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imaginedisish · 5 years

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Noise Pollution (Colin Ritman x Reader) (Bandersnatch)

A/N: Heyyoooo. This took me waaayy too long to write lol. But, here it is!!! (It’s based on an anon request about present-day!colin being super into conspiracy theories, so he and the reader talk ab them. I kinda took it in a different, but similar direction) The title is based off of a Portugal the Man song. It’s a bop go listen. Ight it’s 12am where I’m at and I gotta wake up at 6 tomorrow so GN GUYS! Stefan fluff tomorrow...get ready :) (once again thank you for all the love xxxxxx)

Summary: Present-day!Colin and the reader meet after an English lecture at university, and they quickly hit things off. (lots of fluff...and getting high)

Warnings: Drug use, some language, pretty much it! oh FLUFFFFFF <3 (au)

Word Count: 1,857

Tick, tock, tick tock.

Time passed by slowly as you stared down the clock, waiting for the weekend to begin. You felt as though the longer you stared at hands, the slower the clock moved. English was your favorite class. It had to be, since you were an English major, but the week had felt so long. You needed to relax. You needed a break.

“Now can anyone tell me how Austen displays the separation and disconnect between class through Harriet and Emma’s relationship?” You professors asks, his eyes glossing over the bored class. He knows he’s losing the his student’s attention as the grasp of the weekend reaches into the minds of each individual student.

You look over at the blonde boy a few seats down from you, his feet resting on top of the empty chair in front of him as he clearly dies of disinterest. He adjusts the silver frames resting on the bridge of his nose, and rolls his eyes at the professor’s question.

“Mr, Ritman,” Your professor calls out, annoyed. The blonde boy’s eyes perk up. “You clearly have an opinion, care to take the floor?”

“Not really, mate. But thanks for asking.” The sarcasm in the boy’s voice is evident.

And inexplicably sexy, you think to yourself. Giggles drift throughout the classroom at his response, and you can’t help but smirk along with the rest of your peers.

“I want an answer, Ritman. Or else,” your professor pauses for dramatic effect, “I’m failing you for the remained of the semester.” The blonde boy rolls his eyes once again, and sits up appropriately in his seat.

“Emma is a know it all twat who thinks marrying off her less fortunate friend to some filthy rich wanker is going to solve all her problems,” the blonde boy quickly rambles. He then pauses, collecting his thoughts.

“Language, Mr. Ritman,” your professor reprimands.

Then he continues on. “Emma has independence due to her personal wealth. Harriets lacks the social status of Emma, therefore limiting her independence and choices in society, thus highlighting the unfair advantages of the upper class during the time period.” Everything he says is so nonchalant, yet so intelligent. The whole class is in awe of his statement.

The blonde boy has a brain, you think to yourself.

“And would you look at the time! Class dismissed!” The blonde boy stands as he says this, motioning for the rest of the class to stand as well. The room bursts into a booming laughter.

“Not so fast, everyone. Your Jane Austen test will be on Monday. Prepare yourselves accordingly,” Your professor says finally, as your peers rush out of the lecture hall and into the arms of the weekend.

Unlike your classmates, you take your time getting your things together. You carefully place your laptop in your bag, then throwing your heavy backpack over your shoulders. You begin to walk down the stairs.

“I like your shirt,” You hear from behind you. The voice is familiar. You turn around.

Blonde boy.

“Th-thanks,” you stutter, caught off guard by his compliment.

“The Strokes are a brilliant band. Julian Casablancas fucking shreds,” The blonde boy smirks, looking down at your shirt.

“Yeah, they really are,” you say, smiling, starting to feel much more confident.

“Colin, Colin Ritman,” Blonde boy says, extending a hand out towards you. You accept the gesture, putting your hand in his.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” You say to him, he nods in response, pulling his hand away from yours.

“Well, (Y/N), what else do you listen to?” Colin questions, walking ahead of you. You catch up to him.

