly into your ear and arms wrapped around you.

“What the hell--”

“Baby! I got in! They accepted me for Project WayV! I’m so excited!”

Your boyfriend’s eyes were gleaming with pure, unsaturated happiness. A smile melts onto your face and you envelope him in a embrace just as emotional as his. You had seen how hard Kun had been working for his goal. He would stay up nights on end studying and if he wasn’t studying, he would be assisting you in your projects. Sometimes he would stay at your house and you would do laundry, not forgetting to notice how the size of his uniform changed from an extra small, gradually transforming into a small and finally to a medium. If he wasn’t studying or helping you, he was training. Love filled you and contentment hugged every curve of your body. To say you were proud was an understatement. This had been everything Kun had craved for.

Would it be selfish, however, to hate the future? Yes, Kun had been working hard to become an astronaut but once summer becomes cool and sweltering, fiery red days fade, where would Kun stand? In the sky trapped in a box, gathering research for greedy scientists on the small earth below? Would you be alone once more as you were just a few months ago? Would you despise the blue, crystal region for stealing the one you loved the most?

Mustering all your strength possible into faking a grin, you exclaim, “I’m so proud of you dear, you deserve it!”

A piece of your soul chipped away from that moment and it became difficult to face the future. Kun would be gone. For a long time. The worst case scenario might arise and he might never come back.

You were never the villain in the story. Trying to delay Kun’s dream would make you the monster. No, you’re not the monster. Minoring in theatre in college helped you after all. Fake it till you make it, right?

If it meant you had to lose everything for Qian Kun, you would give everything in a flash.

Motivated, you labored away more than ever. Rarely ever leaving the station, you were hunched over and slaving over numerous tasks every day. A fool you would’ve been if you didn’t think Kun would notice. One thing could contest his love for the mystery of space and that thing was you. If his dear was feeling slowed down, he would pick you up and aid you.

“Let’s go get slushies.” He offered a hand out to you one late night, forehead covered in sweat from being stuck in a poorly air-conditioned room. You accepted his hand, letting him drag you on another summer adventure. Evil thoughts plagued your mind. Surely, this wouldn’t be the last trip?

The walk was mostly quiet, the only noise being made was when Kun nearly tripped over the curb.

(“How was I supposed to know that the curb was there!”

“By looking, sweetheart.”)

He bought you a cherry slushie, leaving him with a blueberry one. With syrupy hands, he grabbed yours and swang them between the two of you.

“Baby, can you enlighten me?”

Confused, “What’s up?”

Ah, Kun never fails to amaze you. He is simply too intelligent and observant for his own good.

“Are… you okay?”

“Nothing, precious.” A lie escapes you before you realize what you’re saying. Had you been so accustomed to lying that it slips out at this point?

Kun drags you to slow down, having you turn around and look at him. In the late summer evening with pink and orange mixing in the azure reflecting off his skin had your heart stop beating for a second. His plump pink lips were stained with blue and the sides of his hair were still wet from sweat. This picture perfect sight had you falling in love all over again. You wouldn’t see this scene again in an undetermined amount of time. If he went up to the beautiful atmosphere, how would you be able to hear his luscious voice? Could you bear to wake up every morning to a cold bed?

“Stop lying, (y/n).”

Another jump of faith this time more daring.

“I’m petrified.” You admit.

“Of what?” His voice is soft and gentle, so familiar and so heart-warming.

“The future.” A tear falls from your eye and you feebly laugh. Where had it come from? Soon, you were full-on bawling. Kun rushes to your side in an instant, shushing you and hugging you.

Moments in life make us want to pause, rewind, fast forward, and record. In one instant, you wanted to complete all four. You would pause to savor this exact act and scene in life. If you were ever feeling down, you could rewind and relive this moment over again. To fast forward was dangerous, but it would need to be done to see the future for the two of you, something to look forward to. Finally, recording every single happening in this one frame to remember one of the last moments before the sky took away Qian Kun, your space boy.

“Baby, I’m scared too.” He reveals, shakily and nervously. “I don’t want to lose you, dear god I would collapse if I lost you.”

You nod, not able to respond or form a corrhent sentence. He speaks for you.

“You’re my first and last. Without you in my life, I would be so lost. I wouldn’t even be on the project for WayV! You’re my beginning and my end and everything in between. If you say no, I won’t do it. I will deny the project. Of course, NASA will be pissed at me,” he laughs, trembling upon your skin, “but if it’s to make you smile once more, even if it was one last time, I’ll do it.”

Rejection dances on the tip of your tongue. To say yes and have Kun next to you every day and night sounded like a fairytale. Your dream would truly come alive, yet where would Kun’s dream fall? With a heart begging no, ‘please don’t leave me,’ your mind wins once more against a terrible, cruel decision.

“My space boy, you’re so foolish. You have to go up there. No if, ands, or buts. That is final.”

With tears streaming down both of your faces, he tilts your head up and kisses you with more passion than the first night he confessed. It was a battle of love and bitterness. Your tongues fought over dominance, wanting to show the other their passionate feelings.

With blue and red tongues mixing and leaving each other’s lips with purple, bruised lips, you two took the longer route home. You might’ve minored in theatre, but you weren’t sure if majoring would’ve helped you from seeing Kun’s sparkling, chocolate-colored eyes. The entire time felt like you were under a lie detector. Perhaps in some alternate universe, the two of you would’ve never expressed your doubts..

