#if any of you needs to go to Versailles one day remember that the car parks are stupidly expensive

[aneurinallday]

Green Eyes

Chapter 7: A New Life

By the time doubt began to creep in at the edges, it was too late - the promise had already been made, and Thomas Shelby had no intention of breaking his word.

As they departed Birmingham City on a cloudy afternoon in early April, Alec cradled the baby in his lap and stared out of the car window. He watched as the factories and terraces turned into semi-detached houses with little gardens, then into farmhouses and crops - urban rot giving way to suburban tedium and finally into open country.

“Look, Clara,” he said, lifting her up, “There are cows.”

“Ever been out of the city before?” Thomas asked.

“No. At least, I don’t think so. Maybe my parents took me when I was a child and I don’t remember.”

“Who were your parents?”

“Nobody worth remembering.”

“Dead, then?”

“Maybe. I don’t even know.”

Onwards they drove. Alec rested his head against the glass, and looked on as the only life he’d ever known disappeared out of sight, a new life beginning to creep in at the edges. Thomas was silent at the wheel. Nothing needed to be said.

At some point Alec dozed off, Clara fast asleep in his arms, until a bump in the road jolted him awake and he found himself surrounded by the wide fields and rolling hills of Warwickshire. He glanced in the rear-view mirror as if expecting to see the city in the distance, but saw only more sky. They were in the true countryside now.

“Are we almost there?” he asked.

“Need to piss?”

“No, but she will soon.”

“Just as well. Look to your left.”

Alec obeyed. The wild hedgerows turned into well-kept hedges, and the asphalt into gravel, and soon they turned a corner to see their destination awaiting them: a red-brick manor-house with a symmetrical facade of stone accents and mullioned bay windows, its roofs punctuated by neat rows of chimneys.

“This is your home?” Alec exclaimed. “It’s beautiful.”

“Were you expecting something else?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure what, though.”

Thomas parked somewhat carelessly - he knew a manservant would come and take the car to the garages - and they stepped out into the breeze. Alec breathed deep of the country air.

“It smells different,” he said, “It smells clean.”

“There’s not a steel foundry for miles,” said Thomas. “Just some rich people’s summer homes.” Relieved to be out of the car, he lit a cigarette and began to puff.

Holding the baby with one arm, Alec reached for his meagre belongings in the back seat.

“Leave it. The servants will bring everything up to your room.”

“My room? Not yours?”

Thomas wasn’t sure if Alec was teasing or not.

“Let’s go inside,” he said, and led the way towards the porch, gravel crunching under their shoes.

Alec turned to look back the way they’d come, admiring the colourful flowerbeds and carefully curated topiary. He wasn’t sure where the property ended and the surrounding farmland began.

“All this land - it belongs to you?”

“That’s right.”

“And those fields too?”

“Two-thousand acres,” Thomas confirmed.

Realising Alec was no longer behind him, he glanced back. Alec was lingering at the flowerbeds, trying to get Clara to pluck a blossom.

“Come on,” Thomas summoned him, “Let’s get inside.”

They passed through the stone-columned porch and into the main hall, over which loomed the grand staircase.

“Welcome to Arrow House,” Thomas sighed, “I’ll show you around, but I don’t have all day. Come on.”

He guided Alec around the downstairs in a business-like manner, unable to hide his disinterest in the trappings of his own wealth.

Alec followed him in awe, craning his neck to marvel at the high ceilings and glittering chandeliers. By the standards of the rich, it was a home like any other. But to him, it was a palace to rival Versailles. He soaked in every detail: the wood-panelled walls and gold-framed paintings, the fur rugs and patterned carpets, the figurine lamps on pedestals and little ornaments on mantelpieces. Despite its lavishness, it wasn’t gaudy like the Arcadia - these things had been chosen for their elegance, not for their shine.

“Look at that, Clara,” he cooed, “This is our home now. Mister Shelby is going to let us live here. Isn’t he kind to us?”

The baby was less concerned with their new residence and more with her father’s shirt. Oblivious to the opulence surrounding her, she grasped at his lapels with tiny hands, and attempted to put the buttons in her mouth.

“The building is from the 1830s,” said Thomas as they entered the parlour, “Or the 1840s, I can’t remember. You’d be better off asking the housekeeper, she knows more than - ”

“A piano!” Alec interrupted.

With the giddy eagerness of a child on Christmas morning, he hurried past Thomas to admire the grand piano that stood in the middle of the parlour. He reached for the black-and-white keys with one hand, but stopped himself before touching them.

“Do you play, Mister Shelby?”

“Not for the life of me. I bought it for my son.”

“I can play. Not very well, but I know how. The pianist at the club was giving me lessons, but Mister Cobb made him stop. He said my singing was hard enough to listen to without me subjecting people to an instrument too.”

“Sounds like an excuse. He probably didn’t want you learning another skill. Too many skills and you’d be able to find another job.”

“Maybe. He also said I looked better standing up, not sitting down.”

“Well, that’s Cobb’s business. You can play as much as you like.”

“Thank you.”

“Now come on, let’s go. I’ve got work to do.”

They continued onwards. Thomas pushed open the door of the library which served as his study. Alec gaped at the carven bookshelves which towered all the way up to the ceiling, stacked with antique classics.

“Here’s the library, and that’s where I do my work. You can read all of the books you want, but don’t go near my desk.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“Good.”

They’d circled back around to the main hall, reaching the foot of the grand staircase.

“It’s so big in here,” said Alec, “I feel like I can finally breathe. We could go days without seeing each other, if we wanted.”

“Already avoiding me?”

“No, but you might get tired of having me around.”

Ascending the stairs, they passed a large family portrait: Thomas, Grace, and a baby boy.

“Is that your wife?”

“Yes.”

“She’s very beautiful.”

“She was,” Thomas agreed curtly.

“How did you meet - ”

“Don’t talk about her.”

Alec was silent the rest of the way up the staircase. They passed the master bedroom - the door of which was firmly shut - and several guest rooms before reaching a south-facing suite.

“This is you,” he said, and watched as Alec stepped into what must’ve felt like a dream.

Like the rest of the house, it was richly furnished in dark rosewood and mahogany, with elegant lamps and floor-length embroidered curtains. There was a chaise longue where he could sit and read, and a soft rug to greet his feet in the morning, and a bed wide enough for two.

“All of this is mine and Clara’s?”

“All of it.”

“It’s twice the size of my flat in Saltley.” Alec ducked into the bathroom, and let out a wordless exclamation as he discovered the large porcelain tub, complete with hot and cold taps. “And there’s proper plumbing! Look, Clara! I won’t have to put water on the stove any more.”

Thomas snorted with amusement.

“Next door is the nursery,” he said.

“Nursery?” Alec re-emerged from the bathroom with a confused expression.

“She’ll need her own space, and so will you.”

“Oh.” Alec hadn’t even considered the prospect. With Clara in his arms, he sat down on the edge of the bed. As he looked around the room, the glow of excitement seemed to fade, and the overwhelming reality of the situation - that he was going to be living here for the foreseeable future - seemed to set in. He looked lost.

“Are you hungry?” Thomas asked.

“Yes. But tired too.”

“Get some rest. I’ll send food up for you, and fruit for the baby.”

“Thank you. Will the servants care about…you know…us?”

“No. They’re used to it by now. And I pay them too well for them to care.”

Glad to be done with the awkward business of the tour, Thomas retreated to his study. He attempted to lose himself in his work, but was unable to shake Alec’s presence from his mind. He tried not to consider the gravity of his decision, opening his doors to a near-stranger. The grand promises of a better future he’d made because he was rich enough to indulge himself in fleeting fantasies.

If things turned sour and he was compelled to eject Alec from his home, there was no question that Clara would have to go too - separating the pair was unthinkable. But why should a baby be punished, simply because its father had failed to stay in Thomas Shelby’s good graces? Even if Thomas let them go with a generous sum of money, the emotional toll it would take on Alec - having a good, safe home within his grasp and then losing it - would be cruel.

The potential for this arrangement to turn into a mess made Thomas wonder if it was even worth the risk. But then he remembered the chandelier-light falling on Alec’s upturned face, and the happiness overflowing from the young man in that moment, and his doubts subsided. Joy like that, even if it proved temporary, was worth any risk.

Thomas was so absorbed in his business that he didn’t realise the room had grown dark until a maid tapped on the door.

“Shall I turn the main light on, Mister Shelby? You’ll strain your eyes.”

“Hm?” Thomas glanced up at the grandfather clock, disorientated to find that he needed his glasses to tell the time. “No, no. I’m about to turn in. Thanks, Mary.”

He retired for the night, but along the way, stopped by Alec’s guest room. He found it empty. Alec’s belongings had been unpacked and were strewn haphazardly about, as if he hadn’t decided where to store them yet. Shirts with mended elbows, combs with missing teeth, a flapper dress whose tassels were fraying at the ends. Thomas took stock of how inadequate the inventory was, already half-planning to replace these tatty things with tailored suits and expensive perfumes, before remembering that he’d done plenty already.

On the spacious bed was a cold, half-eaten tray of food: fruit salad, Duchess potatoes, blanched and seasoned vegetables, and a game pie containing venison, hare, partridge, pigeon, and pheasant in a rich gravy, the pastry decorated with a braided design of leaves and flowers. The unfamiliar luxury of it must’ve sickened an already anxious stomach. Alec had probably never eaten deer in his life.

“I’m in here, Mister Shelby,” a soft voice came through the wall. Alec must’ve heard his footsteps.

Thomas found him in the nursery, standing over the curtained crib where he’d placed Clara, gazing down at her while she chewed toothlessly on her old teddy bear’s paw. Toys were everywhere: on the shelves and on the dresser and on the floor. Painted dolls with real hair, and carved soldiers with red coats. Wooden dogs and horses on wheels, with strings for pulling them around. More toys than Alec could’ve ever imagined buying for his daughter. By the window was a rocking chair, where he could sit with her on picturesque afternoons and look out across the gardens.

Without raising his head at the sound of Thomas’s entrance, he said:

“It’s lovely in here. Was this your son’s room?”

“Yes.” Thomas’s gaze fell on a folded blanket on the shelf - a crocheted baby blanket with Charles’s initials worked into the pattern, probably a gift from one of Grace’s friends. He quickly looked away. “Most of these things were his. Some are new.”

“I always…” Alec began, but then hesitated. “I always dreamed, but I never thought…Thank you for everything, Mister Shelby.”

He swayed on his feet, and gripped the side of Clara’s crib to steady himself.

“I don’t deserve her,” he said, “I don’t any of this. I’ve done nothing but bad things in my life. How could so many good things happen to me?”

“You’re tired,” said Thomas. “Go to bed.”

“I’m not sure if I should.” Alec didn’t take his eyes off the sleeping baby.  “I don’t like her sleeping alone. What if something happens?”

“Nothing will happen. She’ll be fine.”

“I know. I know, it’s just…We’ve always shared a room. Always.”

“You’ll only be a door away. You’ll hear her if she cries.”

“What if you hear it too? I don’t want her to disturb you. You might get…irritated.”

“I’ve lived with crying babies before. I’ll survive. Go to bed.”

“I will,” Alec promised, “I’ll wait ‘til she’s settled.”

“Suit yourself.”

Thomas left him standing there with his thoughts, and went to bed with his own. As he undressed in the lamplight, he felt - if only for a moment - a strange discomfort that he couldn’t define. Perhaps a sense of shame, but he wasn’t sure why. What did he have to be embarrassed about? His age? His wealth? His line of work?

He brushed off the feeling, dimmed the lamps, and climbed between the covers. As he usually did, he turned his back to Grace’s side of the bed. The darkness settled over him like a blanket.

Through half-asleep ears, he heard the door-knob turn and the floorboards creak softly. Grace, he thought. Then a voice whispered:

“Mister Shelby?”

Thomas jolted awake, reaching instinctively for the pistol in his bedside drawer, but stopped himself before he touched it.

Alec was standing over the bed in a white night-shirt, his curls tousled from a failed attempt to sleep.

“Did I wake you?” he asked.

“Yes.” Thomas was scanning the young man’s hands, searching for a weapon. Alec was unarmed. Of course. Thomas sighed at his own reaction. “What do you want?”

“Can I sleep with you?”

“You don’t need to.”

“But I want to.”

“Alright. If you insist.”

Alec eased under the duvet, and drew himself close until their bodies were pressed together. His feet were cold from crossing the floorboards that separated their rooms.

“You’re warm,” he murmured. “I’ve missed this. Have you?”

Thomas said nothing. ‘No’ would’ve been a lie, but ‘yes’ would’ve been an admittance of weakness he wasn’t ready to make.

“You can come to my room whenever you want,” Alec whispered, “Or I can come to yours - ”

“Just go to sleep,” Thomas interjected.

Alec dutifully fell silent. The gentle puffs of his breath against Thomas’s shoulder became slower and steadier, until he was fast asleep.

Thomas stared into the dark. The sensation of another body in his marriage bed was so familiar, yet so different it was almost disconcerting. The empty space where Grace had once lain had been filled, but by someone who didn’t belong there. It felt wrong, and yet…

The darkness grew heavier, or perhaps it was just his eyelids. Sleep came without warning and almost against his will.

[cupoftaae]

Forever And A Day (KTH x READER) series ♡ sunrise in versailles (part 3) (chapter 15)

Summary: your lifelong friend is forced to face his true feelings for you once he breaks the number one rule of becoming friends with benefits: dont fall in love. He knows he loves you, but you on the other hand need more convincing of the most important thing: the right decision.

Genre: fwb. Roommates, friends to idiots to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, the whole 9 yards tbh.

Pairing: taehyung x female!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni!!!)

word count- 5k

warnings- swearing, fighting (waaa), emotional distress, mentions of miscarriage, lots of sad shit tbh. I think this is all? lmk.

a/n-Hi m'loves, I hope ur all doing well and having a good summer so far!! I will update the main masterlist asap so all of the chapters are easily accessible through pinned post on my page! -Nini

"so....he's saying that it just happened and there wasn't necessarily any reasoning behind it. Its normal....its not your fault." Taehyung whispered, translating the english speaking doctor's words into Korean as you remained seating in a hospital bed.

No reasoning? normal?

You would scoff if you had the energy.

Instead, you just blinked a few times in understanding, putting your head back and looking up at the obnoxiously bright lights in the room. Really- they werent comforting in the slightest.

The doctor kept speaking to Taehyung, who then would refer to you, "they are....gonna give you medicine to help pass any, um, tissue? left inside..." his voice was thick, slicked with grief as he tried to explain everything.

After they handed you a few papers and pamphlets, they passed a bottle of pain reliever and extra medication into your hands, then pushed you out of the clinic, as if nothing happened, or if anything changed.

The car ride back to the hotel was quiet, you refused to even hold Taehyungs hand, which, yeah...you felt bad for shutting him out, because you know he was hurting just as much as you were, however you wanted to just process it by yourself. It perhaps was selfish to do so, but you didnt want to talk about it.

even with him.

"maybe its a good idea to look into a flight back home...?" he whispered, hand on your lower back as you walk back into the room. You winced before crawling onto the bed, hugging a pillow.

"no....." you mumbled, closing your eyes. The thought of going on a 12 hour plane ride in this condition made you queasy. You just wanted to lay in bed for the next few days to recover.

He put the stuff down and stood in front of the bed, looking down at his feet as his mind rambled of ways to help. "are you hungry?"

You shook your head.

"thirsty? You should probably have some water......do you want me to run you a bath-?"

"taehyung!" you looked over at him, he was taken back for a moment upon hearing your voice, the loudest you've spoken since the miscarriage began. "I want to be left alone, I dont need anything"

He frowned, "but you-"

"but nothing" you sighed, resting your head back down. You swallowed any trace of sadness in your voice, any signal you were ready to break down. "I just....I want to sleep."

"okay" he nodded, upset at your dismissive behavior. All he wanted was to hold you in this moment, for you two to mourn together so you can heal, and you were practically pretending he didnt exist.

He grabbed his cellphone and calmly left the room, walking out to clear his head. The weather was now much sunnier, air was hot but nice. He wondered what adventure you both would be up to right now if this never happened.

Reluctantly, he began to ring up his mother to discuss whats going on, knowing that you will probably be mad for doing it without you, but he needed someone to talk to so desperately.

"mom...." he whispered when the ringing on the other line stopped, signaling someone picked up.

"Taehyung? whats wrong?" her voice was groggy, He suddenly remembered that it was really late over in Busan, and she was most likely asleep.

"im sorry for calling so late" he mumbled, "I just really need to talk to you"

"what is it?" her voice was more awake now, obvious curiosity and panic.

He sighed, taking a breath as he looked around at the people walking down the street. "Y/N....this morning, she had a miscarriage." he swallowed roughly, feeling the familiar lump in his throat. "we just got back to the room after going to the clinic, shes okay, but she wont talk to me...and I know this doesnt concern you in the slightest, you were upset to begin with, but....im hurting mom." his voice cracked at the last sentence, face hiding into his arm.

He heard a stilling of breath on the other line.

Taehyungs mother wasnt all too pleased to hear you both were expecting a child together, but she never wished for something like this to happen, it was heartbreaking.

"ah my son... im terribly sorry my dear." she exhaled, "its okay to cry, its okay to be upset, you know?"

He sniffed, wiping his eyes with the collar of his shirt, "yeah but, I just wanna be with her and shes getting mad at me"

"Its a difficult situation, She is hurting just like you maybe even more, and she needs space....she will come around okay? where is she? where are you? did they specify what caused it?"