“Oh, well I love David Bowie!” You exclaim, a smile plastered on your face. David Bowie really got you going, you loved that man and all his music.

“He’s a pretty amazing guy,” Colin says, opening the door for you. You two walk out of the bland lecture hall. “You ever listen to Arcade Fire? They worked with Bowie a couple years back.”

“Yes! I absolutely love them! Bowie produced their Reflektor album,” You say back, your smile growing by the second.

You two continue to walk around the hallways of the building, talking about bands like LCD Soundsystem, Arctic Monkeys, Nirvana, The Beatles, and your shared loved for new wave.

“Look I know we just met and I’m probably just some cocky bloke to you, but would you wanna,” Colin pauses, tensing up, scratching the back of his neck, “hangout or something? We can go back to my place.” Butterflies flutter around your stomach excitedly.

“I’d love that,” You say, and Colin grins and relaxes. You two walk side by side, your arm occasionally brushing against his. You two talk the entire way to his flat.

“So what made you chose to be an English major?” Colin asks, arching a brow in your direction.

“I love literature. I hope to be an author some day,” You say back to him. He smiles at you, admiring your passion. “What about you?”

“For fun, quite honestly. I’m a video game programmer and designer,” Colin answers. “I work for an up and coming company called Tuckersoft.”

“That’s amazing!” You’re awestruck. He was so intelligent, so witty, so ambitious, so attractive. His blonde hair was practically translucent in the sunlight. His blue eyes shimmered, collecting rays from the sun as if it was what they were created to do.

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest. You had always admired Colin from afar in class, but now you two were actually interacting. There was something special about him, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

You two walked a short way more before stopping in front of a tall high rise.

“This is the place,” Colin says. You two head inside, and up to his floor.

His apartment was spotless, something you didn’t expect at all. He seemed like a slacker. Everything had an organized, designated place. It was gorgeous, modern, clean lines and vibrant colors everywhere.

“Your apartment is beautiful.” You walk over to a large bookshelf, searching through Colin’s extensive collection. Fahrenheit 451, The Great Gatsby, Richard III, The Scarlet Letter, Crime and Punishment, and many more classics adorn his wide range of novels. He even had some collections of Sylvia Plath’s poetry, which happened to be your very favorite. You select one, and skim through carefully.

On the top of the bookshelf is Colin’s record collection. He had everything from The Beatles, to Radiohead, to Queen, to Lou Reed, to Arcade Fire, and more. It was the biggest collection you had ever seen.

“Quick question,” Colin asks. You hear a lighter click behind you. “Do you smoke?” A joint rests in between Colin’s index finger and thumb. You nod. Colin smiles, and lights the joint. He plops himself down on the couch, and puts the blunt precariously in between his lips, inhaling deeply. He motions for you to sit down next to him.

You sit next to him, Colin passes you the joint. You part your lips, carefully placing the joint in the gap you created. You inhale slowly, relaxing into your high.

“Want some music?” Colin asks, his eyes now slightly bloodshot.

“Play some Beatles,” you say, allowing your eyes to fall closed.

“Good call,” Colin responds, standing up, and walking over to his bookshelf. You open your eyes to see which record he selects. You watch as he picks up The White Album, and you can’t help but giggle lightly. “What’s so funny? The White Album isn’t good enough?”

“No, it’s just,” you laugh heavily now, taking another hit from the joint, “Paul is dead. You know, Revolution 9?” Colin joins in and giggles with you, creating a chorus of laughter.

“I love conspiracy theories,” Collin says, setting up the record, placing the needle on the now spinning vinyl. Back in the USSR starts up, and you hum in pleasure. Colin sits back down next to you, and you pass the joint back to him. “Wanna shotgun?”

You’re taken back for a moment, and Colin could tell. “If you aren’t comfortable we don’t have to do that, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to make you feel-,”

“No,” you giggle. “I was just shocked that you finally asked, I didn’t think you were going to.”

