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bahrtofane · 2 months

Text

here we go again - pt.2

pt.1, pt.3

jude x fem!reader , trent x fem!reader

empty promise after another leaves you walking in the cold. alone. on valentines day. youre never speaking to another player again. but, a familair face is here to save the day

word count - 2.2k+

watch it - jude is still an ass sorrehhh. angsy angst and more angst ! ur welcome

-----

You don't know where the hell you are, what time it is. A few more minutes you're going to forget your own name and start screaming to feel something other than misery. So much for the holiday of love. You are feeling so much love you could jump out of a plane. With no parachute. And land on a pile of rocks.

You kick a trash can out of frustration and groan at the impact it gives your poor exposed and suffering toes.

You can not believe the events of today. Everything keeps replaying over and over like a broken projector. The fact that he got you to dress up in your favorite special occasion floor length dress just to have it drag across the grimy dirty fucking disgusting club floor. Oh god you want him dead.

You're deep into Birmingham nightlife by the time your senses come back to you enough to fish your phone out of your bag. The bag is a birthday gift from your mother of all people forced to be seen among that bunch of people,it makes you seeth.

You should have known taking you to Birmingham wasn't a good idea. It made no sense in your head, why fly from Madrid to god damn Birmingham. You both live and work in Madrid? Your sweet naive mind thought he came up with something unique, something sweet.

You groan the second your phone turns on. One too many notifications to keep up with and by the looks of it they aren't stopping anytime soon. Twitter is blowing up, you already know what it is. A bunch of low quality pixels of you entering with him and looking lost with a bunch of tacky headlines. You'll get that settled when you get home. You go to order an uber, but your phone manages to die on you miraculously. How lucky. All the times you spent trying to get a hold of Jude really drained the battery. You clench your jaw.

Good god. You shove your phone back in your purse and keep stomping through birmingham. Shivering with each step. You didn't bring a jacket, how foolish.

You try to follow streets you think you know, but it's not going very well. There aren't very many people this far out. Leave it to fucking Jude to take you to the worlds more obscure club location. It's been about an hour since you left him at the club you think. An hour of walking through alley ways and neighborhoods that only raise the hair on the back of your neck. He couldn't even get you a ride home?

You think the last person you saw was a nurse chucking coffee at a bus station, the bus that you tried to catch but it sped away faster than your aching legs could take you. Better night than yours you're sure. You wander about trying to find at least a store open to be able to call for a taxi.

You hear the crunch of slowing tires come up behind you, and you instantly quicken up your pace. You almost swear you hear your name shouted, but you don't stop. The second time, it's a little too clear to be mistaken for anyone else's name as the car comes to a crawl side by side to you.

You turn on your heel harshly, “why in god's name-“ your voice dies the moment you recognize the familiar car model, and its driver. Trent. Oh.

“Get in the car." he dead pans, windows rolled at the way down, door already unlocked for you.

You wrinkle your nose, “I don't want to talk trent."

The very last thing you need is that sorry excuse of a man to send his friend of all people to run after you and do his bidding where he fell short just hours before. This is so embarrassing it only makes you wish his car would explode. And then drive it into the club. While it's on fire.

“I'm not letting you roam around these parts at this time, just get in." he sighs.

You scowl, "he’s low for sending you to change my mind, after this whole fucking night why cant you leave me alone."

He gives you a look, “this has nothing to do with him, this is me. Worried for you. “

“Fuck off." you spit.

“You’re so hard headed, just get in the damn car before someone robs you. Or worse."

"How'd you even know I was here?" you squint at him.

he sighs, rubbing his eyes, "i still have your location from when i picked you up for his birthday. And I heard about everything from just about everyone. "

"You have nothing else to do on valentines day?" you jab.

He stays silent, hands wringing the steering wheel. You notice he's in what looks like pjs, Liverpool jacket thrown on top. He drove all this way for you?

You swallow your pride for a moment, hiking up your dress while you duck inside the car. Sighing in relief as the pressure is taken off your aching legs. Snapping your seatbelt over you, swinging your purse over your head and gently setting it on your lap, wiping away the tears that blur your vision.

Your rage has turned into a simmer for now. The main goal at the moment is to just get out of these clothes and sleep till you forget what year it is.

Trent is quiet while he lets you get comfortable, rolling up his windows backup and locking the doors. You've never sat passenger in his car before. Hell you haven't seen him in months.

“Did he touch you." he asks, turning the heater on higher.

You put your hand out in front of where the hot air blows oh so nice on your frozen hands,“What?”

“You have a bruise on the back of your arm. Did he do that? “

“No.” you sigh.

he turns to face you, brows furrowed,“i need to know if he did. “

“He didn’t trent, i'm alright.'' your voice softens.

he nods, hands resting on the wheel,“where do you need to go? “

“Just take me to my hotel please."

He nods, handing you his phones to put the directions in. You watch as he takes the car out of park, making a u turn and heading out of whatever bizarre neighborhood you're in, back into the city. And soon the freeway. Birmingham flashes by you and you try to forget the man that sits like a heavy weight in your mind.

You still wonder why Trent would make the trip all the way out just to pick you up. especially if Jude wasn't involved. You're somewhat close you suppose. The kind where you would call him a friend in a group setting, but not much more. You've spent only a couple of times truly alone. You don't know if you're that close.

Trent has always been somewhat of a mystery to you. Few appearances and even fewer words. Jude had told you once he was shy, just taking a minute to warm up to new people. He has a habit of staring off into nothing you noticed at Judes birthday party. Always quick to snap out of it the moment eyes were on him. Oh so different from the way he plays. You've seen him now and again in highlights and clips posted on instagram. He's good, but man is he aggressive. You expect it for a defender but the man gets up in everyones space on the pitch.

A complete 180 from the way he can barely look you in the eye now. What is he thinking?

You don't let your curiosity blind you from being at least a little courteous.

“Thank you, " you mumble, playing with the fabric of your dress, "and sorry for being a bitch.“

“Hey I don’t blame you.” he shrugs.

You hum and leave it at that. You'll put unraveling Trent on the to do list.

Your hotel comes into view and you thank him again for the kindness, promising to make it up to him some day. He waves you off, seeing till you're inside to leave.

Your mind is so blurred you can barely stand anymore, every step only throws you off balance. You need your bed. Asap. Or you will fall over and die.

The hotel's heating is a welcome treat as you beeline for the elevator. The staff give you a strange look but you do NOT. have the time for any of that. Right now all you care about is getting in bed. Can this elevator hurry up? It finally comes and you lean against the metal walls when you step inside, sliding your purse lazily over you.

You all but tear your clothes off the second you make it inside your room, in a rush, wiping your makeup off while you undo your shoes, hobbling around with one foot while you dig for your pajamas. You end the night with a trip to the bathroom. Skipping on your usual night routine and just settling for a quick shower and brush of the teeth.

Hotel covers have never felt better, warmer, safer.

In the quiet of the room and the hum of the ac, you can't but let your thoughts consume you. Can't help but circle back to him. Why?

Why weren't you enough? Why did it have to end in fucking flames on whats supposed to be the most romantic love filled day of the year.

You think back of every moment and piece of you shared with Jude. You remember the first time you kissed you, under the stands at his first madrid home game, clutching onto his jersey like a lifeline. He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. Gently holding your hand all the way back inside the building. Mumbling confessions and making you smile with every cheesy pick up line.

That jude is gone now, instead replaced by the man who you have to fight for even a second with. But are expected to drop all for. A selfish bitter man.

It doesn't matter anymore. It's over, you can rest now and deal with the inevitable fall out as it comes. You know you're more than enough, but with the way you let yourself be treated it's hard to let yourself believe that.

Never again though. From now, you're swearing off footballers.

—--

You wake up as early as you can manage, getting all your things together and booking a flight out of here as soon as possible. You need to get back to madrid.

Your headache is massive as you shove the last of your things in your suitcase. You can't believe you took days off for this. Nonetheless, you need to get back. You have a team to get back to and plenty of work to get done. Real Madrid's creative department never rests does it.

Your phone has a slew of missed calls, mainly from Jude but you see a few from Trent, rather recent ones. You give him a call back but it all goes to voicemail.

The key card jams while you're locking it for the last time, it takes a hit from your hand to get the scanner working but you make it out in one piece. Smoothing your clothes down and making your way to the lobby. Sitting down for a few minutes while you confirm your flight details and triple check that you haven't forgotten anything. You hear your name and are greeted again by Trent, who's all but spriting to you. It's a little early for him to be here now isn't it.

“Can I help you ?”

“I'm sorry I tried calling and I couldn't answer when you called. Judes outside waiting for you. he-“

So last night really was all just a ploy from Judes end? You try to get up and far far away from him, but he stands in front of you.

“Listen. He told me to come and get you out there so you can talk to him and to not tell you. But obviously, I'm not. i’ll tell him you're not here yeah? Take care.”

Trent doesn't leave you with anything else, leaving in the other direction. You take this as a sign to leave while you can, grabbing one of the many taxis outside to the airport.

—--

Trent gives Jude a scowl, “She's not there Jude, give it up. “

“I can't just lose her. “ Jude sighs, furiously typing on his phone.

Trent rolls his yees, patience wearing thin,“You’re fucked in the head you know that? After all you’ve done to her, you still want her to come running back?”

Silence.

“I care about you Jude I really do. But you left her walking around at 3 am with a dead phone in the middle of alleyways dude. That's not okay. “

—--

The airport has never felt lonelier, but you swallow the lump in your throat, boarding your flight home and trying to forget the man that you've come to associate it with. Madrid will be a hard place to move on in, when its walls shine with its star boy. Its halls all but cheering his name. Every corner you're bound to be reminded of him. You can do it, one way or another you won't let yourself be miserable.

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redclercs · 10 months

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DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

xi.it’s okay we’re the best of friends

— the one where all you do is think about the feelings that you hide.

warnings: guys, my brain was failing during this so not really proofread, also please pretend the dress is the same in both pics lol, alcohol consumption. 2.5k words.

currently playing: drive by halsey!

masterlist ✢ next

Liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, mati.bassi, tchalamet and others.

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softyn FIRST POST SINCE MAY AND MOTHER WANTS US DEAD

ynstars I LOVE YOU SO MUCH SLAY

aid4anfeels ugly bitch

lecsainz516 whose wedding is this, charles and carlos were there too

formulayn did @/charles_leclerc take these?

liked by charles_leclerc

THE COMMENTS FOR THIS POST ARE LIMITED.

August 5th, Madrid, Spain.

WHEN Charles said you needed to make new memories in Spain to replace the bad ones, you didn’t have a wedding in mind. However, with the rollercoaster that is your life as of lately, you don’t swim against the current anymore. Just going with it is not a bad way to live when you’re still trying to reach the surface and get away from the wreckage.

Things aren’t good. Not yet. The press is still having a field day with all that he said, she said merry go round. Aidan and Victoria are fighting to play the victim and Mia Kim is on a mission to paint you as the worst sister-in-law who could have ever existed. Which, to be fair, paints her in a weird Freudian light.

But things are better than they were the last time you were in Spain. And that’s something to be grateful for.

“Are you sure?” You asked Charles on FaceTime for the third time that night two weeks ago, he had just asked you to be his plus one to one of his Ferrari mates’ wedding. “Are you a hundred percent sure they won’t mind?”

The last thing you wanted was to feel like an intruder, and with the type of attention you carry around like a dark cloud over your head, ruining someone’s special day was not an experience you wanted to add to your repertoire.

“Of course they won’t mind, soleil.” Charles assured, he was still in Hungary after the Grand Prix. “Tommaso told me I could bring anyone, and I want to bring you.”

The last time you saw Charles in person was in New York City, almost two months ago. It doesn't mean, of course, that you stopped communicating. Whenever Charles is on his phone, you can be certain you'll receive a text, a picture or a random iMessage drawing. You handle time zones as best you can without sacrificing too much sleep time, especially for the one who has to drive a car at 300 km/hr.

Although he insisted on you coming to any Grand Prix of your choice, you thought it best to stay away from the paddock for a while. Plus, you had some work to do. You didn't love Talk Shows while promoting, most hosts did horrible, unfunny jokes, and you were the butt of a lot of them, but if being in some of them helped you to speak about your situation and dismiss whatever rumor Victoria, Aidan or Mia (or just about half the internet) had going on, you were willing to make the sacrifice.

You were also willing to attend a complete stranger's wedding just to see Charles again, but you didn't want to give that thought the depth it demanded from you. Not in the seven hour flight from New York to Madrid, and not now, as you're getting ready for Charles to pick you up to go to the wedding.

Your blue dress is frankly magnificent, and you are aware of how good you look, but it doesn't hurt that the first thing Charles does when the doors to the lift open, is compliment you. Well, to be fair, the first thing he does is gather his thoughts and try not to feel stupid after basically picking his jaw up from the floor.

"You look gorgeous," Charles says, clearing his throat. His sudden anxiety makes you chuckle, as his Adam's apple bobs up his neck. "I missed you so much, soleil."

You are mildly disappointed when he doesn't hug you the way he did back in New York, and you dismiss the feeling almost as quickly as it appeared. Although his words linger in the air, he missed you, and you did too.

"I don't want to ruin your hair," he explains, as if he's read your mind, and smiles wider.

"Right," you shake your head, it was obvious. "You look pretty good yourself, Charlie," you add, always trying to return the compliment, and only managing to make it awkward.

There is something about men in suits that makes them twice as attractive, and it's unfair when it comes to someone like Charles, who is already way too handsome as it is.

"Thank you," Charles is always nice enough to accept your half-assed, anxiety induced compliments. "Shall we?"

You nod, and when he offers his arm to lead you to the car, you link yours through it taking a breath so deep, it makes your lungs ache.

"Do you like weddings?" Charles asks as the engine of his car roars to life. A red Ferrari is the only way you manage to describe it, afraid of getting details wrong. Although you're certain Charles would patiently explain anything you needed to know about it, you don't ask.

"Everyone likes weddings," you reply, setting both hands on top of your knees. "Right?"

Charles chuckles and shrugs, "I guess so,"

You love weddings, except when you're expected to be the bride.

"Charles," you pat his shoulder and he takes his eyes off the road for the briefest second. "Are you completely sure the bride doesn't mind my presence?"

You don't want to give yourself some sort of importance you don't deserve—the bride has more important things to worry about—but particularly nervous about how your presence will be received at the celebration.

"Seriously, y/n," Charles soothes, his right hand leaves the steering wheel and searches for your own blindly, accidentally landing on your empty lap. He takes his hand back immediately, red creeping up his neck. "It's fine." he resolves, his sight way too focused on the road now.

"Alright," you whisper, smoothing the skirt of your dress. "Alright."

Both of you remain silent the rest of the way as you take in the Spanish landscape and Charles drives like his life depends on it. You promised yourself you'd ask for as much information on the happy couple as you could, but your voice is lost in the pit that opened in your stomach.

And the evening is just beginning.

It's after the ceremony, at cocktail hour that you find everything out about Tommaso and Bárbara thanks to none other than Carlos Sainz, who seems to really have a thing for gossip and also, for making fun of you for crying during the vows.

"Leave me alone, Carlos," you warn for the last time, this time threatening him with your closed fist. "Not my fault you don't have a heart in that big-ass chest."

This makes him laugh harder, and even Charles chuckles against the lip of his whiskey glass.

"I miss you so much around the paddock, y/n!" Carlos sighs, patting the place above his heart. "For real."

You click your tongue. "Sure you do,"

Carlos and you talk a lot less than Charles and you do, of course. But if Charles calls you during whatever free time he has while in the Ferrari Suite, you can trust Carlos to insert himself in the conversation.

"And a lot of the other drivers do too," Carlos' tone is mocking again, and you glower at him.

"Stop picking on me," this time you punch him on the shoulder.

"I'm being serious. Lando has a crush on you,"

You talked to Lando a few times, mostly when he and Carlos were being boys and hitting each other in the balls outside the Ferrari Suite and Lando made small talk as he tried not to touch his private parts. A crush is an exaggeration, Lando just told you he thought you were cool for making movies.

"Why don't we take some pictures?" Charles suggests before downing the rest of his whiskey. You don't miss the look he gives Carlos.

"Why not?" you smile at Charles, shrugging. The place is beautiful and you would love to have a memory of this whole thing that you can go back to.

"I'll catch up with you guys," Carlos calls as you two walk away, uninterested in the impromptu photoshoot.

Charles directs an annoyed look at him again and then makes it go away to return his attention to you.

"What was that?" you ask, taking Charles' arm again for him to lead you to where the rest of the guests are more scattered and won't photobomb your pictures.

"What was what?" Charles lifts an eyebrow, forever the expert at playing dumb. Or, not really.

You shake your head, this is another deep thought you don't want to venture into. There is enough of this weird tension already, and you're not sure if Charles feels it too.

─────────

"Your girlfriend is beautiful," a lady is patting your hand, a gentle smile on her face as she looks at Charles. She's the spouse of another Ferrari team member, and the first thing she did was compliment your dress before even asking for your name.

"Oh, I'm not—"

"We're just friends," Charles clears up, gentle as well. "But y/n really is beautiful."

The woman raises both eyebrows and laughs, an 'oh you kids' snicker that isn't unkind. "Of course, of course."

It's the first time of many during this party that Charles has to say you're not in a relationship, and it seems to get easier every time the words come out of his mouth.

Although it's true, you're not sure why it nags at you.

You cry again during the couple's First Dance and verbally threaten Carlos to leave you alone as you wipe your tears carefully, doing your best to keep your makeup intact. He laughs, but takes your threat seriously and remains quiet. This whole Tom and Jerry thing is amusing but he doesn't want to actually make you angry.

A few songs in, after you're done bickering with Carlos and you have finished your third glass of champagne, Charles asks you to dance with him.

An slowed-down version of Sixpence's 'Kiss Me' plays as you take the dance floor. You blame your giddiness on the fact that you finished that flute of champagne in record time.

"What is it?" Charles questions, smoothly placing one hand on your hip while the other holds your palm. His thumb runs up and down the curve of your wrist.

"What if I step on your foot?" you retort, looking up at him. That's only one thing that makes you nervous, although you know how to dance. You took lessons for both Supercut and Parisian Valentine.

Laughter bubbles from Charles' chest and you join in, although this makes you even more nervous. It would be stupid to say you don't see how handsome he is, even if he's just your friend.

"I won't mind," Charles promises, and his fingers press a little harder against your hip bone.

"Okay, then."

It's obviously not a complicated endeavor to sway around the dance floor with Charles, he lets you set the pace, lacing your fingers together after you spin back to him.

"Thank you for coming with me, soleil," he says in a low voice. You can smell the alcohol in his breath although it's been a while since he stopped drinking, he still has to drive you back to your hotel. "I really missed you these two months."

"I love weddings. Thanks for inviting me," you squeeze his shoulder, the contrast of your manicured nails against his shirt distracts you momentarily from the fact that you can feel his breath against your jaw.

It's the second time today that you miss the chance to tell him you missed him too, and you know he notices it by the way he leans away.

The song ends before your tongue decides to respond to you again and Charles lets go of you. A few seconds feel like an hour as you stare at each other, unable—or unwilling—to say anything of what either of you really want to say.

"Care to dance?" a guy with longish hair and dark eyes is offering you his hand now, as a faster song starts and the lights around the room turn brighter.

You break eye contact with Charles and when you look at him again, he just nods, taking a step back to your assigned table.

"Sure," you tell the guy, a tense smile on your face. "Let's dance."

The ride back to your hotel is silent again, and you're too tired to find a way to fill it.

Charles' energy has shifted and this makes your stomach turn. Your anxiety worsens every time you feel someone is 'off' towards you, and that someone being Charles makes it a hundred times worse.

He takes the elevator to your room with you, placing his hand gently in the middle of your bare back to let you in first.

"We're okay, right?" you whisper, looking at your distorted reflections on the silver wall of the cubicle.

You see Charles' reflection frown and then his face turns to you. "Of course we're okay, y/n. Is something wrong?"

You shake your head, the loose strands of your bun tickle your nape. "I'm just wondering."

Charles is never bothered by your need for reassurance, not even when he needs reassurance himself. That he's not being a complete and absolute moron by wanting the woman all the boys want to dance with, and holding onto that little slither of hope that he might have a chance with her. He's the one standing next to you after the party, still.

"We are okay. Didn't you have fun today?" he asks, pushing those thoughts aside. You're friends. Just friends.

"Of course I did!" you inhale sharply, "I just— nevermind." you take your hand to the back of your head, already tired of the half undone bun that threatens to give you a headache.

"I had fun. I always have fun when I'm with you," Charles follows you out of the elevator and down the hallway to the third door marked with a 3321.

You're still struggling to find the exact hairpin that holds your hairdo together, and Charles pinpoints it almost at the same time as you do, pulling it out swiftly to make your hair fall down your shoulders.

It's a meaningless gesture, Charles hasn't given it a second thought or stopped walking. But a shiver runs down your back as his knuckles graze your nape.

"Thanks, Charlie." You say, swallowing.

"Of course," Charles puts the pin inside the pocket of his trousers with a shrug.

You stand in front of the room for a minute, having a stare down again as you rub the back of your head.

"Thank you again for today, Charles." you're the one to break the silence, keycard already between your fingers. "I had a great time."

"I'm glad, soleil." Charles his dimples appear when he smiles and your breath hitches when he leans towards you. It feels like you've been showered with ice cold water. "Good night, y/n," he says and presses his lips against your cheek.

"Good night, Charlie," you wave him goodbye from the door as he walks back to the lift.

The feeling of his lips against your skin is there, even after you've washed your face and tucked yourself into bed.

─── team principal radio: ❝thank you for reading! surprisingly, i don't have much to say this time other than i really hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that I appreciate each one of you dearly!♡❞

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weepingfromacedartree · 5 months

Text

Ten Milestones (Interlude): Voicemails

Hi friends!

Another interlude chapter is ready for ya. It's quite different than our standard chapters, so... enjoy :)

Two quick notes:

1. This interlude spans the first five-ish years of Colin’s travels abroad. It starts after the events of Chapter 5 and will lead directly into next chapter.

2. Anytime “…” appears between paragraphs, it’s to indicate that the speaker is pausing for a few seconds.

June 9th, 2015 - 3:23 PM

To: colin ✈️

From: pen ✨✨

Hey! I wanted to call and make sure you landed safely. But I, uh —

[Laughter.]

I think I got the timing wrong. I think you’re still in the air. So just call me back whenever you do land.

…

I still can’t believe you’re really doing this. I mean —

[Nervous laughter.]

Obviously, I can believe it. I just — I can’t wait to hear all about it.

Bye, Colin.

~~~~~~~~~~

June 29th, 2015 - 7:07 AM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. I just emailed you a few pictures, but um —

[Laughter.]

Did you know there are like a million stray cats roaming around Athens? I swear, there’s at least one on every corner, popping his head out looking for food or attention. But I was just going for a run and — I swear to god — I saw the reincarnation of Mr. Whiskers pissing on an olive tree. This tiny grey fur ball looked up at me and —

…

Wait. Is Mr. Whiskers dead? He would be like twelve now, right? I —

…

Well… In the case that he’s still alive, I think I just saw his long lost Greek cousin. Professor Whiskers, maybe.

[Laughter.]

Alright, Pen. Talk soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

August 27th, 2015 - 2:13 PM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. Just saw your text. Yes, I landed safely. Yes, Madrid is beautiful. No, I have yet to try the paella — but I promise you’ll be the first to receive my review.

[Laughter.]

I’ll call you later once I get a bit more settled. Bye Pen.

~~~~~~~~~~

October 18th, 2015 - 9:20 PM

To: colin ✈️

From: pen ✨✨

Hey. I just finished reading over the Italy piece. It was good. Like, really good… But perhaps one too many cheese puns?

…

Anyway… Call me back when you have the chance. You still haven’t told me about Caffè Florian. [Laughter.] Do they even stock enough sugar for your tea?

…

Okay, well… Goodnight Colin.

~~~~~~~~~~

November 23rd, 2015 - 7:39 AM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen.

Sorry. I know it’s early. But I also know today is gonna be shit so, uh…

…

Call me later, if you can.

~~~~~~~~~~

December 16th, 2015 - 10:01 PM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. I’m calling from Paris and —

I don’t know why I said that. [Laughter.] Obviously you know I’m in Paris. But, I — I was just watching the tower light up and I had a sudden memory of you telling me you wanted to come here once and I…

…

I could be misremembering. [Faint laughter.] It was a while ago, I think. But I think you’d like it here. I’ll tell you all about it at that surprise Welcome Home/Birthday/Christmas Eve Party that I know absolutely nothing about.

Night, Pen. See you soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

February 14th, 2016 - 9:27 PM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. I hate to admit it, but I am only just now realising that time zones exist and that if it’s 9:30 in New York, it’s…

…

Shit. 2:30 in London.

I apologise for ringing you in the middle of the night —

Actually — no I don’t. If I recall correctly, you’re up writing or reading or procrastinating until at least 3 AM every night anyway. Please call me back ASAP with your own apology for dodging this very important phone call.

~~~~~~~~~~

April 7th, 2016 - 8:08 PM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. I’m on the train heading into Chicago. My computer just died, so I apologise in advance for the stream of consciousness bullshit I’m about to leave for you in this message. But, um…

There’s something about being on this train that has me thinking about travel and distance and —

Good god, this already sounds corny. Sorry. Bear with me a moment.

…

It wasn’t until I landed in New York that I realised just how far away from home I was. I looked it up, and the city was about five and a half thousand kilometres away from London. I mean — god. I remember being at Eton and thinking 35 kilometres was an insane distance.

In January, New York was the furthest place I had ever been from home. Then I went to Toronto, and that became the furthest place I had ever been from home. Now I’m heading into Chicago and —

I don’t know. There’s something about being on a train that’s making me hyper-aware of just how fast I’m hurdling forward. How, every second, I’m travelling even further and further away from the pinpoint where I’ll always measure my distances from. I —

[Tired laughter.]

I’m not sure where I’m going with this, honestly. Nonetheless, thank you for lending me your future ear — assuming you actually made it this far. I —

…

Oh — I see the city up ahead. Once I get to my hotel, perhaps I can try to turn this bullshit into something a bit less corny.

I’ll call you tomorrow. Night, Pen.