"im outside of our hotel, sitting on a bench, she doesnt want me in the room....and shes okay, they gave her medicine and stuff but they said it was natural, like nothing inflicted it or caused it"

She nodded on the other line "okay...maybe you both should come home. I know you worked hard to be there right now but if shes sick you guys need to be close to us. I will make some meals and bring them over so she doesnt have to cook, or you can just stay with us, whatever you two decide."

He brushed his hair with his fingers, listening to his mothers soft soothing tone, one he wasn't particularly used to hearing too often. "I asked her if we should go back and she said no"

"she wants to stay in a foreign country during this? what if something else happens?"

"I dont think she wants to deal with the plane ride" he sighed

"thats understandable, but she can just sleep the entire time, then i'll order a cab to our house straight from the airport, how does that sound?"

"I'll try to talk to her again about it, I just want her to be okay"

"she will be okay, but these things take time. She may not act like she needs you there with her but she does, go back to the room okay?"

"okay....thank you, I'll text you after, love you..." he mumbled, grateful that for once, his mother was supportive in such a time of pain.

-

"you showered?" he asked, walking back into the room as he saw you on the floor, looking out the large window by the bed. Your long wet hair gently dripping to the carpet below you.

"mhm" your eyes stayed glued to the city, watching cars drive around as the sun began to say its goodbyes, setting beautifully and coating the sky with a purple and orange tint.

His eyes looked down to the pillow in your lap, you squeezed it tightly.

"how...uh, how are you feeling physically?"

"mm" you shrugged, finally turning back to look at him. You were pale, and you looked exhausted. The dark bags under your eyes didnt lie. "im managing"

"you dont have to manage alone" he whispered, sitting beside you.

"taehyung..."

"y/n"

You looked at him as he sat on the carpet next to you, your body tightening up once more.

"why wont you let me be here for you?" he whispered, eyes directly on yours as he tilted his head. Taehyung didnt want to come off as aggressive or forceful.

You shook your head, eyes darting out the window once more. "I dont wanna talk about it"

"why no-"

"because it fucking kills me!" you cried out, covering your face, "it hasnt even been a day, im processing it, it doesnt feel real and I just..."

He looked at you, his own expression softening as he felt his stomach churn.

"I just wish it never happened" you choke out in a faint whisper

"I know baby, I know...." he mumbled, slowly bringing his arm to yours, pulling you into his lap. "me too, this is awful, I know it is, and I know I will never understand how you feel....but im hurting too. lets process this together? please?" his fingers laced through your hair as you softly cried, you could feel the exhaustion and emotion seeping through every ounce of your body. "I think we should just go home..."

"but you worked so hard to be here....we arent going..."

Taehyung sighed, "its not important. I...I called my mom and explained the situation, shes offering us a room at the house, she will cook for us and everything, allow you time to heal, and-"

You stopped crying, climbing off his lap and looking at him as if he slapped you in the face. "you called your mom? why? what?"

"I know, im sorry, I shouldve asked you if it was okay-"

"yeah you should have" you wiped your nose and stood up, huffing and tossing the pillow back onto the bed. "thats so....you dont need to go telling everyone. Not to mention she gave me shit when she found out I was pregnant, and now she wants to be all supportive? bull fucking shit"

He was taken back at your sudden outburst, he rose to his feet and turned to you "baby, hey, I know my parents arent the best but they are offering support right now, put all the fighting aside, she knows your hurting and is just trying to be nice"

"I dont care, I refuse to let her do that, especially given the fucking comments she through at me" you ran your hands through your hair. "I mean, shit, taehyung, my own mom didnt know I was pregnant yet and now I have to tell her I already miscarried?" you sighed "this is a lot on me! this is a lot mentally, and you cant just go telling people, im embarrassed"

"you shouldnt be"

"I am, I dont really want to be coddled or get sympathy calls and texts from people, I just want to be alone, and to be honest, I am really fucking mad at you right now"

He raised his brow, he was upset at your behavior but tried to understand the situation from your point of view. "okay..." he exhaled, "I get it, I know, and im sorry"

You threw your phone across the room, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door.

Taehyung felt lost, his attempt of helping seemed to only make shit worse for the both of you. How was one person supposed to navigate or fix the said situation? you wanted help, but you refused it.

He didnt want to leave again, but he grabbed his coat and walked out once more, this time it was to sit on the fire escape stairs out near the balcony.

It felt like hours, he cried, watching cars drive around. It was selfish, but he wished he was one of those people.

he wished he was away, he wished you and him were doing what you had originally planned for the day instead of this.

His heart was in his throat as it suddenly hit him, the loss of the child he had learned to grow so fond of. Taehyung had not known them for very long, but oh, he fell in love at the first heartbeat, the first sonogram that still sat in his wallet at this very moment.

He was in love the moment he walked into his bedroom and saw it as a nursery for the first time, eager to push everything out just so he can decorate it 7 months early.

The moment he saw your bump beginning to form, snapping photos left and right. The moments of holding your hair back so you didnt get vomit in it during your morning sickness days. The moments of him talking to your stomach late at night when you pretended to be asleep and watch.

Taehyung would whisper his fears but righten them as promises of love and nothing less. the role of a father.

It seemed so scary at first, but as he settled into it, the idea became somewhat comforting, at least knowing he wasnt alone.

But now what?

Where do you even start to pick up the pieces of loss of a life you never even got to taste?

Everything that was finally looking up was ripped away in a matter of moments. He was angry at the world, angry at himself, angry at the innocent people walking around below...but he wasnt angry at you, no matter how much you deflect his compassion.

He tossed his cigarette and began to look up at the stars, trying to mentally keep track of the number of them. It was something to distract his brain, it was something to do other than feel pathetic.

The slider door to the balcony slowly opened, presenting you tightly wrapped in a robe as your hair was now thrown into a pony tail.

Taehyung waved his hand, too afraid to speak up.

"I just got off the phone"

He nodded, looking over.

"with my mom" you exhale

"oh?" Taehyung sat up quickly as you walked over, sitting beside him.

"yeah" you whisper, of course you had been crying, there was no way to hide it. "I told her everything, mine as well not wait"

He nodded, unsure of how to react

Its quite for a moment, the overwhelming tension between you both choking you as the night sky blanketed the city, the air thick with love and grief.

"are you okay?" he whispered

"yes...or, will be anyways" you sniff, taking a deep breath and allowing your lungs to receive a moment of calmness for the first time today. "are you?"

He shrugged, looking at you. "mad..." he murmured, watching his heel continue to dig into the cigar that was already on the ground.

"mad?" you whisper

"yeah, mad."

"why?"

"because..." it was his turn to cry, his fists bunching up his white shirt. "I left you, I fucking left you while it happened."

You frown, watching his eyes look anywhere but your own. "My love...whether you were in the room or not, it still wouldve happened"

"At least you wouldnt have been alone..." he choked, "I keep getting images of how scary it mustve been, and how you kept calling me and I was just...not there"

You wiped your eyes, scooting closer to him.

"so fucking dumb, im so stupid. I hate everyone and im mad. Im angry, its not fair" he mumbled

You were unsure of what to say to him, opting to pull him into your arms as you embraced eachother.

"where were you anyways...?"

He sniffed, whispering lowly "I went to get you flowers, and breakfast" his cheeks were slightly red. "just my luck, I do something nice and the world spits in my face"

You couldnt help the small smile that found its way onto your lips, "well thats very sweet...."

"doesnt matter. it was dumb and I shouldnt have left you"

"you cant blame yourself for this" you look at him, turning his head so he sees you. "we need to stop blaming ourselves. This is going to take a while to recover from, and we gotta realize that now more than ever." you whisper, pressing your forehead to his.

He nodded, lifting slightly to kiss you delicately.

Taehyung held both of your hands as he rested his head on your shoulder.

"Im going home"

He sniffed, "you are? I think thats good, we dont have to stay at my moms house, I understand how awkward that might be for you, and it was my wrong doing to just go and talk behind your back. We can just go back to the apartment okay?"

You shake your head slowly, "no, Tae, home...Gwangju." you spoke into his ear gently, your hand running circles on his back. "I need to see my mom, I need time to recover, and to be honest, I need to recover from a lot more than just this one thing...."

He sat away, looking at you. "Gwangju?"

"yeah. Ive been thinking about going back for a while, remember? my mom isnt getting any younger and she still has troubles with her back. She wasnt doing too well when we visited. I need to be with my mom to help her, and so she can help me with everything Ive been dealing with, which....is a lot." you exhale, trying to offer a small laugh to lighten the mood. "she misses me too, all the time"

His face was contorted, mind racing. "well...okay..." he nodded slowly, "thats fine...when do we leave?"

You bit your bottom lip and looked at him, "not we, just me tae..."

Taehyung frowned, "what do you mean? you....are leaving without me?" his voice was thick with emotion as the realness of the sudden situation sunk in.

"yeah...not for long, I promise, I just need time-"

"what are you talking about?" he chokes out, standing up and looking down at you. "I offered to take you back home so we can recover and rest, I offered you anything I could, and you refused, now suddenly you are hot and eager to hop on a plane to Gwangju to....get away from me?"

"its not like that"

"then please explain what it is like because it seems as if life isnt the problem, its me"

You roll your eyes slightly, "stop jumping to conclusions, you know first hand how bad the past months have been, between kaito, the pregnancy, school, work and the drama with you and I. I lost all my friends, I switched to online classes just for the situation, I have to manage everything, all of my shit including yours"

"What do you mean?"

"its just a lot, tae, I am only one person. I love you, I really do, and I wish you would calm down so I can explain."

He sits, face in his hands.

"Listen" you begin "everything is just a lot right now, this...loss..." you whisper "it was the sole decider for me to make the move to go back home for a while. I need to fix some shit, because im not the best person, and I need to be away from people"

"you sound so crazy"

You scoff, looking at him, "crazy?"

"yeah, crazy. so what? we break up? you know, couples dont just leave or abandon eachother when something bad happens, you turn to them when you need support, just as we done with everything else so far." he tries to plead with you, hands trembling a bit. "I know its a lot for you, I know your body is tired physically and mentally, and I can only imagine how the past 24 hours have been, but....you do realize that I am hurting as well? this doesnt just involve you, it was my baby too?"

You sink into your seat, sighing as you shake your head, "obviously I know that"

"then why are you acting like its only your problem?" he winced, "we....we are missing out on so many experiences. we will never get to hold or see that baby ever, you think that doesnt rip my fucking heart out y/n??" his voice wavered, now slightly louder as he tried to get you to see his side. "this is so selfish, you are being so selfish"

You felt tears seep into your eyes, quickly getting up so he doest see your reaction as you open the slider, feet guiding you back into the cold hotel room.

"yeah run away" he scoffs, tears streaming down his face as he attempts to follow you, tossing his jacket to the floor in rage.

"where will I be? where do I go?" he yelled, watching you silently search the closet as you rip clothes out, tossing them to the bed.

When you dont respond, he grows more upset and desperate. "so fuck me then? right? because my feelings on this dont matter?" he cried, standing at the door and watching you. "please tell me what ive done, what ive said, to make you feel like you cant talk or confide in me? why is there no comfort between us? what the fuck happened?"

Tears freely fell as you aggressively threw your suitcase together, you heard his words sink into your blood, your own emotions tugging at your heart as you tried to convince yourself you were capable of making your own choices. "its not a break up, its just some time away from everything, I will come back" you spoke, teeth gritted.

"you are being so selfish y/n" he shook his head in disbelief, "why am I not enough to help? why cant we both go to your moms?"

"because im tired!!" you yell, throwing the shoes in your hands.

He laughed, eyes scanning over you "you are tired? from what? ....oh I get it, me giving you every limb I have, spending my time and money on you must be so exhausting. Im just the fucking worst huh? Jesus, y/n, you are acting like I fucking punched you" he spit

You glared at him, pinching your thigh as he referred to Kaito "Im tired of drama following me everywhere I go. I never fucking asked you to give me anything, ever, at all." you whisper, eyes sinking into his. "How dare you say that to me....." you grew angry at your voice wavering "this was a mistake"

His eyes widened, "a mistake..?"

"yeah..." you scoff "a mistake, clearly the biggest one ive made" you were quick to wipe your eyes. "we should have stayed just friends, you feeling forced to provide and love me just because of the baby is pathetic. You dont have to worry about it anymore anyways, asshole" you spit, turning around.

He felt like he had gotten stabbed in the chest, his breath leaving his lungs as you sat there and accused him of not only not loving you, but the child. "y/n, you know nothing...you have no idea what you are saying"

"oh but I do"

"you are angry, and thats why you said that, I really hope thats the case...because what you just accused me of...." his voice was tight and shallow. "how can you say I only stayed because of the baby....who, by the way, I was willing to give up everything for"

"you felt compelled to, you dont have to lie anymore"

His tears continued to fall, he was shocked at your words. "y/n I love you and that baby more than anything....why are you saying this?"

He regretted yelling, and perhaps he said words that dug deeper than he meant them too, however what you threw back at him was worse than any conversation prior.

"Yeah well I dont even know if the baby was yours or Kaitos so It literally doesnt matter" you threw clothes into your bag "its gone anyways" you sobbed, "so just go on and do whatever the fuck you were doing before I pulled you down with me, okay?"

Taehyung gasped softly, eyes widening as he watched you.

You knew it was wrong, you regretted saying it as soon as it left your mouth, but you couldn't go back on it, not anymore.

"you....you dont?"

You didnt reply, instead, picking the pace up as you gathered your things.

"baby....baby talk to me this isnt funny anymore" he ran over to you, desperately seeking your attention. "look....i...I dont care if it was mine or not, I wouldnt have treated them any differently, baby please listen to me, its okay"

"taehyung I have to go" you whispered

"no..please my love, why are you....what did I do? im sorry...im sorry" he grasped your hand and fell onto his knee

"stop" you choked out, looking at him with tears in your eyes. "listen...Its not forever, just give me some space....please"

"why...this is so...." he whispered, crying as he looked up at you, "please think this through. let me come with you-"

"taehyung....look at me, Im not breaking up with you, I just need space, and if you wont let me do that..." you shrug, "then what are we doing here?"

He looks down at his hands

"thank you, okay? thank you for giving me all of this, and Im sorry it didnt work out, but we need to have time away so we can come back stronger, okay?" you choked out before going back to what you were doing.

Taehyung at some point in the conversation gave up at trying to convince you to stay, he realized his words were no longer effective, and you were gonna walk away from him no matter what he said.

He felt your grip loosen, specifically within the past few weeks. You were slowly slipping away and he knew it, but he didnt want to think it was anything you two couldnt fix, he needed you just as much as you needed him.

He knew he would wait, and if you left and needed space, then he would let you do so.

"fine..." he whispered, feeling one hundred percent defeated as his eyes watched you gather your things. "w-when....are you leaving?"

you sniffed, "tomorrow morning"

"i'll go with you to the airport" he said quickly, making your grasp on your bag tighten.

"okay" you mumbled.

Its not that you didnt love Kim Taehyung, its that you loved him too much to be wrapped in this drama with him all the time. Things will be well for a while then something happens, something always happens, and its not fair.

to either of you.

You regretted saying the baby thing the moment it came out of your mouth, but you were always bad at dealing with emotions. After some time alone with your mom you would need to do some major damage control.

You only wanted 2 weeks alone, its not like you were leaving for 2 years, why was he being so stubborn about this?

It was a fairly quite car trip at 6am the next morning to the airport.

The grey clouds that toppled over you set the tone of the day for taehyung as he parked among the cars in the lot. The last time you two were at this airport was when you arrived here, hopes high for not only the trip, but a positive change in eachothers future.

one that never came.

he walked you inside all the way to your gate, watching as crowds of people gathered nearby.

"well...." he whispered, watching the way his feet scuffed the floor beneath him.

"well..." you repeated, turning to look at him. "its only a few weeks"

Taehyung nodded, repeating the extent in his brain like it would reassure him.

"we will come out of this as better people" you mumbled, reaching up to hug his tightly, hands finding the familiar pattern of running down his back, squeezing him.

"I hope" he exhaled, hugging you just as tight.

Once you pulled away, your faces close together, you looked into his eyes and took every ounce within you to avoid tearing up. Before bed last night, you both discussed the properties of this situation, and what exactly it would entail. You apologized for your words, as did he, and now here you both were at the end of the terminal waiting for your plane to be called so you can head back to korea without him.

"about the baby...." you whispered, looking at him

"I know...you dont have to apologize again. y/n, I dont care who's it was, I honestly dont. nothing would have led me away from you" he reassured, "I just want to make sure you will be okay on the flight"

You nod slowly, "i will be fine, moms picking me up when I land so..."

"good, thats good"

"yup, and i'll text you when im at home okay?" you spoke

"got it"

"you'll wait for me?"

"i'll wait for you" he whispered, kissing your forehead.

"even if im the most awful person?"

Tae laughed softly "you arent, but even if you were, yes"

You nod sadly, finally allowing the tears to spill as he immediately hugged you close to his chest again. its not a goodbye, its a "see you later", right?

"dont cry...this is what you wanted"

You pull back, wiping your eyes "yeah...yeah"

The speaker above your heads announced boarding for your plane. Grabbing the tickets from your bag, you looked at taehyung once more and smiled weakly, "i'll see you, okay?"

He smiled, nodding "i'll be there when you need me" please need me

You waved, quickly turning so he wouldn't see you crying again as you made your way down the tunnel, your body now hidden behind the herd of other passengers.

"love you" he whispered to himself, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he realized his current state, alone.

He hasnt been alone in months, and it provided a certain uncomfy feeling that ran through his body, almost disturbing. He knew he would be returning to the hotel and packing so he could visit his own mother and father back in Busan. Explaining that situation to them will be its own event.

