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@stilesobryen
im so ready to be in a relationship so whenever the universe is ready hmu with a keeper
i posted this yesterday then today this cute boy held my hand and now he is sending me memes
Reblog for love
i reblogged this yesterday and my crush kissed me today
@shootingshidae
life update: i’m not saying this worked but something happened literally the day after i reblogged this
omg i reblogged this yesterday and today a cute girl messaged me and i’m 💖❣💟💕🌸💓😚💕
Anyone who reblogs this before 6:00 EST will get a silk, one of these:
Based off of their blog!
I’m changing it to 6:00 EST Feb. 15 because not many people reblogged it. If you reblog this version and you reblogged the previous one, you will get another silk.
im so ready to be in a relationship so whenever the universe is ready hmu with a keeper
i posted this yesterday then today this cute boy held my hand and now he is sending me memes
Reblog for love
i reblogged this yesterday and my crush kissed me today
@shootingshidae
life update: i’m not saying this worked but something happened literally the day after i reblogged this
omg i reblogged this yesterday and today a cute girl messaged me and i’m 💖❣💟💕🌸💓😚💕
indefinite hiatus
im taking a break from tumblr. i do not know if i will return.
@grandmascottlang @underoosstark @beautiful-holland @hamiltrin @a-singleboat @gab-spidey @ganseysblues @secretsweetscollectionblog , @trustfundparker , @starponywars , @wronglanemendes , @futzingclint , @starksparker @uselesspileofstressandsadness @fandoms-till-the-end-of-the-line
I think next thursday is gonna be the best day of my entire life tbh
reblog for next thursday to be the best day of your life
not risking it
I like how this post didn’t threaten me or my mother if I did not reblog…very wholesome. Have a great Thursday
I have a test. Not risking it
I’d like to put a reminder in this post that all you’re risking is a normal Thursday, and reblogging only gives you internal positive vibes. It’s a bit unsettling that any post that jokingly gives good luck is always interpreted as having an implicit threat. Your Thursday’s gonna be great. <3
sex | romance is dead
words: 3848
warnings: angst, suspense, cliffhangers, death, blood (i always put those warnings there, regardless of what is in the chapter since it’s the apocalypse (also i just don’t read my own works lol))
a/n: the wattpad version is on hiatus (working on chapter 10, no motivation though) but this version will make it to chapter 9 before stopping (unless i update it before then lol))
---
Present day - 2:55 pm.
"Aurora! Come back or these two are gonna kill me!" George screams as he runs. The two infected behind him increase their speed, and George is silently wishing he had his sledgehammer with him.
There's a house nearby, but George thinks that going in could possibly be a huge mistake, especially if the family that might live inside is infected. Although, the house could explain where these two came from. Other than that building, it's just clear, green pasture. In the distance, he can see the not-so-faint outline of the Appalachian Mountains.
He continues to sprint away, as fast as he can, but they seem to be faster than usual. They keep pace with him easily, and George realizes that this something similar to playing with their "food" as they chase him.
He feels a hand on his shoulder, a quick glance behind him telling him one of them caught up. He lifts his right leg and drives it through the infected's torso, and George is surprised by how light the person is; they fall off and crumple behind him, a few feet away.
Weakened is an understatement, news reporter guy, he thinks as the other one doesn't even glance at their fallen comrade. George feels like he can recognize the other infected, who is considerably shorter than him and has ginger hair. But he immediately shoves this feeling down, because if he recognizes the ginger, then he'd be torn apart by more guilt and that was the last thing he needed right now.
Turning his head to look front, he almost stops as he crashes through an apparition of James. Bloody hell, I really am going crazy, he thinks, feeling a slight wave of panic wash over him. His heart wrenches in his chest as he runs through an apparition of Levin. The only difference between this Levin and dream-Levin is that this Levin's head wasn't caved in.
If George had been more focused on the road, he would've noticed the glint of the sun on something shiny. He would've noticed the dot on the horizon that rapidly got larger, heading directly for him. Much to his luck, however, he notices this at the last second and dives aside as the car slams into the ginger behind him, sending the infected flying.
He goes to the car door, staring through the window to see a frazzled Aurora. She shoots him a glare as he gets inside, thankful for her intervention.
"Maybe, next time, honk or something so I know you're coming," George says. Aurora's glare hardens and becomes icy as she continues to aim it at him. He sees her hand stray to the duffel behind her, and he adds in a nervous tone, "b-but thank you for saving my life."
A satisfied smirk appears on her features as she says, "If you ever, ever sing that song again I will not hesitate to throw you out of the car then run you over."
"What made you come back?" George asks, tilting his head. "You seemed so annoyed that I honestly thought I was going to have to fend for myself."
Aurora doesn't respond immediately. She looks confused, as if she's wondering why she really came back. Finally, she answers. "Well, as insufferable as you are, I think surviving the apocalypse by myself would be rather lonely."
"So it's not because you're completely and irrevocably in love with me?"
"No, I think you were hoping I'd return because you are completely and irrevocably in love with me," Aurora retorts. George hopes she's joking, because that's the exact reason he was hoping for her return.
He laughs, in a way that he really wishes isn't awkward, and says, "Oh. Definitely, I'm definitely completely and irrevocably in love with you." His tone is full of noticeable sarcasm.
"It's obvious," Aurora replies, but her voice is serious. There's no hint of a light tone, of a joking tone, and George feels that familiar wave of panic about to wash over him.
The silence that follows this short conversation is stifling, and he feels like he's struggling to breathe. He doesn't really know why the aspect of Aurora knowing is causing such anxiety to rise in him, but he suspects it's because, while he does like her, he doesn't want to be alone. George knows from personal experience that emotions and affection towards another person has the capability of ruining everything, no matter how long he's known them.
It's happened to him once before.
"You know I was only hanging out with you because you seemed super lonely, right?"
The harsh, stinging words echo in his mind as he shakes his head rapidly, trying to dispel them from his memory.
Aurora gives him a slightly concerned side glance, but says nothing. The drive continues, but George notices that Aurora is slowing down. He looks to see where she's staring, and there's a swarm of infected ahead, surrounding something. Gunshots echo in the air.
"Do you think--" But before George can finish his sentence, Aurora has already grabbed a gun from the duffel and is heading toward the swarm. She stops a few feet away, holding the gun--that George recognizes as an M14--to her eye and pulling the trigger a few times. A few of the infected drop, and George hurries out of the car, grabbing his sledge hammer--which he straps over his back--and a random gun from the duffel. To his surprise, he had grabbed the TEC-9.
He runs over, holding the gun up. He frowns as he realizes it doesn't have a scope, but realizes that's not a problem as four of the infected look at him. He aims, trying his best to do it carefully, but before he knows it, one of the infected drop to all fours and launches themselves at him. He doesn't hesitate as he pulls the trigger, and one shot is all it takes to down them.
Aurora glances at him, a slight smile on her lips as she realizes he's joining the fight. He can practically feel the "good job for not being a coward" radiating off her, and he feels proud of himself. For once, he's not relying on Aurora.
Another gunshot echoes as George gets closer to the crowd, shooting at any infected that turn towards him. He's not keeping count, but he's sure that, if this was a video game that kept track of kills, he'd have more than Aurora.
The crowd begins to thin as whatever is inside of the circle, George, and Aurora kill more and more of the infected.
And then, there's the sharpest, most agonizing pain George has ever felt in his left forearm. He looks down to see a hole, the size of a bullet, and sways at the sight of the blood. Soon, his entire left arm is covered, and it takes everything he has not to faint. He's been shot, but by who?
He tries his best to ignore the pain, and instead focuses on shooting the rest of the infected. After a few more gunshots echo, there's dead bodies scattered everywhere and two people standing, each holding their gun in a defensive stance. George unconsciously covers his bullet wound with one hand.
Aurora's standing next to him, and all he can think is: When did she get here? The world begins to sway as his right hand drops from covering his wound, covered in red.
"Oh shit," he hears someone say before the world turns to black.
When he finally comes to, he can see three faces above him, one being Aurora and two being people he doesn't recognize. He notices he's lying down, and the pain in his arm has gotten duller.
One of the faces he doesn't recognize sports shoulder-length blondish brown locks. As the person looks down at George, he finds he can't really tell if they're male or female, so he decides it'd be better if he didn't assume. The other one, however, has shortish, brown, curly hair and a sharp jawline. George notes that he looks like he's holding a frog in his mouth, but he thinks this specific thought must be because he's half-delirious and on the ground.
"Hey pal, you good?" the one with the long hair asks. George sits up slowly, and, with the help of Aurora, gets to his feet. The male, who stands at 6'5, receives a bit of a shock when he towers over the long-haired one and the curly-haired male.
The two also seem a bit shocked by this, as the blonde one stumbles a bit, craning their head to look at George. They hold out their hand, smiling. "Hi. My name's Ariel."