~~~~~~~~~~

June 6th, 2016 - 6:15 PM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen.

Guess who’s flight just took off without him? I know — shocking, coming from such an experienced traveller such as myself. But my connecting flight was delayed so I really can’t take any of the blame.

…

Anyway… I’m stuck in Terminal E of Logan International, where I’ll likely be spending the next several hours dying from boredom and eating as many bags of crisps as I can get my hands on. If you aren’t too busy, maybe you can call me back and help with the boredom bit.

Talk soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

August 7th, 2016 - 12:49 PM

To: colin ✈️

From: pen ✨✨

Hi! I was just looking at your pictures from Cyprus and I —

[Distant clap of thunder.]

Oh. [Laughter.] I was wondering what it’s like to be in beautiful, sunny weather in the middle of the summer. Must be devastating.

~~~~~~~~~~

September 21st, 2016 - 8:30 AM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. I was just reading back your notes on my piece and I’m a little confused about the last one.

What the fuck does “too many food puns” mean? The only reason I came to Hungary was to capitalise on its pun potential.

Please call me back ASAP so we can get this sorted.

~~~~~~~~~~

December 24th, 2016 - 12:02 AM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen.

Sorry, I know it’s late. But I’m also waiting around doing absolutely nothing, so I thought I would check in.

I’m still in Sweden. But we’ll, uh — we’ll probably take off in the morning once the snow lets up. I —

…

I can’t believe it’s been six months since I’ve seen you. Since I’ve seen anyone at home. I’m a little worried that I’ll get home tomorrow and find that Greg now towers over me. Hyacinth called me last week just to complain about his latest growth spurt, so…

…

Oh shit. Sorry — I knew it was late, but I didn’t realise it's already midnight.

Merry Christmas Eve, then. I suppose it’s still technically the 23rd in London — but I suppose that doesn’t matter much when it comes to voicemails.

I feel like there’s another commemoration on this date that I’m forgetting. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but it’s so late and I’m just so bloody tired…

…

Oh well. It’ll come back to me.

Night, Pen. See you soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

May 3rd, 2017 - 11:50 PM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. Sorry. I didn’t realise how late it was. I —

…

Did you know that you can’t sink in the Dead Sea? The water is so dense with salt that your body will just pop up if you try to go under. You could try your absolute hardest to sink to the bottom, and it just wouldn’t let you.

I think there’s a metaphor in there somewhere. But it’s also very late and I just spent half the night staring at a Word doc and I’m starting to lose my ability to process complex thought.

…

Fuck it. I’m sending you the first draft now. It’s shit, but if you’re not too busy tomorrow, maybe you can send me your thoughts. And prayers.

…

Alright. Night Pen.

~~~~~~~~~~

August 24th, 2017 - 10:17 PM

To: colin ✈️

From: pen ✨✨

Hey! Um…

Daphne wanted me to call and remind you all not to get the groom too drunk the night before his wedding. Fair warning: if you don’t call me back within five minutes to confirm that Simon is still standing upright, she’s prepared to send Eloise in to break up the party.

~~~~~~~~~~

October 10th, 2017 - 7:54 PM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. Just calling ‘cause I wanted to ask if you’ve ever tried pickle soup. It sounds kind of strange but —

[Slurp.]

Good god. It’s bloody delicious. Absolutely recommend.

[Slurp.]

Talk soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

December 31st, 2017 - 10:58 PM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. At the risk of sounding extremely needy…

You’re still coming tonight, right? God knows who invited her, but Cressida Cowper is here and she keeps handing me tequila shots and I really don’t —

…

Oh shit! There you a—

~~~~~~~~~~

January 19th, 2018 - 2:30 PM

To: colin ✈️

From: pen ✨✨

Hi! Just wanted to call and see how Sydney’s treating you so far. Is it weird to be experiencing summer in the middle of January?

[Laughter.]

Anyway… Call me back when you have the chance.

~~~~~~~~~~

April 20th, 2018 - 5:58 PM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey! Good news — the baby’s here! In worse, but also extremely funny news…

Apparently El walked in while Daphne was pushing. Mum said her face literally went white before doubling over onto the floor. I —

…

Actually, I should probably go and check on her. I think they’re treating her for a concussion as we speak.

See you soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

May 24th, 2018 - 4:44 PM

To: colin ✈️

From: pen ✨✨

Hey! Sorry — can you call me back when you have the chance? I know we’re supposed to get lunch tomorrow, but Danbury just called and asked if I could come in tomorrow about the columnist position and I know we already had to postpone, but I’m worried I —

[Sigh.]

Sorry.

[Nervous laughter.]

I’m rambling. Call me back so we can discuss.

~~~~~~~~~~

June 25th, 2018 - 6:21 PM

To: pen 💛

From: colin 🤡

Hey, Pen. Just wanted to call and see how your first day on the job was. And, of course, to complain about having to travel by myself again. I almost forgot how bloody boring these layovers can be without someone there to complain about them with.

[Faint laughter.]

In person, I mean.

…

Anyway, call me when you’re free. I can’t wait to, uh —

[Cough.]

To hear about your day. Talk soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

August 22nd, 2018 - 9:09 PM

To: pen 💛

From: colin 🤡

Hey, Pen. Just calling because, uh —

Because I wanted to say hi, really.

…

Venice is good. It’s quite nice, this time of year. The weather’s starting to cool a bit. The water is calm. The food is the best in the world — but that’s not really time sensitive.

…

I really cannot stress this enough. I believe it to be a great tragedy that you have yet to eat real Italian pasta. I know you’re extremely busy with work, but if you happen to have a free weekend over the next few weeks, the door is always open.

…

Alright. Night, Pen.

~~~~~~~~~~

September 21st, 2018 - 11:51 PM

To: pen 💛

From: colin 🤡

Hey, Pen. Sorry for the late call. But I, uh —

[Faint laughter.]

I forgot how warm it is in Greece this time of year. I’m currently sitting by a river at midnight and it’s actually quite pleasant. Disturbingly so, if you ask me.

There are a few dozen other people here enjoying the weather — smoking and talking and wearing sandals, or all things. I can’t imagine anyone wearing sandals in London tonight.

…

There’s a lot I’ve forgotten about Greece. Like the cats. It’s insane, Pen. I can see three right now without even having to turn my head. I —

…

It’s just strange. I stayed here for nearly three months. That was three years ago, but still… Nothing fundamental has changed during that time. And yet…

…

And yet it feels unfamiliar to me now. But I suppose that has more to do with me — and perhaps time — than the country itself.

…

God. I sound like somebody’s grandfather. I think that’s my cue to head back to my hotel.

Night, Pen. Talk soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

December 19th, 2018 - 11:12 PM

To: pen 💛

From: colin 🤡

Hey, Pen. Sorry — I know it’s late.

I just sent you the first draft of my piece and…

I don’t know. There’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot. I tried to weave it into the story, but my readers don’t come to me for Bridgerton family history lessons, so —

[Laughter.]

Suffice to say, I left it out.

But I don’t know. I just — I keep thinking about it.

…

Did you know my grandfather was stationed here at the end of World War II? He came here in ‘44, about a year before it all went shit for the Germans. And when it did, he was given the option to leave Vienna and immediately return to London. At the time, he hadn’t been home — hadn’t seen my gran — in over three years. They wrote hundreds of letters to each other during that time — all of which are stashed in a box at Aubrey Hall, in case you were wondering. But anyway…

When the war ended, as much as my grandfather wanted to go home and see my gran’s face again, he wrote to her and asked if she would be willing to wait a little while longer. If she could stand it if he stayed here. If he remained in Vienna while the allied forces first occupied the city — to continue carrying out his duty.

She said yes. He stayed here another two years. He arrived back on English shores on April 6th, 1947. Two days later, they got married. They did at a courthouse, just the two of them together. Like they were the last two people in the world.

…

I, uh — I didn’t piece this all together through the letters alone. My dad actually told me about it a few weeks before he died. I remember asking him why granddad stayed in Vienna for so long after the war technically ended. How he could stand to stay away from the woman he seemed so desperate to return to.

I remember my dad telling me: “There are times when duty surmounts passion.” Which I didn’t understand. Mainly because I was eight and had no fucking clue what the word “surmounts” meant, but…

Now, I understand what he was trying to say. That duty and passion are separate. That my grandfather’s duty lied in war, while his passion lied with his love. That his duty went beyond his required deployment period. That he stayed in Vienna those extra two years because that’s what he felt was right, even if he would have preferred to go home and be with the love of his life.

Now, I —

…

I think my dad was wrong. He described my grandfather’s duty to his country as passionless — as if it was something he had to do when he wanted to be elsewhere. But I’ve read my grandfather’s journals from that time, and he never wrote about his life like he was carrying the weight of the world on his back. He may have been homesick and distressed at times — it was a bloody war, for god’s sake. But he — he was also proud of what he was doing. He was fulfilled. He was not drowning in a lack of passion.

I think we —

[Cough.]

I think some people, at least, have multiple passions. Passions that are at war with one another. That make it impossible to achieve everything we want all at once. Some that beg us to go home, some that beg us to stay.

I think my grandfather made a choice. I think he chose one passion for a while, and one forever. I think he knew that once they married, he wouldn’t be able to bear living without my nan ever again.

…

[Awkward laughter.]

I guess he was lucky that she was willing to wait for him.

…

[Sigh.]

Well… I believe I’ve taken up enough of your time. If you somehow managed to listen all the way to the end, I sincerely apologise for the rambling. I promise I’ll wait until Sunday to share the rest of my travel epiphanies with you.

Take care, Pen.

~~~~~~~~~~

December 20th, 2018 - 12:11 AM

To: colin 🤡

From: pen 💛

I always listen until the end.

I’ll see you on Sunday. Goodnight, Colin.

~~~~~~~~~~

January 31st, 2019 - 3:45 PM

To: pen 💛

From: colin 🤡

You know, Pen, I’m starting to suspect that you purposely ‘miss’ my calls just so you can listen back to these wonderful voice messages whenever it pleases you. And while I can understand your desire to have these recordings stashed away forever, I would selfishly prefer some actual back-and-forth between us.

I’m currently sitting outside one of the seven wonders of the world. Call me back and I’ll tell you all about it.

~~~~~~~~~~

March 21st, 2019 - 5:17 PM

To: colin 🤡

From: pen 💛

Hey! Thank you so much for your insights on my story. Danbury loved it.

Call me back when you have the chance. Thanks again!

~~~~~~~~~~

April 29th, 2019 - 7:57 PM

To: pen 💛

From: colin 🤡

Hey, Pen. Just wanted to give you a head’s up that I just sent you a draft and it’s absolute bollocks. If you can manage to turn it into something vaguely readable, I will literally fly you out here just to say thanks. And I know how much you love Thai food.

~~~~~~~~~~

June 29th, 2019 - 10:20 PM

To: colin 🤡

From: pen 💛

Hey! Sorry, I just saw that you called! And I am now remembering that you’re in Dubai and probably — hopefully — fast asleep by now so…

[Laughter.]

…

[Indecipherable noise.]

We’re, uh — We’re still out for Kate’s birthday. We’re on our way to karaoke, actually.

[Laughter.]

Thank god El is here, or else I would be worried about being the worst singer in the pub. I —

[Indecipherable noise.]

Sorry! I have to go. Call me when we’re both awake.

Lo—

[Cough.]

Um… Goodnight!

~~~~~~~~~~

October 18th, 2019 - 8:08 PM

To: colin 🤡

From: pen 💛

Did you really just send me an SOS text from Los Angeles? I admire your creativity, but this is not how you convince someone to drop everything and take an impromptu holiday with you.

…

In the event that you are in an actual emergency, please contact the proper authorities. I appreciate your commitment to the bit, but I ask that you please not sacrifice your life for it.

~~~~~~~~~~

December 9th, 2019 - 8:30 AM

To: pen 💛

From: colin 🤡

Hey, Pen.

I just finished reading your new column. Phenomenal, as always… But how the hell did you manage to sneak a pun in there? I thought Danbury had a strict policy against “superfluous literary devices.”

However you managed it… Congratulations. I couldn’t be prouder.

~~~~~~~~~~

December 19th, 2019 - 4:41 PM

To: colin 🤡

From: pen 💛

Hey! I had a work thing tonight but it just got cancelled. Any chance you want to meet at Mondrich’s?

Let me know. I’ll, um, hopefully see you soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

January 29th, 2020 - 9:22 PM

To: pen 💛

From: colin 🤡

Hey, Pen.

…

You’re the closest thing I have to a manager, right? In your professional opinion…

Would it be crazy to bail on this trip early? Give myself, uh… 48 hours to go home and grab some proper fish and chips. See Auggie and Blair. See mum. See you — obviously. London isn’t the most logical pit stop between Berlin and Prague but…

…

Yeah — you know what? It was a dumb idea. I’ve got plenty of those, so…

Call me back when you’re not too busy. Maybe I can share some more.

~~~~~~~~~~

February 14th, 2020 - 10:00 AM

To: colin 🤡

From: pen 💛

Good morning!

Is it still morning in Prague? I —

[Faint laughter.]

I suppose that doesn’t matter much when it comes to voicemails. I, um —

I’m doing some research on old churches. Which — don’t ask. But I’m currently sitting on the steps outside St. Bride’s Church. I don’t know if you’d recognise it, but it’s the one downtown that, um —

[Laughter.]

The one that looks like a wedding cake.

I think you’d like it. And not just because of its food-shaped exterior.

It’s actually considered a church for writers. And for publishers. It got that reputation back in the 17th century, when the publishing industry was booming here on Fleet Street. But, regardless of all that…

It’s really quite an interesting building. I can see why it’s attracted and inspired so many great writers over the years.

Maybe we can check it out the next time you’re in town. Which is…

God. June, I think?

…

Anyway… I’m still at the very beginning stages of my research, so I barely know what it is I want to write about yet. But one thing that’s stuck out to me so far is how old these buildings feel. How the architecture, the acoustics, the artwork, the —

…

Honestly? I’m not sure exactly what does it, but something makes these buildings feel as though they’ve stood here forever. This particular church has only been here about 350 years. But still… You feel all that time when you walk through its halls.

It’s a good reminder, I think. To know how long things last.

…

Wow. So this is how it feels to be on the other side of these long, rambling, stream of consciousness voicemails.

[Faint laughter.]

Bye, Colin. Thank you for lending me your future ear.

~~~~~~~~~~

March 11th, 2020 - 5:55 PM

To: colin 🤡

From: pen 💛

Hi! I just got off my train. I assume you’re still in the air, so just text me whenever you land.

Hopefully the airport wasn’t too chaotic, but um…

…

I’ll meet you at the hotel. I —

I can’t wait to see you.

#bridgerton #polin #fanfiction #weepingfromacedartree #fanfic #ao3 #ten milestones #penelope x colin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton

12 notes · View notes

cygnetofthesea · 3 years

Text

Welcome Home, Part 1: Élite Fanfiction

This fic was inspired and dedicated to @sweetpeony200 and the request for a Guznadia reunion in NYC. Thank you for the inspiration!! It’s not quite what was asked, so apologies for that! (Hopefully @jasminejc4525 writes her version 👀 ) The writing ran away from me and I couldn’t help but delve into Guzman’s psyche. I love doing character studies so this was a way for me to explore the complexities of Guzman’s mind and emotions. I hope to write a second part with more of their reunion, more of their present-day interaction the day Guzman arrives. Hope this part is still enjoyable until then! <3 Part of the Moments Series.

Guzman sat still with his eyes closed, the picture of calm if anyone looked over at him, but inside his was an anxious mess. He wasn't a nervous flyer by any means as he's gone on countless trips overseas throughout his short life, but this was no ordinary flight and he was no longer that ordinary boy.

This was the flight that was taking him toward the rest of his life.

The past few months without Nadia had been unbearable. He had known it was going to be difficult but he hadn't been prepared for the constant tightness that sat on his chest. The only thing that loosened it was Nadia, talking to her, face-timing her, texting her. Every time he saw her name or face on his screen, his chest swelled with elation instead of pain.

It was with Nadia's absence that Guzman was forced to confront the pain that haunted him from Marina and Polo's death. He felt that out-of-body experience all too often, every morning waking up to a sense of loss and confusion. His sister was dead, his best friend had murdered her, and now that best friend was murdered too. It was too much for him to comprehend, his mind twirling with the reality of it because it just didn't feel real, couldn't be real.

But it was.

Every time he looked in the mirror, he saw the ashen face that became almost unrecognizable to him. He didn't know how it was possible to be still standing in the wake of all this grief.

It was Nadia who had made him feel human, who had centered him, quelled the raging storm inside of him enough to feel alive. Her simple presence felt like a balm to his soul, brought peace to his mind and combated the pain, the incomprehensible thoughts as he tried to make sense of his life.

It was with her Guzman felt like he could deal with everything. She was the tether that brought him to life and snapped him back to reality. Guzman had always been intrigued by her, since the first moment he set eyes on her simply because of the utter calm and resolve she emitted.

She was this young girl of sixteen and yet he carried herself with a sense of resolve and strength that was unlike anything he had seen in even some adults. Even Lu, who he believed to be tough, wasn't anything like Nadia, didn't nearly compare because it was Lu's privilege that gave her that strength. She was born into a world where everything was handed to her, her every desire was at her fingertips, effortless.

But Nadia wasn't like that. Not by a long shot. She worked hard for everything, every single step she took was a battle for her because of her race, her religion, her gender, her socioeconomic standing. She had everything working against her and yet she weathered through it, pushing her way not by aggression or iniquitous means but with a quiet fierceness, a calm gait.

He had to admit, his attraction to her was instant. That had been quite unexpected in of itself and it caught him completely off guard, but it was undeniable. He was pulled in by her demeanor, completely and utterly intrigued by her. He wanted to unwrap her, metaphorically and literally. He wanted to uncover the complexities of her, what gave her that strength, what made her happy, what made her laugh. And then as soon as that thought entered his mind, he knew he needed to see it, to hear it.

What did Nadia Shana's laughter sound like? What did her smiling eyes look like? Particularly, what did her soft eyes and smile look like when it was directed at him? And when by some miracle he managed to achieve that smile, he was addicted, pulled even deeper into her. He was lost and in love before he even knew it was happening.

If he thought it was a miracle that he made her smile, he didn’t know what to call her falling in love with him, her actually wanting and agreeing to be with him. Perhaps it was some divine intervention. Perhaps God had decided that he finally earned her love, that he had suffered enough and deserved something beautiful and miraculous. That she was meant to be his savior all along. Nadia Shana saved so many simply by existing.

And now as the eight hour flight was coming to a close, he couldn’t believe he was going to be reunited with his miracle at long last. He felt like at any moment he would open his eyes and wake up in bed with a heavy heart full of longing and tired, wet eyes. He opens his eyes now at the thought, wanting to get the disappointment over with, but instead of finding himself in bed, he’s met with the sign that reads Fasten Seat belt.

It flashes red just as a ding overhead sounds.

“Attention passengers, we are now approaching JFK airport. Please fasten your seat belt in preparation for the descent. Thank you for flying Air Eropa, we hope you had a pleasant trip.”

Guzman takes a deep breath, his sweaty hands immediately fastening his seatbelt. His heart is racing in anticipation and impatience. His leg bounces erratically as he looks out the window as though somehow he’d be able to spot Nadia from such great heights. He’s momentarily distracted by the view but soon wonders if Nadia was already waiting for him or perhaps she was still on her way.

He switches out the SIM card from his phone for the one Nadia had mailed him a week before so that he could call her as soon as he landed. He remembered the day he saw it in their mailbox. He knew to expect because Nadia had already given him the heads up, they had been making all the arrangements for weeks at that point, but he wasn’t any less excited when he saw it.

He had torn through the package that had her neat handwriting on it and wanted to immediately switch out the SIM cards but she had teased him it wouldn’t work.

“An American SIM isn’t going to do you much good in Madrid,” Nadia had giggled.

Guzman shrugged with a tilt of his head. “I know but I’m excited. I feel like I’m one step closer to you and I can’t wait until you’re in my arms.”

She had looked at him softly, a wistful smile on her face. “I know what you mean. I can’t wait either.”

Before he knows it, the plane lands and Guzman is out of his seat and grabbing his carry-on in record speed. His strides are long and fast and he feels like he’s practically flying at the rate he’s going. He can’t see anything in his periphery, his eyes ahead and only looking around to make sure he’s going to the right place.

He calls her as soon as he can, finally putting the new SIM card to use. The phone rings for a long and excruciating minute. His heart begins to sink when he hears the click on her beautiful voice on the other end.

“Guzman,” she says breathlessly as though she had been running. “Are you here? I just saw your flight landed.”

His stomach does a somersault, a beaming smile across his face. “Yeah, I just picked up my suitcase. Are you here?”

Nadia lets out an astonished laugh. “You’re really here? Where?”

Guzman looks around. “I’m by the Emirates line, where it says terminal 7.”

“I’m looking for you.”

His heart gallops in his chest and he sounds winded when he asks, “You’re here?”

“When you say ‘here’ you better mean JFK airport because that’s where I am now.”

Guzman spins in place, one hand on his suitcase and the other pressing his phone tightly to his ear. He can hear his own heavy breath loud in his ear.

“Yes, this is definitely JFK airport,” he laughs, looking at the crowd. He even spots a film crew on the other side and remembers how Nadia said it was a popular site for tv shows and films. That was probably why it was especially crowded and hard to see around the bodies.

Nadia lets out her own excited laugh. “I see you! You’re wearing your green jacket, the one with the orange lining inside, the one I gave you.”

The excitement mounts inside of him, he feels like his heart would either burst out of him or he would throw up right then.

“Yes! Yes, I’m wearing your jacket. You can see me? Where are you?”

“I’m coming toward you. Turn around.”

He whirls around and there she was, his eyes immediately finding her. It was as though time had stopped and everything, everybody had ceased to exist and there was only her. Nadia, Nadia, Nadia….

In every scenario he imagined, he had run toward her. No matter how wild his imagination, In every single version of his reunion with her, there was running involved: he’d see her as soon as he got off the plane, waiting for him at the tarmac and he’d run to her, their eyes would meet across the the luggage pick-up and he’d jump across and run to her, they’d see each other across the airport and run to each other, colliding until they fell to the ground.

But here, in this moment now, he was stunned. He wasn’t prepared for the breadth of her beauty so close to him, just mere steps away. It was almost overwhelming, his senses anticipating her, his mind unable to comprehend that she was here, that in just moments he would be able to not only hear and see her but actually touch her, smell her, feel her, kiss her...even make love to her if she was so inclined.

His arm falls to his side, limply holding his phone and his breath is caught in his throat as he stares at her in awe. She felt like a mirage but her sparkling eyes are drawing closer, closing the distance between them. She stops just inches away from him, a soft, achingly beautiful smile on her face that he feels his chest hurt at the sight.

She’s the first one to speak. “Hey.”

And just like that, he’s snapped back to reality, the emotions falling over him in one fell sweep that he feels like he’d buckle under the weight but instead he pulls her into his arms, holding onto her to tether him.

“Nadia.” His voice comes out in a choked sob and it’s only then he realizes that he’s crying.

He feels her warm body against him, soft and familiar and he finally feels what he’s been missing all along: home.

He wraps his arms around her tightly, encasing her and holding her close as though trying to meld their bodies together.

“Nadia.”

“Guzman.”

He buries his face in her neck, feeling the coolness of her silk hijab and the warmth from her skin simultaneously, the sensation so familiar and glorious he can’t help leaning heavily against her.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he croaks.

“I’ve missed you too.”

He pulls back slightly and catches her glittering eyes. She lets out a wet chuckle and wipes his cheeks with both hands. “I’ve missed this face.”

She leans in and kisses his damp skin and his eyes flutter close as he kisses his eyes next, basking in her touch even as it makes him breathless.

“Oh god, I love you.”

He lets out a ragged breath and pulls her lips to his before she can even respond, unable to hold off any longer. He needs to feel her, taste her and god, does she taste divine. He doesn’t mean to get carried away but the full weight of reality hits him: she’s really here in his arms, he’s not going to wake up because this isn’t a dream.

He kisses her hard, cupping the back of her head as it leans back against the force of his lips. His tongue slides against her desperately again and again, needing to breathe her in, needing her taste to fill him up because he has been hungry for so long, starving for her touch and he can’t get enough.

He wants to slide his lips against more skin, find the soft spot behind her ear that he knows makes her weak, before sliding down her throat, his tongue tracing the skin there. He wants to grip her until her clothes fall away and there’s nothing left but her skin against his.

He’s so desperate for her he feels he could weep and almost does when she pulls away with a gasp. He chases her lips with a soft whine at the back of his throat. “Nadia,” he pants, looking at her with hooded eyes.

Her eyes are just as intense but with a shyness that he certainly didn’t have. He had no qualms showing all his love for her for the world to see.

She slides her hand down to his chest to halt any further movement with a soft smile. “I love you too. Let’s go home,” she says.

And he wants to pull her in again, the word home echoing inside him, his body filling with elation. Home, he was home now, with her. He swallows thickly and nods against her. It takes a herculean effort to pull away from her but even then, he pulls away just enough to gather up his large suitcase that had fallen in his haste to embrace Nadia. He keeps an arm firmly around her, plastering her to him.

Nadia giggles at the gesture, shaking her head even as she stands on her tiptoes to kiss his jaw. “Is this all you brought with you? I was expecting more.”

“No, I just brought the essentials and figured Mama can ship the rest as I need them. Plus, I can always get new things here.”

“How was your flight?” She tries to reach for his carry-on. “Here, let me hold that for you, at least. You must be tired.”

“It’s ok, I’m not tired,” he says, looking at her with a soft smile. He was still reeling but he hooks the carry-on to the suitcase and pulls them forward, keeping his arm tight around her. “How did you get here?”

Her smile turns coy as she looks up at him. This time, she was the one dragging him forward eagerly. “It’s a surprise. Come on!”

She drags him along by the hand, practically skipping with excitement that he can’t help laughing with her. They make it out of the airport and immediately he’s bombarded with noise. He’s not unfamiliar with city life being from Madrid and visiting Barcelona often, but the noise here certainly felt different somehow. People chattering in so many different languages, cars honking, loved ones greeting each other with shouts and squeals.

