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peeterparkr · 4 years

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perennial;tom holland|eight.

chapter eight: forget-me-not

↳ flower meaning: memories, a connection that endures all challenges and measure of time.

chapter summary: of Rome and other memories

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: angsty, fluffy, Chris Evans, mentions of sex, flashbacks in italics, this will hurt.

word count: 8.5k

SOCIAL MEDIA BEFORE THE CHAPTER:

masterlist & profiles seven: in which people remember a certain date is coming

previous chapter next chapter perennial masterlist.

perfidy ( series masterlist)

wanna be tagged?

Surprise bitches! Tags aren’t working so yeah. Sorry for posting late. I have been incredibly busy and I took a break from everything, so yeah, tell me what you think, please reblog, and leave a comment. Feedback is appreacitated.

THANK YOU TO @laurieteddy FOR THE FEEDBACK I LOVE YOU EMMA!!!!

It felt like a lifetime ago now, and she desperately was trying to get over it. The last time she’d fallen in love. She’d only fallen twice, if she was honest, but she missed that feeling. That initial feeling of splendour and the butterflies in your stomach as it hits you, the whole: there’s no going back now.

Of course, with Tom she was in a deeper feeling now, it was weird. As if now she would have to go back to where she had paused. Did she like that?

She loved it, of course, erasing all the stress and issues they had to talk about, she loved looking into his eyes and feeling like the whole world around her didn’t matter.

She couldn’t shut her mind all morning after he’d left. The fact that it had gone too fast and it didn’t matter and how she wanted to continue it. But how the adrenaline and lust had taken over her, making her forget she was hurt, and then her mind saying that she wasn’t supposed to be because it was her who wrote the damn script and didn’t tell him. She was the one who was wrong in this situation. Or…

It's weird, of course. But she wanted to feel that way again. The moment when she realized she was in love. Or fall back in love with him because it seemed that wherever they were doing wasn’t… love. Like of course they loved each other but it felt more like a kind of homework they’d have to follow. It was the kind of love that she feared of having, the kind of love that leads to doom.

It was funny, the actual moment she had realized it, she was in love with him. Yes, she knew she was in love, she acknowledged she had feelings for him, that is, she knew she loved him and she knew she’d blush when he was around and find little ways to bother him just to have his attention. But it wasn’t the same.

She remembered the exact moment she knew she was deeply in love with him. No going back now. Maybe it wasn’t the time she realized she was in love, maybe that had come earlier but it was the moment she realized she’d love him until her last breath. The fact that she knew she’d never ever get over him. Back in Rome.

Y/N always tried to avoid talking about Rome. It hurt too much to think they could’ve had it all back then. It hurt too much to think about the events after Rome, that is, that pink skirt whom y/n actually knew now by the name of Hally Aimee. Hally Aimee who was friends with Emma, and who y/n had always avoided. Hally Aimee, pink skirt.

But it didn’t matter now, not for whatever her mind was going to.

Before the meeting, y/n had been quiet. She didn’t get why she couldn’t listen to anything, so she didn’t have to worry about anything, but her mind kept going back to Tom and how the feelings they were fighting for barely made sense. And why she was scared of what they had now.

While discussing the script, her mind went back to Rome. And it hadn’t gone there in a while, because she usually thought about Hally Aimee and her pink skirt.

She went back to Rome, to when Harry had informed y/n Tom was in Rome, and y/n had said she’d avoid him at all costs. There was barely any possibility of seeing each other. However, on his very first night, he had called her up:

“Hello, y/n,” Tom sounded excited and y/n was sure he was about to mock her.

“Thomas,” she answered with less excitement as she currently had her storyboard scattered all around her room, several empty mugs of coffee and tea hiding in every corner.

“I’m in Rome,” he stated, as if waiting for y/n to gasp or be a little surprised.

She wasn’t. “What did this poor city do to deserve you?”

“Oh come on,” he chuckled.

“That’s why they were rushing us to go home, they knew the plague had arrived,” she stated with a smirk and smugly enough for him to notice.

“You’re such an idiot,” he answered.

“What do you want?” She asked to her biggest enemy.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” He asked shyly.

“I was working on some homework but honestly I’m not able to focus,” she admitted.

“I was going to propose something,” he trailed off.

“No,” she answered simply.

“You didn’t even hear what I wanted to say,” he pointed out.

She coughed. “Do I want to?”

“Let’s get you out,” he said. “Someone told me about this club you’ll like.”

She hesitated. “But—Who says I want to go out with you?”

“And I don’t want to go out with you either y/n, we can avoid any talking.”

She didn’t want to go out with him. She hated him. He was his enemy. She didn’t have to.

“Fine,” she agreed. Because she needed a break, well deserved one. And he had kept his promise, they barely had talked. They’d danced, sang along with some other people, but not talked.

However, between drunken laughs, and in search of drunken food, they ended up in a corner pizza shop, open all night.

Neither of them spoke Italian, however y/n had learned a few words to get her by, but she was tipsy, so she barely knew what she had ordered for them.

“What did you even get us?” Tom questioned

“Yes,” she giggled, as she leaned against him.

“Easy,” he chuckled, helping her get steady. “What did you order? I literally heard like ten thousand words.”

“Yes?”

“Yes?” He laughed.

“I don’t know what I ordered.”

“You’re so dumb,” he laughed, he was drunk too.

She chuckled. “In my defense your stupidity is contagious.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is it now?”

“Very.”

They dined a pizza that probably had been the best meal they had ever had, that is until the street hot dogs in New York. Y/N wondered if Tom had swept that memory of them like she had. For her Rome… simply didn’t exist. So horrible how they had cursed cities by just being there. Rome, New York, London, would Los Angeles join them?

“What is up with you and Harry?” Tom asked.

Y/n looked up, conflicted. “My best friend Harry? Your brother Harry?”

“No, Harry Styles.”

“Oh—Well we—“

“Yes, Harry my brother, dumbass,” Tom laughed.

She chuckled. “Ah.”

“Wait, you had an answer for Harry Styles?” Tom questioned.

“Yeah,” she chuckled.

“No, wait—but Harry?” Tom brought back the conversation. “My brother.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t know. Before she’d left she was sure she had feelings for Harry and she was sure she’d gotten over Tom. Then—it just… she was confused.

“Y/N?”

“I—don’t know where your question is coming from,” she said. “He’s my best friend, is that what you’re asking?”

She knew where the question had come from. But she didn’t want to acknowledge it.

Thought she was very confused, he hadn’t been an asshole once in his life, he was…nice.

Rome though, seemed like a memory of the two of them being alone at night, laughing, always laughing and… holding hands eventually. Walking through the endless streets full of art and history, always at night, under the moonlight, seeing each other through different eyes. Having no one to judge them if they weren’t going after each other’s throats.

Telling stories, sharing secrets. Tom and y/n. When they were alone.

There had been multiple occasions when y/n had expected him to kiss her, he had leaned over just once but then he had set apart, not even brushing her lips. However, y/n guessed now, Rome had brought them what they had now, the whispering, the subtle jokes and the constant eye contact. Always so mesmerized by those pair of chocolate eyes that had her completely foolishly infatuated. Not ever caring about the other ones in the room.

Y/N knew she had been in love with him for a while, she’d known it since right after one time when she was 14, right when he was about to leave to film. Something very stupid had happened. So natural, something had made him laugh, and he had thrown his stupid head back and made both him and y/n to fall of their chairs, instead of being angry, they’d turned to each other and kept laughing, synchronizing their laughs, like asong.

That’s when y/n had first known it, she was deeply in love with him. So stupidly simple. But...then in Rome, it was like she’d finally awaken every feeling towards him. And she remembered that night after being out and after him helping her study, how they’d both ended up so tired, but laughing again. Maybe it had been his laugh, and the way it merged with hers, or maybe it had been the conversation that hadn’t let the butterflies go away.

In Rome, he’d shown her that he wasn’t that bad as he always seemed to be. Sharing morning coffees, holding hands. Both of them sitting in that restaurant on the chairs that didn’t quite sit well on the pavement. Him telling jokes, brushing her hand. Exploring the city that had so much to offer to them.

Hours and hours of fun. Laughing, synchronizing their laugh. And she remembered that one very night, when Tom had looked at her as if he’d go blind the very next day. They had walked near an outside theatre, y/n remembered hearing people clapping, but the sound fainted, she could only hear Tom’s laughs.

She remembered wearing a dress, one she’d given to him in the box. It was a different dress from what she usually liked to wear, a satin pink dress. It felt like a fairytale. As if they were searching for their destiny, or maybe it was the city and that was playing with their feelings. The moon cascading with the lights and reflecting against the shiny and wet pavement, /n was shaking as she could still listen to her clattering heels. They had seen a couple making out against a wall, and they’d just ignored it. Tom had been joking all night, making sure her cheeks hurt from smiling that much. It was very real.

They’d walked through a bridge, and y/n remembered how incredibly cliché it had seemed. A guy in the middle of the bridge serenading the night, as if adding the perfect music to Tom and y/n who barely tried to acknowledge how perfect the night seemed.

“It’s a beautiful night,” y/n had pointed out.

“Quite lovely,” he agreed. “It’s quite romantic, innit?”

She chuckled. “Two bad we are the ones enjoying it.”

Tom laughed. “Yeah, it’s a shame that it’s a pair of mortal enemies enjoying this evening.”

“That other couple behind,” y/n said. “They were enjoying it.”

He shrugged. “I’m enjoying it, too.”

She didn’t know what to answer to that, but she knew now that if she’d thought she was over him, she definitely wasn’t now.

Tom was walking slightly ahead of her.

“I genuinely think I’ll end up marrying Chris Evans,” y/n said, only half joking, continuing their previous conversation.

“What?” He chuckled, turning around but continuing his pace. “He’s not your type,” Tom pointed out.

“He’s everybody’s type, shut up,” she chuckled. “But he’s my soulmate.”

Tom nudged her. “Is he now?”

She grinned. “Yes.”

“Hm, I’ve never heard you speak about that kind of stuff,” he admitted as he took her hand in his and played with her fingers.

She watched him curiously. “What stuff?”

“Love and that kind of crap,” he said.

“And that kind of crap,” she mocked.

“Yes,” he stretched out his arm, y/n walked her fingers through it.

“I mean I just said Chris Evans is my soulmate,” she laughed.

“Yeah but I’ve never heard you use that word, you don’t talk that kind of crap,” he grinned.

“Well I do think about that kind of crap from time to time,” she admitted.

He frowned. “You don’t seem type to.”

“Really? I’m super romantic,” she giggled.

It was ironic, even.

“You’re not,” Tom pointed out. So ironic, how they were playing with each other’s hands, the night tailor-made for romance.

“I am. But not your type of romance,” she grinned as she looked at him.

He frowned with a snicker. “My type of romance?” He asked, finally walking by her side.

“You’re too… predictable and basic,” she snapped.

He widened his eyes. “I’m not.”

A woman had approached them, selling roses, she spoke in italian to Tom and he said he didn’t understand but agreed to buy a rose from her. He handed it to y/n without thinking too much about it.

“You’re the type of guy who shows up with roses,” she pointed out.

“You don’t like roses?” He frowned, looking at the flower he’d just given to her.

“I—do, I like this one,” she grinned. “I just think they’re sold out,” she explained. “Like...everyone uses them, and for me, romance is all about the moment.”

He scoffed. “The moment.”

“Yeah, the moment, you know like—those kind of movie moments?”

“Like what?”

Like that one, with both of them opening up their feelings, hands almost touching but not quite. Feeling the vibrations in each’s heart every time each one laughed.

“Dunno,” she said instead, not wanting to compromise the moment. “I don’t want the typical romance, you know?” She continued. “How they’re all too— caught up in the routine, texting every five minutes, giving each other gifts every anniversary, and how the guy always give her a necklace that you know it’s not special, like—”

“But it is special,” he said.

“If it’s got a meaning, but you know, people usually go by the book.”

“I don’t get it, why don’t you like it?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I’m just… I want something very personal because… Yeah, the superficial love,” she explained .”The one everyone is so encapsulated by, you know? The date nights at fancy restaurants, and- You know how it goes, she goes out to the big city, she finds a guy who takes her out to those kind of dates, where they have nice date nights and then he ends up on one knee because it’s time and he gives her roses, and they go so typical, and they have a child and then the marriage just starts falling apart, and she ignores he’s cheating on her with I dunno, someone at work and they have sex once every two months, and he sends her roses the very next day, and she ends up so frustrated,” she continued. “that she joins one of those spinning classes, and on each Christmas he gives her jewelry and they keep pretending it’s fine but… It really isn’t, you know? They fell into a routine because they never let themselves live the moments and followed the book to be a trophy wife or…And then he ends up wondering when his life went by and she wishes she’d followed that guy she was actually in love with and they never go happy again.”

“I hadn’t thought about it that way,” he nodded.

“Yeah.”

“How do you know all that stuff?” He wondered.

“Well, you know me, I wanna be a screenwriter and to write about people you have to… know people,” she told him.

“A screenwriter,” he grinned.

“I’ve always dreamed too much,” she admitted quietly, now pulling her hands to herself, as she played with her own fingers. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not,” he turned around and then reached for her hand. “You have dreams then?”

“Everyone does, but guess mine… it’s having my big shot, of getting somewhere,” she sighed heavily.

He grinned. “What’s your dream script?”

She grinned, embarrassed, as she avoided his gaze. “No—“ she giggled quietly. “I don't—“

He pushed her. “Tell me,” he pleaded with a beam.

“It’s—“she couldn’t stop chuckling, so nervously. “It’s weird okay?I’ve always wanted to write a script about a dancer.”

“A dancer? You don’t dance,” he pointed out.

“No I don’t but—“she gulped.

He pushed her hair out of the way. “But?”

“You know I really liked Dirty Dancing or Flashdance and those kind of movies—“

“80’s movies right that's your thing,” he recalled.

“Yeah, and I—I always wanted to write something like that, I mean I know it wouldn’t be as epic—“she laughed.

“Why not?”

“Dunno but I’ve always had the idea of writing something like that,” she shrugged. “But also something very personal you know, and something that has this dear moment in your heart you yearn for.”

He nodded. “Right.”

“Will that script have romance?” He asked.

She chuckled. “Why do you ask that?”

“You hate writing romance, I know that for a fact,” he pointed out.

“Dunno, maybe,” she laughed. “I hate writing romance, yes but… maybe it should, a moment that feels romantic, even if it’s not…” She paused. “Not between a couple, you know?”

“What is romance to you, then?”

“Moments, I told you,” she grinned. “Moments… it's about a feeling that you never want to let go off.”

He chuckled. “You’re weird.”

“Romace for me is when two people long for each other, right?” She stopped walkingTom kept his way, turning around watching her. “Like they can live without each other but they don’t want to, because it makes sense, and romance is… Dunno enjoying good and bad and knowing someone’s worst side and yet… you still love them because you know the good things outshine the bad ones and they make them who they are… Romance is knowing the other person, you know? Like hey— I remembered this is your favorite band or—Dunno.”

He didn’t say anything, his eyes beamed as she spoke. “You want a rom com then,” he mocked.

She rolled her eyes. “No, because they’re so typical too.”

“And you think Chris Evans could give you that?” He smirked.

She laughed. “Of course.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?” He wondered.

“I talked about it with Harry once, I’m not sure,” she admitted, as she leaned against a wall, Tom frowned.

“Why not?”

“Two souls that are destined to be together? Sounds—weird,” she chuckled.

“Does it now?” He smirked. “Not even Chris?”

“Do you believe in them?”

“I—well, not really, but I do believe in ‘the one’ you know?” He admitted.

She chuckled. “I don’t.”

“You don’t?”

“No, because the one… someone who is destined for you? What if you don’t love them back?”

Tom frowned. “You would because—”

“I.. No, wait--I get that, but someone who is perfect for you let’s say and yet you love someone else.” She took a deep breath.

He tilted his head. “Then that person isn’t the one.”

“But it has to mean something you know?”

He clicked his tongue. “Maybe,” he cleared his throat.

“What is romance to you?” She asked him.

“Compromising, and-- not caring about it, like, willingly give your life and soul for them, and make them happy and just… Romance for me is two people fighting against all odds, and willing to do so,” he smiled slightly. “Dunno, maybe I’m scared too, you know, of that thing you said, of ending up with someone whom I don’t love and then look back and see I could’ve had it all,” he explained. “And be a sad husband, or whatever.”

“You’re scared of that?”

“I’m afraid of being too late,” he admitted. “Or never admitting my feelings to myself,” he nodded.

“Your feelings.”

“Yeah, I tend to… Be a little reserved when it comes to relationships, I feel like if I give too much, I’ll end up hurt,” Tom shrugged. “I’m afraid the person I love will end up loving someone else because they’re better for them.”

“Why would they be?”

Tom didn’t answer, but instead asked her something else. “You’ve ever been in love?”

“I—yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

She bit her lip. “Once.”

“Twice,” he admitted.

She’d fallen in love twice now. And she wanted so desperately to fall back in love with Tom… She still was but she felt their relationship had been so broken that mending the broken parts wouldn’t be enough. They’d have to mend them and start over.

She wanted to forget Rome, it was too good to be true. She Hadn't revisited that conversation in a while, maybe that’s why it bothered her, it made her sad. It wasn’t that big of a deal of a conversation, probably. But twice.

Tom had fallen in love twice and y/n just once by that time. Now—Timmy. But she knew damn well that was not the reason as to why she was so scared. Why had her mind gone back to Rome?

“Teddy was the first one to dance with her?” Tom repeated his question.

Y/N looked up out of her trance. “Hm?”

Tom gulped. “Let’s take a break, shall we?” He said before quickly heading out of the room.

Y/N rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what was coming. Harry sighed, as y/n followed after Tom, she saw him standing in front of a vending machine cursing as it was not working, he sighed as he proceeded to change his order and get a water bottle instead.

Y/N approached him and he walked the other way.

“Can you please not freak out?” She asked, following after him..

“I’m not freaking out,” he stated before gulping down the entirety of the water bottle.

“Yes you are, you’re pulling a Tom,” she pointed out.

Tom stopped at that remark and turned his head slightly.”Pulling a—what? excuse me?”

“A Tom,” she rushed over. “Just like you have for the past 20 years, you leave and ignore everyone when you don’t want to face your problems and oh, you throw tantrums.”

“I’m not doing that,” he said before storming off, heading to a balcony. “I’ve never done that.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you do, always the same,” she complained as she joined him.

“And what’s pulling a y/n? Going to Timmy? Leaving to another country when you realize you have feelings? You’ve done that, twice” he pointed out.”Both of those statements,” he barked with anger.

“Tom.”

“I thought we wouldn’t talk about our issues while being on set,” he hissed turning around breathing in the fresh air the outside was offering him.

She scoffed. “Yet you’re here freaking out and we’re on a break so I think we’re good.”

“I’m not freaking out,” he snapped.

“You’re upset,” she commented. “you’re sweating and you just downed that water bottle.”

“I’m thirsty,” he said before throwing it into a bin. He leaned against the railing, staring at the buildings, resting his arms on it.

She sighed. “Why does it bother you so much? Did you really expect that you were my first?” She walked over to him, leaning backwards.

He avoided her gaze. “ I figured I wasn’t.”

“Then?”

“Why—why fucking Tim?” He blurted out.

“Why does it matter?” She snapped, and then ran a hand through her hair. “I was in love with him, it happened, whatever,” she shrugged. “It’s no big deal, you’re sounding really toxic right now.”

“It’s not about me being your first, alright? It’s the fact it was bloody him out of fucking everyone—“he tattled.

“Why does Tim bother you that much?” She questioned, crossing her arms as Tom had walked away from the railing, hands on his head.

“Because he was a rebound!” He complained. “and you ended up falling in love with him.”

“He was not a rebound,” she retorted.

“Yes, he was, and he fucking—“He breathed in, and brought his hands to his face trying to calm himself down. “He is there when I fuck up! Always!”

“No—“

“ y/n fucking first thing you always do is go back to him!”

She clenched her jaw. “That’s not true.”

He scoffed. “It’s not? That night after the wine, the whole Tom Cruise thing,” he approached her and then exhaled. “what did you do the very next day?” He babbled. “You went out for breakfast with him!”

“Tom, I didn’t do it because of you,” she retorted. “I already had plans with him—“

“And then you kissed him that day y/n!” He interrupted.

“And as long as I remember I went and searched for you after it,” she reminded him. “And he kissed me I didn’t—“

“First time we bloody slept together, what did you do the next day?” He continued. “You were talking about getting back together with him,” he was speaking so quickly. “and then you saw him!”

“Well, I didn’t know where the hell we were going, and I was supposed to talk to him that day anyway!” She explained.

“You wanted to go back to him!”

“Well, I was still in love with him!” She snapped but then closed her eyes to calm down. “I was in love with him,” she whispered. “My breakup with him wasn’t because I didn’t love him—“She continued. Because it wasn’t.

Her breakup with Tim had never been because she’d stopped loving him, but because she knew she didn’t love him enough and Tim had given her time to think about it. How do even you continue a relationship with a turned down proposal? Tim wasnt even expecting an answer and then he’d told her: I just need to know you love me’. And y/n did—and though sleeping with Tom had awakened a lot of things. She remembered that on that precise moment… she knew she didn’t want to feel used. She wanted to feel love and that’s why she wanted to back to Tim.

“and it doesn’t have anything to do with us, alright?” She added. “But it’s in my past, yes I wanted to go back together with him at that point—“

“And to this point?” He questioned.

She covered her face, and turned around. “Tom I can’t bloody believe you—“

“Why did you want to get back together with him?”

“Because, yes, I’m gonna be honest with you,” she turned to him. “I didn’t want to break up with him, but I also didn’t want to marry him—“

“You kept the bloody ring.”

“Yes, I did, because I was confused, don’t you get it? I said no to a proposal because I bloody had feelings for you,” she reminded him, as she pointed at him. “I couldn’t say yes to a proposal because I was so fucking in love with you!” She snapped, and then lowered her voice. “Still am…” she sighed. “and I thought we already had had this conversation.”

Tom clenched his jaw and walked away. “Well, I’m bringing it back.”

“Now?” She shook her head.

“Well I wasn’t going to but now we’re here,” he said arrogantly.

“I can’t believe this is what you want to talk about,” she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“You just said you were in love with him when we hooked up the first time—“

“Hooked up,” she chuckled. “That’s what we did! Besides...You treated it like a bloody one night stand!”

“Maybe it should’ve been,” Tom barked.

Y/N felt a stab right through her chest, so upset. She licked her lips and then took a heavy breath. “Oh, alright I see how this is, okay,” she nodded sadly as she was about to get back inside.

Tom cursed under his breath, and then rushed to stop her. “No, y/n I didn’t--I just can’t stand him,” he confessed. “because he just showed up in your life and you simply loved him.”

“You—“she squinted. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

He scowled.

“Tom you’re—You’re literally the only one who can—show up and—“She gulped. “For him? It took him months and months and—“

“You—you gave in.”

“What the hell did you expect me to do?” She questioned.

He bit his lip. “I don’t know.”

“May I remind you what happened? I…”

“God y/n I know, but right after it happened—“

“Right after it happened I spent months crying, Tom,” she recalled. “I didn’t go out, all the sunshine was gone, and then he showed up in my life and—And what in this bloody hell did you expect me to do? Fight for you? Run to your arms after you broke my heart?”

He hesitated. “Well, yes, look at me right now, I ran back to you when you hurt me—“

She couldn’t even believe what he was saying.”But this—Tom was after a relationship, you know I loved you—you told me—I don’t know what to tell you with this, I apologized, I told you I loved you, you know I do, meanwhile back then you just broke my heart and then blamed me for it—“

“And you ran after Tim,” he said

“No, I did not,” she chided. “I told you, it was months after. He made me fall in love with him.”

“And is he trying that now?”

She shook her head. “What?”

“I—you ran back to him just now.”

“I didn’t come here to LA to be with him.”

He chuckled dryly. “Yes you did.”

“I did not, you—My script was the reason.”

Tom clenched his jaw. But his look was softer.

“why do you hate him that much?” She asked.

Tom shrugged. “Because.”