Colin smiles and nods, taking a big hit from the blunt. He leans into you, and presses his lips against yours. You part your lips, and Colin does the same, blowing the smoke into your mouth. You suck it in carefully, and he presses another kiss against your lips before pulling away.

“How was that, love?” Colin coos.

“Perfect,” You whisper back.

You two continue to talk through the entire first side of the record, practically ignoring the fact that it’s on.

“What if we’re living in some simulation, (Y/N),” Colin says, bringing up the topic of conspiracy theories yet again. He adjusts his glasses as he awaits your answer.

“I mean if we play games like The Sims, someone has to be playing us in some universe, right?” You state, matter of factly.

“That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time!” Colin practically shouts, his excited state making you giggle. “Free will is a construct, so is time. It’s all consumerist bullshit. Noise pollution, ya know? All talk, no real proof of any existence or truth.”

“That whole “time” thing you just said, it isn’t even a theory, it’s a fact,” You state confidently.

“Exactly. Society forces time upon us. It’s used to keep us in line, you know?” You nod, agreeing with him as he rambled on.

After a while, you feel your eyes begin to grow heavy. You rest your head against Colin’s chest. You two had stopped talking about conspiracy theories, and he switched the record from The White Album to Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me by The Cure as per your request. You didn’t want to have to hear Revolution 9, and Colin thought it was adorable that you were so scared of a song.

You two just sit there, resting on the couch, taking your newfound relationship in. You listen to Colin’s heart beat heavily in his chest. Every now and then he takes a deep breath, the sound making your stomach somersault.

“Hey Colin?” You call out, as if you don’t know where he is.

“Yeah, (Y/N)?” Colin replies.

“I think I’m in like with you,” You say, laughing and closing your eyes. Colin suddenly brings a hand up to the nape of your neck, and he begins to play with your hair. His free arm wraps around you, keeping you pressed against his body.

“I think I’m in like with you too, (Y/N),” Colin purrs. “You wanna stay over? We don’t have to do anything, we can just keep doing this.”

“I’d like that a lot,” You say back, looking up at Colin, a wide smile stretching across his face.

You two stayed there, in Colin’s apartment, together, all weekend, free from “the noise pollution” of the “consumerist lies” of the London streets below.

It was the beginning of something beautiful.

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americas-new-bride-to-be · 5 years

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In Perpetuum Et Unum Diem | Roger Taylor | Part II

(I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF)

In Perpetuum Et Unum Diem = Forever And a Day

Pairing: Roger Taylor(70s) x Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut later on (Soulmate!AU)

Rating: M(mostly) and T at some point

Word count: 4.3k

Warning: Do not read if you are easily triggered by angst, heartbreak, depression, alcohol use, smoking, sex, suicide etc.

This series is set in current time and in the 70s but all will be explained.

A/N: Please review, leave some feedback, heart it(if you like it of course xD), and if you read it, thank you so much. Hope you enjoy.

“Before you find your soulmate, you must first discover your soul.” – Charles F. Glassman

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV (soon) |

July 16th, 1972

It was a quiet and warm Sunday morning in London. The sun was just poking its head out, brightening up the new day with its warmth, the night before disappearing, as if it was never there. All that could be heard was the creaking of doors as people started their day. Some were walking down the street on their way to the shops, some were sipping their morning coffee out on the balcony, enjoying the beautiful day. You could see an elderly couple inside their longtime home, bickering about breakfast but their faces shone with love and adoration, their old dog pulling his head from the carpet, his ears perked up as if listening in on their banter. It was an ordinary but still beautiful day, for most people. While some were enjoying their day, others were cursing the sun for being so bright.

In bed lay a messy-haired blond, next to his side a pretty dark-haired woman, cuddled up into his chest. The sight looked almost sweet and caring. A young couple in love, oblivious to the world as they slept in each other's arms soundly. But that was far from the truth. The sight could’ve fooled anyone and the feeling of the situation had already played a trick on the girl. In her dreams, she could already see countless dates and secret kisses shared in the back of the room, away from prying eyes, just the two of them enjoying each other. The boy, however, hadn’t even thought twice about any possibility of a future shared with the girl, as he carefully slipped out of her bed, his eyes barely open, looking around the room.