"A...riel? Are you...?" George asks, hesitant, as he grips their hand firmly and shakes.
"Dude, man. I'm a dude," Ariel replies. After he drops George's hand, he adds, "Sick accent, by the way. Central London?"
George nods as the other one introduces himself. "My name's Nate," he says. His voice is smooth, in comparison to Ariel's light and hoppy one.
"I'm Aurora, and this is George," Aurora says, hopping in on the conversation before George can introduce himself and her. She whirls on George, her eyes blazing. "So. You got shot. I'm guessing you had to be all 'manly'--" she puts very aggressive air quotes around manly, "--and not tell anyone until you fainted? Are you seriously that dumb?"
George looks around him for support, but both Nate and Ariel have backed away to the car, pretending to be interested in the color it was painted--which was silver, so George could understand their interest.
"Well, I didn't mean not to tell you, I just thought it'd be best if I didn't tell you until we were no longer in harm's way," George says in a sheepish tone. This response must've been wrong as Aurora smacks him on the arm--his good one, at least.
She scowls and takes part of the oversized flannel she's wearing--which is George's--and rips it off, causing George's eyes to widen. "Hey, that was my favorite flannel--" he begins to say, but the glare from Aurora makes him shut up immediately.
"This is the apocalypse, George," Aurora says in a venomous tone. "You're lucky Nate has medical experience and was able to remove the bullet during the three hours in which you were unconscious." She takes the long strip of fabric and, forcing George to bend his arm, wraps it around his injured arm and shoulder like an arm sling. He doesn't really understand why she's doing so until she mutters something about 'the bullet broke your fucking arm and now I'm going to be stuck watching you for god knows how long'.
George looks over Aurora's head--which is easy, considering how he stands at 6'5--and smiles at Nate as a form of thanks. Nate nods stiffly, and George can't help but think about his previous thought about the male: he really is holding an animal inside his mouth.
Once Aurora finishes tending to him, she storms off, grumbling under her breath about how she's too young to baby a bunch of twenty year olds. Ariel walks over, watching her as she leaves.
"Isn't she gorgeous?" George asks, smiling, referring to Aurora.
"Yeah, she's pretty good looking," Ariel says. "But I'm gay, so she's all yours."
George nods, and soon Nate comes over. "You're welcome," he says, sounding a bit proud.
"Oh yeah, thanks for taking a bullet out of my arm, I guess."
Nate scowls at the 'I guess', probably finding George's 'thank you' inadequate and insincere. "You're lucky you only got hit by my Desert Eagle," he says in an annoyed tone, "because if you had gotten hit by Ariel's M1 Garand or your girlfriend's M14, you wouldn't have an arm left."
"Then thank you for shooting me with your Desert Eagle and not with the M1 Garand or M14," George responds, nodding firmly. "I'm guessing we've been here for a while, so we should probably get on the move."
As George talks, telling them that their goal is Tennessee, Ariel takes the Garand--which he had strapped to his back--and aims behind George. He pulls the trigger, and George can physically feel the bullet whiz by him and hears it make contact with something. Ariel smiles gleefully.
"That's right, you infected zombie fucker! Get fucked! No one messes with Ariel!" There's a manic grin on Ariel's face as he goes over to the body and starts jumping on it, causing blood to spurt everywhere.
"What the bloody hell, mate?" George asks, rubbing his neck where he felt the bullet whiz by. "You could've blown my head off!"
"Well, yeah, that was a risk," Ariel admits, before adding: "But I didn't, so..." He trails off, leaving that word in the air as he heads over to the car.
Nate and George follow, only far more slowly. "I'm sorry about him," Nate says simply.
"How'd you get stuck with him?"
"There was a horde chasing him, and he was running away, screaming 'Mommy, save me!'" Nate says, shrugging. "We had a car, but we had to ditch it a mile or so back because we were dumb and forgot to refill the gas."
"Oh, the person I was traveling with before Aurora, that happened to us too," George replies in a careless tone, before realizing his mistake.
"What happened to them?" Nate asks curiously. He tilts his head ever so slightly to the left.
"Freak accident with a sledgehammer," George says awkwardly, laughing a bit as he lies. "Yeah, her head got all caved in and nasty."
"Okay," Nate says in a 'sounds fake but okay' voice.
They finally reach the car, and the second George sits in the passenger seat, Aurora starts yelling again.
"You finally wake up, after three hours of us waiting, shooting down the occasional infected, and then decide to take twenty fucking years to get to the car?" Aurora asks, sounding extremely angry. "I swear, if you ever, ever, ever take that long to get to the car again, I'm ditching you. I've been waiting for twenty minutes."
"Oh no, it's a couples' spat," Ariel whispers, rather loudly, to Nate. Nate only sighs and shakes his head, seeming annoyed by Ariel's presence.
Aurora slams on the brakes, unknowingly hitting an infected. "We are not a couple! I would rather, honest to God, become infected than date him."
Nate scratches the back of his neck. "I don't know, man, all apocalyptic relationships in the movies start out that way."
"Is this the fucking movies?!" Aurora asks, her voice dangerously close to shouting territory.
"No, it's a book," Ariel whispers, almost imperceptibly.
"What'd you just say?" George asks, turning around to look at Ariel.
The blonde smiles awkwardly. "Nothing."
"Weird," Nate and George say at the same time, causing the two of them to laugh.
Aurora looks beyond irritated, and at some point, she threatens to kick Ariel out of the car because Ariel started singing Country Roads.
At another point, Ariel eagerly opens the duffel with all the guns, shifting through them. "Aw, yuck," he complains loudly, "there's no shotguns in here."
"Not a fan," George and Aurora say, synchronized. Instead of laughter, however, George cowers a bit as Aurora sends him the most venomous glare.
The car ride, from then on, continues in silence, until Aurora actually starts falling asleep at the wheel.
"Aurora, let's switch spots," George says after the third time it happens.
"No, no," she replies, yawning loudly, "I'm fine."
"Tree!" Ariel screeches, and this causes Aurora to wake up and spin the wheel fast, causing them to swerve around the tree.
"Okay, maybe someone else should drive."
Nate visibly blanches as Ariel dashes out of his seat and crawls into the driver's seat right after Aurora gets out. "Aw, yeah," he says, cracking his knuckles.
The second Aurora gets into the back and closes the door, Ariel slams on the gas, bringing the car to 100 mph in not nearly enough time. Thankfully, the road ahead is straight, or else George would be fearing for his life.
Ariel rolls down the windows and starts whooping loudly. "Yeah! This is awesome!"
"Ariel!" George shouts, trying to get his attention.
"What?!"
"You're not wearing a seatbelt!"
"Fuck you!"
This response causes George to look taken aback as he scowls. He swats at Ariel's arm, causing the male to release his hold on the gas pedal and close the car windows. "What was that for?"
"Being an asshole, I'd reckon," Nate says from the backseat. This causes Aurora to snicker.
George musters up all his energy and glares at Ariel. "Let Nate drive."
"He's not any better than me!"
"For what it counts, I think he'd be loads better than you," Aurora pipes up from the back. She sounds immensely less stressed, and George finds himself smiling before remembering to glare at Ariel.
"Fine," the blonde groans, gathering his long hair into a bun as he exits the car. He immediately re-enters the driver's side, smiling happily. "Guys, there's a house down there! We should camp there for the night."
"Dude, it's not even 6pm--" George begins, but Nate cuts him off.
"Ariel really likes his beds, dude," he says simply.
Aurora gasps at the word 'beds'. "Bed? I feel like I haven't slept in a bed in forever."
George frowns at her words. "Aurora, it's barely been three days since I rescued you."
"In the apocalypse, time feels so much longer," Ariels states, as though this was a fact and not his opinion.
"It really does," Aurora says wistfully. "Can we please go to the house?"
"Wait, why am I suddenly in charge? You were yelling at everyone for taking forever like, twenty minutes ago!" George exclaims, furrowing his brows in confusion.
"Oh right," Aurora says, laughing awkwardly. "I was just under stress, and then moving to the backseat, I'm suddenly not stressed, so I guess I forgot I was the leader. To the house, everybody!"
Nate claps and Ariel cheers, and the three of them immediately leave the car. This leaves George left to bring all their things, from the duffel with the guns in it to the backpack with his clothes and his sledgehammer. He sighs, sounding disappointed, and this surprises himself.
It's a bed, George, you haven't slept in a warm, cozy bed for a good two, maybe three weeks, his conscience tells him, and he feels defeated by his own logic. Lugging everything over to the house, which is more like a mansion, if anything, he manages to drag the duffels with the food and the guns in one hand until he practically collapses inside the main entrance.
Nate quickly rushes over to help him carry the things inside, and George asks, "Was it unlocked?"