“Because?” She repeated, she really couldn’t believe it. “Tom, oh my god—And all this? Are you actually angry that he was my bloody first? Do you realize how sexist and stupid you sound?”

He squinted and scrunched his nose. “It’s not--Look, y/n it’s not that I wanted it to be me, okay? I don’t care who you’ve slept with, it’s none of my fucking business.”

“No, it’s not.”

“But you have to understand that every single thing you lived with him could’ve been me if I just hadn’t fucked up.”

She didn’t answer.

“He had everything I could’ve had.”

The words resonated in his mind over and over. He did have a reason to hate Tim. Because when Tom had made up his mind and when he thought he didn’t care anymore, he’d bought the fourth yellow flowers, never delivered.

Before everything, Tom had made up his mind, never told anybody. Her remembered driving around, feeling like he could barely breathe, going round and round around her block until he finally decided to go for it. He hadn’t rehearsed what he would say, but he had given it a thought or two. Who was he kidding? He’d probably rehearsed a thousand speeches in his head.

Because they were supposed to hate each other.

What was he supposed to say? That he hadn’t meant it? That he loved her? Because she was so annoying. They hated each other for a reason. She was like a cold coffee that’s been sitting in from the day before, and she was always on the loose, always giving him a cold stare. So bitter. How would he tell her?

‘I don’t like you one bit but I’m in love with you so deeply and I just want you to tell me how to love you.’

They were so different. He liked tea, she liked coffee. She liked the night, and the moon and he liked the sun.

Yet he loved her, and he regretted every damn second he’d broken her heart. Though it was mostly because of Harry it was because he’d been scared of his own feelings, how despite their differences, he had felt a certain connection.

He had shuffled his feet outside his car, shaking as he held the flowers. So nervous. What was he going to say?

That he had lost his mind for breaking her heart? That he’d been in love with her since that stupid first kiss? How she stole each heartbeat and how every kiss they’d had had killed him? How in Rome he had fallen in love when they’d gone to that restaurant, under the bright sun, as she covered herself with that silly hat she’d bought. Hiding her smile under the shadow, as her laughed echoed its way to his heart.

He had walked up to her place, it was around Christmas time. It was cold and it was snowing, he had put on his best coat and he’d just gotten a haircut. He’d chosen a lotion he knew she’d probably like. He was shaking. And he’d taken the stairs, not the elevator. Stairs to give him time to think.

It had taken him so long to make that decision and he didn’t even know if she would take his apologies, or if she’d even open the door. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t but he really hoped she did.

But Tom knew that the least he could do. Maybe offer a new start. They’d have a Christmas party at her parent’s place. He thought it would be good to show up with flowers, talk to her and—kiss her? Could he kiss her?

Would it be everything he ever dreamed of?

He rang the bell, that’s the first thing he could do.

“Hello—?” That was not y/n’s voice. A curly haired guy had opened the door, to Tom’s displeasure.

He remembered him, from James’ birthday just a few weeks before. The cheekbones guy, guy who had made y/n smile. Y/n’s probable rebound.

Was it really a rebound if they hadn’t dated? What exactly had gone down in Rome that neither of them could speak about it?

“Is—y/n here?” Tom asked quickly.

“Yeah, she’s getting ready,” The guy answered.

“You’re Timothee right?” Tom asked. “We met at James’ party.”

“Yeah, you’re Tom,” Tim chuckled. “Do—you want to come in?”

“Uh—are you guys going anywhere? I thought—Y/N was coming to the Christmas dinner party,” Tom gulped.

“Oh, yeah, she’s bringing me over, she invited me,” he nodded. “Seems a bit too soon to meet the family but—“Tim chuckled, “honestly I don’t mind. I just hope they like me.”

Tom frowned. “Meet—the family?” Tom cackled. “But please, we all bring friends.”

“You see,” Tim chuckled. “I’m being introduced as the boyfriend so I’m a bit nervous.”

“The—come again? The boyfriend?”

“Yes, boyfriend,” Timothee grinned. “

Tom felt his heart shatter, and he wasn’t sure but probably even Timothee had heard it. The unequivocal sound of his heart breaking.

“Oh,” that’s what Tom could manage to say as he took a deep breath. “Good luck, she’s quite the character.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“She’s like cold tasteless coffee on a beautiful morning, or rain pouring down on your wedding day,” Tom said without really meaning to but trying to hide his emotions.

Tim frowned slightly as he stared him up and down. “Are those for her? Want me to give them to her?” Tim offered with a bit of poison, as he looked at the flowers.

“No, these aren’t for her—I’m—I—“Tom hid the flowers. “Please, as if I would give any flowers to y/n, no,” he shook his head. “She’s—She's my enemy, you see, we don’t get along,” he explained. “Not one bit, we can’t be in the same room for five minutes… No, I was just driving by and I thought she’d like a ride.”

“Oh,” Tim nodded suspiciously. “Funny thing, to offer a ride to someone you hate.”

“Yeah, well it’s Christmas, I get my nice side, but I assume she doesn’t need a ride now, so I’m gonna—leave. See you there.”

And Tom remembered throwing away the flowers on the first bin he saw.

It still echoed.

How he had been too late. How Tim had taken away the chance for him. Because of course he blamed it on Tim because he didn’t want to accept the fact that it had all been on Tom.

And he thought about it: it’s just a rebound, just a rebound, but then he saw it wasn’t. How her eyes did brighten up. How that rebound lasted two years and ended with a declined proposal.

And now, she was there living with Tim and Tom feared he’d miss out his chances again. Had he not showed up for the script would y/n eventually end up dating Timothee?

That’s what bothered Tom. He’d never been the jealous kind but when it came to y/n with Timothee specifically, he would go mad. So incredibly jealous and enraged and angry. Yes, Tom saw Tim as a threat. A threat with pretty eyes that could easily enthrace y/n.

“Funny he must think the same of you,” y/n said, crossing her arms.

“It’s not—“He gulped and looked down. “He was right after Rome.”

“That’s not on him, Tom,” she reminded him. “It’s on—“

“On me, yes, but what—you fell in love with a rebound y/n.”

“I’m not one to have a rebound Tom, I’m not you,” she hissed before finally leaving the balcony.

He didn’t know what she meant by that sentence. Though, he would be lying by saying that. He did know it. Tom was someone who always wanted a relationship. He regretted it.

Though the only true rebound he had had was with Cherry. But y/n didn’t have to know that.

He followed after her.

“Hey, no wait—“he stopped her mid hallway.

She frowned. “What now?”

He looked around and saw the door behind her, he opened it to show a janitor closet. Well, anything could work, really.

He walked in and dragged her in.

“Tom, no—no,” she rolled her eyes as Tom found the light switch and turned the lights on before closing the door.“How romantic,” y/n hissed sarcastically.

Tom watched her. “Look, I’m sorry, I—I just can’t help being jealous okay?”

“What even for?” She questioned. “You’re an idiot for being jealous.”

“But am I really?”

“Yes,” she took his hands. “I—If you seriously—“

“He bothers me.I don’t want him around you, and it sounds so—“

“Possessive and selfish and immature and stupid,” y/n finished his sentence.

Tom forced a chuckle. “Yes all that.”

“But how can you not see that I’m crazy for you?” She questioned him making Tom blush. “How Can you not see it?”

“I—Well,” he didn’t know what to answer to that.

If he were honest, it was quite difficult to believe it for him. Not really. But he felt insecure, especially because last time it had been a hoax and it had felt so real. But then again it wasn’t a hoax. It was unbelievably hard to understand what he felt.

Especially because he knew his feelings were not in vain and that he wanted to ask about the flowers in her wall. He somehow knew that y/n… well he thought at least, that y/n had slept with Tim.

Maybe it was the way she’d kissed him and how it had felt so different, she kissed differently, if it made any sense.

“you’re an idiot,” she pointed out.

“I’m an idiot for you,” he said without thinking.

She chuckled. “How romantic,” she repeated the same words she had said before, meaning this time probably, or a little bit less angry.

Tom took a deep breath. He felt—wrong. He had slept with her cousin. He was wrong too. But it meant nothing. Cherry had been an accident. An accident that—Well, had happened and he regretted. He hadn’t told her one but about his relationship with y/n. What could he tell her? If y/n hadn’t told her then Tom shouldn’t have, though now seeing it he probably should have.

But the mistake was made already. And it had felt

However if she had slept with Tim, it would mean something. The guy was bloody in love with her. Or was he not?

Had Tim finally moved on? He probably hadn’t. Even if y/n had once said she was easy to forget, Tom knew that was a lie. He should know, he’d loved her his whole life now. Y/N was an expert on making anyone turn to look at her, and making everyone remember her, and her kiss always tempted him.

So no, talking it from a personal experience, he knew Tim hadn’t moved on. Tom knew, for a fact that though Louis had regretted breaking up with y/n three days after their breakup. James had told Tom that Louis had showed up to her house to try and get her back. Y/N hadn’t agreed to it, though. A very powerful breakup, James told Tom, y/n had apparently yelled at him and gave him back every sweatshirt and t-shirt, so it meant it was over.

“Look I’m about to kiss you,” Tom warned her.

She blinked in confusion. “And you’re announcing it. You usually don’t care and just do it.”

“Yes because I’m telling you what I’m kissing you for… some reasons.”

“Oh, do tell,” she chuckled.

“Alright, one because I don’t want you to think I like arguing, I hate it,” he pointed out.

She frowned, slightly and then snickered. “That’s strange, we spent our whole lives arguing.”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I love bothering you but not when it comes to us,” he admitted. “Not really.”

She rolled her eyes. “Go on.”

“Two, I’m kissing you to prove to you that even if he tries, he won’t be able to kiss you the way I do, never,” he stated.

She rolled her eyes for a second time and groaned. “Uh huh.”

“And three,” he took a deep breath. “Because I know the cast is coming here today and I know you want to shoot your shot so I’m just going to--”

She looked away. “Yeah, you can’t really stop me from that.”

“Hm, let’s see,” he said before leaning over to kiss her, he turned off the lights She didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, quickly cupping his face.

Tom didn’t really understand how they could go from that argument to kissing on a janitor’s closet. He couldn’t complain, though.

He tried to deepen the kiss, she didn’t complain, she only wrapped her arms around his neck as his hands went to her waist.

Maybe they were too angry, the kiss wasn’t sweet, it felt forced but sensual, as if they were too desperate to prove something to each other. Quick and rough, but deepening.

The door was opened.

“Oh my god,” Josh said. “I’m sorry—I sorry—-Sorry, sorry, sorry!” He quickly apologized and closed the door.

Y/N and Tom quickly separated, eyes widened.

“No! No! No!” Tom said as Josh had probably already left.

Y/N couldn’t stop blushing. She was so embarrassed.

“Great now they’ll think I’m sleeping with you,” She groaned.

Tom blinked. “I..”

“I meant, in a ‘she’s sleeping with her boss to get what she wants’ kind of thing,” she rolled her eyes, and then burst out laughing. “Oh god.”

He joined in, laughing too.

“We’re in trouble.”

“What were you doing in a closet?” Emma questioned y/n as soon as they’d gotten back. Emma had some coffee stains in her blouse so y/n went with her to the bathroom. Emma tried to clean it off

“Nothing—who told you?” Y/N asked as she was trying to get herself presentable. “Oh my god.”

“Josh told me!” Emma said. “He rushed in and said ‘oh my god y/n was in the closet, and I thought he meant you were gay and then-- No, that’s not the point, what the hell were you doing in the janitor’s closet?”

“I was—looking out for cleaning supplies?” Y/N lied.

“Y/n?” Emma questioned.

“What? Who told you—”

“I told you!” Emma said. “Josh told me! Harry asked for you! Harry and I were talking and he accidentally spilled his coffee and Josh went in and said he’d get a mop and look out for you and Tom because the cast is here, and also…”

“Why did Harry spill his coffee?” Y/N asked, trying to defuse the tensions.

“Because you left me alone with him, that’s why.”

“What—? Did he say anything? Did you talk?”

“No, but he… asked me if I wanted to go for a cup of coffee later,” Emma sounded sad.

“Well that’s good right?”

Emma glared at y/n. “Come on asking to go out for coffee is just... Terrible, it means trouble.”

“Does it?”

“Yes, maybe he will tell me he doesn’t want to be with me anymore,” Emma pointed out, stressed the coffee stain wouldn’t take off.

“He does,” y/n pointed out watchint her.

“What if he doesn’t?” Emma grunted as she kept trying to clean it off with the dry towel.

“It’s coffee,” y/n said, meaning to the blouse.

“Its coffee, my point, it always means trouble—” She turned to her. “Wait why are you so flushed, seriously what were you doing in a closet?” She asked again. “And were was Tom— and what took you—”She opened her eyes and gasped, as she let the dry towl fall to the floor. “Oh my god y/n were you having sex?”

“What? No!” She blushed.

“Y/N!” Emma smirked.

“No! We were arguing over the whole Tim thing, thanks by the way, I didn’t—”

“He didn’t know that Tim was your first?” Emma asked.

“I didn’t—I didn’t tell him,” y/n got shy.

“No, well of course it’s none of his business,” Emma agreed.

“We were arguing over that, okay?” She sighed. “Which okay, he’s got a point, about Tim but...then I was about to come back and we—He stopped me to continue the argument in the closet but-”

“But? No. Never mind, but then you were going to have sex, angry sex was it?” Emma laughed.

“I—Emma!”

“Were you going to?”

Y/N coughed.

“Y/N!”

“Look!” She blushed. “We were making out but I probably would’ve if Josh hadn’t found us.”

Emma chirped. “Y/N oh my god, who are you?”

“What?”

“Like two days ago you referred to sex like love making and now you were about to have angry sex in a closet?” Emma couldn’t belive what she was hearing, and she couldn’t stop laughing.

“Shut up!”

“Look, whatever, Oh my god, and please take off that stupid horny face, we’re meeting the cast.”

Y/N nudged Emma. “I’m not horny!”

“Well take the ‘I’m stupid’ face off, Jesus y/n what happened to you?” Emma rolled her eyes. “It’s been only a few days and Tom stupidified you.”

“He—”

“He does,” Emma said before y/n could complain. “And I’m happy because he gets even more stupid for you but y/n this is your dream, the script I mean, we’ll go and meet the cast and--”

“Yes--”

“So I need you to get yourself together.”

Harry and Tom were not too far from there, Harry was shaking. Apparently he’d gotten so nervous when asking Emma out that he’d spilled coffee on her. It had been hard enough having to talk to her. He’d started asking her if she’d slept well, and Emma hadn’t answered, she was nervous. He then asked her about LA, and she said it was fine. He asked how she was doing and she didn’t really want to answer. It was so awkward. Emma told him she really didn’t want to talk about any personal issues when they were on set, because it simply wasn’t professional. So he asked her if she was excited about the cast, Harry knew that Emma had a crush on Jordan Fisher and so she started gushing about that.

It went normal, that is until Harry’s hand decided to simply stop working and spill the coffee.

“I asked Emma if she wanted to go out for coffee and then-”

Tom frowned. “Coffee? Harry that’s the worst thing you could—”

“What? She likes coffee?”

“And Y/N likes chocolates and I don’t take her to a vending machine!” Tom pointed out. “And I don’t smear coffee on her clothes.”

“Well I uh—”

“You’re an idiot,” Tom rolled his eyes.

Harry clenched his jaw. “Whatever. Thanks, speaking of idiots, did you know Sam is coming?”

Tom didn’t know that. “Sam? What for?”

“It’s y/n’s birthday next week,” Harry said, matter of fact-ly.

“Right—Which reminds me... I should be planning her something right? I really need to outdo whatever Tim did last year, and if I’m the… Not the boyfriend, not sure what I am but-”

“Tom you’re losing focus.”

“Oh right, Sam, Sam is coming?” Tom came back to his senses.

“James is coming and he invited him,” Harry said, as both of them walked out of the room where they’d held the meeting, now heading to the place where they’d meet the cast. “And by the way James isn't as happy with all of this.”

“What?” Tom frowned.

“Sam told me he doesn’t want you around y/n,” Harry warned him.

Tom stopped. James had initially, kind of adored the idea of y/n and Tom dating. Of course he’d shown the protective brother side, but he’d been the first one to support Tom.

“Why not?” Tom was upset.

“You’re really asking that?” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Dunno, it’s weird, thought James was too busy dating to care about y/n and me,” Tom poisoned, knowing exactly that James’ current relationship was getting serious and that he had avoided talking to Tom. Tom thought that initially it was because of the dates, but now he started to believe James had actively avoided him because he disliked him.

“He’s always been so protective of her,” Harry reminded him.

“Yes and I got it alright? He already gave me the talk of how if I was gonna try anything it better be serious and I am going serious, look, things went wrong but I want something serious. I am serious when it comes to y/n.”

“Are you?” Harry stopped him.

“I am all serious when it comes to her, willing to make all her dreams come true,” Tom said, truthfully.

Harry clenched his jaw. “You can fool her with all that shit but you know James won’t swallow any of your bullshit,”

“It’s not bullshit.” Because it wasn’t. He already was on his way to make her dreams come true. Her dancer script, the one she’d told him from Rome. The one he wasn’t supposed to remember because he had been supposed to forget everything concerning that city.

“But whatever—I also have some bad news,” Harry said.

“Bad news? Those were good news?” Tom mocked.

“Cherry is coming back to LA,” Harry warned him.

Tom shrugged. “Good for her.”

Harry frowned. “Tom.”

“What?”

“Y/N already knows you slept with her.”

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someone-worth-racing-for · 4 years

Text

I have finally done it - I have written a fanfiction to the pic above and to this post

You can read the whole story bellow or on AO3

About bwoken folders

„Sash, my PC is bwoken again. Can I use your Laptop?” The young Argentine could hear his flat-mate from their living room. Instantly a smile popped onto his lips and in disbelief he shook his head and rolled his eyes. “What a surprise!” He answered sarcastic, before he added “Sure.”

Still amused about that his friend’s PC was broken once again and the way he said broken, caused Sacha to giggle to himself. It really wasn’t nothing new that Lando’s PC did break. It actually happened at least once every day.

But on that day, when they had actually wanted to play PUBG the whole afternoon long, his PC broke even four times and by the last time Lando was already so frustrated, annoyed and also tired about it, that he pronounced a w instead of an r by the word broken.

Even when that whole afternoon was a disaster, the two friends still had to laugh about that so badly till teardrops were running down their faces and their bellies did hurt from laughing so much. Since that day it was their insider joke and always brought a smile on their lips, whenever they pronounced the word like that.

Sacha was currently cooking their dinner, some chicken shawarma. After they had moved in here together, they had quickly agreed to that the young Argentine will take over the cooking, while Lando was doing most of the housework. Not because Sacha was better at cooking, but when he looked at their statistics, he did burn himself way less than his friend and he was also able to pronounce their meals correctly.

He had just wanted to put the chicken into the pan, when he heard his flat-mate once again. But Sacha was only able to catch his own name, the rest he hadn’t heard because he was handling with some plates and the sound was too loud to understand Lando in the next room.

“Yeah? Didn’t hear you.” Sacha told him and waited all quietly for his answer. But it didn’t come, Lando kept quiet. Maybe now he hadn’t heard him. So the young Argentine went into the living room, where his friend was sitting on their couch, showing him his back.

Sacha just wanted to ask him once more why he had called after him, when he saw what Lando was doing on his Laptop and he frozen instantly. The young Brit must have noticed his flat-mate’s presence behind him, because slowly he turned around and looked confused up at him.

But all Sacha could do was staring at the bright screen with painful widened eyes and an in shock opened mouth. Only when Lando said his name once again, he took his eyes away from the screen and looked at his friend’s expression.

“Why do you have a folder full of pictures of me?” He wanted to know, but he never got an answer. Sacha didn’t know what he should say and he also knew it was very childish, but all what he could do was running away. Running away from this situation, running away from giving an answer, running away from his friend.

“Sash?” He could hear Lando, while he was already by the stairs and ran as fast as possible upstairs into the safety of his room. The Argentine tipped over his own feet and almost fell by the last few stairs, when he could hear Lando cashing after him.

Just in time he reached his room and shot the door close behind himself. All breathless and still not able to believe what had just happened, he leaned against the door and let his head fall back at it, when Lando reached his room as well and began to knock against the wood.

“Sash, what’s wrong? Please, let me in.” The Brit asked calmly, but behind the door Sacha was shaking his head wildly, while tears did already burn in his eyes and he squeezed his eyelids shot abruptly.

Desperately and ashamed to his bones, he let himself slide down the door, till he reached the floor and he pulled his knees against his chest. “Go away. Please.” He whined almost inaudible.

He didn’t know if Lando had heard him, but at one point he finally gave up with knocking against his door and asking him to finally open it. When Sacha didn’t hear anything any more, he fell to his side so his cheek was pressing against the door, rolled himself together till he was as tiny as possible and pulled the sleeves of his hoddie over his hands till even his fingertips were hidden under it, before he did start to cry bitterly.

He had messed it up, he had messed up just everything. How could he even be so stupid to first call the folder after Lando himself and second why had he let that damn folder on his desktop and didn’t hide it somewhere more safe?

God, he was so damn stupid. Now Lando knew and he was probably already downstairs again and looked through the folder, which was named by himself. He knew it now, he knew everything.

Sacha had a crush, a very, very big crush even, on his flat-mate. His best friend, his childhood friend, the one he called his brother. He had a crush on Lando.

Actually he didn’t even know any more since when he had feelings for him, but it must have been for over one year by now and these feelings were very strong and also pretty intense.

They knew each other already since they were kids, babies actually. Their fathers were working in the same company, were colleagues. Lando’s and Sacha’s mothers did know each other already since school and so it ended up that the two of them had become friends pretty quickly.

Sacha only knew his life with Lando, he was always present. They saw each other almost every day, because the Norris were living just five minutes away from his place. They went together into kindergarten, into school, they did have the same hobbies, liked the same sports, they were just always together.

And as far as Sacha could remember, they had also never fought together. Lando and he were pretty similar. Quiet and shy around stranger or people they didn’t trust enough, but they could have the fun of their lives, when they were together.

They were actually never seen alone, always together. Every weekend Lando was sleeping at his place or vice versa, they helped each other with their homework and simple spend every minute of their childhood together.

So it was actually almost logical when the two of them wanted to go study, it randomly even happened that they both had to go to the same university in London, and they moved into a flat together. In the interest of their mother’s, because they both exactly knew how clumsy the two of them could sometimes be and they were also a little worried about their two little boys moving all alone into the big city.

Since over one year the two of them were already living here together and still they hadn’t fought about anything or couldn’t see each other any more. They still had so much fun together, enjoyed each other’s company, knowing that someone was always there for you, always close, when you needed some support and they will get through this together.

Sacha and Lando did trust each other completely, they had always each other’s backs and also shared their secrets with each other. Almost every secret, expect Sacha’s biggest one, until this evening.

Lando was perfect in Sacha’s eyes. The most adorable and most beautiful human he had ever got to meet. He loved him, he really did with his whole heart, but he had never planned to tell him anything about it, even when it had hurt so much to see him holdings hands with a girl, to see him kissing another girl’s lips and disappearing with another one into his room, exactly knowing what they were going to do and that he won’t ever be that lucky like one of these girls.

Sacha had cried his eyes out already more than once about things like these. He always felt so sick, when he saw the love of his life with someone else. It broke his heart into a million pieces, especially because he knew he won’t ever have a chance by Lando.

He liked girls and not boys and especially not him. Lando wasn’t gay, in contrast to himself. He exactly knew he was, but till now he never had a relationship before. Hell, he hadn’t even kissed yet. He only wanted to kiss Lando, he only wanted to have a relationship with him and especially he only wanted to have sex with him and with no one else. But even when he knew this all wasn’t possible, he still didn’t want to try it with someone else.

Sacha only wanted Lando, because he loved him with his whole heart and he would have been alright with dying as a virgin and taking that secret into his grave, but now his best friend knew the truth.

And it let his whole body shake every time he thought about it that he had ruined everything. It was all over now. Their friendship, their trust, their time together, just everything. Nothing will ever be like before again. Lando will move out of their flat, he probably won’t ever want to have anything to do with him and Sacha won’t ever see him in his life again.