How could something so sweet and beautiful always find its way to trash? to devastation? it was what you two thrived on, and perhaps time apart was needed after all.

He would wait for you

He would wait for your laugh, your eyes, the way you whispered, the way you nagged him over being messy, or how you fussed when he forgot to eat again.

But....how long exactly would he do so?

taglist-

@turnthepageandbeburnt @taebangtanbabe @borahaexoxo @lelefoodlover @tan-veee

[randomnameless]

about your rivough post... its possible that the rivough chief had beef with granbell and not darna itself. if we take the narrator's bias towards granbell/agustria/lenster as them being from one of those nations (i subscribe to the theory that the narrator is finn, because i find it thematically appropriate, even if there is no evidence), those three nations seem to have kind of monopolized the crusader's cult (cont)

(notice how they all talk big about their crusader lineage making all their actions justified, but places like thracia and isaach are considered barbaric despite being founded by crusaders too). for rivough to attack darna could be seen as attacking a symbol of that view (kinda like a terrorist attack?). of course that doesnt make the action any better             

i was going to answer this weekend but i had to go to Versailles and fuck this city so i need some rivough thoughts to function again

The narrator being pretty “Leonster and pals” oriented either means that Finn wrote it, or Dorias’ ghost did it.

More seriously, I think Silesse is mentionned by the narrator as the land of crusader Sety (iirc?) and Silesse isn’t painted as a savage land ruled by barbarians. OTOH, Miletos had no crusaders but they’re eons away from Verdane.

We don’t see a lot of Isaachians talking about Odo (Saint Odo?) but again, we don’t meet a lot of Isaachians bar the “i’m so glad you saved us thks!”. Maybe Galzus’ dad was more pissed then Mananan at the second rate treatment the descendants of Crusader Odo had from the various “civilised” persons, but why would Mananan destroy Rivough then? Because they started a “war” that, even if they agreed with it, couldn’t afford? As in “we’re pissed to be called savages we had a crusader for naga’s sake” but Mananan knew that if he were to fight against Granvalle he’d lose no matter what, so he accepted to be called a barbarian to prevent a war?

(that thinking wouldn’t have saved them, the civilised nations showed that they couldn’t give a fig about barbarians, so if you accept to be called a barbarian you are going to be “civilised” by conquest sooner or later)

We don’t have a clue, and, most likely won’t in any upcoming remake :’(

Still, the fact that the Rivough royals are also major odos, unlike Holyn, made me see this in another light - maybe Rivough chief went to Darna to have some sort of authority to face Mananan and say that his clan/son should be the next King of Isaach because he has the brand in some “i’m holier than you” bullshit, but the head priest of Darna (who’s actually from Velthomer so totally biased against savages) told Rivough Chief that no, since his son’s brand came from a woman he was never going to inherit Isaach’s throne (and it’s totally different in Velthomer’s case because Vala might have been a woman, the gods made it sure that her heirs who had the brand were men like Viccy and Arvis), or he was no crusader to begin with, or worse, that his brand and Ayra’s sister’s brand were fake/unnatural or something like that.

Pissed, he attacked them, and the rest is history.

I’m sure there must be a link between the attack on Darna and the fact that Rivough managed to secure a major blooded carrier from Mananan’s eldest child.

Maybe Rivough’s Chief wanted to sit on Mananan’s throne, or to secure the Balmung for his clan, or, idk, make his own independant country (maybe Rivough was the Alster of Isaach ?) but the oracles of Darna told him to fig off so he went bananas.

Or maybe Rivough Chief wanted to attack Granvalle after, maybe, Reptor’s comments on savages and decided to start with Darna ; Mananan couldn’t tell him to stop the Balmung did it (and Mananan killed his daughter or, as evey mother does, she died in childbirth).

I’d like to see Ayra talk about this (her sister) in some remake, or some kind of other material - since it’s pretty sure now that Galzus will never talk about his family.

or better, a comment between Reptor and Ayra during a potential battle convo where he calls her and her dad fools who fell for his trap - he insulted the rivoughs on purpose knowing they were going to degenerate and Mananan would have to get rid of one of his own Balmung candidates

kill that, maybe a Veld like, but not Reptor.

[passionfruitbowls]

in the end, it’s always you - ch. 3

Rated: T Word count: 1k

written for @adrinetteapril day 3 - Yes

Read on AO3 

—————

It didn’t take long for Marinette and Adrien to arrive at their destination - the roads were less busy, since it was coming up for 5pm and any families with small children had gone home for the evening.

Adrien sighed quietly as they went along, gazing at all the surrounding buildings to pass the time. In the window of one apartment complex, he saw what looked like a couple embracing each other, and smiled. Over the past few years, Adrien had come to appreciate the little acts of love and care he saw all around him; it was so unlike the cold and empty house in which he’d been raised, where even the smallest bit of affection from his father was a blessing in his eyes.

Adrien winced; he didn’t like to dwell on his father, not after the seemingly endless hell he’d put him through. He could still remember it all so vividly, that day when the man known as Hawkmoth was locked behind bars for good. The mad glint in Gabriel’s eye when Adrien ripped the brooch off him, his angry cries for help as he was shoved into the back of a large black van, which fell on deaf ears. Every now and then, when Adrien closed his eyes, he could still picture the glares Gabriel had shot in his direction from across a cold and quiet courtroom.

He tightened his grip on Marinette’s waist, hoping that it wouldn’t hurt her.

The weeks that followed the trial were all a bit of a blur to Adrien; his clearest memories were the Super Penguino contest he and his friends had held at Alya’s house, that one time he fell asleep next to Marinette in the back of her parents’ car, and the warm breakfasts her maman had made him every morning.

It was moments like those that had inspired Adrien to keep going, in spite of how bleak everything seemed. At a time when he felt undeserving of compassion and love, that was exactly what he had gotten; it was like an all-encompassing warmth which told him what he needed to hear. It wasn’t your fault, there’s no way you could’ve known, you’re alright now.

————

“We’re here.” He heard Marinette say as the motorcycle came to a stop, bringing him back to the present moment. They both climbed off and removed their helmets, and before Adrien could do anything else he found himself being pulled into a tight embrace.

“I missed you so much, dude.” Nino said tearfully as he clung to Adrien for dear life. Adrien smiled and reciprocated the hug.

“I missed you too.”

Once the four of them had all exchanged welcome hugs, they went into the house’s hallway where Marinette and Adrien took off their jackets.

“I’ll go and make some drinks for you both!” Alya exclaimed before dashing out to the kitchen. Marinette blushed and raised her hands.

“Oh, Alya, you really don’t have to-”

“Nonsense! We haven’t seen either of you in, what, weeks? It’s only fair that we treat you with hospitality!”

Before any of them could say more she had pulled out four glasses, and began searching the cabinets for an appropriate drink. When Marinette and Adrien gave him confused looks, Nino just shrugged.

————

“Oh my God, I completely forgot to tell you guys the news!” Alya said after about half an hour of them exchanging funny stories from the past month. Adrien shuffled forwards to the edge of the sofa, listening eagerly.

“What news?”

“I’ve been invited to attend the Versailles Masquerade Ball in June!”

Marinette’s jaw dropped, as did Adrien’s.

“You’re joking!”

“I most certainly am not.” Alya said with a grin.

“Wha- how?” Adrien asked. “Aren’t the tickets really expensive?”

“Oh, they definitely are, but being considered a rising star in the world of journalism can have its benefits, if you know what I’m saying.” She winked.

“Alya, did you…receive VIP access?” Marinette gasped.

“Yes! And not only that, but they said I could take up to three other people with me! Imagine, the four of us going to Versailles together, wouldn’t it be awesome?”

Marinette and Alya both jumped to their feet, squealing and flapping their hands with excitement.

“Oh gosh, I-I’ll have to make clothes for us, we’re gonna have to look as presentable as possible! What type of fabric should I use, cotton, chiffon? Wait, no, it’s meant to be Baroque clothing, isn’t it? I guess it would have to be silk-”

As Marinette began considering outfit ideas, Adrien lay back on the sofa and remained silent.

Despite having never gone to Versailles himself, Adrien’s mother had told him stories about the time she went there when he was small. Even looking back on it now, it sounded just like every other social gathering he’d attended throughout his childhood: overly decorated, and filled with conceited people whose idea of a casual conversation was as dull as could be. Not to mention, how would those people react to seeing him, the child of someone who was essentially a domestic terrorist, there?

Adrien’s scepticism towards the whole thing must have been obvious, because suddenly Marinette paused and sat down next to him, resting a hand on his arm like she always did when he was feeling glum. She looked at him with obvious concern, and Adrien realised that she was silently asking him if he was okay. He gave a small shrug.

“Alya-” Marinette began, “maybe it would be better if just you, me and Nino went.”

Alya and Nino exchanged looks, understanding what Marinette was trying to tell them. For a few moments they were all silent, until Nino asked, “Adrien, do you want to go?”

Adrien opened his mouth to say “No”, but suddenly he was hit with a realisation, the realisation that a night at Versailles would mean a night of being with Marinette, laughing and bantering like they always did but with a lot more opportunities to get closer, not to mention all of the dancing (oh God, the dancing!). It was everything he could possibly ask for and more.

“Yes.” He said as a smile crept across his face. “Yes, of course I’ll go with you guys! I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Nino and Alya cheered, while Marinette looked fondly at Adrien and gave his hand a squeeze. His heart skipped a beat, and he squeezed back.

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian - “Always and Forever”

Summary: After the death of their daughter Grace, Kurt and Sebastian drift apart. Kurt wraps himself up in his grief so tightly he starts to push Sebastian away, and Sebastian, feeling himself shoved aside when he needs Kurt most, cheats. They make the decision to start over, to leave New York City and their pain behind, and start over again in a house Upstate. Sebastian buys Kurt a "fixer upper" and gives him free reign. While redecorating the room that will be his studio, Kurt comes across something interesting underneath the wallpaper. It starts to become an obsession for Kurt - an obsession that begins to replace Kurt's love for his husband, which Sebastian is holding on to by a thread. Can Kurt and Sebastian break through the pain and the hurt and find a way to fall in love again?

Notes: Inspired by the Klaine advent drabble prompt "ache". So this is a story I started a while ago, but stopped after chapter 4 because it started to get a little too real. But I’ve started revising, and now I’m ready to finish it.

Chapter 1 (3197 words)

“God! That traffic was insane, wasn’t it?” Sebastian complains, pulling off the highway and onto the less congested road that leads to the heart of Manhasset.

Kurt mutters in agreement, but he barely noticed. His right temple has been glued to the passenger side window the entire trip. Eyes pointed skyward, he watched the clouds pass by as they drove, counted the trees, followed a flock of birds as they flew off to warmer climes far, far away.

Away from here, the way Kurt wishes he could.

“I called ahead to turn the gas on. And the electricity... ” Sebastian has been rambling about nothing for the whole hour and forty-five-minute drive, filling the tense air of the Navigator with verbal static. “We’re gonna want to air the place out for a few hours. The realtor told me it stinks like mold but that there isn’t any actual mold in the house. I hired two separate contractors to go through the place anyway and make sure. I wasn't going to take the guy's word for it. He struck me as a sandwich short of a picnic. I mean, you should have seen him, Kurt! He was wearing a purple paisley tie and brown loafers with a grey suit. And not like royal purple. That would have worked. But puce! Jesus Christ!” He chuckles. It bleeds into a nervous cough. “I didn’t say anything, but it would have been nice if you were there to give him some subtle pointers. Or not so subtle. You know how much I love seeing you in action. Oh, and we'll have to go over our insurance policy. I’m having a second independent appraiser… ”

“Are we there yet?” Kurt interrupts, preferring to focus on how the changing leaves mute the skyline than on a single word coming out of his husband’s mouth. Not that he could catch a one the way they’re sprinting off his tongue like lemmings off a cliff.

The trees soothe Kurt, smooth the rough edges of this bumpy ride. They grow differently out here than in the city: springing up in rows, displaying their fall colors, blending one into the other like an ever-changing river - red tree, yellow tree, brown tree, gold tree… 

Their daughter Grace would call out the colors on their long car rides Upstate, conjuring rhymes where there were none. They roll through his memory in her singsong voice.

Green tree… uh... lean tree!

Kurt smiles, clutching on to the sound of her voice.

He's terrified of the day he'll forget what her voice sounds like.

“Just… uh… just a few more blocks,” Sebastian replies, his attempt at chitchat cut short by his husband’s impatient tone. Despite his infinitely expressive voice, Kurt only uses three tones nowadays - angry, impatient, and indifferent. Sebastian hasn’t learned how to avoid any of them, but he hates Kurt’s indifferent tone the most. “Not too far.”

“Good. Because I’m tired of sitting in this stupid seat.” Kurt switches positions, massaging his hip for emphasis. 'Tired of sitting in this stupid seat.' That's what he said. But he meant, 'tired of being stuck in here with you.' 

And Sebastian knows it.

Sebastian turns down two streets that spiral together tighter and tighter until he and Kurt are locked in to their new neighborhood.

Locked in to their decision to move here.

“Here it is.” Sebastian pulls up to the curb at the point before the street turns into a cul-de-sac.

Kurt sits up slowly to accommodate his stiff spine and numb ass. Looking around, he sighs in frustration. “Here what is? There are five houses on this block. Which one is it?”

“Guess.” When Kurt sighs again, Sebastian says, “I’ll give you a hint – it’s one of these three,” and motions to the houses on Kurt’s right. Kurt rolls his eyes but turns to the houses closest. They all appear relatively identical – three floors with a pointed roof and a square porch, reminiscent of a gingerbread house. They probably have basements – a huge selling point in this vicinity. But they don’t call them basements Upstate. They call them cellars. Somehow, the word cellar is more refined, and therefore more acceptable than having a dull, run-of-the-mill, drafty basement.

Need that cellar so you can have the most expensive cabernet on the market on hand in case we need to drunkenly judge Sally Jones’s latest highlight fiasco.

“She should have gone with lowlights, Sharon. (sip) Haven’t I been saying that, Kayla? (sip) Haven’t I been saying that she should have stuck with lowlights? But only around her face. (sip) Ha-ha-ha-ha! Please, pass the brie.”

Kurt spent a good portion of his life living in a basement bedroom, so he’s not above the word. But he remembers a time back in high school when he thought that was the person he would grow up to be. He’d start out as one of the New York elite, then become an Upstate snob. When his kids (two of them – a boy and a girl) were grown and gone, he’d start an artists’ colony. He'd retire to a lighthouse, isolate himself in obscurity while being ironically jaded at the world.

Well, he's nearing forty, and he is jaded, but for entirely different reasons.

The house at the curve in the cul-de-sac is painted a sea green Kurt isn’t thrilled with. But that can be remedied with a bucket of paint and some elbow grease. From its position, it probably gets the bulk of the noon sun. 

There goes their electric bill. 

Kurt knows Sebastian doesn’t care about trivial things like finances, but just because they have the money to spend doesn’t mean they should shovel it out the window. Plus, there's their carbon footprint to think about. But more importantly, there goes his fair skin, which will freckle at every meal while he does nothing other than sit at the kitchen table.

No, thank you.

The house beside it is in a better position, slanted away from direct sunlight. But it’s painted a slate blue that comes across as too harsh considering the neighborhood’s neutral color scheme. Sebastian should know better than to see that house and say, “Yes. That’s it. That’s the one,” unless the inside looks like the Palace of Versailles.

The last house is also blue, but this blue borders on pale grey, a similar shade to his father’s house in Lima. A maple tree has grown through the pavement in front, shading the house and shedding its red-gold leaves all over the front yard. 

And this house has a porch swing. 

He and Sebastian used to talk about owning a home with a porch swing. It became a prerequisite for the home they wanted to retire in. Kurt pictured sitting on their swing side by side in the early mornings, sipping coffee and watching the sunrise.

Sebastian, on the other hand, talked about having sex on the thing and scaring the neighbors.

Same planet, different worlds.

“It’s this one,” Kurt guesses, gesturing to the blue-grey house. “The one with the swing. Isn’t it?”

“Don’t sound too excited,” Sebastian jokes but warily, afraid of what the fallout might be if Kurt doesn’t like it. Sebastian has been climbing a tenuous ladder to make his husband happy. One misstep and he'll plummet back to the bottom, with no certainty that Kurt will let him try to climb up again. It’s his own damn fault, Sebastian reminds himself as they get out of the vehicle. He did this to them, so he’ll let Kurt lash out, let him bare his teeth and his claws, let him dig in with both hands and rip.

Sebastian deserves it.

He leads Kurt up the walkway in silence, past the tree and the swing. He unlocks the front door and pushes it open, standing back so Kurt can be the first one over the threshold. Kurt takes his time, poking his head in first, then taking a hesitant step. This is an all-or-nothing moment for him. In his heart, once he walks inside, there's no turning back.

He sets his foot down, rests his weight on it, and a dozen memories come flooding back: the house he lived in with his mom and dad, the house he and his dad moved into when his dad remarried, the dorm rooms he suffered from high school to college.

The first night he spent in Sebastian's penthouse, the excitement of feeling like he'd found his true home.

The house he dreamed of raising Grace in. 

In the end, they stayed in the penthouse for convenience. He regrets not getting her an actual house with a yard and a swing.

Like this one.

The irony.

The room lists, Kurt's head swims, but he wraps his arms around himself and doesn't let it show. He focuses on the here and now. He's taken a step. He just needs to take another. And another. Keep going. Keep moving forward, or else he'll crumple to the ground.

And Sebastian will rush to catch him.

Kurt would rather bury himself under the porch.