“Fuck me! Rule number one: do not stay over a woman's house until morning. The easiest bloody thing to remember you wanker!” Roger spoke to himself, searching for his shirt and jeans, hoping he can get out of there before the groupie wakes up. He cursed himself as he hit the vanity mirror with his knee before looking back at the girl, sighing in relief seeing her still fast asleep. Slowly but surely, Roger found his discarded clothes, hurriedly putting them on and without looking back, speed-walked out of the girls flat like his tail was on fire.

Roger Taylor’s most mornings were quite similar to this one. After a night out with his mates, when he’s had enough alcohol, he’d find a girl, didn’t matter what she looked like, as long as she was fawning over him and he’d sweet talk her through the night until they ended up at her place, tangled up in the sheets, with their naked bodies colliding in a fun and, most of the time, good night of sex. After the sex was over, Roger would slip out of her bed, put his clothes back on and with a pleased but indifferent look on his face, walk out the door as if nothing big happened only a few short minutes ago. And nothing big happened, for him anyway. The twenty-three-year-old lived life as free as one could be. He didn’t belong to anyone and no one belonged to him and that was the way he wanted it and liked it. He would chuckle at people who were desperate to settle down and find that ‘right person’, as they would say; their soulmate. The mere thought of that ridiculous concept made Roger want to hysterically laugh. He didn’t see the alluring factor of spending one's life with solely one person, nor did he believe that a perfect person for him, or anyone for that matter, existed. It seemed childish and boring if he was being honest. So he never cared to look for his ‘soulmate’ because he was happy with the way things were, or at least he thought he was.

______

“I’m telling you, darling, she’s the love of my life. My soulmate!” Freddie’s loud voice boomed in the studio as he gushed over Mary, his girlfriend, gesturing outwards as he spoke to Brian and John who smiled at him, glad he’s found himself ‘the one’. Roger just rolled his eyes, his hangover still fresh, Freddie’s voice piercing through his ears making his head throb even more.

“I honestly can’t wait to meet mine.” John pitched in, the look on his face a dead give away of his mind creating scenarios about his, Roger thought, non-existent soulmate. Brian also started talking about the idiotic concept, making Roger more irritated by the minute. When he realised he couldn’t listen to the nonsense any longer, Roger stood up from the sofa, his feet taking him to his drum kit before he started banging on the drums to cancel out the other three.

After about five minutes of aggressively banging on the drums, his drumstick broke in half, one half flying to the side almost hitting Freddie in the face. Roger cursed as he stopped playing, his eyes glaring at the broken half of the drumstick still tightly clenched in his fist. “Oh fuck off.” He spoke still glaring at the drumstick which made Freddie snicker at him.

Roger looked up, his eyes angry as he met Freddie’s amused face. “What’s so funny Fred?” the blond asked, his voice very much filled with irritation, making Freddie shake his head before patting Roger on the back.

“Don’t worry darling. You’ll find your own Mary, just like I did.” Freddie’s words made Roger brush his hand aside as he stood up, rolling his eyes so much, one would think they’d stay like that.

“I don’t need ‘my own Marry’, Fred. You’re all acting like lovesick children. It makes me sick.” Sarcasm laced in his voice, but his words didn’t hurt Freddie as Freddie looked at him like he knew Roger better than the man knew himself.

“I’ll be telling you ‘I told you so’ before you know it, Rog.” Freddie said with a wink before he picked up the other half of the drumstick, chuckling.

“That was a nice beat, Roger. But for the life of me, darling, what did the drum kit and those poor drumsticks ever do to you?” He asked dramatically, Roger already coming up with a snarky remark but Brian beat him to it, speaking up.