The young Argentine didn’t know since how long he was already sitting like the pile of misery he was on the floor and cried quietly to himself, but it must have been long enough for Lando to get through the whole folder and he probably didn’t even have to get to the very last pic to get it.

It were hundreds of pics. On most of them it was only Lando, but on some pics were both of them. Pics from when they were younger, when they were children. Pics from the holidays they had been together, pics from when they were camping, pics his mother had made when they had fallen asleep all cuddled up together on their living room couch when they were eight years old.

Pics Lando probably couldn’t remember any more, pics he had already forgotten about their existence, pics he had never seen before or pics he wasn’t aware of Sacha had taken from him.

It were so many pics, but each he did connect with an unforgettable memory. Some were connected with a thought he he had at that moment, mostly it were thoughts like how damn good-looking Lando was again that day. Some memories were also connected with a song, they had used to hear at that time.

But most of his memories were connected with a certain beautiful smile and also with a unique giggle or laugher. Sacha adored Lando’s cheeky smiles, each of them were coming from deep inside his heart and his giggles and laughers were full of joy and life.

However he was feeling before, he was always in a good mood, even happy, when he saw and heard his friend like that. How often he had already wanted to taste that smile. To know how his lips did feel against his own. To taste his scent against his own skin. So often, Sacha had already stopped to count a long time ago.

But of all the pics the Argentine had saved on his Laptop, and most of them also on his phone, there still existed one favourite pic of his friend. They were about sixteen years old then and were swimming at his uncle’s lake that hot summer afternoon.

Lando was only in his swim shorts, but not because half of his so perfect formed body was naked, you could actually only see his head and shoulders on the pic, only Sacha knew about the details because he was the only other one present that day, was this one his all-time favourite picture of him.

Lando’s hair was still lightly wet, some of his sweet curls were hanging into face and he smiled that famous sunshine-smile into his camera, Sacha always told himself that he was the only one who got that smile from him. He could still feel the sun from that day on his skin, he could still hear the birds singing their songs in the treetops, he could still smell the summer in his nose and he could still tell how happy he was to spend that afternoon with his best friend together.

This picture Sacha has already edited so often, because he liked it so much, but nothing could beat the original one. It was simply perfect, the most beautiful moment in his life with the prettiest young man. He also had this one on his phone, looked at it almost every night before he fell asleep. Especially when Lando had a new girlfriend and he cried himself into sleep while looking at it.

This picture also always popped up whenever Lando was calling him, so Sacha even began to smile to himself, even before he heard his voice on the other end. Lando meant so much to him, more than the Brit even knew and it made him so sad that he won’t ever mean that much to him.

Somehow the tears had stopped to run all uncontrolled out of his eyes, his deep sobs had also stopped. Sacha only cradled himself back and forth any more now, not wanting to think about what will happen when he will go downstairs again.

He knew he had to, he couldn’t stay in his room for the rest of his life, even he wanted to do that so badly. Best he wanted to keep sitting right here and think about all the great memories he had shared with his best friend together.

“Are you still crying?” Sacha could hear Lando’s voice behind the door suddenly. Was he already sitting there the whole time long? Waiting for him to calm down and stop crying? Shocked the young Argentine didn’t know what to answer. Panic was flooding his body once again, while he tried to keep it together.

“I’m sorry if I have done something wrong. I really didn’t want to put my nose into stuff which aren’t my business, but.. You have to admit that I actually had kind of the right to look into the folder, when it already has my name.” Lando said through the door and even when Sacha was devastated, he still had to smile.

The young Brit could hear him doing so and also Sacha could hear him smile through the door now. “Please, Sash. Open the door. I’m really sorry.” Lando didn’t have to apologize for anything. It wasn’t his fault, he hadn’t done anything wrong. He was actually even right and had all reasons to be curious.

Sacha inhaled one more time deep inside his lungs, before he stretched his hand to unlock the door. On all four, he crawled over to his bed, leaned with his back against it, still sitting on the floor and waited for Lando to come inside.

The Brit waited some moments, till Sacha could watch the door buckle move and finally saw Lando kneeling in the door way. All concerned he looked at his best friend, even tilted his head, before Lando quickly crawled on all four next to side. He also leaned his back against the bed, a small distance was between the two of them.

They were sitting like that for a half eternity. All quiet and calm, till Lando carefully spoke up “Don’t you want to tell me why you have cried so badly?” The Brit eyed his friend’s expression close, while Sacha tried to keep it together and to not burst out on tears once again.

Why did he have to ask that? Why did Lando have to torture him? It was more than just obvious and if Sacha was serious he was too weak to say it out loud. Because he wasn’t able to give him an answer anyway, he looked away and tried to sniff his tears away.

“I mean, those pics are nice, great even. You don’t study photography because you are bored, but I still don’t get it why you have run away from me. I know it was wrong from me to just open the folder without your permission, but.. I just don’t get it.” Lando tried to explain, being a little helpless himself because he didn’t know why his best friend was already crying again.

“Stop it, Lando.” Sacha said suddenly out of nowhere. He wanted to sound strong, but his voice broke by his name. Even more confused than before, Lando was looking down at him. Either he really didn’t know what was going on, or he was making fun of him. With horror Sacha got it that it really was first, even when someone blind would have been able to see it.

“God, you are sometimes really a muppet, Lando.” Sacha told him and normally he would have started to laugh following, but he really didn’t feel that way right now. The Brit frowned hard and the Argentine could almost hear his brain cells work to get an answer, but it seemed like Sacha really had to say it out loud.

Silent tears were running down his cheeks, while he took all his courage together and finally told his best friend the truth “I like you, Lando. More than just a friend, more than a brother, more than I actually should do. Do you finally get it now?”

Shocked Lando was looking down at his friend, after he had finally got the meaning of his words. “You.. you mean you kind of.. love me?” He still had to ask the obvious. Because of his already shaking lower lip, Sacha wasn’t able to answer him anything any more, so he only nodded his head and felt very sick suddenly.

“Damn.” He could hear his best friend next to him. “Why have you never told me about it?” Sometimes Sacha hated Lando for asking such stupid questions. “What do you think I should have said? I couldn’t just go over to you and tell you my feelings for you.”

“But you should have.” Lando said in a disappointed voice. Great, now his best friend was angry at him and maybe also disgusted. “It would have saved myself many kisses and also some sex with girls I didn’t even like and I have only thought about you the whole time, while I was together with them.”

“Huh?” Sacha asked, when his heartbeat stopped and he didn’t know if he had just heard him right. “Who is the muppet of the two of us now?” Lando asked with a wide smirk on his lips. “You.. you want to tell me that you.. you also kind of love me?” The young Argentine still thought he was in his best dream ever, but his heart stopped to beat completely when the young man next to him nodded his head.

“Of course, I do.” Lando secured him like it was the most self-evident thing on the world. “You aren’t making fun of me? Because I think I would faint if you do.” Sacha still had to ask once more, even when he best already wanted to throw his arms around his best friend’s neck.

“I would never make fun of you, especially not now. And now come here, you Argentinean muppet.” Lando told him sincerely and already opened his arms for him to close the distance between the two of them.

Without thinking about it for one second, Sacha almost crashed into his arms and let himself get hold, while he cried out all the fear of his body. Lando was cradling him softly the whole time long, whispered sweet words into his hair and stroked over his shaking back.

After a half eternity, Sacha had somehow managed it to calm down again, before he asked his friend with tear tracks everywhere on his face “But why have you dated all these girls then?”

Lovingly Lando smiled down at him, while he whipped the still present tears away from his cute face “Because of the same reason like you. I was too afraid about to tell you my feelings for you. And I was also afraid about telling you I’m gay. I didn’t want to make things complicated between us. I was afraid about losing you.”

“Let us agree that we are both muppets.” Sacha suggested with finally a smile on his lips again. Lando giggled, the most beautiful sound in the Argentine’s ears, before he said in agreement “That sounds fair.”

They went silent, while Lando was stroking with the back of his fingers over Sacha’s still lightly wet cheeks and looked all lovingly down to him. “What do you think about the idea that I will help you what that chicken shorw.. chicken shuwar.. however. To help you with cocking our dinner?”

Sacha giggled about his friend’s clumsiness, while Lando pulled him up onto his feet. “It’s called chicken shawarma, you muppet.” The Argentine corrected him half-hearted, but his heart skipped a beat, when Lando didn’t let go of his hand, looked over at his shoulder back to him and said with a smirk “Yeah, but I’m your muppet now.”

Together they went on with cooking and like all the other evenings before they were eating dinner in front of the TV. They did fool around like always, acted like nothing life-changing had happened, till the dirty dishes were inside the dishwasher and they started a random film.

Sacha took all his courage together, when he took one of the fluffy blankets from the end of their couch, sat himself right next to Lando and wrapped it around both of their bodies. The Brit smiled all happily down at him, when Sacha beamed up at him like the happiest puppy on the whole wide world.

Carefully he cuddled himself against him, laid his head against his shoulder and something deep inside his belly did flutter, when Lando reached for his hand under the blanket to lace their fingers together and stroked all gently with his thumb over the back of his hand.

All peacefully they were watching the film like that, even when nether of them was actually following it. Their hearts were beating way too fast to listen to it and their thoughts were only by each other and how great it felt to have each other so close.

It was Lando, who stopped the silence between the two of them first, when he asked “I still don’t know why you have all these pictures of me on your laptop.” Sacha rolled his eyes in unbelief. By now he actually thought Lando really had fun to bring him into uncomfortable situations or he liked to hear it from his own lips to get the permission that his thoughts were right.

“Because you are fucking beautiful and I couldn’t bring it over my heart to delete just one of these pictures, that’s why.” Sacha admitted and couldn’t stop his own cheeks to blush badly. “That’s pretty cute form you, but it was also pretty dumb from you to have that folder on your desktop and even name it after me, you know?”

Playfully Sacha boxed into his rips, only causing Lando so to wrap his arms around him and pull him even tighter against his body. “Oh really, without your help I would have never figured that out.” Sacha said all sarcastic and earned a giggle from his best friend for it.

“And do you maybe even have a favourite pic of me? Or couldn’t you chose under the thousands of good-looking pics you have from me?” Lando asked all noisy and cheeky, before Sacha rolled his eyes and told him inviting “Just call me.”

First a little confused, because even when Lando was so damn pretty he was still a muppet in the end of the day, he looked down at him, before he got it, reached for his phone and called his number.

Sacha had also already reached for his own phone and showed Lando the still dark display, till it brightened up by his call and this one pic from his sixteen-year-old-self by the lake showed up.

“That’s your favourite pic of me? I actually look stupid in this one.” Lando asked a little shocked, while he eyed himself closer at the display. “No, you look so beautiful here. You weren’t expecting me to take a picture of you, the light of the sunset was perfect and that smile on your lips still takes my breath away.”

Sacha worshipped the picture with a warm smile on his lips, while he also looked at it. Only after moments he had got it that Lando was eyeing him with the same smile. When their eyes met, their smiles only grew even brighter and they lost each other in their eyes.

“I still remember that afternoon. It was such a great, hot summer day. We had so much fun by your uncle’s lake. Later we have grilled some sausages by the campfire, do you still remember about that?” Lando wanted to know from him, while he had got all excited.

“Every second.” Sacha answered, with tears in his eyes thinking about this memory, wishing to be back at that moment. Lando looked surprised suddenly, tilted his head and his voice did almost break, when he squeaked “This song, I also remember it.”

The Brit meant the ringtone, Sacha only had when he was calling him. “We have listened to it that whole summer long.” Lando said all excited and his smile grew even bigger. “I know. I only have it when you are calling me, so I remember about that summer and especially that day with you every time.”

Now also tears were glistening in Lando’s eyes, while they beamed at each other. Out of nowhere Lando was taking his hand suddenly and he took him with him, when he ran over to their Bluetooth speaker, connected it with his phone and soon the song of their lives was playing loudly.

Together they were dancing around the room, were hitting all the wrong tones, while they were singing along to it. When the song got quieter in the end, finally stopped completely just to start from new again, Sacha suddenly found himself in Lando’s arms again. Being as close as never before.

His heart stopped to beat once again, when Lando cupped his face between his palms, looked him deep into his eyes. All slowly he closed the distance between the two of them, till his lips carefully met his and he kissed him all gently and with so many feelings that it brought tears into Sacha’s eyes.

Relieved and full of happiness, Lando leaned his forehead against his boyfriend, giving him one of his cute, cheeky smiles he adored so much and really only he got from him. “I love you, Sash.” Lando whispered so close against his skin.

“I love you too, Lando.” Sacha whispered in response, before he moved the tip of his nose over Lando’s and caused them both so to giggle happily. And something was telling him that the saved pictures in the folder on his laptop won’t get less in the next time.

#Lando Norris #Sacha Fenestraz #Boyfriends #Dorks in love #Love is in the air #From friends to lovers #Fanfiction time

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twittytelly · 5 years

Text

Bandstands and Daydreams

Steve Rogers X Peggy Carter

A/N: Just wanna quickly say thanks for the love for 'An Act of Aggression' – it was so nice to see you love reading it s much as I loved writing it! This is my contribution as part of @captainrogerrsbeard‘s 2.2k celebration, my prompt was 'Moonlight'. Hope you enjoy this and if you're not already following the wonderful @captainrogerrsbeard, then you should be.

Song mentioned in the fic: Vera Lynn - We'll Meet Again

Summary: The post-war moonlight has Peggy in a contemplative mood. Mostly fluff with some angst at the end.

Warnings: None, but you may hate me for the ending!

The full moon was shining brighter than it had done in years. It didn't make sense Peggy thought to herself. Throughout the war the moonlight had been dull; but now with the blackout lifted and it had the lights of London to compete with, it was almost dazzling. It was as if the fates knew that a great evil had been defeated and was joining in with the celebrations.

It had also been a long time since Peggy could remember London being so relaxed and joyful. The once dark and quiet streets were abuzz with giggles and chatter: with love reunited and new love forging - in fact Peggy had never known the Stork Club be so full. While Peggy had anticipated a peaceful walk, she could not help but chuckle at the other couples who had the same thoughts she had. Unable to be separated from their sweethearts long after the dance halls had closed, they had taken to Hyde Park for a romantic stroll.

Peggy looked up and met Steve's piercing blue gaze, which he immediately broke with a nervous blush. Peggy stifled a giggle.

“After everything that you've done, the great Capitan America still doesn't know how to speak to women.”

“Well, the great Captain America never thought the incredible Agent Carter would want to dance with him.”

Against her better judgement, Peggy couldn't help but swoon. Despite the serum; despite the countless acts of bravery; despite taking down The Red Skull single-handedly, Steve was still that skinny guy she had fallen in love with in the back of that car on that fateful day in New York. The world would always remember Steve as Captain America, but Peggy would always think of him as the good man who would always put himself on the line for what he believed in.

“What are you smiling at?”

“I can't believe that we finally got to do this” Peggy confessed. “Throughout the war I refused to let myself become distracted by anything or anyone. And when you brought that plane down I thought that we had missed our chance.”

“Tonight has been like a dream come true” Steve agreed “It would've been perfect if I could actually dance” he muttered.

Peggy suddenly stopped walking and grabbed both of Steve's hands, forcing him to look her in the eye.

“Steve don't you ever doubt that you are the right partner for me. Tonight has been too good to be true. I don't want the greatest dancer, I want the man who refuses to run away from a fight, I want you.”

“Peggy I...”

Whatever Steve wanted to say was soon forgotten as Peggy got on her tiptoes to bridge the gap between them and press her red lips against his. As he kissed her back, she let go of his hands and wrapped her arms around his neck while Steve placed his free hands on her waist and pulled her in as close as he could.

The kiss came to it's natural end, but both Steve and Peggy held each other close, taking each other in, committing each other to memory, as if ending this moment would mean that this had never happened.

But then Peggy spotted something in the distance and an idea sprang to mind.

“Well the club was so crowded that you never had a chance to dance properly. But if you're so insistent on being the perfect dancer then I suggest that you get some practice.”

Before Steve had the chance to process what Peggy had said, she gripped his hand tighter and almost dragged him to their destination, the bandstand.

Watching Peggy walk up the steps into the bandstand, Steve blushed as his insecurities came flooding over him.

“But there's no music...”

“I'll hum something, don't worry I'll take it slowly.”

“But I don't know what to do...”

“Just follow my lead, I'll be gentle.”

“But there are people about...”

“Look around Steve, everyone is too wrapped up in their own courtships to care. And frankly if they want to watch, let them watch. I don't give a damn. I spent too long fighting for freedom to worry about what some stranger might think of me.”

“You're right” Steve said as he ascended the steps. “My darling, may have this dance” he asked holding out his arm. Peggy reached out and took his hand again.

“It would be my honour Captain Rogers” she replied playfully, with a smile so radiant Steve didn't believe that it was real.

Humming We'll Meet Again Peggy and danced the night away with Steve. Truthfully Steve was better than he thought he was. He just lacked the confidence. They never noticed whether or not they were being watched, for as far as they were aware the world only existed in the bandstand. Peggy did not believe that it would be possible to be this happy and was in a dreamlike state. She took a step back and closed her eyes...

...Peggy slowly opened her eyes, looking across the empty bandstand she sighed and wiped the tears from her eyes. The cool spring air and laughter from a couple sitting on a nearby bench dragging her back to reality.

“Why are you doing this to yourself Carter?” She muttered to herself. What happened had happened and she could not go back. Because of his actions the world had changed. It was now her job to make sure that his sacrifice was not in vain.

Composing herself, Peggy looked up at the night sky.

The full moon was shining brighter than it had done in years. It was as if the Steve was looking down on the happy couples of London and was smiling upon them, pleased that his actions had caused this. Peggy smiled to herself bittersweetly, before she let Steve's radiance guide her home. They may have missed their chance, but Captain Steven Rogers would never be truly gone.

#crb2200 #Steve Rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x peggy carter #steggy #Steve Rogers #peggy carter #steve x peggy #captain America fanfiction #captain america #Chris Evans #Hayley Atwell

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shayanyaan · 4 years

Text

Two Eleven Super

“London is very human-scale,” I am quick to pitch for one of my favorite cities in the world.

Her eyes widen and her face lights up. She nods her head vigorously and points her finger at me, in complete agreement. This is the moment in a conversation when one person articulates perfectly what the other person was thinking but couldn’t quite put into words. B and I have been explaining to each other how both of us are more comfortable living in cities where we can walk or take public transport.

“Oh gosh London, yes! Seeing a London trip on my schedule always fills me with immense warmth. Imagine being able to walk around a city slowly absorbing all that it has to offer, the sights, the sounds, the traditions.”

They say never meet your celebrity heroes because you’ll inevitably find something disappointing. I think the same applies to some of the great cities of the world. But both of us conclude hands down that London does not fall in this category.

“Actually London is not even a celebrity. London is a reliable old friend. A friend that has not lost their sense of culture and tradition. The monuments, the churches ...”

“.....and the bridges across the Thames - each one steeped in history.” We are finishing each other's sentences now. “The railway stations. The tube - a subterranean metropolis beneath a metropolis. The Mind the Gap jokes.”

“And what about the black cabs and then … and then the red double decker buses. Oh the red buses - what an icon! They say tourists take the tube but real Londoners take the bus.”

“Aha! You’re probably right. Flocks of pigeons on Trafalgar square, the shops on Oxford Street.”

“And you can’t forget the ever present murky skies, steady rain, rippled puddles, umbrella bearing pedestrians.”

“Of course you just had to mention the Great British weather!” A disapproving look is thrown. The entire body of humor surrounding the British weather is a road we agree not to go down.

---

I continue to quiz B on some of the other cities that she thought would fit the human-scale bill. New York inevitably comes up as a place she has not only travelled to but lived in. I am glad she brought up New York. Now New York is not an old friend. New York is a person you know you shouldn’t fall for, but you do anyway. There is something about the pace and the madness that sets New York apart from the rest of the US. Something about the people, coming from all corners of the world. To make a living, or even half a living. American dream and all that.

In New York you are acutely aware of the class divide that exists in society. New York is dirty. The subway is full of creaking old trains. New York has JFK and LaGuardia both of which are dismal at best and soul destroying at worst. Oh and Penn Station. Never has there been a more classic case of the mighty having fallen. A complete and utter hell hole out of some post apocalyptic world.

But somehow it all works. Barely. And that is where New York absolutely has you. As you walk around the city, you peel back the layers and beneath all the flaws and scars, you will find a genuinely captivating person. A person that knows how to push your buttons and make you forget the pandemonium, if only for a split second. Through the dollar pizzas on the street corners. Through the sheer magic of Central Park and the museums. Through the Manhattan skyline; hands down the best skyline in the world. Standing next to the Hudson, under the Brooklyn Bridge, with Lady Liberty keeping a quiet watch from a distance, you will be powerless as New York sucks you in. One glittering high rise at a time. Dreamy eyed, you cannot help but stare in wonderment. Hundreds of floors, thousands of windows. What goes on inside? And the lights! Yes so many lights. What could be a better tribute to Tesla, Faraday and the like?

“In general, the east coast of the United States is on a much more human-scale. Relatively small states with trains taking you across borders within a couple of hours at the most.”

“Going west of maybe Illinois, they started drawing great big rectangles for states.”

“And then there’s Texas. Vast open skies in an almost revolting shade of blue. Just as vast are the expanses of highway, further than the eye could see, or care to see. Wide, long and monotonous. Not a single human-scale building in sight”

“And who the hell builds highways passing through the center of a city!? Makes going to get some milk feel like a great expedition to the other side of the world.”

More chuckles.

Then a brief silence, during which I am suddenly reminded of where I am - in a lounge on the upper deck of an A380. A massive ship hurtling through the ether, pushing the speed of sound. A big TV screen near where I am standing silently glares back at me indicating that -50 degrees is but a mere 10 meters from where I am standing. Yet here we are, B and I, chatting like two friends catching up over coffee.

But of course, we are not friends. Not even acquaintances. She is on the Emirates cabin crew. And I am just a passenger.

---

Back at my seat, halfway through an episode of Chernobyl, I pause to stare out of the window. Beyond the wing, which seems to stretch out to eternity, a smudge of orange is forcing its way through the royal blue of the sky. I can hear the muffled yet reassuring boom from the four Rolls Royce engines. It is then that I realize that there is nothing about the A380 that is human-scale. There is nothing about the skies which she inhabits that is human-scale. I've travelled on the beloved Super dozens of times. Yet I continue to be amazed at the size and scale with which she operates. Devouring continents and swallowing oceans. Bringing the other side of the world just a little closer to home.

A friend of mine often describes journeys on the A380 as the closest we can get to the long sea voyages on gigantic ocean liners in the 1930s. And he is right. Two decks with so much space to stretch out. Bars, lounges, showers - no expense spared in ensuring luxury. Imagine peering out of the window from your first class cabin on the Queen Mary and seeing nothing but vast open sea. Right now I am doing exactly the same. Only from 36000 feet above the Earth, and all I can see is the vast open sky. Far below, Moscow and St Petersburg slip behind us. Scandinavia and the Atlantic Ocean lie ahead. As we burn more fuel, over North America, we will eventually settle in the exclusive airspace of flight level 410.

The Boeing 747 is a work of art. Sheer poetry. The Airbus A380 however, is a lesson in outsmarting the laws of Physics. It is an absolute whale of a plane that looks like it should never leave the surface of the Earth in the first place. But somehow it does, through the most languid and sluggish of take offs. Once up at cruising altitude though, it is steady ship all the way to your destination. The ability to punch through the sky without even the faintest of trembles is simply unmatched. I continue to stare wistfully out of the window, thinking about how much I’ll miss the A380 when she’s gone. She’s right up there with the Concorde in that nothing like this will ever be built in my lifetime.

---

Resting my head on one of the fluffiest pillows ever to have taken flight, I gaze at the roof of the cabin - tiny twinkling stars gently coaxing me to drift off into a deep sleep. And frankly, it is not hard to. The bed is completely flat and the mattress is more comfortable than the one I have at home. The blanket is ever so soft. The fake gold and wood around the windows is not something I’d furnish my home with, yet up here in the sky, it somehow adds to the coziness. From my own little cocoon, I can see neither the aisle nor other TV screens. Not a single window shade in the cabin is raised. I don’t remember the last time I fell asleep on a plane without an eye mask. All I can hear are the engines whirling away, and the hushed sound of the air beating against the fuselage - no more than a relaxing white noise.