Kurt breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, relies on a cold and detached demeanor to help him instead of the strong arms of his husband.

This house has a different feel from the open floor plan of the penthouse they've been living in since college. It's cramped around the corners, with a lot more shadows and a lot less noise. Sebastian likes that better. He’s an Ohio native, same as Kurt. But unlike Kurt, he considers himself a country boy. Even though Sebastian built his identity around becoming a state's attorney like his father, he loved the quiet life: wide-open spaces, blue skies, unhurried, and just plain normal. 

Kurt saw Ohio as a cage he couldn't wait to break free from.

Sebastian could have bought Kurt any house he wanted. In that vein, Sebastian feels like a heel for jumping on this one without consulting Kurt first. He reasoned that he'd been the one house hunting, not Kurt. So when a contact told him that the owner of this house, a house Sebastian had had his eye on for a while, was finally selling, it seemed too perfect, especially considering the timing.

Sebastian bent over backward to rescue it from escrow.

Kurt didn't want to leave the city, but it was full of too much pain for him to handle, too many memories, friends and acquaintances who had yet to hear the news, and those who constantly offered their condolences. Few people greeted him anymore without their smiles dropping and the words, “I’m so sorry,” coming out of their mouths, as if joy shouldn't exist around him anymore. 

It made his head, his heart, and his soul ache.

Kurt loved New York City, but there was nothing left for him there but the constant hollow thud he felt whenever he saw something that reminded him of their angel Grace. School would be starting soon. All of her friends will be moving on to the fifth grade. But his daughter...

Life ended for her too soon.

“Here.” Sebastian reaches for Kurt’s hand, but Kurt reflexively pulls it away, slipping his hands into his pockets to cover for his flinching from Sebastian’s touch. Sebastian should be used to it by now, but he isn’t. “Let me show you why I think you’re going to love this house.”

Sebastian jogs up the stairs to the next level. Kurt follows a few steps behind. When he reaches the top, he sees three doors. They pass the first two without mention. Sebastian opens the last.

“Here.” Sebastian crosses to the opposite side and throws open one of two windows, filling the musty space with the crisp bite of autumn. “I thought this room could be your new studio.”

Sebastian knows him too well. The room is perfect. Even at dusk, it’s flooded with natural light. It looks out over the rooftops of the other houses, giving him a view of the surrounding forests and orchards stretching way past the highway. With a little TLC, it could look just like his studio in their penthouse.

Or he can turn it into something new.

Start with a clean slate.

“What are the other two rooms?” Kurt asks offhandedly. He doesn't need to. 

He knows what the other rooms are. 

There are only two rooms they can be.

“A bathroom and the master bedroom,” Sebastian answers, watching his husband stroll across the floor.

“So this would have been… ?”

“A spare? A guest room?” Sebastian shifts his weight from foot to foot, unable to find an easy groove to stand in.

Kurt frowns. No. It would have been Grace’s bedroom if she were still with them. Kurt was trying to get his husband to acknowledge that. Cruelly. But if she were with them, Sebastian wouldn’t have cheated, their marriage wouldn’t be falling apart, and they wouldn’t be running away from their problems.

“I guess I could put a foldout bed in here,” Kurt throws out as he estimates the space.

“You can if that’s what you want,” Sebastian agrees. “Or you’re just saying that to hurt me, which, if you are, you’ll be happy to know, it’s working.”

“I’m not saying that to hurt you,” Kurt eloquently lies. “I’m being practical. I’m not going to have easy access to the Vogue workshop if I live two hours away. If I expect to get a new line started, I’m going to have to pull long hours.”

Sebastian scrutinizes his husband, who’s doing his best to avoid looking at him. “You’re… thinking of starting a new line? You didn’t mention that.”

Kurt shrugs. “Did I have to?”

“No. I mean, I wasn’t sure that you would go back to designing so soon after.” 

"After?" Kurt tilts his head inquisitively but still makes no eye contact.

"After... moving. There's going to be a lot to do here. I thought you'd give yourself a year. Maybe more." Sebastian answers so quickly, Kurt wonders if he'd practiced. They talk in code, this whole conversation a carefully choreographed tango through a labyrinth of knives.

Sebastian didn't mean after moving. He meant after the death of their daughter. Kurt practically spent every spare second he wasn’t designing for work designing with her. Kurt has been a designer since high school. Aside from music, it's his passion.

Sebastian feared Grace's death might sever those harp strings.

"I think you underestimate me. Besides, you’re considering going back to working in the city after… ” 

Pivot, walk walk, close.

The dance changes. They switch places, and Kurt leads.

Kurt isn't talking about them moving or Grace.

Kurt means after Sebastian cheated. 

Kurt only agreed to move out of the city and live in a house he's never seen to keep Sebastian away from the man he's convinced will become too big a temptation to resist the next time they get into any kind of argument. Granted, it took their daughter dying for Sebastian to cheat, but Kurt figures it’ll keep getting easier from now on to come up with an excuse. 

Can't agree on where to go for dinner? Have a huge blowout over which cards to send out for Christmas? That's it! I'm sticking my dick in someone else!

“Anyway, I wouldn’t want to wake you by crawling into bed at four in the morning, not when you have to be at work at six,” Kurt finishes when he’s let that dig soak in long enough.

“I’m not going back to work for a while, remember? That’s what a leave of absence is. And even if I was, why would I mind you waking me?” Sebastian risks a grin. “In fact, I was thinking that it might be nice to get back to what we used to do in the mornings before work. I miss that.”

Sebastian holds his breath while he sees how that remark lands. He waits for Kurt to look at him. Kurt hasn’t been able to look at him, really look at him, since hungover Sebastian came home in a taxi the morning after, clothes ruined, their marriage officially in the gutter. Grace passed away six months ago, which means he’s been waiting for a while. 

He’s still waiting. 

“This isn’t all about you,” Kurt reminds him, raising his eyes to the ceiling.

Kurt didn't yell. But that doesn't mean he's not furious.

“I know,” Sebastian says softly. He rubs his cold hands together, wishing he could stick them underneath his husband’s thick, button-down sweater, and press his palms against Kurt’s skin. A year ago, Kurt would have squealed, “Bas! Your hands are freezing!” But he would have wrapped his arms around himself and held on, would have let Sebastian lean in for a kiss, would have fallen for the line, “Now that my hands are warm, maybe you can help me warm up a few other things.”

Then they would have made love on the wood floor with the door open.

If only he could make Kurt laugh the way he used to.

Then maybe Kurt would love him again.

But going by his husband’s expression, dreary as the olive sweater he holds closed with one hand at the neck, Sebastian knows that now is not the time.

“Is this what you need to make you happy?” he asks. If only it were that simple. If only a house, or a car, or a vacation could turn back the clock and erase everything that happened.

Erase everything Sebastian did, and bring their daughter back.

Kurt doesn't answer right away. He's not purposefully keeping Sebastian in suspense. He couldn't care less what's going on in Sebastian's head. This is his future he's considering. 

He's going to take his time.

He circles the room, contemplating the echo of his footsteps on the roughly finished wood, debating whether or not it's a sound he wants to hear for the rest of his life. If not, is it worth putting in the time to fix it? 

He traces the path of sunlight as it travels across the wall. That brings a new detail to his eye - a torn corner of wallpaper above the open window revealing a word underneath.

Darling.

Kurt eyes it from a distance, tries not to pay too much attention to it in case Sebastian is behind it. It doesn’t look like it was written recently. It's more than likely part of the pattern underneath. But leave it to Sebastian to try to woo his husband back with something syrupy like that. 

Something hopelessly romantic.

Something he thinks Kurt will fall for.

“No,” Kurt answers honestly, re-examining the fading wallpaper, the scuffed floors, the peeling ceiling. His gaze glances his husband’s face and settles on the dust-streaked window. He stares out at the sky, the clouds, the trees, the birds flying wild and free. He’s never going to be able to fly away like that, so he might as well accept this cage he's been given. It's what he's supposed to do, after all. “But it’s worth a try.”

He has little else left to lose.

[strangeinternetwasteland]

Lovelorn- Bakugo x Fem Reader

This is my second submission for day 4 of @konoblog-simps server collab!

WC: 1.5K

A/N: Song Lyrics are italicized, Everyone is of drinking age and/or aged up

Song: Fourth of July by Fall Out Boy

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, swearing,

In the darkened bar and a few drinks in the chaos of the bar all sounded the same. Every song had the same three chords being strung or the lyrics all sounded similar. One song after another about finding or losing love. He didn’t want to be here, the only thing he knew is that alcohol made it all go away. All the feelings and thoughts involving you. The two of you had met at a party Mina was throwing for no reason other than for fun. The moment you smiled, he fell hard.

It was the Fourth of July/ You and I were fire, fire fireworks/That went off too soon/ And I miss you in the June gloom, too

Thinking about the start of everything, it was a quick and fast relationship. From the moment the two of you saw each other, it felt as if nothing else could be better.

It was the Fourth of July/ You and I were fire, fire, fireworks/ I said I’d never miss you/ but I guess you never know/ May the bridges I have burned light my way back home on the Fourth of July

He missed you, even if he didn’t want to admit it. The summer romance that you two had shared as fleeting as it was, made him believe that maybe he wasn’t that hard to love.

I’ll be as honest as you let me/ I miss your early morning company/ If you get me/ You are my favorite “what if”/ You are my best “I’ll never know”

The night and morning after your third date with him was unexpected. You hadn’t thought about ever just giving someone yourself so wholly. He sighed remembering the sound of your laughter and felt his heart breaking into a million pieces. He waved the bartender down for another drink to drown his sorrows in. ‘I never will know how it would’ve ended anyway’ he thought to himself. The moment the facade fell the two of you were at each other’s throat.

And I am starting to forget/ Just what summer ever meant to you/ What did it ever mean to you?

What exactly had that summer fling ever meant to you? As much as Bakugo didn’t want to admit it, you were all he could ever think about.

Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any of it/ I just got too lonely, lonely, whoa/ In between being young and being right/ You were my Versailles at night.

He could’ve chalked up all of his anger, and feelings during the fights to being lonely. It was a pathetic excuse. Whenever the two of you did fight, it didn’t matter what was said, she always looked beautiful. He remembered you telling him a story of when you were started traveling and wanted to visit Versailles. You had explained how beautiful it was especially at night with the fireworks. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes he’d never admit how much it actually hurt him.

My 9 to 5 is cutting open old scars/ Again and again ‘til I’m stuck in your head/ Had my doubts, but I let them out/ You are the drought/ And I’m the holy water you have been without

The times you didn’t spend together all he ever thought about was the next time you’d be together. Even after the fighting started, he didn’t want to be without you. You were the breath in his lungs.

And all my thoughts of you/ The could heat or cool the room/ And no, don’t tell you cried/ Oh honey you don’t have to lie

After all the verbal arguments and how explosive they had gotten between the two of you, Bakugo didn’t want to believe in the truth he eventually came to. That is in a few short weeks he had fallen unabashedly in love with you. He was the one that was left hurt and broken while you never showed any remorse.

I wish I’d known how much you loved me/ I wish I cared enough to know/ I’m sorry every song’s about you/ The torture of small talk with some you used to love

When he thought about it all. Of course, you never really loved him at all. That was the only explanation he could come up with. The decision to text you was on impulse and he wanted closure. Bakugo decided that no matter what you had to say that he would accept your decision. When you walked into the bar, your eyes quickly found his form slumped over the bar. Obviously, he was inebriated. He perked his head up and saw you walking over to him. He grew nervous and fought every urge to run.

“Hello, Katsuki.” You greeted him and sat next to him. The bartender took your order and left the two of you alone.

“Hey, Y/N.” Bakugo greeted you with apathy. He felt colder than normal, despite you knowing that he was literally otherwise.

“How have you been?” You asked him with interest.

“Does it matter?” He responded quickly.

“Of course.” You replied with uncertainty, knowing how volatile Bakugo’s moods truly are.

“I need to know why you ended it.” He quickly asked. His fuse was short and with the addition of alcohol, it grew shorter.

“Right to it, huh?” You softly giggled at his demeanor.  He was always so serious.

“You never did give me a good reason.” His anger was apparent on his face. You shook your head. The bartender handed you your drink and gave you a look as he walked away.

“I actually loved you.” He said so quietly, you almost didn’t hear him above the music. He sighed again. “Just tell me why, and I can move on.” He looked directly at you. You saw the tears that formed in the corners of his eyes. You had always had a level-headed approach to everything.

“I know, Bakugo. When you text me wanting to talk, I was actually really happy.” You told him taking his hand in yours. “If I am being completely honest, I think we fizzled out before we began. You and I had tried to put everything we had into a few weeks. You can’t truly know a person after that short of a period. You confessing you loved me, that scared me, more than anything.”

Bakugo took his hand out of yours and placed it in his lap. He pressed his lips together and looked at the bar top. After a moment, he reached for his wallet and placed enough cash for all of his drinks and yours for the bartender.

“Thanks for the talk, Y/N.” He said while walking away from you. You hopped off the seat and ran after him.

“Where are you going? You’re in no state to drive home.” You scolded him. He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“Where can I go when I want you around but I can’t stand to be around you?” He asked with a hint of venom in his voice. He was losing his cool quickly.

“I am sorry, Bakugo. I am not sure what I was expecting when I came here to talk, but I can see that my presence isn’t wanted.” You told him as the two of you walked outside the bar.

“You’re all I ever think about. The first thing when I wake up, and the last thing on my mind. I wonder if you’re living the life you wanted. Why are you still here anyway? I thought your dream was to travel the world. See all the sights, try various foods of the world.” He snapped back at you, his voice gradually getting louder.

“I am sorry I am not off traveling the world like you think I should be! Somehow when I tried to leave I couldn’t!” You shouted at him.

“Why not? ‘There’s nothing here for you anyway’ remember? That’s what you told me in the note you left.” Bakugo’s voice cracked, no longer hiding any of the pain he was feeling.

“Why not? I’LL TELL YOU WHY NOT! IT’S BECAUSE I FELL IN LOVE WITH YOU TOO! I KNOW IT’S NOT LOGICAL, BUT LEAVING YOU IS NOT SOMETHING I WANT TO DO. I CAME HERE TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT ACTUALLY TRYING AGAIN! I CAN’T BELIEVE I THOUGHT-”  You were interrupted by the familiar feeling of Bakugo’s lips against your own. You flung your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. After a few moments, you broke the kiss to come up for air.

“Bakugo, I should take you home.” You told him not really wanting the night to end, but knowing he wasn’t in the right frame of mind after all the alcohol he had consumed.

“You can take me home, but you’re not leaving my place tonight.” He said as he pressed a kiss into your temple. “I don’t want anything more than just to wake up to you.” You smiled at him as you linked your arm with his. You walked toward your car with every step you took. You couldn’t help but feel hopeful for your future

[honestlyfrance]

The Missing Letters Between Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes and Detective Samuel Wilson

square filled: Detectives AU

warning: innuendo; swearing; the usual gay debunking from historians (subtle); murder cases; car accident

summary:

In the late ending 19th century, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes resigned from his duties as a military officer to follow Detective Samuel Wilson to the ends of the world, even going as far as accompanying the strange and wistful man in his cases. The letters collected by many biographers and museums are only the few correspondents between the two rumored lovers, running between the scrutinized years of 1889 towards the start of 1900, the timeline: The Sergeant running away from a German Spy group after the Detective uncovered a massive Russian Spy Ring decades earlier, calling fair game. Historians still can’t tell the full story that changed Europe, and neither do the letters.

a/n: I have obviously given up on writing, resorting to edits, but I still don’t know if this counts as an edit or a fic lmao anyway they both fit the requirements. Join me in the frustration of this AU and tell me what you think! Brackets mean commentary! Careful - this is pretty long!

@sambuckyevents​

[ The few letters curated are in code. Historians speculate it’s to hide the two men’s letters, making it difficult for anyone to read them, but what raises questions were the simple code used in each one: Caesar Cipher, a cipher where each letter of the alphabet is substituted for a letter three positions further. Historians then speculate why had the two men used such a simple and easy code to cipher their letters, and to this day, they cannot offer a concrete answer. The only letter that differed in code was from James Barnes, wherein you have to use a special kind of glasses that merges the two different inks used, red and blue, to form a coherent word. The glasses used to read this letter was owned by Samuel Wilson, but his biographers still speculate on the other colors the glasses are capable to read. ]

17, 8196 

[ date still being speculated ]

Dearest,

The only thing keeping me together was you: me wanting you so badly. I couldn’t wait to sleep in our bed, hearing you snore so softly, or watch you pace in the room, a pencil in your mouth, your murmuring dulling me to sleep. I will be awake so 

Beloved, Barns

[ Pages missing ] [ Believed to be unfinished on purpose, but is merely speculation ]

[ To hide coherency between their letters, Samuel Wilson initiated using different papers, ashing pages, and using different inks. In his other letters, Samuel Wilson used several penmanship that barely look the same from the others; this is obvious in his letters to Sarah Wilson, his sister, and James Rhodes, his close friend. James Barnes, however, only wrote in the same handwriting, but he was ambidextrous, and his right and left handwriting were strikingly different, to which he used to his advantage. ]

[ The next letter is said to be Barnes’s last letter sent to Wilson before he finally settled down in his hometown. There were no records that show that Barnes really did settle down somewhere in Brooklyn, or in New York, for that matter, but what is sure is that he had met up with his sister, Rebecca Barnes, in Brooklyn during this time. The rumored letter written by Wilson to which Barnes is replying to was burnt along with the other donations to the Smithsonian Museum in the car accident of Wilson’s last descendants - luckily, no one got hurt. 