"No, Ariel has a way with locks. I never bothered asking how he knows how to pick one, but I'm also not really concerned," the male replies. George feels a bit odd having to tilt his head down to look at Nate, but nods in understanding. "So, you and Aurora, huh?"
"As she said in the car, we're not dating, and I don't think we ever will be," George replies promptly. He doesn't want to talk about it, at least, not now. The last thing he needs is reliving the moment where Aurora confirmed, 100 percent, that she didn't want to, and would never, date him.
"She was stressed, man, as you said." Nate rubs his chin, as if stroking an invisible beard. George imitates his actions, feeling his beard and realizing it's gotten thicker and longer over the last few days. He frowns to himself as he has the sudden urge to shave it, his thoughts occupying his head as Nate continues to talk. "Her whole outlook on this might change by the time you guys get to Tennessee."
"You're not coming with us?" George asks, being snapped back to reality. "Why not?"
"Oh, did I make it sound like that?" Nate laughs a bit, shaking his head. "No, I know I'd love to accompany you guys and have some normal... company for a while, but I don't know what Ariel'll think. If you haven't noticed, he's a bit of a... wild card, for lack of better terms."
"Well, yeah, but that makes things interesting, doesn't it?" George asks, tilting his head a bit. This reminds Nate of a confused puppy, but before he can reply, Ariel barrels into the entrance.
"Guess what! This mansion has so much food and bedrooms! Aurora and I already killed, like, three infected and we're pretty sure that's how many lived here, since there's a picture on the fridge and there's only three people in said family," Ariel says, rapid-fire fast. "And there's a huge basement, with lots of TVs and computers and games! There's a Nintendo Switch, a WiiU, a PS4..."
George zones out as Ariel continues to talk about games. The last thing the black-haired male hears Ariel say is something about a game called 'Hearthstone' that Ariel had always wanted to play.
He's brought back to reality far too soon, in his taste, when Aurora comes downstairs and tells them that she's prepped the beds, but not to expect such treatment in the future, should they ever find another house, because she's "not your personal maid, you fucking idiots".
The line causes George to laugh a bit as he takes the sledgehammer and his backpack with him to the room Aurora assigned him. Once he steps inside he lets out a quiet gasp.
The ceiling is tall and vaulted, and painted a shiny white while the walls are a deep, navy blue. The bed, which is centered against the left wall and opposite a flatscreen TV that appears to have a Nintendo device of sorts hooked up to it, is a four-poster, king-sized canopy bed. The sheets on the bed are a pale gray, contrasting--and matching, at the same time--the walls of the room. There's a huge, soft rug that is a brilliant white, and George sends a compliment to the previous owners, thinking about how much time and effort it must've taken to keep it that color. There's three wall-length windows on one side of the room, on the wall adjacent to the bed, that have pitch-black curtains to block out sunlight. George, deciding it'd be better to have a fair mixture of both sunlight and darkness, closes two of the three curtains. On the opposite wall, next to the doorway to the room, lies a closet, probably full of clothes.
With some difficulty, he strips out of his jeans and tee and falls into bed. The bed is so soft, it feels like he's laying on a cloud. There's a sound of water rushing, and he figures it must be Aurora taking a shower or something.
As he closes his eyes to sleep, a low, audible groan resonates from the closet and red eyes flash through the slats of the closet door.
---
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i’m in the mood to do some requests, so please send some in!
my inbox~!
tagging some folks that might wanna send in a request (or two): @secretsweetscollectionblog , @starponywars , @underoosstark , @starksmile , @fandoms-till-the-end-of-the-line , @wronglanemendes , @parkerplexed , @futzingclint , @uselesspileofstressandsadness , @grandmascottlang , @starksparker , @ganseysblues
today is the only day you can reblog this ever
Found you 0-0 haha I know about this blog now (Abby)
gasp! my secrets, exposed! oh well now you know about my massive amount of thirst for dylan o’brien
quinque | romance is dead
words: 2486
warnings: country roads, blood, death, shirtless george is hot.
a/n: wattpad
---
Present day - 9:35 am.
"Thank you."
George smiles at her. "It's no problem. We gotta be here for each other during the apocalypse, right?" He laughs a bit. The female in front of him, whose face is streaked with lines of mascara, chuckles. The smile that had made its way to her features falls as she looks at his shirt.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I got makeup on your shirt."
He glances down, eyes widening slightly as he sees the smear of black on his white shirt. "Damn, do you know if laundry machines work during the apocalypse?" he asks, scratching the back of his head.
Aurora chuckles. "I'll get your backpack so you can change." She heads back to the car, and while she's rummaging in the back for his pack, George takes off his shirt, frowning.
The male was never much of a workout junkie. He considers himself lazy, but once he gets into a workout, he finds he has difficulty stopping because it's enjoyable. He has his fair share of muscles, and barely visible abs. His torso is toned as well.
As Aurora finds the bag and turns to George to give it him, her face reddens immediately and she almost drops it. She clears her throat, averting her eyes as she hands him the bag. "Here you go."
George, being George, doesn't notice her embarrassment and takes the backpack, smiling. "Thanks." He places it on the ground and bends over, searching through it for a new shirt. Aurora's staring at him, her face reddening by the second.
He finally finds one and stands up, his eyes meeting Aurora. "Were you staring?"
Her eyes widen in shock and she averts her gaze again, her voice sounding embarrassed as she speaks. "N-No. I wasn't. You think I'd stare at you? What is there to see?"
"Alright, Aurora, whatever you say," George says, laughing as he puts on his top. It's tighter than the one Aurora got makeup on; his muscles are visible through the thin fabric.
She huffs, crossing her arms. "You're an ass, you know that?"
"Yeah, the ass that just comforted you while you dealt with the strain of killing two people without hesitation, definitely."
A low groan sounds from behind George and he freezes. Aurora's eyes widen and she's looks like she's about to scream "Look out" when the male turns around him.
A familiar set of blonde hair greets him as Levin hobbles closer. George's eyes widen and he whispers, almost silently, "No, no, you were back in New York, how are you here?"
Levin's face twists into a grin as her red eyes gleam brightly. She advances toward George, who grabs his backpack and runs to the car. He doesn't hesitate as he grabs the sledgehammer from the back seat, holding it in a defensive position.
The blonde infected drops to all fours and launches herself at George, who brings the hammer down on her head with a sickening crack. He turns away from the sight of Levin with her head caved in, and gets in the car, his bright and joking mood from earlier gone. He doesn't wait for Aurora to put on her seatbelt as he shifts the car into drive, slamming on the gas. The vehicle bumps over something but George ignores it, becoming laser-focused on the road ahead.
The atmosphere inside the car is tense, and as George drives, he realizes he's been crying. Again.
Jeez, George, man up and be... manly in front of Aurora, his subconscious scolds him. A glance out of the corner of his eye tells him Aurora's watching him with a concerned look on her face.
He lifts one hand and wipes at his eyes. "I'm fine," he says, answering the question that hung, unasked, in the air.
"Did you know that girl?" she asks quietly. He doesn't answer, but he knows she knows. He knows she's observant, and that any regular person wouldn't have gotten such a reaction out of him.
He doesn't verbally answer, only nodding his head. Aurora places one hand on his shoulder. "I'm..." she pauses, appearing to think about what to say next. "I'm here for you, or whatever, I guess."
The nonchalant-ness of her tone, and the obvious attempt to make George smile, causes him to laugh a bit. "Thank you, or whatever, I guess."
His response, which had imitated her words, makes Aurora chuckle. The air in the car is no longer tense, but now happy and light. The two drive on, George occasionally glancing at Aurora, and Aurora occasionally glancing at George's arms.
At some point, the peaceful quiet is pierced by the sound of someone's stomach growling, and George can tell it's not himself. Aurora's face goes red, and once more, she avoids George's gaze.
"There's food in the orange duffel, if you want some. I think I tossed a can opener in there too," George says, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel. He hums a song to himself as Aurora turns in her seat, searching through the duffel for a can of food she'd like to eat. She decides on a can of chicken noodle, opening it with the can opener. She leans against the car seat, pulling out a utensil that had a spoon on one end and a fork on the other. Upon closer inspection, George could see that one side of the fork was ridged, acting as a knife.
The silence is occasionally punctured by sounds of Aurora sipping the cold soup. She tries her best to do so quietly, George can tell. After a while, he tires of the quiet atmosphere and asks, "Is it good?"
"Delicious," Aurora replies, "a bit cold but... I don't think I've had chicken noodle soup in years, actually."
George's eyes widen. "What, your mum never made it for you as a kid?"
Aurora laughs. "My mom was on her way to becoming one of the best doctors at Mass General." At the look of utter confusion on George's face, she adds, "It's the Massachusetts hospital. The doctors that had worked there were some of the best in the world. It's a shame to know that the East Coast has..." For lack of a better word, she goes with, "fallen."
"Yeah, well, according to the news, California's still up and kicking."