In the moments between lying down and falling asleep, I am thinking about the countless journeys I’ve made with Emirates over the last two decades. Leaving home as often as I’ve had to, I’ve come to really treasure the sense of familiarity that an Emirates flight brings to me. I’ve never stopped to think about it before but there is a certain warmth and tenderness you feel when you have an old faithful travel companion to share your journeys with. And Emirates has been that companion for me, helping me wipe away the homesickness. Slowly at first, then all at once. The boarding music that says “Hello Tomorrow”. The inflight announcements that say “Tayaran Al Emarat”. The reassuring voice of Sir Tim Clark answering questions on the default podcast channel. The wavy curves on the cabin wallpaper. The cabin crew with their brown blazers and their red hats. When choosing an airline to fly, it is hard to look past this comfort of familiarity resulting from a bond first formed unwittingly, many years ago. And strengthened over numerous journeys from one side of the planet to the other, including this one. Before I can process any more thoughts, I slip into a happy and peaceful sleep. We are probably somewhere over the North Atlantic. But in this moment, it hardly matters.

---

Six hours have passed. B is on hand to wake me for dinner. It seems the crew has saved the best meal till the very end. Three courses this evening, starting with a chick-pea salad that doesn’t make you hate your life with its dreariness. I politely refuse the alcohol but ask for a piece of garlic bread on the side. Which is brought to me, warm, from a basket lined with cloth. The main course is served with the Jeera rice cooked in just the right amount of butter. The ratio of jeera to rice - perfect. The Rajma has the power to rival any dhaba in North India and along with it is a second curry made with melt-in-your-mouth soft paneer. Actual phulkas to go on the side, instead of pita.

And if you're going to go full North Indian with your meal, you need some achaar. Which obviously is on my tray as well. Emirates just knows how to serve Indian food. If I had any doubts about this, they are well and truly shattered when B brings the dessert. Four of the finest pieces of Rasgulla. Sometimes you have a meal so sublime that you are moved to shedding a tear or two. This AVML has been one such.

I call B over one last time to thank her for everything. She passes me a brownie, one very similar to those I’d been wolfing down earlier while talking to her in the lounge. This of course, brings the widest of smiles to my face. Not because I like brownies. But most certainly because of the fact that she had noticed. And remembered. The crew has been absolutely stellar on this flight.

---

Business class. A crew that knows how to pronounce your ridiculously long last name. A crew that has time to engage in conversations with you. Meals served on crisp white table cloths. Meals that come in courses. Flat beds to stretch your legs. Flat beds to rest your weary soul. On a grueling ultra long haul flight across 10 time zones, almost anything that seeks to make you feel more earthly is highly appreciated.

This has been Emirates Two Eleven Super - Dubai to Houston in just under seventeen hours, albeit the best seventeen hours of my life.

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6505-blog1 · 5 years

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The Greatest Rock/Metal Albums of the 21st Century.

21st century marks the most diverse decade for rock and metal continuation. Absorbing, if not radiated by the long progenitors from Led Zeppelin who cranked up their amps and Black Sabbath that turn it out murky and sinister grim, to the dazzling theatrical persona of KISS and Motley Crue, to the new level heavy metal confronter of Judas Priest and Iron Maiden, to the head crusher of Motorhead and Metallica, to the destructo maniac of Slayer and Kreator, to the prog menu offerer of King Crimson and Tool, and finally aligned to have some peculiar layers and brooding tendency of Korn. We have come a long way. Yet our engine keeps raging.

I have cumulated the finest, the most influential, and the most prominent albums released in the new millenium by the descendents that took their predecessors to a whole different level, sustain the genre, and move myriads of people to mosh.

In a particular order:

10. Avenged Sevenfold - City of Evil (Warner Bros, 2005).

Rolling Stones magazine has named the sonically-punk with the flames of Iron Maiden, City of Evil on the last number of their 100 Greatest Album of All Time list. That should be a fair consideration since the extravagants like Beast and the Harlot, Bat Country, and Seize the Day altogether with the rest of the setlist ultimately transced the whole level and the destiny of the band as a leading force of eliticians in not so distant future. The 11 tracks have also successfully resurrected the triumph of classic guitar virtuosso portrait demonstrated on 80's as the talisman, Synyster Gates embarked over tons of appealing riffages and dueling solos which was buried after Nirvana and grunge breaktrough on the early 90's. Veteran and Ozzy Osbourne/Black Label Society guitarist, Zakk Wylde acknowledged him as a "Torchbearer" for arguably giving a birth and cultivating the guitar culture to the next generation.

9. Behemoth - The Satanist (Nuclear Blast, 2014).

The tenth album of Polish most profound extreme metal giant after Adam "Nergal"s battle with leukemia. Unlike the speed and precision exhibited over prior releases, the coagulated dense and horified cultish doom are found intensely throughout the setlist as to explicit the heretic messages. The result is astonishing and stronger than ever. More to add, The Satanist is pure, cathartic, flawlessly emotional, carefully-savage, and conquering by its complexity of repertoire within vivid and cinematical gradation as multi-dimensional tracks Messe Noire, In the Absence ov Light, Ora Pro Nobis Lucifer, and the leadoff Blow Your Trumpets Gabriel ravage in none but diabolical fervor. This album expansive flair has comprehensively unfolded the darkest caverns and creates the new standard of underground craftmanship.

8. Bring Me the Horizon - Sempiternal (RCA/Epitaph, 2013).

I wouldn't believe that i need to make Sempiternal in the cut. Who would have guessed? But i will beat every negation towards it. It is the album that eventually transforms Bring Me the Horizon from bunch of hipsters to one of the most important unit in the 21st century modern rock landscape. A year and a half after the release, Oliver Sykes and co. took over the world attention of rocking Wembley Arena, the same monumental venue where Queen — one of the biggest rock band in the history — was there doing the same story. It was approximately 12.000 attendees which made Sykes stated: "So this is our biggest show ever". The soaring Can You Feel My Heart, the furious The House of Wolves, the euphoric Shadow Moses, and the melodic of Sleepwalking are undeniably the new testament of rock music.

7. Lamb of God - Ashes of the Wake (Epic, 2004).

Count how many metal bands on the planet started after invented Laid to Rest or Now You've Got Something to Die For! It was countless. Lamb of God has became the crowned icon of "New Wave American Heavy Metal" and one of the most distinctive band in the scene. Their ferocious riffs, blistering drum works, lyrical contents, sound, even how to sing like Randy Blythe are largely imitated and seem to be the ideal menifesto of modern metal anatomy with obviously Ashes of the Wake as the highest pedestal. It contains tremendous chaos of 11 front-to-back blazing tracks immensely portrayed after Mark Morton - Willie Adler's virtuosity and of course, Chris Adler's voraciousity. Implying both abundance and how well they grasp the roots that will less likely be outnumbered.

6. Mastodon - Leviathan (Relapse, 2004).

We are now talking (and unravelling) the true genius minds of Atlanta-based extraordinary quartet. The newborn Metallica, Mastodon — the group that always exceed anyone's expectation — has seamlessly ranged their pinaccle from sludge to prog to avant-garde to even folk with staggering exponents of highly sophisticated masterpiece. With any fruition that comes in, the sheer Leviathan is believed as the opener tap. Written after Herman Merville's 1851 novel entitled "Moby Dick", the 46-minutes concept album is nothing but endless breathtaking experience of capturing bizarre Ode to the sea soundtrack. Blood and Thunder, I Am Ahab, and Aqua Dementia are torrent of forceful yet fascinating guttural power chords with Brann Dailor's tracherous drum tempo reflecting the theme while Iron Tusk sets sail upon muscular stoner riff and Naked Burn for menacing-tactical intro and flaunted visceral jarring chorus are hulking the imagery of the beast. Until the epic Hearts Alive with a glimpse of Metallica's The Call of Ktulu patiently reigns and all the greatness rendered.

5. Evanescence - Fallen (Wind-up, 2003).

The album that made Evanescence — a small town band from Arkansas — a megastar in the blink of an eye. It was the second semester of 2003 where the breakthrough hit single, Bring Me to Life played million times on the radio around the globe (and MTV as well) picturing the female face lead singer and her gleaming voice, Amy Lee who started the band with the co-founder guitarist, Ben Moody (though the relationship didn't survive and separation happened in the midst of suporting Fallen tour). The fame that nowhere expected begun when the terrific duo met on a camp and cliche of having the same musical taste brought them to finally sign the major label Wind-up and dominated the world stages in a brief. Fallen with the added values of enchanting piano, symphonical strings livery, and haunting soundscape that most nu-metal groups didn't have at that time effortlessly stood-out and arised in comparison to even Linkin Park. Other songs served like the down-tuned goth Going Under and the everlasting ballad My Immortal are only legitimating their popularity.

4. Ghost - Prequelle (Loma Vista, 2018).

In our nearly five decades of heavy music, such names as Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd, Van Halen with their fantastic works and spirits have became a catalyst that will be remembered greatly in the faraway future for causing an enourmous impact to our community. Those that have bloomed and paved the way many artists to follow. And if there is a chance for this millenium bands to extend the list, Ghost will be the first to step up the grace.

This year, their most recent release Prequelle has been nominated for The Best Rock Album and its single Rats for Best Rock Song of 61st Grammy. An award that should be familiar since they have been winning it two times with Infestissumam (2013) — their second major label album — as The Best Hard Rock/Metal Album and Cirice — the single taken from previous album Meliora (2015) — as Best Metal Performance. A peak of a decade existence for one superior man behind the wheel, Tobias Forge. Appear himself as a satanic pope, Papa Emeritus I, II, III, Zero, and now with the newest fully renowned ascencion clergy Cardinal Copia has completely shaped the band's identity. But the latest Prequelle has more than to be attained to an award. Forge's admiration to film makes no surprise if any substance on the record is prone to get visualized and draw medieval realms so alive and real. He could blend joyous disco with scattered shock rock backbone for Dance Macabre, provide brilliant exotic pop-esque instrumental opus for Miasma, and close all the novelty and intellegiousness by a soothing grand finale of Life Eternal. That is the last strike.

3. Greenday - American Idiot (Reprise, 2004).

With the overwhelmed mainstream-breaking punk rock hit single American Idiot, it was an album (a concept album, for specific) everyone knew which handfully restored a big disappointment both sales and critical of their previous release. Taking the power back after four years gap with anti-Bush vitriol narration over long and merged tracks was everything we could expect from an ambition. Performing sarkastic American-post 9/11 political singable outcry and dragging down to emotionally-related suburban decline on Holiday/Boulevard of Broken Dreams, followed by californian sunset accoustic staccato and straighforward revv Give Me Novacaine/She's A Rebel, a love story of Whatsername where a street punk main actor St. Jimmy fell and how it all ended on Homecoming.

The grandiose worths 16 millions selling CD is the anthem of this generation where a generation ago pridefully have The Clash with the classic London Calling.

2. Slipknot - Iowa (Roadrunner, 2001).

The most brutal and confrontational album of 21st century nothing to this day can bear. That is the deal. A remorseless turmoil just from the first second of welcoming to the house of pain intro, (515) to the last 15 minutes epilogue of magnificent unrelenting drama title track, Iowa. Please recognize the insolent hate mantra "Here we go again motherfuckers" as Corey Taylor opens up and rips off anything with hammer to the face misanthropic followed track, People = Shit that seems a vulgar warning to extend the torture of their 1999 debut phenomenal self titled album. But things got tenfold. They were all damaged animals, making it excuriatingly worst instead, and wanted any living to hear them. That they fuck what trend you live up on bludgeoning bestial Heretic Anthem, that they are adamant bastards you can't bleach their darkness out on atmospherical assault New Abortion, that killing is their primal instinct on grinding jaw-breaker scorn Disasterpieces, that they are fucking obsolete machines on the scorching psychosis Everything Ends. There lies Neurosis-ian dressed Gently and never eschew Grammy nominated singles, Left Behind and My Plague.

All the violent rampage should be addressed to Ross Robinson (producer) for being able to wrap up the devastating times the band encountered in the studio and that was how its ruthless resonated the world where many people are pissed-off to everything. An absolute impossible album to be re-recorded due to its hell of organic material. Yet apart of any malevolence, Iowa is sadly, a gift to liberate your heart and soul.

Honourable mentions:

System of a Down - Toxicity (American/Columbia, 2001).

Converge - Jane Doe (Equal Vision, 2001).

My Chemical Romance - The Black Parade (Reprise, 2006).

1. Linkin Park - Hybrid Theory (Warner Bros, 2000).

The world seriously gives us no chance to break. After Lemmy, Bowie, now we have lost the most beautiful voice that represents our generation.

May rest in peace and honour, Chester Bennington.

We miss you everyday, and we do care if someone whose time runs out is you.

The album that took nu-metal to a whole different level forever and highly contributed to shape the sound that outbursted the 21st century. For two decades, Linkin Park has became the most iconic group on the planet. Breeding the bands like Bring Me the Horizon, Asking Alexandria, and Bullet For My Valentine (with their recent 2018 album, Gravity).

Hybrid Theory (which was the actual name of the band before settling to Linkin Park) is the sublime fusion of heavy metal, alternative rock, hip-hop, pop, and electronica desired only to make a lifetime change. It is truly no derivative. Yet recalling back, it was multiple rejections of label after label before it took off with Don Gillmore (previously worked with Eve 6, Lit, Pearl Jam) to produce the album and pushed the band excessively. It was the part that would not have regretted where all they saw afterwards and going on was all miracle. 28 millions copy sold should be a very serious sensastion everyone must have a seat to talk about. A rock n roll revival after Guns N' Roses's Appetite For Destruction (1987) so to speak. With angst to fuel, Hybrid Theory yielded the catchy single opener One Step Closer, the drug abuse easer Crawling, the unhinged paranoia Papercut, and the most well-known last single sung by anyone In the End. Not to mention its cohesive supplementaries A Place For My Head, Runaway, and My December that blur the foursome due to their equivalent prowess. Admit it, Linkin Park and Hybrid Theory are the gateway to rock and heavy metal empire.

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stylinsonlibrary · 6 years

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HISTORICAL AU FIC REC

50+ fics set in the past

A Word We've Only Heard (6k)

So, where are you headed?” Liam asked, not wanting to sit in awkward silence for their journey. It was twelve hours to Chicago, and that was far too long to sit and not chat with his fellow passenger in front of him.

“Chicago,” he answered, his blue eyes meeting Liam’s own. “It’s home. Been on the road for quite some time now, it’s the first time I’ll be able to sleep in my own bed in almost a month.”

Liam whistled. “You must be pretty excited.”

The man gave a soft smile, which made him look younger than Liam initially expected; he might even still be in his twenties. He wondered what kind of a life this man had led to look so tired until he smiled.

Or, it's 1951, Harry is the owner of a music shop, and Louis is a traveling salesman making his way back home.

I'm Ready to Fall, Love (9k)

Louis doesn't like Harry, except for the fact that he really does.

(Basically: A royal AU with Prince Harry and Stable Boy Louis.)

One Day You'll Say These Words (11k)

Growing up together in Yorkshire has led to a lifelong friendship between Louis Tomlinson, the future Marquess of Rotherham, and Harry Styles, the heir to a viscount. When Harry suddenly inherits his uncle’s title and estate much earlier than expected, Louis must watch his friend struggle under the weight of these new responsibilities, including searching for a wife with a dowry large enough to save his estate. However, sitting idly by as Harry looks for a bride brings some unexpected feelings to the surface.

A friends to lovers story set in the Regency era.

feel my heart beating (12k)

‘90s AU where Louis’ addicted to matchmaking and Harry’s just playing along.

lead me out on the moonlit floor (12k)

In all honesty, Harry was long forgotten, cast aside by a dimpled stranger and too much champagne. He was almost glad, now, that Harry hadn’t come, because he wouldn’t have met this stranger, this tall man who could make his heart flutter with a single glance.

Victorian!AU where Louis is a wealthy lord throwing a masquerade ball for his birthday and Harry is a toymaker who's only confident when he's wearing a mask.

Autumn at Fairbridge Hall (14k)

It is October 1817. Mr. Louis Tomlinson hosts an Autumn Ball and a Fox Hunting Party at his estate Fairbridge Hall, with the intention of finding suitable husbands for his younger sisters.

A Regency AU where Louis does not want to deal with marriage proposals, a stubborn sister and unwelcome guests. The only things he really wants is peace and quiet and..., the handsome Mr. Styles.

To Honor (14k)

Commander Styles leads his men to victory, but at what cost?

Manifest Destiny (15k)

Harry and Louis had fallen into bed together again that night, mouths greedy and hands needy. And now every time Louis stops at Fort Kearney, even if it’s weeks in between, he and Harry spend the night together. The nights are always filled with heat and passion, and it gives Louis something to think on fondly as he rides across the western territories carrying sacks of mail.

They’ve never talked about it, and they’ve never kissed. Louis doesn’t know if he wants either of those things to change, but he knows that his presence in Harry’s life is sporadic at best. Probably best to leave things be.

Or, Louis is a Pony Express rider and Harry runs a station along the trail.

Howls Like A Beast (You Flower, You Feast) (16k)

“You don’t love me,” Louis had said, utterly blasé as he callously fractured the heart of a Harry that was just barely eighteen.

“I do,” Harry had insisted pleadingly, green eyes already watering.

Louis had rolled his eyes, exasperated and flippant in the way only beautiful, young boys could be when faced with the affections of a baby prince. He had run his finger down Harry’s cheek then, had forced him to look into his eyes as he delivered the final blow.

“You’ll change your mind once you’ve seen more of the world,” Louis had teased, pressing a brutally delicate kiss onto Harry’s lovely, pure cheek. “Once you’ve been properly defiled.” He had whispered filthily, delighted by the gasp he heard, the frantic pink blush that had rested high on Harry’s cheeks, the power he had felt at knowing he could make the Crown Prince squirm.

Break Me Down, Build Me Up (16k)

America, as it’s been told, is the world of riches. Men and women alike can come to the land of the free and achieve the American dream, regardless of their background. He wanted nothing more than to create a better life for his sisters, for himself, and perhaps for his future. Harry Styles was never a part of the plan.

[or: Louis moves his family to America to try and find a better life. Harry finds him instead.]

The Man I Love (17k)

It's the Roaring Twenties, a time of blissful prosperity, overflowing champagne flutes, adrenaline-filled dancing, and the rise of the Jazz Age—and Louis Tomlinson absolutely abhors it all. A stickler for modest classics, jazz is the bane of Louis' existence.

Coincidentally, Harry Styles is the bass player for an underground jazz band.

Or The 1920s AU where Louis is a hardworking, no nonsense paralegal, Harry is in love with the greatest city on earth, Zayn is the enigmatic leader of the band, Niall's just there to make sure everyone's having a good time, and Liam is the barber who started it all.

The People's Playground (17k)

It is 1900 in New York City, and Harry Styles has recently immigrated to America from England. His sister encourages him to take a day off from his life as a factory worker and Harry decides to take a trip to the infamous Coney Island where he literally runs into Louis Tomlinson. It looks like Coney Island will be more than Harry bargained for.

Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart (19k)

Louis and Harry had been childhood best friends, but had been separated by evacuation as the city they grew up in was destroyed around them. Now, twelve years later, they are both back in London, and through chance they meet again. In a time when you can't admit to being gay, for fear of arrest, admitting to your best friend that you love them seems like an insurmountable obstacle.

Featuring boxer Harry and mechanic Louis, much pining, and a lot of post war Britain

No One Like You (19k)

Dear Niall,

I was glad to have the chance to talk with you again at the AHA conference. Your idea that the Musee D’Orsay Tomlinson painting is in fact not a self-portrait is an intriguing one, and I may have discovered something that will have a bearing on that theory.

Some background: as you may remember, I’ve been researching for a book I’m writing about Harry Styles. I’ve been in communication with Styles’ last living descendant, who is in possession of a trunk that her family believed to have belonged to Styles himself. It held some personal items she presumes to be his, including two unmounted paintings and a small collection of letters.

Upon spending the last few days in Provins studying these items, I believe there to be a connection between Tomlinson and Styles, and I would very much like your opinion.

Are you up for a trip to France?

Sincerely, Liam Payne

Where Liam and Niall are art historians discovering the truth about two nineteenth century painters on opposite sides of an artistic divide.

Dance Like Warriors On A Battlefield (20k)

Down in the arena, the triumphant gladiator places his foot on the back of the loser, holding him there as he waits for instruction on his next move. Kill or let live. It’s barbaric, really, the bloodlust involved in this sport. Louis is pretty sure that if it wasn’t for his distaste for the killing there would be a lot more blood soaking that sand.

As it is, his father rarely gives the kill order anymore. He gives the order to let the loser live. Louis rolls his eyes, turning away. He doesn’t miss the way the gladiator’s eyes linger on him.

threadbare (20k)

Harry Styles was eight years old when Louis Tomlinson kept him from falling into a machine in a Manchester textile mill.

He was 18 years old when nothing, not even the threat of death, could keep Harry from falling in love with Louis.

Un Verso Que Hiciste De Mi (20k)

Harry froze as he looked up to his handler’s face. He found himself staring at the most beautiful twin pools of blue he’d ever see, and had to take a second to breathe before he remembered what to say.

“Please, don’t kill my friend,” he whispered.

Louis looked over at the red headed man. “You are to go back to your manor, and tell his family he will only be brought back if my ransom is met.”

or a Scottish Borderlands AU where Louis is a laird that kidnaps his rival’s betrothed, and Harry just happens to be that betrothed.

Damn the Dark, Damn the Light (20k)

“Why is this face of beauty ringing so true?” The genuine confusion in Harry’s voice causes Louis’ chest to painfully twinge. “You’re a complete stranger in my eyes, William Shakespeare, but not in my heart. How is that possible?”

Louis wants to live out every romance plot he has ever written in his own life. He wants to be the protagonist of his own narrative, the hero who finds true love and gets his happy ending. Instead, Louis is stuck with only dreaming of such wild fantasies and writing them down. He can create entire romances in his dreams, yet he can never live one.

let it shine under the morning star (22k)

It's the summer of 1891, and Bruges has significantly more angry swans and accidental Irish revolutionaries than Harry was anticipating being faced with on his summer holiday.

the dead things we carry (25k)

September ‘49

He hasn’t seen him since that day in France, that horrible muddy day where for one terrifyingly long second, Louis really thought he was going to die. He winces with the phantom pain, the hand not holding his cane going to his stomach automatically, remembering the franticness, the tenderness, of Harry’s hands while Louis was bleeding out.

This is the man who saved Louis’ life.

For one second, Louis fears Harry won’t recognise him, but his eyes widen when he turns to his left and they meet Louis’. He takes a step forward, reaching for him with a shaky hand before stopping himself.

“Louis,’ Harry says with a shudder and Louis doesn’t think his name has ever carried more weight.

This is the only man Louis ever thought about kissing for real.

“Oh,” Mrs. Padley says, clearly taken aback. “You two know each other?”

There are some things people never fully come home from. Until, one day, if they’re lucky, home comes to them.

Is it too much to ask for something great? (26k)

It is the dawn of the sixties and the whole sexual revolution may as well never happened since Harry still has to muffle his groans in the pillow when he fucks. God forbid neighbours would caught on. But maybe he wants to scream, maybe he wants his moans to carry through the wall and maybe he even likes to think that they would irk the person there somehow, but no. No such thing happens with Louis, because apparently he is the only person on the planet who doesn't care who you fuck. Being a fag in Greenwich Village is great, lots of fun, being a fag who is in love with his painfully straight best friend Louis? Torture. He should just let the whole thing go. Louis doesn't care for his moans, he produces a lot of them on his own, and those on the other hand haunt Harry's dream, and he's pretty sure that ten days on the road with Louis and Louis alone is actually going to kill him.

And he doesn't even like Beach Boys.

Box of Rain (26k)

that in his free time informally works as a ring boy. Somehow he manages to always get tangled on the ropes and at the same time charm the pants off of all the fighters and patrons. They meet in Manchester in 1977 and, even though they don't seem to have much in common, they... Well, they just sort of click, really.

The one with a friendship ruiner game of Monopoly, Harry always ending up in jail for wanting to save the world, Louis face to face with his archenemy and way too many references to 70s music.