This letter of Barnes’s was one of the few that were descriptive enough to set the scene, as seen with the reminiscing of the London Streets of where Barnes and Wilson lived in. Another detail in this letter was the infamous Scarlett Body Case, the gruesome murder of Elizabeth Scarlett, an African-American opera singer, to which Wilson was assigned to. The only ever existing information about this case is in Federal Custody among the F.B.I. who work hard on closing the case the famous detective failed to solve. The Scarlett Body Case is the last case Wilson was known to have before he disappeared. ]

Brooklyn, Dec 16, 1900

To Sam Wilson, down in Washington, D.C.

I have received your last letter with a warm heart, and all I could think about was how tragic your past years must've been. I wish I could've been right by your side, cheering you on as you trek every path that led you somewhere or to a dead end. Just as I read your hefty letter, I could feel myself submerge into the scene. I could feel the London streets and smell the thick air of smoke, feel the chilling winds of November frost as well as your lips tasting of nicotine. I breathe in the pages and could smell the strong scent of your cologne and faint blood. Have you been writing after every lead or case? I love that about you, but that doesn't mean you have to keep that awful habit. Please, at least wash your hands.

I see that you need some help on the Scarlett Body Case, yet, again, that road is past me. I don't feel the adrenaline of solving murders, jewelry thieving, or sudden disappearances, and I'm so sorry I can't give you what you want. As I sit here in my drawing room, a thought dwells upon the air, thick with dread: "Is this the only thing Sam wants from me?" and I always think, maybe it's right. Was that not the reason we left Versailles? Because we couldn't handle the loss? We've been battered and bruised, Sam, and I don't think I could take that grief to my deathbed anymore.

Time isn't kind for us, nor will it ever allow us to breathe freely. This haunts me to no end; I thought I could avoid it until your letter came to me. All the way from America, how are you doing there? You've already said so many times how your new profession is treating you, but have you felt that urgency? have you felt that adrenaline? have you tasted strawberries on another's lips yet? have you found something to exhaust your talents on? You're easy. You probably already have while you waited for this letter to come back to you.

And yes. I still do think about that night. The whipping London air we love haunts me every night in April and all I could think about is the way your hands wrap themselves around mine. I couldn’t dread you for long, and I haven’t felt so much longing until you. I know I said I don’t write much in letters, afraid that future historians might find out that I love you, adore you, cherish you, but I really don’t care anymore. I hope each day that in some other time out there, our letters will be displayed for the masses, so they, too, can know what true love is.

Yes, she is fine.

Yours, forever and always,

Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes

[ The one paged letter is said to be incomplete and may have more pages describing Barnes’s past life in England, but that is merely speculation. This letter is also under investigation by the F.B.I. to help understand better Howard Stark’s murder on December 16, 1900 to which the letter is dated; the investigators hoped that the letter would reveal any information on the aftermath of the case but the abrupt ending of the letter didn’t answer anything. ]

[ The famous line “Let your lover go, you said; I didn’t want to go” came from this letter of Barnes’s. This, in addition to the rest of the letters, were speculated to be love letters, but historians claim that there weren’t enough evidence to prove that this affair happened. 

It’s in this letter where Barnes had helped Wilson with his cases after the aftermath of their separation, and it’s this letter where historians concluded that they still exchange letters. The case with the Sir Willobough character does not exist and still stump historians and biographers to this day. ]

Brooklyn, Jan 24, 1901

Dearest Sam Wilson

Have you tried asking Sir Willobough for the napkin? You’ve recalled that he wasn’t in both places, but his alibi may be strong, but so was he: the two streets are near his store, is it not? This is the only letter you may find help from me, for I still take my stand, I do not want to help. That life is past me. My friend, have you not realized? 1892 scarred me. It has scarred you. I don’t want to take part in any endeavors that may harm you. I love you too much to see you hurt like this.

The post office was quite clumsy this whole month, because I had only received your last two letters dated Dec 12, 1889 and Dec 30, 1889 just yesterday, and I don’t know what came over me, but I had sat myself down in the drawing room and had written all of this mess. Yes, I’ve written the first page last to apologize for the mess you shall see. I didn’t want to display myself so bare like that but it had to be done: I miss you badly, I must admit. I cannot dwell on the fact that I had to leave you. We had a steady life and income, the stars cannot touch us with our fame and wealth, but, as all legends do, we died, and hence, we are forgotten. I’ve been left wishing for you to live forever but I know technology isn’t as advanced as that. I just wish you to know, may it be my final breath: I always wonder if you had loved me too, because I really couldn’t know. If you did, we would’ve stayed, but, yet again my mind surprises me, love isn’t supposed to be entrapment, it’s supposed to be free. Let you[r] lover go, you said; I didn’t want to go, Sammy. 

[ Page 2, 3, 4 missing ]

[ The fifth page is the only accompanying page of the complete letter that survived. It is where Barnes had described the night in which they had both met. The public, in addition to the historians, still debate over what the two men truly did in the library. ]

All I could think of was the day we met: I was in my uniform, had just told my superior officers to bugger off, had finally resigned from my post, and suddenly you appeared. I still remember the host of the party. His name was Howard Stark, an old and dying man, who gave out parties so extravagant, may there be stories about it. Every room was illuminated with golden lights that the stars were jealous of, and there was food from all over the world, something so delicious I had filled myself to the brim. Everyone who was everyone was there. My General’s aides-de-camps were there and I had told them to “fuck off” as I had put it gently, then right at the top of the grand staircase was an angel, yelling at the top of his lungs, ‘General Valhan, you are under arrest for arson and homicide!’ Everyone’s head turned to you and laughed, but the guards weren’t laughing, handcuffed my General and I laughed the loudest. It must’ve come as insulting and even after a decade I still apologize for it. I’m sorry. You should’ve seen his face! I have never seen such terror on a man’s face, and I’ve been to war. 

I had caught you right at the moment, chased you up the stairs, and you saw me, ran away, and we played cat and mouse until we cornered each other in the library, locked the door, and had the best night of our lives. If anyone knew what we did there, we could’ve been killed for it, but, Bah! I love it. I love you. I still remember the coat you wore and how you threw it on the floor, how we wrestled each other on the floor before kissing so gently the angels cowered at the softness. I have never seen anyone so beautiful wearing only glasses, but then again, I hadn’t met you. And all was swell, all was sweet, we shared a cigar and I asked for your name. I still remember the fake names you threw at me: Jack Smith, Richard Wilkes, Patrick Stevens. Only when you gave me your business card was when you told me.

Another memorable moment was when I had chased your train and joined you to Versailles. Everyone was stunned. Everyone hated us. I loved that so much. I would ride that train again and again if you wanted to.

[ Another notable detail in the matter were the fake names Wilson gave Barnes, because those names were the names of his lesser known solved murder cases in which all victims died by strangulation and/or air-deprivation. There are a lot more Easter Eggs of Wilson’s many cases in the single page but the most talked about is the train express to Versailles, because it is here that Barnes and Wilson were being followed, ensuing the infamous manhunt for the two men by the unnamed Russian Spy Ring. ]

[ missing pages ]

[kristannarubbish]

learn to do it (chapter 4)

summary: princess diaries but make it norway + kristanna

rating: T

word count: 2.2k

a/n: the prospect park movie night is a real thing!!! if u ever find urself in nyc (when there isn’t a pandemic) it is a great summer night plan

“So, I guess the date went well, considering you did not come home until midnight,” Olaf teased in the June morning sunlight that was streaming into their shoebox kitchen. 

Rubbing her eyes, Anna groaned, but it sounded a tad lighter than usual. “It did,” she yawned, “it went really well.” She smiled to herself as she dug in their freezer for some toaster waffles.

“That makes me happy. Finally have someone to get some of this girl off of my hands,” he chuckled while making some scrambled eggs. 

“Oh don’t be rude,” Anna sneered. She had to squeeze past him to get to the toaster.

Then, there was a moment of silence, the only thing that could be heard was the sizzling of the pan. Olaf treaded lightly, “Did you tell him?”

“Tell him what?” 

“You know, the whole crown princess thing?”

“Oh, right. That.”

“Well, did you?”

“Of course not! I’m probably going to say no anyway.”

“What?!” Olaf turned to her quickly with a very confused look on his face. “You aren’t even going to consider it?”

“Of course not. I’m not going to turn my whole life upside down,” Anna said with a slight chuckle at the end. She thought Olaf was being ridiculous.

“Anna, you could be a queen. Royalty! Like real royalty!”

“I understand that. But I can’t be a queen, I can barely get out of the door in time for work!”

“Anna, that doesn’t mean you aren’t intelligent, or charismatic or any of the other awesome things you have to offer.”

“I know b-”

Olaf cut her off. “No buts. You should try.”

Anna had gotten very flustered at this point. She wasn’t exactly angry but she couldn’t see how he thought this was a rational idea. I have a whole life here, a job, a nice apartment, and a possible boyfriend. What else could I want? 

“Why?” She huffed.

“Because this would never happen to anyone else Anna. I can’t even call it once in a lifetime because it’s more like once in a million lifetimes. Don’t you at least want to see what it is like? Give it a test run?” Olaf tried to explain his rationalization to her.

“I don’t think you can just give being a princess a test run,” Anna put air quotes around the last part and rolled her eyes.

“Maybe you can,” he suggested.

“What?” she cocked an eyebrow at him.

“All I’m saying is you should ask the queen if she is willing to let her try to train you, and if you hate it? Then you don’t have to become princess and everything will go back to normal. It’s only fair if she expected you to do all of this so quickly,” Olaf stated as he handed her a plate of eggs.

Anna’s mouth was agape. She didn’t even think of somewhere in the middle. She just assumed that it was one or the other. “I didn’t even think of that,” she breathed.

************************************

On her way up to the penthouse in the secret elevator with the stoic Mattias once again, Anna tried cracking a joke to lighten the mood between them.

“Why did the sad ghost take the elevator?” Anna looked up at the man inquisitively. 

“To lift his spirit?” Mattias cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Huh. I really thought that one was original.”

“Not my first elevator ride, Ms. Anderson.”

The doors opened to once again reveal the penthouse that looked like a condensed Palace of Versailles. From the golden pillars to the painted ceilings, Anna was sure she had seen something just like this in a history textbook. She was sure if she was ever here often, if Queen Sonja did agree to her compromise, she would not mind being here often.

Anna had made sure to dress up this time. It was later the same day, so after another pep talk from herself in the mirror on how “she could do this” and a set of what Olaf called “warrior faces”, she made sure to get dressed nicely. She was wearing a kiwi green sundress with gold jewelry, her hair in a braid going around the back of her head and natural makeup. With a tiny bit of winged liner of course, because it made her feel powerful.

When the woman from last time saw her, she smiled just as she did before, “Right in here Ms. Anderson.”

This time, when Anna sat down for tea she did not slouch to make herself smaller. She sat with a straight back. She was still nervous, but she had intentions this time. When these things were on her terms, she felt way better about them. She just hoped they would stay that way.

Anna still had not processed all of the terrifying things the queen had told her about yesterday, but she had a feeling that a way she could slowly unpack all of these falsehoods about her entire life would be by seeing what her life could have been like if the car crash never happened.

So, even if she ultimately decided not to be princess, she could at least have a road map of what to do next. She wants to know who she could have been and could still be. 

Interrupting her thoughts, Queen Sonja walked in through the glittering golden doors. Anna stood up, remembering her small bit of etiquette after last time. 

“Your majesty,” the younger woman smiled slightly, hoping that the queen would approve of her more presentable self.

“Anna,” Queen Sonja said lightly, inspecting her again. “I’m glad to see your back so soon. You may sit.” The women sat across from each other in silence for a moment as china was clinked together and tea was poured.

“I came with a proposition,” Anna announced, reminding herself to sit with her back straight up. The foreign feeling reminded her of a version of herself she did not recognize yet.

“Oh?” the blonde woman raised an eyebrow.

“I would like to train to become a princess, but only if I am allowed to decide if I want to assume the role by the end. I can ask out at any time,” she made sure her words were filled with strength like the queen’s had been, so there was no room for negotiation.

Queen Sonja’s eyes widened and she looked out the window they were sitting next to. The endless view of Central Park served as the perfect picture that was framed by the tall window’s antique bordering. Anna got a little nervous at her silence.

“Very well, Anna. I agree to your… compromise of sorts,” the girl’s newfound grandmother looked back at her with a smile. Something she hadn’t seen yet.

“Really?” Anna’s face lit up. “Oh my gosh, thank you! This is so great!”

“Yes, and you already passed lesson one,” the older woman sipped her tea.

“What’s that?”

“Talking in a way while making a deal so there is no room for compromise,” Queen Sonja’s face went into a full fledged smile.

**************************

Anna had felt like she was walking on air. She had just gotten exactly what she wanted from a queen. The older woman said they would train Anna every Monday through Friday, with a few royal events in the city to serve as checkpoints. They would work together through the end of September, when the Queen was going back to Arendelle, and Anna would make her decision then.

That night at work, things only got better for Anna.

Before the evening rush started, Kristoff tapped her on the shoulder while she was making sets of forks and knives in napkins. She jumped a little, but then she smiled when she turned around and saw him.

“H-Hey Anna,” Kristoff still fumbled his words a little, not fully recovering from their romantic evening from the night before. His cheeks flushed.

“Hey Kris, uh.. What’s up?” 

“I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go to this thing tomorrow? It’s Prospect Park tomorrow night, like a movie picnic thing. We can pack a basket and I’ll bring the blanket if you want. But, only if you want to-” the man was rambling, which was a rarity, but he was grateful she cut him off.

“Kris, that sounds like a lot of fun. I would love to.”

“Great,” that damn high pitch was back again, so he cleared his throat, “I’ll see you on your doorstep at 7?”

“I’ll be there,” Anna planted a soft kiss on his cheek and they both got very flustered. After some glances, they both got back to work.

Throughout the night, lot’s of glances were stolen between the two. Anna’s job didn’t even really entail her coming to the kitchen often, but she took every chance she had to do so tonight.

Whenever anyone else needed to go back to the kitchen who was working the house, she did it for them. And everytime she did Anna made sure to smile at Kristoff. Sometimes he saw her, sometimes he didn’t. Which she eventually did feel guilty for because while he was cutting celery, he accidentally cut his finger. Anna would make up for it tomorrow.

The next day the both of them packed their favorite snacks. Kristoff made his at home, and Anna tried to bake cookies but thought they weren’t good enough, so she ended up buying junk food from the papi store on her block. This made her feel guilty, like she was cheating in the game of picnic basket packing, but she got over it. She was sure that the story of almost setting her apartment on fire twice would be endearing enough to make up for it. Maybe these unfortunate cookies could even lead to another date. He could say something like, “I’ll teach you how, if you want.” And of course I would say yes, hopefully not looking like a fucking tomato while I do.

Interrupting her daydream, Anna’s phone buzzed. Kristoff was waiting outside. She stuck her head out of her bedroom window that was wide open to let the summer evening breeze flow through her room. “I’ll be right down!” She yelled from 3 stories up. Kristoff squinted up at her and smiled broadly. 

In a few seconds, after sliding on her white sneakers, Anna was in front of the blonde’s eyes. Kristoff swore she looked more beautiful every time he saw her, if that was even possible. They both looked at each others baskets in confusion.

“I th-” both of the lovebirds started at the same time. They chuckled. They both thought they were the ones responsible for the snacks.

“I don’t know about you, but I have never been one to be angry at more snacks,” Anna giggled and it sounded like a song. 

Kristoff smiled once again, “I’ll take your basket if you want.”

“No, I can carry it, but your chivalry does not go unnoticed.”

“Well, I try my best.”

“Your best is better than any other kind imaginable,” she flirted. His cheeks flushed red. Anna’s great mood was making her more bold than normal.

“Oh- uh, thank you. Should we get going?” he stammered. Anna nodded.

The walk was beautiful. The skyscrapers were illuminated by yellow light, turning a concrete jungle into sunset paradise. 

Anna had told him about how much better she was feeling and he told her how happy that made him. Kristoff told her all of the funny things Sven did for months trying to get him to ask her out, though it was a bit embarrassing. She didn’t think it was though, she said it was cute. While sitting in the green park, they showed each other what they brought.

Kristoff took a mini chocolate cake out of his bag. “I know how much you like chocolate cake at the restaurant, so I made you it with my own twist.” Anna’s face lit up, “Oh you did not have to do that!”

He rubbed the back of his neck and his cheeks turned pink, “I hope you like it.”

“Kris, everything you make is amazing. I doubt I will not like it,” she rested her hand on top of his hesitantly. Their fingers curled together and they averted each other's eyes.

“This makes me feel bad about my bad attempt at baking.” Anna did not release his hand, but used the other to take out her cookies.

“Oh, they can’t be that bad. Let me try one.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’ll tell you what I think from a chef’s perspective.” He mocked himself on the last two words and Anna laughed as she handed him a chocolate chip cookie. He put it in his mouth and made a grimace, but put on a fake smile.

“Anna these are…”

“You don’t have to lie.”

“I feel bad,” he smiled lopsidedly. Anna burst into a fit of laughter, not letting go of his hand, pulling their union to her chest. He began to laugh as well. She keeled over onto their purple blanket that Kristoff had borrowed from Sven.

“It’s okay that these are..” Kristoff said between laughs, “not the best. I can teach you how to make the best ones ever, if you want.”

Anna smiled sweetly, “That’s exactly what I thought you would say.”