Fall knocked at your door quicker than you had anticipated. Trips to the convenience store dwindled and stops at either Kun’s dorm or your apartment became more popular. Time was ticking away slowly and the two of you tried to spend as much time together. With each fun, spectacular day came with a night full of depression. Kun’s time was slowly draining and his launch date snuck up on you. He would be in space for nine months, one of the longest trips done in recent years. It terrified you but it motivated you to work harder than before. For him.

So that he can come back safe.

October 15, the day that was another page to mark in history and another date to burn in your mind. Waking up in your cold, sad apartment had you crying before you had even stepped into the bathroom. Traces of Kun were left all around. His hoodies, draped over chairs, left a cut in your heart, piercing every vein in your body. Fate was cruel. What was more cruel than fate was free will. If you said pleaded to him to not leave you, he would be next to you right now in the scalding, hot shower, leaving butterfly kisses across your nape.

Today would be another performance; a test of your acting abilities. To fool everyone and make them believe that you were the happy, supportive partner. Your mind drifted away at your workstation, not paying much attention to the world around you. People noticed and caught on fast, offering a hand when you needed an errand run down to Mission Control or a speedy calculation.

Never did anyone say you were good at acting.

Dreadfully, you glanced at the clock and gulped. Take-off is in less than two hours and Kun wouldn’t be able to see anyone in due time. You rush around the building, asking superiors and juniors if they had seen the boy. Following directions from Head of Security, you rapped your fist against the waiting room door.

“Come in.” A soft, possibly tearful, voice whispered, just loud enough to hear on the other side of the door.

Opening the door and closing it gently, a hug greeted you from inside the room. Vanilla overwhelmed your sense and you melted in Kun’s arms, gripping onto him with a strong force.

“Love--” You begin but are cut off abruptly by Kun’s lips crashing into yours. A pattern forms and you both fall into the rhythm, quiet moans slipping from the sinful mouths of both. Kun had this amazing power to make you lose all train of thought when with him and you forgot every dreadful moment leading up to this point until he broke away.

“Where do I start?” He laughs anxiously, a hand pushing away the hair in his face. “God, I’ll miss you so fucking much. It hurts so much thinking about it.” Kun takes your hand, dragging it to his chest and letting you feel his heartbeat. His heart beats rapidly and you clench the protective suit.

“I’ll miss you more.” You murmur, planting kisses upon his neck. He pulls away and chuckles at your sour expression.

“Let me talk for once. Doll, I truly will miss you. I ran to the convenience store to print out every photo I had of you in my phone so I would have it on the trip.” He snickers, a tear falling from his eye and you reach out to wipe it away. If only you could erase every tear he’ll have after he’s gone.“It’ll be hard, but I’ll try to record every day without you so you can watch it once I’m back. You know I don’t like talking about myself, but I’m so afraid of this trip. It’s dangerous as hell and there might be so many complications. Believe me, this world will not take me away without seeing you one last time. Don’t worry, baby. I will be okay.”

You were whimpering at this point and huffed stiffly with each passing second. Everything you wanted to hear was coming out of Kun’s mouth, but knowing that he’ll be gone in just a few hours stings at your skin. He recognizes this and rubs your back, letting you live in this scene. After your weeping slowed down, he requested a wish, something so personal and hopeful.

“You’ll wait for me?”

With a pathetic giggle, “If you bring me back a star.” He bursts out in laughter, doubling over. Always so lighthearted.

“I love you.” He confesses, a sorrowful expression painting his face.

“I love you more, space boy.”

Words left unspoken stopped at your tongue. Kun wouldn’t know that he was your star that night.

And the nights before.

He was the star of your life.

--------------------------------

A cloud of white exhaust spreads over the sandy field and the whole of NASA erupts into joy. Many are hugging their friends, some are with their lovers. The cameras pan back to the crowd, bouncing around and cheering as the gigantic, white spacecraft launches itself into the sky. The launch was successful, no failures or any worries. You checked every single valve and bolt yourself, of course it would be perfect.

Watching through a glossy window, your hand touched where the earth met the sky. The more you stared into the abyss, the more you appreciated the beauty. It wasn’t a single shade of blue, no. The sky, your sky, mixed with all shades of baby blue and flecks of gold and white shimmered brightly. It was like if someone took a paintbrush and went over the canvas repeatedly until they ran out of paint. If this glistening azure sky was so gorgeous, how did the deep blues of space match up to this competitor?

The clouds earn the sky extra points but with images of stars from past years makes your heart flutter in amazement. Humankind has accomplished so much in such little time and you, scientists and creatives, are leading the battle for improvement. Kun is a pioneer to this philosophy. One of the most brilliant leaders.

All the pieces locked into place as you observed the last gusts of white sputter and disperse. The moon and its gravitational pull kept the earth from getting out of hand and too far away to connect. Kun was the moon and you were earth, constantly being pulled to Kun whenever you wanted to shut down and hide from everyone. The simile makes you smile and you peer up, a tear escaping your duct. Hopefully Kun is viewing you from the oh, so tiny aircraft.

--------------------------------

Kun eyes the tiny earth, still strapped in his seat but able to obtain a view. He wishfully sighs, a smile breaking out onto his face.

He prays that you know he’s looking down at you, dreaming of a time where you could see something just as beautiful as right now.

Ah, maybe not as beautiful as he thought. He still has you, waiting patiently for his return. Now, you are the most ethereal sight he has ever had the chance to look at.

As soon as he receives the green from Mission Control, he unbuckles himself and moves to the supply room, reaching for one of the cameras and moving to a relatively quiet spot. With a deep breath, Kun turns on the camera.

“Hi baby, it’s your favorite space boy. Welcome to space, day 0!”

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