He barely has time to register it all when Nadia expertly weaves him past the people and cars, crossing what looked like an island to get to a parking lot. He glances behind them at the long line of taxis waiting in a line, confused.

“Isn’t that where we’re supposed to wait for the taxi?”

But Nadia says nothing, simply squeezing his hand and continuing her trek to the parking lot.

“Is there a special taxi here?” he asks.

“Oh I can’t wait to see how this city is going to test your patience,” she says in amusement.

They finally stop in front of a grey jeep, clearly an older model but still in relatively good shape. Guzman looks at it, noting that it had been recently cleaned, a shiny gleam to the impeccable paint job. He peers inside and sees it’s neat and tidy in there with soft-looking seats and a backpack in the back seat.

He looks back at Nadia. “What’s this? Is this our uber? Where’s the driver?”

He’s looking around as though the driver was going to stride up any second when Nadia lets go of his hand and heads toward the trunk. She pops open the trunk and looks at him expectantly.

“What, am I going to be your bellhop and your driver? Get your suitcase in here.”

Guzman looks at her stunned, not comprehending what she was implying. He looks between her smug face and the car with new eyes. He points at the car and lets out an astonished laugh.

“This is yours? How?”

Nadia shrugs, dusting off invisible dust from her shoulders with a wink. “I bought it.”

His eyes bug. “But, you don’t even drive?”

She brandishes a card out to him, seemingly from out of nowhere. “I do now.”

He takes the card from her and looks at it in awe, seeing her name, birthday, and picture on it, confirming that Nadia, indeed, could drive. At least according to the state of New York and if his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

“Holy shit,” he laughs. He grabs her up into a hug, lifting her off the ground. “Congratulations, baby, I’m so proud of you! You never said anything when we spoke.”

She returns his happy kiss when he sets her back down. “I wanted to surprise you. Plus, I’d have been embarrassed if I ended up not passing so I didn’t want to get both of our hopes up.”

He shakes his head lovingly at her, placing more quick kisses to her mouth. “Nadia, I’d never be disappointed in you. I’d have been proud of you simply for trying.”

She kisses his nose. “I know you would and I love you all the more for it. I just wanted to surprise you and see the look on your face just now? Worth it.”

“Holy shit,” he says again, in awe. “I can’t believe you managed all this on top of everything else. I mean, I can, but I can’t comprehend how. And the car, I thought money was tight?”

Nadia shrugs. “It’s not the easiest, but I’ve been saving up well before Columbia even happened. I always wanted a car and I always thought college would be the best time to get one, in case I ended up somewhere near home and needed to commute.”

“Wow” He shakes his head again, this time with a dull ache in his chest. All these months Nadia had been painstakingly saving her hard-earned money not just for school but for freedom, she had been studying for her permit, took her test, passed, took driving lessons and then passed that too. All of this had been happening and he had no clue.

He knew she wasn’t trying to keep him out of the loop intentionally and his heart warmed at the thought of her wanting to surprise him but it made him realize once again how different they were. Not for the first time he wondered what she even saw in him. Would she ever wake up and realize that she could do better than him? Selfishly he prayed that she didn’t.

“You’re amazing,” he says. “So my suitcase can fit in here?”

She scoffs, “Please, it can fit at least three of the same size,” she calculates. She jumps in place and gestures to the open trunk. “Come on, stick it in there! Or do you want to check out more of this parking lot?”

Guzman pretends to look around. “Is a carnival going to pop up somewhere? I’ve heard they do that here.”

Nadia rolls her eyes and shoves him playfully. He catches her hand in his keeping her from pulling away completely. “Someone’s eager to get me home.”

“And someone’s not?” she challenges, sending him a coy look.

Immediately Guzman throws his suitcase inside haphazardly and slams the trunk shut. “What are we waiting for? I just had a long flight.”

He shuffles Nadia urgently to the driver's side, her laughter filing his ears pleasantly. He smooches kisses to her cheek as he helps her in before running around to the passenger side.

The drive is long and somehow short all at the same time. Perhaps Guzman hadn’t yet become jaded from the New York City traffic and he was too amused with Nadia’s bouts of road rage to notice how long they sat on the road.

“Did you see that idiot? You’re supposed to signal, how do you pass the driver’s test when you don’t even signal?” She mutters under her breath but he hears her anyway.

He stares at her in bliss for a moment, watching her practiced movements. He’s never seen her drive before. He remembers the one failed attempt at teaching her on one of their dates but she had gotten too nervous with all the functions in his car.

“Why are there so many buttons, where do I put the key?” she had asked nervously, looking around.

“This car doesn’t need a key. See here? You put your foot on the gas and then push the button?”

She had whipped around to look at him with wide eyes. “What?!”

“Surely this isn’t the first time you heard of an automatic car?” he asked in amusement.

“Well no but I guess we haven’t been in your car a whole lot for me to notice. I don’t know about this Guzman.”

“You’re going to be fine,” he soothed. “Press your foot on the gas lightly and then push the button.”

She does so hesitantly and oh so carefully that it’s a shock to both of them when the car roars to life. “No! No, I don’t want to do this anymore, Guzman. Turn it off, make it stop!”

He tried to muffle his laughter as he put a soothing hand to the back of her neck and pushed the engine button so it quieted down once more.

“That couldn’t have been so scary,” he told her, rubbing his thumb against her skin all the while. He couldn’t help teasing her because she looked so cute but he didn’t want to freak her out either.

“Um it was and I don’t want to do it again.” She moves to get out of the car before freezing in place as though it was going to blow up with the slightest movement. “It’s off, right?”

“Yes, it’s off.”

He had barely gotten the rest of the words out before she bolted out.

That had been the first and last attempt at teaching Nadia how to drive, but looking at her now, he wouldn’t have believed she had been petrified at the thought of it just six months ago.

He wants to continue staring at Nadia but she pushes his face to look out the windshield. “You’ll have plenty of time to look at me until you get sick of my face, check out the sights.”

He obediently keeps his face forward but glances at her from the corner of his eyes. “I’ll never get sick of your face.”

But he does finally comply and takes in his surroundings, after all, this was going to be his new home. He has to admit, the pictures don't do New York City justice. He remembers seeing pictures and even videos of the highly populated city, cars stuck in traffic, people walking carelessly across the street, but nothing is quite like being in the midst of it. He is now among those people in the photos and it felt so surreal.

It was hard to fathom that just a year ago, he had no idea what his future would look like. Had anyone asked him then, he’d have shrugged carelessly and likely joked about sitting on a beach or even sailing in the Balearic Sea or something. But never taking in the sun from New York City and certainly not with the love of his life. He knows he’s supposed to look around and be the wide-eyed tourist, and he will be, but at the moment, all he wants to do is look at the love of his life.

He tries to be subtle about it, leaning his head back and letting it lol in her direction. He does catch sights of the bridge and the gorgeous water gleaming under the bright sunlight, but he’s more entranced by how the sun makes her look ethereal, almost unreal. Guzman was a man of God so there were moments where he wondered if Nadia was an angel meant to guide him through light.

But then he’d really look at her, look past the beauty that rendered him speechless, and look at the person she was. She was more than a miracle, she was a person with her own hopes and dreams and he’d do everything in his power to ensure she achieves them.

Nadia somehow weaves through the bustling roads, carefully and patiently, now that they had left what was the main freeway. They seemed to have reached an area that she was more familiar with and as he paid attention once more to the world outside, he realized it’s vaguely familiar to him too. Nadia had taken pictures on some of these roads and sent them to him, even taking quick little videos to show him the madness that would take place on the streets. They must be getting closer to her apartment—their apartment.

He looks out the window, up at the tall building before it’s obscured from view as Nadia pulls into an underground parking space. He feels a little breathless suddenly, reality hitting him once more. This new, strange, and unfamiliar place would be his home now for the foreseeable future. All the things that he knew and was familiar with, the grocery stores, the arcades, the beaches, everything he once knew was gone. Well, not gone exactly, but would become a distant memory as he made new ones in a new place.

There’s a small ache in his chest, a sense of homesickness but more for the innocence of youth. But as he thinks about his future with Nadia, the ache eases and he’s filled with hope and endless possibilities. He once believed he could do anything he wanted but it was more due to an ignorant cockiness he had, born from privilege. Now, though, he knew that the possibilities only existed because of Nadia. Because she was by his side, Guzman felt like he was capable and worthy enough to deserve a beautiful future.

He looks over to her with a smile, “Is this it? Is this the apartment?”

“Our apartment,” she corrects and he feels like his chest would burst. “But yes, we’re here. Welcome home, Guzman.”

#Guznadia #Nuzman #Guzman x Nadia #Nadia x Guzman #Elite #Netflix Élite #cygnetofthesea graphics #cygnetofthesea writings #cygnetofthesea edits

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madamebaggio · 3 years

Photo

Notes! IMPORTANT INFORMATION:

I don’t know how many of the non-latins here will get this reference, but I’m sure Brazilians -such as myself -and if there’s any Mexican around will. I can’t say about other Latin countries, or any of our northern neighbors and everybody that’s beyond that…

Have you guys ever heard about the Mexican band RBD? That’s a good way to start this conversation.

Back in 2004 (if I’m not mistaken) there was this Mexican telenovela called “Rebelde”. It was a remake of an Argetinian telenovela (“Rebelde Way”), and it told the story of a bunch of rich kids in a boarding school. Well, not all the kids were rich, but you get the idea.

From the telenovela came the band (RBD), which had six members, who also played characters in the telenovela.

I was 14 at the time and I was absolutely mad over it. It was great, cheesy and corny in the best possible way. I have many fond memories of the telenovela and great regret that I never got the chance to see RBD playing live.

Anyway, the band broke up around 2009, but many fans still love them (maybe it’s just us Brazilians, we have a hard time letting go of stuff…)

Recently their albums finally were made available on Spotify and it got me thinking and…Well, this is the result.

I’m not saying that this is what happened to the actors after the band/telenovela was over. It was just another crazy idea that popped into my mind and wouldn’t let go until I wrote it down.

So… Yeah.

***

Chapter 1

Arthur was passing by Catia’s room when he heard it.

“You’re such a hooligan.”

He knew the voice, he knew where that sentence came from. Before he even noticed what he was doing, he’d pushed Catia’s door open and caught her watching TV.

He saw himself on the screen, much younger -God, so much younger -talking to the pretty redhead.

“And you’re a brat. So what?”

“I didn’t know you liked this show.” He said, startling Catia.

“Arthur!” She paused the scene, and turned to him. “I’m sorry. Did you…”

“I didn’t know they had that on Netflix.” He spoke before she could finish her sentence.

“Oh.” She looked at the TV like it was guilty of something. “They put it on it last week.”

Arthur hummed his understanding.

He didn’t really mind seeing himself as Michael Rivers, the poor student at High Tower Academy. It’d actually been his first role in TV, many years ago. The show (which was cringely called ‘Rebel Way’) was about an exclusive boarding school, and he was the underdog who fell in love with a rich girl.

Oh yes… They also sang. They made it cool before High School Musical came along. The show wasn’t actually a musical, but his character and a few friends were part of a band in it and in ‘real life’.

The show lasted three seasons -their time at the Academy -and the band still lasted two years after that.

“I can turn it off if you want.” Catia offered quietly.

Arthur shook his head. “No. It’s okay, Catia. You can watch it; I just didn’t know you liked the show.”

“It’s fun in a silly way.” She confessed with a giggle.

Arthur chuckled. “I know. I’m not embarrassed by it or anything.”

He left Catia to her show, and tried not to think about his time spent on it.

His mobile rang; it was Bedivere, his agent.

“Olenna Tyrell called me.” Bedivere told him without preamble. “She wants to talk to you.”

Fuck.

***

Sansa sat there as the hairdresser fixed her hair for the shooting. George was an artist, and he was making amazing curls on her hair.

Brienne was sitting on the couch nearby, checking her phone as they prepared and Sansa was talking about a new restaurant with George.

His new assistant kept throwing nervous glances towards Sansa, and the woman wondered when she’d get the courage to ask what was on her mind.

“Oh Seven, Lindsay. Just ask her already.” George told the girl, rolling his eyes when her fidgeting got on his nerves.

“I’m sorry!” Lindsay blushed terribly. “I didn’t want to bother you, Miss Stark.”

Sansa gave the girl a gentle smile. “It’s fine, Lindsay. What did you want to ask me?”

Lindsay bit her lower lip, clearly worried about saying what she had on her mind. However, she seemed to find her courage.

“I… I’m a big fan of Rebel Way.” She finally said. “I know it’s been a long time and all… But your character, Mia, was my first fashion icon.”

Sansa chuckled. “I’m glad to hear that. I loved her clothes.”

Lindsay seemed excited by it. “I made a uniform by myself when I was eleven.”

“Which uniform?” Sansa asked. “I liked the one in the first season better.”

“Me too!”

“Sansa.” Brienne cut in gently. “It’s a call for you. You might want to take it.”

Sansa frowned, wary of Brienne’s tone, but took the phone her agent was offering her.

“Sansa speaking.”

“Hey, Stark.” Margaery’s sugary sweet voice called from the other side. “We need to talk.”

***

Margaery knew Sansa wouldn’t be happy with the idea, but she’d promised her grandmother she’d do this for her.

Olenna was the only person that could get Margaery to do absolutely anything. She’d hide a body for her grandmother.

It took some convincing, but Sansa eventually accepted coming to the meeting. A part of Marge had wanted to hide some things from Sansa -like who was going to be there -but she knew it was unfair. They’d been friends for a really long time, and Marge wouldn’t risk it just to make her task easier.

She was in a peculiar position: on one hand, she was really happy with her life now, on the other, she genuinely thought that her grandmother’s idea was a good one.

When Marge entered the cast of Rebel Way, she was supposed to be the star of the show. Her grandmother was producing the whole thing, so it was a given.

She hadn’t liked Sansa at first, because it was clear that she’d get a lot of attention too. Their characters -Mia and Rosalie -were rivals for a big part of the show -they only became friends at the end of the second season.

Marge and Sansa managed to become friends much earlier. Probably because Marge started dating Sansa’s brother, and Robb wanted them to get along.

It was very difficult to say ‘no’ to Robb Stark.

Which reminded Marge…

He’d be there as well.

Oh hell…

***

With the years, people stopped recognizing Robb as Daniel Cross from Rebel Way. He’d been way younger then, and now he had a beard so most people didn’t recognize him.

Some of the old fans still could, and he never changed his name; but generally he lived a pretty normal life.

“Mr. Cross.”

Some people were just fuckers. “Can I help you, Jon?” He glared at his long-time friend.

“Sansa’s on the phone.” Jon informed him, offering his own mobile. “She said she needs to talk to you and your phone is turned off.”

Robb frowned. Sansa was supposed to be in Madrid for a photoshoot. Why would she be calling him in the middle of the day?

Robb’s phone was dead, and he’d forgotten to recharge it, but if Sansa had called Jon looking for him, it should be serious.

Right?

“Hey, princess.” Robb said softly as he picked the phone. Jon waved at him, before leaving the room so they could talk.

“Hello, Robb.” Her voice was warm. “Do you have a minute?”

“For you? Always. Is something wrong?”

There was a pause. “Not exactly.”

“This doesn’t sound promising. What happened?”

“Margaery called me.” She sighed. “Olenna wants to meet with us.”

“What does Her Majesty want with us?”

Sansa took another long pause. “It’s about the show. Margaery just wouldn’t say what exactly.”

Oh shit. Robb did the math quickly in his head. He was almost certain that the show was about to reach its 15th anniversary. If he was correct, this couldn’t be just a coincidence.

“I really hope this isn’t a revival.” Robb joked softly. Lord, no!

“I don’t think it’s about the show, to be honest. I think it’s about the band.”

Robb cursed under his breath. “If it’s about the band…”

“They’re all going to be there.” Sansa finished for him.

“Shit. I’m going to call Theon.”

“That’s why I called you.” She confessed.

Robb sighed. “Thank you for the heads up.”

“Just be ready when you get the royal call.”

Robb snorted.

***

“Thank you for coming, Theon.”

Theon shook the hand of the man. “It’s always my pleasure, Tom.”

“You bring a lot of comfort to those kids. You make them realise it’s possible.”

Theon gave Tom a vague smile. “I’m glad to be of help.”

He waved and started leaving the room. Theon had mixed feelings when he heard things like this. On one hand, he was very proud of himself; it hadn’t been easy to get sober and remain sober. On the other hand… He didn’t feel like a good example, like he was someone any of those people should aspire to be like.

Yes, he’d been sober for almost seven years now, but it had been one hell of a messy journey.

When he reached the parking lot, he was shocked to see Robb there, leaning casually against his car.

“What’s up, Stark?” He called.

Robb looked at him and grinned. “Hey, Greyjoy.” They hugged it out. “Listen… Have you checked your phone?”

Theon was immediately wary. “No. I turn it off during meetings.”

“Right…” Robb cleared his throat. “So you’ll probably have some missed calls.”

“Robb, you didn’t come here to play the answering machine to me. What the fuck is going on?”

“Olenna is calling all of us.” Robb admitted. “Called Sansa, then me… And probably you.”

“Why?”

“Sansa thinks she wants to get the band back.”

“Why?” Theon repeated, this time disconcerted.

“I have no clue, but we’re getting close to the show’s anniversary.”

“Oh shit.” Theon grumbled. “I knew there was something weird going on.”

“What do you mean?”

“You should start checking Twitter.” Theon told him dryly. “Last week they put the show on Netflix. ‘Rebel Way’ is trending.”

Robb groaned. “Now what?”

“I’ll be honest… I want to know what the Queen wants.” Theon confessed. “Let’s see if I have a message waiting for me.”

***

“Have you heard? Sansa Stark is going to be exclusively with Versace this year.”

Maggie ignored the gossiping assistants and tried not to sigh.

She couldn’t escape Sansa’s name, since they were basically in the same industry, but it was never easy to hear it thrown around so casually.

Fashion Week was almost upon them, and people had often questioned the lack of interaction between the two former band mates.

Maggie was used to people asking her why Sansa -one of the highest paid models in the world -never worked with Maggie -the rising star of the fashion world.

Maggie wished she had a simple answer to that. She normally said that their schedules never worked out, and she knew Sansa had answered the same a few times.

The truth was Maggie resented Sansa a bit. She didn’t hate the model or whatever some people thought, she just…

Those years working together hadn’t been easy on Maggie. That was it. She wasn’t ready to just get back to it.

Her phone rang and when she picked it up, she saw a strange number calling. She ignored the call and was ready to put it away when it rang again, and Arthur’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hello, Arthur.” She said as she answered it.

“Oh you answered, great.” Arthur let out a relieved sigh. “Listen, Olenna Tyrell is going to call you. I’m calling first to warn you: she wants a meeting.”

“Oh. Slow down.” She asked, her head spinning. “What meeting?”

“A meeting with all of us; the whole band.”

Maggie had to sit down. “You can’t be serious.”

“I talked to her myself a few hours ago.” He told her. “The old witch wouldn’t tell me exactly what’s on her mind, but if she wants to see us all…”

“Are you sure she wants to meet with all of us at the same time?” Maggie pressed, desperate for a negative answer.

“She said that. ‘Get the kids back together’.” Arthur copied -poorly- Olenna’s voice. “Bedivere thinks it’s about the songs, but I think it isn’t that simple.”

“It never is.” Maggie grumbled, massaging her temples.

“Listen, if you don’t want to go, I’ll stand by you.” Arthur said, and she knew he meant it. “We don’t owe her anything.”

“Well, technically…”

“No ‘technically’, Maggie. We don’t need to do this.”

Maggie sighed. No, they didn’t, but she needed to. Some things had to be discussed, some problems had to be solved, and this was the only way she’d get some closure.

She needed to face the music -and the band.

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myonechicagoworld · 3 years

Text

CHICAGO FIRE – WARM AND DEAD (S01E13)

[elevator dings]

Renee Royce: Oh [laughs] Oh….

No. No, no, no, no, no, no.

Kelly Severide: Come on.

Renee Royce: No! [chuckles]

Wow.

Renee Royce: Do you mind taking our picture?

Man 1: Sure.

[camera clicks]

Renee Royce: [laughs]

Kelly Severide: Apartment fire. Ten car pile up. Hand caught in a

machine.

Renee Royce: Okay, all right. In Madrid, it is going to be, um, tapas,

tapas, dance club, and, um, Catholic Church.

Kelly Severide: You think I can dance?

Renee Royce: Well, I can dance and you can just watch.

Kelly Severide: That I can do.

I’ve never done that before.

Renee Royce: Oh, yeah?

Kelly Severide: Yeah.

Renee Royce: Wow. Well then, I guess this is gonna be the first of

many new things then, huh?

Kelly Severide: Yeah.

Renee Royce: Yeah.

[kissing sound]

Kelly Severide: What is it?

Renee Royce: I met this doctor.

Kelly Severide: A doctor?

Renee Royce: Not like that. I just, um… Well I put out some feelers

to my medical contacts and, um, it turns out that

the Chief of Orthopedics over at River Forest

Hospital is… pioneering some kind of experimental

spinal surgery, and he wants to meet you.

Kelly Severide: Really?

Renee Royce: Yeah.

You know what? Maybe this will help you get to

Madrid even sooner. Hm.

[kissing sound]

cutscene

[phone rings]

Chief Boden: Chief Boden.

Ernie: Do you remember me?

Chief Boden: Ernie.

Ernie: Yeah.

Chief Boden: What’s going on? You okay?

Ernie: No.

Chief Boden: [sighs] Talk to me. Where are you?

Ernie.

[hangs up]

Chief Boden: Ernie.

[car door opens & shuts]

[engine revs off]

[dramatic music]

[siren blares]

[horn blasting]

[truck door shuts]

Christopher Herrmann: Hardware store. Not good.

Matt Casey: Cruz, Mills, vent the roof.

Joe Cruz: Hardware store’s got propane tanks, accelerants.

[explosion]

Matt Casey: Go, go, go!

[siren blares]

Chief Boden: (into radio) Dispatch be advised, Battalion 25’s on

scene.

Dispatcher: (over radio) Copy that, 25.

Matt Casey: Got one down.

[metal clangs]

Matt Casey: Herrmann, take his legs.

[overlapping chatter]

Gabby Dawson: No pulse.

Leslie Shay: Not breathing.

Engine Fireman: Fire’s out, Chief. Looks like another dumpster fire.

- title -

Gabby Dawson: What’s up?

Otis Zvonecek: The door’s jammed.

Christopher Herrmann: I told Chief we needed to grease this

puppy before the weather turned.

Mouch: And what, he ignored you?

Christopher Herrmann: No, he told me to do it, but I forgot.

I’ve been preoccupied.

Mouch: Weren’t you and Cindy using protection?

Christopher Herrmann: We’ve got four kids, Mouch. I was counting

on my sperm being too tired to make the

swim.

Leslie Shay: Well, I’m gonna head inside and check the levels on

the hot chocolate.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, I’m gonna provide back-up.

Otis Zvonecek: You know, my grandmother had this garage door

that was always stuck 2 feet off the ground. So one

time I tell my brother Nick, I say, “go inside and

grab some butter.”

Peter Mills: What?

Christopher Herrmann: We got a rule. You tell a story that we’ve all

heard a million times, we raise our hand,

you gotta shut up, no questions asked.

Otis Zvonecek: That’s actually impolite and insulting.

Christopher Herrmann: Like that’s on us [laughs]

Peter Mills: I haven’t heard the story.

Joe Cruz: Mills, let’s go.

Otis Zvonecek: Where are you guys going?

Peter Mills: Oh, I asked Cruz to give me driving lessons.

Otis Zvonecek: I-I’m actually next in line to drive 81. You know

that.

Lieutenant?

Matt Casey: Not now, Otis.

Otis Zvonecek: [sighs]

Kid 1 (Roman): Hey, I… I got this dog here, if anyone wants it.

Mouch: Don’t even think about it. Had a dog over at 80 when I was

there. Still have the teeth marks in my ankle to prove it.

Kid 1 (Roman): My dad says he’s gonna throw it in the river if I don’t

get rid of it.

Peter Mills: I’ll take it, or at least I can find a home for it or

something.

[dog whimpers]

Kid 1 (Roman): He likes bacon.

Mouch: Well, there’s that.

Peter Mills: Does he have a name?

Gabby Dawson: Aw, dad, can we keep it? Huh, can we? Can we?

Can we?

Chief Boden: Keep what?

Leslie Shay: The dog.

Matt Casey: [chuckles softly]

[dog yipping]

Peter Mills: The kid’s dad was gonna drown it if we didn’t take it.

Chief Boden: He can’t stay.

I got a call at 67 over at Morningside. They need relief

for the next two shifts.

Otis Zvonecek: I’ll do it.

Joe Cruz: What? That’s the slowest house in the city.

Otis Zvonecek: I’ll do it.

Hadley: Oh, what the hell? You’ve got a medical furlough, Severide.

That means you’re medically required to be out drinking.

Kelly Severide: Yeah, well… this may be more than just a furlough.

I’m moving to Spain with Renee.

Chief Boden: Between your history with us and your father’s

distinguished career, I can get you arson

investigation. Or the academy. Your choice.

Kelly Severide: I appreciate it, Chief, I do. But I’m leaving.

Chief Boden: Kelly… just sleep on it.

Kelly Severide: I have.

Chief Boden: [sighs]

Kelly Severide: Hey. You okay?

Chief Boden: You were right about Ernie. He called, said he was in

trouble, and then he hung up. Right before we

responded to another dumpster fire.

I don’t know where to find him.

Kelly Severide: You tried to help him, Chief.

Chief Boden: Did I?

Kelly Severide: You reached out to him. You invited him in.

Chief Boden: Kelly, I saw him with this man… everything about it

felt wrong.

Kelly Severide: And you handed it over to the police.

Chief Boden: And what have they done, huh? Nothing.

Leslie Shay: Hey, uh, I must have misheard Capp, because he said

something about you going to Spain.

Kelly Severide: Yeah. I was gonna tell you this morning, but, uh… I

missed you.

Leslie Shay: How long have you known this?

Kelly Severide: A day. Maybe two.

[alarm buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Ambulance 61. 425 Lake Street.

Infant shooting.

[engine starts]

[siren blares]

Lady 1: My baby. My baby’s been shot.