[mortarchive]

My Journey to Lexington and Return to Aotearoa

On Monday the 20th of July NZ time at 11:30 my sister went missing. Her fiancee told me she was seen on security footage getting out of their car and walking away. She was found by Lexington, Kentucky police 4 hours later, extremely dehydrated and distressed. She had a mental health incident. I won’t go into this further to protect her privacy.

I flew over to be with her, leaving on the 29th of August when it was obvious to us that she needed support as did her fiancée who was struggling on his own with worry and looking after himself also. As the youngest family member who has dual citizenship and earns the least as well as being her sister able to provide intimate care, I was elected to go and help.

My flights over took two days, I stayed a night in LA. In the parts of the US I visited there was absolutely no quarantining. As a citizen, I was not even subjected to a health screening.

Once I got to Lexington it was much easier to reach my sister while she was in the hospital and we made our best effort to call her twice a day. She told us this was extremely helpful for her path to getting better. By the time she left, she was very bored as she is extremely intelligent. She was quite anxious and unable to focus on reading, as well as not being allowed anything to write with except crayons and couldn’t get ideas out of her head.

On the 6th of August she was able to come home and it was so good to hug her. We spent the next three weeks talking, drawing, making food, playing video and board games, going for walks, playing with one-year-old Sochi and the cats.

I was able to work remotely the whole time and I am extremely thankful to my work for being so accommodating.

I had never been to Kentucky before. Going outside was quite strange, and I mostly tried to avoid it except for exercise, groceries and essential items. People sat at tables outdoors, none wearing masks. We mostly tried to do our groceries via pickup, which worked out well. Lexington is very similar to Auckland in that is hot, humid, flat, spread out and full of people obsessed with their cars.

Something I never had seen before in New Zealand was motorcyclists with no helmets and no leathers, I assume it would be an infringement on their rights to not be brutally be killed in an accident.

There were many signs for personal injury attorneys, Jesus and the military. One Baptist Church had a sign saying “NO ITS NOT HOT AS HELL”.

I enjoyed the myriad of inexpensive vegan snacks such as cheddar flavoured chickpea puffs and cream cheese alternative.

Lexington has a huge history of horse racing and many of the streets were named after famous horses such as “Man o’ War Boulevard.” I also enjoyed Versailles Road which is pronounced by the locals as Ver-Sails. My sister’s home is across from Red Mile, a giant horse racing track and casino. They way they circumvent the gambling laws is by only having slot machines that have tiny horse races from years ago that you are betting on.

The tension about the election was palpable in the friends of my brother-in-law and the household itself. Many people are terrified for November and the farce of a democracy the United States has become. With the USPS being de-funded, mail boxes being removed, prisoners not allowed to vote who were convicted for non-violent drug offenses and protesters in Portland being snatched of the street in unmarked vans by unidentified people in SWAT gear, it is a fascist state.

I am an American, I was born in Colorado, I have family that I love that are not what we hear on the news here on this little island in The Pacific. The loud conspiracy theorists are a vocal few, and we need to remember as people of Aotearoa that they exist here too. I will never forget the faces of the 5G conspiracy theorist protesters as we walked down the main street protesting in support of the Black Lives Matter movement. We are not above Americans. I am proud to be a citizen of both countries while recognizing the flaws of both nations.

Please vote.

My return journey home was painless other than accidentally spending $40 US on a half bottle of wine at LAX. I now know fancy wines are a racket because it tasted the same as any other chardonnay to me.

Other than having my temperature taken and asked about any Covid symptoms I might have, my entry into New Zealand was the same as always. It really helps to be a citizen of the place you are traveling to.

Once we had processed through customs I was led to a bus that took us to The Pullman Auckland, a 4.4 star hotel on Princes Street. There were about a dozen or so of us on the bus and our luggage was loaded and unloaded for us by people in full personal protective equipment. We were explained what the process would then be by a Ministry of Health representative and a member of the Air Force. We were checked in at one desk, asked why we traveled and where we would be staying at another. The third desk was an explanation of the hotel facilities and procedures. The fourth desk was a health interview with a nurse. I filled out a meal request form while I waited. I notified them that I do not consume animals or things that come out of them. Absolutely everyone was extremely kind and efficient.

I then went to my room on the tenth floor which has a beautiful view of Albert Park and I can see the Sky Tower to the right. Around 8:30am they brought me a lovely vegan breakfast of bacon and eggs. A couple hours later I noticed the yogurt they had brought said “VEGAN YOGHURT” on the bag. I ate it very happily! There is no fridge or microwave.

I joined my work team meeting and tried to work but the internet is really bad to connect remotely to our servers on. I fell asleep at 3pm and woke up at 3am. I have watched a lot of Star Trek: the Next Generation.

I tried out another eye makeup with the new supplies I got in Kentucky. I went to the exercise facilities on the ground floor, saw all the people walking in circles, panicked and returned to my room to do laps, burpees and sit-ups. The Covid tummy is out in full force and I hope to get back to my regular exercise.

I spoke to my sister, mother and some of my best friends Jasmin, Maya and Lewis. I had my temperature taken again by a nurse and I am normal. Now I am here writing this and eating a lunch of tofu and spinach.

I will spend the next to weeks trying to work as I can, making art, playing games, speaking to the people I love and thinking about my plans for the future. I hope to pursue further education on Community Partnerships with a focus in local government. I loved my time on Youth Council and hope to be a voice in decision-making to represent unheard and marginalized voices. I want to be there for queer people, youth, takatāpui, multicultural communities, women and a voice for the arts. I am hoping to achieve a Certificate in Social and Community Leadership through the University of Auckland next year, where I have been offered a place. I now have to think about how I’m going to make that happen with in-person classes whether I will move to be near Epsom or fly up for my classes once a week.

Arohanui and Ngā mihi,

Samantha

[jemej3m]

to the moon and back (p1)

a softer high school au because i love high school aus fuck off i know ive written like ten 

also, boys like you (by Who Is Fancy) is a gay vibe and is absolutely the vibe of this fic

part one | part two | part three

Andrew swung his legs from where he was sitting on the picnic table, glaring at Renee sitting beneath him. She grinned with crossed legs, pushing at his feet so they would swing.

Andrew, spiteful as ever, didn’t move unless he had to. Moving was motion and motion caught people’s attention and if Andrew gave him the chance, Kevin would continue to plead with him on refusing to join the exy team.

His brother was on it. His best friends were on it. They played a tonne of cute guys from other schools. That was Kevin’s pathetic attempt at appealing to Andrew, to which Andrew had taken his shiny, new pocket knife and stabbed it into the school cafeteria’s table by Kevin’s clenched fist.

It was only the four at this table - Renee, Kevin, Aaron and himself - who knew about Andrew being gay, and Betsy -- of course.

He’d backed off after that, but Kevin’s cool-down period for pissing Andrew off was irritatingly short. He sat, barely a metre away, looking on at Andrew and Renee silently. Aaron was texting, probably that simpering junior Katelyn. Andrew didn’t like it, but what was he supposed to do about it?

You’re just jealous you don’t have a girlfriend. Aaron had teased him the other week, when Andrew grumbled about his twin’s obsession with the girl. Andrew then sneered about probably being able to fool Katelyn into thinking he was Aaron, and then Betsy had to quell their little cat fight.

They never fought about anything seriously. They’d been thrown into the foster system together at birth, and adopted by Betsy a week after their 10th birthdays. They had fought to survive together: Logically, Andrew knew Katelyn wouldn’t put a divide between something like that. But Aaron was the logical one, and sometimes Andrew couldn’t help but let his anxiety win.

Renee tugged on his sneakers to catch his attention. “How was tutoring yesterday?”

He rolled his eyes with heightened exaggeration. “I got stuck with some kid who’s absolutely abysmal with Literature and History. He can’t drop them, because he’s at the bare minimum, so he’s practically going to be riding me so he can pass all his exams. Typical jock.”

Andrew didn’t add that Neil Josten was hopelessly attractive.

“Well, who is it?” Kevin demanded, in his usual Kevin fashion. He really had no idea how to do anything lightly.

“Neil Josten. Year below us.”

The green-eyed boy looked relieved. “Oh, thank god. Coach was going to kick him off the team if he didn’t focus more on school.”

Wait. What?

“He’s on the fucking exy team.” Andrew muttered under his breath. He couldn’t believe his luck.

“Since when were you on the fucking exy team?” Andrew dropped his things onto the table, not caring about the glowers that other students of the library sent his way for being obnoxiously disruptive.

Andrew is often obnoxiously disruptive in class, but performs extremely well in examinations. He must do a lot of studying at home to achieve that result: He might find that he would have plenty of leisure time if he just listened in class, rather than talking to other students or sleeping.

His report comments were always interesting, as were Betsy’s reactions.

Neil flinched at the noise, which was new. Then he shrugged, avoiding Andrew’s gaze. “Since I started.”

“Right.” Andrew drawled. “And you didn’t think to mention it to me, considering we’re trying to improve your grades to keep you on said team?”

“Sorry.” Neil muttered.

He paused. The boy was awfully withdrawn for an unknown reason: Neil Josten was all spitfire and burning scorn, with bouncing red curls, ice-like blue eyes and freckled cheeks, marred by horrific scarring. He told people it was surgery and acne. That was bullshit: It had to be. “I didn’t want an apology. I want a reason why.”

He shrugged again. “You hate Kevin Day. I didn’t think it would be a good idea to mention him.”

Andrew snorted. “Kevin’s been one of my closest friends since middle school. But I do hate him. He sucks all the way to the moon and back. He wont shut the fuck up about exy because we used to play together.”

“You did?” Neil shot up, the spark somewhat returning to his eye. “You play exy?”

“No.” Andrew told the one-track minded jock. “Get your work out. I’m giving up my time for a reason.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “You volunteered for it.”

No, he didn’t. He was avoiding detention. He told Neil so, but the boy still smirked.

“You still chose to tutor me that sit in a room on your own, which I thought was more your style.”

“Fuck off.” Andrew said decidedly and poked him in the cheek with a pen. Neil scrubbed it off quickly, looking worriedly at the ink coming off on his fingers. Andrew forced himself not to care.

Neil was truly hopeless with these subjects. He might be fluent in multiple others and a natural with mathematic equations, but trying to wrack his brain for anything he could remember about King Lear or the Treaty of Versailles was like getting a stone to bleed.

By the time the hour was over, Andrew’s head hurt. Despite the obvious aggravation Neil caused, he couldn’t get himself to give it up. Neil was too interesting.

When they left the library it was dark outside and the last stragglers like themselves were being shooed off campus. Andrew marched straight to his car. It was excessively expensive, due to the twins receiving their mother’s life inheritance and an extra tidbit from Betsy. They’d never met her: they just knew she was estranged from her brother and the rest of her family, which was why they’d received the money instead.

When Neil didn’t follow, he paused to call out to him. “Junkie.” He’d been dropping Neil home after every session thus far. Something had changed.

Neil didn’t look at him. “I’ve got a few errands to run.”

Andrew didn’t press it and left Neil standing alone and dejected on the sidewalk.

“Cut the shit. What’s going on?”

Andrew stayed behind the doorway, listening to the conversation. Wymack wasn’t a gentle person, but this was his compassionate side at work: Pulling his athletes aside and getting to the bottom of their problems. He claimed it was to make sure they lived up to his expectations on court, but that was bullshit. Wymack was an absolute grouch of a softy.

“I’m fine, coach.” Neil said. Typical.

“Bullcrap. You could barely keep up with Kevin this morning, and you’re usually running your little heart out, way ahead of him. What’s wrong.”

A moment of pause.

“Nothing, coach. Just a late night.”

Andrew, Wymack and Neil all knew that they could see right through his lies. Well, Wymack and Neil didn’t know he was there. But that was besides the point.

“Scram, Josten.” He said tiredly.

Andrew vanished before Neil had the chance to flee the man’s office. It didn’t need any convincing: Andrew was going to get to the bottom of the stupid, pretty-faced Exy junkie’s strange behaviour.

It was a new, perplexing puzzle to solve. Andrew stopped his jog a distance away from the coach’s office and watched the boy cross the courtyard. Neil glanced at him only once before ducking his head and running off.

Andrew was only doing this because Neil was interesting. Not because he cared. No, not at all.

“Come here.” Andrew snapped.

It was a bad day. He’d woken up in an awful mood, and nothing could improve it. Small, usually insignificant events had turned his mood from sour to volatile and he was itching to get home and into bed, turn off the lights and hide under the covers with Aaron and play on their old Nintendos until Betsy joined them with hot cocoa and marshmallows. Every gaze upon him was sickening, every noise around him making him wince.

Neil, despite his harsh words and reprimands throughout the hour, hadn’t seemed afraid of him. He looked exhausted but not scared as he approached Andrew’s hunched figure on the hood of his car.

Carefully, Neil took the cigarette from between Andrew’s fingers and looked at it, almost melancholic. When it began to wither away, he took a drag and coaxed it slowly back to life. He breathed out slowly, without coughing or choking. Then he slotted the cigarette back between Andrew’s unmoving fingers.

Fuck you. He thought, bitterly. He thought about Drake, his first boyfriend, and how he had ruined everything for Andrew. Maybe he wouldn’t be so scared to kiss Neil, if it weren’t for Drake. Maybe he’d be finally comfortable with his sexuality, if it weren’t for Drake. Maybe he would be able to go through a school day without being terrified for Aaron’s safety if it weren’t for Drake. He would never had needed to lie to Aaron and Betsy, if it weren’t for Drake.

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, his mind continued. Neil was looking at him with a blank stare. “Give me one good reason not to cut your throat.”

“You called me over here.” He reminded Andrew. Andrew wanted to sneer, but he was spread too thin today. “Andrew, I’m not scared of you.”

“You’re so stupid.” He ground out.

“Maybe.” Neil agreed.

“Why haven’t you asked what’s wrong?” He demanded, stubbing out his cigarette. His back was hurting from sitting like this, but being on the car’s hood gave him a height advantage over Neil. Neil had to crane his neck up to see him, but he was still unafraid. “Everyone asks what’s wrong.”

“I already know something’s wrong.” Neil shrugged. “I don’t need to know what, or why.”

They were very different, then. Neil was complacent to exist, to have everything at face-value, to accept what he was given and never take more. Andrew was deprived of so much that he grabbed for what he could. Two different methods of coping. Two different boys.

And yet, the same sense of understanding, shared between them.

“Let me drive you home.” Andrew said.

“I can’t.” Neil replied.

Andrew nodded and dismissed him with a flick of his fingers. He watched Neil walk away and didn’t move until he was well out of his sight. Then he sighed, hopped off the car and spent the drive home thinking of an excuse as to why he was later than usual for his adoptive mother.

It never worked. He almost always told her the truth.

There were three taps on his bedroom door the next morning, a Saturday morning, which wasn’t what woke Andrew: It never was. His meds made him sleep extremely heavily, which would be sickeningly dangerous if he wasn’t living in a house with only his mother and his brother.

What awoke him was the smell of hot chocolate being brought into the room, and the shrill tone of the home phone’s end dial. He hated that fucking thing, but Betsy needed it because she couldn’t use her mobile for work-related emergencies. His eyes flickered open as his mom settled the mug by his bed.

“Thanks.” He mumbled into the pillow.

“Feeling steadier?” Betsy stroked his hair carefully, knowing that was all she was allowed to do.

He nodded. She smiled gently and offered him the phone. “A friend of yours called. He said to call him back.”

Andrew sat up too quickly, considering he’d skipped dinner. His mouth tasted like July roadkill, having not drunk any water since midafternoon yesterday and his head throbbed. It was all familiar. He snatched the phone and pouted underneath Betsy’s shrewd look. She poked his nose and left the bedroom just as quickly as she’d entered.

The only ‘friend’ Andrew had who didn’t have his mobile number was Neil - mostly because Neil didn’t have a phone himself, but also because asking to talk outside of their tutoring sessions would be admitting to his interest in Neil, which was, obviously, completely crap. Andrew couldn’t care less about him.

“Come to my Exy game.” Neil said, before Andrew’d had the chance to ask him what the fuck did he think he was doing, and how the fuck he got this number. “Ple-” He cut himself off.

Andrew almost forgot they’d had that conversation.

“That’s a lot of please’s in one sentence.” Neil remarked, looking at the practise exam questions for his lit. exam. Andrew snatched the paper off him and looked: The excerpt was two sentences from some random book he’d never heard of. He got a pen and scribbled it out with more aggression than intended.

“You don’t have to do that question.” He decided, re-centring himself easily.

“What did ‘Ballad to Impress’ do to you?” Neil snorted.

“I hate that word.” He answered. “Don’t do the question.”

The boy just nodded. “Okay.”

“Why the fuck am I going to come to your Exy game?”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Just come.”

Now that caught Andrew’s attention. “One question and one honest answer.”

“Yes.” He sounded nervous. “It starts in half an hour: It’s a home game. Will you be there?”

Andrew had to admit, Neil was impossible to deny. “Yes, junkie.”

He let out a sigh of relief, as though he’d been holding it in. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Shut up.” Andrew hung up.

He threw the phone off the bed and flopped back, staring at the ceiling, his mind and heart simultaneously racing.

He definitely hated Neil Josten. So much. All the way to the moon and back.  

:)

[the-settingsun]

We're all gonna die - Edward Nygma x reader. Songfic

Please listen to the song as you read.

Quick songfic about my dear Eddie. Because he needs to be protected. My precisious baby boy. Feel free to request and give feedback I'd appreciate it. Also I dont proofread so point out any mistakes to me.

Gif credit to the owner.

Warnings : Blood, mentions of abuse, injuries.