Also staring Zayn as a brooding anarchist punk rocker, Liam as the nerdiest and nicest boxer in all Britain and Niall as a bookmarker that can easily convince people to bet fortunes, but can't make his friends realise their mutual crush on each other.

autumn leaves (27k)

“Brave?” Harry frowns, caught off guard. “No, not particularly.”

“You seem brave,” Louis decides, pushing off the wall and stepping on the butt of his cigarette. “You are strong, and you are not mean. That’s good,” he assures, touching Harry’s arm gently.

“Thank you, but that’s not true,” Harry smiles ruefully. “I’m really not anything special.”

Or, Harry is an American soldier in France during World War II, and Louis is a French waiter that doesn't mean to fall in love with him.

What Happened to 'Never Say Die'? (28k)

The 80s were one of the best decades to be a teenager in America. Just ask anyone who's seen a John Hughes movie. Louis would beg to differ. At least today he would, while he was stuck cleaning out his family's basement - part of his grounding after a senior prank gone wrong. But when he finds a box containing details of the biggest unsolved crime in Luna Hills, he and his friends decide to sneak out for one last adventure before they're all off to college. That is, as long as the mayor, who also happens to be Louis' mother, doesn't stop them before they discover the truth.

Or, a coming of age American AU inspired by classic 80s movies like The Goonies and Stand By Me where everyone has a secret and no one wants to get caught.

the beginning of everything (30k)

“How do you take it?” Harry asked, pouring tea into a cup.

“Just a dash of milk, please,” Louis cast a look over the small table, filled to capacity. “They’re very fond of you.”

Harry ducked his head, grinning. “They’re trying to impress you.”

Louis smiled, shaking his head. “Why would they want to do that?” he asked as he took the cup Harry passed to him, their fingers brushing for an instant.

“Empathy,” Harry said under his breath.

A Belle Époque AU set (mostly) in Paris in which Harry is a struggling artist, in more ways than one, and Louis is a successful theatre critic and a failed writer, more or less.

Our Stable Heart (30k)

Louis Tomlinson had it all. A beautiful mansion in the country-side of London, a well known job in the heart of downtown, and a lovely fiance he would soon marry...

But what happens when Louis' world is turned upside down just from gazing into a pair of dreamy, green eyes?

Something Louis could never have imagined himself...

i could marry that smile you're wearing (34k)

Louis is lost in his thoughts. Harry has found his new purpose in life. Both meet very unexpectedly and it is all full of cliches you can expect.

Ancient Greece AU - Louis as a member of aristocracy and Harry as a common slave.

what this world is about (34k)

An eighties American high school AU; there are first times, football games, and feelings.

Gem and the Hunters: The Treasure of Babylon (34k)

Louis Tomlinson wished, for one thing, his whole life: to find the ancient city of Babylon. After one failed attempt, he swore to never again attempt a search for the city. His friend, Niall Horan never pushed the issue, but when his family finds themselves in trouble, Niall’s only option is to convince Louis to try and find Babylon again.

Niall enlists the help of two famous treasure hunters: Harry and Gemma Styles and their friend Liam Payne. Harry and Gemma love ancient cultures as much as Louis and would give anything to find Babylon. Liam is just along for the ride, running from a shade in his past.

The five embark on the adventure of a lifetime… and find much more than any of them bargained for.

The Boy with the Red Scarf (35k)

It’s 1925 and Harry has left his small home to chase after his father’s footsteps. He wants to be a movie star, make money to keep his family comfortable just like his mother had told him his father had. But when he makes it to Chicago, he finds that people aren’t what they seem. The parties are grand, the women charming, and the money rolls. What he doesn’t understand is that behind that beautiful mask of a city there is something lurking in the shadows.

Starring Harry as a struggling actor and Louis as Al Capone.

If we meet sometime in the after years, my darling, I trust I will find your love still mine. (38k)

1970s AU.

The boy at the dinner table isn’t as much of a stranger as Louis thought, and somewhere between the diners, concerts, and the way the moonlight falls just right, the summer is enough time for realizing just that.

Felt the blood rushing through my veins, I still remember (42k)

Harry is the heir to his father's estate and wealth and he knows he is the most eligible bachelor in all of England. Louis is the stable boy who everyone loves and adores even though he can be a touch too bitter sometimes. They can't stand each other, and the pride of one and the prejudice of the other disallows any other feelings they might have.

Coeur du soleil (48k)

After assuming the throne when the Cardinal dies, Louis becomes King of France in 1661. He thinks he has everything under control and is determined to prove himself the leader he knows France needs, but his plans are quickly thrown aside once he meets a curly haired English Ambassador.

Harry's only job was to observe the King, and he ends up observing a little closer than expected. Featuring Captain Payne of the Royal Musketeers, Ambassador Malik from the Ottoman Empire, and Lord Horan from Ireland.

We're What's Right In This World (48k)

“Why did you talk like that in Brighton? If you weren’t planning on ever telling me?” Louis asked. “Is it because you think you’re going to die?”

“It’s war, Lou,” Harry said finally.

The words were a knife slipped between his ribs. Everything hurt and he was bleeding. He shifted up, his palms cradling Harry’s jaw, his lips against his boy’s. Not kissing, just resting there, so Louis could feel him. “Promise you’ll come back to me.”

Harry’s hands smoothed down the sides of Louis’ body. “You know I can’t do that. I’ll never lie to you.”

“Promise me. We’re going to have our cottage. And our dogs. And our breakfast in the garden where nothing grows because of the wind from the sea. Promise me.”

“I won’t.” Stubborn as always, his boy. “I’ll promise you, I’ll love you all my life. I’ll promise you, you’ll never leave my thoughts. I’ll promise you, you’re my forever and my always. But promising you something I can’t cheapens the things I can.” Or the World War II AU where Harry goes off to fight and all Louis wants to do is be the boy who brings him home.

the last person on earth i could ever marry (50k)

A Pride and Prejudice AU, where Harry is fed up with rich men and Mr Tomlinson is a very rich man.

For the Sake of Propriety (52k)

Louis Tomlinson is the caretaker of an estate that is not truly his, and when his Uncle calls upon him to take it back, Louis knows he will soon be out on the streets with four overly zealous sisters to care for. His only solution: wed the eldest two off and pray for the best. When an even better solution unexpectedly presents itself in the form of the charming Mr. Styles, Louis is faced with a difficult choice. But as with all things in the regency era, reputation very well may threaten to outweigh the fleeting matters of his heart.

Back To You And Tennessee (57k)

Louis Tomlinson rises to rock and roll fame at age twenty three and is thrown into a life of luxury and excess, but being on stage isn’t easy for a boy who has always stuck to the side-lines, and Louis struggles to deal with his new fame as he joins the Grand Ole Opry and is sent out on tour with names like Liam Payne and Elvis Presley. His life takes a turn, however, when his childhood role model, Harry Styles, joins them on tour, and the two become closer than two men in the spotlight are allowed to be.

OR, the one where Louis is Johnny Cash and Harry is June Carter

I Hunger For Your Beautiful Embrace (57k)

Legatus Harry is governor of Capua and Dominus of his estate. He governs with a firm and harsh rule and has never been known to be soft. That is until Louis comes into his life. A beautiful slave who creeps into Harry’s house and heart.

But in the times of Ancient Rome, when sex, wars, and death are the entertainment of the times, life and love are rare commodities.

Paint The Sky With Stars (62k)

On 10 April 1912, Harry Styles boards the finest ship the world has ever seen. Still grieving the death of their mother, he and his sister are being sent to America to live with a callous uncle who cares more about his business connections than family. Harry prepares himself for a long, disappointing voyage alone in his stateroom.

Louis Tomlinson has borrowed and saved, and finally has enough to purchase a Third Class ticket to America. With all of his belongings in a single ruck sack, he boards the Titanic filled with hope for a brighter future. Never one to sit still, he can’t resist exploring the massive ship, and soon goes sneaking into First Class in a stolen steward’s uniform.

By a twist of fate, Louis finds himself in Harry’s stateroom, entranced by the most attractive man he’s ever laid eyes on. He keeps returning day after day, even if he doesn’t understand what it is about Harry that continues pulling him in. That’s all right; Louis has a week to figure it out, and Harry is plenty willing to help.

Except they don’t have a week. They have four days. Because on 15 April, their entire world will be turned upside down.

Or, the historically accurate Titanic AU with a happy ending.

Life Had Just Begun (63k)

Stand up. Breathe. Run. Survive.

Back on his knees, Harry can wipe the blood from his eyes and see again, blurred and in slow motion, but he can see. He doesn’t think, he just moves. He gets to his feet, stumbling as his brain goes white in time with the lightning strike.

Run. Run. Run.

It’s 1985. All the cool kids are wearing Members Only jackets and acid wash jeans. The gay rights movement might be gaining traction around the country, but for a small town in Colorado, even listening to Queen is an invitation for a beating. Louis Tomlinson’s life is turned upside down when he comes face to face with the afterlife, and is given one seemingly simple mission: save Harry Styles.

The Art of Being a Gentleman (64k)

Out of all four of the Styles children, Harry has always been the most adored. He is the handsome, intelligent, and oh so charming golden child of the family, the perfect son who will soon be married to the perfect woman, a beauty queen named Victoria Astaire. Despite how loved he is among all who reside in the affluent town of Alton, his siblings absolutely despise him. In order to stain his squeaky-clean reputation and get their traditional, old fashioned parents to despise him as much as they do, they devise a plan that involves Harry’s giving nature, the desperation of a mother and father, and a mischievous boy who doesn’t give a damn about what’s proper.

Such Good Luck (66k)

Louis smiles at Harry’s words, leaning into his touch. “Tell me again.”

Smiling, Harry takes Louis into his arms. Pressing gentle kisses to his face, Harry murmurs, “In six months’ time, I will have my twenty-fifth birthday. On that day, my portion of the inheritance will become legally mine. And I plan that very day to announce to my family that I have found love.” Harry chuckles as he runs his lips lightly along Louis’ cheekbone. “That, in fact, I found love when I was twenty-one years old, and that I have loved and been loved every day since.”

Or, an Edwardian AU where Harry is a young aristocratic lord and Louis is a working class dairy farmer. Secrets are a necessary part of their relationship, but Louis has one that could topple their whole world.

Adore You (66k)

“We invited our new acquaintances from uptown. You’ve simply got to meet their oldest son!” said his mother with a flourish, and suddenly it became abundantly clear as to why his parents had so adamantly demanded he join them in Deansville for the entirety of the summer.

Against his wishes, Harry spends the holidays at his family’s summer estate, and is reluctantly pulled into a courtship he didn’t ask for. Harry doesn’t want to get married, but Louis does. They don’t fit, but then again they really, really do.

Vaguely set in the 1920’s. Headpieces, jazz, fashionable canes, and flapper dresses, and that.

The World Turned Upside Down (71k)

In September 1984, Harry Styles starts at Manchester Polytechnic with two goals: to take pictures and to join the Lesbian and Gay Society. He’s never paid much attention to the news, but everyone he meets in Manchester supports the miners. He realises how right they are when he meets Louis Tomlinson, a striking miner who flirts with him. A month later they are both at the founding meeting of Manchester Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners, trying to bring down the government. Through letters and visits they build a relationship, in a world very much not of their own choosing.

Manchester and Doncaster in the 1980s are grim, hopeful and alive. Niall is president of the Young Labour club, Nick Grimshaw is in love with the singer of an up and coming band, Fizzy wants to know more about the women of Greenham Common and Harry and Louis are brave.

A Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners/Pride AU.

modern love (72k)

It's August 9th, 1985. "Shout" by Tears for Fears is the top song on the Billboard charts, Back to the Future has been the #1 film in the country for five weeks straight, and Harry has just moved to what he believes to be the shittiest town in the Midwest.

Louis has been wasting away in East Chicago for over five years, Harry is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to him, and both of them are hiding a dangerous secret from their best friend: they're, like, totally sprung on each other.

Chasing Empty Spaces (79k)

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

This Feels A Lot Like Love (80k)

Harry didn’t expect for his senior year to be filled with a blue-eyed boy with sharp cheekbones and an even sharper tongue. Then again, he didn’t expect to fall in love either.

Closeted romance, false promises and stolen kisses ensues. Set in the 90’s era.

Victorian Boy (81k)

Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the Bilsdale fox hunt in York, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis' bed. But when secrets from Louis' dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn't the only one being hunted.

Atlas At Last (83k)

He doesn’t know what he had been expecting out of the road trip itself besides burping contests and too much shitty gas station food with Oli and Stan, but in the brief moment before Harry ambles up his driveway, Louis idly wonders if this is about to become some sort of Gay Coming of Age story.

Maine to California in ten days. In which Zayn’s an open-shirt hippie they meet somewhere in Ohio, Liam’s the pastor’s son running away from home, and Niall’s the number they call on the bathroom wall.

It’s 1978. Harry and Louis are just trying to get to San Fran in time for the Queen concert.

And down the long and silent street (86k)

The year is 1881 and if you’re alone in this world you might as well be dead, because starving dogs have no mercy.

Or: Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis' past finally catches up with him.

Coax the Cold (86k)

England, 1897.

English Professor Louis Tomlinson’s passion for the occult has been a source of mockery and derision for most of his life. When he hears whispers of a travelling freak show newly established in London claiming the existence of a monstrous sea hybrid, half-man, half-fish, Louis sees it as his ticket to credibility amongst his peers. The summer he spends undercover working on the show, however, gives him much more than that.

Here In The Afterglow (88k)

“If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have many friends,” Louis whispers, the blossom of insecurity in his stomach unfurling and clawing its way into his throat.

Harry is silent for a long time, and then he speaks; a soft, slow uncurl that makes Louis’ stomach shake. “I’ll be your friend.”

1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

Resist Everything Except Temptation (100k)

The lethargic sound of heels clicking against wood resonated across the sea. Footsteps descended the staircase, every assured step creating a menacing aura as it grew closer. Perspiration gathered along Louis’ palms as the rhythmic sound halted in front of him.

“Captain,” Malik greeted.

Louis watched out of his peripheral as Malik’s boots shuffled back a few steps. Sweat matted the hair along the nape of Louis’ neck as he waited for something to happen. He felt as if a sharp blade was twisting his gut as the silence became tangible. There was a metallic slide of a sword being pulled out of its sheath, the sound startling Louis out of his cocoon of sterile shock. His shoulders jumped as the tip of a blade flattened underneath his jaw. Louis’ distorted reflection stared back at him in the polished metal. Engraved rose petals twisted his appearance as they crawled up the length of the sword. The sword lifted and took Louis’ chin with it.

Standing in front of Louis was Captain Styles.

OR The one where Louis is the commodore's son who is forced to become a part of Harry's crew when he is captured.

Butterfly Gun (100k)

Harry has never been much of a fighter, but—as always—where Louis Tomlinson is concerned, a lot of things stop being true.

1940's AU. Even after six years apart, they can't forget their shared wartime childhood.

Through Eerie Chaos (102k)

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

Landslide (143k)

The year is 1976. In November, Jimmy Carter will take control of the White House. Americans are meeting Laverne & Shirley at their apartment in Milwaukee. Hotel California diverges from the reign of Kool & the Gang. And the FBI is still reeling from the repercussions of Watergate, the tragedy at Wounded Knee, Operation Family Secrets, and the strategic terrors of the anti-cult movement.

That's what Special Agent Harry Styles has been told is the basis of his mission to an abandoned farmhouse in rural New Hampshire.

With his hair grown out long and his shirt untucked, he's going undercover to do reconnaissance on suspected cult leader Louis Tomlinson, who has led a group of people out into the middle of nowhere, leaving no record of the life he'd had before. All Harry knows is what the agency gave him: Tomlinson's name, and instructions to figure out what he's doing with the eleven people he brought with him.

In the year that Harry spends undercover and under Louis Tomlinson's wing, he learns more than he ever expected.

Love Endless (series; 3 completed works/1WIP; 696k)

The year is groovy 1973, and eighteen-year-old Louis Tomlinson is perhaps the gayest teen to ever grace the gloomy, hateful town of Fortwright. Would be fine if he wasn't so viciously bullied at both home and school for such a "harmful" sexual preference.

Yeah, yeah, we've all heard this story, haven't we?

Believe him, Louis didn't think he was anything special either.

Until he found the mansion. The notoriously haunted mansion hidden deep within the forests of his tiny blip of a town in Bumfuck Nowhere, Idaho. No one with a brain ever goes near it, but Louis could use a little excitement in his life...and possibly a Band-Aid or two.

After discovering the mansion was less abandoned than he'd thought, he's now left with the most riveting mystery of a lifetime; every new finding leaving him with more questions. Who is this elusive owner, and why won't they show themselves? Why is there a set of journals in the same handwriting that span over centuries? Why in the world is there a padlock on the refrigerator...and who the hell is Alexander?

#larry stylinson #larry fic rec #larry stylinson fic rec #stylinsonlibrary #historical #masterpost

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novemberia · 6 years

Video

𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡. Because there really is no other way to say it. That's all there is, all there ever was. All it would've taken. I wanted rain drops against a window pane, and my eyes looking out, half-open, half-stunned, unblinking. And the lights through the glass through the raindrops: everything effervescent; incandescent. The city throbbing and my heart reborn, and me a part of something so insanely bigger than I am or ever was, something wide and impossible, and so achingly out of reach: something that wouldn't fit in the palm of my hand. To be stretched and pulled and tugged and kneaded. Beyond me. Beyond you. Maybe that’s why you saw it as betrayal. 𝑂𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡. Maybe if I had said it, just like that, simply, the way it was, it would've sounded more truthful—innocent maybe—kind even, like a child's request to play after dark— half-question, half-answer, curious—but ready and non-expecting. I think I tried. I think I did. 𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡. Maybe no matter how I said it, you would've still heard it, underneath it all for what it is, for what it would do, after all I dressed it out to be, grandiose things: notions of dreams, and self-discovery, and becoming, you would've heard it, loud and clear a low cry half-muffled, half-confused that incessant longing for heartbreak a yearning to become shattered, disembodied again to return (for I ached to return) (but you called it leaving.) Because ever since I could remember, I have carried this. Ever since I could remember, there has been only this. But then you came along. You who were not part of it. How could I tell you the night would not be mine, if you were in it? How could I say things like “too soon,” after all your years of waiting? Things like— “Stop,” “Don’t follow.” “Dismember me from you.” You who brought me the sun. All those things you called cruel and selfish (in moments of anger so I forgive you): they were my life. Tell me, was there a truth we would not gape at? They have fallen now. The things held and kept still for so long. They have passed away with our wanting. We play around with the embers, we poke, we prod, willing them to fire. We throw the ashes around our bodies and say, ‘ignite,’ huddled alone over damp logs, while the world bursts into flames. These things we knew but did not dare to say, are they more truthful now that we have defied them? ------------------------------------------------ There are days when I forget, days when what has been longed for wills into being another existence, moves the body beyond its perimeters, and in those moments, I have a different body and a different face peeks out at me across the marble floors. I have brighter eyes and less creases and I am not surprised at the events of things. I have other memories too. Memories of fireworks on New Year’s Eve. Of store-bought cupcakes, a single birthday candle and being proud despite myself; of having arrived (finally) and becoming twenty-four. Of a clock striking in the distance and the distant shouts of people that follow, ushering in a full year’s worth of dreams in waves, in ripples, propelling them forward, unknowingly bringing whole lifetimes into creation. Of me being one of them. And the vividness of all things after so long. Of red. There was going to be red doors and red post boxes and red umbrellas, like the one you gave me before I left, because “they say it rains, you know,” you had whispered. I loved you then, and held your gifts close to my chest, recognizing them for what they were: they were tickets, they were passports. But most of all memories of the night and me belonging to it and expanding. Of color. Of sound. Of a way of life that is kinetic, open. Not open like a crack in a vase or a fissure in the surface of the earth. Not open like broken—with gaps, breaks, fragments, and empty spaces. But an open that can be put back together again. Open, like the budding of a flower. Like a book left midway on a table, like a door held halfway by the one before for the one after, like the face of a man in love, eyes closed, lips searching. Like the body of a woman in love, breasts alight, legs trembling. Open, like a ripened fruit, twisted in half, then shared—always that after—that invitation to be shared. In those moments, I let myself be carried. I know it will not go far. The unreal has a way of fading, so I hold on for as long as I could. I forget for as long as I could. Till I am brought back, and that body becomes another's, that face, these memories—all another’s. And all that is left is that sound from long ago, and all that is left is that cry, and all that is left is this dim remembering of me tugging at your shirt and begging: "Give me back my loneliness."

February 2018

London, United Kingdom

Audio Credits: Ludovico Einaudi, Experience

#love #heartbreak #city #london #united kingdom #ludovico #music #poetry #poetry video #poetic prose #prose #writer #writing #loneliness #relationship

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the-roanoke-society · 6 years

Text

lepidoptery & lace.

ladies and gentlemen, a birthday gift for our very own @agent-absinthe (whose birthday is definitely today and not four days ago, that was my bad), our guiding light, who has been with me since the beginning.

this was a long time coming.

and oh look, christmas in march!

they had finally managed to get them home. home to stay. it’d taken a few years, but—harry about lost his breath as the snow whirled around them in gentle flurries, and his arm tightened around rae’s waist as they exited the opera house. he kept her close, as they tried to maneuver out of the way of the crowd flood out behind them.

it had been worth the wait. it had been worth everything.

this was their first winter in london. rae and morgan hadn’t been—quite prepared for the british cold season. christmas loomed over them, albeit cheerfully; the entire city, between the snowflakes and the lights, the reds, the golds, the greens—it looked like a snow globe.

“well—now you’re no longer a virgin to the opera,” he began gently, as they came to a standstill by a light post. the glow from the lamp made her hair glow. “what did you think?”

“i think that despite everything, you and i still managed to have an easier time, and i’m forever grateful for that, because that count is just—the hottest mess, harry.”

and he had to laugh. “beaumarchais would have agreed.”

and she smiled when he brushed a hand along her head, kissing her forehead.

as he’d done many times before. as he would have enjoyed doing—the full realization settling in with an unnatural but not unwelcome warmth in his stomach—for the rest of his life.

he’d lost count of the number of times she could have been lost. the few times she came within a razor’s edge.

and the one time they, both rae and morgan, had been fully severed from this world. what weeks of absolute hell he and hamish had walked through. he hadn’t been able to stomach strawberries since then.

“… raeanna.”

his hands slid down from her shoulders, to her elbows, to grip her hands, still ungloved. hers were cool, but his weren’t.

he’d had the box that was currently in his coat pocket for months. just—waiting. harry would claim that he didn’t possess a wide variety of virtues—but patience. patience was one.

and she was here. she was here, living with him, waking up next to him, every single morning. lying beside him—and sometimes on top of him, sometimes underneath him—every night. where he could keep her safe—not that she needed much protecting, he’d concede. but all the same.

he realized the last of his arguments had fallen silent. walls he hadn’t remembered building were decimated in the face of this, and it was utterly glorious.

he wondered if this was what hamish had felt. back in mobile. if what blossomed in harry’s chest was anything like what the quartermaster had felt that october ages ago—then now, he could safely say that he understood.

he was equally defenseless. but there was sheer joy in the vulnerability.

“harry? are you all right? you look—flushed? i’m not sure if that’s quite—uhm—“ nervous giggling. “—why are you looking at me like that?”

oh, those eyes.

“i—i’m, sorry, it’s just—there’s something i really need for you to know—“

and she just tilted her chin up slightly, her expression soft. he knew that look. ‘all ears. ready when you are, sir.’ she was going to kill him. he swallowed, the nerves beginning to burn along his lungs. the time was now. there was no more waiting.

“… sometimes, with your work—the things i’ve seen happen in the roanoke manor, the ah, things you keep in your basement floors—i wonder if there has always been an us. it may not have always looked—quite like this, we may not have always appeared like we do now, but i hope that we were still there. in all those other timelines, other universes.” he brought her cold knuckles to his lips. tears stung her eyes. “remember what you said to me once? you—you were quoting something, i don’t quite remember, but you said—“

and she helpfully recalled, voice a little tight, “‘i hope that if alternate universes exist, it will still be you and me in the end. i hope that there will always be an us. in every world—in every story.’”