[dramatic music]

[door slams]

[gun cocks]

Lady 1: Baby!

Man 2 (Baby): You called the cops?

Lady 1: You’ve been shot, baby.

Put down that… [yells] Aah!

Leslie Shay: Whoa, take it easy.

Man 2 (Baby): Shut up and stay away from me!

I’m not going back to jail.

Gabby Dawson: We’re not the cops.

Man 2 (Baby): This was self defense.

Gabby Dawson: Of course it was.

Man 2 (Baby): You stay where you are.

Leslie Shay: Are you gonna shoot me for helping your mom?

[pounding at door]

Matt Casey: Fire department!

[pounding continues]

Man 2 (Baby): Tell ‘em to stop bangin’!

Tell ‘em to stop, or I’m gonna blow a hole right

through that door!

[taser buzzes]

Man 2 (Baby): [groans]

[thuds]

Matt Casey: Dawson? Shay?

Gabby Dawson: You can’t carry a taser.

Leslie Shay: Yeah, well [breathing heavily] tell that to Baby.

[door breaking]

Gabby Dawson: Baby here, uh, cold-cocked his mom and then

tripped and bumped his head.

Matt Casey: Baby?

Leslie Shay: Where in the code of conduct book does it say you

can’t carry a taser?

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] Page one.

Leslie Shay: Oh, I should totally read that someday.

cutscene

Otis Zvonecek: [exhales]

Mouch: Hey, Otis, remember to bring some reading materials with

you to Morningside.

Otis Zvonecek: [sighs]

Christopher Herrmann: 10 bucks you sell more Morningside

T-shirts to tourists than you get calls.

Otis Zvonecek: Wager denied.

Mouch & Herrmann: [laughs]

Peter Mills: Yo, Dawson, hold up.

Hey.

Yo, I’m sorry about before. It’s just that on shift, it’s…

Gabby Dawson: Oh, stop it. It’s all right.

Peter Mills: It’s just… you know that it drives me crazy.

Gabby Dawson: We’ll figure it out.

Text me after you get some rest.

Peter Mills: Sounds good.

[dog yips]

[kissing sound]

Peter Mills: Mm.

[horn honks]

Matt Casey: You wanna get breakfast?

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, sure, absolutely.

[car door shuts]

Leslie Shay: Wow, look at you. You look like you’re about to pop.

Clarice: Yeah, a few more weeks.

Leslie Shay: Thank you. I heard if you eat eggplant, the baby comes

right out.

Clarice: I moved out.

Leslie Shay: What?

Clarice: I told Daniel it wasn’t gonna work… ever.

And I, uh… I moved back in with my parents.

Leslie Shay: Wow.

Clarice: Yeah, I know. [chuckles] I mean, it’s exactly where I

imagined my life at 30, back with Barb and Gene in

my room…

Leslie Shay: [chuckles]

Clarice: ... with the No Doubt poster.

Leslie Shay: Right.

Clarice: Yeah.

Leslie Shay: And don’t forget pregnant.

Clarice: Well, I know what you’re thinking.

Leslie Shay: What’s that?

Clarice: That the way I live my life finally caught up with me.

Leslie Shay: That’s not what I’m thinking.

Clarice: And you would be right.

Anyway, um… I just came back ‘cause I wanted to say

thank you again. And you were a friend to me when I did

not deserve one.

Leslie Shay: Forget Gene and Barb. Stay with me.

Clarice: No… that’s not why I came back.

Leslie Shay: No, end of discussion.

cutscene

Gabby Dawson: And you don’t wanna get of the wrong side of my

abuela. Trust me. She’s got this look that she’ll

throw you when she’s aggravated.

[Matt & Gabby laughs]

Gabby Dawson: That means tread lightly.

Matt Casey: Yeah, I can see that.

I’m gonna speak up for my mom at the hearing today.

Gabby Dawson: And how does your sister feel?

Matt Casey: Like I’m a traitor.

She’s spoken against my mom’s release every year,

which is all the board needs to hear to deny parole.

Gabby Dawson: Ugh. That’s a tough one.

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Gabby Dawson: You want me to come with you today?

Matt Casey: Ah, you never know how long these things are gonna

go. It could be a few hours before we even get inside.

Gabby Dawson: I’m coming.

[mug clanks]

cutscene

Receptionist: Chief, you have a call. It sounds urgent.

Okay, stand by. Here he is.

Chief Boden: This is Chief Boden.

Ernie: I’m in trouble.

Chief Boden: Ernie, where are you?

Ernie: Uncle Ray makes me do it.

Chief Boden: I know. Just tell me where you are.

Ernie: He’d kill me if he knew I called you.

Chief Boden: I will not let that happen.

Ernie, please let me help you.

Ernie. Just tell me where you are.

Ernie: In-in front of some store on South Halsted and Marquette.

Chief Boden: Okay. Don’t move. I am on my way.

[car door shuts]

Chief Boden: Ernie?

Ernie!

cutscene

Orthopedic Doctor (Dr. Doriot): We take parts of bone and

cartilage from one vertebra and

fuse it onto the next. And then

we inject your own platelets

into the area, which increases

healing. Recovery time could

be four weeks instead of one

year.

Kelly Severide: How come I didn’t hear about this from my other

surgeon?

Orthopedic Doctor (Dr. Doriot): This isn’t covered by an HMO.

It’s experimental. I’m not gonna lie

to you. There are real risks here,

including partial paralysis.

Kelly Severide: Partial paralysis?

Renee Royce: I am so sorry. I, um… I guess I didn’t realise how

risky it was.

Kelly Severide: Hey.

If I’m gonna risk anything, I’ll risk it on you and me

in Madrid.

[kissing sound]

cutscene

Parole Board Member: Is there anyone present who would like to

speak either on behalf of or in opposition

to Nancy Annalyn Casey’s request for

parole?

Matt Casey: Yes. My name is Matthew Casey. I’m Nancy’s son.

I’d like to speak, please.

Parole Board Member: In four years, you’ve never spoken before,

Mr. Casey. Why now? What’s changed?

Matt Casey: Well, uh, when I was seven, I, uh, I stole a baseball mitt

from a sporting goods store. I got caught, and the

owner wanted to call the cops, teach me a lesson.

But my mom came down there and, uh, got him to

agree to let me work off the cost of the mitt by

sweeping his floor. And when my sister crashed the

family car, my dad wanted to kick her out of the house.

But my mom talked to him, worked it out where

Christie could work off the repairs by cleaning dad’s

office. What I’m-I’m trying to say is that my mom

understood punishment, but she also understood

forgiveness. She did a horrible thing that she regrets

terribly, and she’s paid the price with 15 years of her

life. But now it’s time for forgiveness, from all of us.

We lost both our father and our mother that day.

So, uh… so what’s changed? Well, I have.

I forgive her now.

Parole Board Member: Okay. Thank you, Mr. Casey.

Matt Casey: Thank you.

Parole Board Member: Would anyone else like to speak, either for

or in opposition to Ms. Casey’s possible

parole?

All right, then, Ms. Casey.

We’ll start with a simple question.

�� Do you feel remorse for your crime?

Nancy Casey: Yes. Yes. Yes, I do… every day.

cutscene

Otis Zvonecek: [exhales] Hey there, fellas. I’m, uh, Brian Zvonecek.

I’m relieving here for the next couple shifts.

cutscene

[door shuts]

[keys clank]

Kelly Severide: Hey.

I said hey.

I know what you’re doing.

Leslie Shay: Oh, yeah? What am I doing?

Kelly Severide: You’re not pissed at me because I didn’t tell you

first. You’re pissed off because you don’t want

me to go.

Leslie Shay: Clarice is moving in. She’s gonna need your key.

cutscene

Otis Zvonecek: [chuckles] This guy, he has a heart attack coming

down the stairs.

[laughter]

Otis Zvonecek: I mean, his heart stops and everything.

Man 3: I think I heard about that.

Otis Zvonecek: Yeah, yeah. And we had to put the paddles on him

and… [clicks mouth] he pops right back up, like,

no big deal, you know? I mean, he completed

training. I think he’s over at 94.

Man 3: [laughs]

Otis Zvonecek: Gave him the nickname “Dead Frank.”

[laughter]

Man 3: I know where I heard that story before. You’re the guy with

the podcast.

Man 4 (Redhead): We love that podcast.

Otis Zvonecek: Herrmann, right?

He put you up to this.

Man 5 (Grey hair): No, nobody did.

Otis Zvonecek: [chuckles]

[alarm chimes and blares]

(Over PA): Truck 67, assist the invalid. 32… [continues indistinctly]

Man 5 (Grey hair): Hey Brian.

Otis Zvonecek: Yeah?

Man 5 (Grey hair): Why don’t you drive?

Otis Zvonecek: Seriously?

Man 5 (Grey hair): Yeah, I’m getting tired of it. Been looking for

someone to take over.

[truck door shuts]

[engine starts]

cutscene

Christopher Herrmann: It’s weird without Otis here. Who am I

suppose to jag?

Joe Cruz: Don’t look at me.

Christopher Herrmann: And Severide’s gone too. I mean, he’s as

cocky as they come, but if you were lying

in the street, he’d give you the shirt off

his back.

Mouch: If you’re lying in the street, why do you need his shirt?

Christopher Herrmann: You know what I mean.

Matt Casey: How many times I gotta tell you to stay out of the first

watch crate, Mouch?

Mouch: They tempt me with these marshmallows, Lieutenant.

What am I supposed to do?

Matt Casey: Give me one.

Hey.

Gabby Dawson: Hey. You hear anything?

Matt Casey: Not yet. It could be a couple days.

Gabby Dawson: Fingers crossed.

Matt Casey: Thanks.

Christopher Herrmann: Chief, maybe we should rethink the dog,

eh? Time 51 got one. Plus, it would

really piss off Mouch.

Mouch: No way.

Christopher Herrmann: Peter Mills, where is that dog?

Peter Mills: Um, I found a home for it.

Christopher Herrmann: You did?

Mouch: Thank God.

[alarm buzzes & chimes]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Ambo 61, Engine 51. 78 Racine, Apartment fire.

Chief Boden: That’s Ernie’s house.

[sirens wailing]

[horn honking]

Chief Boden: Ernie?

Ernie?

I’m going up.

Matt Casey: Okay.

Spread out!

Chief Boden: Ernie!

Ernie, call out!

Ernie!

[ceiling collapsing]

Chief Boden: [grunts]

Ernie!

Ernie, call out.

Ernie.

Ernie!

[half gasp half wail]

Ernie? Can you hear me?

I’ll get you out of here. Come on. Stay with me.

[grunts]

I’m gonna get you out of here, Ernie.

[grunting]

Okay, stay with me. Stay with me.

Shay.

Ernie. Ernie.

[somber music]

cutscene

Christopher Herrmann: [sighs]

Mouch: [grunts]

[dog whimpering]

Mouch: What is that?

[dog continues whimpering]

Peter Mills: I lied. Uh, I… I-I couldn’t find anyone to take her. And

I couldn’t bring her to my place.

Sorry, guys.

Joe Cruz: Oh! Come here [murmuring to dog]

[dog yipping]

Leslie Shay: [murmuring to puppy]

[kissing sounds]

Joe Cruz: [whispers] Hey. Do you wanna say hi to Chief?

[dog whimpering]

[cell phone ringing]

Matt Casey: Hello?

Yeah.

[whispers] The parole board.

Joe Cruz: I-I know you like my nose but you can’t…[murmuring]

[whispers] Look at that. What’s that? Who’s that?

Mouch: [laughs] Ahh, jeez.

Fine. What are we gonna call this mutt?

Christopher Herrmann: Pouch.

Mouch: Huh?

Christopher Herrmann: Half pooch, half couch.

[laughter]

Mouch: Peter Mills, we’re gonna need some bacon.

Peter Mills: Right.

Matt Casey: Thank you.

Gabby Dawson: And?

Matt Casey: They granted her parole.

Gabby Dawson: Hey, congratulations.

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Gabby Dawson: What?

Matt Casey: Well, there is one condition. She has to move into a

stable household. Meaning with me.

Gabby Dawson: Oh.

cutscene

[door breaks]

[door opens and closes]

[siren blares]

[tires screeching]

[horns honking]

[siren blaring]

[tires screeching]

[car crashes]

[Boden & Ray grunting]

Chief Boden: Come on! Come on!

Man 6 (Raymond Martin): [grunts & groans]

[tire iron clatters]

[sirens approaching]

Chief Boden: A little boy? A little boy?

Police Officer: Step back! We got it.

cutscene

[truck beeping]

Otis Zvonecek: [exhales]

Man 5 (Grey hair): Nice work

Otis Zvonecek: [chuckles]

Man 5 (Grey hair): These, uh, these older houses are a tight

squeeze.

Otis Zvonecek: Thanks.

You know, I come from a family of doctors. But the

first time I saw a firefighter jump into a truck and

roar off, man, I knew I wasn’t going to medical

school. I wanted to drive a fire truck [chuckles]

Man 5 (Grey hair): [chuckles] Your parents okay with that?

Otis Zvonecek: Nope, but I am.

Man 5 (Grey hair): [laughs] Good for you.

Hey, you know, this, uh, spot in our house is

gonna be permanent. You should put in for a

transfer.

Otis Zvonecek: What, are you serious?

Man 5 (Grey hair): Hell, yeah. I’ve laughed harder this week than the

last two years.

[both chuckles]

Man 5 (Grey hair): You should see this place in the summertime.

Girls everywhere, all wanting a picture with

Chicago’s finest [chuckling] It’s the best house

in the city.

cutscene

Man 7 (District Chief Arend): Public defender is saying battery,

citing you personally and the

department at large.

Chief Boden: If they wanna have that discussion…

Man 7 (District Chief Arend): You’re having it now.

Chief Boden: I apprehended a suspect in an arson and murder

case, a suspect with an APB out on him who the

CPD did not have enough manpower

[overlapping] to stop him from killing a little boy.

Man 7 (District Chief Arend): Do you wanna go back and take the

cop’s test? Because it’s not too late.

Man 8 (District Chief Steve Walker): Ah, come on now, Wallace.

Chief Boden: No, no, no, no. These are my bugles. I’m going on

furlough. When I get back, you can tell me if I should

put ‘em back on again.

[bugles clattering]

Otis Zvonecek: Chief, I just wanna let you…

Chief Boden: Not now.

cutscene

[car door closes]

Kelly Severide: I’m a stupid ass. I know.

Leslie Shay: Yup.

Kelly Severide: And I’m sorry. I should’ve… I should’ve camped

outside your room to tell you first.

You’re my best friend, Shay.

Leslie Shay: Next time…

Kelly Severide: Hey...

Leslie & Kelly: [laughs]

Kelly Severide: No next time, I swear.

Leslie Shay: I’m glad you’re getting yourself healthy, even if it

means I have to let you go.

Kelly Severide: No one’s letting go.

Leslie Shay: Come on, let’s go in. I’m cold.

Kelly Severide: All right, yeah.

Leslie Shay: [chuckles] Hey, you know, tasers are totally against the

rules.

Kelly Severide: I know that. It’s page one.

[door opens]

Leslie Shay: All you [chuckles]

All: Surprise!

[cheers and applause]

Kelly Severide: You…

Hey.

Renee Royce: Hi.

[kissing sound]

Capp: I’m not sure what we’re gonna do without you.

Kelly Severide: [exhales] Cheers.

[background chatter & laughter]

Clarice: Hey. Look, I…I promise you that I understand, you know,

this is just an opportunity for us to be roommates.

Nothing more…

[kissing sounds]

Clarice: What was that?

Leslie Shay: I love you. I’ve always loved you.

Clarice: I love you too.

[kissing sounds]

Gabby Dawson: Mm. You sure you wanna do this, Peter Mills?

Peter Mills: I’ve been waiting all day, baby.

Gabby Dawson: Wanna sneak out of here?

Peter Mills: Your place, ten minutes?

Gabby Dawson: You’re on.

Peter Mills: Mm…

[laughter]

Firefighters: Kick flips?

No, you.

[laughter]

Otis Zvonecek: I’m telling you, guys, it wasn’t that bad.

[audio muffled, fading]

Renee Royce: Sorry, have… have you seen Kelly?

Matt Casey: Yeah, he’s over there.

Or, was…

Renee Royce: Oh.

[engine turns off]

[distant laughter]

Man 9 (Benny Severide): So it’s 15 degrees, and there was this

homeless guy that used to hang

around in the alley behind the house.

And we find him, and he is frozen

solid. I mean, he’s a block of ice. So

I call the morgue and I say, “Listen.

We got a frozen dead guy, and you

gotta come and pick him up.” And

they say, “Well, he can’t just be

dead. He’s gotta be warm and dead

before we’ll come and get him.” So

we dragged the homeless guy

across the apparatus floor, and we

wait for him to thaw out, for about

ten hours. Anyway, eventually he

got warm enough and dead

enough to actually be dead, so they

came and got him.

[chuckles]

Kelly Severide: You still telling that one?

Man 9 (Benny Severide): Well, I’ll be damned.

Kelly Severide: Guys. Hey.

Man 10: How you doing?

Kelly Severide: Dad.

Man 9 (Benny Severide): You want something to eat?

Kelly Severide: Oh, nah. I’m good, thanks.

Uh… [deep breath] I’m leaving the CFD.

Man 9 (Benny Severide): What happens when you and this Renee

get tired of each other, and you find

yourself in some godforsaken country

with nothing to show for it but a

pension?

Kelly Severide: I don’t know. This doesn’t look so bad.

Man 9 (Benny Severide): Trust me. You’re worried about partial

paralysis? How about full paralysis?

‘Cause that’s what this is [exhales]

There’s no replacing Rescue Squad… but

you already know that. That’s why you

came out here, so I could talk you out of

going.

Look, I know I wasn’t there for you like I

could’ve been or should’ve been, and

I’m… three wives removed from your

mother and I-I-I’m in no position to give

you advice. But you’re scared, Kelly.

And you know why you’re scared?

‘Cause you’re not ready for this. Man 10: Benny, you ready?

Kelly Severide: She’s counting on me. I promised her.

Man 9 (Benny Severide): She’ll get over it.

Disappoint anyone. Hell, disappoint

everyone, but don’t ever disappoint

yourself.

It’s good to see you.

Kelly Severide: You too, pop.

[exhales]

[background chatter]

[distant siren]

cutscene

Kelly Severide: Hey.

Renee Royce: What’s going on?

[car door closes]

Kelly Severide: I’m uh… I’m gonna get the surgery.

Renee Royce: Oh, Kelly, come on. It’s… it’s just not worth the risk.

I mean, we’ll do it right. You’ll come with me. You’ll

recuperate in Mad…

You wanna stay.

I should’ve known [chuckles]

I was that close to not even telling you. And you

would’ve come with me to Madrid. And… the sky

would’ve been the limit for us.

Kelly Severide: Hey, hey. What you did might be the most important

thing anyone’s ever done for me.

Thank you.

Renee Royce: Well, uh… I guess now we’re even.

Kelly Severide: Yeah. We’re even.

[kissing sounds]

[car door shuts]

cutscene

[knocks at door]

Chief Boden: Shonda.

Lady 2 (Shonda): Wallace.

Chief Boden: Can I please see Jimmy?

Lady 2 (Shonda): No. He’s not your son.

Chief Boden: The hell he ain’t. I raised him from the time he was

three. Never used the word stepson. Not once.

I need to see him.

[dog barks]

Chief Boden: Hey Ralphie. How are you? I miss you, boy.

Kid 2 (Jimmy): Dad.

[murmurs emotionally]

cutscene

[taps on glass]

Doctor: You ready?

Kelly Severide: Yeah. I’m ready.

- end -

Definitions:

Orthopedics = Is the branch of surgery concerned with conditions involving the musculoskeletal system – the bones, joints, ligaments, tendons, and muscles.

Propane = Propane is a form of LPG (Liquefied Petroleum Gas). Propane is a gas but can be liquefied and stored in a propane gas tank. It is commonly used as a fuel in domestic and industrial applications and in low-emissions public transportation.

Abuela = “Grandmother” in Spanish.

HMO = A Health Maintenance Organisation (HMO) gives access to certain doctors and hospitals within its network. A network is made up of providers that have agreed to lower their rates for plan members and also meet quality standards. Care under a HMO plan is covered only if you see a provider within that HMO’s networks.

APB = All-points bulletin (APB) is a general bulletin broadcast to alert law-enforcement officers over a wide area that someone (e.g. a suspect) or something (e.g. a vehicle) is being actively sought in connection with a crime.

Bugles = Orders are given to the troops by officers, through the use of a large brass device that resembles a megaphone. These were very ornate brass horns. They were commonly called “bugles”.

14 notes · View notes

chemiste · 4 years

Text

Foresight ~ ch. 9

a/n : cool cool, heres ch 9, ALSO i will be posting y/n’s assignment when it’s all finished so that’ll be a couple chapters later, that’s why you’re not seeing certain pics rn. love y’all, please talk to me if you want id love to hear what y’all have to say, any thoughts theories about the story? whats going on in your life? tell meeeeeeeeee!!!!!

mah masterlist

“Guys, we’ve got a problem.”

Mitch said from the main section of the tour bus. You had been trying to get a few more hours asleep, but the soft rumble of the tour bus was changed to screams from outside the bus.

You moved your curtain back and stepped out into the bedroom compartment, rubbing the sleep from your eye.

“What is that…”

The words died on your tongue as you looked through the blackout veils in the living room. It was crazy. It was like all of Denmark was there, crowding around the Royal Arena, excitedly anticipating Harry’s arrival.

“So this is what 10,000 people looks like huh.”

You said, still a bit gobsmacked. You looked around at who was in the main compartment and saw Harry sitting on the left couch.

You plopped down beside him and threw your legs up onto the remaining part of the couch, leaning arm again his chest. With his right hand, the poster had been scrolling through Instagram, looking at all the postings from fans for tonight.

On the other couch, Jeff was on a call chatting with someone about the new people barrier they’d need to get through.

He ended the call, “The good news is our other buses were able to get here early enough and unload in the back before the crowd started. The problem now is getting us through the crowd, I called ahead and we’re gonna turn around and take an SUV in to try and be more inconspicuous. Everyone, what you need for the show cause we wont be able to get back to the tour bus till afterwards.”

The group complied and went into the back rooms as the tour bus exited the Arena parking, heading to the secret location where you all would switch vehicles for attempt number two.

You straighten your duvet out, having not pulled out anything during the drive so you didn’t have anything to pack. You glanced over to Harry who was shoving a stray piece of paper that had scribbles all over them into a journal that seemed overstuffed. “

Are those lyrics?” You asked, slinging your backpack onto your shoulder. His eyes looked up at you briefly and then he nodded.

“Yeah, uh, just writin’ whenever I can yeh know?”

You put your shoes back on and headed into the living compartment.

“Alright everyone off and into the SUV pronto so any fans that decided to follow the tour bus don’t intercept our exit.”

Jeff said, taking the keys from the rental man who handed them to him.

You all piled into the SUV, you and Clare in the very back, then Hélène, Harry squished in the middle, Sarah, and then Mitch with Jeff in the front.

“I’m a big boy why I’m I the one sitting ‘ere in the middle!”

He whined as the SUV pulled out onto the road, making his knees hit the console.

You laughed and pulled out your phone for a quick picture, but you weren’t fast enough as Harry snatched your mobile device out of your hand.

“Hey! Give that back you, thief!”

“Nope! I think we need som’ pictures of you know junebug,” the poster cackled, turning the flash on and leaning into Sarah’s lap to take a bunch of snaps of you crawling from the backseats.

You groaned and put your hand up to block the flash dots that had been clouding your eyes.

“Come on! Do better than that Y/N!”

He teased, you responded by changing you hand briefly to flip him off and then to a rocker hand sign. Satisfied, the boy handed you your phone back, that stupid smirk donned on his face.

Cute stupid smirk…

Huh? Psh, yeah whatever.

“Okay crouch everyone, we’re pulling in.”

Jeff called as he pulled into the Arena parking lot again. You watched as the SUV got through easier than last time. You could see from your crouched position some of the fans lined up, or walking together to the doors.

Some were holding signs, others had matching t-shirts. They all seemed so elated to be here, and it made you proud of Harry.

You looked up and saw Harry doing what you had been, watching his fans. A small smile grew on his face and you could see how truly appreciative he was of his fans.

Finally the SUV got to the back gate where the other tour buses had been stationed, Jeff rolled down his window and gave the man at the booth his pass. After it had been approved, the gate opened and allowed the SUV in, closing immediately as some fans tried to slip through but to no avail.

“One more time everyone, 3, 2, 1.”

The beats for Carolina started to play, and the band started up again, Harry standing in the middle of the stage still in sweats, hanging not changed yet.

It had been a few hours since they were able to get and now were just adjusting a few things for the performance like always.

You were sitting on the stage off to the side, laptop in lap. Those assignments didn’t do themselves. You were going through your photos, trying to see if any recent pictures matched some of the words you needed for your last assignment.

After that you head back to the dressing room, having time to kill as the band gets dressed and pampered. You decide to check in with Maggie and give her an update.

It was March 30th now, you were in Barcelona sprinting through the aisles as Harry performed Kiwi.

The concerts had been going well, Norway and Germany were beautiful but it all went by so fast that your memories seemed blurry.

But you remembered your off day yesterday with crystal-like perspective.

“Harry, look at this field oh my god have you seen anything more beautiful!?!”

You and Harry had taken the day off to find something of nature since the only thing y’all had been around the previous week were cement walls.

The both of you stumbled along a lovely meadow in a hill dip about an hour away from Barcelona, where he would be performing tomorrow night. The grass was tall and vivacious, little purple and pink flowers sprang up in between the stems.

H turned to you with a smile that resembled a kid on Christmas Day. He looked absolutely soft and sweet, wearing that blue and white striped hoodie. You matched him slightly, wearing a white sweater and blue skirt complemented by thigh-high boots to keep your legs warm.

“Woohoo!”

He yelled as he ran straight into the flowery abyss and flopped into the ground. You trotted over to him, laughing and snapping photos of the hill line and the fluffy white clouds.

He giggled and you looked down to the boy underneath you. You took a picture of him and smiled.