The evil it spread like a fever ahead

,,What can be lost but never found?" Your boyfriend yelled at you while he took another bottle of alcohol and drank it in one go. The thunder encouraged him to put down the bottle on the small wooden table beside the window. He slowly started approaching you, you were expecting him to insult you again and his words schocked you. He wiped his nose with his hand and smirked ,,Do you like riddles?" He fake frowned ,,Or just the riddle man?". You froze, he found out about Eddie. Only man who treat you right. The GCPD was a pretty small after all. You knew what was this man infront of you capable of. ,,Please dont hurt him" you whispered looking down at your bare legs. ,,Honey, you know its for your own good" he purred into your ear. ,, Please stop" you said as quietly as possible. There was no point in fighting him, he always got what he wanted.

It was night when you died, my firefly.

After he was done with you he left like always. Broken glass, broken furniture and broken bones.

You didnt feel anything, your body wasnt yours anymore, your mind was black. But oh the floor the cold floor that make your skin crawl. Was is the floor or the blood? No one can tell. Cold, as the raging storm outside. The thunders couldnt be heard anymore but the lightning helped you see, always for a split second.

What could I have said to raise you from the dead?

Oh could I be the sky on the Fourth of July?

As you watched the same picture appear before you for hours you gave up. The pain was not worth it. It was time to move on, past the small ligh provided by your eyes that got already used to the dark. You were ready to see the light. It was silence, you cried softly as you slowly pulled your hand from the wound caused by the glass shards.With the very last strenght you had you managed to reach broken table, with one leg missing. Your whole body weight was now relying on it. The crimson shined for a brief moment, another lightning. You fell again getting tiny pieces of wood stuck in your already bloody arm. The pain kicked in as you tried to reach the phone. Every step you took was followed by lightning, displaying the silluettes of broken window on the floor beneath your feet. You reached the phone and pushed yourself against the wall. Looking at your wound and bloody hands putting pressure on it. You sensed you had last few moment infrotn of you. And so you dialed the number

Edward Nygma

1234567891011

Call

Text

Well you do enough talk

The moment you heard the dial tone you broke down. There was so much you didnt do in life, you wanted to

tell Edward everything, have amazing dates, help your daughter with her boyfriends, cry during your son's wedding. But now it was all gone in the clouds. ,, Hello this is Ed.Im sorry I cant currently talk leave a message" you put the phone down on the ground anf sighted.

My little hawk, why do you cry?

,

,Ed? Are you th-there?" Your lips slowly moved ,, (Y/N) is that you? Whats wrong? Where are you? Are you hurt" Ed spoke quickly through the screen. ,,Im home, I dont have much time, I-I-I think I-I'll die Ed. Im afraid" you heard him curse quietly,the some rumbling and door opening. Meanwhile you tried to adjust your position but your hand couldnt support you. So you sat there against cabinet slowly bleeding, looking at the ceiling above, clutching your stomach. You couldnt make out anything from the call except : Jim, help and Ed's panicking voice ,,(Y/N) talk to me please)"

Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?

Or the Fourth of July?

You glanced at the clock, it was past midnight. ,,Ed can you believe it? I made it to another day" you chuckled and hissed in pain right after. ,,(Y/N) please hang on, Im coming, the ambulance is coming, you are gonna make it" This time it wasnt his typical panic voice. Ed was crying. You blinked and more tears fell down on you sleeves.

,,Ed, Im sorry"

We're all gonna die

You heard him sight,,No, (Y/N) there is nothing to be sorry for. Its all my fault" he said and his voice broke ,,I should have seen it, I should have protected you" he let out a sob and began crying and sobbin more. ,,Eddie? I-I, you're right I should have told someone. But please dont blame yourself. Dont" you whined and put your hand over your mouth. You focused so much on your sobs you couldnt hear Ed. ,,-I cant lose you (Y/N), you are the only one that ever accepted me" he went silent. Or was it you?

Sitting at the bed with the halo at your head

Was it all a disguise, like Junior High

Where everything was fiction, future, and prediction

Now, where am I?

My fading supply

It was all too much, everything too fast and too slow at the same time.

Your cries overpowered the sound of now returned thunders as you heard cars going by below your window. ,,It hurts" you screamed in pain as you moved your arn away to overlook the injury again. ,,We're almost there (Y/N) just hold on."

,,Did you actually mean it?" Once again you asked but now with smile on your face. ,,Or is it just faded memory?" Remembering events of last weekend when you two attended police ball, he pretended to be your ,,scary" boyfriend infront of bunch of arrogant officers. Ed cleared his throath and gulped

,, The ball?" there was silence. You knew you couldnt stand up so you carefully started sliding yourself closer to the floor. ,,I did, you (Y/N) are the most beautiful, trustworthy and inteligent person I know" you stopped, only youd neck was now againt the cabinet. ,,Funny I thought you were just bluffing"

Did you get enough love, my little dove

Why do you cry?

,,What happened (Y/N) I thought you two were happy" you went silent letting the thunder be answer. You used your free habd to push yourself away from the cabinet. Now you were just laying there ,,I thought so too Ed. I loved him I did. I told myself" he kept silent you presumed he was close. Despite thunders you heard a train on the other line. The train station. He wasn't gonna make it. There wasnt enough time for him to hold you in his arms. ,,I love you Ed" you whispered loud enough for it to be heard. He took a deep breath. You messed up, but he deserves to know.

,,I love you so much (Y/N), now you cant leave here alone. I-I cant make it withouth you"

And I'm sorry I left, but it was for the best

Though it never felt right

My little Versailles

,,Isnt it funny? I was always too scred to tell you and now" you coughed and gasped for air ,,we cant be together anyways. Maybe we could be another tragic pair of lovers like in the books" you softly laughted before you strated coughing again. It was blood, but at your state there wasnt place around there wasnt blood. ,,(Y/N) It was me who bought you the flowers not officer-" you stopped him ,,I always knew, the wws this little voice in my head that i-i-it was y-you." You winced as breathed. Last minutes.

The hospital asked should the body be cast

Before I say goodbye, my star in the sky

Such a funny thought to wrap you up in cloth

Do you find it all right, my dragonfly?

,, Eddie, we both know how is it going to end. I just do-do-ont want you to blame yourse-lf" you both inhales sharply. You because speaking makes you weaker and Ed because he was having a war with himself right now.,,No" you were silent. ,,No, there will not be anything I'd have to regret!" He yelled and cried at the same time. Poor Eddie, you knew how vulnerable he was. ,,If I die" I dont want you to visit me. ,, I wouldnt want you to dwell on the past. I'll be a dead end. Literally" you giggled a little before Ed screamed through the phone ,,FOR GODS SAKE (Y/N) YOU ARE DYING. STOP JOKING ABOUT IT."

,,Sorry, sorry. I am serious. Do-Do not attend my funereal, dont bring me flowers, dont get involved in the case." whispering you wiped your tears for the first time.

,,Why (Y/N)? So am I supposed to forget about you? If you are telling truth and you do love which I certainly hope you do. You are the love of my life (Y/N)." Once again the muffled cried from the other side of the phone were drown out by the now stronger storm. ,,Because I would break you"

Shall we look at the moon, my little loon

Why do you cry?

,,Tell me a-a-a ridd-d-riddle Edd-Eddi-Ed" you sighted as you felt your breath slowing down every minute. ,,What are the three words that are said too much, but not enough"

,,I love you"

,,So do I"

Silence.

Make the most of your life, while it is rife

,,H-H-El-Hell-Hello?" You coughed so hard your head raised from the ground only to fall back there.

,, Im here (Y/N), Jim is here. You are here. Im not losing you now."

He hanged up.

While it is light

The front door opened and the lights turned off. It shocked your body and you gasped. A figure was kneeling next to you. It was Edward Nygma. The one you loved.

Well you do enough talk

,,I wanted to grow old with you

(Y/N). I still want to. Dont.leave.me" Ed held you tighter and put his hand on your cheek and as he slowly sobbed. Hie glasses were wet from his tears and rain. He was a shaking mess. You looked into his eyes. And smiled.

My little hawk, why do you cry?

Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?

Or the Fourth of July?

We're all gonna die

You lifted up the hanf that was on your wound. Ed quickly put it back, applying the pressuee back. Being confused and still pouring his soul out through tears. You sturggled and released yourself from his grip. You hand was now cupping his cheek. With every little strenght you had you barely leaned forward and pecked edwards lips he was just starring at you, knowing its the end. With that, he pressed you towards him harder and frantically held you thinking you could disappear in every second. With that the ambulance arrived and...

We're all gonna die

We're all gonna die

We're all gonna die

We're all gonna die

We're all gonna die

We're all gonna die

We're all gonna die

Name : (Y/N) (L/N)

Date of death : 4th of july

[hannahmcne]

Lost on the Case - Chapter 7

At five o'clock Alya couldn't sleep, so she slipped out of the room as silently as possible without waking Nino. She went to the living room and spread out an arsenal of lined paper, black and blue pens, and sticky notes. She was going to crack this case once and for all.

Armed with at least four hours of sleep and a renewed vision of what had occurred almost ten years ago, she opened up her video of Chat Noir's email. Using frequent pausing, she was able to read the entire contents.

The Marinette emails were seven in quantity. They were short, out-of-context, and showed a side of her friend that Alya had never seen. They'd been sent over a period of two days and changed a lot of what Alya thought about the case.

CN: This is Chat Noir, reporting for duty. Do I read my princess?

MDC: Hey kitty. Glad it worked.

CN: Me too. Could have been catastrophic if someone else had gotten this

MDC: Created a new email address. La_coccinelle.

CN: Sweet. Just sent an email. Did it work?

MDC: Yup.

CN: Sweet. Make sure to delete these emails on your end on the off-chance someone reads your emails after we're gone.

Alya felt like she was fourteen again, famous for running after akumas and uploading stories about the symbolic history of ladybugs. One large half of her was overjoyed at what she'd discovered. Namely 'my best friend is on a nickname basis with one of Paris's superheroes' and 'Chat Noir puns in his emails'. But a very small portion of her spirit was shivering. Marinette had created the Ladybug address. She scribbled on a paper to keep her mind going, even though she was afraid of what she'd find.

Problem: Marinette created the Ladybug email.

Solutions/Options: It's the real account, or it's not.

And, of course, on that note, Chat Noir had definitely planned to leave to somewhere with Marinette.

With shaking hands, she started the portion of the video with the Ladybug emails. There were more of these, twenty-three in all. They spanned the time up until the night Marinette was kidnapped, even going past Adrien's death.

1. CN: Do I read my Princess?

2. LB: This account is actually under Ladybug, but you can call me whatever. Either way, it's me.

3. CN: Kay. I found a house. 420€ yearly rental. It's large, out of way. Two-story.

4. LB: Bed/Bath?

5. CN: Four baths and seven-bed.

6. LB: Wow, large. Sounds good. Rented car yet?

7. CN: No but I found a place. I'll actually step in and rent it after I've died.

8. LB: Kay. I'll suit up and hit up Alya and Chloe today. When does Nino get back?

9. CN: Late tomorrow. I can drop off to him.

10. LB: Great.

11. CN: I'm just about to push my fake body out the window, then I'll head over.

12. LB: Make it to the house okay?

13. CN: Yup. Put your things in a spare room. I'm going to order in for a few essential furniture items. Pls help?

14. LB: Use francecanape.

15. CN: Kay. Have things blown up yet?

16. LB: Sorry to have taken so long. Yes, things were dreary at school today. A gardener discovered your body before lunch, so when we came back from break Ms. Bustier was crying. I think I did well pretending I didn't know what was coming. Chloe left school. Nino was taken out of class and sent home. The lesson was canceled. Great day. Everyone misses you.

17. CN: I miss everyone. Do you think you played the sad crush part well enough?

18. LB: Knowing you were actually alive made it hard, so there weren't any tears. I just went unresponsive until Ms. Bustier sent me to the nurse. Then I went home with a nurse ticket and watched sad videos on YouTube until my face was red. Alya didn't pry, so I think I did good. I just got off of a facetime with her.

19. CN: Clever bug. Did my dad say anything?

20. LB: Not yet. I'll keep you updated. LMK when you come back to get me.

21. CN: On my way. Ready to be kidnapped?

22. LB: I'm wearing a black jacket with white buttons and red leggings. I'll leave in thirty-two minutes.

23. CN: I'd know you anywhere, my lady. Lying in wait and in position. See you soon. (I love you)

Alya began to cry. She'd forgotten so many details. She'd missed how Marinette hadn't cried. She remembered that stupid FaceTime.

The door to the bedroom down the hall opened and Nino emerged, rubbing his eyes. "Alya?" He mumbled. "Why are you up?" He came over and squinted at the screen. Alya wasn't sure he could read anything through the layers of eye boogers around his lids, but he still leaned down to hug her.

"Figure it out?" He asked.

Alya nodded into his shirt.

"Tell me." He murmured. He adjusted her in his arms and rubbed her back soothingly. Alya wiped her eyes.

"Adrien was the kidnapper. He pushed a fake body out of his window – I'm not sure how it passed as real, but I almost don't want to know. He and Marinette planned the entire kidnapping and were emailing each other thirty minutes before they staged it. The car was a rental. I- I need to find it." Alya reached toward her computer. Her fingertips felt numb. Since all the rental companies were still closed, she took a chance and went back to her public-domain file finder again. Nino watched over her shoulder as within minutes, she found a record that matched perfectly.

"White, four-door, tinted Chevrolet hatchback taken out on the same day Marinette was kidnapped. The name was Bryce Papenbrook. In Paris for a quick vacation. According to this court record, he came in the next day and explained that the car had been totaled in an off-road accident. He agreed to pay for the car in full and produced the entire cost – €16,919 - in cash, upfront. The company didn't press charges and only filed a record to explain why one car had been blacked out from the records. They also asked him to please refrain from renting in the future." Alya summarized as she read.

Nino grunted. "So, if Adrien took out €40,000 and the car was €16,919-"

"Plus initial renting charge of about thirty-five euros." Alya interrupted.

"Right." Nino agreed. "That's like, twenty-four thousand left."

"And they're renting a house." Alya flipped back to the emails. "See? And it's a large house too. They've got a great rate on it too. A house like that…" Alya thought. "Well, it depends on where they are. In a smaller town, maybe four-hundred euros is a reasonable amount, but in Paris... She trailed off. "I wonder if Adrien kept using that name?"

She cleared her public records finder and took thirty extra seconds to also clear her cookies so that the website wouldn't give her biased reports. Then she entered the name Bryce Papenbrook. A slew of records came up. Bryce shared the same birthday as Adrien but was three years older. He was married to a woman named Christina whose maiden name was Vee. Coincidentally, Christina shared the same birthday as Marinette, but was also three years older. They had a house together at 830 Whitebreak Road in Winebrook(Pronounced Vine-brook.).

Alya looked at the housing record a little closer. It was a large house with two stories plus a basement, open-concept kitchen, four baths and seven-bed. It matched what Chat had described to Ladybug with extra details. And to top it all off, they'd had it for ten years as of six days ago.

Nino opened his phone while Alya stared numbly at her screen. He opened Facebook and searched for Bryce Papenbrook. Third down on the list of related people was a picture of Marinette and Adrien sitting on the ground together, dressed in shades of black and dark red. Adrien had a smile that was more Chat than Adrien, and Marinette smiled sweetly like she had a secret no one could guess as she leaned into Adrien's touch. They were older, meaning it was more recent than their kidnappings. Nino nudged Alya to show her.

The cover photo was another one of Marinette and Adrien, and the rest of the account was private. But it was under the name Bryce Papenbrook, which confirmed everything they needed to know.

Alya went back to the settings of Chat Noir's email. She hadn't noticed it before, but the primary recovery email was set to . A teacher's email. Alya examined the phone number attached to the account and grabbed her phone.

"You're not really going to call him, are you?" Nino asked.

Alya cleared her throat two or three times in answer. She pursed her lips and then stretched them as wide as she could. Nino had to resist the urge to laugh. Then, Alya glanced at the clock. It was almost six. With any luck, Brye would be asleep. She dialed the number and put it on speaker at least three feet from her. No one picked up, so she dialed again. This happened twice more before the receiving end clicked.

"Mhello?" Someone groaned on the other end through a yawn.

"Hello this is Frances DoGood and I'd like to schedule a flight for thirteen-o'clock?" Alya said in a high-pitched voice. She kept her lips poised like she was whistling, not speaking. She sounded like an old lady.

"Mmph. What?" The voice on the other end was distorted through fabric noises and the general sounds of someone very sleepy.

"I need a flight from Versailles to Brussels at thirteen-o'clock." Alya repeated in her funny voice.

"Lady, this isn't the airport."

"This isn't Orlay?" Alya acted innocent.

"I think you mean Orly. No, I'm… Bryce Papenbrook. Not the airport. I can… find you the right number if you want?" It was clear that he really, really wanted to go back to sleep. Nino felt bad for the poor guy.

"Oh, no thank you. I think my phone can tell me. Sorry to bug you." Alya smiled wickedly. Nino almost laughed.

"No problem." If the action of rolling your eyes could be expressed in a sound, that was what came through the speaker. Nino bit his lip. A colossal yawn followed. "Goodbye."

"Bye!" Alya hung up. Nino burst into laughter, which filled their whole apartment and almost made up for the sadness of Alya's breakdown. Alya tapped her fingers on her laptop to let out some loose energy.

"That was Adrien." She said after Nino calmed down. "Could you hear him?"

Nino nodded. "It sure sounded like him."

"That means now I have his phone number, his email, and his address." Alya schemed as she closed all the tabs open on her screen and opened a blank google.

"And to think he was dead four days ago," Nino mumbled. "I just heard my best bud's voice for the first time in ten years."