“They’re soulmates, aren’t they? Drum kit, drumsticks? One can’t go without the other.” That comment made all three men laugh as Roger mimicked Brian with overexaggerating gestures, only making them laugh louder.

“Oh sod off!” Roger bit back, sitting back on the sofa, his mind pushing back any wavering thought on the subject.

________

July 22nd 2018

A week has gone by since your pitiful emotional breakdown and things weren’t getting much better if you were being honest with yourself. First, you got a cold from sitting in the rain that night which meant you couldn’t go to work, which meant you had more time to think and that was the last thing you wanted to do as of late. Second, for the past week, everywhere you went, whether it was to the shop or your parents’ house, you kept hearing the same damn song all around you. It has gone so far that, two days ago while inside your car, the moment you turned on the radio the same words came through the speakers making you want to scream in frustrations as you turned off the radio and that’s when you were absolutely sure you’ve gone completely mad. You could still hear the song with the radio off, the words clear as day in your ears, the voice slightly raspy as they sang the painful lines of an unfamiliar song.

‘Why don't you take another little piece of my soul Why don't you shape it and shake it 'Til you're really in control...’

You knew it was far from normal to hear voices in your head but hearing music and singing were on a whole new level of insanity. A whole damn orchestra inside your head was really a sign that you were losing screws from your head faster than you anticipated. I mean, you knew you were somewhat neurotic and not quite there all of the time but a concert in your head surprised even you.

‘Hey, maybe I can’t find my soulmate but I sure as hell know how to create music out of thin air.’

‘That’s some skill if I do say so myself.’

‘Oh look, mum, I’ve made it. I’m crazier than an elephant on LSD.’

‘How does an elephant even act whilst on LSD?’

‘Oh sod off!’

‘What’s so funny, Fred?’

‘...The easiest bloody thing to remember you wanker.’

You suddenly sat frozen in your car that day, realising the last few thoughts had nothing to do with what you were even thinking about, a mans voice talking in your head.

‘You’re all acting like lovesick children’

“Oh God, I’m going insane.” You spoke out loud shaking your head, most likely looking like a mad woman, which by all accounts you probably were, to anyone passing by your car. Soon it was all quiet again around you and inside your mind. You sighed as you got out of your car that day, pushing whatever happened to the back of your mind.

If all that wasn’t enough, your youngest sister, that was four years younger than you, making her twenty-two was engaged to be married in a few months. With her getting settled down, you were the only one in your family without marriage or even a relationship on the horizon. You could tell your parents were disappointed as much as they were concerned about ‘your situation’, as they liked to call it. They kept urging you to go out, meet people and continue searching for your perfect match, which only made you feel even more like a failure.

“Mum, honestly, I’m fine. I’m happy Rosie is getting married and I know you want the same for me, but I’m perfectly content with what I’ve already got.” You spoke up as your mother kept suggesting you places to go to meet men. You saw she was about to protest again so you cut her off, desperately trying to convince her, and yourself, that you really were content with your life.

“I have an amazing job, great parents and siblings and friends that are practically family.” You smiled telling a half-truth, that was the best you could do. You did have an amazing family and great friends, that wasn’t a lie and that was...good enough.

“I know sweetie but I really think-”

“I’m also getting a cat!” You cut her off excitedly, your fake smile so big your cheeks started to hurt. Your mother turned to look at you, her eyebrow raised in an ‘are you joking’ kinda manner, the judgement very much present on her face making you roll your eyes.

“A cat?”

“A cat.” You confirmed.

“A cat- oh dear God, I- Joseph your daughter wants to buy a cat instead of finding her soulmate. Come here and tell her how ridiculous she’s being!” Your mother shouted for you dad and before you knew it, he walked into the living room, a confused look on his face. ‘Oh no, not this again’ you thought to yourself as you felt your dad sit next to you his face telling you he’s getting ready to give you one of his famous grand life lessons that you really didn’t want to hear again.