Scanning back through the photos on the small screen, you think if you’d been a least a foot farther from him you wouldn’t have heard what he said quietly.

“You’re very pretty yeh know.”

You snapped up to look at him, a bit surprised from the compliment.

“Oh, thank you. You are too.”

He crinkled his nose at your response, groaning and then sitting up enough to wrap an arm around your was it and drag you down to his level.

“Harry!”

You scream, sorta laughing as your fall was buffered by the flower bed. The sky was lovely, a bright blue. Clouds were scattered around and the wind slightly pickup, making you shiver.

“Come ‘ere.”

He said softly, pulling you rest your head don his chest. You held your camera up to his face, showing him a picture.

“This one is gonna be for ‘silly’.” You said.

“It’s perfect.”

You thought so too.

A cheer shook you out of your trip down memory lane.

Right, the concert.

You gripped you camera in your hand and scanned the stage to find the boy you were suppose to be taking shots over.

Or off of…

Stop it Y/N!

He looked good, decked out in the black and white patterned suit.

“ ‘ve ripped man trousers!” You heard him say with a laugh.

You rolled your eyes, this boy. After a few more songs, he starts up Anna and you laugh. Oh this song.

You’re taking photos, bopping slightly to it, hey it’s a catchy song!

But then he turns to you and gives you a smile.

Oh no.

The lights shining off his suit and hair make him seem like he’s sparkling, and that smile just made your heart stop.

It’s like you’re fully seeing him in a different light and it’s breathtaking.

Oh, fuck, maybe I do like him.

You’re pacing in your hotel room.

Slightly freaking out.

“I like him! I can’t believe it, Maggie was right I’ve got a stupid crush! I can’t— this, how?”

You talk to yourself, trying to figure out when it all added up for you. The little touches, him saving you from the crowd that one time, sneaking out and touring Amsterdam, even the way you interacted with each other was different from the rest of the band.

“I’m—I’m totally overthinking this right? There’s no way…”

You’ve never felt this way before, the heart races when he smiles, the look he gives you after a laugh, when you hug or snuggle into him on the couch, how his cologne smells making you feel at home and loved.

You stopped pacing.

“Oh my god, am I in love with Harry Styles?!”

Yes, yes I am.

You turn, gobsmacked and flop onto your bed.

What am I gonna do…

You’re in the terminal in at 5am, waiting for the flight to Milan.

It’s dead quiet sans the occasional custodian worker of business group getting off an all-night flight.

You’re standing at a sunglass kiosk, trying on different pairs in the little round mirror set up. The band is across the wide walkway sitting on various chairs waiting for the flight.

Maybe or maybe not you’d been slightly avoiding Harry since the night of your little proclamation. During the Madrid show, you’d opted out of taking photos, instead going out to look around the city and maybe pick up enough stupid tourist gifts to make you forget.

Thankfully Harry didn’t seem to notice your sudden change in moods, unfortunately it meant he was coming over to you right now and you couldn’t stop it.

“Like any of the sunnies?”

He asked, grabbing a pair and popping them on and making a funny face at. You shrugged, not answering.

Oh great, now he seemed to have picked up on your inner turmoil when you didn’t speak, taking the glasses off and putting them back in their rightful place.

“You okay?”

He asked quietly, concern coating the edge of his words.

You nodded, pushing back some of you hair behind your ear and turning to the small mirror to look at your reflection.

“ ‘m just a bit tired.” You answered, hoping that would be enough for him.

He nodded, thinking for a moment then holding up his phone.

“Picture?”

You smiled, “H it’s 5am I don’t look the nicest for a picture right now”

“Oh come on Y/N you’re gorgeous any time of day.”

Not helping.

“Fine fine, but I don’t want to be seen.”

He opened the camera and pointed it into the mirror, “Okay then how are we gonna take this picture love?”

You wrapped you hands around his head to cover his eyes, “Like this goofball.”

He smiled, “You’re the goofball right now.”

After throwing up a peace sign with his spare hand, he snapped the picture and then checked to see if it was good.

“I like, ‘m gonna post it.”

You yawned and nodded to his statement.

Guess I wasn’t fully lying, I am pretty tired.

“H, we’re ready to go.”

Mitch called, you both grabbed your suitcases and rejoined the group, following the flight attendant into the small plane.

You were first in line down the aisle and quickly found a seat in the back of the plane, hoping Harry would opt to sit with someone else a few seats in front of you, after all there were only about 20 seats in the plane, hopefully he’d pick not pick the one right next to you.

I’ve got too much to think about, I might burst into flames if I have to smell his vanilla spice cologne for the next two hours.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Fuck.

“Yeah sure.”

He slid into the seat with ease, tucking his bag under the chair. You curled into the corner of your seat, trying to put a small bit of distance between you but not too much to make him worried.

Harry turned to look at you, propping his left elbow up on the squishy armrest between the two of you.

“I remember the first tour we did fo’ 1D, got ’t was hectic. Stupid, teenagers on the road wit’ too much money an’ not enough discipline. The first month was crazy, all of us high on the feelin’ of performing once we’d gotten over the stage fright, then immediately going t’ a new town, meetin all these people, ’t was a dream. But then a couple months later we could feel the toll, I don’t think I really realized how exhausted I was from touring until the last night where instead o' celebratin, I went to sleep right when we entered the hotel an’ didn’t wake up till 3pm the next day.”

Harry’s little heart spill didn’t help you too much with your dilemma, might’ve just made you fall for him even more, but you appreciated the fact that he was trying to let you know he knew the feeling.

“Thanks H.”

You mumbled, face squished into the headrest of your seat.

He patted his shoulder, “Come ‘ere, yeh can fall asleep on me.”

Your eyes widen, “Oh, don’t worry about it, I’m fine—“

“Nonsense, come on, you’ll wake up without a creak in yo’r neck yea?”

Fuck it.

“Alright.”

You scooched over and nestled into the British heart-throb, soaking in that damn vanilla cologne you’d sworn to avoid.

He laid his head on top of yours and you made yourself relax, cause you couldn’t deny it, it was pretty comfy like this with him.

Pretty comfy indeed.

During the concert, all you can think about while taking pictures is how the Styles boy might be sweeping you right off your feet.

The little dance moves he makes, so erotic but beautiful in the same way, like he’s in another room dancing on his own in the dark. The way he throws he head back during certain parts of a song, caught up in the moment—

She’s such a good girl,

“Be professional! You’re on job for gods sake,” You muttered to yourself, raising the camera again.

She feels so good,

But then you lower the camera again to watch as he rocked his hips with the beat, jaw-dropping at the sight. You looked up to his face as he turns, that was now looking at you.

He started to strut on the stage, slowing making his way to you, eye contact unwavering.

“I met her once and wrote a song about her

I wanna scream, yeah

I wanna shout it out

And I know she hears me now.”

Hold on, knows?!

He finally let his eyes drift back to the crowd, singing la la las with the rest of the band.

You on the other hand, were having a miniature heat attack.

The gesture was so raw, so real, too real. It’s like he was talking to your soul, reaching out to tell you—

Does this mean he likes me too?

telephone hour for this chapter!

mah masterlist

64 notes · View notes

moonydaydreams · 4 years

Text

𝐣𝐮𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Fandom: It Lives In the Woods

Pairing: MC x Noah, MC x Connor (past)

Words: 7.363 (holy cow)

Summary: Lightning never strikes the same place twice, but a second chance does. Even for someone like Noah Marshall.

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, angst 101 and swearing for dummies

Author’s note: This is my first Choices story and, holy cannoli, this is longer than I intended to be. But nonetheless, this an AU of what could have been had neither Noah or MC sacrificed themselves to take Jane’s place (THIS IS, IN ANOTHER WORD, A FORM OF DENIAL, Y'ALL. CAUSE THAT ENDING WRECKED ME) and Noah fled from Westchester. I’m sorry if the characters seem OOC or the story feels meh. So if you’re digging it or simply detest it, let me know, yeah? thanks!

———————————————————————————–

In a city where the subway stations smell like after-shave and peanut butter and jelly breath smelling college students at nine in the morning, and half of the street names that he still can’t recall to this day, a young man in a beanie, who couldn’t have been more than twenty or twenty-one enters a small 24/7 convenience store with his hands thrust deep inside his coat pockets.

A burly, beer-swilling, 6 feet of a man behind the cashier, elbow-deep in the football magazine in his last season’s Real Madrid jersey, glances up from his reading upon his arrival. His eyebrows narrow.

“Never seen you visiting this late,” Romero comments dryly over the trip-hop music that is playing over the speakers and flicked his eyes back to the magazine. “Did you accidentally shoot your dealer or some shit?“

Romero’s attempt on making small talks with him, albeit as condescending as it sounds, does not fall on deaf ears. But it’s cold outside and he’s hungry and broke, he simply doesn’t have the will to entertain him.

“Shut up. I’m hungry,” replies the young man, stopping by the instant food section. His eyes finding the many varieties of flavors and brands and feels his stomach sick at the amount of artificial food he’s been consuming over the years. It’s like being eight all over again.

“Well, knock yourself out. We just stocked up those crazy spicy Korean ramen you kids can’t seem to stop feeding.” Romero’s face breaks into a mocking grin. “Can’t wait to see you all die from cancer.”

“Instant noodles don’t directly cause cancer on its own, actually.”

Romero burst into laughter. “And how the fuck does a two-bit junkie like you know that, Malcolm?”

The boy’s face involuntarily twitches.

And it isn’t because of how alien the sound when someone addresses him with his fake name or how Romero somehow thinks he has his character all figured out. The thing about living in incognito for years, he’s already become accustomed to those; to prejudices and living up to the persona that people design for him just to inflate their egos and ward them off of his tail in the process. No one wants to affiliate themselves with “the junkie” or “the hot-headed mechanic with suicidal tendencies” and he is more than fine with his solitary.

No. It is the nature of the question that throws him off guard and how his mind all too soon, against his better wishes, refers to her.

Suddenly, he is Noah again. Thirteen years ago at the age of eight, looking out of the window with Jane as they watched a girl about their age in a short tutu dress and combat boots climbing up the oak tree in their backyard to save a distressed kitten.

Their parents saw this, did a double-take, went hysterical and called her parents. He later learned her name was Liz and that she’d just moved into the neighborhood a week ago.

Then he sees Liz again, now a few months after their first encounter, running off to the forest with Jane’s arm linked with hers. He remembers her messy braided hair and freckles multiplied by the sun as they led Noah and the rest of their friends to abandoned ruins they’d somehow stumbled on a week ago.

His memory of her somehow jumps forward. Now, he sees her in a different light, a different vignette. It is from three years ago this time and she was no longer the Liz all knees, elbows and mud on her shoes young girl from his childhood. She was Liz, on the edge of seventeen, her hair nine shades lighter than when she was a kid (she also had bangs now) with a barbed wire bat in her left hand, and a fire axe in the other, but still the same dark-eyed sprite that made his cold, dead heart skip a beat whenever she looked at his way and smiled that smile of hers; the kind that radiated her cheeks and lit up her eyes.

The same light that he watched slowly waning from her eyes when she discovered his ulterior plan.

His heart feels like shattering into smithereens all over again. He doesn’t realize he’s been squeezing on the noodle packet too tight until he hears the contents shatter in his hand.

“A friend told me,” Noah finds himself saying even before his brain can halt it. Staring blankly at the packet, his mouth dropping into a frown.

He can feel Romero’s gaze on him, curious and confused. Shifting between the packet in his hand and his glazed-over expression. Noah, realizing he’s just projected his emotion right out in the open, huffs and throws the squeezed noodle packet into his shopping basket.

Romero clears his throat. “Sounds like quite a friend.”

Noah pretends as if the jig isn’t exactly up and decides to actively ignore the older man. He gets the rest of his needs, holding the last of his composure against slipping and brings his groceries to the cashier, looking down at his feet whenever Romero glances at him in genuine concern.

“Catch ya later, Malcolm,” Romero says as he hands Noah the change. “And, uh… stay safe, you hear me?”

Noah, in return, only nods his thanks, probably a little too curt according to the polite society and leaves.

Outside, thunder begins to roll overhead. Noah eyes the sky nervously. It’s going to rain soon. And hard judging from the way the clouds are moving across the black midnight sky.

Noah rifles for his cigarette pack from his pockets, lights one and begins making his way back to his hellhole of an apartment. Treading slowly through the deserted streets, steering clear from alley-ways and suspicious characters until he can see the window of his apartment.

Then, Noah’s feet skid to a hard stop.

His jaw drops, his cigarette falling unheeded to the ground.

Sitting on the front steps of his apartment building is Liz, swathed in an oversized overcoat, her head leaning onto the railings, she seems to be sleeping.

What in the sweet fuck?

For a good minute, Noah stands stock-still. He simply gazes at his former best friend, nonplussed and borderline panicking. A migraine begins to form in his head. He gazes over his shoulder, watching and waiting for anyone to jump at him from the alley or anything, because there is no way in hell this is not a trap. This can’t be.

He waits and waits, but no one comes out. Confused, Noah looks at her again, his expression inscrutable. If this is not a trap, then this must be a cruel dream the universe pulls on him for all the wrongdoings he has committed in his life. That, or Noah must have tragically died on his way back home and ascended to heaven.

But then, if this is heaven, why is he here?

Eventually, Noah kneels before her. He reaches his hand out to her, hesitating mid-move and touches her shoulder.

“Liz?” he gives her shoulder a gentle shake. “Liz, wake up.”

She does. Slowly, her eyes flutter open, bleary and brown, and meets his gaze for the first time in three years. Noah feels like his breath stuck in his throat.

“Noah?” Liz blinks sleepily, twice, then yawns into the back of her hand. “What time is it?”

He glances at his phone. “A quarter past two.”

Liz’s brows furrow. “Huh. What were you doing out so late?”

“Had to do a supply run.” Noah gestures to the shopping bag in his hand. Then, “Liz, what are you doing here?” he asks, his voice a broken whisper.

Liz doesn’t answer his question, merely wraps her arms around herself, attempting to keep warm and sighs tiredly.

“Noah, can we go inside?” she pleas, instead. Desperation fuelling her voice. “I’m tired and cold and I…” she trails off.

Consideration flashes in Noah’s eyes for a moment. The logical part of his head insists for him to take her to the nearest train station and send her off back to Westchester. It’s the right thing to do. Considering that he’s been laying low for years now, the last thing he needs to add to his ongoing headache is for the police to suspect that she’s an accomplice.

But he’s never been the wiser one.

So, he takes her gloved hand and helps her to stand and, after giving one last look at their surroundings, of course, ushers her inside the apartment building.

Neither says anything as they make their way to the staircase, as they venture through the grimy hallway where the dim and shadowed lights overhead following their every step like vultures and past the occupied doors where a loud, sexual moan comes from behind one of them.

She doesn’t make any comment about the awful state of the place he lives in, while he simply doesn’t have the capacity to be embarrassed because everything happens so sudden, Noah himself is still second-guessing if any of this is real.

Finally, they stop by his door. Noah produces the key from his wallet when he hesitates, remembering the state of the room the last time he left it.

“A bit of warning, though…” He rubs his neck, embarrassed. “it’s pretty messy inside.”

“It’s fine.”

Noah turns the key and eases the door open.

The rain has started to pour. Noah turns the side lamp on and takes off his coat, his groceries on top of the kitchen counter. He watches as Liz, as if in a daze, tosses her coat and gloves to his bed and walks towards the direction of the window. A hand against the windowpane, the flare of the street lamp outside illuminating her features in the dimness, she silently watches as the rain falls on the pavement. Lost somewhere in the tangled cobwebs of her thoughts.

And it occurs to Noah that she is no longer Liz, on the edge of seventeen with a barbed wire bat in her left hand, and a fire axe in the other. She is Liz, older, with circles under her eyes, the world on her shoulders and a few pounds lighter than he remembers, but still the same dark-eyed sprite and with the pale shades of haired girl that he yearns to wrap his arms around and tells her how sorry he is for all those years ago, for leaving without saying a proper goodbye and how all these years it is her that keeps him going through every day and drives him insane at the same time.

But he can only remain in his place and forces to quell his desire to do the aforementioned. Because Noah’s pretty sure that privilege is long gone the moment his betrayal came to light. Even to be standing in the very room with her is a crime, yet here they are.

Here she is.

“Liz?“

“Yeah?”

“Have you, uh,” his gaze finds the ramen packets, suddenly feeling inspired. “Have you eaten anything?”

She is silent for a while. “No.”

“I’m making ramen, you want some?”

“Okay.”

With that, Noah rolls up his sleeves, takes two eggs and a few vegetables from the fridge and begins to work. He ditches the salty packet of MSG and makes his own broth while at the same time, mincing the garlic and green onion and grating the ginger. By the time he sautées the aromatics, Liz makes a beeline from the window and hops onto the counter, watching him distractedly as he continues cooking.

She stays silent and so does he. Despite the lack of words, everything feels strangely… domestic? Under different circumstances, Noah can easily get used to this; him cooking for her, with her becoming his taste tester whenever he’s experimenting with new recipes he finds on the internet and simply impresses her on a daily basis. Yeah, he can definitely get used to that.

Ten minutes passed, Noah then moves the ‘upgraded ramen’ to the bowls and serves one to her. The taste will probably pale in comparison to the one that her mom used to make, yet it earns him her first smile of the night, albeit small and closed-mouthed, it’s still a smile nonetheless.

He grabs two cans of beer from the fridge and moves onto the couch with her. They finish their meal within minutes, still in silence. For a moment, the only sound that encompasses the room is the rain and his next-door neighbor who has the TV going in full-blast. That asshole.

Noah reaches out for a cigarette pack from the coffee table, dexterously flicks his wrist so a single one pops halfway out of the carton. He casts her a sidelong glance.

“Do you mind if I…?” he trails off, gesturing to the cigarette.

Liz’s stare zeroes on the cancer stick, scowling, as if she doesn’t approve of this vice of his, but shrugs nonetheless.

“So, how, uh…” Noah clears his throat, gathering his courage. How does he do this? How do you break the ice with your former best friend who you happen to have a crush on for more than a decade and almost murdered because your dead twin sister compelled you to do so without being awkward?

“How are you, by the way?“ he manages to ask behind a plume of smoke.

“I’m doing okay,” she says but in a tone when someone is obviously not okay.

“Just okay?”

“I…” she hesitates. “Yeah, just okay.” Liz lies and manages a weak smile. Noah decides not to press for more information. “Though I’ve been busy these days. I’m trying to finish my dissertation sometime around next year.”

"Already?” And she nods. Noah whistles, obviously impressed. "I’m guessing you did take the English major?”

Liz’s eyes widened slightly. “You remember."

"Yeah.” Noah looks down. Of course he remembers, not when it’s impossible to forget the very idea of Liz Mortimer. “And your old man doesn’t try to fight you for this?”

“Nope. After Ja–” she clamps her mouth shut. “I graduated, let’s just say he had a hard time saying no to me.” She chuckles, but just for a good three seconds and Noah doesn’t have to ask why to know the reason behind her father’s sudden change of heart.

“How about you?” she asks, then shakes her head. “I mean, how are you?” She amends.

Heaven knows I’m always miserable, Liz. But he doesn’t say that. “I’m okay, too, I guess."

"Just okay?” Liz parrots his own words at him and he smiles, the left side of his mouth higher than the right. They may still be painfully awkward to one another, but it feels so good to be talking with her again.

“Nothing new under the sun for me, but I’m thriving. And, um, how’s the others?” a.k.a the bunch of group of friends I hurt.

“They’re alright. Lily started her own video game called Pixie Moon, which I have no doubt will take the world by storm the way Candy Crush did; Ava is writing a book about witch trials; Stace is studying journalism and basically kicking ass; Dan is pursuing psychology; His majesty King Kang himself is playing for the Bighorns; and Lucas, as you can expect, is off to save our earth.”

Noah swallows the information one by one. His face an inscrutable blank. All of his friends somehow have found a place on this earth, they all have moved on except for him, again, who’s still scratching around in the same old hole; his future derived, his past an endless pitfall.

“And Connor?” he asks quietly, when in truth he doesn’t give two-shits about the man. But he knows she does, and Noah loves her too much to let his jealousy dictate his behavior.

Suddenly, her face falls. Teeth chewing nervously on her lower lip. “He's… fine. He’s probably at home now as we speak.“

“And now you’re a long way from home.”

“So are you.”

Noah shakes his head. “Westchester stopped being my home the moment I turned eight.” He sighs forlornly, looks the other way, hands fidgeting. Force of habit. “Liz, as much as I’m glad to see you, but why did you come here?”

“How long have you been staying here?” Liz evades his question as if he never asked it in the first place.

Noah raises an eyebrow, exhales, but decides to play along. “Since August. So that’s two months. Probably, the longest I have ever stayed in one place.”

“Where have you been all this time?”

“Well, there was Utah and Kansas. Then Minnesota for a couple of weeks, but I couldn’t stand the cold and the rest is history,” he keeps his answer as vague as possible, not when he still has no idea the nature of her visit. “Look, why are you here?”

But still, the girl dodges his question. “Why do you–”

Until his patience can’t simply take it anymore.

Noah is all but scoots over to her position until their knees are touching, the cigarette forgotten on the ashtray, and grips her arms firmly. His eyebrows knitted as he takes in her stunned face.

“Liz.” There is a twinge of anger, confusion and desperation in the way he says her name this time. “Why are you here? You know you can’t be here. Goddamn it! If the fucking cops find out that you’re here…” Once he realizes what he is doing, he withdraws his hands as if she’s fire and now he’s burning.

“They won’t. I can assure you that."

"You don’t know that.”

“I know what I’m doing, Noah. Trust me, I wouldn’t have come here if I knew it’s not safe,” Liz replies, her tone doesn’t leave any room for doubts and he knows there is no way to talk his way around it. Not to mention, he trusts her, if there is anyone who can sneak behind authority and get away with it, it has to be her.

Noah shrugs, agreeable, but he isn’t going to let her off so easily.

“How did you find me, anyway?” he questions, reaching for his cigarette and takes a deep, long drag just to spite his throat. He has a feeling he might be smoking his misery away all night by the time she’s left.

The blonde-haired girl shrugs and absentmindedly leans her back against the couch, one arm wraps around her midsection. “It wasn’t easy, actually. But I made some new friends in Pine Springs and one of them is acquainted with the newly-minted Police Chief. Pulled a few strings and here we are.”

“Pine Springs? What the heck were you doing there?”

“It's… a long story. But there were people there needing my help, and in exchange, they helped me track you down. An eye for an eye.”

Lightning suddenly jags across the night sky, briefly illuminating the room, pulling him out of his musings. She jumps at the sound, startled, and instinctively reaches for his hand. Noah freezes at the contact, forgetting how her skin feels like on his or a decent human contact in general. It’s been so long. And somehow he loses the ability to speak, to think.

He definitely doesn’t think when Noah moves his hand under hers, intertwining their fingers together.

Noah feels her head moving, her eyes darting from their joined hands and to his face that turns into a parade of expressions– misery, regret and melancholy. The holy trinity of feelings he’s been bearing for the past three years– for the past thirteen years of his life, actually– and feels her hand squeezing back his.

“Christ, I can’t believe you went all through that shit just to find me,” he croaks, all but on the verge of tears. “And I left you just like that even without saying sorry.”

“Noah…”

“No, let me say it, Liz. I need to say it.” His hands are trembling, his composure this close from crumbling. “What I did was unforgivable. And I know there is nothing in this world that could help me undo the damage I’ve done to you and how I’ll spend the rest of my day regretting it, but regardless, I’m sorry,” he sobs, his whole body is shaking by now.

“I’m so sorry for the nightmare I put you through. I was so blinded by my own volition and revenge for Jane’s death that I hurt you, all of you in the process without giving a single rat’s ass about it.” Noah pauses, wipes his tears with the back of his hand. “I’m a monster, Liz. A selfish, heartless, miserable monster. God, I should have died that night.”

“Hey, hey, look at me.” She plucks the cigarette from his other hand, discards it on her empty bowl and places her other hand on his shoulder. “Noah, look at me,” she says again, her voice like a caress. He looks up. “Don’t say that. You are not a monster. You’re just a byproduct of the pain from losing your sister, loneliness and bad parenting. That doesn’t make you a monster. That makes you human.”

“A normal human being wouldn’t lure his friends into abandoned ruins in the middle of a fucking forest where his sister died and put their lives hang in the balance.”

“No, they wouldn’t, but if there is anything Dan taught me is that people react to loss in different ways.”

Noah groans and pushing himself to his feet. “No, don’t try to find a way to justify this. Didn’t you forget, I could have killed you that night. You! The- the only one who gives a fuck whether I’m breathing or not.” The only one who matters. “If you hadn’t stopped her… God, I don’t even want to go there.“

She gets up from the couch as well. “I’m not justifying anything. Yes, what you did to us was… It was harrowing, it was despicable but I also knew the extent of your agony that drove you to do it. I understand… and like what I said that night in the cave; it’s not your fault. Not exclusively, at least. And I forgive you for it.”

“Liz–”

“No, listen to me, we all made mistake–”

He snorts. “Not on a grand scale like this, I bet.”

“Maybe not. But the fact that you give a shit and beat yourself up for years for what you did, that already speaks a lot,” she says. “You’ve tormented yourself enough. It’s not going to do you anything good. It’s not going to erase anything. What you need to do now is to close that book. Get a new one, write a new story, move on. I have forgiven you, I’m sure the others have forgotten about what happened until someone mentions it, it’s your turn now.”

Her words hit him like a piledriver and for the first time in probably like forever, he does feel slightly better. Even if only an infinitesimal amount and even he may won’t be forgiving himself anytime soon, but still, hearing those words coming from her mouth mean the whole world to him.

“Why did you really come here, Liz?” The question is a tad out of place, but it feels like their previous conversations were made entirely to build up for this.

Her frown melts away, replaced with somewhere between doubt and conflict. He holds her gaze for a minute, undeterred, then she turns her back on him to face the window once more. The suspense gnaws at him, yet still, he bides his time.

“I have something to tell you,” she finally says, keeping her voice low.

“What is it?” He replies rather impatiently. When she seems to be hesitating, he adds, “And don’t beat around the bush, Liz.”

A deep breath, foot taps, a hand clutching at the hem of a buttoned-up dress and another deep breath.