“and the story most important to me is this one.” his grip tightened and he brought their foreheads together. “this one we’re living right this second.”

and then it just sort of rushed out. he’d been planning on kneeling, all the traditional movements, but she was so, so close to him. he could smell her perfume. he didn’t want to lose it. not for this.

“… raeanna clementine, marry me.”

and she let out a soft sob. “… are you sure?” she said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear her.

“i have never been more certain of anything in my entire life.”

and they probably looked strange, to the people passing around them in the snow. this couple with a height difference and an age gap and with only three eyes between them.

but what mattered more to harry was how she proceeded to kiss him so hard she about bowled him over, and the words she murmured against his lips that broke into a broad grin: “yes, yes, abso-fucking-lutely yes, harry.”

#(happy birthday rae-bae!)#agent succubus #former agent galahad #butterfly knife #lepidoptery & lace #kingsman

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everythingelseisspokenfor · 7 years

Note

imagine simon and baz adopting a little girl g o o d b y e I am deceased -🎹 (piano anon)

Oh my god! I literally abandoned all else to write this fic! I wanted it to be cute but turned out a little heavier than I hoped it to be. But I love it, so here it is. I’m posting it on ao3 as well, but thanks for the prompt piano anon!!

Simon

I can’t believe that people would still be this thick in 2017. I mean for god’s sake is being a little more open-minded that hard? The fact that we have to deal with homophobes even now. It’s not like it has anything with their lives, or that I have anything to do with their lives. And somehow, they still think they have the right to force their damned close-minded, narrow sighted opinions onto the world.

“Why would someone say that? Those bloody imbeciles! Why do they think they can?” I complain to Baz as we walk up to our apartment. It’s different living together now that we don’t hate each other anymore. But Baz claims he never hated me. And I don’t think I ever did either.

“Seriously Snow, chill out will you. It’s not like they can change you or me,” he says digging his pocket for the keys. “And there is nothing we can do to change them apparently.” He grabs the grocery bags from my hand and I walk in sideways through the door. The glamour keeps my red wings and devil’s tail out of the eyes of the normal but is still a huge pain in the ass. I’ve gotten more used to it though. I think one is bound to after nearly a decade with it. I can’t believe it’s been 10 years since Watford.

“But it’s just so frustrating!” I groan, “Couldn’t you have used your magic to smite them or something?”

“I can’t use magic outside just like that.” He shrugs like he just stated the most obvious thing in the world. Well, he kinda did. I mean yes, we aren’t just allowed to let people know about the existence of the World of Mages. Unfortunately. I mean how cool would it be if people knew dragons existed! Those poor souls obsessing over fantasy when we deal with it on a daily basis. Well, not anymore. Thankfully. “Besides, I didn’t carry my wand.”

“Liar. You always carry your wand with you.” I counter. He shrugs again. I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. I just hate that we live in such a world.”

“I know Simon. Me too.”

Baz

Simon leaves me to do all the preparation for dinner. Just like him. Too lazy to ever do anything. His go-to excuse is always My wings will just make a mess even if I don’t want to. Come on Baz! I can’t believe that I let it work every single time. What can I say? I’m weak, and head over heel for this git. I don’t even know why. I just pick out the onions from the bag when my phone rings. I jump at the sudden loud noise. I take second to check the caller ID before answering.

“Hello, Bunce.”

“Hey, Baz. I need a favour. Simon isn’t picking up.”

“Yeah, he’s in the shower. What’s it?”

“Yeah. I need you to go to Abbey Wood. There is some sort of incident there. I think it’s something Magical, and I’m in America. So, could you deal with that for me?” Penelope was the external coordinator for Watford now, which meant she dealt with all the magic-related things that took place outside the control of the world of mages. Simon and I help her out time and again.

“How urgent is it?” I ask.

“I’m not really sure. But it seems like things are going to blow up pretty soon. Some people are already there but they are barely holding it together. I need you to go now!”

“Okay. But you owe me one Bunce.”

“Thank you so much! I’ll text you the address.”

I drop the onions on the counter as Simon walks out dressed in his PJs. Head dripping wet. I grab the car keys as Simon gives me a questioning look.

“Somethings going on in Abbey Wood that they need my help with. Want to have dinner outside?”

“I don’t want to change!” He whines. I laugh and mutter a quick spell and change his current attire to a grey shirt and jeans. “So much for I can’t just use magic like that.” I give him a cocky grin and he walks in to give me a quick peck on my lips. And we walk out together.

There are more such incidents than you’d think there’d be in a busy city like London. So, the urgency of the situation doesn’t hit me till we reach Abbey wood and see the massive fire engulfing the church. I hit the brakes more suddenly than I intended to, Snow and I fall forward, and I rush to clutch out the seat belt and run outside.

“What the hell is happening here?” I pant out to one of the boys standing there.

“I’m not sure. There were a group of vampires that attacked the church I think. There were a few people here, but I don’t know where they are.”

I’m not listening to him anymore. I quickly reach my jeans pocket to grab my wand and shout, “Make a wish.” The fire only barely dies down. “Make a wish!” I shout again forcing more magic into the words, Simon quickly takes my side enquiring the boy. I try one more time. “Make a wish.” And the fire puffs out. Black smoke covers the entire building and I sprint inside without any warning. The smoke enters my lung and I start coughing. I can barely see anything, but I find myself walking anyway. “Anybody there?” I ask walking over a few people. I scoot down to check their pulse. Nothing. I take a deep breath which only causes me to cough more.

“Baz?”

“I’m here,” I reply, forcing my face to remain neutral. This is not something I was expecting to handle today. Simon scoots down next to me and places a comforting hand on my shoulder. I just nod and get up. “Anybody there?” I try again.

Simon

I hear a low whimper around the corner. I tap Baz’s shoulder and start walking towards the sound. I walk into the confession room in the corner. The smoke has died down considerably, so it’s easier to see. I open the door and find a little girl, probably six or seven, sat in one corner head against her knees, rocking back and forth.

“Hey,” I say mustering the most soothing voice I could put up. She jumps at the sound of my voice and coils further into herself. I take another careful step forward. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “We’re here to help. It’s all over now.” She is crying. Her eyes are puffy and red, and I can’t do anything to help. But I desperately want to. I kneel next to her. “What’s your name sweetie?” I notice Baz behind me.

“Lu –” She sobs. “Lucy” I flinch but recover quickly.

“Okay,” I attempt placing a hand on her little shoulder. ��Let’s get you out of here? Okay? Can we do that?” She nods slowly grabbing her little seal toy.

“Mom?” She mutters slowly as she gets up.

“Your mom was here?” Baz asks, his voice deep and sorrowful.

“She –” Lucy sobs again, “She asked me to stay here then left.” I turn to look at Baz whose eyes widen, and I follow his gaze and realise why. There are 2 puncture wounds on her neck. She was bitten. Oh my god. Baz. I turn to face him again and notice him beginning to fall apart. Lucy walks out before I can stop her and walk over to one of the limp bodies scattered around.

“Mommy?” she scoots down shaking the woman’s shoulder. My heart breaks. “Mommy. The bad guys aren’t here anymore. Mommy?” She shakes her harder, one hand still clutching her soft toy. Baz becomes stiff. He doesn’t move. He just stares at the little girl and I notice his eyes filled to the rim glistening with tears. He doesn’t make an effort to wipe away the tear as it falls, and I don’t know if I should stay and comfort him or go to Lucy. I look back to her still trying to wake her mother up, and I instinctively walk there.

“Why isn’t she waking up?” She looks up at me and probes weakly. I look down at her little hand trying settled on her mothers and grab it slowly.

“Let’s get you out of here. Okay?” I try.

“NO!” She pulls her hands away! “NO! I don’t want to go without mommy. No!” I don’t know what to do. My face strains figuring out a way to break it to her that her mom can’t come. So I do the next best thing my good for nothing brain could think of. I pull her into a hug. She fights me for seconds before collapsing into me in tears. I move a hand to her hair placing a soft kiss on her head.

“It’s going to be alright.” I murmur. “It’s going to be alright.”

Baz

I couldn’t take it. It was too much. It brought back memories I wasn’t even sure I remembered. I froze. I was supposed to help, and I froze. I f***ing froze. Simon seemed to have a handle on the situation though. Thankfully. I watched as he carried the kid and walked over to me. He took my hand and squeezed it once before guiding me out as well. Coming to my senses I quickly wiped away the tears that had fallen. As we walk out we notice a few more people standing there with the boy we saw earlier. He leans forward and hands Lucy over to me. It takes me a while to understand, but I put my hand forward and carry her.

“Aleister Crowley, where the hell were you all?”

“We. Uh. We went to follow the vampires who had escaped.” One of them. A girl with blonde hair replied hesitantly.

“And none of you bothered to check for anyone else inside? What is wrong with you.” Their heads all ducked down in shame.

“We just… we didn’t think there was anyone in there!”

“Well. Think again,” He screams.

“Simon,” I warn. I didn’t realise I was rocking her till I heard a soft snore. He takes a deep breath composing himself.

“Fix up this mess and then go home.” He instructs and walks to me. “Are you okay?” He utters, and I nod.

“Can you drive? I don’t want to disturb her. And she probably needs some quiet.” He holds his hand out. “I don’t think I removed the keys from the car.” He nods and opens the door for me. I get in, trying my best not to wake the sleeping child in my arms. He closes the door walking to the driver side. We are both silent the entire drive.

Simon

When we reach home, Baz walked directly into the room and delicately placed Lucy on our bed and tucked her in. I stood by the door frame watching her cuddle into the blanket. Baz turned around, a weird sort of tiredness fixed in his eyes. I walked over to him and embraced him. I didn’t know how else to help him, and words have always failed me, so I wasn’t going to rely on them now. He buried his head in my chest and I could feel the wetness of his silent tears.

“Is she –” I ask pulling back a little, but I can’t complete the question. He nods then collapses over me again. Neither of us had our appetites anymore. But we found a comfortable position on the couch as I handed Baz a glass of water.

“What are we going to do with her? She just lost everything. And she doesn’t even know it yet,” Baz points out. He looks disoriented. Not something I see very often. I scoot in closer to him.

“I know,” I mumble. “We can’t just drop her off at an orphanage because she is… you know.”

“You can say it, Simon,” Baz huffs a laugh, “It’s not something offensive.”

“I know,” Is all I can say.

“What are we going to do?” He repeats and puts his head on his palms.

“Baz…” I start, “Do you want to, um… maybe we should… why don’t we… adopt her?” Baz’s head turns towards me in one sharp motion.

“This is not a joke Snow!”

“I know. I’m serious. Why not? She needs a home. And we have one.” He sits up straighter.

“That’s not all it takes, Simon. If it was just about providing a home, things would be much less complicated. Do you think either of us is ready to be a parent? You barely remember to put on your pants before you leave home.” I laugh slowly.

“I don’t think anyone is ever ready to be a parent. But I think we can make good ones if we try. She needs someone to help her Baz. And I really want to. It’s like you said. Her entire life collapsed in front of her. She needs someone to lean back on. And there is no one else right now who can understand what she is going through better than you. And I can try to not ruin everything.”

“Are you sure about this?” I nod. “Then I hope to god you’re right. Coz if Lucy becomes a rebellious annoying teenager, you’re going to have to deal with her.” I grin.

“Are you serious!”

“Weren’t you just advocating for us to adopt her? If you’ve changed your mind, I’m sorry. I’ll adopt her anyway.” He smiles one of his rare genuinely happy smiles. I grin wider and move in to kiss him.

“We’re going to be dads!” I squeal with my forehead against his.

“I guess we are.”

#snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #carry on #rainbow rowell #prompts #my fic #snowbaz fic #simon x baz

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anupriyasinghal · 4 years

Text

An old girl in a new city

Another year has come & gone & I have to say a lot has happened in 2019 unlike 2018 where literally nothing happened and yet it seemed that life spun on its own axis leading to nothing more than a bit of frenzy & a lot of nausea.

I was on a long flight halfway across the world when I started writing this one. I have an honest question from the larger world. Does it happen that if you are flying closer to home the distance in your head seems shorter than it actually is? Everytime I would fly from India to London or anywhere in Europe I would always find it long & tiresome. But here I was flying to Thailand from London when I started writing it, which is a 12 hour journey & I have been thinking come on that’s not that far. Well, to be honest I don’t think it happens with everyone. I have this weird tendency of layering facts (scientific or otherwise) with emotions & prejudice making it well, a halfway world b/w muggles & wizards. Oh! I am still convinced that there is a magical realm existing somewhere & we have just not found the door to it yet. That was over 6 months ago & then somehow I never got to finish this. So here I am saying bye to 2019, having completed my 1 yr in London, driven far & wide (8000 miles to be precise) in a not so new country any longer, 2 speeding tickets; 1 speed awareness course, 1 failed driving test later finishing what I started & am finishing it now because I realised it would lose all meaning if I don’t finish it before the year ends. .

This post could be about a lot of things & I am still choosing as I am writing. People who know me a little will find it odd that I haven’t decided what I want to write about yet & those who know me very well will know that’s just me. Think & make up the the thinking as you talk - my biggest strength & well my worst pitfall as well. It may do me well to list down what all it could be about & then see where I take it as I move along because while I may choose to elaborate on one of them the reality is that its a story of all of these things in some form & quantity but I don’t know yet what do I feel most strongly about. The options I have are - about loving & losing (well its an exageration but for sake of creative liberty let’s call it that); wide eyed absorption of a new world; growing up (or well growing older I would say); serendipity; seeing the world to be same same but different different or finally being able to find the mirror of erised where one sees just oneself.

I will choose the last one because of two reasons. Firstly, it warranted a Harry Potter reference without having to force fit one & more importantly because that is a feeling I want to remember as I end this year and move from being an old girl in a new city to just a girl in this city.

So it started on 2nd January 2019 when I yet again uprooted my life as I knew it & packed it in boxes of different sizes & shapes & shipped it halfway across the world to London. The new year brought as many “new(s)” as it could - new job, new country, new ways of dealing with goodbyes & most importantly I think a little new me or atleast a much healed & unbroken old me which almost seems a new me now. I think for the longest time I have been a broken mug glued together with 1 or 2 pieces always missing or cracks showing through. Now atleast I am a whole mug fully glued together & slowly I think I am also becoming a piece of china put together through Kintsukuroi. For people who don’t know what it is - its a Japanese form of fixing things where the cracks are filled with gold also called golden joinery. Essentially it means you don’t hide the cracks but you embellish them. I have now chosen to do just that with my broken & sort of healed pieces.

Actually truly this story starts in December 2018 when I started saying my goodbyes in India & if any of you read my Pushkar post there is reference of how I immersed some of the things I wanted to leave behind in the holy waters. So I came to London relatively lighter (I wish I could say that about my weight as well -sadly it was at its worst with all the farewell binging!!!) & relatively equipped to handle the new.

Unlike the last time I lived on foreign soil; I am actually loving the move. It has had many dimensions to it which I have totally fallen in love with. I now know what does cold grey weather mean. It was an alien concept till I spent Jan & Feb in London despite the fact that I have lived in Kashmir for 2 years (India’s coldest region) but nothing back home prepares you for days on end of no sun & miserable sleet (i refuse to call it rain) all around you. The howling winds that threaten to enter your bones & never leave. But to be honest there is a beauty to it all as well. There is something extremely wholesome about entering a warm & toasty home after a long walk from the station or standing under a hot water shower and feeling your skin regain warmth.

Coming back to why the particular choices of what I wanted to write about & why they were all viable choices. As it happens with me & some of it very much in my own head things happened that made me go down a rabbit hole without thinking much about the end, believe in Yash uncle’s prophecy of “sabke liye kahin na kahin koi bana hai”, trying to be a better version of myself incessantly, leaning in & then at some point pulling out because that is the only to be.

It sounds like I went through lots of bad things & then came out of it a winner. Nothing like that happened. Things happened - some good, some great, some bad & some ugly. Mostly they were just things that happened - it was my reaction to them that determined what I remember & choose to keep with me from them.

Because I am an ardent Bollywood fan & I love Yash uncle & SRK & everything that comes with their genre of film making I realised that ishq (aka love) is much like autumn. You know before moving to London I had never experienced Autumn in my life & I had only heard about how the colour of fall & autumn have magic in them. In every book that remotely reeked of romance & togetherness, it all always started or fructified in Autumn/fall. And I honestly didn’t know what that meant in its true sense. But I think the last years experiences have been like the colours of fall for me. While everything stayed the same, the colours just deepened to embody the combined & common passion for the good things & experiences in life that can only be measured in their intensity & importance & never in their length or longevity. And the fact that everything comes in a different hue of amber/crimson & some stay that way while others decide to wither & drift away as dead leaves. And not just in terms of people or romantic sorta relationships - just everything in life. The moment we stop measuring significance of events/people/things in longevity of their existence in your life - you can see them for what they really are. Time is a dimension that definitely needs to be measured for quality and not quantity.

And having established this parallel in my head & for a change in my heart, I started my journey of being the lone woman in the mirror of Erised. I decided to pull back & choose to preserve myself without running to season myself & who I am with namak cheeni & masala as preservatives.

I read this in a book and it has sort of stuck with me - “Fear is good. In the right degree it prevents us from making fools of ourselves. But in the wrong measure it prevents us from fully living. Fear is our boon companion but never our master.” My fear of being judged, abandoned or left standing alone (not in a lack of companionship way but rather a beautiful strong solitary soul way) has dictated most of what course of action or discourse of reaction I take. But in truth fear can only be our companion & never our master.

So here I am, bringing in 2020 surrounded by warm fuzzy soft quilt of affection, love, laughter, joy & excitement of family, friends & friends like family. And while this is the quilt that is firmly & securely tucked under me, I also have my head firmly rested on the pillow stuffed with intellect, thoughts, ideologies, ideas, creativity & the right amount of fluidity in all of the above that I have carefully begged, borrowed & stolen from people who have these in abundance.

Here’s an old girl in a not so new city looking at herself in the mirror of Erised with a pair of outrageously fun socks or maybe a big library or a garden full of summer blooms or a round the world air ticket in my hands. I am not looking at a better or different version of myself. I am looking at myself as myself desiring small or big joys of life! Happy 2020 folks!!!!

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imaginesfromtheupsidedown · 7 years

Text

Blast From The Past

A Kol Mikaelson imagine (Kol x reader)

Hi guys! I’m finally back! This is a fic I wrote and had posted on my other blog (leslieknopeforgov) before I deleted it! I thought all my fics were gone forever, but I found my flash drive with all of them on it!! So I’m going to re post a few of them, and if you’ve read them before, don’t worry, I didn’t steal them! Just reposting :)

Not requested

A/N: This is a fic I tried adding a little soulmate twist to, let me know if you like it or what other things you’d like to see!

Triggers: none? please let me know if I’m wrong!

word count: 3146

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He sat skulking around the house like he always did. I mean, what more was there to do around the French Quarter? The quarrel with the witches was over, most of his siblings were hiding or, like his recent love interest, dead. And his brothers didn’t really approve of him ripping humans anymore, so honestly, why the hell did he stay here?

He absentmindedly rubbed his fingers across the small letters etched across the side of his wrist while he walked into the study where his brother, Klaus, was adding in the final intimate details to a painting that he had been painting for the last few weeks.

“It’s not nice to sneak up on people, brother.” Klaus mused, his face close to the canvas.

“Well I’m bored. Entertain me, before I dagger myself.” Kol jokingly motioned his hands toward his chest, pretending to actually dagger himself.

“Ah, yes, well that would certainly make for quality entertainment, now wouldn’t it?” his brother laughed, setting his supplies down and turning to face him. “It has been a hot second since anything exciting has happened, though..”

“I agree,” Kol eagerly approached his brother, “so what will it be? Shall we throw a ball? Go on a lavish vacation? How about we pop down to the pub and have a drink or two from some of the locals?” he plopped onto the nearest chair, a smirk on his face as he crossed one leg over the other. Klaus shot him an annoyed look.

“Kol, you know that we can’t do that. We’re laying low. After everything that’s happened since I’ve arrived here, let alone since you’ve come back, we need not draw any more attention to ourselves.” He turned back to his canvas. “But-“

“But?” Kol pipped, his eyebrow raising.

“It has been an awfully long time since you and I have gotten drinks together, hasn’t it?” Klaus smirked.

“Sounds like first rounds on you, brother!” Kol grinned.

“So, tell me why you’ve brought me to the smallest club in the city.” he was, sad to say, still a bit bored. Sure, it was a decent club with nice music and the drinks were tasty, but at the same time it was only one story and was packed even though there were only about 100 or so people there. Sure, the place looked brand-spanking-new and the atmosphere was exciting. But he liked bigger clubs with more people, louder music, where things go unnoticed. Things like drinking some blood from a few intoxicated patrons in between his drinks.

“Oh, come on now, Kol. I know you’ll love it here. Why don’t you go out and ‘bust a move’, make an ass of yourself for a bit.” Klaus laughed as he sipped from his glass, eyes skimming the crowd. The main lights were a pink-ish color, with blues, greens, and other colors swirling all around in different patterns and designs. Kol rolled his eyes, staring towards the door thinking about how fast he could get out of there and back in the comfort of his room. Klaus sat his drink down and rolled his eyes toward Kol. “Okay, No-Fun Nancy, how about we play a little drinking game?”

“I’m listening…”

“Let’s confess some of the sins, pranks, and wrong doings we’ve done to each other over the years. A shot per confession? Let’s see if either of us ends up surprised.”

“Well, good thing I came prepared to drink the place dry, isn’t it?” smiled Kol, ready to reminisce some very old memories with his older brother. The bartender brought over a round of about ten shots, five for each of them to start. Klaus reached first.

“Okay, I’m oldest therefore I’ll start us off.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “So, back in the day, when we were in London, ya know, for the fourth or fifth time around, I was the one who kept making Rebekah’s little boy toys disappear.” He tried to suppress a smile before downing the shot.

“What! She blamed me for that, you wank! I took several beatings because she thought that I was scaring them off just to spite her!” Kol exclaimed. Rebekah had tried to find love again while they had been living in London, and unfortunately, boyfriend after boyfriend after boyfriend came up missing after a few weeks. She blamed Kol for it since he was the one to always give the men a hard time, and she had always thought that Kol had scared them far, far away.

“Well, it would’ve been a bit too out of character for me to just scare them off, don’t you think?” Klaus laughed.

“Oh, you twat.” Kol reached for his shot, a grin on his face. “Alright, so, my turn I guess. Well, do you remember when we traveled to Italy to retrace some of the many the footsteps of that doppelgänger that got the best of you?”

“If this is going in the direction I think it’s going, Kol-“

“Hey! Let me finish! Anyways….”

They went through their first round of shots and were on the second to last on the second round. Both were a bit tipsy, red faced, and grinning ear to ear. Klaus reached for his shot glass while Kol erupted with laughter.

“Alright, you now know how I tricked the red head into thinking Finn was alive and eluding her, now, your turn!” Kol wiped away a tear from his eyes from laughing so much.

“Right, right, okay! Well this one is a rare occurrence where I got Elijah-“ Klaus started, but froze squinting his eyes in concentration. Kol raised an eyebrow but waited. “Changing my confession, brother. Do you remember a certain little settler a few hundred years back? What was her name…..”

“Y/N?” Kol answered a little too quickly. He squirmed a bit in his chair, he wasn’t expecting to hear that name pop up.

“Ahh, yes. Such a pretty name, wasn’t it?” Klaus dismissed. “Well, I must admit, I may have had a small part to play in your little goodbye…” Kol’s breath had hitched, thinking all the way back to what he had tried to forget in all the years since.

Y/N came over to the Americas when the colonies started to push westward. Gorgeous, sweet, Y/N. He remembers the first time he saw those piercing y/e/c eyes. She was carrying a basket of clothes to hang to dry out in the field behind where her house was, and he happened to be out for a little lunch when he stumbled upon her. Thinking he would have some fun with her before his main course, he ran up behind her and spooked her, causing her to scream and drop the basket. Right as he was about to lunge for her, she glanced up at him at him and something about her caused him to pause.