"You listened to the news? When?" Aurora sounds both shocked and angry that he had gone ahead and listened, despite her telling him he didn't need more stress.
"When you were asleep," he replies quietly.
Aurora gasps. "Obviously, I can no longer sleep, or you'll just put your mental health in danger."
George chuckles. "That's quite the conclusion you've jumped to. Might be the best conclusion yet."
"I'll have you know, correlation is causation. If I sleep, you listen to the news. If you listen to the news, your mental health deteriorates as you get stressed out by the rest of the world's problems. And if you get stressed out by their problems, you won't be able to focus on survival." As she says survival, she makes an upside-down U shape in the air with her hands.
"Survival is key," George agrees. He takes one hand off the wheel and strokes his beard, which has gotten thicker over the past two days. "You know, this whole disease could be viewed as Mother Nature getting pissed off at the human race for messing with natural selection."
Aurora sighs. "That's one way to think about it, I guess," she says, pausing briefly before adding, "If it's really extreme natural selection, I guess that makes us the perfect humans, right?"
"Definitely," George replies. Silence ensues.
Aurora finishes her soup, taking a napkin out of her bag and dries the spoon with it. At one point, George pulls the car over and switches places with her so he can catch a few Z's.
Every time he closes his eyes, however, images of Levin's caved-in head flashes behind closed eyelids. He can't stand it. He forces himself to keep his eyes open, he forces himself to fight the fatigue that's trying to close them.
Exhaustion is wearing at his bones, but he can't let himself succumb to sleep. If he succumbs to sleep, he'll see Levin, his first friend since the apocalypse began, and he'll see how he killed her. Just like how he killed George. Who's he going to kill next, his mother? Aurora?
Every so often, as the male fights off sleep, he swears he can see apparitions of Levin and James, just outside the car door, taunting him.
"Why'd you kill us, Georgie?"
He wants to curl up into a ball, he wants to cover his ears, he wants to make any attempt he can at shutting them out, but he knows he can't. If he does so, he'll alert Aurora to his troubles, and he doesn't want to do that. He can't do that, he can't lay his problems on her like he laid his problems on Levin.
"Stop relying on everyone, Georgie."
James is standing there, taunting him. With every movement that he makes, the knife that is half-buried in his chest wiggles slightly, as if on the verge of falling out.
"Come on, Georgie, grow up and be a man, won't you?" he asks, glaring daggers at his twin.
Levin steps into view, placing one hand right under the knife on James' chest and the other on his back. Her torso is pressed against James' arm, and she's also staring coldly at George, a look of pure contempt and hatred in her optics.
"Why would you kill me, George?" Unlike when she was alive, her voice in George's dream is considerably more Irish. "Why would you do that? I thought we were friends, George."
The black-haired male stumbles backwards, his eyes full of fear. "No, I didn't mean to! You attacked me, it was reflexive, I promise!" His own voice shocks him, sounding more British than ever. Ever since he and James moved to America, his own accent has begun to fade.
"We both know your reflexes are shit," Levin and James say at the same time, their voices sounding eerie as they talk. "Stop lying to yourself. You wanted us dead. You wanted to kill us."
"That's-- No, of course I didn't want you dead," George says, his voice cracking. His words come out strangled, as if he's choking on tears.
And suddenly, Aurora enters the scene. She's dressed in a long, white gown that's dirtied by a red stain that travels outwards. "How could you, George? You were supposed to protect me."
Slowly, more people flood into his field of view. His mother appears, tears streaming down her bloodied face. His father shows up, a gunshot wound just above his heart. As each person appears, George can feel his heart break a bit more.
"No, I didn't kill you all..." he whispers. He curls up into a ball, rocking back and forth. "I didn't kill you! I swear, I didn't kill you..."
"George," Aurora's voice says. "George, wake up."
And he's suddenly back in the world of the living, his eyes wide and red from tears.
"You were talking in your sleep again, George," Aurora whispers. George curses mentally. "Is everything alright?"
"Yeah," he says slowly. His accent, somehow, has become even thicker. Aurora raises a brow as she notices this, but says nothing. "I'm just... being haunted by the ghosts of the past, that's all."
"George, that encounter with the blonde lady happened less than two hours ago."
"It's still in the past," George mumbles. His face reddens. Why am I so weak? Those taunting voices fill his head again, and he can feel himself crumbling.
Weakling. Relying on Aurora. Stop being a baby. Grow up. Grow a pair. George furrows his brows in a vain attempt to block them out, to block out the harsh words, but it fails.
Aurora keeps one hand on the wheel as she places the other on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. "I don't think you should listen to the news anymore, alright? The last thing you need is an anxiety-related disorder in the middle of the apocalypse."
Those words. Levin said the exact same thing to him when he cried about killing James. Fresh tears flood his eyes, and Aurora looks taken aback. She doesn't remove her hand from his shoulder, though, and rubs circles through the fabric with her thumb.
It's this tiny motion, this consistent comfort, that calms him down. The feel of Aurora's touch on his shoulder reminds him of all his happy memories, from the first time he and James switched identities for a day to when he had gotten his college degree with James by his side. Memories from when he was young, building lego sets with his brother, to now, when he and Aurora shared that bittersweet hug that seemed so long ago.
A comfortable silence fills the car as they continue to drive on. George stares outside, watching as they drive by huge houses. "Where are we?" he asks.
"West Virginia, I believe," she replies. "I'm aiming to get to Tennessee."
George's response is almost reflexive, in a way. "Are you from Tennessee because you're the only ten I see."
"I am this close to taking a gun from the duffel and shoving it down your throat."
"Ah, glad we're back to our normal way of talking then."
Aurora's hand leaves George's shoulder as she laughs, shaking her head at the same time.
"Wait, did you say West Virginia?" George asks.
"Yes," Aurora says, before realizing her mistake. "Wait, no--"
"Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong! West Virginia, mountain mama, take me home, country roads!"
The black-haired male belts out the song lyrics at the top of his lungs, and Aurora actually has to roll down the windows so his singing will be drowned out by the air from outside.
"Almost heaven, West Virginia, Blueridge Mountains, Shenandoah River!"
"George, if you do not shut up--"
"Life is old here, older than the trees. Younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze! Country roads! Take me home! To the place I belong! West Virginia! Mountain mama! Take me home, country roads!"
Aurora sighs, and stops the car. "Get out, please."
"Why?"
"Please, just get out of the car."
George furrows his brows. "Alrighty, then."
The second he shuts the car door, the car speeds off. George stares after it, dumbfounded. Did Aurora just ditch him here?
He frowns, and is about to call after her when he hears a low groan behind him. He turns around to see two infected.
"Where the bloody hell are you all coming from?" he asks in an exasperated tone as he turns on his heel and begins running away.
"Aurora!" he screams. "Aurora, come back or these two are gonna kill me!"
---
@secretsweetscollectionblog , @starponywars , @underoosstark , @starksmile , @fandoms-till-the-end-of-the-line , @wronglanemendes , @parkerplexed , @futzingclint , @uselesspileofstressandsadness
quattuor | romance is dead
words: 3890
warnings: traumatic dreams / flashbacks, blood probably, death [idk i havent read ch. 4 in a while]
a/n: heres chapter 4! these arent getting many notes so i may just continue the series on wattpad, idk yet.
---
The next day - 1:05 am.
"Georgie, I can't believe you've done this," James says, gesturing to the knife in his chest. "How could you?"
George's eyes widen, and he reaches out to his brother. "I didn't mean to, Jamesie, you launched yourself at me--"
"Don't bullshit me, George. You've always wanted me gone, haven't you? You're the younger twin, the lesser twin."
"That's not true, and you know it! Just because you're on December 31st, 1993 and I was born on January 1st, 1994, doesn't mean I hate you, alright?"
James lets out a cold, shrill laugh. "Don't lie to yourself, Georgie." The dream-James' eyes suddenly turn red, and he pounces at George.
The male finds himself suddenly holding a gun, and he empties its magazine into James' chest.
James' corpse transforms into his mother's, and George feels his heart clench in his chest.
"No, no, I didn't mean to kill you, Mum, I'm sorry--"
The sudden stopping of the car wakes George up, and he blinks sleepily, rubbing his eyes. "Where are we?" The remnants of his dream are quickly fading from his mind. His hands come away wet from his eyes, telling him he was crying.
"In the middle of Maryland right now," Aurora responds. If she's noticed his crying, she makes no mention of it. George lifts his head and looks around, realizing she's stopped for gas.
Aurora seems at peace as she gets out of the car, the wind outside causing the oversized plaid shirt to flap around. Her hair whips around her face as she goes to fill the car with gas. A scowl places itself on her features as she gathers her hair behind her nape, making a pony-tail.
Within a few minutes, Aurora has removed the gas pump and placed herself back in the car. She continues to drive, and George can see a hint of fatigue in her optics.