“Sweetie, I know it isn’t easy but your mother is right. Just think about how great it could be if you found that one-”

“Okay, I’m leaving, really gotta get out of here. I can’t listen to this any longer!” You abruptly stood up, your bag slung across your shoulder as you moved toward the door.

“Honey please just-”

“Just nothing! Stop! Just stop it already!” You turned around, your voice loud and sharp, your eyes burning with angry tears. “I can’t take this anymore! I get it, I’m a disappointment in your eyes but I’m done looking so stop hoping and pestering me about how great it could be or should be because it won’t be! Please just let it bloody be already.”

By this point, the back of your hand was rubbing at your eyes as the stinging of tears became too much to take. Your parents stood shellshocked before your mother extended her arm to comfort you but you stepped back, shaking your head.

“Just- I’m going. Thanks for the tea.” You whispered, your head hung low as you walked out the door and into your car, your head hitting the wheel as you sighed, trying to take a breath, feeling your chest twisting, your ribs feeling like they’re pushing up against your lungs preventing you from taking a deep breath. You clutched your chest with shaking hands, trying your best to calm yourself down as you felt like you were drowning with no one there to help you out but yourself.

‘Okay, Y/N, calm down. Everything’s alright, just breathe. Just keep breathing.’

You told yourself as you felt pure panic in your bones, spreading throughout your entire body, but you tried to ignore it as much as possible, your shaky hands starting your car as you drove off, wanting nothing more than to just disappear from this place, right then and there.

__________________

July 22nd 1972

“Oh fuck, baby, you feel so good!” Roger muttered, his eyes closed, hands gripping a girl's hips, who’s name slipped from his mind right after she introduced herself. He felt the girl shift, her lips meeting his neck harshly biting, sucking before her mouth met his ear, her annoyingly high pitched voice whispering.

“Vicky was right, you are better than Brian...and bigger.” She seductively spoke, her teeth tugging at his earlobe. Roger had no idea who this girl named Vicky was nor did he care if he was being frank. All he knew was that she was talking way too much and, he realised, the last name he wanted to hear during a shag was Brian.

“Don’t talk sweetheart.” Roger hissed out between groans of pleasure, flipping them over so he was on top, his hips thrusting hard and fast, shutting the girl up in seconds, nothing but moans, curse words and his name coming from her lips making him smirk, his mouth wrapping itself over the girls nipple, his teeth biting down until a slight bruise appeared.

“Oh God yes, keep going, right there...” The girls' voice faded slowly, his thrusts seeming to slow down, his eyes slowly fluttering open as he felt his chest tightening making it difficult for him to breathe. He looked at the girl below him, as black spots appeared in his vision. Roger frowned, his head falling on the girl's shoulder while he tried to ignore the feeling in his lungs and chest.

‘I know I said I’d like to die during sex, but I meant mind-numbingly good sex, not during average sex’ Roger thought to himself, his movements becoming messy as his head became fuzzy.

‘Okay...Everything’s alright, just breathe. Just keep breathing.’

Roger heard a voice speak, his head moving to the side as he looked down at the girl.

“I thought I said- I said not to talk, fuck, too much.” Roger barely got the words out, his lungs feeling like they’re being ripped out of his torso. The girl seemed to ignore him as she chased her high below him but Roger barely took notice, not even bothering to finish himself before he rolled off her, his hand gripping the side of the bed, his chest rising and falling fast as he desperately tried to catch his breath.

The girl giggled, her hand moving down his stomach, gripping his dick, pumping slowly as she whispered.

“Oh baby, did I exhaust you that much? That’s alright, I’ll help you out.” She spoke amused and if this situation was any different, Roger would make her regret her patronising tone in the most mind-blowing way possible but at this point, his brain was too clouded to think straight. This feeling wasn’t going away so before anything else could happen, Roger stopped her hand movements, tightly wrapping his hand around her wrist before speaking through his teeth, jaw clenched.

“Get. Out.” His words made the girl frowned but before she could speak up he pushed her to the side, almost pushing her off the bed completely, making her yelp in surprise.