“My goodness! Where did you come from!” she giggled. “I apologize if I’m the one who ran into you, I’m just very thoughtful today and may not have been paying attention. I’m Y/N, Mr…..?” she held her hand out for him to shake, and that’s when he saw the little letters on the side of her wrist: KM. He had no idea how to process this gorgeous woman in front of him, let alone the fact that this could be his soulmate.

“Ah, yes, uh,” he coughed, “Mikaelson. Kol Mikaelson. Sorry, I, uh, was running to find my brothers and I just, um, ran into you.” She smiled the most beautiful smile he had ever seen and giggled a bit before bending down to pick the damp clothes from the ground.

“Ah! Well I do hope that you find them!” she said, giving him a sideways glance probably thinking that he was about to be on his way. He stood frozen for a few more seconds before reaching down to help her gather up the clothes.

“Eh, they’ll be fine wherever they went. Let me help you with these, I’m terribly sorry about spilling your clothes. I’ll even wash them again if they need it!” he grinned at her. And that was the first day he can remember his heart trying to come out of his chest.

“Wha- what do you mean? Her father told me that she and her mother died of the fever…” he trailed off.

“Well… I mean. Yes and no.” Klaus exaggerated. “You see….. Her mother was ill and she refused to leave her side, and you had decided to go on that little ‘hunting trip’ with Elijah, and I was a bit bored. I had been a little curious as to why you had become so infatuated with the girl and decided to-“

“Niklaus!” Kol growled, hands gripping his chair as hard as possible without completely cracking it.

“Let me continue, brother!” snapped Klaus, throwing his head back afterward as he gulped down the shot. “Where was I? Ah! Yes, see, she had refused to leave her mother’s bedside as she was so, so sure it was mommy’s last few days. And since you were gone she took to temporarily confiding in me. Cut to the chase, after a few days of consoling her annoying woes I told her I could help her mother. That I was a witch.” Kol’s grip started to make indents in the chair as he squeezed down harder.

“Niklaus you tell me right now! Did you kill them?!” spat Kol, anger starting to boil inside of him. This was the first woman he had ever fallen for, the first woman he had ever loved. And his brother spoiled that… He felt that it was different than with the others. Rebekah never truly loved any of the men she was with, and she never knew them for long before they either fled or got killed. And the whole ordeal with Sage, Finn wasn’t really dead, so sending her on a wild goose chase for a few years wasn’t killing their chance at love, it was just a silly little prank. But this…. This was the woman who had seen Kol for who he really was, the sensitive man who acted out to get a laugh out of anyone near. She was the woman that he had someday hoped to not only marry, but be with for the rest of his existence. She had never harmed anyone in her life, and he doubted that she ever would have. Her heart was too big, and he had absolutely adored that..

She laughed that beautiful laugh that he loved so much. They were in the loft of her family’s barn, a night of passion almost over. Her hair was down and her night gown lay a few yards away from them, tossed aside carelessly next to his clothes. They were intertwined on top of the hay.

“Shh! If your father hears us he’ll come out here and have our heads!” he laughed, his mouth right next to her ear.

“How can I be silent, Kol! This is the best night of my life, with the love of my life!” she cupped his face, bringing his forehead to hers.

“You say that every night. And if you want to keep having an ‘every night’, you’ll hush!” he teased, tickling her and sending her into a fit of giggles. He loved her so much, and could stay like this forever. There were a few moments of silence where he stayed gazing at her before pulling her in for a kiss.

“I’m very glad you ran into me..” blushed Y/N after they pulled apart. “If we hadn’t have met, I don’t know what I would have done...”

“Oh, nonsense. Some other lad would’ve swooped in and courted you! You’re the most amazing woman that I have ever met, trust me.” He assured her, pushing a stray hair behind her ear. “And besides, we would have met another way, I know it. We were meant to be lovers.” He grabber her wrist and kissed the spot with his initials. She traced her own initials that were on his wrist.

“Hand crafted for each other….”

“Kol! Enough or I leave right now.” Klaus’ voice was low and full of authority. “Now, I told her, ‘Listen Y/N, I can save her, but I need to bind you with a spell to help pull her out of this. All you both need to do is to drink a little bit of my blood, since I’m the witch performing the spell, and then I do the rest of the work’. And even though it took a little convincing, she eventually agreed that she wanted her mother to be back to full health! Such a wonderful, selfless daughter!” he teased, causing Kol’s blood to sizzle even more.

“So, I fed her my blood first, convincing her that she had to do it first since she was the healthy one. And then, after she drank it all down, thanking me over and over and over…. I snapped the little bitch’s neck.” He finished, any trace of joking gone. Kol was so angry at him! How DARE he kill her! She didn’t even know that vampires existed, let alone that they were the original family! She didn’t pose any threat to them! If only he hadn’t gone with Elijah… if only he had stayed with her a few more days, how would everything had turned out? He never even got to say goo-

“Wait,” Kol whispered, “did you just say that she had your blood in her system? That she’s-“

“Alive? Yes. Your little lady love is alive, and quite well. Thanks to her nearly dead mother who served her final purpose by allowing her daughter to feed for the first time.” Klaus was so proud of himself.

“Then.. Where in the hell is she!” demanded Kol. “Its been almost 400 years! What did you do to her!”

“Relax, she’s been on her own. We just had a little… falling out after her transformation. I made her swear she would keep her distance for a hundred years, and when that passed too quickly then I just started to keep her away. Like a little game!” Klaus tried to explain, although each word that came out of his mouth only infuriated Kol further.

“I… cannot believe you!” Kol started. “To tease Rebekah for the false loves she had every other day was one thing, but you watched me fall for her for years, Niklaus! How could you even-“

“And today the game, sadly for me, comes to an end. You see, you and I have grown so close in recent months, and in light of… recent events, I’ve decided that I have done you wrong for too long.” He reached over and took another shot glass from in front of Kol. “I didn’t bring you here to play stupid drinking games, Kol. I brought you here to- well, look for yourself.”

He nodded toward a door at the back of the club. It was swinging shut, someone having walked out of it. Kol’s chest tightened when he saw her: long, shiny hair, makeup all done, perfect manicure, with jet black heels, dark jeans, and a blazer. She was holding a binder in one arm and a coffee cup in the other hand. It was as if it was all happening in slow motion; her walking towards him, those piercing y/e/c eyes focused on the other side of the bar, hair wooshing back and forth. When she reached the end of the bar, she sat both the cup and binder down and started flipping through the binder, calling over the bartender to show him something.

He couldn’t believe it, she was alive and right in front of him! Of course, he wanted to run to her and take her in his arms and kiss her entire face and listen to every single detail that he had missed out on. But there he was like the first time he had ever seen her, frozen in place and words caught in his mouth. Klaus smirked at him before standing and then darting right next to her with his vampire speed. He didn’t know what to do so he just watched as she tensed up.

“Who the hell drinks coffee at a club?”

“Well, I’m not going to lie I never thought I would see you showing up here of all places, Klaus.” her beautiful voice was music to his ears, making his heart try to come through his chest again. He hadn’t felt that in almost 400 years... “What the hell do you want? Haven’t you already done your worst?” His heart sank, she sounded so tired.

“Now, love, why on earth would you say that? Have you not had great lifetimes?” Klaus teased, pulling her binder in front of him. “Oh, lovely, expanding are we?” she yanked it back from him.

“To what do I owe this… pleasure?” she said through her teeth.

“I came to apologize to a few people that I’ve done wrong. And you, love, are one of those people. So I’m here to make it all up to you!”

“Ha. Jesse, go outside and tell me if you see any pigs flying!” she yelled toward the bartender, crossing her arms. “Because that’s the only way I’ll believe that Klaus Mikaelson is coming into my club and admitting that he’s done any wrong.”

“I’m a changed soul, Y/N! And I can prove it.”

“Fine. Prove to me you’re a changed soul and I may CONSIDER forgiving you.” Her tone was flat.

“Only consider!”

“You killed me, had me kill my own mother, made me swear to stay away from the man I loved, then kept me from him, and when I finally find you, you’ve gotten him killed!” She was angry, so angry. Kol had never seen her so stoic or heard her voice so laced with malice. “You’re lucky that ‘consider’ is even an option.”

“Fine. I guess.” Klaus threw his arms up in mock surrender. “Well love, are you ready for my apology?” she shrugged, and butterflies started going mad in Kol’s stomach. Everything was in slow motion again. Klaus stepped aside and gestured behind him. Y/N rolled her eyes and looked his way, her jaw dropping and her eyes popping as soon as they landed on him. Their eyes stayed locked for what seemed like an eternity and then all of a sudden she was directly in front of him, eyes darting all over his face as if she was trying to memorize every inch; afraid he was going to disappear all over again. Words wouldn’t form for him, and he realized that he had been standing for who knows how long. All he could do was stare at her, mouth open wide. Another eternity passed, and then one of them finally spoke.

“Kol?”

#kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson fic #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson x reader #kol x reader #vampire diaries #vampire diaries imagine #vampire diaries fic #originals #originals fic #originals imagine #x reader #imagine #request #requests open #request anything #imaginesfromtheupsidedown

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imaginesoverreality · 7 years

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The Agreement: Part 4

The clock is ticking and the race to win Steve Trevor’s heart has begun. But with his memory of Diana completely erased, the warrior from Themyscira must find a way to gain his trust, and eventually his love, in a world that is completely foreign to him. Without the dangers of war and imminent death, Diana has to find a way to help her fellow soldier adjust.

Author’s Note: This is kind of a “filler” chapter. But I had to put in there or else the rest of the story wouldn’t make sense.

Feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged!

Rating: M

Word Count: 1784

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

“I look forward to meeting you again, Diana Prince.”

The words rang in her ears as she waited for Steve to wake up. Leaving the darkness of the cave somehow caused Steve to collapse onto the wet rocks. By the grace of the gods, she managed to catch him, avoiding any injury. Diana determined Hades must have enchanted the exit as part of their deal. The storm outside that was crashing all around them, had finally calmed to murky gray waters. Steve laid peaceful on his back, breathing at a soft and rhythmic pace. She couldn't help but reach out to stroke the prickly stubble on his cheek. She retracted quickly, however, when his long eyelashes began batting wildly.

“Steve?” Diana whispered, forgetting that she was now a complete stranger to him. Steve was finally able to open his eyes and came face to face with one of the most beautiful creatures he has ever seen.

“Wow.” slipped out of his mouth before he could even stop himself. Diana smiled, despite the twinge of pain from a long lost memory. “Are you hurt?” Diana questioned, checking his head for any blood or sign of injury. Steve shook his head no as he lifted himself upward. Together, they slowly rose to their feet. The spy realized he actually had no idea where he was or who the woman is who saved him.

“Who are you? Where are we?” Steve asked frantically. The last thing he remembered was a flying a plane into the sky and flashes of golden light encompassing him. Now he’s standing on a misty shore with a goddess of a woman. “Am I dead? Is this heaven?” He scrunched his dark brown eyebrows in confusion. “If this really is heaven”, he thought to himself, “it’s pretty hideous”. The woman who helped him turned from looking out into the distance, to face him. He noticed that she had been crying. Her eyes were puffy and red, but somehow that still didn’t mitigate her beauty.

“My name is Diana of Themy-” Diana stopped herself. She wasn’t sure how much of her story she should tell him at the moment. Most of her history Steve understood because he was there, he met her people. But now, she was just another woman to him. “My name is Diana Prince. We are on an island in the Mediterranean.” Steve looked at her in confusion. How did he end up in the Mediterranean? He was in Belgium before he woke up.

“I need to go back to my post. I am a pilot for the American Forces and I have to check in with my superiors.” He started descending down the rocky cliff to a wooden boat he saw sitting on the shoreline. Diana recognized the seal on its bow as Zeus’ lightning bolt. Diana called out to Steve as she fell in line with his quick pace. She grabbed his shoulder and stood in front of him.

“Steve, slow down.” the Amazon pleaded. The sound of his name caused the pilot to stop midstep. “How do you know my name?” He asked suspiciously. The soft blue eyes that Diana loved so much began hardening. Whatever trust they shared moments ago seemed to be dwindling. “You told me when you first woke up. You kept saying ‘Steve Trevor. Serial Number 8141921’. But soon after, you fell unconscious again.” Diana quickly fabricated, hoping it would be a satisfactory explanation. Steve didn’t fully accept her story but decided not to question it. “I have a home in Paris that you can stay in, if you would like. And I can explain everything on the way.” She stepped into the boat and began letting down the sails. Steve, deciding he could take another ship to London from Paris, agreed and pushed the boat into the sea, before hopping in himself.

The two sat under the same night sky, just as they did a hundred years ago. The dark waters lapped against the side of the ship so quietly, it was making Steve’s eyes grow heavy. But he was still a little suspicious of his shipmate, who was currently making them a place to sleep.

“You will sleep with me, yes?” Diana asked innocently. The pilot eyes were now wide awake and a rush of color graced his smooth cheeks. “Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea. ” Steve trailed off, scratching the back of his neck nervously. He started pacing around the boat and mindlessly pulling on the sails.

“Are you not tired?” Diana asked as she made herself comfortable on the makeshift bed. Steve, even more embarrassed now that she actually meant going to sleep, stopped moving. “Yeah, I guess. If you don’t mind me…” Diana quickly cut him off, “I do not mind”. Steve relaxed a little and walked back to the front of the ship. Once he joined Diana in what would serve as tonight’s sleeping quarters, the Queen finally decided to break her silence. She knew that they would be at the French border soon, and there would be no way of hiding the modern world from him. After a few beats of silence, Diana could no longer hold her tongue.

“Steve, do you know what year it is?” Diana whispered. Steve scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, but confidently answered “1918.” A sigh was slipped out, and the Amazon turned to her side. It would be hard for him to believe her without having actually seen the new world. But she hoped giving him an explanation would lessen the shock.

“There is so much I have to explain.” She paused “You have been away from this world for a very long time. The war you believe you are still fighting for, has ended. In all honesty, the world that you knew of, has ended.” Diana confessed to him. Steve looked at her as if she was speaking a foreign language. But the warrior queen kept speaking softly. “It’s the year 2018. You’ve been gone a century.”

She waited for what felt like centuries for his response. Anger, confusion, sadness, something to let her know that he had fully comprehended what she was relaying to him. But she got none of that. Instead, she heard rhythmic breathing. Looking up at him, Diana realized that Steve had fallen asleep. Even though he couldn’t recount all the memories they shared together, it had been a pretty exhausting day for both of them. She decided to finally follow suit with her past lover, and let the melatonin take over her body. She had tomorrow to explain everything.

***

“Who do you work for?”

The Amazon awoke from her slumber to find her hands and feet tied together. Steve stood a few feet away, clearly confused and anxious. Diana could easy free herself from her binds, but she didn’t want to alert Steve any more than she already had. All around him were buildings that were completely foreign to him. He wanted to believe that France had not changed that much since his last visit the month prior, but it wasn’t anything like he remembered. Something was different and the only person who could tell him what it was, was the stranger who brought him.

“Steve.” Diana tried to sit up straight, but as she moved, Steve, for the first time, got a real look at her armor. He didn’t recognize the symbols as war seals, but he had to be sure. “Who do you work for? The Germans?” She tried to deny it, but the spy still refused to believe her. Steve maneuvered his way to the other side of the ship, making sure to keep his eyes on her as he went. And before the worker on the dock could even tie the ship down, Steve hopped out of the boat and started running. He didn’t know where his legs were taking him, but he needed to find something he recognized or hear a familiar voice. “Candy!” Steve thought to himself. He’ll find a phone and call her, maybe she can explain to him what’s going on.

Diana watched Steve run away from her. As much as she wanted to explain the situation to him, it was too drastic of a change for him to understand without seeing it for himself. Quickly, Diana freed herself from the rope with a simple pull of the wrist and ankles. She followed him as best she could without being seen. She didn’t want her armor to alarm the citizens. Climbing up on the roofs of beige brick office buildings, the Amazon followed him from above. It wasn’t long before Steve ran into a busy main street filled with honking cars, zooming mopeds, and people. The overwhelming stimulates was such a shock to Steve that he took a few steps back until he found a quiet alley. He stood there, hunched over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. As much as he hated to admit it, he was scared.

Finally, Diana was able to catch up and didn’t hesitate for a second to be by his side. She put a gentle hand on his back and tried comforting him. When it seemed like his heart rate was back to normal, Diana softly explained again.

“Steve, the world that you knew of no longer exists. You’ve been gone a century.” Steve’s deep blue eyes looked at her and she could almost feel every ounce of fear in them. “It's 2018. The war you fought so gallantly for is over. And we won.” She smiled softly despite the few tears that slipped out. “Please believe me.” She begged. He had no other choice but to accept. Reluctantly, Diana left Steve’s side and took a few steps away from him. Pulling out her phone she quickly called her intern at the museum. He was the only one who knew her story. “Tim, I need a ride. We’re in Le Havre. Thank you” Diana quickly hung up and went back to Steve. Together they waited for the car to arrive in silence. Steve was still in shock, despite trying to do his best not to show it. He lost hundred years of life. All his friends are dead. The few members of his family that were left are gone. He was completely alone. Diana took a quick glance at the man beside her. The Steve she knew was confident but caring. Sarcastic, yet loving. But looking at him staring blankly at the brick wall in front of him. He was like a shell. And for the first time ever, the Queen of the Amazons began doubting her ability to win her bet with Hades.

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cassxtaylor · 7 years

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The Blackmail (A Post-Para): Philippe & Cassandra

@philippexlinwood

Philippe Linwood: Philippe leisurely strolled around Harvey Nichols, his fingers gently trailing upon the racks of high-end branded clothing fabulously displayed. The luxurious store only catered to the high society of London, which was why he found himself drawn to the place, as it served as the perfect setting for his mischievous plan. The best part of it all was that he knew the place was foolproof, and it would allow him to get some shopping down as well. Two birds with one stone, always.

No doubt she would be here, he thought, as he walked around at a relaxed pace. The Masquerade event was in three days, and she surely would need to pick up a few items from one of her favourite shops. And right on cue, he found her by the accessories area, looking all pristine and as gorgeous as ever. Indeed, it was show time.

Without hesitation, he walked up to her, a bright smile on his face, before speaking out, “Oh, Cassandra. It’s been ages…”

Cassandra Taylor: The planning had been both a learning and a yawning experience. She was thankful that Devlin held the same views about the society soiree as her for if Cass had to keeping planning for events to entertain his acquaintances, she’d have surely lost her mind. Nevertheless, the masquerade ball did have her shred her disdain for pointless interactions and as she strolled around Harvey Nichols, she could even confess that she was actually looking forward to it.

Finding herself in the accessories area, her eyes catching sight of a gorgeous earring, she couldn’t resist the impulse to look at it closely. Its intricate pattern was a piece of art and though a year ago, Cass wouldn’t even have walked in this extravagant store, she now found herself craving for that purchase. Though rarely allowing her own indulgence, even she knew the need to enjoy and pamper herself once a while.

The earring was certainly to be blamed though, as being focused on it made her unaware of just who was approaching from a distance. By the time he came upon her, it was too late to escape and resisting the impulse to bolt, she turned around plastering a bright smile of her own “Philippe. It has. I almost thought you had fallen off the planet. What an unexpected surprise” And an unwanted one too. But she didn’t air that thought

Philippe Linwood: “My dear Cassie,” Philippe greeted her, a glint of evil twinkle in his eyes as he smiled, “that would be Charlotte who have vanished. I, however, remain here.” It had been ages since the last two had spoken, and the time span had not changed the ill feelings he had towards her. Glancing at the gorgeous pair of earrings she had been looking at, the man could not resist but take a closer look, peering down at the display case. “Ah, they’re lovely. They would look beautiful on those ears of yours, Cass.” He said, slowly straightening up. “I’m sure Devlin would be more than happy to get his wife such an exquisite beauty.”

Cassandra Taylor: A string of curses clouded her mind. If only she had been paying more attention, she could have easily dodged him. Nothing good could come out of this encounter, especially not if he was smiling in that way and a flicker of unease rested on her heart though her polite was as friendly as it possibly could be “Charlotte yes. Where is she?” Cass inquired resisting the urge to bite her lips. Nothing made sense anymore, nothing had since she had gone behind their back and committed the cardinal sin of falling in love with their enemy. “Well thank you! I should really get these and be on my way. Lots of things to do you know. With the upcoming event and all” Her eyes flickered to see if there was any shop assistant around but none seemed close enough. Pulling her eyes back closer, she inched further away from him “I am sure you have your own shopping to do. See you later Philippe”

Philippe Linwood: When Cassandra posed the question on Charlotte’s whereabouts his way, the man merely smiled. He was not going to be answering her question, lest she relayed it onto Devlin. He was definitely not letting their enemy know that the Red Queen was currently preoccupied elsewhere. Plus, it was she who needed to do some answering, and not the other way around. Noting her attempt to evade him, Philippe casually stepped to block her path, using his whole body to prevent her from taking another step. “What’s the rush, Cass?” He asked her, before dropping his tone. “Scared of your own past?”

Cassandra Taylor: His smile was beginning to grate on her nerves. Of course he wouldn’t tell her, she wasn’t one of them now. And she wasn’t one of the Strix either. It wasn’t the first time she threw that existential question of just where she belonged up in the air, only to have tangled webs thrown at her in response. She could almost feel her sandcastle starting to crumble and being powerless to do anything about it shattered her soul. She had never not wanted power, a simple tool to decide her own destiny and when she had finally found it, the price she had payed suddenly seemed too much, too final, too irrevocable. Cass wasn’t all that surprised when Philippe blocked her way and not letting the chaos of emotions show on her face at his words, she laughed quietly “My past was me living on the streets with garbage and poverty and drugs and mindless passing faces for company. Why would I be scared of that?” She knew he didn’t mean that past but the past he was referring to had become her current present nightmare

Philippe Linwood: Her feeble attempt at lying was laughable. Poor Cassandra never did quite have that dark side inside of her, never knew how to stand up for herself. She was always only pretty, clever, maybe, but dark? Definitely not. “We all know that that’s not the past I’m referring to.” He sweetly replied, before turning to the rest of the jewels behind the display case. “Say, how about you pretend that you’re browsing still, and maybe, just maybe,” producing his iPhone from his pocket, he showed her the screen, “I won’t hit send on this photo of us to your dear husband.” On the screen was a photo of the three of them, Charlotte, Cassandra and Philippe, hugging each other tightly in a candid shot, the trio mid-laugh on the frame. “Can you just imagine if he sees this?” Philippe taunted.

Cassandra Taylor: She had been gearing to physically push the man out of the way to get away from the situation when his words stopped her cold and her eyes flicked towards the screen. It seemed almost like that scene never happened, like that closeness had never existed, like that once tight friendship had not blown away in this manner. She could still remember Philippe and her arguing with Charlotte over her decision to send her out as a spy, but Charlotte won the debate, she always did. Cass wondered for a moment what would have happened if she hadn’t been on the mission. Would they have now been plotting against destroying and ripping the Taylors apart? That reality was too grim to contemplate and instead she turned towards another earring with a slight shrug “What of it? Anyone could say it was photoshopped. No one really knows except us and I think my dear husband would have a good laugh at that picture” she retorted nonchalantly. She really didn’t know if Dev would actually be laughing at the photo but one thing was certain, showing Philippe Linwood fear was never a good idea

Philippe Linwood: Of course she would not go down without a fight. But Philippe knew her all too well, as he simply swiped on the screen, before tapping it so, thus playing the video. On his screen played this: Cassandra and Charlotte, gleefully laughing, the same setting and the same day of the previous shot, while Philippe spoke on the background. A song played on, the two girls dancing around, before Charlotte made a reach for the camera, such that she vanished into the frame, and Philippe entered, his arms wrapped around Cass’ as the two giggled, before he planted a swift peck on her cheek, with Cass sticking her tongue out at the camera. The video halted then, as the man raised a brow in her direction. “Still think it’s Photoshop?”