“Connor proposed to me.”

A beat. Then,

“Oh,” and it’s barely audible. And Noah feels like his heart has been torn from his chest, thrown into the ground, drags it through the mud then stomps on it for good measure. And that he feels worse and emptier than he was before she came here. “Congratulations.”

The words that come out of his mouth could have been his, because he can barely hear his own voice in this white noise. He always knew Connor and her were smitten with each other the moment she stepped into the hardware store for the first time, but Noah doesn’t expect it all would extend to marriage.

She looks over her shoulder, half-turned, one eye on him. “I wasn’t finished.”

Noah blinks at her, momentarily confused. “What?”

“I…” her voice wavers. When she turns to face him again, she is pinching the bridge of her nose. Her eyes scrunched up. “Ah, fuck this is never going to be easy. Long story short, I freaked out, made a scene at a restaurant, ended our three-year on-and-off relationship and went here.”

“Wait, what?”

Liz shrugs, guiltily, all Atlas-and-the-weight-of-the-world.

“Yeah,” she, much to his surprise (and concern), chokes a laughter, manic and loud. “Yeah, I did it. I fucked up the longest relationship I’ve ever had and broke my best friend’s brother’s heart because I wasn’t ready, because I’m an idiot.” When she does look at him, her eyes are bright. “Because I’m in love with someone else.”

For a brief, candid moment, Noah’s brows furrow as his mind goes to one of his former friends. Is it Dan? Ava? Or could it be Lucas? Because the last time he saw them together, they were pretty inseparable– although their relationship is strictly platonic as far as he’s concerned. Has that dynamic changed after he left?

Then Noah realizes her eyes are still on him– and quite expectantly, that is, and that’s not… no, that can’t be right, can it?

His demeanor shifts drastically as he stands there, stunned silence. Disarmed by her confession.

He tries to speak, but his jaw won’t shut back to its place; his brains short-circuiting.

“Yes, I have loved you ever since I’ve known you, Noah Marshall,” Liz mutters when he remains silent. He can tell this is something she’s been holding in for a long time. “Even though we hadn’t spoken to each other for years after Jane, there hadn’t been a day that I didn’t think of you. When we finally reconnected three years ago, I wanted to say all these things to you, but..” she smiles wistfully. “Well, shit happened.”

“Why?” Of all the people you could have fallen in love with, why me? What he means to ask.

“Because you understand me like no one else; because you climbed up to my window to bring me your homemade grilled cheese sandwich when I was grounded when we were 8; because you actually listened and showed me that my vulnerability doesn’t always have to be my weakness; because I love the way you wear your beanie like 24/7 and the way you shake my hair whenever I say something stupidly amusing to you. Because it’s you!”

“No.” It’s a denial, it’s an attempt to ward her off from someone like him. It’s a lie. “No, no, no, no, no, Liz, you can’t fall in love with someone who’s-who’s mentally unstable or tried to kill you in the past, that’s like…” he gesticulates wildly. “Crazy! You are crazy!”

“I’m sorry, are you any better?”

“Of course not! But to forgive me is one thing, Liz, to love me, that’s a whole different level of insanity.” Noah begins to pace agitatedly around the room back and forth. “Fuck. I can’t hear this. Not from you.”

“Why not?” He sees the hurt expression on her face. Then interrupts just as soon as he opens his mouth. “Noah, I’m not asking for your answer this instance–heck, I’m not even asking you to reciprocate my feelings, but please don’t invalidate my emotions. Not when I waited for years to say it to you.”

“But this fucking complicates everything!” Noah points out.

“Maybe. Maybe not, but you don’t know that,” she says resolutely, echoing his words from before.

Noah doesn’t say anything in return.

She steps closer and slowly raises her palm to cup his cheek, an attempt to calm the storm within him. His hand grasps her wrist before she can make contact.

“Noah–"

His breathing quickens. Noah swallows and shakes his head.

“Liz, we can’t do this. No matter…” he sighs, his eyes boring into hers. Here he is, again, dangling on the edge of damnation, of what’s right and wrong. It’s wrong, yet he knows that she knows, from the heat and electricity that dance between them, from the pressure of his fingers that tell different stories, that he, too, wants the same thing.

“No matter what, Noah?” She murmurs, staring up at him with hopeful eyes. She really wants him to say it, does she?

He extricates her hand from him, taking steps back, putting as much distance he can from her. “Forget it.”

“Look, Noah, if you feel what I think you’re feeling, then what is it that you’re afraid of?"

Noah whirls around to face her again. "Everything! Can’t you see that if we do this, the world will turn against us?"

“Since when do you care about other people’s opinions?”

“I wasn’t worrying about me.”

"Well, I don’t give a fuck what others or this thrice-damned world thinks!” she exclaims mulishly. “After all we’ve been through, is it so wrong to be selfish, to follow your own heart just once– just once? Is it– don’t you care about what you want?”

“I want-” Noah stops. His hands tugging at his red beanie cap. “Never mind what I want.”

Her voice is quieter now. “What do you want, Noah?”

For an interminable moment, heavy with the promise of both release and regret, he only stares at her. Contemplating his options.

Perhaps loving her shouldn’t be the sin he thought it was, especially when she wants the same thing in return. Although he’s more than aware that he’s the last person in this world who deserves her affection, but deep down, Noah knows that he’ll never forgive himself if he didn’t run the risk now and spent the rest of his life wondering what it felt like instead.

“You.” Always you.

She holds his gaze. “Then have me.”

And as if an unknown force was taking over his body, Noah crosses the distance between them, his free hands cradling her face, drawing her close and kisses her.

It’s like a dam breaking, everything floods out. They do not kiss gently, desperation orchestrating their every move that the world around him grows distant and dim. Twelve years of pining for each other, of secretive glances, of murder attempt and mutual misery and it all leads them to this. His thumb skimming the curve of her throat and feels her pulse leaps. He stops. Worrying if he’s crossed the line.

But Liz grabs the front of his clothes, pulling him even closer– as if they aren’t close enough– and kisses him back with a matching fervor. Her body pressed against his, warm and unfamiliarly familiar, and Noah swears his heart skips when she emits a quiet desperate noise that he happily swallows.

Suddenly, Noah pulls back. “Liz, I’m sorr–” he says breathlessly.

“No, don’t you dare apologize,” she says firmly, her lips still tinged pink from their kiss. “I… I started this.” Her tongue darted out over her lips. “Are you okay with this?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I want this.” Noah’s hands dropped to her waist, his cheeks burned. He’s inexperienced, yes, and it shows, yes, but this is Liz. The last thing she does is to laugh at his face about it. “You?”

“You have no idea.”

His cheeks grow redder. “I’m, uh… now what?"

"I think,” she leans in, tiptoeing, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and playfully says, “I want you to kiss me again.”

Noah grins, more relaxed now knowing he has her consent. “I think I can provide that.”

He let her set the pace this time. Kissing him softly and sweetly, but as equally mind-blowing as the first time before the next thing he knows, they are kissing senselessly once more; the next thing he knows, she swipes her tongue on his lower lip. Drawing a surprised groan from him. His lips instinctively open up to her ministrations and he is rendered weak when Noah feels her warm tongue delves into his mouth. He tries to follow her example, but can hardly navigate through his own mind every time.

He can feel her fingers toying and tugging his beanie off, her nails grazing his scalp and his desire rocketed. And this time, Noah isn’t afraid to act, as his hands on her waist slowly glide upward; from her hips to her ribs, stopping just under her breasts which results in Liz’s breath to hitch in his mouth. His mouth travels down her jaw, the length of her neck, her collarbone.

When he finds himself on the bed, on his back, and Noah has absolutely zero clue how or when he got that way.

He sits up. Without thinking, grabs her hips to pull her onto his lap, hands rough, settling her against him as he tips her head upward and continues his onslaught on her neck. Her hands on his shoulders, coming up to the strands of his hair. Encouraging him, guiding him lower and lower until his mouth reaches her clothed breast.

“Oh my god.” Liz’s eyes closed in pure bliss, caught up in the sensation, and ground her hips against him and, fucking hell, the friction feels so good and erotic and sets his entire being alight that Noah isn’t fast enough to stop the low, rumbling moan that comes from his mouth.

“Fuck,” Noah swears and rolls his hips in response. At this rate, even if he wants to, he can’t hide the evidence of his physical desire, growing hard against her, making her produce these small high-pitched gasps every time his bulge brushes her just right, her pupils blown to hell and fucking fuck.

He is dry humping Liz. Liz. His sister’s best friend. His Achilles’ fricking heel. Good fuck, if Jane was still alive, what would she say about this?

“Noah?” She whispers.

He doesn’t realize he’s been lost in his own thoughts. “Sorry.” Noah mentally clears his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to space out on you back there.”

She stares at him, seemingly unconvinced. “Did I go too far?"

"What? No, no, you are incredible. Don’t worry.” To prove his point, he gives her thigh a distracting squeeze. “Liz, what if I say I want more? What if I say that I want you?”

Liz is quiet for a while. “Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I know the last time we met I said I wasn’t ready for dating and stuff, but it’s you. And if you’re up for it, I’m game, but if you–” Liz chuckles at his stammering. Whispering “You’re fucking adorable” as Noah groans and hides his face on the crook of her neck. “Liz, you’re fucking driving me out of my mind here.”

“Well, I’m game.” Liz leans in and kisses his temple. Noah can practically hear her smile from here. “You know, for someone who seemed adamant on pushing me away, you’re awfully eager.”

He grins, running his finger down her spine until every hair in her body stood up. “Keep teasing me, and you’ll regret it, Mortimer.”

“Bite me, Marshall.”

Noah does bite, literally, on that delicious spot under her ear before flipping her onto her back on the bed, making her giggle like a drunken schoolgirl; making her dress hike up to her thigh, just enough for him to see her underwear. He settles himself atop her, right between her legs. His hips and an unmistakable hardness press firmly against her soft thighs.

This is it, then. The wheels are in motion now and Noah can scarcely believe this is happening.

She props up on her elbows and begins undoing the buttons of her dress with great speed, eyes never leaving his until she pulls him for another searing kiss. Then Liz raises her legs, wrapping them around his waist and rolls her hips once more.

She moans softly, as Noah’s mouth trails wet kisses down her throat, nipping and sucking as he goes, until it finds its way to her nipple. He bucks up into her, growling, as he takes her other nipple in his mouth. His shaky hand makes to drop her legs away from his waist, yanks the hem of her dress upward and dips between her legs, slipping past the waistband of her underwear to touch her that she jolts, gasping and moaning loudly altogether.

Liz writhes, her hands clutching onto his sweatshirt like a lifeline, head tilted back as her hips involuntarily move against his hand, desperate for relief. Noah inserts two fingers, watching with heated gaze for her reaction as he pumps in and out, long and slow, short and fast. Pushes deeper, crooks his fingers a little. The rough pad of his thumb rubbing her clit in fast circles until her moan grows increasingly loud and she comes hard, shattering into Noah’s fingers.

When it’s over, Liz is a panting, limp noodle. She lays there, properly spent, smiling contently at the ceiling with heavy, bedroom eyes. Noah hovers above her, kissing her nose with a newfound satisfaction as he watches her trying to even her erratic breaths.

“Whoa.” She breathes out. “I guess I should have known those hands weren’t made only for kitchen knives.” And lazily wraps her arms around his neck. “Jesus, I’m wasted.”

His teeth gently nibbling her earlobe, his hand teasing her nipple again. “I’m nowhere near done with you.” Fingers trailing down to her warm, still over-sensitive slit again that Liz shudders like a flower. “Not even close.”

“I can’t–” And Noah freezes, thinking if he’s gone too far. “No more foreplay. Fuck me, Noah. Now. Please, I want you.”

In an uncontrolled frenzy, Noah pulls away from her, removes his sweatshirt while Liz assists with the buttons of his shirt. He works on his belt, freeing his member from the tight confines of his jeans and pulls her panties over her knees. Not bothering with the rest of her dress.

They kiss again as he repositions himself above her. Liz’s hand reaches down to grab him, guides the head toward her entrance, her legs once again settling around his waist.

In his head, Noah mentally prepares himself, counts to five, then slides his girth into her. The two groan in unison at the joining.

“Jesus fuck.” Noah’s head flops forward, jaw clenching. He is inside her, and it feels a dizzying kind of spectacular. “Fuck, Liz, you feel so good.”

Below him, a crackling gasp escapes her lips, her mouth drops into a perfect circle as her head falls back to the bed and looking oh so beautiful. Noah begins to rock his hips into her, the strands of his brown hair brushing against her damp forehead, the parts of his brain that enable him to think slowly shut down. His hand wanders to touch every part of her body.

Everything is on fire. Everything feels so fucking good.

“Look at me.” She does, through lidded eyes, lashes heavy with arousal. “Say my name.” Noah never really thought he would be this vocal in bed, but there’s just something about Liz that brings this side of him. “Say it, Liz.”

“Noah,” Liz moans his name, clinging to him like mad, nails raking his back. “Noah, shit. Faster.”

Noah wordlessly obliges, liking the way she thrashes underneath him. Her breaths coming faster, higher so he moves even faster, pounding into her with reckless abandon just to show her how much strength he has. He finds himself growling rather animalistic against her skin, biting her shoulder. Feeling himself drawing closer and closer to the edge. He isn’t going to last any longer.

He puts a hand between them to rub her clit and Liz’s eyes roll back.

“Ooohh, god. N-noah!” she cries out, her words quickly morphed into a desperate wail. "Don’t stop, don’t stop, oh, please!”

Liz is a blubbering mess, screaming against the pillow. It is too much. The combination of his cock fucking her mercilessly and the friction his fingers provided on her sensitive spot is enough to make the girl convulse pathetically on the bed.

When she comes, he follows not long after. Going rigid and groaning gutturally in her ear, emptying himself inside her.

When the ripples have passed, Noah collapses on top of her. Both panting and sweating from… whatever is it that just happened between them. Liz cradles him against her breasts, peppering tired kisses to his hair that is now sticking out wildly in every direction, locking him in her embrace, their left hands intertwining.

They stay like that for a few minutes, in a very much comfortable silence since she first set her foot here before Noah rolls to the side on the bed.

“Holy shit, we just had sex,” he says when he’s regained the power to speak again.

Liz chuckles and turns to face his side, sticking one of her legs between his while he pulls the covers over their forms. “Yep. Though, honestly, I never would have thought we’d end up having sex when I came here tonight.”

“Liz, I didn’t even know you’d be coming over. I can safely say tonight has been one hell of a surprise after another.”

She doesn’t say anything. At least not for a while.

“I hope you know I meant every word that I say to you,” she says kindly. “You’re not the villain in the story, but neither you are the hero. You are human, with your flaws and all, and I love you despite all of it.”

“Except you. You are an angel, Liz.”

“Noah, I basically turned down Connor’s marriage proposal, broke up with him and went straight into your arms in a matter of days.” She sighs guiltily. “No, we all just wear our demons differently.”

“Maybe. But you said it yourself, we are all just humans with our flaws and all. But you,” Noah turns and cups her cheeks in his hands. “you will always be an angel in my book. You saved me, Liz. When the whole world raised their torches and forks on me, you freaking saved me where you could have fed me to the mob. You’re the reason why I’m still here today and I love you for it, you hear me?” He pulls her into his arms when a tear starts to fall from her eye.

“I’m so in love with you, Elizabeth Mortimer. Always have and always will.” He kisses her cheek. “You’re the kindest, most beautiful, the brightest human being I’ve ever known. I’m the luckiest person to have you be in love with me and if you’re up for it, I want to build a world around you.” He adds, “Instant noodles included.”

Liz laughs, still teary-eyed, shoves him playfully on the shoulder, feigning a glare. “You jerk. Always have the flair to ruin a moment.”

Noah chuckles. “Technically, you love instant noodles, so it’s only right, don’t you think?” She shoves him again. “And I’m your jerk now.”

“My jerk.” Yet she says it the same way someone says ‘my love’. “I love you too, Noah Marshall. And I want to build that world together with you.”

Noah smiles. Because he loves her and because for the first time in forever, his life makes fucking sense.

Yes, he doesn’t know whether their relationship will last or will it crash and burn in the future, but at this exact moment, he’s happy and it seems that she does too. And that is all that matters now.

And if there is one thing that he’s sure of is that he knows that he doesn’t ever want to let this go. Not in a million years.

#playchoices #it lives in the woods #it lives anthology #it lives choices #noah marshall #noah x mc #choices #choices stories you play #choices fanfiction #choices it lives in the woods #ilitw #ilitw mc #pixelberry #choices ilitw #my writing ye #mine

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crackedoutgiraffe · 4 years

Text

The Stars In Your Eyes

THIS IS PART 2 OF TO THE MOON AND BACK

Part 2: Chapter 1 Part 2: Chapter 2 Part 2: Chapter 3 Part 2: Chapter 4 Part 2: Chapter 5 Part 2: Chapter 6 Part 2:Chapter 7 Part 2: Chapter 8 Part 2: Chapter 9 Part 2: Chapter 10 Part 2: Chapter 11

MASTERLIST

A/N: Thank you to everyone who comments, votes, and re-blogs! Ask to be added to the taglist.

4/24/2017

You watched as Emily jumped when you jolted awake in your hospital bed. “Where am I?” you asked as you looked around the unfamiliar room.

“You’re in Madrid,” Emily sighed as she set her magazine down on your blanket.

“What day is it?” you rubbed your eyes and laid back down. It just hit you how much pain you truly were in.

Emily grabbed her phone from her pocket, “April twenty-fourth, 2017.”

“Why am I in Spain?” you furrowed your brow.

“Well,” Emily placed her phone back in her pocket and leaned back in her chair, “your funeral was two days ago, so you can’t be in the states.”

“My what now?” you tried to sit-up but the scar on your abdomen stopped you from getting far.

“You were receiving death threats, so JJ and I faked your death,” she nonchalantly grabbed her magazine and returned to reading it.

“So, everyone thinks I’m dead?” All the memories from one week prior came flooding back. You could remember how Spencer refused to leave your side at the crash site and how heartbroken he was to see you carried away on a stretcher. “Even Spencer?”

“The only people who know you’re alive are me, JJ, and your mom,” she noticed how flustered you had become. She set her magazine down and came to sit on the foot of your bed. “You can do this,” she gave you that warm smile that always made you feel better.

“I don’t know how,” you stifled a sob with your hand as small tears started to roll down your cheeks. “I can’t raise a child by myself.”

Emily, noticing your tears, decided to lay next to you and wrap you in a hug, “JJ and I will come and visit you.”

“But what about Spence?” you sobbed. “He’s never going to forgive me.”

“I have known him for eleven years, I never saw him happier than when he was with you. If he’s smart he’ll forgive you.”

“Do I ever get to come back?” your eyes widened at the thought of never seeing him again.

She brushed some hair out of your face and wiped your tears away, “you can come back when we find out who sent you those letters.”

You continued to sob into her shoulder for a while before she got you discharged and took you to the apartment she found for you in the middle of the city. She gave you a passport and ID before leaving.

9/22/2017

“Emily, I’m so glad you could make it,” you smiled from the couch in your apartment. You watched as she walked over to you. Her face was complete awe. “This is baby Jason.”

“Oh my god,” she gushed as she sat next to you on the couch. “He has Spencer’s eyes.”

“Yeah,” that was the first thing you noticed about your child. “He does, doesn’t he.”

“How have you been adjusting?” she looked up from your baby who was now in her arms.

You gave her a small, reassuring nod, “I’ve been fine. I started working on another bachelor's degree and I met this lovely woman named Marissa Santiago.”

“I think a lot of what we learn about others isn’t what they tell us. It’s what we observe. People can tell us anything they want.”

“Iain Reid,” you giggled at her quote and your weird knowledge of horror novels. The two of you sat and talked for a few hours before Jason got fussy and you decided it was bedtime for all three of you.

8/28/2019

“Emily something’s wrong,” your voice was frantic, and Emily could hear it. “I haven’t seen Marissa in a few days, I think something bad happened to her.”

“Are you sure she's missing?” Emily asked.

You quickly grabbed your keys, suitcase, and child, “Yes, I checked her mailbox and she had a few days worth of mail in there.”

“Alright, I’ll see you when you get here,” she was against you coming home now, but they were the only people who could help.

Taglist:

@la-vie-en-amour1 @vixengustin88 @aperrywilliams

#spencer #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fic

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indigodawns · 4 years

Note

Eline omg can you tell us how it was / what happened in details? Do you have pics? So happy for you and a bit jealous tbh mfnfmf

hi!!! sorry for taking a while to get back to you but YES I CAN!! thank you, love, and djhfjhgjhfj valid

lemme put this under a read more to spare everyone else fmgnmgn

ok SO flore @flowerforaheart had won tickets for the listening party and asked me to come along. I’ve lived in Cardiff for the past few months so London is only 4ish hours away so obvs I said yes. also, neither of us really believed/thought louis would be there or that it wasn’t all a huge prank fgjhgjfhg. anyways, it was all quite Official and there were guards (and a lot of fans without tickets??? some of them had even flown in from different countries for this, w i l d) and our names were on a list and everything.

it was at Wembley Stadium, so we were led up some stairs there to what I think was a VIP box or smth??? we had to hand over our phones and then there was food and drinks and cupcakes with the x-eyed smiley on it. there were seats in a row facing a small stage, so we took place there (and to our right we could see the arena, all of that was honestly almost cool enough already dfjhdf). a scottish guy hosted it and louis came in for a small q&a (we could send in questions, I don’t remember a lot of it, but I think it’s all stuff he’s said before! he did emphasise that he put Always You on the album bc he knew how much we’d hyped it up bc of that teaser back then. he was like “do I think it’s great? no. do I think it’s good? sure! but it’s definitely not one of the best, but I wanted to put it on there for you guys” dfjhdjfhjhf bless. he said he’d done the same with one of the songs that got a big reaction when he played it in madrid, he wasn’t originally gonna put it on the album (flore said it was defenceless?). he also repeated how it really is the fans who keep him going and how he knows it took a while to find his sound, but that he feels good about it now)

and then he left when we were about to listen to the album (unlike SOME people who prefer looking people dead in the eye when they’re listening to his album huh mdfmdnfmfn). I really really enjoyed the album. lots of people were singing along bc of madrid and the singles and it was a bit odd at times (the atmosphere/situation I mean) but also v v good

then louis came back in and we applauded and cheered etc and we got to watch the video for walls (it was cute to see louis watch it too, people cheered and whistled esp at the scenes where he’s in a suit and he laughed dmfndmfn I’m glad he got that appreciation as well)

so then we were like oki! great!!! and THEN the guy was like “ok time for photos! pls queue!!” l i k e. I wasn’t prepared dfjhdjfh that’s how I’m justifying the everything about me in the pics (that haven’t been sent to us yet I think??). oh! and at the end of that all the host-guy (he’s known louis for 10ish years he said) was like “keep backing your boy, he’s a good/special one” or something like that, it was super touching honestly. he was clearly fond of him.

anyways, I was Terrified djfhjdfh and the queue moved FAST and he was in front of a screen-thingy, so when it was your turn you had to put your stuff to the side. so when flore and I were up (if you were in a pair you had to go together) (also I’m so glad we did djfhdjfh) I was like “HI!” and mumbled smth about dropping my stuff (which I did) (ik I’m SUCH a storyteller huh dfjdhfjhdfjhd I’m so sorry) and when I turned around he already had his arms open like :((( it was such a good, solid hug. he was wearing a knitted (?) black jumper and he was generally very soft. I forgot to breathe I think, but flore said he smells like smoke, if you are interested mnfmgn. I told him thank you for doing this, and that we don’t take it for granted and he was like “oh thank you for coming!!!” like SIR. OBVIOUSLY? and we got ready to take the pic and I just blurted out “also the album is fucking brilliant” (istg my english went to SHIT I used completely random vowels for all the words djfhjdfh Mortifying) and he laughed and said thank you. and that was it!!

after that we got to pick up our phones again and we all stood to the side to watch everyone else take pics and god, he was so fucking sweet and calm with everyone, he really took time to listen and joke around with everyone. some people were crying and he hugged them extra (we saw that happen before our turn) and he wrote stuff down for people or signed things. which. I WISH I’d thought of that/realised that was okay/had taken my time but hey. some people also made some conversation with him and he really listened, making eye contact and everything. oh, I think there was also a girl who was like hmmm I don’t think I’ll do a pic it’s okay!!! and he was like “are you sure??? come on, love” and so she did, it was super pure.

and theeeen they did group pics, so we all got split up into slightly smaller groups and he’d sit in front (as you might’ve seen? v cute) (there is a pic with me in it and it’s super weird djfhdjfhdjh). he also thanked us all again, and we thanked him djhdfjdh and then that was it!!!

honestly, I’m so thankful and happy about all of it, it was an amazing experience and I still can’t quite believe it!! I also just had a really good time??? so yes, that was the full story, I think!! thank you again, and I really hope you get to meet him as well!