"I can drive for a bit, if you wanna get some sleep," George says. His voice is husky from his nap, and he yawns while stretching in his seat.
"It's fine," Aurora states. "Sleep isn't what I need right now."
"You should sleep, because then, you'll have the energy to run away."
Aurora sighs, sounding annoyed. "You should go back to sleep before I smack you from how infuriating you are."
"Alright," George says, letting out another yawn as he resumes his original position. He falls asleep in an instant.
Hours later, he wakes up due to sunshine shining directly in his face. He squints his eyes as he opens them, quickly pulling the sun visor down. He lets out a sigh of relief since the visor successfully blocks the bright light.
"You were talking in your sleep," Aurora says when she realizes George has woken up. "Who's James?"
George is taken aback by this. One thought pops into his mind. Am I becoming a stereotypical main character in a novel? First I'm seeing things, and then talking in my sleep about James? "He was my twin."
"Was?"
"I... I had to kill him."
Aurora's only reply is a curt 'oh'. She leaves him to his thoughts in silence as she drives on. The male takes a deep breath, rolling the window down slightly to get some fresh air. The cool air outside chills him slightly, but he finds it enjoyable.
The two travel on in silence, and at one point, George turns on the radio. Instead of the usual music that the station plays, a voice is speaking in a grave tone.
"...catching the nation by surprise. Sources say that the disease has even spread to other countries, but there is no confirmation on this. Please tune in to learn how to best defend yourself from the looming epidemic..."
Aurora immediately shuts the radio off, a frown on her face. George gives her an incredulous look.
"What?" she asks, raising one brow as she continues to stare straight ahead.
"Don't you want to know what's going on with the world?" George whispers. "There's a possibility that this disease has gone overseas. Do you know what that means?"
"Yes, George, I know what it means. However, I think you've had enough stress for a month. You don't need more things to worry about."
"Are you being nice to me, Aurora?"
She scowls at the sarcasm in his voice. "I think shooting you would add to the stress on your plate but I'd still do it."
George falls silent, appearing slightly uncomfortable. The silence this time is slightly awkward, so he attempts to lighten the mood.
"You know, we might be the only uninfected people in the US," George begins.
"If you say something along the lines of 'we have to repopulate--'" Aurora starts, but George resumes, cutting her off.
"We might have to repopulate the US," he finishes. She shoots him a glare.
"I'm this close to shooting your dick off, George. This. Close." To prove her point, she takes one hand off the wheel and holds her fingers so close together that they look like they're touching, but they're not. "Try 'repopulating the US' then."
George finds himself crossing his legs, as if that'll help shield himself from Aurora's threat. The silence that looms over the car is filled with tension, and it slowly starts to drive George crazy.
"Knock knock," George pipes up after a bit.
"No."
"Boo."
"Stop, right now."
"Boohoo!!" He lets out an obnoxious amount of laughter, clutching his sides.
"I can not believe you find a joke a two year old might come up with that funny."
"I can not believe you aren't being nice to me after I saved your life," George replies, imitating Aurora. This causes the female to slam on the brakes, turn around, and pull out the Serbu from the duffel behind her seat. She aims it at George. "I-I was only kidding, I swear! Please don't shoot me!"
She places the gun back in the bag, and before she starts driving, she smacks George across the head. He frowns as the car goes into motion again, rubbing his temple. "Ow."
"You deserved that, wholeheartedly."
The silence returns, and George is getting tired of it. He goes to turn on the radio, but the poisonous glare Aurora sends him has him stop halfway and retreat. So he resorts to other methods of breaking the silence.
His first attempt is drumming his fingertips on the dashboard. It annoys Aurora so much that she smacks him again, making him cease his efforts immediately.
His second try is humming a song under his breath. Aurora actually joins in on this for a bit, until she states: "You're so off beat that I'm worried my ears will start bleeding," and this makes him shut up.
His third endeavor is letting out a low, long moan, one that sounds oddly sexual. This backfires immensely, as Aurora, once again, slams on the brakes, causing George to fly forward, restrained by his seatbelt, which leaves an angry red mark on his exposed him.
"What," Aurora says slowly, enunciating every word, "The. Actual. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With. You? Are you physically incapable of sitting in silence for more than two seconds?"
George can see the veins on her neck popping, which just adds to how scary she looks. There's a flame in her eyes, and not the kind of flame someone might have when talking about something they love. The edges of her face are turning red, and she's glaring at George with such an intensity he feels like he might catch fire at any second.
"Two seconds! That's all I ask for," Aurora shouts, "two seconds of pure, untouched silence! Is that too much? Too much to ask for from you, George?"
"I'm sorry," he whispers, resembling a 3 year old that just broke something expensive.
Aurora sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm sorry for lashing out at you. It's not your fault, you're bored. I'm at the limit of my patience with this apocalypse, I haven't slept, and I could really use a hot chocolate."
George doesn't respond, he only gets out of the car, walks around, and pulls the door open. "I think it's time I drive," he says quietly.
This time, she doesn't argue, and George suddenly notices the faint-but-definitely-there bags under her eyes. As she exits the driver's seat and he slides in, he begins adjusting the seat and mirrors. The sound of the car door closing besides him indicates that Aurora entered the car. So when he turns to look at her, he nearly jumps out of his seat.
In the spot where she should be sitting is Levin, her once-blue eyes completely red. He stares at her with a look of horror on his face.
"Is there something wrong?" Levin's lips move, but Aurora's voice echoes from them. George closes his eyes and shakes his head. He remains like that for a few seconds, his vision completely dark, before opening his eyes. Levin was gone, Aurora was sitting in her place.
"No, no, it's fine," George says in a shaky, unconvincing tone. He takes deep breaths, trying to calm his frayed nerves, before leaning back against the car seat and beginning to drive.
At some point, he takes a quick glance at Aurora to see she's fast asleep. The sunlight filtering in through the car window accentuates her cheekbones and makes her hair shine. He feels heat rising to his face as he thinks two words: She's gorgeous.
He whistles for a bit, making sure the sound doesn't wake Aurora, before turning on the radio, tuning it to the channel he usually listens to. The male reporter's voice floods through the speakers, albeit quietly as George turns down the volume, and fills the silent car.
"...the epidemic has overtaken most of the East Coast, and, sources confirm, London and Paris. Doctors are working fast to find a cure, but with the East Coast hospitals out of the running--some of the best in the world--the cure may take longer than expected."
His heart lurches in his chest as he hears the word 'London'. His mother lives on the outskirts of London, in an apartment building. He hasn't the slightest clue on whether or not she's ever moved from there, as he and James had moved to the US around the age of 22. He finds himself subconsciously praying that she's alive, that she's well and protected.
"Stores everywhere are being looted and emptied as more people come to the realization that the world may very well be ending." There's a sound of papers being shuffled as the male host pauses for a moment before continuing.
"I have here a list of confirmed symptoms prior to being completely overtaken by the disease, as well as a few surefire ways to kill anyone, should the moment require it.
"Symptoms include sweating, extreme fevers, feeling and becoming very weak, red-tinted eyes, and sensitivity to light."
Sensitivity to light. Those three words cause George to zone out temporarily and go back to the day his brother died.
James had been thrashing around in his bed, and his eyes hadn't opened until he was about to lunge at George. His brother had been showing all the confirmed symptoms, and, if this information had been out a few weeks prior, George reckons he might've been able to keep James alive, somehow.
He focuses back in on the present, listening intently to the radio.
"...gunshots to the head are the quickest and cleanest way to kill the infected, although just about any injury will do it. Despite being faster and physically stronger after the disease takes over, it seems they cannot handle heavy hits, as their bones are more fragile than a baby's.
"And now, for a list of those who are missing from the New York area. Sources can confirm that these people are uninfected but missing." George glances quickly at the radio before returning his focus to the road. He reaches his right hand to the volume knob, turning it up ever so slightly.
"Ariel Ferrick. Nate Gin. Carly Harris. Samara Jess." The list of names goes on and on, and George finds himself waiting, in particular, for the P's and W's.
"Aurora Piff." That's her name, the name of the woman sleeping peacefully beside him. There are a few more names after Aurora's, and the male reporter ends the list with: "And finally, now-cleared George Williams."
Now-cleared? He can feel his brows furrow in confusion. Was there any evidence at the shell of his and James' house that pointed the arson at him, and if there was, why's he 'now-cleared'? Is it possible that tests of James' body revealed the virus, and therefore made the law enforcement understand that his death was an act of self-defense?
And is it really arson if I'm burning my own house? George wonders as he continues to drive. The radio continues to babble on in the background, when a new voice makes itself known over the channel.
"Hi, I'm Jeannette, and I'm going to teach those who are listening to this channel how to make a molotov cocktail."
George finds himself turning the volume up a bit more, remembering the bottles of Scotch in his duffel bag.