Cassandra Taylor: She swore under her breath almost reaching out to snatch that offending device off his hand. Of course he had a plan. He was nothing if not efficient and while at the Royals, she had appreciated that quality, now it simply brought a bitter taste to her mouth. Cass tried seeing it through Dev’s eyes, seeing his wife being on super friendly terms with his enemy. Could her past be downplayed? Could she tell him they had all been friends at one point and had a falling out because Cass did not agree with Charlotte’s ideals? It sounded like a believable explanation. Expertly covering up the rising unease in her expression, she turned to give Philippe almost a nonchalant look “Okay well not Photoshop but not everyone’s past is stellar. Devlin will think I probably had a few questionable connections. That’s all”

Philippe Linwood: He had to give it to her, the lady had grown tougher under Devlin’s care. Normally, she would have cracked by now, but it seemed as if the Taylors had influenced Cassie to be unfazed, unlike before. “Really? You think Devlin wouldn’t think twice about his wife singing along and hugging the Red Queen and the Royal Prince?” The man commented, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “What about the hundreds more of photos and videos that we have, Cass? What about the messages, e-mails, and phone calls to your phone? What about the file folder we have of you detailing everything there is to know about you, Cassandra De Salva?” Philippe hissed the last two words, leaning in ever so slightly.

Cassandra Taylor: She should have known it was a lost case but she wouldn’t back down without a fight. It was why instead of revealing fear, she simply crossed her arms, bristling and a tiny bit unnerved at the use of her maiden name. It had been ages since anyone had called her that, but she knew he had won this round. There were e-mails and she didn’t think Devlin would take it lightly. He not just loved her, he trusted her and to have that rug pulled away from his feet would be a fall she really didn’t want to witness. “What do you want Philippe?” Cass almost growled “You do know it goes both ways don’t you? If you attempt to destroy me, I have the equal amount of ammunition to destroy you. State your purpose and go your merry way”

Philippe Linwood: That simple act of her crossing her arms was the confirmation he needed. She may not show it, but the man was successful in finding a detail to get under her skin. Straightening up, he smoothed his outerwear jacket, casually going on as if he was not threatening the woman just now. “I know, but you won’t use it now, will you?” Glancing up to her, he rested his hands behind him, standing in a power stance. “My sources tell me that the Strix had a new shipment of weapons. How on Earth you lot managed to find another weapons dealer is beyond me,” Philippe shrugged, uncaring, “but, the question remains: where is it? Where are the weapons, Mrs. Taylor?”

Cassandra Taylor: You Lot That just spoke of where he considered her to be. A part of the Strix and she would have perhaps if she didn’t have a death knell of a mission hanging over her head. She didn’t reply to his rhetorical question, merely raised her eyebrow enough to indicate that she could and she would. Even if it killed her. If they attempted to destroy her, she would not go down without a fight. At his inquiry, her brows furrowed in confusion “Weapons? What are you talking about? Last I know they had signed a deal for TM and are celebrating the success. Devlin trusts me yes, but I am not an official member of the gang to be privy to all information. Sorry I couldn’t help” she deadpanned and turned to try on an earring. Where on earth were the staff members when you needed them?

Philippe Linwood: “Cass, don’t lie to me.” The man pouted, feigning the innocence of that of a child’s. “You know, Charlotte may think that you’re still on our side, but I damn well know that you’ve fallen for that husband of yours.” Philippe could see it, because he knew the look of love when he saw it. Heck, she wore the same look that he used to wear around Marie. You could just pick up on it, even from miles away. “See, I wonder what happens if we just cancel your mission right here, right now. You know, since you’re obviously working for them now by refusing to give me the information you were sent for.” Truth be told, he was getting sick and tired of how long this exchange was going. The Taylors had succeeded in influencing Cassandra, by turning her into one of them. She could deny it all she wanted, but he saw right through her act. “I’m getting tired.” He told her, his tone dangerously dropping to an undesirable level.

Cassandra Taylor: “I am not lying. I honestly have no clue what weapons or dealers you are talking about Philippe. Maybe you should ask your source for more information. If they got it once, they’d get it again” She turned to look right in his eye willing him to believe she was being honest, neither blinking nor covering in fear or uncertainty. Her face still had its polite friendliness, not even reacting to his very correct observation of just how much she had fallen for her husband nor to his comment about cancelling her mission. She wanted to get away but their destinies now were so tangled, she doubted any of them would come out of it unscarred. “So am I. Look here…if you want to know who the guests are for the event, I can give you that list. That’s the only information I have in hand. Now if you’ll excuse me” she pushed past him cursing that she couldn’t make a run for it

Philippe Linwood: No longer amused with their little charade, Philippe grabbed Cassandra’s arm, a tight grip on the delicate limb underneath. “Frankly, you’re still working for us. So it’s either you cough up the information, or you’re fired.” He seethed, his chocolate-hued eyes no longer kind, as they roared with fire. “And trust me, you know what happens to ex-employees who are too much of a liability to the gang.” Narrowing his eyes, he kept his hold on her, completely confident despite the public setting they were in. “Are you sure your husband can protect you the moment you step out of this building’s doors? You might not even be able to step one foot out, Cass.” Because he never travelled alone, the man had managed to secure three of the Royal assassins, positioned just outside at various points, waiting for his cue. “I’d start talking if I were you.” He was not above killing her anymore.

Cassandra Taylor: Her eyes widened momentarily not expecting to hear what she was hearing. She had always been under the impression that no matter what, Charlotte or Philippe wouldn’t kill her. She wasn’t like any other member on their payroll. She had been their closest friend but now, looking into his furious eyes, she knew the lines had been crossed and frankly she couldn’t even blame them. But the fact that she could be killed rested heavily on her head, though she simply didn’t know how to react to that. Her eyes looked away from a moment trying to spot where their cams would be. What kind of high security shop wouldn’t have assistants all around? Biting her bottom lip she looked at him trying to be as earnest as possible “What happens if you fire me? I have no clue about the weapons. Why on earth would Devlin tell me??” She knew how important that was to him, he had talked of nothing else for days and her heart twisted at the thought of sabotaging it all

Philippe Linwood: Philippe’s brow quirked, as if daring her to challenge him even more. Ever since Charlotte had decided to go away and leave it all behind to him, it was safe to say that the man had succumbed to the role he played, acting more and more like the evil genius of a leader he always ambitioned himself to be. “Fired employees make for dead employees.” He merely stated, a twitch of the corner of his mouth turning upright. “Now, let me ask you again: tell me where the location of the weapons is, Cassandra.” This time, his voice was stronger, more forceful, as his grip on her arm tightened.

Cassandra Taylor: She visibly flinched at his grip, knowing it would bruise and knowing she’d have to come up with another spew of lies to hide just what was happening. “I don’t know the location. I swear of my mother I don’t” Cass erupted trying to pull away. The fact that she had even mentioned her mother Catalina should be proof enough that she wasn’t lying “I know the date. That’s all I know. He keeps all information in his safe. No one knows the combination except him. I am not lying. I just know the date. It’s the 21st of July. Whatever is happening will happen then. That’s all I know…having me killed won’t serve any purpose” she insisted quietly tugging at her arms. Granted she had lied about the date too but Philippe would never really know that. Philippe Linwood: She was fighting, struggling to get out of his grip, but Philippe was far stronger than she was when it came down to it. “Well, well, well.” She was starting to cough up facts now. “A safe? Where is this safe? I know for a fact that you know where it is, Cass. Come on. Spill it out.” He sing-songed, boring his intense gaze into hers. “You know I won’t stop or tell them to back down lest you tell me.”

Cassandra Taylor: His grip was really starting to hurt and she contemplated screaming bloody murder for a moment but one look at his thunderous expression and she knew he’d quick likely kill her and pay people for their silence. She was digging into her lips almost drawing blood thinking fast. Devlin always locked his office and there was security everywhere plus she could warn him to keep more security around too. Philippe would get the information but he won’t be able to do anything with it “His office! Underneath the couch cushion” another lie who Philippe wouldn’t know that “Now let me go!!”

Philippe Linwood: Maybe it was because he knew that he was hurting her enough, or that he had threatened her life, or the fact that under duress, he knew Cassandra could not lie, but either way, Philippe finally loosened his hold, before completely letting go. “See, that wasn’t so bad.” He murmured, as he straightened up, before taking another peek at the display case they had been peering at a while ago. “Really, Cass, you must get those earrings.” With a turn of his heel, the man began to walk away, speaking into his earpiece for the assassins to back off. “Ta-ta, De Salva. ‘Till next time!” He waved good bye, back towards her still, as he strolled off into the exit, particularly pleased with himself, as he got what he came for.

Cassandra Taylor: Her knees almost buckled as she clutched the counter and shut her eyes tightly. This had to end. She couldn’t go on at all, hurting the ones she loved and that safe contained almost all secrets Dev ever stored. She would have to think of something, anything to salvage the situation, her eyes darkening at Philippe’s happy exit. She wouldn’t let the Royals win, they were her friends…correction, they had been her friends but now that was well and truly over. Almost slamming the earring on the counter, she rushed towards the car and to that one person whose trust she didn’t deserve but was hell bent on preserving. Even if it killed her.

#philippe #putting it under 'read more' cos it's long af #but damnnn we did this xDD

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evilbrennan · 6 years

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WIP plop

Everyone be posting WIP here and I just made this thing to plop boardgamenerdgasm stuff to, but now I’m feeling left out.

So here’s the best plop in Dauntless, a novel about kids with superpowers punching holes in things in a sort of Alt-WW1 setting.

“When we were finally released, we burst out into the cool night and lay in the grass just breathing and laughing at the absurdity of it all. The stars were bright and plentiful and we were all too tired from the heat to do much else besides lay there and talk. London put his head on my chest and Dauntless and Simone were on either side of us. We caught our breath and I started pointing out constellations that Annette showed me. They were Gorbanian beliefs, but no less valid than our own.

“That one’s Zachariah. He’s the one who brought fire from the stars to the sun, and then down to us. He built these giant tongs that could reach far out into space and began to pluck starlight out of the sky and when he was done, he threw the tongs into the ice that surrounded him and the heat radiating off of them melted the snow and created the oceans. “

“Hell of a set of tongs” Dauntless said.

“You think they would have found them by now” Simone noted.

“They did” I told them, “they broke from the change in temperature and shattered into hundreds of pieces. That’s where the Chenasse mountain range comes from.”

Dauntless laughed, “Of course. That makes sense.

”I shrugged, “Makes about as much sense as our constellations do.”

“I don’t know much about ours.” London said, the odd sense of a rare sadness tinging his voice, “no one really told me about it.”

“I’ll show you.” said Simone, “That one there, the one that is the bottom part of a square? See it there? That’s Klaus the gambler. He’s represented by a single playing card. He won the freedom of all human beings from under the control of all the gods. They were free to choose what they were meant to do, how to do it, and what to believe in. He eventually ended up banished along with all the old gods because the gods were so angry at losing that they dragged him along to oblivion.”

“Yeah, the tongs were a little more believable” London said, “What game did they play?”

“An ancient one” Simone said, “One that, because they lost it, also got banished along with anyone who knew what it was called.”

London laughed, “Your old gods are screwy.”

“They’re your old gods too.” Dauntless said, “Simone’s from Ardeen too.”

“First I’ve heard of them.” London mumbled.

“What about you?” Dauntless said to Ayda, “What sort of nonsense does your country fill your head with?”

“Where are you from, anyway?” asked Simone.“Agnolia” she replied.

Dauntless propped himself up on his elbows, looking at her with a mix of confusion and concern.

“North or south?” he asked.

“The very north. Beside Great Bushani.”

Great Bushani, besides being the biggest body of water surrounded by many different nations, was the area that was notoriously demolished by the Estana push to capture the capital of Agnolia which sat nearby. Villages were put to the torch, children bayoneted, workers rounded up and shot just to make a point, and a very specific point that they were not there to take prisoners of any sort. Dauntless, while also from Agnolia, came from the deep south, a region far removed from the fighting due to it’s little population and scant resources, and probably had a very different worldview despite having been born within the same borders.

We all grew a little quiet as we waited for one of us to say something, anything to distract us from the horrors that Ayda had witnessed and survived, but everyone stayed silent, not knowing how to continue the conversation.

“My parents didn’t show me a lot of constellations.” Ayda said, breaking the silence at long last, “my uncle showed me his favourite though. Just the once. He said he would show me more, but…”

Again, the quiet grew like a stain on a wound dressing until she spoke again,

“I’ve been trying to find it since you were talking about them, but I can’t make it out. I remember the story though.”

“Could you tell it?” London asked, his voice hiding a slight quaver.

She took a deep breath and then began. The sound of her voice, a low, melodious song, that started deep in her gut and rolled out of her mouth caught us all off guard. She sang an old song, a song from a land that barely existed anymore, from a people slaughtered and crushed under treads and boot heels, an anguished and beautiful song that likes I have never heard before or since. The lyrics were lost on all of us as she sang it in Agnolian, and even though I knew a few phrases, the language of the verses was unknowingly old, so much so that I couldn’t understand the smallest bit of it.

The chorus rose and fell like the waves of an ocean, trailing notes behind it like a splintering hull as a ship breaks apart. Her voice cracked but once along the voyage to completion, but it was from the emotional weight this act carried with it, not the strain of doing so and it made it all the more touching.

When she finished, I cleared my throat a little after I felt how dry it was and before I could speak, she told us what the song had been about.

“There were people that once lived on the far side of Great Bushani and one day, they grew hungry, cold, and tired. They had been hammered by storms. Trees had been uprooted and blown away while they huddled fearfully in their homes. The things they relied on for food and shelter were all gone and winter was at hand. Before the lake froze, they would have to make a ship to get to the other side, where they knew things would be better, greener, warmer. They looked around and could only find one tree left standing. Their sacred tree. It was so tall it could scrape the clouds, and so wide, the village could not hold hands around it in a circle. They had spent generations carving their story into this tree and it told the legend of the village and all who had lived there. Some said that it was such a mighty tree if they had cut it down, the villagers could simply walk over it to the over side of Great Bushani, but that was a foolish idea.

They eventually decided that they would cut it down, construct a great ship to carry them on to the other side and there, there they would live among the long grass and plentiful trees that surely were there. As they chopped, cut, pulled and dragged that immense being to the ground, all wept as they did so. It took nearly a month to get it down and already the lake had begun to freeze. Great Bushani doesn’t freeze completely and walking across it was surely death, so the only option was to hurry before they froze and starved. All through the cold they worked, the biting frost slowing their hands and making their breath short until one day, they had finished.

By the time the ship was done, only 10 people remained. The rest lay where they had fallen, frozen and gaunt with saws and hammers in hand. The ship was big enough for the whole village, but only those were still alive would make the voyage. All the others couldn’t be pried off the ground they were stuck to.

The food was all gone and the remaining villagers had loaded all the other supplies, blankets, books, trinkets from home, and shoved the enormous craft onto the frozen lake and began the push it along the path they had carved into the ice. The boat scraped and gouged its way towards the cold water and finally, after their arms ached and knees groaned, the ice cracked and gave way. The villagers pulled themselves up into the boat and rowed as fiercely as they could, battling the biting wind and the crashing waves all while the ice crumbled in front of them.

The lake is so huge and so far across, that it takes them days of open water to reach the other side. By the time they reach it, there’s only two people left, a man and a woman. They woke up, shaken out of their exhaustion by hitting ice again. They check on their friends and family, but find them rooted to the spot, oars stuck mid-row in their hands. They jump out, sliding on the ice, and walk to the shore. Among the snow and trees, they found goats, and roots, food enough for them to survive the harsh cold.

They lived in the relative shelter of the ship and lived long enough to see the spring, but one day a fire broke out and engulfed the whole ship in flame, killing them both. The only thing that remained was a large section of the ship with an incomplete history of its people carved into the interior.

Years later, people came, drawn by the same things the people from the other side of the lake had dreamed of and found it, washed ashore and hard as stone. They studied it and wrote that song about them, leaving the piece of the boat in what would become their town hall. The song is called, ‘O wind, O ice, O fire, O heart’ and my uncle taught it to me before the Estanians came.

”We waited for anything else she had to say and she finally said, “I still can’t find the constellation.”

“What is it?” London asked.

“It’s the boat, stretching from one shore to the other.” Ayda told him.

“Maybe we can find it together.” I said and we spent the next hour or so talking and pointing out other stars and the constellation we thought it should be and making up stories about mad gods and the brave heroes who defied them to be forever immortalised among the dark sky above.

When we got tired and headed to bed, London and I shared my room like we always had. He asked me if I had met anyone during the years that stood between us and I told him about Annette. When I asked him, he told me that he didn’t think that’s really what he wanted. We held hands and slept in the same bed like kids do, for comfort. He smelled different. The sweat that had dried on his skin reminded me of spending nights in trenches which oddly helped me sleep.

And then we were off to war once again.

#writeblr #wip #@lilamina #@dantedevereaux

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rollinbrigittenv8 · 7 years

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Do Seatback Screens on Planes Have a Future? — Skift Airline Innovation Report

Delta Air Lines is one of the few carriers investing in both in-seat entertainment and fast Wi-Fi. Pictured is Delta's new premium economy for long-haul flights. Delta Air Lines

Skift Take: Seatback entertainment screens are so 2002. Airlines should remove them and focus on what their highest-value travelers actually want — fast, reliable Wi-Fi. Passengers who care about quality entertainment can load up their own devices with stuff they actually want to watch. Or they can stream from a server on the plane.

— Brian Sumers

The Skift Airline Innovation Report is our weekly newsletter focused on the business of airline innovation. We will look closely at the technological, financial, and design trends at airlines and airports that are driving the next-gen aviation industry.

We provide insights on need-to-know developments in passenger experience, ancillary services, revenue management, loyalty, technology, marketing, airport innovation, the competitive landscape, startups, and changing passenger behavior. The newsletter, sent on Wednesdays, is written and curated by me. We will look closely at the technological, financial, and design trends at airlines and airports that are driving the next-generation aviation industry. You can find previous issues of the newsletter here.

What’s the point of embedded in-flight entertainment systems?

They’re heavy. They’re not as sophisticated as consumer electronics. They break more often than airlines would like. They rarely have enough content to satisfy all passenger segments. And, because of the lead time required to produce, certify and install the systems, they’re often technologically obsolete before their first flight.

Yet they persist. Almost every full-service airline installs in-seat screens on all long-haul planes. Some, such as Singapore Airlines and Emirates and even Delta Air Lines, use screens as a competitive advantage, loading them with high-definition content people want to watch. But for many others, entertainment seems like an afterthought — something airlines feel they must provide, but don’t put much effort into.

A few airlines have given up. Mostly, these are discounters, including Norwegian Air on its Boeing 737 Max, and Wow Air. But other airlines have begun to take similar approaches for midrange flights. Qantas doesn’t have screens on some A330s, instead giving iPads for longer domestic routes. And United Airlines didn’t put embedded systems into its revamped high-density Boeing 777s. Mostly, they fly shorter domestic routes, but they’re also used on Guam-Honolulu, a seven-hour flight. (We’ve heard rumors these cost-friendly United aircraft may fly to Europe soon.)

I don’t understand why screens are so sacrosanct. In so many ways, from flyer programs to lounges to segmented onboard products, airlines cater to their highest-value customers. But business travelers rarely choose airlines for in-flight entertainment. If they want entertainment, they can load their tablets with what they want to see — not what the airline chooses. If customers pick an airline based on screens, they’re probably leisure customers of lower value to the airline.

What do business travelers want? Well, I have recently become one — Skift sends me on trips often to learn about airline trends — and I think I am beginning to understand what road warriors crave. We need reliable Wi-Fi. It doesn’t need to be super fast, but must be good enough for the basics. In 2017, I can’t lose a day of productivity because an airline has prioritized entertainment over Wi-Fi. When my CEO needs me, he expects a response.

This week, we published an interview with Jon Norris, senior director for corporate sales and marketing at Panasonic Avionics. I tried to ask (gently) whether there’s a future for embedded systems. Norris is a salesman, so of course he sees a bright future. But I’m not so optimistic. Remember, embedded in-flight entertainment has only been around for a couple of decades — before that we watched movies on overhead screens. Embedded systems may not last forever.

What do you think? Does embedded in-flight entertainment have a long-term future? Email me your thoughts to [email protected] or on Twitter. I’m @briansumers. Or, if you’re feeling adventurous, follow me on Instagram, and send me a note there. I’m @bsumers.

— Brian Sumers, Airline Business Reporter

What’s coming up

I’ve been working on a longer story about why many airlines have fallen behind with their e-commerce strategies. My favorite quote comes from Peter Glade, commericial director for Sun Express, a European leisure airline owned by Lufthansa and Turkish Airlines. He told me airlines must improve their approaches, or another company — perhaps Google or Amazon, or even another firm that doesn’t exist yet — will handle retailing for them.

In short, he said, an airline must decide whether it wants to be Uber, or the Uber driver.

“Our decision as an airline shall be, ‘Am I the one that is transporting the passenger from A to B, or am I the one that is managing the problem that the customer has to an extent so that the customer is happy and wants to fly with me again,'” Glade told me. “Do I want to be a transportation organization or a problem solver?”

What do you think of his analogy?

Most Interesting Stories of the Week

Interview: Why In-Flight Entertainment Screens May Persist on Long-Haul Routes: As I mentioned, Panasonic’s Jon Norris is the latest subject in my new interview series called Airline Insiders, in which I introduce readers to executives with interesting jobs. My next two interviews are with the vice president for innovation at Gate Group, and the director of planning at Allegiant Air. Do you know of someone I might interview next? The only requirement: All subjects must have a playful sense of humor. Email me if you want in.

J.D. Power Finds U.S. Frequent Flyers Prefer JetBlue’s Loyalty Program: J.D. Power ranks everything, including cars, electronics and banks. A few years ago, it started ranking airline loyalty programs, and this year, it claims it interviewed 3,400 Americans to determine their favorites. The winner was JetBlue — a surprise to those of us who cover loyalty. JetBlue offers an easy-to-understand program, but it’s far from the most generous. “JetBlue has a regional and simple program but doesn’t offer much of an opportunity beyond simple rebates,” Gary Leff, of ViewFromTheWing, told me. J.D. Power didn’t share its methodology, so we don’t know what questions the company asked.

Surf Air Positions Itself for the Post-Brexit Commuter: California-based all-you-can-fly airline Surf Air often reinvents itself. Management changes often, as does the airline’s route network. Yes, Surf Air has consistently flown California short-haul flights since it started in 2013, but the company has been constantly searching for the next-best-thing. Surf Air recently expanded to Europe, where it expects its subscription business will thrive, with full members paying more than $4,000 per month to fly as much as they want from private terminals in London, Cannes, Ibiza and Zurich. Colin Nagy’s Skift’s business travel columnist, thinks it can thrive. I’m less sure.

VietJet Mulls U.S. Route With Widebody Planes: Low-cost airline VietJet wants to acquire big jets and fly from Vietnam to California as soon as 2019, according to a Bloomberg story posted on Skift. We commend VietJet for disrupting the Southeast Asia short-haul market, but long-haul operations are another story. Yes, lots of Vietnamese-Americans live in Southern California, but this cannot be a good idea. Brendan Sobie, an analyst with CAPA – Centre for Aviation, put it better. “The prospect of making money on this route is bleak,” he said.

Emirates Upgrades First-Class Suites While Competitors Downplay Such Luxury: In September, I interviewed Emirates President Tim Clark in London, and he promised the airline’s new suites would be “game changers.” It’s an overused phrase, but perhaps it was apt. Emirates introduced its new first class for the Boeing 777-300ER, and Bloomberg reports it has all the over-the-top luxury you’d expect — including technology that creates fake window views for passengers in middle seats. Oddly, Emirates isn’t in a rush to reconfigure most of the fleet, and some aircraft may never get the new suite. Travelers may book the 777-300ER thinking they’ll get it, only to be disappointed.

Investment Group Plans to Bring World Airways Back From the Dead: Apparently Ed Wegel knows only one formula — resurrecting defunct airlines using old logos and newer planes. Several years ago, he brought back Eastern Air Lines, and many reporters — including me, for Conde Nast Traveler — wrote light-hearted stories about airline nostalgia. But the new Eastern didn’t grow as Wegel promised, and earlier this year some of its assets were purchased by charter operator Swift Air. Wegel has a new project — recreating World Airways. He told Bloomberg his investment group wants to acquire 10 Boeing 787s. Then again, when he led Eastern, the airline ordered at least 20 Mitsubishi MRJ90s, an aircraft the airline nicknamed, the “Eastern Whisperjet.”