#<333 #honestly this whole weekend was so so good I'm really glad and happy I got to have that #asks #louis #keep #dfjhdjh just bc I'm too lazy and jittery to sit down and write it all out somewhere else #<3 #Anonymous

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chvmberlain · 4 years

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𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉.

q —

you’re an asshole.

you promised me, you know. you promised me a 21st birthday to rival our 18th in madrid; you promised me to embarrass the hell out of whatever poor, unfortunate significant other i dragged home one day; you promised me we’d walk carina down the aisle together. i’ll never forgive you for that one.

you promised you’d read to me when we got home that night. cien años de soledad was on my nightstand waiting for us. i still haven’t picked up where we left off. it’s been seven years and i barely even remember the plot anymore, but i can’t bring myself to finish without you. it just doesn’t feel right.

i’ve been searching for that ugly ass jackson pollock painting mamá used to keep in your room. she’s such a pain in the ass — it’s one of the obscure ones, and she sold it off the second they cleared out your room. i can’t tell you how many times the sotheby’s agent has called me to tell me they’ve finally found it — they never have. i can picture it clear as fucking day, q. we all used to pile on your bed and roll our eyes at that stupid painting. sixteen year old me would laugh in my face if he saw how fucked up i am over it.

then again, if he knew the context, i think that’d be the least of his concerns. he’d be more worried about the time he has left with you. the days slipped away from me as easily as anything, and i never thought for a moment how numbered they’d be. i should’ve been more careful about the time i had left with you.

nineteen years isn’t enough. you could’ve lived six lifetimes and i’d never be satisfied; you had enough energy in the mornings that you never touched a drop of espresso a day in your life. what kind of person is like that? jesus christ. you were the fucking energizer bunny, q. you could’ve lasted a millennium on that kind of power.

sometimes i think to myself that it should’ve been me instead. more often than i’ll admit to anyone else — but you’re a dead man, so what will you do? tell on me? you would never. it should’ve been me, quincy. carina’s going to be a damn lawyer, you were supposed to change the world with your do-gooder heart; what am i doing here other than slowly drinking myself to death and tangling myself in something that will almost certainly land me in jail? mamá y papá would be ashamed of me. not that that’s much different than usual, but it still hurts to think about. would you be proud of me, q? i don’t think carina is, but we haven’t spoken in years. i’m terrified to pick up the phone, but i miss her so fucking much. i miss you so fucking much. i don’t know if it’s supposed to get easier, but i sure as hell hope it does. i can’t take living like this forever. i feel like i’m missing a limb.

do you see us, wherever you are? do you laugh, cry, love, all just the same as when you were alive and here with me? i like to imagine you on a grassy hill somewhere. the sun is warm, the breeze is gentle, and you’ve got a picnic basket full of jamón, manchego, y cava. i like to think it’s nice there. i like to think you look down and laugh: carina’s up to her elbows in dusty law books and tweed; i spend most of my time stealing the sort of things our parents use to decorate their summer home. couldn’t make this shit up if i tried. i’m still not sure if you’d be proud of me, but i do think you’d like it, q.

i woke up the other day and i couldn’t remember your smile. i had to look through my photos until i found an old photo of you, probably laughing at some stupid face i was making behind the camera — i don’t ever want to forget again, so i’m trying something new. when i think of you, i think of the ratty t shirt you always insisted on wearing. the way you talked with your hands. reading to me over skype ‘cause you decided to go to fucking princeton instead of yale with me, you prick. i think of the curve of your smile, fresh in my mind again, and the way you threw your head back when you laughed, loud and full and unashamed. i won’t forget again, q. i promise.

te quiero. ya lo sabes, pero te quiero tanto, tio. hasta el fin del mundo. te echo de menos.

con cariño, — m

#heisttask01 #━━ ❛ task.#it’s sad boy hours #yes mine ALSO says dear brother it's called THE DUALITY OF MAN #also Yes carina is Also in the graphic but just let it happen

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livingwithmx · 4 years

Text

July 10th, 2020

Once the final line up was revealed, I checked up on everyone. Everyone minus Jooheon was complaining and asked how Kyun manipulated his way in.

That's when I started to feel guilty. I saw potential in him and had to ask my dad to debut him. Normally being numb to everyone being so talented, Changkyun was just someone different to me. I ran off due to so much guilt.

On that night, I cried myself to sleep. My original plan was to celebrate with the new formed Monsta X with fried chicken and drinks.

The next day, I walked in the No Mercy dorm where everyone was planning up. Gunhee being disappointed that he couldn't debut with Jooheon aka his ride or die. Thankfully, I told my dad to give him a second chance. Then, there's Yoonho who trained for a long time. I was gonna tell my dad to form a group for him and the other trainees, but hr decided to move on along with the other members. Thankfully, Minkyun left the company before I got a chance to talk to him(phew...)

That leaves me with Monsta X. I helped them move into their new dorm room and ate with them. Kihyun started to cook food for the first time in his life at that moment, but the food got burned which is why we all ordered some Chinese food and ramen for Wonho(that boy would die for a bowl for ramen, trust me). I apologized to everyone for letting Changkyun debut with them. Jooheon actually convinced his fellow members to get along with them which is why I been forgiven.

The next few months, I watched them prepare for their debut. I started to know them a bit more and drift away from the trainees and their seniors.

(I got to help Kihyun ask out a trainee girl who ended up being his BONitA lady friend. Hyungwon was dating a mature ass woman who was super lucky until we realized that she was trash. Or should I say that she was Hyungwon'd Tammy[Sorry Parks and Rec reference]. Wonho was with a transgender man who he supported through his transition)

Anyways, the closer I got to Monsta X, my actual crush for Kyun grew so much that I gotta date him. Then, they started to be busy once they officially debuted which means I have to go back to my life of babysitting trainees and talking to my seniors and god father when they're not busy.

One year later

Around the All In promotions, I got a phone call. It was the guys. Since then, they had an okay debut. Finally got some fans over their song Hero which I so fucking fought for to be promoted (but my dad had to make the choice of giving them a "broadcast" version and a digital repackage. Dude, get out of here). They were all simping over a lesbian (yup Eunseo is a lesbian and a huge Monbebe uwu) for their Rush MV. I only stopped by for birthdays and when the puppy line(Minhyuk the beagle pup and Changkyun the wolf pup got injured).

Now I reminded myself, the time when Changkyun was injured and didn't promote a Chinese drama with his fellow members. Anyways, I stopped by to see him everyday and stay for hours(or if I was told to leave by the nurses). I'd give him a healthy meal and talk about ourselves and life after he debuted.

I learned about a group who were called Nu'bility where Kyun was gonna debut. The real reason why he left is because he didn't think he would debut and the company was broke asf. He tried to have all of the other members audition to Starshit. Sadly, none of them saw themselves debuting there and went to other companies.

The more time we spent together, the closer I fell hard for him. I wanted to tell him how I feel about him but I couldn't. I was so close to kissing him once at the hospital, but I ran off and cried to myself.

Back to May 2016, the guys invited me for fried chicken. I went to see him. Out of all the spots I could sit next to, there was a free spot next to a soft short haired wolf pup. I sat there and ate. When I was told that I got gochujang on my lip, I expected that cute k drama like kiss. Like what happened in the cafe scene of Secret Garden(I FUCKING LOVE THAT DRAMA DON'T @ ME). All I got was a napkin swipe and did it myself. :(

I ended up getting sleepy after the meal. Being the strongest of the group at the time, Hyunwoo carrying me on his back. We walked to my home which I tried to direct them to as I try not to fall asleep. I don't remember what's next since I fell asleep. I woke up in my comfy bed while laying next to a Gudetama plush.

Once again, I couldn't tell Changkyun how I feel. I was pissed at my self again as I hit my head with the Gudetama.

Months later, the guys and I reconnected. I helped Hyungwon deal with his broke up with Tammy II(again Parks and Rec reference). I chose Stuck as a promotional song(which they now regret since they don't even perform it anymore 😔). Organized their first solo concert. I got something to do but I wasn't paid for my work. That's okay, my dad is rich anyways. 🤗

2017, it was near the promotions for Beautiful. I asked Mr.Im Changkyun/Dany Im to go out for sushi and bingsu. Surprisingly, he aceepted the offer. Being my first date, I watch a lot of fake ass hoes on YouTube on how to have a good first time. If having fun mean ending up like Troy with his eyes popping out and being frozen when he was around LeVar Burton in the episode Immediate Flimmaking, then imma shit myself. The fact that I was going on a date that boi was an insane as concept for me to process.

May 11, 2017, this was my first date. I was mentally screaming when we ordered some sushi that is being cooked by a highly skilled chef that was cutting at his own pace for quality reasons. Damn, I was turning into Troy bruh. I was scared. My leg shakes as I wait for my roll with eel on it(if only that eel wasn't dead, it would electrocute some sense into me). We ate but he took the lead in talking. It scares me.

He took my hand which was not helping my anxiety (normal anxiety not the disorder). He took me to get bingsu. For me, he ordered me a matcha flavored and fed me like a baby while taunting me.

On that night before going home, we saw the city on the roof of my dad's company. We finally kissed and went home. Nothing sexual happened after that. That was the moment when we became a couple.

We didn't fuck until six months within the relationship. (Don't worry we consented at that time and after that). Tried to spend young couple holidays together.

We expected it to be only us for a LONG WHILE. Then, we had our little boy Im Chungae/Madrid Troy Im.

Yes, he kicked me out when Hoseok was accused of such ridiculous allegations. Sadly, I never stopped loving him. No one can replace him especially Nakamoto Yuta aka my current boyfriend. Let's just say I treasure Im Changkyun very much. I would never want to abandon him. 6 ME KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJK

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berniesrevolution · 5 years

Link

In Dilley, Texas, there is only one grocery store, and that grocery store is Lowes. (It is not a Lowes, like the home improvement center. It is a totally different and legally distinct store that also happens to be called Lowes.) Lowes is a place of many mysteries. I once went there to buy vegetable broth for a sick coworker, and combed the soup aisle for nearly 20 minutes before being forced to admit that no, Lowes does not carry vegetable broth. The closest thing they had was a can of something called “vegetable beef.” Lowes does, however, carry bacon-flavored pancake syrup, quite a lot of animal pheromones in spray cans (including such choice selections as “raccoon urine” and “sow in heat,” which I assume are for agricultural rather than cosmetic purposes), and a large selection of devotional candles in glass cylinders.

I had never paid much attention to the candles, but a friend of mine was in town, volunteering at the child internment camp where I work as an immigration lawyer, and he wanted to bring back a candle for some eclectic ofrenda-type situation he had set up in his D.C. apartment. He is a meticulous and thoughtful sort of person, and took a long time debating between various candidates. I had come to Lowes primarily to buy Cheez-Its, and was getting impatient. I picked up a candle at random. “How about this one?” I said.

The candle had a picture of a Little Lord Fauntleroy-type in a plumed hat and a white ruff, with a pink seashell pinned to his cloak. I glanced at the label on the back. Glorioso Santo Niño de Atocha, it said, patrón de las que están injustamente en prisión, protector de viajeros y que das la mano al que se encuentra en peligro…

I didn’t know anything about this saint at all, despite having grown up Catholic, so I looked him up on my phone. I soon discovered that he was not really a saint, per se, but a special Limited Edition version of baby Jesus. Wikpedia offered up the following backstory:

In the 13th century, Spain was under Muslim rule. The town of Atocha, now part of Madrid’s Arganzuela district, was lost to the Muslims, and many Christians there were taken prisoners as spoils of war. The Christian prisoners were not fed by the jailers, but by family members who brought them food. According to pious legend, the caliph ordered that only children under the age of 12 were permitted to bring food. Conditions became increasingly difficult for those men without small children. … Reports soon began among the people of Atocha that an unknown child under the age of twelve and dressed in pilgrim’s clothing, had begun to bring food to childless prisoners at night. The women of the town returned to Our Lady of Atocha to thank the Virgin for her intercession, and noticed that the shoes worn by the Infant Jesus were tattered and dusty. They replaced the shoes of the Infant Jesus, but these became worn again. The people of Atocha took this as a sign that it was the Infant Jesus who went out every night to help those in need.

This all got me rather excited, because I am very fond of medieval history, and regularly drive around rural Texas blasting 13th-century Spanish pilgrimage music. Who would’ve thought that a little vestige of the medieval world would turn up in my local grocery store? Secondly, what better patron for someone who works at a jail for child refugees than a child-saint who defends both travelers in peril and the unjustly imprisoned?

And that was how I first ended up buying a Holy Infant of Atocha candle for my kitchen table.

Later, when I researched the matter further, I found out that the Wikipedian history of the Holy Infant was—shockingly—likely incorrect. The medieval origin story was a post hoc invention, an attempt to give an older European pedigree to a wholly Mexican tradition. The Holy Infant’s mother, as it turns out, was an authentically medieval character: Holy Mary of Atocha appears in several of the 13th century Cantigas de Santa Maria (a.k.a. the sick beats currently blaring from my Kia Forte), mostly as a patroness of field workers. When her shrine at Atocha was selected for special favor by the Spanish monarchy in the 17th century, she was transformed from a saint of the people into an emblem of Spanish governance. It was in this capacity—as a defender of Spanish colonial might—that Mary of Atocha found her way to Mexico. Sanctuaries in her name were built in the state of Zacatecas, in Fresnillo and Plateros.

But through some obscure evolution of local devotion, it was the image of her child, the Holy Infant, that became the primary locus of worship. The Holy Infant of Atocha eventually came to be revered as a protector of ordinary people, especially of miners, travelers, and prisoners. An 1848 novena written by one Calixto Aguirre was instrumental in popularizing the cult of the Holy Infant, and the cover illustration of the printed pamphlet version was the first to show him as a pilgrim rather than a prince. Instead of a crown, a globe, and a scepter—the traditional iconography of power—he had a big hat, a food basket, and a traveler’s staff with a gourd hanging from it. The first episode of the novena tells of a legal miracle. It begins with the tale of a poor woman by the name of Maximiana Esparza, who wanders to four different cities, seeking succor. In each city, she is imprisoned for her malas costumbres—some unspecified bad manners—and, having no family or other advocate to speak on her behalf, she languishes for years in prison in each place. At last, after being in prison a year in Durango, she prays to the Holy Infant of Atocha:

…who listened to her kindly and took her out of her captivity; for in all the time that she had lived there, there was nobody who would defend her, until the Holy Child of Atocha, dressed as a handsome youth, visited her in that prison and gave her some bread in the name of his mother, saying to her that same afternoon she would see the judge and he would take up her case, which caused no little amazement among the rector and the other inmates; and when the time arrived that the Child had named, she was set free.

Mary of Atocha, the former people’s saint, may regrettably have become more conservative in her waning years, but she nonetheless succeeded in giving the world an even more radical son. We should all be so lucky!

It’s actually pretty absurd that I knew nothing about the Holy Infant of Atocha until a few months ago. Once he was on my radar, I soon realized that he’s a pretty standard figure in Mexican and Chicanx Catholicism. But I stumbled into immigration advocacy three years ago knowing next to nothing about Latin American cultures, and even now there are huge gaps in my understanding. My Spanish, too, is still pretty atrocious. I have been working at it for three years, but it’s like speaking through a mouthful of broken glass. I muster my words with pain, and my meaning comes out all mangled. I now feel a strong affinity for all those immigrant grandparents who understand English perfectly and never learn to speak it; I am sure I would be just the same if I were ever to immigrate to a non-English-speaking country. I often feel that any bilingual person, with or without a law degree, could do most of my work a lot better than me. But I am here, so I do my best.

Sometimes I wake up in the mornings very anxious, usually when I have to draft a big court filing or an important request to the asylum office, to try and stop a detained family’s deportation. I come up with soothing little rituals to ease my transition from fretful sleep to focused work. I put on some music. I make a big pot of coffee. I light my Holy Infant of Atocha candle. It’s really because I like the way the candlelight makes me feel, not for superstitious reasons. I’m really not one for good luck charms, astrology, or premonitions. I remember that shortly after Trump first announced the family separation policy this summer—this was when I was still in Massachusetts, getting ready for my move to Texas—I was walking down a familiar street near my home, feeling very disturbed and heartsick. All of a sudden I saw a rabbit on the sidewalk a few feet ahead. It was standing quite still, and it let me walk up close. For a moment the encounter felt almost magical. Then the rabbit loped off, and where it had been, I saw two small baby bunnies lying dead on the pavement. When I bent to look, a little cloud of flies dispersed, then settled again. As omens go, that was some Roman-level bullshit. But I don’t think it was anything but coincidence.

The area of south Texas where I live now is teeming with strange sights, and sometimes everything I see feels pregnant with meaning. The drive from my apartment to the internment camp is only four minutes, but the road is always strewn with strange corpses. A dead dog or house cat is an everyday casualty; but I have also seen bodies of armadillos, bobcats, and javelinas, all mowed down by a speeding truck, or a passenger-bus of incoming detainees, or one of the heavy tankers that barrel continually to and from the nearby oilfields. No waste collection service ever disposes of the animals, so I watch their corpses bloat and distend and then disintegrate over a period of weeks. I have heard a rumor too that there are zebra on one of the ranches around here, flown in and kept in captivity so that deer-weary hunters can have something exotic to shoot. I’ve yet to see an escaped zebra lying dead by the side of the road, but give it time.

Also on the same road as the child internment camp, if you can believe it, there is a Texas state prison. It lies alongside a large ranch, and in front of the jail there’s a field of watermelons. Sometimes in the early morning, on my way into work, I see a group of prisoners in white jumpsuits and white caps, working the watermelon field. Ringed around them are three or four heavily-armed officers on horseback, in case anyone tries anything. The thing is so ludicrous it’s hard to know whether to laugh or cry. It’s as if this tiny town has been selected as a kind of roadside showcase of human cruelty.

(Continue Reading)

#politics #the left #current affairs #immigration #immigrant rights #immigration reform #detention centers #detention camps

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kimnamjooonz · 5 years

Text

London Calling - Chapter 8

Pizza express

Summary: After the Irish dances are over, hasn’t thought much about Sebastian. But there’s more in store for her.

Songs used in this chapter:

22 - Taylor Swift

Bad Reputation - Joan Jett

Special guest:

The next day Celine woke up without much thoughts about the previous night. Yes, she had had fun but life kept going on and she had things to do. The day was cloudy and perfect for a lazy day so she didn't even bother to change her pajamas. She was having a great, normal and ordinary morning. She had made tea, fed her cat and watched a Real Madrid match. They had won so Celine's morning was even better. She was also trying to advance a little with her investigation without much success. What she needed was more inspiration so she booked a couple of tickets to go to the Tower of London with Matilde the next day. She was listening to 22 by Taylor Swift in full volume when she heard some knocks on her door probably from Matilde. And she wasn't wrong. ''What's happening to you?'' Matilde asked when she saw her usually impeccable friend in such a lazy state. ''Nothing, why?'' ''I don't know you look the opposite of yourself and you're listening to Taylor Swift and wrapped on a blanket at 1pm''. ''I was having a quiet time until you arrived. Do you want tea?'' Matilde looked mysterious enough to make Celine suspect something. ''I actually have a date'' she waited for Celine's reaction that never happened. ''With Sebastian Stan''. Celine was a bit intrigued but didn't care much about it. Sebastian seemed like a really sweet and attentive guy, perfect for Matilde. And he was also one of her many celebrity crushes. ''Good'' she said without making much of a fuss. ''And you're coming with me'' she said, making Celine almost choke. ''Matilde, I'm really happy that you got a date with your celebrity crush but if you think that I'm going to third wheel for you two, you are dead wrong''. Matilde looked at Celine as if she pitied her. ''Celine, how many times do I have to tell you that he's not interested in me, he likes you. I asked Sebastian if he wanted to meet for lunch and he said yes then he asked me if you were coming and I said that you were''. Celine was amazed. Her friend had spent the whole morning planning dates while she was trying to make some progress in her investigation. With a sigh she threw herself to the coach. ''Tell me you're not making any kind of romantic implications'' she groaned, covering her face with her hands. ''Why not? He likes you, you'd be gorgeous together and you two would have the cutest half Romanian half Welsh babies.'' Celine was finding this conversation terrifying. If it was a joke, it wasn't funny. ''I also think that you'd be better with my plan instead of staying here being depressing with the only company of that arrogant cat of yours''. ''I'm not being depressing! I'm trying to continue my investigation, it's a big deal for me. And Elemauzer is not arrogant. He just doesn't like people''. ''Celine, please, I promised him you'd come''. ''I'll go'' she said, rolling her eyes. ''But you'll stop with your romantic implications. I don't have time for a boyfriend now, let alone Sebastian who's actually famous. He's way out of my league and he can do so much better than me. I work twelve hours a day and in my free time I try to write history books. I'm not girlfriend material for a celebrity, be realistic''. Matilde was still keeping that smug smile on her face. ''I think you're wrong. He can't do better than you. You're smart, pretty and very different to anyone he had met before''. Celine laughed out loud. This was very improbable and it existed only on Matilde's wild imagination. ''Please Matilde, look at him. He can get anyone in the blink of an eye. There's no chance he can be interested in me. Not that I care, by the way''. she rolled her eyes one more time before leaving to change her clothes. Matilde smiled for a second. At least she had succeeded even if her friend was with a weird mood. ''Where are we going?'' Celine asked after they had left her house. ''Pizza Express'' ''Sophisticated'' she laughed even though she loved pizza. ''And the day's so grey! You didn't let me enjoy my lazy day. And Matilde, I forgot to ask you, can you come with me tomorrow to the Tower of London?'' ''Sorry but I can't. I have to work and I don't start on Wednesday like you. Remember I'm just a secretary, not the Prime Minister's personal assistant''. They arrived at the same time as Sebastian who had brought one of his friends from last night, Anthony, who had the same look on his face as Celine, like they were basically dragged there, unwillingly, by their insistent friends. ''Hello'' Sebastian greeted them shyly and Celine couldn't help but to feel that Matilde was right and her evening had improved dramatically. ''Sorry for bringing Anthony but he really didn't want to stay at Tom's with him and his... lady friend from last night'' he blushed and Celine seriously doubted that Anthony had come there by his own will. ''So you are the lucky ladies that left with Sebby last night...'' said Anthony with a smirk looking at 'Sebastian. ''Yes'' answered Celine, looking at Sebastian with a little smile. ''And we had to walk him home, otherwise he'd be lost. He makes a pretty good damsel in distress''. that made Anthony laugh out loud and Sebastian acted as if he was embarrassed, but he actually wasn't ''Thank you, Celine'' he mumbled. ''You're welcome'' he winked at him when Matilde and Anthony weren't looking. ''Nice to see you again, Sebastian'' she whispered only to him. ''Likewise'' he gave her one of that heart melting smiles of his. When they found an empty table Sebastian went for the food and Matilde for the drinks, leaving Celine and Anthony alone. ''Tell me what did he promise you for you to come'' she asked him directly. ''Free lunch. And you?'' ''That she's going to stop trying to find me a boyfriend. Don't ask questions'' she said when Anthony was ready to ask something. ''That's a pity. I saw a nice chemistry between you and my idiot friend.'' Celine looked at him with raised eyebrows. ''Really. I mean, Sebastian's been single for over a year and he hadn't show any kind of interest in anyone until he met you last week on that library. That has to mean something, don't you think?'' Thankfully she didn't have to answer that because Matilde and Sebastian were back with the food. ''I need to know something'' Matilde started when everybody was focused on their food. Celine and Sebastian were shooting such lustful glances to their pizzas that it was funny. ''What was Janice doing at Tom's house?'' Anthony and Sebastian looked at each other, Matilde was more curious than ever and Celine was still focused on the food. ''Well... she never left'' Sebastian said as quickly as he could. The only one who absolutely unmoved by this piece of information was Celine. The pizza was much better than gossip about two people she didn't really care about. ''Don't put those faces because I was the one who had to hear everything'' he looked quite disgusted. ''It was really uncomfortable, they didn't let me sleep at all.'' ''I don't think I wanted to know the details'' mumbled Matilde. Anthony and Sebastian tried not to laugh. ''And this is not everything'' Sebastian was in deep gossip mood. ''This morning they were making breakfast together and they were all smitten. It was horrible, I swear I couldn't keep a straight face. Then I decided to go for a run until Matilde texted me I wanted to have some pizza. And that was morning''. he finished his speech with one of his signature smiles. ''I should have invited you to see the football match'' Celine looked at him, she didn't look very serious with a portion of pizza in one hand and a glass of Coke in the other. ''Once you get into football you can never leave'' by the way she was looking at him, they could all notice that she was being dead serious. ''Do you like football?'' asked Anthony, quite amazed as he didn't know many women who were interested in sports. ''Yes, and by football I mean the real one not that weird thing you have in America that's played with an egg shaped ball.'' she looked directly at Anthony's eyes, challenging to contradict her. And of course he didn't dare. He wondered since when Sebastian had a fancy for intimidating women. ''Better that Chris doesn't hear you say this. He's quite in love with his New England Patriots'' Anthony rolled his eyes, like he was questioning Chris's love for his team. In the blink of an eye the conversation turned to Chris Evans and how awesome he was. It was hard to guess who was more in love with the guy: Matilde, Sebastian or Anthony. Celine had nothing to say. She was even grateful when her phone buzzed. As she didn't recognize the number she guessed it was from work. ''Excuse me'' she decided to take the call outside that it was less noisy. ''Hello?'' ''Am I speaking to Doctor Celine Cadwallader?'' ''Yes'' Celine wasn't sure who the person was but if he knew her name it was probably something work related. ''You are talking with Michael Gristwood from the BBC'' Celine froze. ''We revised your project and we decided that you are to be writing your new historical documentary. You'll also be allowed to narrate some lines''. ''This is great''. Celine wanted to dance around the streets. She felt as happy as when Real Madrid had won the Champions League. But she had to keep the sudden happiness to herself if she didn’t want to look like a crazy woman. Mr. Gristwood appointed her to a meeting the following week and that was all, as weird and exhilarating as it was. Celine stood outside the Pizza Express feeling a bit numb. She was writing a bloody documentary for the BBC. She wanted to stop random people on the streets to tell her the news. Of course she didn't do it, that was crazy and creepy. ''Are you okay? '' it was Sebastian. Celine suddenly remembered where she was. She had lost all the notions of time and place for a moment. ''Yes'' she looked at him with a big smile on her face. ''Of course I am. I'm writing a documentary for THE BBC. Impressive, isn't it?'' It was ironic that from all the people she knew, the first one to learn about that important piece of information was a guy she had met a week ago. And famous actor. Crazy. ''Really? Congratulations!'' he looked genuinely happy for her. And he really was. She reminded him of himself whenever he got a role he was looking forward too. ''I still can't believe this is real life'' she said in a wave of honesty. ''I'm pretty sure you worked hard for this'' he was looking directly to her eyes. She had to admit that she couldn't concentrate in what to say with him looking at her like that. Those beautiful blue eyes seemed to stare at her soul. ''I think so'' she was still a bit distracted. ''You're the first one to know about this, Sebastian''. ''I feel honored'' he said with a smile. ''You should'' she teased him, before going back inside. He looked at her with a flirtatious smile before opening the door to her. They found Matilde and Anthony engaged in a conversation about Star Wars. ''Where were you two?'' asked Matilde. ''Making out outside?'' Celine threw a napkin on her face. ''That's the first thing that comes to your dirty little mind, isn't it?'' ''You look very happy'' Anthony was looking at her with an smirk and raised eyebrows. ''Of course I'm happy. This is the face of the woman who's going to write a documentary for the BBC not the face of one who just snogged your friend. No offence''. ''Thank you, Celine. That was encouraging'' Sebastian wasn't being serious, of course. He was starting to catch up with Celine's weird sense of humor. She was one of that persons who used sarcasm to describe the weather. Anthony was a bit astonished that someone he knew was smart enough to write a documentary. ''Well done, Celine, I know you were going to get it'' Matilde was happy for her friend but she didn't had any doubts that she was going to get her project. After all, everything seemed to be working well to her lately. Celine phone buzzed again. This time it was a text from none other than Joel Shand-Kydd. ''The band is back in London. Impromptu meeting. You have to show us your house someday''. She wasn't expecting to see her friends again so soon after the last meeting. Seconds later she got another text: ''6pm at the usual place. Then we go to your place to do some karaoke''. Sebastian had accidentally spied that someone named Joel had texted Celine and they were going to do some karaoke. There was no way he could picture Celine doing karaoke and, who the hell was Joel? ''Are you going to celebrate this very special achievement?'' curiosity had got the best of him. But for decency's sake, he tried to be subtle. ''I'm not big for celebrations, let alone when I have to wake up at 7am tomorrow. Coincidentally, some of my friends from Cambridge are paying an unannounced visit tonight'' she rolled her eyes. ''A wild night talking about science, the most interesting TED talks and the latest gossip about the Cambridge academics that as you may guess, is very racy''. ''Sounds... entertaining'' he mumbled. She looked at him with a little smile. ''I'd invite you but believe me when I tell you that you don't want to spend your night talking about atoms, singing the harmonies of More Than A Feeling or listening to Joel's drunk stories. By the way, Joel is a friend from Cambridge. Imagine how weird it is that not even Matilde wants to go. And she never misses a party if alcohol is involved''. He wasn't expecting to get all the answers of the questions he had in his mind without asking them. ''You are making me want to go'' he joked. ''I'm sorry but I can't. I have to be at the airport by seven''. Now it was Celine's turn to be intrigued. So, he had just visited London for week? It seemed logical and by Celine's surprise, a bit disappointing. ''Are you leaving?'' she asked with her characteristic elegance. He smiled at her, satisfied of having sparkled her curiosity. ''No but Anthony is. He came here only to help me settling a bit but tomorrow he has to go back to the States. I'm staying here until September. So you'll be seeing me very often...'' he smiled with confidence but in two seconds it crumbled and he blushed. ''...if you want of course''. he added in a hurry. Celine was smiling at him with genuine kindness. It was impossible not to like him. Not only he was really handsome but he had such a delicate personality that it was adorable. He tried to be smooth only to fail and that somehow made him more endearing. ''Of course I'd love to see you again. I have to show you around, remember? I'm sure we'll have fun''. between the lines she was telling him that he was completely welcome in her world. Celine knew how it felt to be the new one in town and how important it was to have people around that made people feel like they belonged. She'd be happy to make Sebastian feel at home. He was looking at her with such a sweet smile that it hard not to melt right there. ''Hey, you two'' Anthony interrupted the little talk. ''It's five already. I think we need to leave''. Sebastian looked just like someone who was waking up from a dream. ''Okay... I'm going'' After paying, Celine said goodbye to Anthony, saying that it had been nice to meet him (which was true) and wishing him good luck in whatever project he had next. When she went to say goodbye to Sebastian she had a light bulb moment. ''Sebastian, are you free tomorrow evening?'' His eyes lighted up in a very noticeable way. ''Of course, why?'' Meanwhile Anthony and Matilde weren't missing a word. ''I have a couple of tickets to the Tower of London. If you want you can come with me, if you have nothing better to do, of course''. Matilde was astounded. After all of her annoying hesitation and denial, there she was, asking Sebastian out herself, something that Matilde wouldn't have never dared to do in a million years. It only took Celine a second to know that he was going to say yes. ''Yes, of course.'' he was too happy to accept. ''I would love to go''. Anthony was a bit confused with how this situation was unfolding in front of his eyes. A week ago, Sebastian had been a literal pain in the neck and now the man had a date with the most unconventional woman Anthony had ever met. ''The Tower of London?'' Anthony asked Matilde. ''Doesn't sound very cheerful, does it?'' ''They executed people there. Not a very romantic place to go on dates, to be honest. But Celine likes it. For a historian that place is Disneyland. I went once with her and I was bored out of my wits. Poor Sebastian, he has no idea in what he's getting himself into''. ''He may like it, for all I know. It's Sebastian we're talking about''. After a quick goodbye, Celine and Matilde went back to their homes. After that, Celine was going to the usual Nandos where she and her Cambridge friends made the reunions. She was in such a good mood that she was happily mumbling Joan Jett's Bad Reputation. ''I told you it was a good idea to come'' said Matilde. Celine didn't even deny it. She had had a brilliant evening. To be fair it was mostly because of her upcoming project with the BBC but talking to Sebastian had been great too. ''It was.'' she said with a little smile. ''Thank you''. ''You're welcome. I can't believe you had it in you to ask THE Sebastian Stan out on a date. You made the first move, congratulations girl''. Celine was a bit confused. ''It's not a date. It's an educational trip to the Tower of London''. ''Whatever'' Matilde rolled her eyes. ''Do you want to come with me to the Cambridge improvised reunion?'' ''Sorry but.. no. They make me feel like an ape''. Matilde had met Celine's university friends and they all had been very nice but she couldn't understand a thing of what they talked about half of the time. She had got really bored and even tried to flirt with Celine's male friends which didn't work at all. As long as she knew all of them were clueless as her so it wasn't a surprise that Celine had turned out to be totally numb in matters of the heart if she had spent half of her life with these people. How she had managed to hook Sebastian Stan with that attitude towards romance, it was to remain a mystery forever. ''They don't think of you this way. They found you amusing''. ''They probably think I'm a simpleton. And your male friends don't even react to my attempts at flirting. And they are really good''. Celine laughed out loud. ''Of course they were not going to react'' Celine went on laughing. ''Charlie's gay and Joel claims to be asexual, remember?'' Matilde felt like an idiot but didn't say anything. Amy had told her about that but she was so drunk that she had forgotten about it. ''I'm just going to sit and wait for Sebastian to introduce me to Chris Evans. I pray that guy's into women because I need a chance with someone''.