“You really are a piece of trash Roger Taylor!” The girl’s voice boomed as she gathered her things and stepped out of the room, but Roger could barely comprehend what was going on, let alone give a damn about the girl’s feelings, his entire body feeling like it was on fire, in the worst way possible. Rogers body shook from pain or lack of oxygen, he wasn’t even sure by this point.

Slowly, after what felt like an eternity, his breathing went back to normal, his body numb and tired. Roger was too tired to move much as his eyes fluttered closed, a strange sight appearing behind his closed eyes before he drifted off.

Grey bloodshot eyes filled with tears as they stared right into his blue ones.

______________

“Rough night, huh?” Brian’s voice spoke making Roger groan in frustration, his body feeling like a damn truck hit him...and then came back just to make sure it broke every bone in his body.

“Shut up Brian.” Roger spoke into the pillow making Brian laugh before he felt something hard hit him on the head. Roger hissed in pain, lifting his head up just to come face to face with Brian’s clogs. His sharp gaze met Brian’s amused one as he threw the clogs back, missing Brian’s crotch by inches.

“What did you do that for?” Roger sat up his voice rough as he rubbed the back of his head, pretty done with life for today.

“It’s 2pm Taylor and this is my flat. Get up, Casanova, we have an album to record.” Brian said before walking away but not before he could see Roger flipping him off.

“Just once I want to sleep till 5pm. Why is that too much to ask?!” Roger growled in frustration, putting his clothes on before walking over to the mirror, seeing that he did, indeed looked like a truck ran him over. ‘What the hell happened to me last night?’ He thought to himself before Brian’s voice snapped him back to reality.

“If you took your groupies back to yours, we wouldn’t be having this problem, now would we?”

“Fred’s being difficult about it. Says I sleep around too much. As if there’s such a thing as ‘too much’ when it comes to sex. Plus it’s better if they don’t know where I live, better safe than sorry.” Roger huffed sitting down at the bar in Brian’s kitchen, taking Brian’s tea from him, sipping it nonchalantly. He heard Bri clear his throat, looking at him with his hands on his hips.

“A: There is such a thing as too much sex and coincidently, you, Roger, are the prime example of that and B: that is my tea. Go make your own.” Brian said, taking his tea back but Roger didn’t care, his head falling onto the counter, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I had the worst shag in my life, last night. Thought I was a goner for a second.” Roger said in frustration making Brian chuckle in amusement.

“That bad, huh? I thought she was quite good actually.” Brian said which made Roger snicker, his eyes looking to Brian.

“At least one of you thought it was good.” He said under his breath but Brian heard him anyway.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing at all.”

“No, no, What did you just say?” Brian asked again, his eyebrows furrowed as he waited for Roger to answer him. Roger chuckled putting his hands up in surrender, the smug look never leaving his face.

“Just that she said I was better, by far.” Brian’s eyes widened before he composed himself, his eyebrow raised.

“Didn’t know you talk about me while shagging someone. Oh, don’t I feel special.” Brian said with a wink making Roger laugh.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Roger remarked as grey eyes flashed before him, reminding him of last night. “Seriously though, I thought I was dying last night. Could barely breathe. I thought I was bloody suffocating. And before you say it, no, it wasn’t because she was that good. I don’t know what the hell happened last night.” Brian looked at him oddly before grabbing his keys off the counter.

“Maybe your soulmate knew what you were up to and cockblocked you with a voodoo doll?”

“Oh piss off.” Roger said with a chuckle before following Brian out the door, hurrying off to the studio. Roger hoped work would help him take his mind off last nights events and those sad grey eyes imprinted into his memory. All throughout the day, Roger’s mind was filled with an eerie, odd feeling, like something wasn’t quite right but luckily as night came around, the alcohol and countless girls took his mind off his troubles, like they were never even there in the first place.