"First, you're going to want a glass bottle of sorts--obviously--and a rag, and a lighter. Next, you're also going to want petrol or something similar, like paint thinner, and a flammable substance of some sort.
"The flammable substance I am using today is a bottle of beer. If the substance you have chosen is not in the bottle you have, place it inside the bottle. Then, mix some petrol with the substance inside the bottle, while also thoroughly dousing the rag with petrol as well.
"You may choose to add paint thinner or other flammable compounds to make the fire last longer. But that is all there is to a molotov.
"To use it, light the rag on fire and throw it. Upon impact, the bottle should shatter and spread the contents around, while the flaming rag lights the contents up. Should you require a molotov, I strongly suggest throwing it on an empty grass field, as that is the most effective terrain for it.
"Throwing it in a forest is just a dumb move."
George finds himself taking mental notes on the making of a molotov cocktail. He has a new appreciation for fire, as, not only did it erase his tracks, but it seems to be especially effective on the infected. Otherwise, why would the channel even host an expert to teach the listeners step by step on how to make one?
The radio show continues on, the host changing from Jeannette to the original male. He almost says, "Thank God," when the male reporter announces they'll be playing some music now.
He turns the volume down as the music begins, bobbing his head and drumming his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat. The song is a bop; it has a catchy beat and quality lyrics. He's unable to recognize who it's by or even take a guess at the name, but it doesn't matter to him.
"Then I tried to catch you, but we're always on the move. And now it's over, we're sober, symptoms of the culture, and the night ain't getting younger..."
George finds himself trying to mouth along to the lyrics and failing miserably when Aurora wakes up. Her nap wasn't very long, only two and a half hours, but she appears refreshed. She looks from George to the radio, a soft smile lighting up her features. Absolutely flawless, George thinks.
She hums along to the song, and he thinks she must be feeling better. As she nods her head to the rhythm, she uses her hands to redo her ponytail. She bends over a bit so that her hair frames her face and begins to gather it at the top of her head before pulling it into a ponytail. Upon straightening up, George has full sight of her face and smiles himself.
"You're in a better mood," he comments.
"I am a firm believer of 'music makes everything better,'" Aurora replies, that soft smile still adorning her features and making George's heart soft. "Besides, this is one of my favorite songs."
"Come over here, sit next to me, we can see where things go naturally. Just say the word, and I'll part the sea. Just come over here and sit next to me, and I'll take you high, high."
Aurora is mouthing along to the song, her lips matching every word with ease. She continues to nod her head, occasionally shaking her shoulders and waving her hands to the beat as she dances in her seat. But alas, all good things must come to an end, and so the song finishes and another one plays, this one being from a movie.
"Ladies and gents, this is the moment you've waited for. Been searching in the dark, your sweat soaking through the floor, and buried in your bones, there's an ache that you can't ignore. Taking your breath, stealing your mind, and all that is real was left behind."
George has heard this one countless times before, and he can honestly say he enjoys it. What shocks him, however, is how Aurora actually begins to sing along with the song, holding a fist up to her mouth as though she were singing into a microphone.
"Don't fight it, it's coming for you, running 'atcha. It's only this moment, don't care what comes after. Your fever dream, can't you see, getting closer. Just surrender 'cause you feel the feeling taking over."
Her eyes are closed and she's very into her pretend concert. George is so enraptured by it that he almost swerves off the road, and his sharp course adjustment causes Aurora to open her eyes and frown.
"Is everything alright?"
"Yeah, yeah, you're just so amazing at singing that I got distracted."
"You're going to give me lactose intolerance with your pick up lines," was her curt reply before she resumes her show, this time singing quietly under her breath. It's still loud enough for George to hear though.
"It's fire, it's freedom, it's flooding open. It's a preacher in the pulpit and you'll find devotion. There's something breaking at the brick of every wall, it's holding all that you know."
She takes ad eep inhale, as if preparing herself for an insane note that she has to reach. George knows exactly what part comes next; he knows the words too, so he joins in on the mini-concert.
"So, tell me, do you want to go? Where it's covered in all the colored lights, where the runaways are running the night? Impossible comes true, it's taking over you, oh, this is the greatest show!"
The two continue their jam fest as the song goes on. Once it ends, they both fall silent, and the car is filled with a song neither of them appear to recognize.
"I guess we struck gold, but only with the first two," Aurora says simply. She turns to look at George, who is focused on the road, and says, "Listen, I'm sorry about being crabby towards you before."
"Crabby is an understatement, but continue," George says simply. This earns him a swat on the arm.
"I was tired, and let me tell you, shooting someone for the first time really takes a toll on your body and mind. I really shouldn't've vented my anger out on you like that."
"My official occupation is emotional punching bag, so it's alright." Another swat on the arm.
Aurora scowls. "I'm trying to apologize! Can you handle that? Yes, this is me being nice. I can be perfectly kind when I want to be, but you're not really giving me a reason to do that, are you?"
"This is nice?" George asks incredulously. A third swat on the arm. "I don't think hitting people is nice." This time, the smack was aimed at his shoulder.
"Stop the car," Aurora demands, and he obeys. As his foot touches the brake and the car stops, Aurora grabs the gear shift and shifts it into park. She opens her car door, goes around, and opens the door behind the one to the driver's seat. She ruffles through the gun bag, pulling out an M14 and a box of ammo, before slamming the car doors shut and walking off. George furrows his brow and hurries to unbuckle his seatbelt. As he opens the car door, he practically falls out, landing on his hands and knees.
Aurora sees this and hides a snicker under her breath. She turns around and begins to walk again, when George calls out: "I'm sorry!"
"What was that?" she calls back, her voice holding a light joking air. "Couldn't hear you over the sound of my inability to be kind."
George catches up to her with a light jog before falling into pace alongside her. "I said I'm sorry for being sarcastic, you really can be nice when you want to be."
"When I want to be?" Aurora repeats, raising one brow.
"Fine, you're nice all the time."
"That's more like it." Another smile graces her features, and all George can think is, I've been blessed.
The female turns on her heel and looks like she's about to walk back to the car when she stops. "Shoot," she mutters.
She pulls the magazine out of the gun and checks it briefly, which causes George to furrow his brows until he realizes what the problem is. There's two infected hanging around the car and making their way towards them. They're dangerously close.
Aurora pushes the magazine back into place and holds the gun up to her eye, taking less than a second to aim before pulling the trigger. It seems she's unused to the recoil on this new gun, as she stumbles back a few steps before regaining her footing and aiming again. The two gunshots are so loud that George is certain they can be heard in the next state over, but he's unconcerned, remembering the male reporter's words.
"...the epidemic has overtaken most of the East Coast..."
He looks at Aurora, who has tears in her eyes. Her gaze is lingering on the two dead bodies near the car, and George can tell she's biting her lip in an attempt to prevent the waterworks from flowing. Without thinking, he pulls her into a hug.
He hasn't really thought about the height difference between them up until this very moment. He's tall enough to place his chin on the top of her head.
"What are you doing?" she asks in a quiet tone, as if to prevent her voice from potentially cracking.
"Comforting you," is George's short reply.
The gun falls from Aurora's grasp as she wraps her arms around George's midsection. He can feel her body shake as she begins to cry, and gently pats her back.
Her tears stain the front of his shirt, but he pays it no mind as he continues to pat her back and hold her in his embrace. After a few minutes, her sobs eventually turn to sniffles and she backs out of the hug.
"Thank you."
---
@secretsweetscollectionblog , @starponywars , @underoosstark , @starksmile , @fandoms-till-the-end-of-the-line , @wronglanemendes , @parkerplexed , @futzingclint , @uselesspileofstressandsadness
tribus | romance is dead
taglist form!words: 3651
warnings: death, shotguns, pew pew pew
a/n: this is another amazing moodboard @parkerplexed / @hollandbabesblog made for me??? why are you all so kind??? i will GLADLY ACCEPT ANY moodboards you send my way! or fanart! or complaints about how cruel i am to george!!! :D
unus ; duo ; wattpad
---
Present day - 12:45 pm.
"Oh my God," Aurora whispers. Her eyes widen, and George can see the abundance of fear in them.
Meanwhile, the male was still in denial. Did Levin just order his death? Did she lead the infected now? He wouldn't be shocked if she somehow did, he found her to be extremely powerful, with and without a gun.
"Drive, drive! What the hell are you waiting for?" Aurora shouts at him. Her voice's tints of British become stronger as she becomes more panicked.
George puts the car in reverse, flooring the gas pedal. He doesn't bother looking over his shoulder, and with a jolt, he realizes there must've been more infected behind them. There's a muted thump every few seconds, indicating that they ran over yet another person.
"This is horrible," Aurora mutters, shutting her eyes as George finally looks back, trying to weave between the people. Despite his efforts, he still runs some of them over.
And then, the engine sputters and coughs. George's eyes widen and he looks at the dashboard, his heart in his throat.