P.S

I really wanna rant about the ending scene of EndGame for the rest of my life.

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Tag list: @iamsebastianstab @bloodyvalentine93 @void-imaginations @dmn-dmn @euphoricbuckys @bluewavesx @lamamery @morrocanlovey @korysdiops @galaxydragonxx @ridingthedevil @exotericbarnes @heartsbeatingfortheworld @stuckinthemiddlewithyou @carmsfiorenzanoc @superheroesaremytea @torntaltos @massati @lesbiiionest @naffeesaa @ming3015 @earthtodevon @imdiegohargreeves @heidi4499 @bluediamondsevie @randomandfandoms1967 @goldvirago @paz22 @peterpxrkerlove @derekxsammy @leonardo-capulet @bellaire312006

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thebeautifulgame7 · 5 years

Text

REPUTATION

CHAPTER INDEX

CHAPTER NINETEEN:

Iris’s POV:

The first two weeks of Sergio’s preseason tour came and went and I missed him dearly. We talked most days and he really tried his best to send me messages when he couldn’t talk. Occasionally, I would get a selfie of him while he and the team were out doing something fun and then other times they would be pictures of him shirtless, and sometimes pantsless, in case I forgot what my boyfriend looked like. It was cute when he tried to be sexy in those pictures, sometimes it would work and other times, he’d just look goofy and adorable. I saved every single one though, no matter how silly I thought he looked taking a selfie at a restaurant.

I was pretty nervous when he left Madrid that we would hardly talk, but Sergio, ever a man of his word, tried his hardest to make sure we had some form of communication every day. Sometimes it would be a text conversation while he was on the team bus, or a long phone call after training, or a quick, but intimate sext conversation, facetime or call while Iker was in the shower. While those last three were a lot of fun, it just wasn’t the same as being with him. I missed his touch, his taste, the sound of breathing and moaning in my ear.

We tried to keep it interesting with different fantasies. Sergio, I had come to learn, was quite creative when it came to those and he told a sexy story very well when he needed to. Again, however, it wasn’t the same. He did have a solution for that, or something close to it.

***

About a week or so after he left, I got a package in the mail with no return address. Inside was a note from Sergio that read, “I know it’s not even close to the real thing, but since I’m not there, I thought something was better than nothing.” I furrowed my brow as I reached into the box, pulling out a vibrator and dildo.

I laughed louder than I should have at it and called him almost immediately. He picked up after the third ring. “So I got your present.” I smiled as I started the conversation.

“And what did you think?” Sergio’s voice answered from the other end.

“I thought it was hilarious, you are too much sometimes.” I chuckled as I studied the items in front of me. I still couldn’t believe he actually sent me sex toys.

“Well I was hoping you would use them.” He said in a more serious tone than I was expecting. “I thought it would be kinda hot to see you doing that to yourself.” His voice got deeper. I really didn’t think he was dead serious about these. I had never used toys in front of anyone else, come to think of it, I hardly used them at all. I never really thought I needed them,

“You can’t be serious, you wanna watch me?” I asked, still not believing he was into that. He also struck as more of the hands on type of lover.

“Yeah, I do.” His voice sounded almost gravely now. “I thought it would be fun to mix things up this way, you know, since I can’t be there.” He added.

“I don’t know babe, I don’t put on a show for just anyone.” I sighed in another teasing tone, sometimes he just made it too easy to mess with him.

“Not even for your hot boyfriend with a huge cock?” He tried to keep the conversation going in the direction he wanted, but it was more fun to poke fun at him.

“Well, the one you send me looks a little bigger.” I trailed off as I finished, holding the dildo in my hand. I was lying of course, but I knew it would get under his skin.

“Impossible.” Was his only reply. So he wanted to play then did he?

“And how would you know?” I asked him, eager to hear what he would come back with.

“Because I measured myself, and bought one slightly smaller because I knew you would try and tease me about that.” Sergio explained in a serious tone. I could not stop the laughter that followed.

“You- you’re kidding, you actually- you got hard just to measure yourself?” I almost couldn’t breathe I was laughing so hard.

“Well I wanted it to be realistic!” He said as he laughed now too. “I’m trying here baby, I thought maybe I’d give you something close.” He giggled a little. “And of course I didn’t get hard just to measure myself, it was the day you sent me those sexy pictures.” He added and I laughed a little.

Now it was my turn to use a seductive voice, “Nothing could come close to you inside me. Not a toy, not another man, nothing.” I responded. “I want you back here in Madrid so bad, and when you do get back, we’re not leaving the house for days.” I added, feeling quite sultry. I wanted him to get a little worked up over this, at least a little hard. What I was saying was true though, he and I had a lot of catching up when he got back.

All I heard on the other end was heavy breathing for a few moments before he spoke. “Hearing you say all that was worth the price of the overnight shipping.” Sergio responded and we both burst out laughing that time.

It felt like he and I were so in sync on things. He could be sexy, funny and witty all in the same conversation and I liked that a lot about him. He was clever and charming and very sweet and thoughtful in his own Sergio way. I liked that about him too. Maybe I even loved him.

***

I’ll admit, we did try out the toys, but Sergio seemed to enjoy it more than I did. I couldn’t quite get into it the way he and I wanted. He seemed a little disappointed, but I did agree to try again some other time when he was back home and it could be used as foreplay.

This second week was even harder than the first, being around Sergio was addicting and I was beginning to seriously experience withdrawals. It wasn’t just in a sexual way either. I was craving his glances, his cozy hugs, his cuddles, the way he always softly snored as he drifted off to sleep. I wanted to run my hand through his hair, to feel his arms around me and to just be around him, whether we had sex or not.

These cravings led to a rather elaborate plan on one sleepless night. I was going to be the romantic one and sweep him off his feet with a surprise. I was going to Los Angeles to surprise him. I knew he had a match there in a day or so, which would give me time to fly out and meet him at the game. I was going to need some help getting into the stadium but that was nothing a call to Iker or Lia couldn’t fix.

***

Sergio’s POV

As we were walking into the stadium before our match against Manchester United at the Rose Bowl my phone buzzed in my pocket. I saw Iris’s name on the screen. It was an odd time for her to be calling from Madrid. It was probably two or three in the morning there.

“Hey baby, everything alright?” I said quietly. We weren’t supposed to be on our phones right now, we had to be focused even though it was just preseason. I had to set a good example so I couldn’t talk for long, but I also wanted to make sure she was okay.

“Yeah everything is good, why?” She asked me.

“Well it’s like almost three am where you are, you don’t usually call me this late.” I said, walking into the locker room.

“Oh uh, right, yeah well I just couldn’t sleep and I wanted to wish you good luck and say-” She started but I couldn’t hear the rest as I was being scolded about being on my phone.

“Sorry babe I didn’t catch that last part, I don’t have good reception where I’m at.” I explained and Iris started again.

“I just wanted to say good luck and that I-” I again couldn’t hear the last bit as one of the coaches yelled at me to hang up the call.

“Babe, I don’t wanna be rude and cut you off but it’s really not a good time, I have to go.” I replied, feeling bad for having cut her off twice.

“Oh okay, well good luck and I love you.” She answered.

“Okay babe talk to you later.” I tersely replied without thinking, before hanging up as I got to my locker.

“Oh my god.” I whispered, leaning my head against the locker and closing my eyes. “I’m such a fucking idiot.” I mumbled, dropping my phone onto the bench.

“What’d you do now?” Iker asked, setting his stuff next to mine.

“She told me she loved me and I fucking hung up on her.” I regretfully answered him.

“Yikes. Why don’t you just call her back?” He asked and handed me my phone.

“Iker I don’t want to now, it just seems forced at this point. I was going to say it to her in person when I got back in a week and a half.” I whined to him, still feeling dumb. I looked down at my lockscreen, a picture of her and I. “Doesn’t matter anyways, I don’t have any service here right now.” I added, dumping my phone in my backpack.

“Don’t worry, you can call her tonight and explain yourself.” Iker offered.

“What if she doesn’t answer because she’s mad. What if I’ve ruined everything before we’ve even really started?” I complained, already nervous about having to call her back. “Iker she knows I used to be a huge playboy, what if she thinks I don’t love her back?” I asked, my mind spiralling at this point, there was no way I could focus on this game now.

“Well do you love her?” He asked me.

“Of course I love her!” I said back a little too loudly, causing a few players to look at us funny.

“How could she be so nonchalant about telling me she loves me?” I questioned in a lower tone now, so only Iker and I could hear. “I mean, she just kinda mentioned it as an afterthought. Also, why did she call me at 3am just to tell me that? Who does that?” My mind was going a mile a minute at this point.

“You need to calm down, we have a game to play.” Iker tried to reel me back in with a calm tone but it wasn’t working.

“Iker, she just said it so calmly, like it wasn’t even a big deal, it’s a huge deal! Love is such a big deal.” I explained, getting myself all worked up. “Unless, unless it’s not for her and that’s why she said it. What if she didn’t mean it? Iker, I mean it, I’m dead serious about her you know that.” I babbled on, not letting him get a word in. “She means so much to me, but what if I don’t to her?”

I had myself so worried at this point that even I was realizing how ridiculous I was starting to sound. I couldn’t let my mind race like this right now, I had a match to play; more importantly, I hadn’t had a chance to speak with her again yet. I couldn’t sit here and worry about what ifs, there were others things I needed to focus on.

“You are being really dumb right now, and we don’t have time for that. I need you to put that out of your mind right now for this match and then I promise you, we can come back in here and talk it out some more.

“You’re right, it’s probably fine.” I responded, but I didn’t really mean it.

***

Iris’s POV:

All he could say was thanks babe, talk to you later; after I told him I loved him. No I love you back, no acknowledgement either really. I felt embarrassed and a little ashamed. I really thought he felt the same and we were there.

I thought it would be cute to call him when I landed and say I love you, then surprise him after his game, but now I was questioning everything. It was too late at this point to go back to Madrid, I had already paid for the flight and made it to LA in time for his match.

I sat in the car, riding to the stadium feeling very anxious. What if he wasn’t excited to see me? I would feel like a fool if I got there and he wanted nothing to do with me. At least I would make it in time to see most of his match.

The ride went smoothly and I made to the game having only missed the first fifteen minutes. I scanned the pitch and finally found the white number four jersey I was looking for. I smiled for a moment before I remembered our conversation. I slumped slightly in my seat, quietly observing him run around the pitch. I was not impressed with what I saw, Sergio did not look good. He was late on runs, his passes were bad and he just seemed unfocused. Had I done all that to him? Did saying I love him really put him in such a funk that he couldn’t play to the level I knew he was capable of.

I needed to have a conversation with him after the game and I wasn’t sure either of us was going to like it, in fact, I dreaded it. If he couldn’t step up with a good explanation than I had something to worry about. I was willing to wait for him, but only for so long.

I was so lost in thought I barely heard the final whistle. The two teams went around shaking hands and I made my way down to the tunnel, trying to muster up a smile. I was after all, still pulling off a great surprise.

***

Sergio’s POV:

I played probably one of the worst matches of my career that night. I couldn’t focus on anything, my passes were erratic and my defense was sloppy and all my teammates noticed. The way Iris was so calm about saying those words to me was unsettling. How could she just say it so easily like it was a passing thought? It was a huge deal to love someone in that way. It wasn’t like how you say it to friends and family, saying I love you to your significant other is a whole other level of intimacy.

Hearing Iris say she loved me worried me, because now I was second guessing whether or not I could handle that kind of intimacy. I had never been in love, and the closest I’d ever gotten is with her.

As I walked off the pitch towards the tunnel I grew nervous about the phone call I was going to have to make when I got back to the hotel. She’d certainly be awake by then and demanding an explanation from me. The hard part about that was that I didn’t have one.

I was scared of my feelings, and of losing her.

I had my head down as I entered the tunnel before I heard a voice, “Hey stranger.” It couldn’t be, no way.

“Iris.” I croaked, hardly recognizing my own voice. My feet were stuck to the ground, like they were covered in cement. It took me a moment to realize she was actually here.

“Fuck oh my god you’re here.” I exclaimed, running over to her and wrapping my arms around her. “I can’t believe you’re here.” I whispered, spinning her around as my face was buried in her neck. All my fears melted away at the feeling of her in my arms.

“Hi baby.” She said her arms around my neck. “You’re all sweaty.” She giggled as I set her down. She brushed some hair out of my face before going on her toes and pecking my lips.

“Wait, wait, wait, that’s all I get after almost three weeks apart?” I teased, pulling her back in for a deeper, longer kiss. “I missed you so much.” I said, hugging her to me again. I knew she loved me because she let hug her even though I was sweaty and gross from the match.

“I missed you too.” She replied with a smile.

“What are you doing here?” I asked her, taking her hands in mine, happy to touch her again.

“I wanted to surprise you, I missed you too much.” Iris explained.

“But how did you get into the tunnel? Who gave you credentials?” I looked down at her badge confused. She held up her badge and it read ‘guest of Iker Casillas,’ I should’ve known.

“Just took a phone call to him two days ago.” She smiled, letting the badge hang around her neck. He knew this whole time, he was sneakier than I thought.

“He’s always up to something, I swear.” I laughed and giggled a little, dropping my hands.

“Can we, can we talk?” She nervously asked. My heart dropped and I felt like I had rocks in my stomach.

“Uh, uh yeah, yeah sure. Just, uh, I have a schedule to keep with the team, where are you staying?” I asked, feeling hot and nervous.

“Your hotel. I booked a room.” She answered.

“Can I meet you there? Shouldn’t be more than an hour.” I explained. I felt bad, but here in a stadium tunnel, was not the place to have this conversation.

“Yeah sure, just text me when you’re back.” Iris nodded.

“Okay babe, I’ll see you in a bit.” I replied and gave her a quick kiss before walking to the locker room.

***

Iris’s POV:

I gave him the chance to say it there, and he didn’t, which made me even more nervous for this talk. I anxiously paced around my hotel room, he would be here any moment.

“Back, just have to drop my bag off at my room.” He texted me. My heart raced, and so did my mind. I quickly texted him my room number and waited.

In what seemed like seconds there was a knock at the door, he was here. I gulped and headed to the door, my sweaty hand turning the knob.

“Hey babe.” Sergio smiled, kissing my cheek as he walked in. I gave him a quick reply and watched him go to sit on the edge of my bed. There was an awkward silence before I worked up the courage to say what I needed to.

“We need to talk about what I said today, or actually, what you didn’t say.” I said calmly, looking at him in the eye.

“Well, it did catch me off guard. I wasn’t expecting it in a phone call when I was heading into a match.” Sergio replied.

“I said it because I meant it and I wanted you to know.” I responded, he wasn’t really looking at me and I wasn’t sure why.

“Really? Because that’s not what it felt like. You said it like it was an afterthought.” Sergio boldly stated, seeming much more interested in the conversation now. I was stunned by his words.

“Are you kidding me? Why would you ever think I would just say that as an afterthought like I didn’t mean it?” My voice was getting louder and I could feel the anger in me rising.

“Because you just randomly call me and say it, no ceremony, no build up, just ‘oh hey babe good luck and I love you,’ like who does that? It’s such a huge thing in a relationship and you said it like it was nothing.” Sergio explained and I could see the frustration in his face.

“Love doesn’t always need to be dramatic, Sergio. I felt it so I said it, why is that such a hard concept for you to understand?” I was yelling now. Who did he think he was right now? What did he want from me here? I was honest with him about my feelings, what was the issue?

“You said it over the phone, from what I thought was five thousand miles away, when you knew I could only speak for a few minutes, how much more impersonal could you get?” He angrily replied, his voice raised slightly.

“I already told you, I said it because I felt it! Why would I wait for the right moment, like it’s a huge, momentous thing?” I spat back, my brow furrowed. “Why is it so hard for you to just say it back, not everything has to be so over the top. You’re being dramatic over nothing.”

“Because to me it is, Iris! Loving someone is a big deal! When you love someone the way I love you, it’s a huge fucking deal okay?” He yelled back and we both fell silent. His eyes were glued to the floor now. He said it, but I knew it wasn’t the way he wanted it to come out.

He took a deep breath and looked back up at me, standing and walking over to where I was. He gently took my hands in his, his thumb rubbing over my right hand. “I’ve never felt this way about someone, but I know that I love you.” Sergio said, looking directly into my eyes so he knew I meant it. I was still silent, letting him finish saying what he needed to.

“I’ve never said that to anyone but you, and I wanted it to be a big dramatic thing because it’s important to me.” He explained. “When you love someone you’re all in, their your person and your theirs. It’s a commitment to be there for someone when no one else is and it scares me that I can feel this much for someone else and make myself this vulnerable.” Sergio went on, and I could feel tears sting my eyes. “I’m so scared, but I’m trying for you, for us, because the fear I have of losing you far outweighs the fear of falling in love with you.”

“I’ve had it all planned, ever since I left for preseason you know?” He mentioned and I looked at him puzzled.

“Had what planned?” I sniffed and wiped a tear.

“We were going to go out for a nice dinner when I came back, enjoy a stroll in the city and I was going to tell you there. I’ve loved you for a long time now, and I was just so fixated on finding the perfect way to say it and now I feel like I’ve messed it up.” Sergio’s head dropped as he finished explaining. Tears welled up more as his words sank in. I felt stupid for having ever doubted his feelings up until this point. This man loved me more than I knew.

I released his hands and grabbed his cheeks, pulling him to look up at me again, “Look at me, you did not mess it up. There is no wrong way to say I love you unless you don’t mean it.” I calmly said, stroking his cheek with my thumb as a tear fell from mine.

“I love you, Iris.” Sergio said softly, in almost a whisper. His lip quivered slightly and I knew he meant what he said 100%.

“I love you too.” My wobbly voice responded before I pulled him into the tightest hug. The tension melted away as we embraced. We were in love and we both knew it.

I couldn’t believe how vulnerable Sergio allowed himself to be, even I had a difficult time opening up at times. He was so open and transparent and I loved that, I loved him.

Sergio pulled back from the hug first and smiled at me, “Now, how about we cuddle and watch a movie? I have netflix on my laptop, I can go grab it.” He offered and I laughed, wiping away the last few tears.

“That sounds lovely.” I replied and he nodded, kissing my forehead before disappearing to his room.

***

Sergio’s POV:

She loved me, like really truly loved me. And I loved her. I couldn’t help the smile on my face as I made my way down her floor to her room. “She loves me! Woo!” I practically yelled down the hall.

I walked back into Iris’s room to see her already settled in bed. I sat next to her, sliding into bed and turning on my Macbook.

“Are we actually gonna watch the movie?” She asked as I pulled up a movie. I think she already knew the answer to that question. I picked an Avengers movie and Iris cuddled into my chest.

We got about twenty minutes into the movie before we stopped paying attention, which was longer than I thought we were gonna last. I really tried to focus on the movie, but Iris kept kissing my neck and distracting me.

“Oh so now who’s not watching the movie?” I teased before pushing my Macbook off my lap and crawling on top of her. Her lips locked with mine and that was it. Tony Stark and the rest of the Avengers were long forgotten.

“Your body’s better than Thor’s anyways.” Iris giggled and pulled my shirt off. Couldn’t argue with that statement.

“God I missed this.” I moaned against her lips. Just getting to touch and kiss her would have been enough but we needed to be with each other in the way only a boyfriend and girlfriend can.

“The phone just wasn’t the same.” Iris moaned in response as I started grinding against her.

“Fuck phone sex, it doesn’t even come close.” I replied, unbuttoning her pants as she slipped out of her shirt.

“I need to feel you Sergio, all of you.” Iris said in a sultry voice, her hand reaching for the waistband of my shorts.

Iris and I slipped out of the rest of our clothes and finished what we had started. It was rough and soft, fast and slow. We didn’t try anything new, we just wanted to be connected again.

We spent most of the night wrapped in each other’s embrace, the Avengers series long forgotten at the end of the bed. I was going to be exhausted at training tomorrow, but I needed this, we needed to be together again, intimately. We had some making up to do, especially since we had a fight when we could’ve been fucking.

Special thanks to @fitblrblog for your help with this chapter!

#sergio ramos #reputation #chapter 19 #fan fiction #football #iker casillas #real madrid #spain nt

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