Narrators P.O.V

The girl with the sad grey eyes, buried below the blankets, alone, fighting an inner battle, her turmoil killing her slowly. And the boy with empty blue eyes, buried inside another, to him, nameless woman, ignoring his own gut feeling telling him something was changing, not liking change and this unknown feeling, the boy pushed it all to the side, trying to lose himself in another person. Neither of them knew about the other. They’ve never met or spoken to each other and they maybe never will. These things didn’t happen often, the universe creating two halves of a soul that fit together perfectly but were not fated to actually be together. But, as it is, no one and nothing is completely perfect, not even destiny and fate. The last time a mistake like this occurred, it ended in tragedy, as it was, the universe put one half of a soul inside a Capulet child and the other half of a soul created from the same golden thread put inside a Montague child, sealing their fate, their destiny being created soon after. The consequence of that mistake? Tragedy and death. Made for each other yet not meant to be. At least that grand mistake brought two hate-filled families together in the end, this mistake, however, is too wrong to have anything good come out of it in the end. The grey-eyed girl and the blue-eyed boy was a story that not even destiny foresaw coming. A story which wouldn’t become grand like Romeo and Juliet, or Vronsky and Anna, or even Faust and Helena. Because this girl and boy couldn’t fight for their love. How can you fight for something you don’t even know exists? They were worlds apart. Skies apart. But most importantly, timelines apart. Yet as destiny looked down upon the two, one in the 21st century and the other in the 20th century, two halves of a single soul, both subconsciously sensing, knowing, feeling and seeing the other, destiny couldn’t help but wonder; What if?

“Mistakes like these can’t be mended or fixed, you know that brother.” A voice spoke behind the angel of Destiny. There, outside of space and time, stood the angel of Fate reading destinies mind.

“I am inevitable. Unchangeable. Written in stone.” Fate said calmly, looking at the two subjects of the current conversation.

“That’s very true my dear sister, but I am not.” Destiny said as Fate stepped closer looking at the two more carefully.

“Last time this happened, no one could stop the inevitable, stop fate.”

“The destiny and fate of these two people are not identical to the ones that came before them, you see that my dear sister, don’t you?” Destiny spoke and Fate agreed.

“I am unchangeable, but you, Destiny is relative, balanced on a razor blade. If you do this, the smallest action could create a domino effect, changing history as they know it.” Fate spoke as countless different destinies ran across time and space, Fates gaze falling to the blue-eyed man and three of his friends. Four people that changed history because how things happened. Because certain things didn’t come to pass. Because the universe made that mistake. Changing that was risky and dangerous.

“I am aware of the consequences, sister. But I also know what lies inside their hearts, their souls. If there’s a possibility to undo part of this mistake, it should be done.” Destiny’s voice spoke, confident, unwavering. Fate hummed and looked into Destinies eyes.

“Some mistakes, however, are simply Fate, in which case, an attempt at changing it will be futile. It shall not come to pass if I am correct.” Fate replied back calmly, waiting for Destiny to decide.

“And if you are not correct?” At that, Fate hummed, knowing what has to and will happen.

“Very well. Let us begin.”

_______

Meanwhile, back on earth, the two unsuspecting experiment subjects of Fate and Destiny, both lie awake in their beds, both unaware just how special and unique, in different ways, of course, both of them are. As midnight came and passed, the world asleep, unmoving, something shifted in the centre of the earth, it signalled a change coming. A change no one knew about and neither of the two anticipated. And for the first time in some time, both the grey-eyed girl as well as the blue-eyed boy fell asleep completely at ease, completely ignorant to the calm before the storm.

“It is done. In one weeks time, it will happen.” Fate said looking at Destiny who hummed with approval.

“Indeed.”

_____

A/N: Damn, the Fate and Destiny conversation was absolutely unplanned. My brain works in mysterious ways at 6am. Or maybe it’s from watching too much Supernatural, who knows. Please review(positive, negative), comment and like(if you think it’s good of course). Thanks for reading. Fingers crossed this gets some attention. haha. Anyway, bye darlings. x Anita.

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