The car ran out of gas.
He glances at Aurora, then at her shoes. She's sporting small heels, something easy to walk in, but not easy to run in. She's staring at him, her eyes wide with fright and panic, and George feels a rush of adrenaline. He grabs the Winchester Model 70 and looks directly into her brown optics.
"Listen, we're gonna have to run. The car's out of gas and we're surrounded."
She nods shakily, taking off her shoes. George furrows his brows in confusion as he watches her open her purse, taking out a pair of sneakers.
"You can fit that in there?" he asks, appalled--and amazed--by the size of female handbags.
Aurora shoots him a glare, albeit weak, and he understands--not the time to joke. He grabs his backpack and duffel bag, flinching as an infected slams on his car door. Aurora's side remains clear.
"Go," George says in a scarily calm voice that surprises himself. He decides not to dwell on it.
How does it go in the movies? he asks himself, seeing Aurora exit the car from the corner of his eye. The infected are focused on him, and he hopes to keep it that way long enough for her to get far away, or to find help. Dropping the duffel and the Winch, he removes his backpack from his shoulders. He takes a deep breath, and his body acts of its own accord.
His hand grips the knife Levin gave him--it felt like ages ago, was it really only this morning?--and he slams the car door open, causing a few infected to go flying. Upon their impact, loud cracks echo, leading George to believe they're dead--which they are. He grips the knife so tight that his knuckles turn white.
Can't I catch a break? is the thought that echoes through his head as he hurls the knife at an oncoming infected. It comes in contact with a loud thump, and the person drops dead. George's heart lurches as he realizes it was a pregnant woman.
He doesn't let this feeling get the best of him as he runs over to the body, ripping the knife out of the woman's skull and holding it up, adopting a defensive stance. His front leg is slightly bent, on the tips of his toes, while his back leg is planted firmly on the ground. His hands are held up in front of his face, the edges of his elbows lining up just below his chest. The knife, which is now covered in fresh blood, is gripped tightly in his right hand.
And then he bursts into action.
He throws the knife at another infected, with so much force that it knocked them down as well as killed them. He doesn't bother to go retrieve it, instead, he ducks behind the open car door.
As two more approach him, he pulls the door close to him, making it form a forty-five degree angle with the rest of the car. Once the two were within distance, he kicks the car door at them, sending them soaring through the air. He slips inside the car, slamming the door shut, before inhaling deeply. Catching his breath, he opens his duffel, fishing through the bread to find cans of... cream of broccoli soup? Yuck. He grabs as many as he can, which is about ten cans--why did he have so many cans of cream of broccoli soup?--and holds onto them tightly.
More infected bang on the driver's side window, and George spares one hand to pull on the inner car handle, priming it to be kicked open. He turns in his seat, so that his feet are up and barely touching the car door, and sends all his strength at the door. It slams open, pinning two people between it and the car, and George throws himself out, landing heavily on the pavement below.
They begin converging in on him, on all four sides, and he inhales deeply before chucking one of the cans of soup at two of them. They're knocked out by the impact, and George comes to the conclusion that, while the disease makes them faster and stronger, it must weaken their bones and bodies altogether.
He uses the rest of the cans as weapons, throwing them in every direction, and felling one or two infected each time. Once he runs out of cans, he grabs his duffel, Winch, and backpack, slings both over one shoulder, closes the car door on one of the people--which breaks their back--and makes a run for it.
He can still see Aurora in the distance, her pace much slower than when she originally left the car. George starts at a sprint, which he immediately regrets, but slows to a jog relatively quickly. He regrets not having spent more time at the gym or on the treadmill as he runs.
It takes him a few minutes to catch up with Aurora, who's so out of breath and sweaty--or was it due to tears?--that her makeup forms long, black, watery lines down her face.
He places one hand on her shoulder as he approaches from behind, causing her to jump and reflexively hit him in the face with her purse. He lets out a low groan, covering his nose, as Aurora covers her mouth with her hands.
"Oh my, I'm so sorry," she whispers, shuffling through her purse for some tissues. Once found, she pulls them out and hands them to him. He takes them with a smile and presses them to his nose. His smile quickly fades as he realizes he has a nosebleed.
His mind flashes back to the day he first killed someone. James had launched at him after he had accidentally cut his finger with the knife, but not before James had whispered "blood" in a low, gravelly tone. George quickly stuffs two tissues up his nose, attempting to both block the flow and possible scent.
Aurora watches him with one brow cocked. "When I hit you with my purse, did you suddenly go crazy?" she asks in a cool tone.
"No, no, it's not that," he replies, standing up. The world sways a bit, but he rights himself. "I think the infected--or whatever you want to call them--are attracted to blood."
"And what made you come to that wondrous conclusion?"
George inhales deeply, blinking. When his eyes reopen, James is standing there, wearing a white shirt soaked with blood. George's eyes widen, and he stumbles backwards. He shuts his eyes and shakes his head, cracking one eyelid open to see that James had vanished. Aurora, meanwhile, is staring at him like he's crazy.
"My brother got infected, and he didn't attack me until after I had accidentally cut my finger with a knife. You see, he was really sick, so I was making him soup and the soup required minced onion and I cut myself cutting onions and then he tried to kill me so I accidentally stabbed him," George says, without taking a breath.
Aurora nods slowly, before patting him awkwardly on the shoulder. "I see. Anyways, we should probably formulate a plan to escape this hell alive."
"A plan? Why not just go with the flow?"
"Go with the flow? Did I hit you in the head that hard?" Aurora looks at him as if he's a new species of bird. "This is the apocalypse, good sir, and I will have you know, everyone dies in the movies because the plan they have formed was weak! Weak!" She takes a deep breath before straightening up, that dignified aura reemerging as she smooths down her shirt. "I think the first step in our plan should be discussing sleeping arrangements. Will we sleep on the ground? Will we try and find shelter? Someone will obviously have to stand guard, of course, but we can decide shifts when we decide what we're doing first--" She cuts herself off as George holds up his hand.
"We should probably start walking again, or they'll catch up to us."
She opens her mouth to speak, before closing it and nodding. "I was on my way back from a job interview when you... saved me, I suppose." She says those words as if they're poison, a frown on her lips. "I don't suppose you have a change of clothes? I don't think running away from the infected in a suit would be very practical."
George takes his backpack off, unzipping it to reveal neatly stacked clothes. "They're all guy sizes, though."
Aurora merely nods, taking the bag from him and searching through it. She pulls out a blue and black plaid button up and a pair of old jeans. When she sees George looking at her expectantly, she snaps at him, "Turn around! I'm not a stripper."
Feeling sheepish and slightly embarrassed, he obeys her and hums to himself as she changes. After she finishes, she proceeds to sling her purse over her shoulder and carry George's duffel bag down the road. The sight of her from behind, wearing his clothes, is enough to make the male fall a bit more for her, despite only knowing her for a few hours.
They walk on in silence, George covering his eyes every so often due to the bright sun, Aurora striding on forth with a dazzling radiance. Finally, George speaks: "So, are you single?"
The question seems to catch Aurora by surprise, as her eyes widen, before she retorts, "We're in the middle of the apocalypse, and you want to know if I'm single?"
"Is that a yes?"
The response he gets is an over-exaggerated eye roll. He decides to revel in the silence this time, gazing at Aurora with a kind expression on his face. He realizes she's a bit on the skinny side, and that, despite having a dignified and glorious manner to her, she doesn't look like she'd be able to harm anyone or anything, much less kill a person.
"It's impolite to stare," Aurora snaps, her tone brisk and unwelcoming.
"Is it rude if I'm staring at a piece of art?"
"Your pick up lines are crude and outdated."
Ouch.
Another harsh rebuke of his advances. George frowns slightly before plastering on another smile. He opens his mouth to speak, but Aurora raises her hand.
"D'you see that?" she asks, pointing off in the distance.
"See what?"
"The building over there," she states.
And, as they walk on for a bit, a short, squat building comes into focus. George is glad to see it; his feet ache from all the walking they've done. The building comes into sharper view the closer they get, and George can see a big sign hanging from the side of it, reading: "JACK'S GUN STORE".
"Do you reckon he's home?" George asks, stopping and staring at the door.
"There's only one way to find out, isn't there?" Aurora states, pacing towards the store with a renewed vigor.
George sticks close behind her, and upon arrival, gently pushes her behind him. As he opens the door, he can hear her mutter angrily under her breath about how she's 'not a princess' and 'doesn't need protection'.
The shop is void of life, but there are guns and boxes of ammo everywhere. Guns ranging in size from Taurus revolvers to M16s, and even bigger. Under each gun, there's a label with the brand and model, and sets of ammunition are stacked according to which gun they fit. George goes deeper into the shop, and reaches out to touch a gun, when Aurora suddenly yanks the Winchester from her hand, holds it up to her eye, and pulls the trigger.