"I know. Crazy, right?" Alya mumbled.

Nino looked at the screen she was on as she typed. He sat up straight. "What are you doing?" He demanded.

The screen showed the Paris Metro out of the city. Alya was booking a ride to Winebrook. She shrugged at Nino's expression.

"Adrien and Marinette ditched us without a word, so they'll have to deal with me dropping in unannounced to ask a few questions," Alya said.

"Us." Nino corrected.

Alya smiled and upped the passenger count to two. "Us." She confirmed. Once booked, she shut the laptop.

"Should we mention this to anyone?" Nino asked as she stood up and walked to the bedroom. "Marinette's parents, Chloe, Mr. Agreste?" He trailed off.

Alya pulled off her pajama top and began rifling through her wardrobe for a shirt. "I'll send Queen Bee a message through André Bourgeois's hotel management that she'll have to manage Paris for two or so days, and I'll tip off Marinette's parents and extend an invitation for them to tag along. As for Gabriel Agreste…" Alya made a disgusted face. "If you want to be the one to call him and say his son is alive, be my guest."

Nino held up his hands in surrender. "No thanks, hun. I'm not opening that can of worms. Guess Gabriel Agreste ain't getting told."

Alya smirked. "I guess not."

______________________________________________________________

After a three-hour subway ride, Alya, Nino, Tom, and Sabine stepped off with luggage in tow onto the smallest station Alya had ever seen. Winebrook had a population of barely five-hundred. There was one elementary, and one dual high school/junior high building. One hometown market store, one police station, no visitor center and two playground/park areas. There were no asphalt roads. On the bright side, it was one of the cleanest, prettiest towns Alya had ever seen. She had brought along her personal DSLR to take photos, and got shots many of the pretty, dated homes along the streets. Children ran in the road and many people stopped to ask who they were. Alya got the sense they were a close-knit community where everyone knew everyone.

They wandered up and down the roads for about ten minutes, but the town didn't seem to have an in-order numbering system. Finally, Nino stopped at a house where children's shoes were strewn across the porch to ask for directions to the Papenbrook's home. A preteen with unwashed hair and cowgirl boots led the way at her mother's request. Two kids, aged seven and four, followed her as she took them to the very last road in town. It was about a ten-minute walk from the subway station. The girl asked them all their names, where they were from, and what they did as small talk. When Alya mentioned she was a reporter, the girl scrunched her eyes up.

"Are you reporting on Christina's dresses?" She asked.

Alya shook her head, a little confused. The girl shrugged. "Christina designs dresses. Apparently, she's in with Gabriel Agreste and he does the advertising for some of her designs. She does prom dresses for some of the girls in town."

Nino choked a little. The girl studied him. He straightened up under her gaze. Finally, she looked back at Tom and Sabine. "You say you're bakers?" She asked. "Christina can bake really well. She always donates cakes and cupcakes to the school bake sell. Mom commissioned her to make my birthday cake last year."

Alya kept her mouth shut. Designing and baking… sounded like Marinette had included herself into the community.

Their new friend took them to the very last house on the very last road in town. The houses here were newer or remodeled.

The house she left them at had tan stucco with dark brown shingles and white trim. The windows were rectangular, and the door was made of stained wood. There was a sidewalk path leading up to the porch and a gravel driveway. The house had a large, grassy yard with rose bushes under the windows and a large tree growing about ten feet from the house. A rope swing and a treehouse were supported by the tree's large branches. A group of kids was playing in the yard with Nerf Guns, Barbies, and Lincoln Logs. The oldest kids were around ten, and the youngest around two. At least fifteen kids were hanging out at the Papenbrook house.

The kids looked up when Nino opened the white gate but overall ignored them. They continued with their game, giving a few curious looks but asking no questions. The four adults wheeled their suitcases up to the door. Alya pressed the buzzer and then fidgeted as they waited for the door to open.

There were footsteps behind the door, and a woman nearing middle-age with a head full of black, wavy hair opened the door. Marinette was looking over her shoulder as a complaining toddler followed her toward the door. Alya inhaled sharply.

Marinette looked at her guests and her welcoming smile dropped off her face. "Alya?" She asked. The years melted away, and suddenly Alya felt like the nineteen-year-old girl who'd gotten off a FaceTime call with her best friend after the boy in their class committed suicide. She hiccupped and reached out for a hug without a single word.

[lavender-lizzy]

Tag English and Italian

RULES: Answer the following 20 questions and then tag 20 (or however many) people you’d like!

I was tagged by @cross-the-world-ocean

In honour of “Speak your language day” I am also answering in my language: Italian!

Hogwarts house: Gryffindor

Grifondoro

Last thing I googled: The weather forecast. Yes, I am boring!

Le previsioni meteo. Sì, sono noiosa!

Fav music genres: I think I am more into songs than into genres… I like pop and rock music, movie and tv shows soundtracks, classical music. Some musicals. Eurovision, if that’s a subgenre.

 Credo di basarmi più sulle canzoni che non sui generi… Mi piacciono la musica pop e rock, le colonne sonore di film e serie tv, la musica classica. Alcuni musical. L’Eurovision, se conta come sottogenere.

 Last song I listened to:  On fire (acoustic) by Loic Nottet. 

Amount of sleep: I need at least 8 hours to function. That does not mean I always sleep 8 hours though…

Ho bisogno di almeno otto ore per funzionare. Il che non significa che io dorma sempre otto ore, però…

 Dream trip(s): the UK, Ireland, New Zealand.

Il Regno Unito, l’Irlanda, la Nuova Zelanda.

Fav car: I don’t like cars, I don’t have a favourite. 

Non mi piacciono le macchine, non ne ho una preferita.

 Fav food: So many… Lasagne are amazing.

Tantissimi… le lasagne sono meravigliose.

 Fav languages: English and French.

Inglese e francese.

 What languages do you want to learn: I wish I could learn some Nordic languages, like Icelandic, Swedish, Danish… or, changing area, Russian. But it’s super hard to learn new languages on your own (I speak from the perspective of somebody who studied languages at school and university).  

Vorrei poter imparare alcune lingue nordiche, come l’islandese, lo svedese, il danese… o, cambiando zona, il russo. Ma è molto difficile imparare nuove lingue da soli (parlo dalla prospettiva di qualcuno che ha studiato lingue a scuola e all’università).

Do you believe in aliens: In some form of alien life. I don’t believe in aliens as they are stereotypically portrayed.

In qualche forma di vita aliena. Non credo agli alieni come vengono rappresentati secondo lo stereotipo.

Perfect weather: Sunny and pretty warm, but not hot (humid hot summers are hell), a little bit chilly in the morning and in the evening and lovely during the day. Does this make any sense? It also depends from my mood.

Soleggiato e piuttosto caldino, ma non tanto caldo (le estati calde e umide sono infernali), un po’ freddino al mattino e alla sera e piacevole durante il giorno. Ha qualche senso quello che dico? Dipende anche dall’umore.

Who was your first crush: Fictional characters in animated films/shows. Like Prince Philip from Sleeping Beauty, the Beast/Prince from Beauty and the Beast, André from Lady Oscar/ The Rose of Versailles/Berusaiyu no bara.

Personaggi di finzione nei cartoni. Come il Principe Filippo de La Bella Addormentata nel Bosco, la Bestia/Principe de La Bella e La Bestia, André di Lady Oscar.

Celebrity crush: How much time have you got? Way too many! 

Quanto tempo avete? Troppe!

 Do you like roller coasters: No!

What book has impacted you the most: Harry Potter definitely, but also The Lord of The Rings/The Hobbit. Jane Austen’s novels, Jane Eyre…

Decisamente Harry Potter, ma anche Il Signore degli Anelli/Lo Hobbit. I romanzi di Jane Austen, Jane Eyre.

Do you have any regrets, if so, what are they: I do, but I can’t go back to the past and change what happened so…

Sì, ma non posso tornare nel passato e cambiare ciò che è successo quindi…

 If you won 10,000 dollars, what would you do first: Change them into euros I guess! Jokes aside, I don’t even know. Save them?

Li cambierei in euro credo! Scherzi a parte, non lo so proprio. Risparmiarli?

Where do you want to be living in 10-15 years: I don’t care about where, I mostly care about how… I’d like to be happy. 

Non mi interessa dove, mi importa più del come… vorrei essere felice. What’s one thing most people don’t know about you: As a kid I used to make up ridiculous songs that I still remember to this day. One of them was called “Why not me, why her”, and it was not romantic at all. The next lines were: “why them, why not us” and then “why dogs, why not cats”.

 Da bambina mi inventavo canzoni ridicole che mi ricordo ancora. Una si chiamava ‘perché no io, perché sì lei” e non aveva nulla di romantico. Le frasi seguenti erano: “perché sì loro, perché no noi” e poi “perché sì cani, perché no gatti”.

[bradshawfrost36-blog]

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[nerdiests]

So I’m participating in Kaminari Appreciation week, and. Yeah. 

Check it out on ao3!

prompt: past/present/future

It’d been a long while since Denki had the opportunity to visit his hometown. Considering his full schedule with heroics, he didn’t have much of a reason to take a flight over to Houston, Texas, for sentimental reasons. He’d told himself, however, that he would try and visit again before he turned twenty five and see what had changed. So here he was, walking out of George Bush Intercontinental with a messenger bag on his shoulder and a suitcase in hand. For a moment, he paused. All he could hear around him was English, a sound he’d missed back in Japan. Even though he’d lived in Japan for the past twelve years, Denki still found himself more comfortable speaking in English.

“C’mon, Denki, we’ve got a hotel to get to,” Denki muttered to himself, tightening his grip on his suitcase and heading towards the car rental so he could drive to the Marriott he’d booked for the duration of his stay. He’d stayed at this particular hotel before his family had moved back to Japan. It was thrilling, he’d get to order room service again, and he could have orange juice in a wine glass!! Ohhhhh, Iida would be jealous!

The hotel was wonderful, the food was even better, and Denki was ready to go around and check out all his old haunts. Like the Houston Natural Science Museum, and the Downtown Aquarium, and the Memorial City Mall with the Cheesecake Factory. He made a lot of money as a pro hero, and he was going to use it! ...Plus he wanted to have some souvenirs from Houston back in Japan he could show his friends - specifically Hanta, Mina, and Eijirou - once he went back.

It was probably a good idea that Denki hadn’t gone during spring break, because he wouldn’t have been able to visit any places he’d enjoyed in his childhood. Even the ones he’d checked out were slightly different. Denki couldn’t ride the ferris wheel because it was getting fixed and the white tiger was gone, the meteorology exhibit at the museum had been taken down, and the mall layout had changed! Along with those changes, he couldn’t even remember his old neighborhood and couldn’t go and visit and see how it had changed in twelve years, and he couldn’t ask his parents about it either. At least he could go and check out the Baskin Robbins he used to go to with his parents when they still lived there! Hopefully.

The Baskin Robbins was gone. Treasured and cherished childhood memories were also gone. How wonderful. This trip was going absolutely swimmingly. He’d spent two hours in traffic getting out here, because he remembered this place’s existence at 4:39 in the afternoon and everyone was getting off work. It was a surprise he’d remembered how to get here without a GPS. But the Baskin Robbins was no more, and all remained was a crafts store. Denki might know how to knit, but saying he made a sweater because he couldn’t remember his old neighborhood was so lame!!

“Oh you’ve gotta be shitting me. Denki Kaminari?” Denki whirled around at his name and was met with a slightly familiar face.

“Wait wait wait… Madeline Versailles? You still live here?” Denki blinked at the sight of his old childhood… Rival? Is that even the right word? They’d just tried to do better than the other in school, so rival was fitting, he guessed.

“Yeah, went to college at U of H. What’re you doing back here? Thought you’d moved to Japan to stay twelve years ago,” Madeline replied, shifting her shopping bag from one hand to the other. Denki shrugged.

“Decided that I’d come back before I turned 25, and being a pro hero makes a ton of money, not at all surprisingly,” Denki said, putting his hands in his hoodie pockets. Madeline raised an eyebrow.

“So you did go on to pro heroics, then? It’s probably a lot easier in Japan, yeah?” she asked. Denki nodded, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He turned it so the phone case was facing Madeline.

“Dunno if you’ve heard of the Stun Gun hero Chargebolt, but that’s me,” Denki said, slipping his phone back into his hoodie pocket. Madeline paused, before walking over to Denki quickly.

“No shit, really? My fiancée loves Japanese heroes, and her favorites are Cellophane, Red Riot, Suneater, and Chargebolt! Hanako’s always talking about when she could interact with heroes on the street back in Japan when she still lived with her mom, and she kept up with Japanese heroics once she moved in with her dad,” Madeline replied, pulling her phone out. Denki noticed the familiar pattern on the phone case.

“I’m more partial to Earphone Jack,” Madeline said, small smile on her face. Denki grinned.

“Well, I happen to know Cellophane, Red Riot, and Earphone Jack. Plus Red Riot knows Suneater, has since first year of high school, so I could… Hook you up?” Denki said, tilting his head sideways. Never let it be said that Denki wasn’t a generous man.

“Oh my god that’d be a literal blessing,” Madeline grinned, tapping something on her phone and handing it to Denki.

“I’ve been trying to get a good anniversary present for Hanako for our three year anniversary next month, but this would take the cake,” Madeline explained. Denki looked down and saw a contact open. He blinked, before giving Madeline a look.

“I trust you won’t give this number out to anyone? This is my personal number and it’d be fairly difficult to get it replaced again,” Denki said. Madeline nodded, and Denki plugged his number in.

“You’ve got an international plan, yeah?” Denki asked, getting another nod. Then Madeline tapped something else in, before putting it up. Denki felt his phone buzz, but left it alone.

“So, how long’re you in Houston?” Madeline asked, and Denki shrugged.

“I was planning on two weeks, since that’s how long I booked my hotel stay for and my plane tickets are scheduled for the same day I’m checking out of my hotel, so. Enough time that I’ll suffer when I head back over,” Denki replied. Madeline chuckled, before looking at the crafts store.

“If you ever need something to fill your time with, Hanako and I are typically free most days. Except Tuesday afternoons and Saturday evenings. Tuesday is couples ballroom dancing and Saturday is my cooking class and Hanako’s book club. So any days that aren’t those,” Madeline said, and Denki shrugged.

“I’m about 45 minutes away with minimal traffic, so I’d be down,” Denki said. Madeline grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Brilliant!! You free tomorrow? Hanako wanted to head down to the zoo,” Madeline replied. Denki nodded.

“Don’t have any plans, though I am gonna go on one of the exclusive tours at Johnson and check out the Astros game next week. Can probably grab some extra tickets if y’all’d want to join me at the Astros game? Fun is always better with company, after all,” Denki said. Madeline waved a hand.

“Nah, Hanako’s dad has a box. Some of the best seats in the house. We can probably get you in there, if you’d want?” Madeline offered. Denki paused for a moment.

“If you’re gonna get me into some of the “best seats in the house” then let me get those zoo tickets tomorrow. It’s only fair,” Denki replied. Madeline opened her mouth, but closed it shortly after. She looked pensive for a moment.

“It’s only fair,” she replied. Denki nodded, before glancing over his shoulder at the crafts store.

“You know what? I’ve got yarn to buy and a sweater to knit,” Denki said, turning around.

“Text me later with what time you and Hanako are planning on going to the zoo, and I’ll meet y’all there,” Denki said, waving over his shoulder as he walked inside. He had a plan for this sweater.

The rest of Denki’s trip was absolutely phenomenal. The zoo was wonderful, though he couldn’t look at the meerkat exhibit as he once had. He saw the Johnson Space Center through new eyes, and had a bird’s eye view of an Astros game for the first time in his life. Not only that, but he got a new perspective on his “rivalry” with Madeline. Apparently the both of them had made botched attempts at being friends with the other. Good thing they cleared that up, because apparently the two of them got on like a house on fire.

Madeline and Hanako had decided to see him off at the airport, since that was what friends did. He knew that was what friends did, since half of 1-A did when he took his plane flight over here in the first place. At least it was a direct flight back to Japan, he could nap the whole way over. Or work on his sweater, he was almost done. Plane rides were the perfect opportunity to work on knitting. Plus he could finish that custom hat he was making for Kyouka… Yeah, he’d probably do some knitting too.

“You keep in contact, now,” Madeline said, slight grin on her face. Denki nodded, grip on his suitcase tightening slightly. Hanako smiled as well.

“It was a pleasure getting to meet you, Kaminari-san,” Hanako said happily, and Denki sighed.

“Hanako, how many times have I said this? You can call me Denki, it’s fine,” Denki replied, with a somewhat joking tone. Hanako giggled, slightly nervous.

“I’m sorry Kaaaaaaaaa… Denki. It’s. A bit hard to call a hero you’ve looked up to by their first name so suddenly,” Hanako said, fiddling with the hem of her dress. Denki grinned, reaching over and patting her on the shoulder.

“Really, Hanako, it’s fine,” he said, before looking back at Madeline.

“Expect those things I’m getting you in a few weeks,” Denki said. Madeline nodded, while Hanako looked confused.

“What things? Madeline, Denki, what are you two conspiring over?” Hanako asked, looking between the two. Madeline only grinned, while Denki pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. He blinked when he saw the time, processing for a moment.

“Oh hell I’ve gotta go through customs, I’ll talk with y’all later!!” Denki said, rushing off towards customs.

“Bye Denki!” Madeline called, and Denki glanced over his shoulder to spot both Madeline and Hanako waving. Denki only grinned and waved back, before continuing the walk to customs. That’d be a hassle and a half to go through.

[unabashedfestivalfan]

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