The gunshot is deafening, and it takes a few moments for George to recover his hearing before he realizes what happened. An infected was in the shop--he assumes it must be the Jack that owns the store--and it was about to pounce on him, but Aurora shot it.
"What a woman," George whispers underneath his breath, looking at her in a whole new light. "You look amazing, you know that? You look super attractive holding that gun."
"One more word and I will not hesitate to shoot you next, George."
George's voice falls to a breathless whisper as he adds, "So hot."
This falls on deaf ears as Aurora tours the shop, taking care not to step on the dead person, before finding another duffel. "We should probably load up."
"Oh, yeah, good plan," George says, blinking rapidly and shaking himself out of his mini-daydream where he and Aurora were not in the middle of the apocalypse.
He wanders around the shop for a bit, finding more ammo for the Winch, which he takes to the front counter. Aurora has already chosen a few guns, one of which George recognizes as an AK-47.
"That's an AK-47," she says, pointing to the semi-automatic weapon, "that's a TEC-19, and that's a Serbu." She points to each corresponding gun. "I think they'd be worthy weapons, so I'm going to grab one more of each. Also, you should see if you can find another one of these--" she holds up the Winchester, "--because I love it."
Aurora doesn't wait for a reply as she goes back into the store, searching for more weapons. George only blinks, puts the Winch ammo down on the surface, and goes back to where he found the Winchester Model 70s, taking one off the rack. He places it at the counter before going back to find some more possible guns.
He's in one of the store's backrooms when he spots it: a gleaming sledgehammer, with a metal handle that appeared to be around three feet long. What's more, it had a case of sorts that would allow it to be strapped to his back. He couldn't say no, since picturing himself fighting with said sledgehammer made him look extremely badass. He grabs it, unsurprised at how heavy it is, takes off his backpack, and slings it over his shoulders before putting his backpack back on. Another glance around the room reveals bottles of scotch, which he hid in his backpack, and two shiny lighters. He snatches the lighters and pockets them, before exiting the backroom.
A few minutes later, he returns to the front to find Aurora with more guns and boxes of ammo, a few new models added into the mix. "That's a Beretta Cx4 Storm," Aurora says as George picks one of the new models, examining it. "Semi-automatic, quite lethal. And that's an Ingram MAC-10, it has quite the firing rate."
"Where did you learn all this stuff?" George asks, tilting his head slightly.
"I read the labels," she states bluntly.
"Oh."
A new silence persists as Aurora packs the guns into the duffel bag. After she does so, she takes out a box of labels--possibly from under the counter, as she's standing behind it--and starts writing down a model of one gun on each one, before peeling the labels off the paper and sticking them to different boxes of ammo.
"Smart," George comments, a smile on his lips. He had been wondering whether or not Aurora's a perfectionist, and with this system of organization, he now knew she is.
He stares at her hands while she organizes the bag, noticing her nails are painted a soft, pale lilac. They gleam in the light that drifts in from the window, and George can only think about how stunning Aurora is once more. He's captivated by her beauty, and it takes her sharply prodding him in the chest to snap him out of it.
"What's that on your back?"
"Oh, this? It's a sledgehammer. I thought it could be useful."
"What, are you going to name it Mjölnir and hope it will make you fly? You're not Thor, you know," Aurora says in a scalding tone.
George looks taken aback before he replies: "No, but I'd look super badass if I fought with it, don't you think?"
"Men," Aurora scoffs, "always obsessed with their masculinity and image." She zips up the duffel after she pulls out one of the guns and loads it. Hoisting the bag over her shoulder, she walks over to the door to the store.
"I can hold that if you want--"
"I'm not a weakling, George."
Ouch. "I didn't mean to imply that, I was just trying to be a gentleman. Clearly, you're not weak. You just saved me in there."
"Whatever you say, George." This response made it evident that Aurora isn't listening
George sighs, deciding to look anywhere but at Aurora, and in doing so, he spots a car parked next to Jack's Gun Store. "Wait, look."
He points to it. It's a relatively new looking Hyundai Elantra, and as he walks over, he sees that it's a 2018 model. "Damn. Imagine buying this and then becoming infected and never being able to drive it. Sad," George says. He tries the handle, finding it locked.
"I saw a car clicker inside, I'll go get it," Aurora says. She places the duffel at George's feet and, cocking the Serbu she's holding, heads inside. Within a few minutes, she re-emerges, holding a black clicker with silver buttons in her hand. She tests the 'unlock' button and smiles as the car doors unlock.
George moves to go to the driver's seat, but Aurora shoves him aside and sits behind the wheel first. "I'm driving."
He doesn't question it as he sits in the passenger side, dropping the duffel with food, his backpack, and the sledgehammer in the backseat, next to the gun bag.
She pulls out of the little side road where the Hyundai was parked and turns onto the street with ease. The drive is smooth, and Aurora seems pleased to report that the tank of gas is full, and that since she's driving, there wouldn't be any silly mistakes and they wouldn't run out of gas.
The sky darkens quickly as they drive, and the next thing George knows, it's nighttime. The road ahead of them is illuminated only by the car's headlights, which are on high beams. The male feels a bit uneasy, being on such a deserted road without any extra light.
After a few minutes of driving, George's paranoia begins to sink in. The shadows just beyond the edge of the light's reach look like they're flickering, and he can't help but squirm uncomfortably in his seat each time he thinks he sees a gleaming red pair of eyes in the darkness.
"Are you alright?" Aurora asks after he shifts in his seat for the third time.
George nods. "I'm just being a bit paranoid. It's pitch dark and you can't see beyond the headlights..."
"You better shut up before I hit you with your sledgehammer," Aurora suddenly says. "We don't need two paranoid people in the same car. Besides, we'll be on a highway soon, and there'll be lamps to light the way."
George takes a deep breath, trying to calm his fraying nerves, as he shrugs his shoulders. He rests one elbow on the car door, his fist supporting his head as he stares out the window. Exhaustion tugs at his eyes again, and the day's events replay in his mind.
Met Levin. Read Fifty Shades of Grey to Levin. Levin left car to defend. Levin got bitten. Drove away. Went to city. City outskirts full of infected people. Saved Aurora. Forgot to fill gas. Car died in the middle of a horde. Ran away. Found gun shop. Aurora shot infected gun shop owner. Called Aurora attractive. Aurora threatened to shoot. Looted store for guns and ammo. Found some Scotch. Found some lighters. Found a car. Now we're here.
His eyelids droop and he almost falls asleep when a face flashes past the window. He bolts upright, swearing that he just saw James, if only for a second, before remembering that his brother's dead. He resumes his original position, the tug of sleep having gone away briefly when he went alert.
"You can sleep. I've had a lot of caffeine today, so I should be able to drive for the rest of the night," Aurora says in the kindest tone he's heard her speak in.
"Where are we going?" he asks, sounding much like a small child.
"Well, currently, we're on the outskirts of New York, the state. I was thinking we head south, maybe the disease hasn't spread there, and possibly alert the Southern governments of the looming epidemic."
"You talk like you're writing a book," George replies, sounding extremely sleepy.
As he succumbs to sleep, he swears he can see a vibrant pair of red eyes in the dark. He tries to keep his eyes open, and after blinking once, the red eyes don't go away.
---
taglist: @secretsweetscollectionblog , @starponywars , @underoosstark , @starksmile , @fandoms-till-the-end-of-the-line , @wronglanemendes , @parkerplexed , @futzingclint
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gentle reminder that you’re incredible and you will get through any obstacles that come your way and you deserve all the love in the universe 💞💗💖 remember that i care about you and i hope you'll have a wonderful day ahead 🙆🏽
thank u myra
on today’s “What is George thinking about?” the topic is how much i fucking hate waking up at 6:25am to go to a fucking hellscape (school)
gentle reminder that you’re incredible and you will get through any obstacles that come your way and you deserve all the love in the universe 💞💗💖 remember that i care about you and i hope you'll have a wonderful day ahead 🙆🏽
awww u too myr! im gonna wake up at 5:15am tomorrow to bring my older brother home, so goodnight!
gentle reminder that you’re incredible and you will get through any obstacles that come your way and you deserve all the love in the universe 💞💗💖 remember that i care about you and i hope you'll have a wonderful day ahead 🙆🏽
you too, myr!!! ilysm i hope ur life goes super easy from now on
I love the url, Georgie!!
aaaaAAA THANK U i love it too B)
url change alert! from SCAMANDERIE to STILESOBRYEN
someone snatched stilesobrien but i think it looks cooler with a y sooooo
SB: @underoosstark @grandmascottlang @beautiful-holland @hamiltrin @a-singleboat @secretsweetscollectionblog @starponywars @starksmile @fandoms-till-the-end-of-the-line @wronglanemendes @parkerplexed @futzingclint @laufeyysons @trustfundparker @avvengres @starksparker @gab-spidey
